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Her real name is Martina, but she’s had a lot of “work done” as they say.  😃

I was looking for a rock n roll guitar back in the mid 80s.  I already had a hollow body Gretsch with a neck pick up, but my hormone levels cried for something more.

I stopped by the Guitar Shop in DC almost every week to lust after all the guitars sitting in the racks along the wall.  Of course I wanted a Fender Stratocaster or a Gibson Les Paul, but they were out of reach of my just-out-of-college-liberal-arts-degree budget.

Steve, the owner of the Guitar Shop, saw a sale waiting to happen, and pointed out a turquoise SSX Stinger that had recently come in,  It had a whammy bar and a black single coil pickups, a black pickguard and black hardware–very 80s looking, another one of the millions of Strat copies that had begun to flood the market around that time. (Think Charvel, Ibanez, J.B. Player, etc.)   A couple of selling points that Steve emphasized were 1) that SSX was an off-brand of Martin. 2) The body was a bit more streamlined than a genuine Strat. 

It also had a rosewood neck (I don’t like maple.) 

And it was $175.

I took it back to my apartment on Capitol Hill, and yes, it rocked more than the Gretsch, but having settled for a compromise, I immediately began to think about ways to pimp it up.  So I bought a Seymour Duncan Hot Rails pickup.  I don’t remember whether I bought it at my beloved Guitar Shop, but I’m pretty sure they installed it, replacing the neck pick up.  I remember the repairman admiring her “sea foam green” color.  I now had the option of a single coil, parallel humbucker, and series humbucker in the neck position.  Plus, since it was a Strat copy I had those options out of phase with the middle pick up.  Frankly, I don’t remember taking much advantage of all these choices.  I think I just kept it on one of the humbucker settings.  I never ventured far from the neck pick up back in those days.

Early on, maybe even before installing the hot rails, I immobilized the tremolo system.  Bigsby style tremolos are the only ones worth having.  All the others constantly go out of tune, or, like the Floyd Rose system, they’re very inconvenient.

I was never really happy with Martina’s neck either.  It was a little bit bent.  The action was a little too high up near the octave.  So I went to Venneman’s Music in Springfield, VA and bought a Warmoth neck. 

The Stratocaster design is genius.  It’s a very playable, versatile guitar.  You don’t need a volume pedal because the volume knob is right there within reach of your pinky while you play.  You have 5 pickup settings. That’s a lot of sounds without ever touching the tone knobs.   And it has a bolt-on neck, so even with no luthierial experience, I could replace the neck.  While I was at it I installed black Schaller tuning heads. 

So now I had a pretty good Strat copy, which had eventually cost almost as much as a real one.  I began to discover Martina’s middle and bridge pickups, and at some point, probably in mid to late 90s, I felt brave enough to test my soldering skills and moved the Hot Rails to the bridge position, which is by far the most common placement.

Martina served me well with few problems, but at some point around 2010, she needed some sort of servicing.  I took her to a music store on The Avenues in Richmond.  I don’t remember the name, but I do remember Charlie, the repairman.  Charlie is one of those music scene stalwarts who pops up everywhere.  I’d seen him volunteering at the Folk Festival.  I saw him working at the merch desk at a Tom Paxton concert at Tin Pan.  Funny guy.  Nice guy too, he once burned me a copy of a Beatles CD.

Charlie was filling out the repair ticket and asked me what brand the guitar was.  I started into Martina’s life story,. He stopped me and said, “Frankenstein” since she had now been refashioned with so many new body parts.  I laughed.  Martina has never really expressed an opinion on her new nickname.  

Living in Richmond, I periodically daydreamed about replacing the pickups with ones made by local legend, Lindy Fralin.  Even now, from the other side of the Atlantic, I cogitate on it from time to time.

As my musical tastes evolved more toward rockabilly and country, I played Martina less often.  But she came with me and the rest of my guitar family  to the Netherlands in 2018.

Her black pickguard had long bothered me.  Too 80’s–not my favorite musical period.  So I took her to an awesome guitar shop in The Hague: Guitar Chop Shop.  They switched out the black pickguard for red pearl, giving her more of a 60’s look, a musical period that I appreciate.

Recently I’ve been playing more lead guitar with the Niemand Minder Sessie Band.  We practice at the Muziek Fabriek in Vlaardingen: great practice space, awesome people.  There I play through a Hughes and Kettner amp.  It really emphasizes high end sounds and of all my guitars, Martina sounds best through it. 

And so, my old flame, Martina von Frankenstein, and I continue to make beautiful music together!

I was vaguely aware of  Fender Deluxe Reverb amplifiers when I was in college.  I had a friend who upgraded amps every year (lucky guy–spoiled guy?).  The Deluxe was one of his transitional amps on the way to a Twin Reverb.

Then, out of school, and in my first band, Plate of Shrimp/The Stallones, I fell in love.

