If you are like me, you probably spent weeks researching the perfect tonewood for your latest acoustic or agonizing over the pickup magnets in your new electric. However, I have
If you are like me, you probably spent weeks researching the perfect tonewood for your latest acoustic or agonizing over the pickup magnets in your new electric. However, I have
I remember the first time I walked into a guitar shop. I was twelve, my palms were sweaty, and I was looking for a single pack of strings. Instead, I
I’ve been there—standing on a dimly lit stage, the energy is peaking, the crowd is moving, and suddenly, I feel that sickening sensation of my instrument becoming weightless. For a
I remember the first time I held a genuine 1964 Stratocaster. It wasn’t just the smell of the nitrocellulose finish or the way the pickups hummed like a beehive in
I’ve been there. It’s the third hour of a grueling rehearsal, your 11-pound Gibson Les Paul is digging into your trapezius muscle like a dull saw, and you’re wondering if
I’ve been playing guitar for over fifteen years, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that a heavy Gibson Les Paul or a solid swamp ash bass will
I still remember the first time I handed my vintage ’74 Jazz Bass over to a TSA agent. My heart sank faster than a dropped anchor. If you have ever
I still remember the first time I took my vintage dreadnought out to a local open mic. I had it tossed in a flimsy, unpadded sack that I called a
Let’s be honest: your guitar isn’t just a piece of wood with some wires attached. It’s your creative partner, your late-night confidant, and—if you’re like me—probably the most expensive thing
I’ve spent a lot of my life on the road, and if there is one thing I have learned, it is that the world is a dangerous place for a