So, you want to be a rockstar. You wanna stand in an arena with a guitar in your hand and rock in your heart. Get in line. There are thousands upon thousands of folks of all ages who hold onto the dreams of rock superstardom. Why wouldn’t you dream of being a rockstar? Houses on the beach, only the finest food and drink, exotic vacations, millions of people screaming your name. Sounds appealing, doesn’t it? For most of us who daydream about standing on the stage at Madison Square Garden in front of a sold-out crowd, it will be nothing more than a daydream.
But many of us actually get a shot at playing in front of paying audiences in local clubs and bars. We spend countless hours practicing our respective instruments, loading vans that will breakdown about 100-feet from nowhere, sleeping on floors wherever there’s space, saving quarters for laundry, and wondering where the next check is coming from. It’s the rock and roll life. Are you sure you want to get in on that action?
Ok, chief. Well, then, let’s get rockin’.
Before you can even start to play you need to find an instrument. If you’re like us, you chose to rock your brains out with an electric guitar. You want to play earsplitting solos, chunky rhythms, and powerhouse chords. Maybe (if you’re of the appropriate age group) you begged and pleaded with your parents to buy you a guitar. You don’t know what kind of guitar you want, it just needs to be electric. Chances are pretty good your parents don’t know what kind of guitar to buy and they’re not about to drop $2,500 on a Gibson Les Paul that you might stop playing tomorrow.
Your author’s tale of learning guitar is one like that. In the seventh grade, I begged my parents for a guitar and I was in luck, the JC Penny catalog had arrived and in it was a whole section on musical instruments. They looked good. They were shiny and amazing and I wouldn’t have known a Fender from an Ibanez from a Gibson from a Kay. That’s right a Kay. What the hell is a Kay? I have no idea, but I had one.
The price was right for my parents. For $100 they could buy me a guitar and if I stopped playing after a few days it wasn’t a huge loss. And so they ordered that $100 piece of plywood with a few pickups and some crappy strings slapped on it. And it was a guitar. But more than that, it was a door stopper – it was certainly heavy enough.
There was nothing playable about that guitar. It had virtually no sustain. The neck was about as easy to play if someone had taken a baseball bat and put the heaviest, dullest strings they could find on it. The pickups were shotty and the electrical wiring was so poorly connected my father took apart the guitar on more than one occasion and resoldered the connections. But I struggled to play it.
That’s one thing people have learned about me: I’m more stubborn than any mule you’ll ever encounter. I wanted to play guitar and dammit, I was going to figure it out. And for the first four or five years of my guitar playing life, I played the heck out of this piece of black painted lumber. I wasn’t good but I just figured that I wasn’t destined to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Eric Clapton. What I didn’t realize was that there was a world of guitars out there and mine barely belonged amongst its peers. At the same time one of my best friends was given a Fender Stratocaster. I’d never seen a Fender in person before but I knew it was one of the best guitars. Mine didn’t even compare.
And then one fateful day I received a catalog for a mail-order guitar store. They were more than guitars. They had drums, keyboards, recording stuff, microphones, mixers, and guitars. Pages and pages of guitars. There wasn’t a Kay to be found amongst them. But there were Fenders. And Epiphones. Ibanez, Gibson, B.C. Rich, ESP, Gretsch. They were all there. And so were their price tags. Some of the guitars started around the same price as my Kay – $100. Others topped out around $10,000! There had to be a difference but what that was I didn’t know.
But I knew my guitar wasn’t even in the catalog. It wasn’t a real guitar. It needed to go. I wanted a Fender. It was a good guitar. I knew that. Was it for me? I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. I wanted one. The prices were what had me scared. I knew my $100 Kay was crap but at this time I was 16 and certainly couldn’t afford to buy a guitar for several thousand dollars. I could barely afford to buy a guitar for a couple hundred dollars. But I was in luck. Fender had something called a Squire. And for $149.99 I used my first paycheck from my first job and bought a Baltic blue Fender Affinity.
