True Love

Today was one of those days that did not go as I had planned at all. On top of the usual stuff, I had to run Medium to the doctor to treat his infected pointer finger, which was nasty and spreading up his arm. I spent a lot of time in Boston traffic, listening to The Who, and wondering when I could get the hell out of the car, into my pajamas and write my blog. Because I have something wonderful to share. WONDERFUL. I bought a new guitar.

Before I praise her to the high heavens, and oh, how I will, I need to explain the SYMBOLISM of this guitar. Because it is indeed SYMBOLIC. At our show on Thursday, (yes, that one, which you did not go to, even though I asked you nicely), I played the guitar for two songs with a full-ass band of five, and it was the most fun I have had, musically, in a long time. Our previous lack of drummer had forced us into a period of acoustic duo-ness, which was fine, for a while. But truth be told, I have been waaaaaaaay bored with the quiet, the subdued and the sad. The full band stuff was loud and rocky and dirty, and after it was done and we kicked the ass of that Radiohead cover , it was abundantly clear that I have entered a period of loud, rocky and dirty. I looked at the guitar I was playing, a sweet little Fender Mustang that BELONGS TO MY TEN YEAR OLD SON, and I thought, Make a Commitment. To ROCK. His guitar is perfect, but it is his, and I needed to find a perfect one for me. And thus, anticipating snow and parked in front of my computer screen, I spent Saturday night on Craigslist and found my new baby. My Fender Mustang. Mine.

Beautiful and small, with a tone that can be sweet or nasty. She fits me like a glove, cools me up, makes me confident, makes me feel like playing power chords is possible. She doesn't have a mark on her, and is a beautiful shade called Daphne Blue. When I took her to Guitar Hero Jim Mouradian's shop today, and I saw her out of the case and on his workbench getting adjusted, I was so happy that I felt almost ridiculous. Luckily, Medium was checking out the selection of vintage amps and didn't see me surreptitiously wipe a tear from my eye. I look at this guitar and I want to write, and sing, and use distortion, have a fuckload of pedals that do random things and an amp that I know how to use. I want to play shows that take people's breath away. I want it to feel new again. And I look at this guitar, and it does.

So, 2010 is the Year of Rawk for Sugar Snow. What that means yet, I don't know, but I can tell you this--at the next show, I will have an amp of my own, a tuning pedal that I know how to use and my new guitar, with it's pickups, knobs and whammy bar. And this one you must go to. Don't you want to see if I hurt myself?