Dana, who also played guitar in the band, started out playing through a Roland amp, I think.  (Rolands were popular back in the mid/late 80s.)  Then one day he bought a used silver face Deluxe Reverb.  Or should I say a Deluxe REVERB!!!  My Twin had classic spring reverb coils and got an excellent sound.  But when Dana turned the Reverb on his Deluxe up to 10 it sounded as though he was playing in the Grand Canyon!

I was immediately envious and covetous.

The Stallones began an extended hiatus in the early 90s.   I never forgot the Deluxe.  

But I had a perfectly awesome Twin.  It more than satisfied my needs.  I wasn’t gigging very much, so portability wasn’t an issue.

And the decades rolled by.

Life took some big turns, and in 2017 I began preparing for a new life in the Netherlands.  I had to unload a whole lot of stuff, especially heavy stuff: automobile, furniture, books, and. . .what about my Twin?

A conversation went on in my head for several months.  What should I do about the Twin?  It’s big and our apartment in Rotterdam isn’t.  It’s heavy, and I’ll have to take it up and down stairs.  It’s American and runs on 110 volts.  I’ll need to get a transformer to use it on Dutch current.  It’s a tube amp and is a bit delicate.  Will it survive the trip?  I’ll need to buy a case for it; that’ll run me some money.

Or I could sell it and buy a Deluxe!!!  I might be able to get $1000 for the Twin and invest it in a much more portable Deluxe.  Or I could wait till I get to Holland and buy an amp there.

Hmmm.

Being a bit of a hoarder, I couldn’t give up the Twin.  Too many happy memories: buying it, gigs, hours and hours recording in the basement or in my upstairs studio.

Then one sunny day I was on one of my many trips to Goodwill to donate yet more clothes, knick knacks, furniture, books, you name it.  I was loading boxes on the back of the truck when I happened to look down to the left and right there on the pavement sat a DELUXE REVERB!!!

Joy, enthusiasm, PANIC!!!  What do I do?  How can I buy it?  How much does it cost?  I HAVE TO HAVE IT!!!

I, a bit too urgently, asked the guy on the truck whether I could buy it.  He said that it had to have a price tag on it before I could buy it.  It didn’t have one; it had just been donated. 

How can we get a price tag on it?

I’ll have to speak with the manager.

Can I go talk to the manager?

I’ll go, he said.

As I waited to hear from the manager, my thoughts raced: how much am I willing to pay?  I’d noticed that there was a sign attached to the Deluxe saying it was broken, but it listed what exactly was wrong with it.  I know a good repairman, and he can probably fix it.  But how much will the manager say the amp is worth?  A new Deluxe is going for $1,200.00 these days.  Maybe I’m willing to pay as much as $200.  Repairs will probably run me another $200-$300.  In one way, that’s a deal: basically half price.  On the other hand, I already have an excellent Twin; I don’t really need another amp.

The manager came out with a price tag.

$12.50

$12.50!!!! 

I was overjoyed!  I quickly ran to the cashier.  As is the custom at Goodwill, she asked me if I wanted to round the price up to $13.00.  

$13.00!?!? 

Here, take $15.00.

Long story short, I drove off in my Chrysler Sebring, top down, my heart singing (probably actually singing too).  I took it to my guy in Petersburg, Prism Concepts, and he fixed it for something like $300. 

So I finally got my Deluxe Reverb in 2017 for a small fraction of what it would usually cost.  It’s probably a late 70s model.  It doesn’t have the epic Grand Canyon-like reverb that Dana’s did.  It doesn’t have rolling volumes, and doesn’t have the wattage of a Twin, which is good. Even at relatively low volumes the vacuum tubes get a warm tone just at the verge of overdriving, soft around the edges, slurring a little, kinda like the way Dean Martin sings.

Buz King made me a case, and I brought the Deluxe with me to Rotterdam.

I love it.

In early 1985, six months after graduating from college I moved to the Washington, DC Area. It didn't take me long to discover The Guitar Shop just south of Dupont Circle. Every week or so I'd climb the long narrow stair case that led to a magical hodgepodge of all things guitar. It was there that I spotted my Twin Reverb. I was a starry-eyed newbie to the world of rock and roll and had heard that the Fender Twin Reverb was the standard amplifier for my style of punk/roots/garage rock. I was smitten. The shop owner, Steve Spellman(?) gave a sales pitch about it having been customized. He didn't  need to; I was sold the moment I saw it. I think it cost $350, a big sum for me at the time since I was working temporary jobs. Besides all the guitars hanging in racks on the walls there were amps piled up all around, including an old purple padded Kustom (too hippie-esque), a Super Reverb (not enough wattage for thinking back then) and a Pro Reverb in the shop. The Pro was probably more suited to my needs (lighter, not quite so many watts), but my heart was set on the 100-watt Twin. Steve delivered the Twin to my apartment on Capitol Hill, bringing it in his old Checker cab. The festivities had begun. 

