Years later though, when I found myself owning and operating a guitar store, it became the vintage gear that really spoke to me. I didn’t understand what these things represented, their historical value, or even just the roles they played in the music I listened to. Unfortunately, I didn’t really appreciate all the cool stuff I got to handle in my youth. I remember my guitar teacher telling me what an incredible guitar it was, and I told him it was “ok, but my buddy had a brand new Kramer that was bad ass!” When I wanted to take guitar lessons in the 9th grade, he found a 1974ish Les Paul Custom for me to rock some “Fly By Night” on. I recall another time my dad came home with four tobacco burst pre-CBS Strats he found through the local want ads. I remember coming home from high school one day, and my father and another guy were in our living room, holding and discussing a violin, that just happened to be a real Antonio Stradivari. My father was a high ranking member of the Illuminati-Ok, maybe not, but he was an expert in fine instruments, and in the day before the insta-knowledge of the internet, that seemed like a mystical power. While my home life may have mirrored a 90’s sitcom, there was one way my life was very different from most kids. I was extremely fortunate to have a great childhood (even though I didn’t get to go to Monsters of Rock.) My family was as middle of the sociological road as you could get caucasian, middle class, two parents, two kids and one dog (a Golden Retriever, just to seal the stereotype). Monsters of Rock came to town one year, that was a big deal. We rode skateboards, climbed trees, threw dirt clods at each other. No really!įor the most part, growing up in Spokane WA was pretty typical. Here’s the story of how I came to own the first commercially produced fretless bass.
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