It’s Friday and all I can think about is Sunday. Ordinarily, I should be thinking about Friday night and Saturday.

But Sunday is rehearsal day, and I’m bringing something new to rehearsal.

My Dad bought a guitar he never plays, so he’s letting me use it provided I swap it with the guitar I’ve been using for the past 5 years.

I’ve been playing one of these:

I have loved the Telecaster to death.  I named it Pandora when I first got it because I snagged it right before my college band was actually getting a lot of attention thanks to the legwork of our lead singer’s work in the local music biz.  He pounded the pavement and got us at least 3 shows a month.  He booked us a tour.  He was a generally good leader.  (He’s in this fucking magnificent band now).

And just like any musician who believes their musical instruments possess a kind of “soul”, this guitar definitely influenced my playing style.  I won’t try to describe it because even though I’m a blogger, that’s a little too self-indulgent.  Not like I think I’m hot shit, it’s just that every musician can kind of describe what they’re doing pretty easily.

BUT NOW I’ve swapped it with the guitar my Dad barely touched.  It’s one of these:

Yes, that is a Gibson SG ’61 re-issue. And yes, it will get a name, but it needs to see the stage before that happens.

And yes, I am ready to bring the fucking rock, motherfuckers.

Though I usually don’t end posts this way because well wishes are Angelaboration‘s gig, I really feel like I should wish this really, really good feeling upon anyone reading this:

May you wake the fucking dead by rocking the goddam daylight out of whatever you can burn in your blast radius.

Report back to me after the weekend.

\m/