Twins are big and heavy and loud! I've never played mine at a volume above 6. (That was at an outdoor concert at Ft. Reno Park with the Stallones sometime around 1990.) The Twin has served me well over the years. I've lugged it to many a gig. It has also spent long periods sitting in my several studios.  

It's been to several repairmen. Through them I've learned a bit more about its provenance. "Customized" was probably a bit of a euphemism. "Tinkered with" maybe describes the modifications a bit better. One repairman expressed surprise that many of the electrical connections were "dry", i.e. not soldered. Just before moving to the Netherlands, I was blessed to come in contact with a local guitar amp repair legend in Petersburg, VA. He had repaired amps for something like 50 years. My amps were possibly the last ones he ever repaired since he was about to retire for health reasons. He pointed out the Twin had bass amp speakers and kindly switched them out for genuine Fender guitar amp speakers. I asked him the "big question": Was my Twin pre or post CBS? His answer was interesting: probably a mixture of both--built during the transition period. The Fender logo on the front has a tail on the "r", indicating a 60s vintage. But he thought my amp came from the early 70s when he said that there was a lot of carry over as company was transitioning. A lot of the old parts were still in stock and being used in the early CBS era.

The Twin crossed the Atlantic with me when I moved here to Rotterdam back in 2018.  It's heavier than ever since it must be accompanied by a transformer in order to function on 220 volts.  It has gigged here.  It has resided in practice studios.  It's been repaired yet again, having traveled the 12 km to Delft in a bakfiets (cargo bike).  It's performing better than ever and currently sits in my micro studio at home, enjoying a new life as I jam on my looper.

I should have bought a smaller amp.  I should have traded it in and upgraded to a smaller, sturdier, lighter modeling amp.   I should have sold it in the States and bought a 220-volt compatible amp here.

But I didn't.

I'm still loving my Good Twin!

The Replacements were a big influence on me in the '80s and 90's.  I recently pulled out Hootenanny, the first Replacements record I ever bought.  Maybe it's imprinting, but for me it's the album that best represents the spirit of the band at it's carefree, sloppy, reckless best.  With hyper energy, they remain a half step short of complete chaos--Bob's screeching guitar leading the way.  They pull off songs with texts consisting entirely of phrases such as:  "Red light, red light, run it!"  or "It's a Hootenanny!"  or "Buck Hill".   Or they read the personals to a musical setting as in "Lovelines".  Having already mastered non songwriting, Paul is just starting to develop songwriting craft: "Color Me Impressed" and "Within Your Reach."  He even has a sneaky one: "Treatment Bound", which sounds as though it was first sung in a hobo camp under a bridge somewhere in the Twin Cities.  

I like the albums that came before Hootenanny: Sorry, Ma. . . and Stink, but their amateurishness is not yet fully actualized on those discs.

Let it Be, which most people consider to be their masterpiece, is a little too "slick" and "serious"(those words are used extremely loosely here) for me.  Compare "Black Diamond", a serious Kiss cover on Let it Be, to "Mr. Whirly", a consciously, joyously inept Beatles medley on Hootenany.  And I never did understand why Paul was so upset about that answering machine (from a time when answering machines were still new.)  Wouldn't he prefer leaving a message to nothing at all?

The raucous festivities begin to decline after Let it Be.  The demands of the music biz, over production, competence (of a sort), and a melancholic, bitter hangover from the alcoholism that was once fêted all took their toll.  That doesn't mean that the later albums aren't worthwhile.  There is lots of good music to be had.  Is "Here Comes a Regular" from Tim the saddest song ever?  All Shook Down is a special favorite.  Paul's songwriting skills are in their full glory by this time. 

But it's not the glorious celebration of irresponsibility that is Hootenanny.

I started these micro blogs as a way to get back to journaling, something I stopped doing years ago.  As I recently listened to a cassette of decades-old songs, I realized that, in a way,  my songs  have served as a form of journaling.  Like with any journal, looking back can be enjoyable.  It can be embarrassing.  Many times the thoughts or feelings expressed no longer apply.  It's fun, though,  to think back on the situations that inspired a certain song: the person, the conversation , or the event.  Where was I when I wrote it: at home, on vacation, at lunch at work, in my studio?  Sometimes I can remember myself coming up with the riff, or the specific moment that a phrase became musical, or I remember myself singing and working out lyrics as I walked along a path or city street.  Sometimes my memories are more general: where I was living or my general state of mind at the time I wrote the song.  Sometimes I don't remember anything about the song--even that I wrote it.  I have to try to piece together the origin based on other songs written around the same time.  That happened the other day.  I usually forget songs for good reason. This time, though, I wondered why this one had vanished from my memory.  You might be hearing more from "Monday Morning", written in Annandale, VA sometime in the early 1990s.

