WHAT THE HELL

Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like

Guitar porn

Guitar porn. Yes, it exists.

My wife is hoping to inherit a sum of money one of these days, and when she does she says she will allot a certain amount for me to buy a really decadently expensive archtop guitar. The kind that I could never reveal the cost of to other people because they’d say, You could send nine poor kids to college for that, you a**hole!

Not really. But you might be able to pick up a 2005 BMW 335i Coupe for a similar price.

I’d get a lot more enjoyment out of a handmade custom archtop than a 335i, though, I’ll tell you that much.

Look at these lovelies by independent luthiers like Bill Comins, Michael Lewis, and Ned Whittemore. Aren’t they magnificent? Aren’t they utterly obscene? Such curves. Such silky faces. Singing beauties. And I know from personal experience how wonderful they smell. Plunge your nose into one of their F-holes and take in the splendid aroma of sweet, raw tonewood. Stroke their ebony pickguards. Run your palm along the length of their perfect, velvety necks.

Like I said. Guitar porn.

Mr. Lewis, I’ve noted, is right up the road from me in Grass Valley. I could visit my new love while she’s being built, which – O, how am I to wait so long? – could take up to two years.

But this is all a pipe dream until my wife’s inheritance arrives. And I hate to root for someone to die so that I can fulfill a trivial wish, even if it helps a talented artisan put food on the table. So complicated.

I guess I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes. But meanwhile … guitar porn.

4 comments on “Guitar porn

  1. pinklightsabre
    September 29, 2017

    You’ll go blind!

  2. Priscilla
    September 29, 2017

    I totally get it. Guitars for you. Chocolate for me. Really, I get it. And fenders on 1937 Mercedes roadsters. I get it.

    • Kevin Brennan
      September 29, 2017

      Everybody has something. Some have more than one!

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This entry was posted on September 29, 2017 by in Music and tagged , .
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