The one that got away

Since the death of Les Paul on July 13 I've been thinking that I should write a post in tribute to this musical pioneer. But I wanted to do something a little different than just simply listing his achievements and expounding what they meant to the musical world. After all, there are many places where you can go and find out about this stuff. And it is great stuff that I'd encourage everyone to read about, just not here. I've also been wanting to do a post asking everyone to comment on that one guitar they regret letting go the most. It just so happens that, in my case, these two posts can be combined.

27 years ago I walked into a tiny little music store called Ken Jones Music, in Etobicoke (considered by many that do not live there to be a suburb of Toronto) and gazed upon a most beautiful 1972 Gibson Les Paul custom. It looked pretty much exactly like this one:


The gold plating on the hardware was a bit worn, but otherwise the guitar was mint. Ken, the owner of the store, told me the guitar was $1200, and since I was a regular who sometimes sat in for his son, and resident guitar teacher, that he would extend me credit over a year with no interest. Sweeeeeeet!

Without hesitation I signed on the dotted line and then hurried home to discover what I just acquired through my very own amplifier. Needless to say, I was in awe. It was by far the best guitar I had ever played. The sound was unlike anything I ever heard me make. I don't recall exactly, but I might have missed the next 3 days of school just to hide out at home and play everything I knew over and over. I was in guitar heaven. But I was also in debt.

At the time of the Les Paul acquisition I was 16 or 17. I worked in a car wash and picked up a few bucks once in a while teaching lessons for my guitar teacher (Ken's son Brian). My usual net income every month from these activities was about $120. For the first few months after buying my Les Paul life was good. After all, I had a Les Paul! My band played a few shows and occasionally people commented on how cool my guitar was. I was totally stoked!

A few months later was a different story. The Les Paul was still the coolest thing ever, but I hadn't been able to afford to do anything fun for a half a year. I couldn't go to the movies, buy records, or any of the other things I like to do that cost money. My spending money went from $120/month to $20/month. So I did the single most stupid thing I have done in my musical life; I traded my Les Paul in for a very much less cool BC Rich Mockingbird (non-USA model). I hated that guitar. Not because it was a crappy guitar or anything (it was okay), but because it wasn't a Les Paul.

Now, 27 years later, not a day goes by where I don't think about what might have been had I not traded my Les Paul. If I had her back, I'd definitely treat her better. And I long for the day where I can afford another Les Paul. But even that one won't be the same as my first one. Nope, nothing will replace that amazing black and gold beauty. No other guitar, that is.

So here's to Les Paul the man. He invented a guitar that is much more than wood, steel, plastic and lacquer. A guitar from which all other solid-body electric guitars followed. A guitar that aspiring guitarists dream of. A guitar that still inspires great guitarist to do great things. A guitar I think about every day. A guitar that has a life of it's own. Even though the man is dead, Lester William Polsfuss will live on forever - as Les Paul. Thanks Les.