Goodbyes and Hellos

It was one of those weekends where you start with your pockets still jingling from yesterdays salary, a train ticket in one hand and an old Gibson in the other. You're going back home, but at the same time you're going away to find something new. Dressed in a suit, as always when going the distance.

Left the central station around 9 am, which felt a bit early for a Saturday. But the clouds hung low the night before, and I didn't want to miss too much of the weekend sitting around waiting for trains delayed due to bad weather. When I rolled out of the city I felt alright, like nothing a good cup of coffee wouldn't fix.

It was the end of an era in which I used to believe. Ludwigs Music Shop in Eskilstuna (formerly in Kvicksund, both in Sweden) was closing and they had a sale with 40% off the top on everything. I had to go there one last time. Me and my old bandmates used to hang there a lot, sometimes just for the sake of hanging. Man the place was like a museum in the late 90s and early 00s, with accordions hangin' from the roof, a bunch of grand pianos in the basement and a whole lot of fabric (yes) on the first floor. Weird combo, but it was the kinda place to where you could bring your girlfriend or mom and they'd enjoy the fabrics as much as you'd enjoy the music equipment.

And the deals you could make, man… Once I brought in a couple of old pedals and stomp boxes that sounded like shit - traded them (+ 50 bucks) for an electric piano and went back home. A month or so later I brought back the piano and changed it for a guitar, which I later switched for an amplifier and half a drum kit. A year or so later I brought back the drums and once again came out with the electric piano I initially had brought home. And the guys didn't even remember the deals between. Epic.

Nowadays the place looks like any other shop, with their own line of imported shit guitars and violins, a couple of used cellos and no paint coming off the wall. Long gone are the sweet deals, the smell of laquer and the sound of gypsy accordion. But the girls are still happy with the fabric I must add. So I leave, having bought nothing else but a tuning lever for my electric Yamaha grand piano.

Still with my Gibson in hand I hitch a ride with a friend back to my folks house, which is emptier than a hobos bottle when morning comes. They're away on holidays so me and a couple of old friends have decided to meet there and drink for the old times. We do as intended and end up in the basement, me on the piano hammering Jerry Lee and Sonny on the snare drum doing rythms he didn't even knew existed before that night.

Morning comes and we say our goodbyes. Time for my last and most important stop on this journey through time and space. I'm gonna trade my 1969 Gibson acoustic for a 1959 Gretsch electric. It's both sad and joyful, and if I hadn't been so hung-over I probably would have thought about all the times I've had with that guitar while my brother drove me to that distant rural town. Upon arrival I'm greeted by two cats on the floor and a third cat with a hairdo that is similar to mine. I stay for an hour or so, talking about the specifics on my guitar and asking about the specifics on his. I end up leaving with not only the Gretsch, but also an old tape echo in bad need of some love and tender care. Hopefully I can provide that myself.

The guitar on the other hand - my "new" Gretsch, I ain't gonna take care of her myself. She needs new frets, a neck-reset and some other stuff that only a good luthier can provide. But that's what next months salary is for, right?

This is the guy I traded with. Or it's his band at least. I guess he will be happy when I strut my shit on youtube as well and he finds out that the guitar went to another cat with a love of old stinkin' 1-4-5.