I thought that was the greatest guitar ever. Certainly it was much better than the Kay (which I promptly sold for $20 to a kid who was dying to learn to play guitar and her mother didn’t want to drop a lot of cash on a hobby that would be destined to end in 24 hours – a familiar story.) I played that guitar in my band The Sheep Incident but by the time I was a senior in college I was realizing that the Fender just wasn’t for me. I had an Ibanez EX that was given to me by a coworker and I never was jazzed by the sound. But the neck! Woah! It blew my Squire’s neck out of the water. My hand seemed to move faster on on it and I could move around between chords and notes much quicker.
But I’d been playing guitar since I was 12 and here it was 10 years later and I wasn’t much better than I was when I first got that Kay. And it wasn’t for lack of playing time. I played every day, practiced every spare moment I had but much to my chagrin I wasn’t even close to the guitarist I wanted to be. I liked playing but I hated that I was so bad. Why was I so bad at it?
Again, being stubborn, I wasn’t about to quit. I graduated college, moved into an apartment and rediscovered a band that I’d first learned about my sophomore year in college – The Donnas. Their guitarist was fantastic. I wanted to play like that. That was my goal: get as good (or close) to Allison Robertson’s playing. There was no way I could do that on my Fender. I tried. Believe you me. I tried and tried and I couldn’t even muster the main riff of The Donnas’ hit song “Take It Off.” What was wrong? Was it me?
No, I decided. I needed a guitar like Allison’s. She had a Gibson Les Paul Standard. I looked it up in the latest issue of my music catalog. There was no way I could afford to drop $2,500 on a Gibson Les Paul. But I wanted one. Needed one. I was convinced that if I had a Les Paul I’d get better. I didn’t want an Ibanez Les Paul copy. I didn’t want a Hondo. I wanted a Gibson but couldn’t afford one. I did some research. Gibson owned a company called Epiphone. I knew about Epiphones. John Lennon played one. So did George Harrison. They were two of my favorite musicians. Epiphone couldn’t be crap. And since Epiphone was licensed by Gibson they actually sold a Les Paul. So I found one used in a local music shop (that not-so coincidentally looked remarkably similar to Allison Robertson’s Gibson LP Standard) and bought it for $349.
I’d like to say that instantly, practically overnight I became this amazing guitarist. I didn’t. But something interesting did happen. I was able to learn songs more quickly. Those “impossible” songs I liked but had never been able to play before were easier to play now. And a few months later I’d joined a new band and was actually able to play some of Allison Robertson’s guitar parts. I could even write my own parts. All those years of music theory weren’t for nothing. I could play guitar and I could write for guitar.
I had spent 10 years of my guitar playing life being frustrated with my instrument. I couldn’t play anything I wanted to play. There seemed to be a disconnect between my brain, fingers, and fretboard. Most people would have given up on their guitar-playing dreams but I’m not like that. I get frustrated and will keep it up and keep it up until I’m successful.
In a very roundabout way I do have a point here. This isn’t the story of how I learned to play guitar even though it certainly seems that way. This is advice: no single guitar is right for everyone. Just because Kurt Cobain played a Fender didn’t mean it was the right guitar for me. Sure Paul Stanley played an Ibanez, but that didn’t mean I should. Ok, I give, Allison Robertson is a Gibson guitarist and I am now too, but that was really a lucky draw.
There are a lot of guitars out there. Play them all. Find the one that fits. You’ll know it when you play it. The second I picked up my Les Paul I knew that it was the guitar I’d been looking for. There was no question about it. Since then I’ve gone through my fair share of guitars and I always know if the guitar is the right one for me. Right now I’m favoring the newest edition to my herd, Korina SG, but the second I had it in my hand I knew that it was my guitar. And I’ve picked up guitars by Fender, Ibanez and even BC Rich more recently and while they’re all great guitars, they’re not mine. They don’t feel right. They don’t play that well for me. But for you? Maybe.
One thing to remember: the price tags do in fact mean something. The Squire was $149 for a reason and in your humble author’s opinion, a guitar that cheap should never be given to a beginner. It will only end in frustration and the end of the hobby.
So you wanna be a rockstar? Before you rock, choose your weapon. Play a lot of guitars. Camp out in the guitar store and just play everything. Your guitar is waiting. You just need to find it.