“When you play the 12-string guitar, you spend half your life tuning the instrument and the other half playing it out of tune.” — Pete Seeger
I still cringe a bit when I think of a particularly uncomfortable Sunday afternoon from my youth. It was the summer of 1969 and somehow, probably because I was the owner of a guitar and amplifier with a grasp (however tenuous) of the major and minor chords, I was roped in to playing music with a few neighborhood buddies at a bake sale/youth gathering for one of the local church charities. Stuff like Hey Joe by The Leaves, Little Black Egg by The Nightcrawlers, and House of the Rising Sun by The Animals. I’m still not sure why I went along with this. Being an extremely shy kid who never volunteered for anything that might bring attention, it was completely out of character for me. I was full of anxiety and nervous as hell about it.
We had a so-so singer, a so-so lead guitar player, and a drummer and bass player who were both wannabe musicians and not bad for 16-year-olds. I was supposed to play rhythm guitar. Long story short – the bass player doesn’t show up. Quick discussion between the rest of us and suddenly I was elected to play bass on my six string electric guitar. I should have gone home right then. I did my best and tried to fake it but I was an embarrassment. We took a break after a few songs and one of the younger kids that had been watching us pointed at me and said to his friend, “That’s the dummy”. I was devastated, even though he was right. Lucky for me I never had a desire to be a performing musician because that right there, as silly as it might seem, put an end to my guitar playing in front of anyone.
So I’ve been what you might call a closet guitar player all these years, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it. My guitars have become good friends and playing them has truly been some of the best lifelong therapy I could ever have dreamed of. So screw you, little kid.