I have three guitars, all second-hand, none of them very good, but I love them. I love plinking away at the two or three strings and seeing what I can make them do. I haven't progressed very far in the decade or so that I've been doing this.
I also have two harmonicas, one of them I got for Christmas when I was fifteen or sixteen. I'm okay on the harmonica. About as okay as someone can be who isn't getting paid.
We also have a piano that we got for free. It's a 1951 Baldwin Acrosonic. I'm hopeless on that thing, although I love banging away on it.
I've always been a make-do sort of guy. Just take what's there and see what it can do. My first guitar came to me after a friend of mine was sick of it and decided to kick his foot through it. The body was crushed and the neck was broken clean off. It wasn't any good to begin with, but I couldn't just let my friend throw it out, so I scooped it up and carried it back to my house. I applied a great deal of hot glue and duct tape, bolted the neck back on, restrung it and, hey, presto! I had a crappy guitar. It was the best thing ever and it was too good for me.
Music has always been an elusive passion of mine. I've never been good enough to produce it and I've never known enough to talk about it. It's one of those things that I just have to love from a distance. Aside from a little three-string pluckery, I won't trespass.
Thank you,
Matt Beers
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