(a) you never keep them; and (b) in the oft-quoted words of a certain deceased ex-Beatle who recently had A Significant Anniversary, life happens while you’re making other plans.
The one thing which has been on the backburner for more new years than I care to remember, though, is that I must get a new guitar. I’ve been putting up with the same steel-string acoustic for too long and, notwithstanding frequent changes of excellent quality D’Addario strings, it just isn’t right for me, either in sound or build.
Personally, I blame my friend Phil for the whole circus of discontent surrounding the instrument. It all started with a rainy London afternoon many moons ago, jamming in the basement at Macari’s on Charing Cross Road. We picked up some acoustics and were knocking out a few tunes to pass the time when a cockney geezer came over and said to me, ‘Scuse me love, would yer mind tryin’ this aht for me? I’m buyin’ a present for me son and I can’t play. I wanna hear it first though.’ ‘Sure,’ I replied.
He handed over a beautiful custom-build cutaway by Manson Guitars. It fit me like a glove and sounded sweeter than an orchestra of harps. Now, I’m not prone to infatuation, but I fell in love immediately. ‘Cor, that sahnds great,’ chirped the cockney. I handed the guitar to Phil. With a growing smile he looked at me and said, ‘Flippen’ heck, Lisa. This is really nice.’
So I played a little longer and all the other guitars I’d ever tried swiftly paled into insignificance. Finally, said the cockney: ‘Excellent, I fink I’ll take it. Cheers!’ ‘How much is it?’ He scanned the instrument for the price tag. ‘Fifteen hundred quid? Yeah, that’ll do.’
Phil gave up badgering me to buy a new guitar ages ago (that one specifically). The unfortunate thing is that in the cold light of day, other more practical things always seem to get in the way of making a luxury purchase like this. So I’ve put it off and put it off, and the idea of owning a custom build has become a distant rest stop on the financial highway, a creative dream in a long litany of tedious journeyman accountancy. Eventually, Phil went off and spent a similar sum on a stunning Martin guitar for himself – as you do. I’ve played it. And it’s a very fine instrument indeed.
So ends the tale – for now, anyway. Wouldn’t it be lovely this year if I could ring Manson or Lowden up and finally say, ‘Can you make me a guitar?’ For every acoustic aficionado, it’s the ultimate treat. The alternative, of course, is that I snare an investment banker to get the moolar. ’Tis a small price to pay, surely?
Lisa Cordaro, January 2011
