Monday, July 09, 2012
Originally published here January 27, 2009. D1 is me, D2 a friend in Oregon, also named Dave.
The Story of an Orphan Guitar, and the Boy Who Loved Her
D1: (Playing the instrument): This thing plays so pretty it breaks my heart.
D2: Well, you don't want a guitar that breaks your heart. A song, maybe...
D1: Except for where it says "Lyle" on the headpiece it's exactly like the Gibson (Hummingbird).
D2: Yeah, it's why they call a lawsuit copy. I'm sure the Gibson Company would like to bring a lawsuit against Lyle for making it.
D1: Did you say you picked this guitar up for 60 bucks?
D2: Yeah...but like I told you, it was falling apart. The top was coming off; it was filthy and it had stickers all over it; the bridge was broken. It was out of adjustment and the tuners were crumby. The neck was warped and the frets were worn...(laughs)...have I made my point?
D1: Yes, I think so.
D2: I knew when I got the neck straightened out that it was gonna be OK, and that's when I realized that it's a really great guitar. It's a happy guitar now. It lives a sumptuous life in its brand-new guitar case instead of banging against the wall in a pawn shop.
D1: (Plays a few bars of "Back South" by Scrapper Blackwell.) I never did learn how to play that kind of stuff -- those difficult blues picks like Scrapper Blackwell used to play. He used to play those so fluently...it's simple stuff, but it's hard to play.
D2: Well you have to be playin' it all the time. Like those rolls and stuff, you gotta play 'em all the time or you become stale.
D1: I'll learn it eventually...Am I keeping you up?
Photo ©Dave B, 2012