Weekend Guitar Adventure: The Re-String
Saturday I got up early, slipped my Oscar Schmidt into her new black canvas carrying case and took her on her first trip to the city. The subway was running funkily (thank you, L train) so it took a good 45 minutes to get to the Guitar Center on 14th Street, but the trip was worth it.
Sidenote: you get lots of interested looks when you're a girl carrying a guitar on the subway. I could almost imagine all the hipster guys around me wondering....does she really know how to play??
The answer is, of course, no. But someday soon! I mean it!
Anyhoo, after making it through the Gestapo at the front door of the Guitar Center (they took the guitar all the way out of the case, looked inside it, wrote down its details, my name, asked me pertinent questions, blah blah blah--all before I even entered the store) I was directed to a small counter just inside the door where three cool looking guys were hard at work repairing electric guitars. They were the Guitar Tech guys, I was to find out, with Paul as their fearless leader. Paul was closest to me when I arrived so he gave my acoustic the initial look-see. With little to no effort on his part, he upgraded me a full $30--from a basic re-stringing to an overall tune-up. Sigh. I'm such an easy mark. But I do believe I got my money's worth, especially since he let me stand there and gawk while he did everything. I even took notes.
While I was there, he tightened my tuners, gave the instrument a thorough cleaning, made an adjustment to the . . . I can't remember what the name of it is, but it's that little plastic ridge thing just north of the pins, that holds the strings up off the fretboard. Most importantly, he gave me lots of tips on the care and upkeep of my little beauty.
Some of the more interesting details I learned while standing there: it turns out there was a spider living inside the guitar (ick); one should wipe down the strings with a cotton t-shirt every time she plays; lightweight strings are easier to play if not as resonant; one should only use lemon oil on the fretboard of her guitar; Paul gets parking tickets all the time. He got one while I was there, in fact.
He also suggested a guitar instructor he knows and trusts, which was great since I think I may be ready for some real-live help.
The only embarassing part was when he handed the guitar to me to test out the new strings. And I couldn't play a damn thing. Not after watching him and his two guitar guys trying out the instruments there and effortlessly picking and playing. My little strummed Tangled Up in Blue wouldn't have lasted five seconds in their company.
For now, it seems, I am the Guitar Girl only in the privacy of my own home. But someday--someday!--the world will know of my great talent.
Sidenote: you get lots of interested looks when you're a girl carrying a guitar on the subway. I could almost imagine all the hipster guys around me wondering....does she really know how to play??
The answer is, of course, no. But someday soon! I mean it!
Anyhoo, after making it through the Gestapo at the front door of the Guitar Center (they took the guitar all the way out of the case, looked inside it, wrote down its details, my name, asked me pertinent questions, blah blah blah--all before I even entered the store) I was directed to a small counter just inside the door where three cool looking guys were hard at work repairing electric guitars. They were the Guitar Tech guys, I was to find out, with Paul as their fearless leader. Paul was closest to me when I arrived so he gave my acoustic the initial look-see. With little to no effort on his part, he upgraded me a full $30--from a basic re-stringing to an overall tune-up. Sigh. I'm such an easy mark. But I do believe I got my money's worth, especially since he let me stand there and gawk while he did everything. I even took notes.
While I was there, he tightened my tuners, gave the instrument a thorough cleaning, made an adjustment to the . . . I can't remember what the name of it is, but it's that little plastic ridge thing just north of the pins, that holds the strings up off the fretboard. Most importantly, he gave me lots of tips on the care and upkeep of my little beauty.
Some of the more interesting details I learned while standing there: it turns out there was a spider living inside the guitar (ick); one should wipe down the strings with a cotton t-shirt every time she plays; lightweight strings are easier to play if not as resonant; one should only use lemon oil on the fretboard of her guitar; Paul gets parking tickets all the time. He got one while I was there, in fact.
He also suggested a guitar instructor he knows and trusts, which was great since I think I may be ready for some real-live help.
The only embarassing part was when he handed the guitar to me to test out the new strings. And I couldn't play a damn thing. Not after watching him and his two guitar guys trying out the instruments there and effortlessly picking and playing. My little strummed Tangled Up in Blue wouldn't have lasted five seconds in their company.
For now, it seems, I am the Guitar Girl only in the privacy of my own home. But someday--someday!--the world will know of my great talent.
posted by Kelly at 6:25 PM
3 Comments:
Guitar Girl is a Q-T!
The little plastic ridge thing is call the, how do you say it in English, the bridge.
Really doesn't make much difference what you do with the guitar as long as you get blisters on your finger tips.
Snapping out,
D
Thanks, D! The bridge. Riiiiight. :)
Post a Comment
<< Home