So a couple weeks ago my wife came back from a trip to the mainland to visit the dump, and tells me that she stopped at a garage sale on the way home and bought me a present. When one spouse says this the other, the one who is facing a surprise that can run the gamut from delightful to horrific can only smile and hope for the best.
What my wife found were an electric guitar and an amplifier. When I asked what she paid, she proudly said: Twenty bucks. For the pair.
The guitar, a Stratocaster knockoff, was on the old side and looked like it might have been living under a bridge or stored in a barn, fairly grungy and the five surviving strings crusted with rust. The brand logo was mostly worn off; eventually I figured out that it was a Spectrum. I'd never heard of one before, and I'm guessing few have. The amp was old, and of a brand that I am dead certain neither Carlos Santana or St. Vincent ever used: Radio Shack. But they were, we agreed, worth twenty bucks just for the look on my face when I saw them. And for challenge value.
So that evening I pulled a replacement high E string from a spare set for my old Epiphone acoustic, strung it on, then prepared to see if trying to tune it would give my Snark tuner a nervous breakdown. I reached a tuned state of sorts.
The strings came off the nut fairly high, and the closer they got to the bridge the further into the stratosphere they rose. Still, it appeared marginally playable. So I plugged in the amp, pressed the power switch. The indicator light came on, and it made a faint buzzing sound which I hoped was not a disturbed hornet nest. To be honest I had expected the old amp to if not burst into flame, at least smoke worse than I do.
Cautiously I cabled the two together. Still no need for a fire extinguisher. So I hit a chord.
It sounded pretty bad. The old strings had already lost tune. I cranked them back into weary compliance, tried again, this time getting half notes and half electronic road rash because of dirty, worn-out controls on the amp. Still with a bit more fiddling it was mostly working. All three pickups were functioning, and I was not getting noise from the volume or tone knobs, or when I switched between pickups. I messed with it a bit longer, found some fairly decent sustain, then put it aside, thinking that with a bit of work I might be able to make it into a thirty dollar guitar.
A few days later it got the new set of strings I'd ordered. There was no adjustment for the neck, which was reasonably straight, considering, but it had come with the mechanism for tremolo--whammy--bar. No bar--or cover--but the mechanism allowed me to lower individual strings, putting them more within reach of the frets.
The new strings helped, as did the crude set-up. It was even playable once you got a couple frets up from the nut. Since I'd found and repaired an old set of over-the-ears headphones I was able to play for a bit without subjecting my wife to the horrible noises the amp periodically emitted. Even though it was her fault I was making them.
So the guitar could be played, and with a bit more work it might become a very funky but more or less functional instrument. It was easier on my old hands than my acoustic, and the ability to wander through the sustaining, soaring notes it could produce--in between the sound of clashing trash cans--had a certain strangely compelling attraction.
That foray into Electric Axe World launched a few days of struggling with my inner skinflint. I'm 5'7 and 130 pounds. My miser self resembles the late Andre the Giant. But my curiosity was aroused, so after a few go-rounds I broke down and ordered a small practice amp, a Fender Champion 20. It doesn't have much power, but I would be playing with headphones most of the time anyway. It does have amp modeling and such effects as chorus, reverb, and the like. Odd chords and sounds fascinate me, and this would provide them aplenty.
Next weekend, after the amp arrives I can start exploring what is possible with this $140 amp and $10 guitar--$16 if you count the new strings.
I will not be playing any stadiums any time soon with such equipment.
The low power is not the issue. I'm not sure what the opposite of a performer is called, but that's what I am. I don't have any need or urge to be seen or heard, and do not hunger to be cheered or adored. Crowds--something I define as more than two people within ten feet of each other--are something to be avoided by any means necessary.
If playing electric guitar somehow becomes a vital part of my practice routine, but my $16 special is just too funky for regular playing I already have a plan. I may try to engineer a hostage swap with a guy I know, one where I get to use a quite nice excess Epiphone Stratocaster-style he has stored in a closet, and he gets use of a rather decent but surplus Fender 12 string I have taking up space. If not, I can get a pickup for my acoustic and continue to make strange sounds for myself on that.
So, now that I have an electric guitar I am legally compelled to say: Rock on.
Yet I can add: Quietly.
Note: I have made earlier posts about my returning to guitar playing a couple years ago after a roughly 35 year hiatus, resurrecting my nearly 50 year old Epiphone 6 string acoustic—which I play for at least an hour every night. The first one, which explains either everything or nothing is available here.