At a public auction, a Stradivarius violin sold for $3,544,000. I don’t play violin, but supposedly the sound of a Stradivarius would be like Jesus giving you a back massage. He does have awfully big hands. On the more proletarian front, a 1959 Gibson Les Paul can go for $400,000. You could trade one Stradivarius for seven Les Pauls. But still almost half a million dollars is a bit high for the average musician. The sound of a Les Paul is a nice fat tone made very popular by Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin and Tom Scholz of Boston. In fact, Scholz’s distinct tone is how I think of Les Pauls. They are forever trapped as the guitar solo in “More Than a Feeling.” God rest Bradley Delp.
Not only did these guy perfect a sound that sold the Les Pauls, as Hendrix sold the Fender Stratocaster, but they also guaranteed the exorbitant price. Being that most musicians are poor or at least under paid, few of them can afford a vintage guitar. The rich rock star is one percent of all musicians, probably less, with today’s splintered music market. So who is buying these guitars at Christies’ auctions? Obviously, people who can afford a guitar for half a million and still make rent—people who made money in tech or stocks or inheritance and grew up idolizing guitar heroes.
The guitar has value other than its inherent sound; it has history attached to it. Much in the same way a first edition book or a rare stamp has perceived value. Of course, value has its ugly side. When Jerry Garcia died, he left his custom-made guitars to his luthier, Doug Irwin. Irwin hurt himself in a car accident and, to raise money, wanted to auction off the guitars. The Grateful Dead organization, ever-protective over Dead merchandise (and ever-exploitive, have you seen Grateful Red, the non-alcoholic wine endorsed by the Dead, shesh!) threatened legal action saying the guitar was the band’s property and not Garcia’s to give away.
The band wanted to put the guitar in a planned GD museum and didn’t want it hanging in some rich deadhead’s wall. Either way the guitar would have just been hanging on the wall. The Dead settled with Irwin and he sold two of his guitars for 1.74 million dollars. Don’t cry for the Dead, though. They never built a museum, but they did sell some of his other guitars just last week, making $1.1 million for three guitars and other memorabilia. Not bad for some old acid heads, huh? I think the Dead might even have some other revenue streams too. Now, these guitars are too expensive to play. Now they sit protected and quiet.
If Pete Townsend and punk taught us anything, it is fuck it; break the fucking thing; it’s just a tool, easily replaceable. Not true, but at its heart, its very true. What matters is not the historical value, but the talent of the pickers and players. I’d rather sit around a campfire and hear a drunken fool play “Wild Thing” than marvel at a Stradivarius behind a bullet-proof plastic wall.
Not only did these guy perfect a sound that sold the Les Pauls, as Hendrix sold the Fender Stratocaster, but they also guaranteed the exorbitant price. Being that most musicians are poor or at least under paid, few of them can afford a vintage guitar. The rich rock star is one percent of all musicians, probably less, with today’s splintered music market. So who is buying these guitars at Christies’ auctions? Obviously, people who can afford a guitar for half a million and still make rent—people who made money in tech or stocks or inheritance and grew up idolizing guitar heroes.
The guitar has value other than its inherent sound; it has history attached to it. Much in the same way a first edition book or a rare stamp has perceived value. Of course, value has its ugly side. When Jerry Garcia died, he left his custom-made guitars to his luthier, Doug Irwin. Irwin hurt himself in a car accident and, to raise money, wanted to auction off the guitars. The Grateful Dead organization, ever-protective over Dead merchandise (and ever-exploitive, have you seen Grateful Red, the non-alcoholic wine endorsed by the Dead, shesh!) threatened legal action saying the guitar was the band’s property and not Garcia’s to give away.
The band wanted to put the guitar in a planned GD museum and didn’t want it hanging in some rich deadhead’s wall. Either way the guitar would have just been hanging on the wall. The Dead settled with Irwin and he sold two of his guitars for 1.74 million dollars. Don’t cry for the Dead, though. They never built a museum, but they did sell some of his other guitars just last week, making $1.1 million for three guitars and other memorabilia. Not bad for some old acid heads, huh? I think the Dead might even have some other revenue streams too. Now, these guitars are too expensive to play. Now they sit protected and quiet.
If Pete Townsend and punk taught us anything, it is fuck it; break the fucking thing; it’s just a tool, easily replaceable. Not true, but at its heart, its very true. What matters is not the historical value, but the talent of the pickers and players. I’d rather sit around a campfire and hear a drunken fool play “Wild Thing” than marvel at a Stradivarius behind a bullet-proof plastic wall.
1 comment:
Insert Appropriate Spinal Tap reference:
I don't play this guitar, it musn't be played. No! don't even look at it.
And Pink Floyd reference:
All all of these your guitars?
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