I have been . . . unfaithful. I have been untrue.
Those who have read my occasional odd posts about my attempts to return to guitar playing after a nearly 35 year hiatus have seen many references to the guitar I bought back in '72 or '73, the one I hauled out and started playing again after a long confinement under the stairs. The guitar, not me.
Well,my beloved old Epiphone is back under the stairs once more. In the dark. Not, I hope, gently weeping.
From the start I have struggled with certain issues while playing. Certain chords that resist me, both bar and open. Recurring hand cramps that would make a far more sane person wonder where the dividing line—or time for meds zone--between dedication and masochism might stand, and how far past it I was stumbling each night when I practiced. For the last year I've found myself sometimes thinking: sure, much of this comes from me being a doddering wreck, that's a given, but could some of it come from the instrument I'm playing?
Last week, on my birthday--always a good day to indulge in hare-brained, possible expensive endeavors--after braving Walmart for the first time since the pandemic to secure new work shoes and possibly a new watch (in the end I only bought a new watchband to replace the one held together with tiny zip-ties) I took myself to see the Doctor. Dr. Guitar, to be precise.
I laid out my weaknesses and failings to him: 69 years old, smallish hands and fingers, arthritis, busted wrist from a few years back having left my left hand stiff and weak, and asked if he had any ideas as to a guitar that might be easier to play. I also told him that for practice I mostly played with a capo up two frets because it was easier on my hands, allowing me to practice longer.
Here's where I offer hearty and heartfelt praise for the local merchant who absolutely knows his or her shit. I buy shoes in person because I have fussy feet, and have to try them on. When it came to my query about an easier to play guitar the Good Doctor was The Man. Over the next forty minutes I tried out several guitars: a Martin, Washburn, Takamine, Epiphone, Fender, Dean. I even test-drove a white and gold Gretsch that looked like it had been designed with Liberace in mind and may have had a candelabra socket. The store was busy, but the Doctor kept checking on me, asking what I liked or didn't like about the instrument of the moment, and selecting something else for me to try.
After this whirl of acoustic guitar speed-dating I went back to one I'd given a brief try near the beginning and marked as intriguing, a Taylor BBT-e, a smaller body acoustic-electric with a solid Sitka spruce top, walnut sides and back, rock maple neck, ebony fingerboard, under-saddle pickup. The -e is the electrified version of a well-regarded model they’ve made for many years.
While not a medically certified Munchkin, I am not a large man, and the BB--short for Big Baby--suited me well. The body is 15/16 the size of a standard guitar, or 3/4 the size of a dreadnought. Slim, narrow--but not too narrow--neck. Low, easy action with no buzz. I tried some of the problematic bar chords, and hit most of them with all notes sounding cleanly first try. Okay, something harder, taking the basic C shape up the neck as a bar. Whoa, hit that right off the bat! Cowboy D, now can I pick up that sometimes iffy high A on the E string with my pinky? Why, yes I can. I played the Taylor for about half an hour, sans capo, trying out different fragments of pieces, going from Starman to Dreamboat Annie to Sail Away, to Who Knows Where the Time Goes, to Whiter Shade of Pale, to Crane Wife, to Freight Train, to some of my own peculiar constructions.
My hands hurt a bit when I stopped, but not a single cramp--though I was beginning to feel a faint warning ache in my wallet area. I already loved the built in tuner, and when the Good Doctor obligingly plugged it into a Fishman acoustic guitar amp so I could hear its electric voice I was deeply impressed.
So I told him yes, I want to start fondling this younger guitar on a regular basis. The Doctor asked if I had any issues with it. When I said I thought the strings could be a tad lower down toward the sound-hole he made some adjustments, then he asked what I was using for strings on my present guitar. I said D'Addario phosphor bronze lights. He restrung it with a new set of the same--and he did the job in about the time it takes me to dope out the child-poof packaging the strings come in.
I have not had a single hand cramp since I started cheating on my old guitar every evening, even though I have been playing it without a capo most of the time. My bar chords are surer and faster and cleaner. Quick chord changes in more complex songs where there might be a dozen or more in a line (Paul Simon does not care if you pretzelize your fingers playing some of his songs) are easier, making my playing more fluid--refrigerated honey instead of glue. The low end isn't quite as resonant in my chest as my old Epi, but I can hit those notes more solidly on fast chord changes. Many reviews (read after purchase) said this was a great guitar for a fingerpicker, and it is; my left hand may be too slow for much in the way of arpeggios, but my thumb and index finger can still manage a respectable hopscotch and pull out a lovely melody, and full-on fingerstyle sounds good enough to make me practice it more.
Then a couple evenings on I plugged it into the little Fender Champion 20 modeling/effects amp I got to go with the electric guitar my wife found at a yard sale for $10 last year. Selected Tweed, Chorus, and dialed up the gain a bit for more sustain. Almost produced a batch of shorts fudge at the grand noise that came wailing out. Plugged in, it will play sweet, weird, or nasty. Oh my. I lean toward quiet playing, but that avenue will be explored further.
Okay, the guitar was just a bit under $600, with soft gig bag included, plus the NY cut for tax. The way I figure it I average an hour and a half of playing most nights, call it 525 hours a year. So the guitar is costing me a buck and small change an hour to play, payout after a year and a couple months. Vodka supplies for later evening playing run more than that.
Am I a $600 guitar player? I don’t believe so, but this guitar is helping my playing enough that I might just become one before I croak.
Final flourish: I called the Good Doctor not quite a week after he helped me find the Taylor to thank him for his learned and excellent assistance, tell him that the new instrument was just the prescription for what ailed me, making it easier and less painful to play, and making me sound a bit less like I have frozen Vienna Sausages for fingers.
He said my call made his day, and his response helped make mine.