It Finally Happened!

I love getting to travel by car, van, or bus. Wheels on the road are my natural habitat. Every town I go through is a gift. Every town I get to play in is a lifetime memory, and every person who spends their time and hard-earned dough to spend an evening at my show, is a superhero! I know y’all know what I mean.

There’s something about Austin, though. Something a bit different. An entire city built around artists and weirdos is like the emerald city must have been to OZmites. A welcoming city of unlimited potential for a young musician-songwriter guy.

I first went there with Joel Rafael for South by Southwest. I’m not sure of the year but I suspect it was somewhere in the early to mid-’90s.

I’ve been lucky enough to go back there every couple years ever since. Sometimes every year. The venues and music fans there are unbelievably respectful and hang on every word. They sit quietly in gigantic bars and listen to singer-songwriters while they sip their Shiner or Lone Stars. The beer type seems to depend on the age of the consumer. The whole point of the city is to foster a safe space for musicians and artist of all types to just be. Also, great BBQ and they eat freaking tacos for breakfast!

On the way through this year to play a show at El Mercado with the wonderful Barbara Nesbitt, I had the chance to stop in at my favorite guitar shop in the world. Austin Vintage. They’ve been in several different locations and was in a new place this time. I guess haven’t been in a while.

Guitar display at Austin Vintage in Austin, Texas.

There’s a good reason for that. They have all the most incredible vintage guitars and amps that I’ve ever dreamed of having. It’s easy to get lost and accidentally spend every cent you have and every cent your family may have for the next few generations.

Now that I’m “mature” and more “frugal,” I figured I could handle a visit and walk about.

I got there right when they opened and there was only one dude working there. Kind of an older guy that I recognized, but I wasn’t sure why. That happens in music stores; the people that work at music stores tend to have a “look.” Seeing somebody working that you feel like you recognize is not rare.

Anyway, I got there when they opened, and it was just me and the one employee. I started in the front where all the used or vintage effect pedals are. There was one really cool distortion pedal that I wanted that cost $800! I did not buy that.

Then there was a very smooth merchandising transition into the electric guitar area, starting with Fender Jazzmasters, which happen to be the electric guitar I don’t have. I’ve often come close to buying one, but they are expensive and sometimes difficult to find. At least a good one from the era that I want.

There were a few, but nothing that made me reach out and play them. You know, they don’t like it when you grab each guitar down individually and spend 45 minutes with it to get to know it. You have to learn to look for certain things or to pick up a vibe when you look at an instrument. I know that sounds kind of crunchy, but the truth is that there’s a lot of energy around an instrument.

There’s all the energy that goes into building it and the human infusion that happens there. Then there are the people who have spent years playing a vintage instrument. So much sweat and heart goes into it.

Maybe you don’t believe in that kind of stuff and that’s totally okay. I don’t either sometimes. I think when we look at vintage instruments, we know that there has been years and years of work, love, and jamming that went into that instrument. Because of that, we are probably able to sort of attach that respect to the instrument whether we can feel some kind of energy coming off it or not.

So, I’m looking through this guitar shop and browsing through the electric guitars and amplifiers. I probably spent about an hour and a half checking out all the electric stuff. The amp room is like effing Disneyland! Every tube and speaker is a story in itself. I spent most of my time that morning in the amp room and came close to buying a couple different amps.

Luckily, I was mature and grown-up and had a word with myself in the parking lot before going into the store. “You’ve got plenty of freaking amps, dude; you don’t need to buy another one and where would you put it and and and…”

There were really only two guitars that I might spend money on if I found them. I mentioned one of them. A good old Fender Jazzmaster would be so cool to have! I may get one someday.

The other is an acoustic guitar, a Gibson J 45. It’s a guitar I’ve never had but have always wanted. Dylan, Lucinda, Townes, and Steve Earle… so many of my songwriting heroes have played them. I just never found one I could afford. I’ve played several pretty cool ones in my price range but none of them rang true.

I reluctantly left the amplifier room, even though there were a couple amps I wanted to double back to check out. At that point I was at the far end of the shop, and I could see two doors. One to my right and one to my left. The one to my left was the exit, the door to safety. The door to keeping money in my bank account. The door on the right went to the acoustic guitar room.

I knew going in that there would be priceless instruments that somehow managed to receive price tags anyway. I’m always very careful not to touch any guitars or imprint myself or allow them to imprint on me.

Over the years I’ve heard lots of guitar players talk about a magical guitar shop moment. A moment where an instrument called out to them with some sort of sirens’s voice, as if to say “take me home with you and we will both finally be complete!” You musicians have heard the story before, especially with stringed instruments.

Up until the moment that I chose the door to the right, I didn’t believe in those moments. Not really. I always figured it was just some excuse for why the money was spent and an answer to buyer’s remorse.

