Family accounts

[alanp]

What are some stories of guitar-related family love?

I've got a couple, to kick off with.

Grand-dad had an old acoustic guitar he picked up -- a Tex Morton guitar, white, with a thick black line-art picture of a cowboy with a lasso circling above his head. It passed to Dad, who is insistant that it's horrible at staying in tune, and honestly doesn't sound that good. (Dad rocks a Yamaha acoustic, that he has used for a couple decades, every single week at church, along with a Boss AD-7. The AD-7 is taken out of the original cardboard box, used at the practice and service, and then put back in the original cardboard box, again, every week for roughly a decade. The box is getting pretty tatty, by now!) And as for the Yamaha... the case it came in had a carry handle, as do all guitar cases (well, new, anyway...) Dad has used it regularly for so long that the cheap handle wore through and broke off. There's a braided length of rope there, now, with some tassels Mum found. I suspect that the tassels have worn off, too, now.

When I started playing guitar, I wanted an ELECTRIC! After all, Noel Gallagher and Zakk Wylde played electric.

As do a great many guitar newbies, I picked up a strat. (A Satin Trans Fat Squier HH, on the basis of Dad's argument that satin would not show fingerprints as bad as glossy, plus then I'd be getting a really nice guitar for $500, and save up for an amp later, as opposed to a crappy $300 guitar, and maybe an amp a bit sooner.)

"Dad! Have a try of this!"

Now, to understand this situation, you need to know how Dad's Yamaha is set up. Light strings. The lightest acoustic strings he can get. A very light pick. I think that it's the lightest Dad can normally find. (Pure white Dunlop.) He makes up for this by vigorously strumming the living crap out of both.

Guess what happens when you vigorously strum the crap out of a Strat. Whether Dad liked the sound or not, he was going to be playing on the Bridge pickup on my Strat.

There was also the ergonomic problem -- namely, that the Strat knew it existed. For those people who have never played "Grandpa Guitars" (to quote Skwisgaar), they are large, boxy, jam you in the ribs, and laugh at the idea of comfort. My Strat, with it's belly carve, and the fore-arm cutaway bit... simply put, Dad was too comfortable to be comfortable.

So I took him into the nearest Rock Shop NZ. "Dad, have a try of this Les Paul."

Les Paul guitars have no time for this cutaway nonsense. The closest you get to THAT on a Les Paul is the high fret access cutaway, and that's for technical ability, not to make the mook doing the movement feel better.

Dad LOVED the Les Paul, with it jamming him in the ribs, and the top edge making itself known on his left forearm. (Mum, on the other hand... it took a few years and a couple presents later before she felt that the Mother-Son Father-Son love bank balance was equal.)

[Muadzin]

My family is part Indonesian, or as its called Indo. We went to the Dutch East Indies in the 18th century to probably partake in the colonial exploitation as was customary in those days and kind of went native, henceforth being part Indonesian. During WWII we got to enjoy the hospitality of the internment camps of the Japanese army and afterwards the warm reception of the locals as they had risen up in rebellion to gain independence. Since we had been part of the colonial exploitation by the Netherlands Indo's weren't exactly the most popular people. After local harassment got to much those Indo's that remained after independence left to return to the motherland in the 1950's most of them had never seen. Which wasn't that very welcoming to those who had worked and bled for them in the former colony. A sore point to many elderly Indo's to this very day. Here endeth the history lesson.

Anyway, when rock 'n roll came to the Netherlands in the late 50's and early 60's Indo's were very quick to embrace it. They developed their own musical variant, called Indo rock, which seems to include influences of country and Everly Brothers style vocal harmonies. My father had two brothers and they all picked up instruments and started out making music. From what I could gather not much came of it other then a few photos.

There's a Dutch saying called 12 crafts, 13 accidents, which usually applies to a person who sucks at everything he tries to do, as everything he does ends up in failure. This seems to have applied to my father. Who went from job to job, and trying to set up several businesses. None of which lasted very long. Most went by unnoticed by me as a small kid but two have stood out to me. When I was born my father had joined the Dutch Air Force as what they called a short term volunteer, a professional soldier who joins up for a 3 year contract. To early for me to notice but in later years I got to play with some 'souvenirs' of that period, like an ammo box and an inert iron practice bomb, a dud a meter long, that was used to train Starfighter pilots to bomb the Russian horders if WWIII ever came to pass.

The other job that stood out to me, if only because in some of my earliest memories I remember being there, was that my father and his youngest brother started a professional top 100 cover band. This was the day before the accursed DJ and his records would take over and dance halls would become discoteques. Instead a legion of bands would earn a living playing in the latest hits in dance halls. So some of my earliest memories revolve around playing somewhere in a dance hall as my father's band was rehearsing. Called Blue Note they had my father on bass guitar and his younger brother on guitar and vocals.

Like all ventures of my father it eventually also came to an end and like that iron practice bomb relics of that time also came in my hands, like cassette tapes of some of their rehearsals. Which is a VERY bad thing to give to a small kid as I taped over them (bowes head in great shame). A more lasting relic was a Hoffner electric guitar, one that I liked to playback along to my favorite music for many years.

That beaten up Hoffner survived probably at least 15 years of my abuse before I was finally bitten by the curse to take up music myself. At first we tried to have it repaired, but it really was either a shitty guitar to start with, or my years of abuse were to great. Even restored I just couldn't do much with it. I think I sold it for next to nothing to a friend.

A new guitar and also an amp was needed. This was the late 80's and my father had finally managed to set up a business that was stable and earned a profit. So there was finally some money to spend and he took us to the music store where he had bought all the musical equipment for his old band, so he knew the owner. For many a year that place would become my musical walhalla, my little piece of heaven, where I would buy guitars, effects and amps. And generally drool over various new stuff I couldn't afford. As my newfound musical dedication was still considered a potential fad my father refused to spend any money on a new guitar. Instead he chose a 200 guilders (around $100 at that time) cheap 2nd hand Japanese Les Paul copy for me. I cannot fault his reasons, they were sound and the guitar wasn't that bad. It served me well for a while, although it didn't instill a love for Les Pauls in me. Oddly enough while he didn't think money should be spent on a decent guitar he felt a good amp however was in order. Because a good amp would retain its value he reasoned. So he bought me a 2nd hand silverface Fender Twin Reverb for 1200 guilders (which I think was $600+ around that time).

That old Japanese guitar I've ditched within a few years, in fact the head stock broke when it fell forward from its guitar stand, but that Twin is still with me. I love the sound of that amp. It has cemented my love for all things Fender, and a Fender clean sound. I don't use it much because it is heavy as a ton of bricks, so why Fender only put one hand grip on it, as opposed to two on a Vox AC30 is utterly beyond me. So it currently sits in a flight case, but I will never part with it, as I plan to be buried in it. I also consider it my connection to my late parents, as it was my mother who encouraged me into making music it was my father's sound advice to get this jewel of an amp.




Sadly enough he never played on it as he completely stopped making music, or playing any instruments after the demise of his last band. Which to me is the saddest thing ever as I can not contemplate a life not making music or playing an instrument.

Oddly enough me taking up an instrument inspired my father's youngest brother to take up his again, and I heared he became quite a guitar collector. And of the three brothers who each got two sons, they all ended up having one who became a musician as well.

[john_p_wi]

Maudzin, I can only affirm your story. My exe's family, born in Indonesia to Asian mothers - were flushed out during WWII and traveled to the Netherlands. They finally relocated to the US in 1964. Very proud people who lost everything and have horrific stories to tell. Wonderful elderly people now who I love dearly.

Sadly, even though I bought my two girls mini strats when they were 8, neither had the interest to learn...