Tuesday, November 6
When I was about 16 years old I was starting to sing and write songs. I would perform at coffee-shops and the university and the arts warehouse in Prince George. I was often accompanied by a girl I met through a friend, and she had talents on the acoustic similar to Ani Difranco/ Joni Mitchell. So of course, the guitar writing and performance fell into her lap and I wrote words and melodies. I was young and a lot of my material was selfish, bleak or obscure. (the teens…thank goodness that’s a one time deal)
Over time, I felt like I was held hostage a bit by my lack of guitar know-how. I wanted to be able to write at home and come up with a complete lyric and sonic idea, so I started thinking about getting my hands on a guitar. My lovely friend Clarence had a guitar hidden away in his closet which he never played and which he gratefully donated to me. Although the neck was bowed from neglect and strings constantly broke onstage when I played- I had a guitar to muck around with. At a house party, a buddy showed me how to play “Mary Jane’s Last Dance” by Tom Petty, and I was ready to begin my journey of strumming chords and putting songs together. I found it painfully difficult to get my fingers to change from one chord to another at first. But like anything, practice got easier as time went on. I painted the guitar case with images of favourite albums from the time and felt like a real songwriter!
A year or so later, I donated Clarence’s guitar to another fledgling player and I think she still has it. She is now much more of an advanced player than I am and I know that guitar is being loved and looked after. When I turned 18, I was given a Simon & Patrick acoustic from my step-dad, and that is the guitar I still perform with today. We were just getting to really know each other and that gift meant a lot to me. He took me into the music store and told me to look around while he pretended to have some business with the owner. When he came back and found me with the Rosewood Top guitar on my lap he asked, “Do you like that one?”
I loved the way the bridge seemed made to fit into my hands and how warm and rich it sounded. I also liked the orange swirly machine heads, the gold pegs and the action on the strings. I told him I thought it was a nice guitar, and he smiled. He had just finished paying for it and informed me that it was now “my guitar”. Instruments given to creative people who have no means of obtaining them by themselves are most precious. You are as good as the tools you use, and every time I pick up my guitar, I know I trust it to be steady and receptive.
Namaste
Posted by anita under Images, Updates and Chat.
