Going Down — Or, at least back to April 14th, 2012, when “The Reverend” Billy F. Gibbons, Joe Bonamassa, Derek Trucks, and Dusty Hill honored the third King of the Blues — Freddie King’s, induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Freddie, of no relation to Albert, or BB, passed away at the young age of 42— sixteen months before “The King” Elvis Presley died. Not, however, before leaving (like the other 2 Kings of the Blues, Albert, and BB) larger than life legacy and influence in the lives and creativity of countless musical greats as Eric Clapton, Duane Allman, Jeff Beck, and Robby Krieger of the Doors.
Right here — Right now — we have the honor of witnessing Billy Gibbons, and Dusty Hill of ZZ Top, Joe Bonamassa,( Child Prodigy born three months before Elvis died, opening shows for BB King at age 12) and Derek Trucks ( most recent slide guitar replacement for Duane Allman and Dicky Betts of the Allman Brothers Band, and guitarist for “Tedeschi Trucks” along- side wife Susan Tedeschi) giving homage to one of Ye Three Kings (of the blues) — Freddie King.
For Your Listening Pleasure and Without Further Ado —
What do ya do with that? I mean it’s a “Paisley Telecaster” but, not exactly something “James Burton” would play. I’m not even sure “James Taylor” or “Rick James” would play…Maybe “Prince?”
Anyway, I know it’s a girly guitar, and the flowers are — well, pretty. But I just can’t see me playing it the way it looks, so, I guess it’s in for a face lift… Hmmm. What to do? What to do?.. It is still a Telecaster, after all…I wonder what the stage lights might do as far as improvements?
Yeah that’s a little improvement. By the way, can you guys believe Russell Wilson threw that last pass instead of giving the ball to Marshawn Lynch? Maybe a little blue light…
Yeah — that’s no help. Oh wait.. I see it now.. I know what it needs… and I wont have to strip it down to find it has an ugly wood grain underneath…
Man… what a way to blow a ball game…’COME ON MAN’!
So, I suppose I need to make a trip to “Hobby Lobby” for this project… I have an idea to save the guitar. I don’t think I’ll go with any of Pete Caroll’s plays on this project. Nor will I bother to paint, or strip the guitar down… I think I have an idea… I should have it finished and posted before too long, later this week. Until then… “Dolt! Ummm Flowers.”
This is it:
Not the best pictures in the world, but, at least I did take a few.
The morning sun shone through the rift of the blinds one morning, and my semi-conscious mind must have processed the red-eyelid-grid it saw as the fret-board of a cosmic stringed instrument. I began hearing the most beautiful music I have ever heard, as my mind’s eye watched each glistening sun-ray pluck the strings. I remember being astonished by its dexterity, and melodic perfection. Upon awakening, I tried to duplicate the notes I had heard, and saw, on my guitar—If only I could remember them note for note.— From what little I was able to remember, and attempt to simulate on the fret-board, the notes seemed impossible to play in one key. Almost as if each note came from one of the 24 individual keys of the musical spectrum. It totally seemed to of been an impossible dream— But, what if all dreams came true? I thought, and then it was gone…
I was standing on a sea-shore, in some far away place beyond the familiar sea, where nothing looked real, or resonated with me. There were neon colors, and bird-like creatures. Lifelike, but surreal. I perceived them with all 5 senses at once. I felt, tasted, heard, smelled, and saw them — from one sense of awareness — at once. I wanted to talk to them, so I tried to open my mouth, instead my eyes opened. And I awakened. It was over… What if all dreams came true?
I heard the phone ring as I was walking in through a large glass door leading to a hallway between two rows of desks occupied by dogs with huge human like grins, when suddenly one of them leaped out at me and said… “You Won The Lottery” — But, then, of course, I woke up.
