Music is a vital and integral part of my life. It connects for me to something deep, primitive and fundamental. Anything I am doing is improved with a soundtrack. A perfectly built chord progression can and has brought tears to my eyes or a laugh to my throat. The patterns of expertly crafted music are more powerful, more resonant to me than seeing a perfect sunset, eating a world-class meal or the feel of warm sun on a bright spring day. And the only reason I pick up a musical interest is in the hopes of tapping into that primitive, powerful place.
It’s pretty easy for me to keep track of how long I’ve owned a guitar. I got my first real six string from my now wife, who surprised me with an Alvarez acoustic in the late spring of 1995. It was and is a beautiful-sounding instrument with a rich, deep resonance — a resonance that I wouldn’t really learn how to unlock for months or perhaps years.
Buying me that guitar had been a leap of faith in more ways than one for my then girlfriend and now spouse of 17 years. I knew nothing about playing guitar, and odds at the time probably were that I’d pick at it a few times before admitting to myself that music was not then nor had ever been my forte. After all, playing guitar is not necessarily easy, and it requires time, passion and maybe a little bit of blood, too.