This entry is about art disguised as a guitar geek post, so bear with me if you will.
I mentioned in a earlier post that I had recently sprung for a new guitar that was unlike any I had bought before — a big blonde maple dreadnaught, where I’d been used to smaller guitars and jumbo-shapes in warm woods like cedar, mahogany and walnut.
As I was playing the new instrument and liking it a lot over the last couple of weeks, I began to notice that the sound was a little too bright for what I’d been looking for — but that the punch and volume of the instrument were dead-on.
In particular, I noticed that the guitar was strung with light strings that made an awful lot of string noise. I also thought the trebles were so bright as to be brittle when played hard. There was even a small amount of fret buzz. If I was to get exactly what I wanted from the instrument, I might have to do some work to it.
I took myself to the guitar shop today and explained the issue to the guy behind the counter. He immediately tried to talk me into the need for a setup — maybe a truss rod adjustment.
Here’s the thing: as much as I love guitars, I’m not a gear head per se; I love them for what they can do for me without needing or desiring any more tech knowledge than is needed to play decently. I’m not a professional musician, I’m a poet who has a passion for music. (Antique guitars, of which I have several, I love for their stories and history. But that’s another issue.)
So I became concerned that my instinct — that a set of phosphor bronze medium strings would solve the problem — was off. But I stuck to my guns, resisted the urge to turn it over to the shop, and bought the strings I thought would do the trick.
I just finished removing the brand new lights and putting on the bronze mediums…and I was right. The guitar now has enough of the brightness to make it sing and ring, but the bass has deepened and the slappy twanginess has all but vanished. I suspect that even that will disappear as the top opens up (meaning that as it’s played in the sound will develop, for those uninitiated into this stuff).
This may seem obvious to some of you, but it was a good reminder to me: there are times when you have to reach past your self doubt and reach for the thing you know will solve your dilemma. Although it may seem like folly to some to spend for a new set of strings to replace another new set of strings, I know there are players out there who will understand me when I say that we should never compromise on the tools we need to do our work, and to understand that the received wisdom of guitar techs, old-school poets, established painters and other approved sources is a starting point only. There are times to listen, and times to reach.
It was a small moment, but a good one. I think I’ll play now, if you’ll excuse me.
Dark Matter 