I dreamed I was in a terrible hurricane, worse than any of the ones I’ve experienced first hand on the Carolina coast. It was terrifying. Water started moving in beneath my feet, and gradually rose to the level of my chin. Suddenly, a tidal wave came crashing over me, the town, and everyone, and everything, as far as I could see. And, then I woke up — But, what if every dream really did come true? Or. What if some really are warnings? What if we knew that every dream would come true? What If every dream did come true?
Grinning Dog ?
I know it’s a gamble stripping down a guitar with the sole intent of staining, and not painting… As we all know, when the chips are down on the assembly line; “Ugly Guitars Get Paint”. But, I figured if it was too ugly Well, there’s always … more paint. Obviously, like my workshop, this flea market find ( though an awesome playing little guitar ) definitely needs all the help it can get in the looks department.
In my humble opinion, there are WAY too many black guitars out there, at least, in the Stratocaster style. Although, I wouldn’t likely change the color of a nice vintage Strat, or, Tele, regardless of the color. There are certainly a few Tele Custom and Deluxe models I’ve played out there that still look good in black. But, when it came to the Fergie, nothing has ever been cut and dried black and white.
She’s been with me some time, and plays as good as she sounds… just didn’t have the same sex appeal to me in the looks department, so, I visited the old strip club…
She was a tough one to break, though. I had to use all three trusted methods (Chemical Solvent, Heat Gun, & Sand Paper) to cut through all the poly plastic, and paint before it was over.. and it’s actually not over yet, as I still have to dress her in a clear coat. And rewire, and mount the hardware, pickups and chrome of course.
I’m not settled on the pick guard yet either, but, had one I’d tried to paint up a while back; or actually tried to copper relic, ( which I learned doesn’t work so well on flat objects) But, who knows…
I’ll be replacing the POT knobs with a more antiqued, or, bronzed looking ones most likely, and I need to make some type of input jack grommet, But other than that … she’s about done.
As some of you who’ve seen my posts know, I am a sucker for the Fender Telecaster Guitar. Any Telecaster, for that matter, as some of my purchases, and photos reveal.
Thus, as I was rummaging a flea market recently, captivated by a little Tele, apparently abandoned by a child who was advancing either to the real thing, ( as this one is a toy) or, anticipating Santa filling their stockings with a whole new batch of toys for Christmas, I thought, either-way, even if it’s just a toy it is a Telecaster.
“Let’s look over here at the paintings,” my wife said. Okay. I responded, her words reverberating, never quite striking a note of recognition in my preoccupied mind.
Something about this little guitar… I couldn’t put my finger on it, ─ as the look in my wife’s eyes said, “It’s Just a Toy!”
Oh … the monsterish look… the seething teeth snarling at me like Lizzie Borden with her axe, saying; ”Get over here before I tear your ears off and ─ “
No, not my wife silly, the Telecaster! Okay, okay, the toy telecaster. It’s still a Telecaster!
Something so familiar, seemingly calling my name had me under its spell, causing me to drift into a dream world. Then I remembered rescuing a guy who said there was a “Monster” hiding in his closet a few years ago. I fearlessly went in after that hideous creature, with its samurai sharp, skull crushing claws, and slithery, serpentine, scaled muscular body, grabbed it around the neck, reared my head back in the classic “Mel Gibson head-butting” position and ─ kissed it like a baby!!!
Almost kissed the guy who sold it to me too, but, I didn’t want him to raise the price for the guitar…
You may remember the one featured here: Obey Propaganda Telecaster .
And, of course, as I stated in the post, the “Obey Propaganda Fender Squire Telecaster ” wasn’t my first choice of paint and graphics, but, just like this little toy ─ it is, after-all a Telecaster.
Suddenly, I awakened from my trance, snatched back to reality, when my wife called out; ” Oh, look at this one.”
I turned, barely making out her shapely form meandering through a double row of lanterns, lamps, and shades, when… the light came on in my head…
I turned again to my little Telecaster (toy) friend, beaming a whole new tune, knowing exactly how to fit him into the shopping cart, and get him back to my little work shop; with my wife’s harmonious approval, and ─ well, the rest is ‘Telecaster History”