"Oh ..."

Today I'm going to deal with a kinda touchy subject, one that I often avoid.   I want to discuss that big nationwide chain of guitar stores in the USA.  You know the one I mean.  For now let's just call that store "Banjo Depot".

That is not the real name, but y'all know who I mean anyway.

Lots of guys love to bitch about Banjo Depot, but honestly I have been very satisfied with my local Banjo Depot stores (2 of them now).  I KNOW many of you have had unsatisfactory experiences there.  That sucks but truly I can't address that.  They have dealt with me in a straightforward professional & friendly way and I feel that I have a good working relationship with the staff at both locations.

But one habit I see every time I buy a guitar at Banjo Depot makes me frown.   At both of my local stores they do the exact same thing.

When I buy a guitar with a whammy I would like the man to go in the back room and come out with the "case candy" ... "bag candy?" ... the stuff.   My damned swag!   Every guitar on the racks is cataloged in the system with its serial number or some other such inventory identifier.   Is it so much to ask that the baggie with the bar, hex keys, and whatever-the-hell-else to be affixed to this identifier?   The more expensive the guitar the better the swag, but even $99 Squier Bullets come with a little bag-o-swag.   I know they do because I've bought them online and when I open the box I get to rejoice in a cheapassed guitar AND cheapassed swag!

But at Banjo Depot when I buy that same guitar  -or any guitar- I must not fail to proclaim " ... and I need my whammy bar."   The guy invariably looks down at the guitar, pauses, says "Oh ... "  (as if I'd suddenly proved to be a disappointing individual) ...








... then reaches under the counter to produce a tray that appears to be hosting a whammy bar orgy.

   He invariably starts fumbling through a couple hundred orphan whammy bars, trying some at random until if I'm lucky one seems to fit mostlykindadosrta.








Anywhere else when you buy even a low budget guitar you get some kinda bag-o-swag but at Banjo Depot you can pay six or seven hundred bucks and still get " Oh... ".

I've even been known on very rare occasion to take a train out of cheapassland and buy a guitar upscale enough to come with a matching gigbag.   In this scenario he sends a flunkee into the stockroom to fetch my gigbag,  I look in the those bag pockets to find ... no whammy bar.  Back to the orgy tray. 






I think we've pretty well established that I'm a skinflint

so it shouldn't be a surprise that I haven't bought a guitar that comes with hardshell case included since 1976.  

Its not that I don't have hard cases.   I do, but they've been acquired at random for chump change.   For God's sake I HOPE that if I bought a guitar snooty enough to bring its own damned coffin then the original dedicated whammy bar - as well as massive other glorious paraphenalia - would be there!

I dunno.  Anyone done so?   Nobody I hang out with.


My point isn't to start another round of people bitching about Banjo Depot.   God knows we get plenty of that.   I consider myself a Banjo Depot advocate most of the time.   I guess my point is to demonstrate that I'm not really on their payroll, I'm not really a Banjo Depot patsy,  and sometimes even I find something I wish they'd do differently.








I think they just like diggin' in the orgy tray.










Until next time,

© 2016 Ray Blowers

Old & Dazzled.

Recently a slender moon-eyed 20-something blonde approached me after a gig and asked "What new challenges do you find gigging as you approach age sixty?"



OK, that is bullshit.  I wasn't really approached by a lovely young woman after a gig. 

Nobody anywhere has ever asked me that question, but it is what I wanna talk about so I took a little artistic license.  Once I'd decided to lie about the question being asked it seemed that I might as well spice it up a tad, don't you think?   Hell, you get lied to far worse than that every time you watch the news. 

My story-telling above was innocent by comparison.  It could have been much worse - I considered describing her as "swooning 20 year old underwear model"  but I decided against it.   After all that would have been just tacky.  Even I have a max-tacky limit - really.


Anyway ... I am indeed approaching sixty all too rapidly.   Many changes have come about in all aspects of my daily life including my music experience,  but the thing that has been my biggest middle-age frustration with being a guitar freak may not be what you expect.


What, then, IS the problem with aging as a gigging guitarist?



Not the the lugging of heavy gear.









Even 2x12 all-tube amps are still subject to my will.  I shuck them around like a boss.  I know this will become an issue eventually, but it isn't yet.

It isn't that I can't stay up all night for gigs.  No problem there. 

I love the world when the music is hot and most "normal" people are snoozing.  Sometimes I'm still not ready for bed at 5 or 6 AM.

It isn't that I can no longer put on an energetic stage show.   That is not true at all.  When the downbeat strikes adrenaline flows, and my extra weight and middle-aged joints are forgotten.  I could barely hold still if I wanted to.

The main problem I'm having is:  (ready for it?)  Changing strings.  Seeing well enough to thread the end of the string through that shiny little hole in the machine head.

Its not bad on guitars with black or matte plated hardware, but when the tuners are chrome all the metal parts and the shiny metal string end seem lost in glare and bling and reflections.  My reading glasses aren't the answer, because it isn't simply about being able to see small details.   Reflections from the chrome interfere like a  layer of visual noise.

I'm not really sure now to fix this, but right now I need to go change another set of strings.  Maybe some combination of a flashlight and sunglasses?   I'm ready with those as well as a few other items I thought may help -   a magnifying glass, a "third hand" bench tool, a SONAR imaging machine from the Navy Surplus market, and 2 bottles of Tequila.  

If I don't manage to change any strings the tequila will help me not care anymore.

I suppose what I really need is a young eager hawk-eyed guitar student who is willing to change my strings for me. *sigh*