with all my love.
Foreword
In the pages of this book you will read the stories of many guitarists who have reached the world with their guitars those who have affected us, changed us and stirred our emotions with their passion for this most wonderful of instruments.
The character of the guitar is such that it tends to bring about a relationship that is obsessive, engaging, unrelenting in its pull back toward that magic matrix of frets and strings. Probably, for most of the players in this book, this is a fact of life. The first guitar is then, by definition, the beginning of a musical life. It is the primary instrument that ignites the germinal instinct to make music, to pluck a string. And after all the other guitars that are sought, collected, lusted after, specially built, exchanged, bought back and cried over, it is the first guitar that has a special place, no matter how cheap, battered or unplayable it might have been. This first guitar is the herald, the awakener of the impulse to play and the impulse that will become a life-long rapport.
Just after my thirteenth birthday I was handed a battered old Spanish guitar by an uncle who had no use for it anymore. When he placed it in my hands I suppose I received the call, because it felt as if my heart had stopped beating, as if I had pulled Excalibur from the stone. I could not play a note but it didnt matter because I was so thrilled to have this object in my life. Aged and beaten as it was, I absolutely loved it, like a child with a tattered rag doll that is preferred to all the shiny new toys. With this first guitar my life changed as if, in an instant, an alchemy had taken place. I transformed from a typical rowdy English schoolboy who couldnt be bothered with homework, who was late for school, who made trouble with a pack of other boys, who sneaked into the pictures without paying into a hardcore guitar aficionado.
From here on I became a loner. Just me and the guitar, unless I was sitting and swapping chords with another aspiring guitarist. And it was on this first guitar, after I had finally got a sixth string for it, that I learned the rudimentary chords, ran my fingers up to the twelfth fret, twanged the low E string and finally learned how to tune it to the piano. This was the adventure, this was the thrill and the knowledge that had to be constantly sought after no matter how hard the battle. Later I moved to other guitars that were sleeker, faster, smoother in their response. But my first guitar, with its already lived life of a thousand songs, changes of strings and strummed chords, will always remain in my memory as the signifier, the flame that began the rest of my life.
Andy Summers,
solo artist and guitarist for The Police,
author of One Train Later
Prologue
My idea for writing this book came about in late autumn 2003, when the classical guitar duo Michael Newman and Laura Oltman had invited me to attend a house concert CD release party for a save-music-in-schools compilation of guitarists. The party was hosted in a Central Park West apartment with sky-high panoramic views overlooking the park. The place conveyed the fabulous kind of ease and generous space that one only sees in movies or else real estate ads printed in the back of the New York Times magazine.
The head of Tower Records classical music department muttered that the bathroom alone was bigger than his entire apartment. I darted between white-jacketed waiters bearing silver platters of hors doeuvres to search for Michael and Laura, and burst into a little girls frilly fantasy of a bedroom. There sat Gary Lucas of Captain Beefheart and songwriting collaborator of Jeff Buckley perched on the edge of a floral-patterned bed, dressed head-to-toe in badass black as he tuned his 1930s vintage nickel steel Dobro.
He peered at me from beneath the brim of his hat and grimaced. Then he decided to get up off this bed, with its heap of ruffle-edged pillows, and extended his hand for a proper introduction. I noticed that he left behind a staggering menagerie of mashed and flattened soft animals. A small pink giraffe teetered and tumbled over the edge of the bed and bounced against the floor.
This is the image that conceived this book. I knew that, in a few years, the toys would more than likely lose favor to newer infatuations, stuffed animals exchanged for musical heroes peering down from an array of posters taped up on the walls. Odds were, in a few years, a guitar would sit tucked in the corner.
Just how does anyone become so passionate about the guitar that they cannot imagine a life without it? Where does it all begin? I wanted to know how guitarists came into owning their first guitar and what made them realize they had found their lifes work.
I started aggressively pursuing whatever interviews I could with anyone who was willing. I chased down the not willing. I used my best facsimile of charm and wit. I stuck my foot into countless doors. I attended guitar festivals and, if no one assisted, I found my way through backstage labyrinths to corner rock legends, backing them up against the wall and cajoling them into telling me their stories. Sometimes, the story was tough to tell I could personally identify with the emotional catch in Joey Santiagos voice when he recalled what his father did to his guitar out of misguided parental concern. There had been entirely unexpected connections between some of the guitarists, such as Daron Malakians account of purchasing a guitar from his idol Tracii Guns when he was 17, long before Malakian became a rock star himself. Collecting these tales has been admittedly addictive because each story is as unique, compelling and illuminating as the performer.
The tales that emerged surprised even those in the guitarists inner circles, who had never heard some of these details before. Artists, especially rock stars, tend to be an over-interviewed lot. In fact, a few of my guitar-obsessed friends doubted some of my unearthed details simply because they had not read them before elsewhere.
My intent was simple to ask the artists to speak for themselves. There is beauty and music in ones own way of telling a story that is just as distinctive and unique as the tonal quality and instantly recognizable sound these artists are renowned for coaxing from the guitar.
It has been a privilege, a joy and an unforgettable experience for me to participate in such personal conversations with music legends. It is my hope that readers can see themselves within these stories and come to discover, or even rediscover, their own love for the guitar. And it is also my fervent hope that the passion in these fascinating stories encourages readers to expand their musical interests to genres that they might have not yet explored or considered.
Traveling Seven Hours for a Cup of Coffee
Many years ago, during a hiatus from college, I arrived at Londons Heathrow Airport wearing my sincerity and best dress with the misguided notion that I would be taken seriously for at least not looking like a grungy backpacker. I approached the stone-faced customs officer to explain the reason for my visit: I was a writer working on my first book. I planned to visit London for three days and spend the rest of my time hanging out with sheep in Ireland. The officer scrutinized the glaringly empty contents of my brand new passport, as blank as my unwritten book. She then sized up my youth and asked the fatal question: Whats the book about? Jet lag is its own truth serum. I told her I had no idea because I had only started writing it. Anything could happen, just like life itself. How can you accurately plot what may happen before you arrive?