Today I'm not going to think about Donald Trump...

Dang!

I heard a Tuvan (Kargyraa) throat singer years ago at the Richmond Folk Festival.  I was fascinated with the strange (to my Western ears) multitonal sound.  (Yes, Tuvan throat singers can sing more than one note at once.)  Without any clue on how to go about it, I spent the next couple of weeks walking around the house trying to duplicate the grumbling, buzzing, droning sound.  My wife was relieved when I lost interest.

Flash forward about 20 years.  I'm always looking for fun ways to develop my voice.  A week or so ago, I remembered throat singing.  And since there are multitudinous tutorials on YouTube nowadays, I'm having a blast.  My friends are too--it's a great team-building activity.  Also fun for the family. You might want to give it a try.  This video will get you well under way to learning a new hobby or party trick  in just one minute: https://youtu.be/Vz5Lrwngzwc

I find life is so much easier if I just let good things happen.

Did you know that the webbuilder I use allows me to use AI to write my blogs?!  (It all started with bowling.  Used to be you scored your own games; then it automatically  scored the games for you. There must be a bowling alley out there now where AI bowls for you!)  Anyways, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned this: will you ever trust my blogs again?

Some people talk about music and songwriting as a business.  I prefer to see them as a joy.

It's a gorgeous sunny day in Rotterdam, NL and there's some super cute news out of Tasmania! 

https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2026/mar/19/possum-hobart-airport-gift-shop-soft-toys

Headed to the studio tonight.  Boldly going where I've never gone before musically.  First time for a song with violin.  And even more surprising working on a dance number, complete with groove, shout-along chorus and rave up!  What would the teenager who found inspiration in Sid Vicious, Johnny Thunders, The Clash, The Sex Pistols and The Ramones have to say about that?!

I saw the new Elvis interview/concert film, Epic, yesterday.  Several takeaways: 

1) That Elvis, he sure could sing!  I guess I hadn't heard his voice over such a good sound system before.  Wow!

2) Elvis loved to perform and valued his audience. 

3) Most importantly:  He and his band were MAKING music onstage, not just performing.  And it was a joyous process!  I was really struck by how the band and background singers constantly looked at him with smiles on their faces, paying attention to his every move and adjusting as inspiration struck him or them.  Elvis even talks about this in the film.  It keeps the repeated performing from getting boring.

So why am I struck by this?   Because I think that's what performing is all about.  And I think that it's a nuance that is lost on many budding musicians and seasoned performers alike.  Anybody who has had piano lessons knows how difficult and frustrating it feels as you work to perfectly reproduce the notes on the page.  You feel defeated when you can't play the song "perfectly."  Traditional piano teachers reinforce this depressing feeling.  Many a budding pianist has quit over this.  I've known several wonderful pianists who more or less stopped playing.  I attribute this to the painful memories they had of studying under a strict, old-school teacher.

But there's more:  modern popular music performers are often just lip syncing (sinking?) to pre-recorded tracks.  Also a band often plays their instruments, but are backed up with pre-recorded music.  I know of one band that had to cancel a show because they'd lost their laptop!  I guess audiences have no problem arrangement.  There doesn't seem to be any shortage of people willing to pay exorbitant prices to do watch well-known acts do this sort of thing.

But that wasn't what Elvis & co. were doing.  They were interacting with each other.   The whole band adjusted when Elvis did something unexpected, repeated or changed a line.  He sometimes teased the background singers mid song causing them to laugh audibly.  He introduced songs with the caveat that it was the first time they had ever performed it.  (I can't ever remember seeing a big act do that.)  And several songs clearly ended in an unexpected way.  You could hear and see the band compensating and making it work.  It sounded just fine.

Why am I so impressed by this approach?  BECAUSE IT'S FUN!  It's fun for everyone, not just the musicians. You could see in the film too that the audiences were smiling, laughing, screaming, jumping up and down, and even kissing Elvis.  (Elvis kissed a lot of girls during each show!)

I know too many musicians who get hung up on this idea that performances have to be "perfect."  They feel insecure. They have a hard time accepting compliments because they didn't perform a song exactly as they had practiced it.  

My feelings about performing improved dramatically when I let go of the "note-perfect" expectations I'd had of myself.  

To be truthful, one of my favorite performing moments is when our band screws up and then we smoothly get back on track.  That's making music.  On the spot.

Live performance isn't about perfect notes.  It's about a perfect feeling.

I met the head of the Stardumb record label yesterday.  They specialize in punk and power pop.  Good stuff!  Check out some of their music here: https://www.youtube.com/@StardumbRecords

And, of course, you'll want to learn more about the Godzilla tote bag here https://www.stardumbrecords.com/products/stardumb-records-godzilla-totebag