I recently bought a new electric guitar. I don’t really have the cash to do so, but as has so often been the case in my life, I kinda made it work financially, in part with a commitment that I’d sell one of my other guitars (well… two actually… 😬) to cover the cost.
I hate selling instruments.
Nearly every time I’ve done so, I’ve come to regret it.
It was no surprise, then, that on this occasion I found it really difficult to part with the guitar I was leaving behind at the shop, for them to sell on consignment.
I held it, blessed, and wished it well. I withdrew my energy from it. I hoped for it a good home, where it provides inspiration and contributes to someone’s musical journey.
And I grieved for a few days. Like, for realz. I was bummed out, and it really did knock the excitement off my new purchase I gotta say.
Reverend Reeves Gabrels Signature guitar. I think it’s gorgeous… you?
I’m now settling in with my new friend (a Reverend Reeves Gabrels signature in blue, like this one, in case you’re wondering). But it took a while. And I definitely had a bad case of ‘sellers remorse.’
See, I don’t buy guitars that are ‘cookie cutter.’ I very rarely buy a guitar that I haven’t played in real life first (although that is having to change, by default, due to how the musical instrument market is shifting online).
I do look for instruments that ‘speak’ to me, when I pick them up and play them. My first Maton acoustic—upon which I’ve written many songs and has seen me through a lot of tough times—was like that. Even amongst instruments of the same model and style, there was something about THAT one. It hasn’t been used in a while, but I haven’t had the heart to sell it yet. Too hard…
And the Telecaster ‘79 Deluxe re-issue that I picked up second hand, but sadly had to return due to it being identified as stolen goods. Now I’m happy it went back to its rightful owner, but… It was not super-expensive, and yet that particular guitar had something special about it. I was so bummed about having to hand it back. They replaced it with an identical guitar in spec—a new one at that (the store was incredibly embarrassed and really went above and beyond to do right). I swapped out the pots and got it almost there. But still, it just wasn’t the same.
This latest guitar I’m selling I picked out of around a half-dozen guitars I had selected and had out on a rack at Better Music in Canberra to compare. I spent more than 2 hours, if memory serves, working through each one and finding THE one… the guitar that most spoke to me.
This guitar was the first that I felt I could get my sound out of. It had a beautiful, versatile tone. The sound I was aiming for, covering the gamut of styles and sounds that I had in my head. It somehow felt like my voice, but coming out of the amp.
And I’ve written a bunch of songs on it in the four years since. I recorded my first EP, Letting Go, almost exclusively on that guitar. I’ve played countless hours on it at home. I performed at a dear friend’s 50th birthday celebration with it. Jammed dozens of time, with dozens of folks. And, like my Maton, it’s been with me through some really tough times…
It was not easy to let go. I wish I could keep it (even though I really can’t justify it, at any rational level).
While I have had some instruments that have been easier to sell on, this sense of grieving, of not wanting to ‘let go,’ is a common experience for me.
Anyways… during my latest grieving moment, I got to wondering why was this so? I get it—it’s an inanimate object, after all. Made of wood, and metal, and electronics. Beautiful workmanship, to be sure. But still, not much more than a piece of furniture in terms of it’s materiality. I don’t have the same sentimental attachment to my iPad, for example. So what is it about instruments?
And serendipitously, YouTube provided the answer 😏. Well, sorta. Some insights at least.
In the video above Rhett Shull, and Zach (from Mythos Pedals), dig into what makes a guitar ‘special.’ I found it really interesting to watch as they both came to articulate, over the duration of their time together, what they looked for in a guitar.
Some of Rhett’s comments really resonated. He likes the fact that individual Gibson guitars (in his case) aren’t all the same. That you have to try a bunch and find the one that speaks to you.
This is very much how I feel. In my case, I’m an absolute Reverend fan-girl—right now I own 4!! (selling 2, mind you, but still…). So substitute ‘Gibson’ for ‘Reverend’ and that’s me to a tee…
The other video that caught my attention was this one, from Samurai Guitarist:
At about 7:05 in, he shares his reflections on a wonderful restoration of a vintage Fender Telecaster:
I’ve played a number of vintage guitars, and I’ve also played a number of heavy relic’d guitars, and I’m telling you, there’s something about the real deal. It plays better, it sounds better. Something happens to an instrument when it’s 50 years old and it’s had countless hours of music put through it… it’s like it takes on a mojo or something.
(‘Reliced’—pronounced “rell-ick-ed”—is the practice of artificially aging a guitar, so it looks more ‘vintage’ than it really is.)
I think there’s something in that… The materials in a physical instrument quite literally resonate with the music that is played through it. A passionate musician is putting their emotions into their playing, and this translates into physical differences in how they play and the sounds they produce through it. Not to mention any energetic connection they may have to the physical artefact itself (if you connect with that sort of idea…).
So, if nothing else, I’m not alone…
I can only hope that the instruments I’m passing on go to players who cherish them and use them to manifest their own creative energy… That they help them on their own artistic/emotional/perhaps even spiritual journey.
And I long for a day when I don’t have to sell them on…!!