WISDOM
Last year I was asked by the Musician’s Institute to deliver a commencement address for their graduating class. It provided an opportunity for me to reflect upon the music business, my role in it, and how I got here.
When I look back, I see the two sides of my upbringing coming together in my life: the love my father had for music and his business acumen. I was able to fuse the passion for one with the instinct and drive of the other. I have been inordinately lucky. So many people more talented than I have been casualties of the lifestyle that often seems to go with music.
I remember when I was a young man being visited by the encyclopedia salesmen. In their trunks were twenty-six large books, the sum “knowledge” of our culture, which would become obsolete every few years. Needless to say, the world has changed drastically. Now with the push of a button on a computer, you can find the latest information on anything in the world instantaneously.
The music world also looks very different from the one I tried to break into fifty years ago. It’s pretty hilarious to see how primitive it all was back then. I have lived through the period of deep transition from hit radio and singles to the Album Oriented Rock format, LPs to CDs, MP3s, file sharing, and the crisis of the big music companies. Income drivers like publishing rights and protection of intellectual property have gone away. Everything seems to be in flux. That’s why it’s important to be flexible, whatever you pursue, to be able to roll with all the punches that come.
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I reminded the graduates of MI that I was not a great student, and I stayed in school only to avoid the draft. I have limited abilities in many aspects of life. Like my old buddy Dan Duehren says, “Norm couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel!”
What I did do was find something I loved and carved out a business from it. That was my main message—find something you love, and then put all your effort into it. Put in your hours and your time. Most of what I learned came from a practical, hands-on approach. Nothing teaches better than actual experience and years of doing one thing.
Having that drive is an important part of success, I believe. You have to be decisive, and strike while the iron is hot. If any guitars came my way, I was going to land them! Fifty years later, I still am willing to get out of bed and drive at two in the morning, if it means I’ll have first crack at something great. I still get a rush from it. My joy is in the buying, not the selling. The selling just fuels my buying, in the end.
On the flipside, nothing stalls out more in life than procrastination. My business has born that out, because if you don’t show up with the money and are not willing to step up, you could lose that once-in-a-lifetime guitar. You need to know your product and be ready to make a deal.
My business is unusual, because it’s one of the only ones that can grow, even if your inventory isn’t moving. Any other business would have to fold up if things aren’t selling. In fact, it’s crazy because the longer I’ve held on to some instruments, the more valuable they’ve become.
Also, because I was a stickler for originality and condition back when nobody cared about that, I was just a little ahead of my time. Guitars transitioned from mere tools of the trade to collectible classics. People thought I was nuts when I was willing to pay more for an old guitar than a new one, but they turned out to be a great investment.
I have inadvertently become a protector of vintage guitars. Many of the guitars in my collection have become a reference point for Fender and Gibson when they want to build reissues. Incredibly, nobody really knew what Fender “sonic blue” actually looked like, because lacquer and exposure to air changes a guitar’s color over time. Luckily, I was able to help Fender out, because I had some pristine examples in my collection.
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I firmly believe, even though there are many fine guitars being built today, that nothing will ever equal the great guitars of the past. The materials just do not exist anymore. There is no more old-growth Adirondack spruce, rosewood, or the same alloys and metals used in guitar pickups. There are no more old artisans who worked in the guitar factory, carving and tap-tuning archtops like there used to be.
On the surface, many reissues might look the same as the originals, but there is a difference. They can never be truly duplicated, because the old guitars represent the traditional know-how that existed back then, before computer technology entered the picture. Each guitar had its own individual footprint.
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People often ask me if I see any recent technological innovations in guitar making. Aside from a few things like clip-on tuners, little has been added to guitars that is an improvement over everything that’s come before. That holds as true today as it did fifty years ago. I can point to the tune-o-matic bridge, the cutaway, and the humbucking pickup as designs that really enhanced the utility of guitars, but they’ve been around for decades.
We’re in an age of incredible technological leaps. Music can practically be made without any live musicians. I’ve been to more and more performances where people sing to prerecorded tracks, and the audience doesn’t seem to notice any difference. To me, this artificial perfection lacks soul, as well as the spontaneity that can arise during live creation with real musicians.
The good news is musicians have become a lot more serious about their art and craft, thankfully. Someone like Joe Bonamassa, who I’ve known since he was twelve years old, epitomizes the new professionalism of the breed. All those old blues musicians I played with were content to grind it out on the road in small clubs and were barely able to survive. Joe has a focus and purpose to his career, is approachable and talented, and as a result, it has taken off. He certainly deserves all his success.
Musicians today are more practical. They have to be. Gone are the excesses of living high on the hog, the limos, and the multiple wives (for the most part!). Young musicians today have a past history to learn from. They understand that a career doesn’t go on forever. Eventually, the ride will end, unless your band’s name is the Rolling Stones.
I know much of my story involved drugs, and I want to make it clear, I don’t condone that behavior. I’m just trying to keep it real. With age, I can now see how destructive drugs were, on so many levels. Using drugs truly is “playing with fire,” and I was lucky I didn’t get burned.
The truth is, every generation has to rebel. Even if the young listeners seem to be into more processed electronic music, the pendulum will swing back eventually. The guitar will always have its rightful place in composing and performing.
Unfortunately, the price of fine vintage instruments seems to be out of the hands of your regular players these days. But once anybody feels and hears the difference, there is no going back. It’s kind of like driving a Chevy versus a Mercedes. The Chevy will transport you well enough, and you’ll get to where you’re going, but the ride doesn’t compare to the exhilaration you get from driving a Mercedes.
Still, in the end it’s all about the music. That’s how I got into it—I loved music, and I wanted to get my hands on the best tools possible to make music. In the final analysis, it’ll always be about some young man or woman sitting down, strumming some crisp chords on an acoustic guitar, or plugging an electric guitar into a tube amp, and playing something that speaks to them and other people. I never forget that it’s about the joy of creating music.
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Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I wish all of you peace, love, and good health.