To the guitar, with love
In hours of leisure, I like to play the guitar. Like a majority of guitar hobbyists, I also sing along.
Most days, I can’t tell if I sing better or play the guitar better. I’ve also realized I don’t sing particularly well.
Even so, I have had several friends and acquaintances approach me with questions such as ‘what guitar to buy’, ‘where to learn’, ‘how long does it take’ and the oft-repeated ‘does it work with women?’.
Apart from a glum head-shake in response to the last question, I find myself without an answer to these questions. The askers find that hard to believe and persist. So, over the years, I have drummed up a few pointers which I thought of putting down in one place today.
Choosing the guitar
Picking your first guitar is like picking a wand. The shopkeeper would go on telling you — this one is made of maple, this one of rosewood, the frets are bigger on this, that one’s a trusted name, blah blah.
As a beginner, this can be daunting because a lot of guitars look pretty, and one wishes they could pick up a stack together.
But you must take your time.
Since it’s your first guitar, you probably can’t play to test it. But just hold the guitar as if posing to play.
Does it feel right?
There are only a few people who will reach the level of intimacy with you that your guitar will. Since guitars come in varying cuts, sometimes a guitar’s curves won’t align with yours. That’s a no go.
Once you find a guitar that sits comfortably with you, use a plectrum and pluck each string.
Do you like what you hear?
In the days to come, you will engage your guitar in long conversations. You better be fond of the way it speaks to you. It should be a sound that would cheer you up in times of despair. Also the sound that boisterously sings with you in moments of joy.
Of course, there will be days you rub (read pluck) it the wrong way, and it will respond harshly. It will be frustrating. It will need a lot of working upon.
Does listening to it purr melodiously again make the effort worthwhile? Think.
A life together
The first few days together with the guitar are the hardest. You can call it the anti-honeymoon period.
The guitar is not responding the way you want it to. That which sat comfortably in your arms keeps slipping off your lap. And after a long day of tedious conversation, all you have is bruised fingers.
But fingers, they learn.
The pain won’t go away. But your fingers will build calluses to sustain the pleasure in your equation with the guitar.
It’s a long and winding journey to this point. And the strength of your calluses will serve as a reminder of the early days when you could have called it quits but didn’t.
Distractions and temptations
There will always be friends asking you how things are between you and the guitar, and seek proof of how far you have come. When you play, some will smile, while others will scorn and tell you this isn’t meant to be.
“What’s the point of struggling? It’s not like you’d be a Jason Mraz.”, they will tell you with disdain.
And they would likely be right with the Mraz part. But is that the only culmination you strive for? You will have to answer that question for yourself.
On other occasions, some guy will tell you about the raw looks of a Fender or the clean distortions of a Les Paul. You’ll see a Satriani light the stage on fire, and be driven by the allure of his rocket shaped baby.
You will go hunting for its ilk and flirt with them. Perhaps, they turn out to be what your life was missing all this while. Or they may just be fleeting baubles who met you when you wanted to be somebody you are not.
Don’t be afraid of being lured — you are allowed your phases. Keep your mind about you and you may just come out of this knowing your heart better. Your old buddy will sulk a little, but eventually forget and forgive.
You guitar will get you, always. It will resonate with your mood each time and all it will ask for, in return, is a little respect. Yet, there will be times you will end up hurting it. It will expect you to fix it with new strings and be gentle.
Letting go
But as the years go by, it will start telling you that it can’t whip up the energy you want it to. You would want to hear none of it. But soon you will realise that no amount of fixes can restore its vivaciousness.
The guitar will understand when you get its replacement. It will never complain about being the ‘other’ and humbly play second fiddle. It will be happy as long as you are.
And when the time will come, it will walk away peacefully. Knowing it has served its purpose. And served it well.
Have a guitar story to share?
Share the ways in which your guitar holds a piece of your life. And if the words here resonate with you, don’t be a grouch and send a few claps this way.
