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Why do you guys (and gals) play guitar???

onewilyfool

By onewilyfool
in Gibson Acoustic

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sjl200

sjl200

Posted
Posted

For me , since I was very young Music was important. I play because I must be an active part of something that gives me so much enjoyment .

I love the sound of guitars,always have.

Playing keeps me in direct contact with many memorable times in my life.

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DanvillRob

DanvillRob

Posted
Posted

I've stated multiple times about all the guitar players in my family.... so it was just natural for me to also play.

 

But..... I wanted to address Milo's comments..... I worked in a music store back in the mid 60's. My 'main' job was to deliver pianos.

 

That evolved into minding the counter, (selling guitars, horns, harmonicas, metronomes, etc..etc...etc...., teaching guitar, and even waxing the floor after the store closed).

 

But when I had 'spare time', I'd sit at a piano and put what I knew about guitar/music onto the black & white keys.

 

The piano is so....logical..... If you want to know what note to add to make a 9th chord...the piano is the place to do that easily.

 

I LOVE the piano....but difficult to take to friend's homes to entertain!

 

Also, when I get 'stuck',on a song I'm learning on piano, I revert back to the guitar, where I'm more comfortable.

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Mojorule

Mojorule

Posted
Posted

they just get you in trouble , just ask molly what happened to james :-/

 

D'yer reckon Banner Gibsons get you into trouble?

 

Said Lauren Sheehan to John Thomas, 'That's a fine instrument,

A girl could feel special with such accompaniment.'

Said John Thomas to Lauren Sheehan, 'My hat's off to you.

It's a Gibson Southern Jumbo 1942.*

I've seen you at blues festivals and open mics it seems,

Blue cotton and a sunburst, a nifty colour scheme.

And his fingers sped away,

And through the whole of Freight Train they did play.'

 

* All right, all right, it's a mythical beast. Make allowances for poetic licence.

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blindboygrunt

blindboygrunt

Posted
Posted

D'yer reckon Banner Gibsons get you into trouble?

 

Said Lauren Sheehan to John Thomas, 'That's a fine instrument,

A girl could feel special with such accompaniment.'

Said John Thomas to Lauren Sheehan, 'My hat's off to you.

It's a Gibson Southern Jumbo 1942.*

I've seen you at blues festivals and open mics it seems,

Blue cotton and a sunburst, a nifty colour scheme.

And his fingers sped away,

And through the whole of Freight Train they did play.'

 

* All right, all right, it's a mythical beast. Make allowances for poetic licence.

 

you're a gas mojo :D

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AnneS

AnneS

Posted
Posted

I was about 7 years old when I picked up my brother's guitar (still have that '64 LG-1). I don't know why I had to play it, but I did.

 

I don't know what would make a 7-year-old have to do that--but then, as I my kids grew up, I remember noticing that my oldest always had to have crayons or scissors or glue nearby. She had to make stuff, from the earliest age. It's like art chose her, and sometimes I think that's how music was and is for me.

 

Even during periods where I don't play much and the guitars are closed up in their cases--I feel them in there, breathing and alive and waiting, and it's never too long before I have to go make things right again.

 

It's the music that needs to be played, it seems, and some of us lucky ones have been chosen to be at the ready for the job at hand--to find an undiscovered song out there or to give some old, well-worn tune another turn or two around the room.

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Mojorule

Mojorule

Posted
Posted

you're a gas mojo :D

 

There's more:

 

Says John Thomas to Lauren Sheehan, ‘Here’s a pick for your right hand,

But I tell you in earnest I’m a dangerous man.

For I’ve taught corporate law since I was seventeen,

And I’ve put many a guitar through my X-ray machine.

Now I’ve written a book, I might make a CD,

But I can only do the recording if you help me.

And if behind the mixing desk I must stay,

I’ll lend you my Gibson to play.’

 

‘Come down, come down Lauren Sheehan,’ says the sound engineer,

‘For John Thomas has booked time in the studio here.

Banners from all over the world have arrived in our racks,

Come down Lauren Sheehan and record these here tracks.’

And she came to the studio overrun with guitars,

John Thomas said, ‘They’re so much nicer than cars.’

And he smiled to see her stay,

And he gave her a Gibson to play.

 

Says John Thomas, ‘In my opinion, there’s nothing in this world

Beats a ’42 Gibson in the hands of a girl.

Now Martins and Maurers and Nationals won’t do:

They don’t have a soul like a Gibson ’42.

And he reached for her hand and he slipped her the neck,

He said, ‘I’d better make my way back behind the deck.

I hear angels on LG1s with banners and scripts,

Swooping down from heaven with my finished manuscript.’

And he took one last bracing X-ray,

And he gave her his Gibson to play.

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j45nick

j45nick

Posted
Posted

I was about 7 years old when I picked up my brother's guitar (still have that '64 LG-1). I don't know why I had to play it, but I did.

 

I don't know what would make a 7-year-old have to do that--but then, as I my kids grew up, I remember noticing that my oldest always had to have crayons or scissors or glue nearby. She had to make stuff, from the earliest age. It's like art chose her, and sometimes I think that's how music was and is for me.

 

Even during periods where I don't play much and the guitars are closed up in their cases--I feel them in there, breathing and alive and waiting, and it's never too long before I have to go make things right again.

 

It's the music that needs to be played, it seems, and some of us lucky ones have been chosen to be at the ready for the job at hand--to find an undiscovered song out there or to give some old, well-worn tune another turn or two around the room.

 

 

Anne,

It's good to see you here. We miss your songs.

 

-Nick

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j45nick

j45nick

Posted
Posted

There's more:

 

Says John Thomas, ‘In my opinion, there’s nothing in this world

Beats a ’42 Gibson in the hands of a girl.

Now Martins and Maurers and Nationals won’t do:

They don’t have a soul like a Gibson ’42.

And he reached for her hand and he slipped her the neck,

He said, ‘I’d better make my way back behind the deck.

I hear angels on LG1s with banners and scripts,

Swooping down from heaven with my finished manuscript.’

And he took one last bracing X-ray,

And he gave her his Gibson to play.

 

 

Awesome!

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