The story continues from last year. . . . .
What followed was a sucsession of "planks", mostly from
second hand shops, that were my victims for the next few
months, selling ones that I had done to fund getting another one. Myself and three other friends were in a band at the time,
loads of enthusiasm but not much skill. It was during this time
that I was introduced to democracy.
"You can play the bass". Oh well, two less strings to worry about.
It was at this time that my dad and me decided to make a bass.
Boy was that a learning curve!
It was very crude and our attempts to calculate fret postions
weren't that accurate. The neck, with no truss rod, was best
described as erm, "Chunky" - a little on the thick side.
It did, however, play and this did the trick for a while.
I managed to persuede someone I knew, that the "Kay" or
Teisco bass he had was not for him, as he was better
on guitar.
I bought the bass and took it home for some of my
special treatment!
Over time, we all got better and thoroughly enjoyed getting
together to practice.
After about six months, we had a change around and I ended
up on guitar and the bass was handed over to my friend.
At this time I yearned for something better and during trips
into town, would stare into the windows of the local
music shops, dreaming!
This desire grew even greater when our bass player arrived
with a brand new bass!
It was an "Ibanez" Ric copy, thru-neck and was absolutely
georgeous.
I just had to have that black Les Paul copy, the one I had
been looking at for weeks.
At the time, it seemed like ages but I guess was only a few
weeks after the unveiling of the Ibanez, that I went into
town with my dad.
Now, I don't remember hounding him to get me this thing
of beauty but when I asked if we could drop by the music
shop, he said yes.
Anyone who remembers this experience, will know what I mean.
We walked in, I went straight to it and just stood there.
A black "Sumbro" Les Paul copy, it all it's glory.
"Do fancy a go", came from behind me, "I'll get it down for you".
The salesman lifted off the wall and handed it to me.
My palms began to sweat as he plugged it in and although
I could play at the time, all I had learned just vanished.
I sat there, fumbling up and down the board, two people
looking at me and it just was all going wrong.
The kind salesman said "it'll take a bit of getting used to"
which I took as "it suits you, buy it".
You cannot imagine my surprise when my dad said "do you
want that one"?
The rest of the transaction was just a blur and the next thing I
recall is being at home, in my bedroom - lead plugged into the
amp, here we go.
The next hour was electric, literally - my first real guitar,
plugged in and sounding so good.
I was Joe Walsh, Ritchie Blackmore, Jimmy Page,
Peter Frampton - in reality a very poor attempt at the heroes
of the time but I didn't care!
Didn't get much sleep that night!!!
This was the start of a life-long love of guitars.
Their looks, sounds, colours, switches, knobs, bridges,
anything connected with them, was of great facination.
The collection had begun!
