"But this one, this is a really good guitar," Noah explained, as I stood befuddled, wondering how we got to this place yet again, this place where he's using Jedi mind tricks to convince me that another guitar is practically a necessity.
Three weeks ago he swung around the corner to our friend Vince's house, where a lonely Telecaster was languishing in his basement. "He's loaning it to me," said Noah. A few days later, he broached the subject: "You know, Vince said he was thinking of selling this guitar." Which was just a hop, skip and jump from Noah trolling Craigslist instrument listings and finding The Guitar, The One That He Really Needs.
He brought it home tonight. It is beautiful, I admit. I'm especially fond of the abalone inlays on the neck. But admiring its general cuteness is about as far as my comprehension can take me. My
"If you tweak this flange, the humengarder coil changes the tone for a crunchier feel. As you can see, by simply turning this dial and switching this pick-up, the sound is definitely brighter—although it's a lot more obvious when the volume is turned up high. Haha! So not only can you select this whatsit panel, or this one, but when placed in the center, you can combine the two!" Pause for expected outcry of pleased surprise and applause. "And just smell that case! Like new! Of course I'll have to get used to tuning with a double-sided headstock, but this one doesn't have that little tray, so palm muting will be much easier."
Unlike Steve Jobs and his developers, poor Noah didn't have a
"Oh, I see! So basically it's like one of those bras that the straps can go any which way."
He looked at me for a moment, sighed.