How to Find the Best Guitar for You

by Craig Pettit

I always loved the music of Jimi Hendrix. I loved his songs, his guitars, his Woodstock performance…everything. When he sat his guitar on fire, I was amazed. The flames consuming that beautiful musical instrument, to me, seemed to honor it instead of defile it. Much in the way that Pete Townsend smashed his prized guitars to shreds during some of his momentous performances, there was magic to be found in the guitar, not only in the people who used them to produce some of the most memorable melodies, harmonies and licks the world has ever known. While I became enamored of the musicians who made such great music, I found myself equally enamored of the guitar itself, becoming increasingly interested in learning to play the instrument.

From the first moment I heard “Little Wing” I was in awe with the chord progression solo and the sheer beauty of the song. It truly was a masterpiece, and from that moment on, I was hooked! I then threw down $200 bucks, buying a cheap guitar that I was determined to learn how to play. I gradually progressed to more expensive guitars as my ability grew. I became a guitar aficionado. I was turned on by all kinds of guitar-driven music from ZZ top to Metallica and virtuosos such as Eric Johnson, Joe Satriani, Stevie Vai, and Yngwie Malmsteen. I was also drawn to the heavy, but precise, sounds of Slash, Dave Mustaine, and Richie Sambora. The funky licks of John Frusciante and the innovative sounds of Tom Morella were so intriguing to me.

From the earliest rockers like Chuck Berry and Blues legends like Albert King, BB King, Eric Clapton and Stevie Ray Vaughn, the electric guitar has influenced me. I realized that the sounds made by these men originated from these pioneers of blues, country, classical, jazz, and so on. I loved the progression they and many others made on the electric guitar. To compare the previously mentioned guitarists to athletes, you would have to say that they compare to the talents exhibited by the likes of Michael Jordan, Jack Nicklaus, Joe Montana, and Hank Aaron. There are standouts in every arena of talent, and the aforementioned guitarists impressed me the most.

At this point, my abilities had significantly grown. Therefore, it was time to upgrade to the better and more expensive guitars my idols used. So, I saved up enough money to buy me a used 1996 Fender Stratocaster. The guitar was yellow in color. It became my prized possession. However, after the expensive purchase of the guitar, my wallet was a little light, so I was forced to buy a cheap amp, even so I felt as though I was on top of the world. I later upgraded some of my pickups and put on new strings and tuners. At this point, I was ready to go. Let me stress this fact once more: I loved that guitar!

After a few years of heavy playing, the kind that makes your hands super rough, the paint on the guitar started to wear off, so I decided to refinish the body. However, instead of resorting once again to the same old boring yellow color, I decided to give it a little more flair. And what better than a picture of the man who got me started playing the guitar in the first place: Jimi Hendrix. To accomplish this, I was lucky enough to find a very talented artist in the small town I lived in. She agreed to do the art work for me for the reasonable fee of $400. After some waiting, I received a call informing me that my guitar was finished. Excited, I raced down the street, as the artist happened to live in very close proximity to me. I was barely able to breathe! I was in complete and total shock at how well the mural had turned out. At that point, I had an auto body shop apply a clear coat to the body of the guitar, just to ensure the brilliant artwork was extra durable. And thanks to that extra measure, the guitar still looks astounding today! What did I have painted on my prized possession, you ask? Well, who do you think? The answer is my rock hero, Jimi Hendrix, of course!

After adorning my axe just the way I wanted it, I then went for years playing this guitar almost every day. Although I later bought more expensive guitars, none proved more special to me. As it happens, I stored my guitars and amps in the back room where I worked, which happened to be a Youth Center in town. I would play them throughout the day when I was not busy, or when I was on breaks. During that time, I got a lot of practice time in. I learned a lot of songs and practically every chord. I even showed some of the children who frequented the Youth Center how to play the guitar. At the day’s end, I would lock up my instruments and music equipment in my office. Then, I would come in the next day and start it all over again: learning, teaching and utterly loving the guitar. And while those times are certainly nice to reflect upon, what happened next certainly is not!

As I did every day, I awoke and prepared for work. After finishing up a shave and shower, I arrived at work and noticed that the lock on the front door was damaged, appearing to have been tampered with. I became frantic! I then went straight into the room where my music equipment was stored. Well if you haven’t guessed by now, it was all gone. And by gone, I mean everything was missing, save for the guitar picks. I subsequently called the police and told them what had happened. They took fingerprints and the whole nine yards. I asked the officer what the chance of finding my stuff was. He said he didn’t know, but they would do everything they could to recover my property. Needless to say, I was sick! I just knew I would never see my “Excalibur,” as I called it back then. The total worth of the equipment was not my concern, only my prized guitar. While it was not the most expensive guitar, it certainly was the most important to me.

Weeks went by with no leads. Nothing. No calls or anything. I began to worry even more. A this point, I was starting to give up hope of ever getting my things back. After months went by, a regular visitor of the Youth Center came by and asked if he could speak to me in private. He said he had an idea of who might have taken my things. At that point, I offered him a reward, a reward which he refused to take. I forwarded the information to the police, who then went on to question the suspects. They said they didn’t know anything and were not involved with the burglary.

One month went by when I received a call from the police station telling me that the guitar and amp were found in a city 30 miles away in the first pawn shop you come across. After questioning the pawn shop manager, he gave us a copy of the driver’s license of the person who pawned my things. The person had been involved in many robberies and other crimes in the past, and at the time this person was on probation. After he was picked up and questioned, I learned that he was not the only one involved. It turns out that the individuals questioned by the police didn’t have a valid driver’s license, so they got this person to pawn my things for them. Although I never got all of my things back, I got back the one possession that meant the most to me, my guitar. I may not play it every day anymore, but I still smile every time I see it.

This guitar has a story of its own, like all things special to people find important to them. And I am thankful to have gotten mine back when most people aren’t so lucky. People who steal anything should just stop and think about what that thing they’re stealing might mean to someone and how they would feel if they lost something special to them. I know that this isn’t a perfect world, and everyone makes mistakes, but just stop and think before you act! Although you may not feel you lose directly when you steal something, I can assure you someone else does. I understand the argument that everything can be replaced and we can’t take our possessions with us when we die, but the memories and experiences surrounding these items given to us are unique, and that can’t be replaced and it can be taken with us.