Thursday, 13 May 2010
Just a 1957 SS Stewart Archtop and Me
This weekend, dear friends, I fell in love. I spotted her from a distance. She stood by the staircase, quietly. As I admired her, it seemed as though she had everything I had been looking for. Style. Grace. Voluptuous curves. A perfectly formed head and neck. A sun-kissed complexion. One question burned above all others- how to get her attention? The guitar-shop owner played matchmaker. He carefully lifted her down from the shelf and placed her into my arms. I noticed a small mark on her body. She’d been treated rough. I would have to be gentle with her; she’d been hurt before. She seemed to say: “touch me, strum me, pluck my strings”. I sat her gently on my knee and together we dissolved in musical unity. The owner of the guitar shop told me she had ‘been around the block’. She’s been around since the 50’s; she’s had many owners. A lot of experience. But somehow that didn’t seem to matter. As I caressed her neck, she sang sweet melodies to me. I couldn’t see a way, in this crazy, mixed-up world, that we could ever be together. But for an hour, in a busy shop on Denmark Street, it was just the two of us. Just a 1957 SS Stewart archtop. And me.