I approached the acoustic guitar room and bolstered my will. I confidently opened the door and entered knowing that I’d be leaving in just a couple minutes. That’s when I kind of blacked out.

This part of the story is where it gets a little crazy, and I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. I scanned the room. I’m not sure what happened.

I know saw beautiful Martin guitars and kept scanning to the right through the great-sounding and durable Taylor Guitars, and finally my eyes fell on the Gibson acoustic guitar row.

Up until then, all of the guitars were just a blur of beauty and dashed dreams that I could never afford. Then, it happened.

It finally happened!

All the other guitars in the room darkened and blurred. It was like that moment in Westside Story where Tony and Maria see each other for the first time, at the dance. Everything else completely goes away and all you see is them and all they see is each other. No words are spoken. They instinctively move toward each other.

What I had seen is a 1964 Gibson J 45. I think it caught my eye because the color was just a tiny bit different than some of the others. I’m not sure why, but I really don’t care. My inhibitions had completely disappeared. I found myself reaching for the guitar even though I knew it was completely unaffordable.

Most guitars we pull down off the wall aren’t in tune. This one was perfectly in tune. I played a Woody Guthrie song, then a Townes Van Zandt song, then a Bob Dylan song, and then I played a couple of my own. I felt something tickling my cheek. It was a freaking tear! I’m not even kidding.

I was like, this isn’t happening. I don’t believe in any of this crap! But there I was meeting my long-lost instrument. Like maybe I pawned it off in a past life and finally found it again.

The playability or “action” was so effortless and breezy. The intonation seemed perfect. Every cord played in tune. All the way up and down the neck it stayed in tune and rang both warm and sparkly!

The sound of the guitar was almost four-dimensional. Something extra about the box that felt like you were inside the guitar or something. I didn’t have a plectrum. The strings met my fingertips as if they knew the chords I was gonna switch to before I did. I’m not overstating that it was the best guitar I’ve ever experienced in my life.

After playing it for about 45 minutes, I remembered that it’s not mine and if I wanted it, I would have to buy it. That’s when I first looked at the price tag.

Without a case it was close to $2000 more than I had. It was like a gut punch. At the right price I could probably swing it but at this price, it would put me into financial despair for months and months. It was almost worth it, and I almost handed the guy my car keys and said thanks, I’ll take it. But, I dejectedly hung the guitar back up and quietly started to walk out of the place, feeling pretty sad.

It’s not like a real problem or anything, but it was an amazing and magical moment. I finally got to experience something from an instrument that I hadn’t before. At this age, that’s pretty rare for me.

Before I left, I went over and introduced myself to the one employee on duty. He seemed to be close to my age. I asked him about the guitar, and he quickly looked at the price tag and said well, sorry, that’s what it cost. I said okay, probably a little more than I’ve got. I said thanks for letting me play it though. I shook his hand and said my name is Jeff. He said his name was Steve and that he was the owner there. That’s when I immediately remembered where I recognized him from! He looked just like the owner of Austin Vintage Guitar except only older. Lol. (Thank you, Jimmy Buffet via Tim Flannery for that joke.)

He went on to say that he could hear me singing and playing through the wall and he loved that Townes Van Zandt song. “Colorado Girl” has always been one of my favorites.

Turns out the guitar was on consignment and that he knew the guy who was selling it. He said he’d take a look and see if the seller will budge. He actually got on the phone and called somebody. They talked for a couple minutes, and he came back to me with a price that was exactly what I had to spend. Well, close enough. Keep in mind I had never told him what I had in my bank or what I hope to be able to get the guitar for. He just came to me with that price, and I said yes with tears in my eyes! He said, “Well, you can’t leave without a case” and went and got me a case from the back for the guitar. I mean, a really nice case!

I have a real problem, though. I’ve purchased a lot of guitars in my day, and it was just rare to get that kind of kindness and service from somebody at a guitar shop. Usually, folks who work in those places are so numb from hearing “Stairway to Heaven” or whatever the latest guitar lick is that they can’t even speak to you much less keep from vomiting every 20 seconds.

I left with the guitar of my dreams and an incredible experience that has never or may never happen again. I really had that thing where the instrument called to me from across the room and I had to answer. It was meant to be.

I’ve only had the guitar for about a month, and I’ve already written a brand new record as well as used it on six different albums at the studio. It’s actually about 20 times better than I even thought it was.

Sometimes when a guitar hasn’t been played for a while, it kind of atrophies. After about a week this guitar started to open up like a flower and sing like an opera singer. The sound just bursts from it.

Anyway, it’s just a guitar and ultimately just a story of me spending money and getting a rad deal in a guitar shop. The thing is that I’ve never experienced that thing before, so I thought I’d share. Thanks for listening.

Jeff Berkley
619-957-3111
www.jeffberkley.com