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Thunderbird Club

Not sure if I've told this story. Several of us used to rent a shotgun house together. The neighbors' houses were six feet away on either side- old homes, no A/C and no insulation to speak of. A drummer next door (who had no other job) set up his practice room on the side of his house closest to our bedrooms (all rooms involved were upstairs), and would practice every day at the same time in the middle of the day. Both houses of necessity had windows open in the Georgia summer. One of my housemates (Dave) worked nights, and had asked the drummer several times to practice earlier or later, or move to the other side of his house since the next house over was empty during the day. We offered to help move his kit. The drummer refused because he simply didn't want to. (It was loud enough that it made conversation difficult even downstairs in our living room.) Everyone else in both houses would try to accommodate each other on issues to make life more bearable.
OK, bro, you don't *have* to work with us.
One day as the time approached, Dave and I set my 130W guitar amp up in the window closest to the drum room window. I ran my guitar (with hot pickups in series for maximum signal) through my Big Muff Pi with every control cranked on axe, fuzz, and amp. I basically practiced scales and power chords as hard as I could for a half hour, then just beat the snot out of the same chord for a half hour. Dave hung out in the kitchen, drinking iced tea and reading.
When I finally stopped, I took off the unplugged headphones (I like my hearing), and after a few seconds realized the pounding I heard was the front door, not a bass drum. The drummer was at the door, livid. I opened the door, he started to yell, and I screamed "SHUT UP!" I never acted like that so he did. "Look," I said, "you practice when you want, as loud as you want, so I will, too. If you want to move to a room on the other side of the house, or just move your time as Dave asked, I'll happily move mine, too. Thanks." He left, grumbling, but moved his drums to the spare room on the other side of his house.
Well played, thanks for sharing, and the edification.
 
I know it's not a 'Bird, or a Gibson, but my beloved Precision was stolen out of my car in front of my house today. Been spamming everywhere I can think of, filed reports, contacted pawn shops and music stores. I can only hope it finds its way back one day. I must give a shout out to Guitar Center, who were able to comb thier system to find the original record of purchase all the way back in '07 and get me the serial number, and flag it nationwide in their stores as stolen.

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California, right?
 
A few people asked, so I'll post it here in case anyone wants to share and spread the word. It's a Fender American Vintage Reissue '62 with a gold pickguard, very distinct wear, and a heart shaped knot on the back. Serial #V163994. I can be reached at 360-317-6588 if anyone ever gets a lead on it. Thanks everyone!
 
A few people asked, so I'll post it here in case anyone wants to share and spread the word. It's a Fender American Vintage Reissue '62 with a gold pickguard, very distinct wear, and a heart shaped knot on the back. Serial #V163994. I can be reached at 360-317-6588 if anyone ever gets a lead on it. Thanks everyone!


You'll have another set of eyes here on the East.
 
It's amazing how people can be that "tone deaf" to their own behavior until they are victimized by that behavior themselves. Well played, sir, well played.

It was loud enough that we could have called the cops. That's always a last resort, when it's even a resort.
 
Maybe because musicians are inherently rebellious.

I was going to say, "Well, the rockers are", but then I recalled some of my very non rock-rock-and-roll friends in HS stage band, whose goal was to play in a symphony, and who were at the top of the heap for rebel scum.[1]

[1] Star Wars reference, not judgement. These were good friends!
 
Not sure if I've told this story. Several of us used to rent a shotgun house together. The neighbors' houses were six feet away on either side- old homes, no A/C and no insulation to speak of. A drummer next door (who had no other job) set up his practice room on the side of his house closest to our bedrooms (all rooms involved were upstairs), and would practice every day at the same time in the middle of the day. Both houses of necessity had windows open in the Georgia summer. One of my housemates (Dave) worked nights, and had asked the drummer several times to practice earlier or later, or move to the other side of his house since the next house over was empty during the day. We offered to help move his kit. The drummer refused because he simply didn't want to. (It was loud enough that it made conversation difficult even downstairs in our living room.) Everyone else in both houses would try to accommodate each other on issues to make life more bearable.
OK, bro, you don't *have* to work with us.
One day as the time approached, Dave and I set my 130W guitar amp up in the window closest to the drum room window. I ran my guitar (with hot pickups in series for maximum signal) through my Big Muff Pi with every control cranked on axe, fuzz, and amp. I basically practiced scales and power chords as hard as I could for a half hour, then just beat the snot out of the same chord for a half hour. Dave hung out in the kitchen, drinking iced tea and reading.
When I finally stopped, I took off the unplugged headphones (I like my hearing), and after a few seconds realized the pounding I heard was the front door, not a bass drum. The drummer was at the door, livid. I opened the door, he started to yell, and I screamed "SHUT UP!" I never acted like that so he did. "Look," I said, "you practice when you want, as loud as you want, so I will, too. If you want to move to a room on the other side of the house, or just move your time as Dave asked, I'll happily move mine, too. Thanks." He left, grumbling, but moved his drums to the spare room on the other side of his house.
Whenever I play with anyone new(concert band or big band), I intentionally set my volume a little low. I'd rather hear "hey, can ya turn it up a little" than "yer too effing loud!" I'm always able to say that I have no problem turning up, but with my amp I can be louder than all of the rest of you without breaking a sweat-or a speaker. Amps trump* acoustic-even drums-every time.:smug:
*no political reference intended
 
I was going to say, "Well, the rockers are", but then I recalled some of my very non rock-rock-and-roll friends in HS stage band, whose goal was to play in a symphony, and who were at the top of the heap for rebel scum.[1]

[1] Star Wars reference, not judgement. These were good friends!
I was definitely thinking "rock" initially, but decided to just include all musicians after thinking of jazz, blues, etc. Then I realized I could expand to "artists". But then I just left it as-is.
 
here's one you don't see everyday....62 Magnatone 460.....Wrecking Crew...Carol Kaye...
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What's that rig all about? And what kind of work does it need?
it's a low production amplifier built in SoCal in the 60s (and later but these are the ones folks want). Highly regarded today since it was the studio recording guitar/bass amp benchmark of the day. In an interview, Kaye stated that "many folks thought she used B-15s mostly, when in reality it was Magnatones"......this one is a 62 and it's ALL original (hard to find like this...tubes...filters...etc.)...it came in with a shorted filter cap..

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A few people asked, so I'll post it here in case anyone wants to share and spread the word. It's a Fender American Vintage Reissue '62 with a gold pickguard, very distinct wear, and a heart shaped knot on the back. Serial #V163994. I can be reached at 360-317-6588 if anyone ever gets a lead on it. Thanks everyone!

I certainly empathize. My P is a lowly MIM ‘14 (LPB) with chromes. But I have bonded with it. I love it and would hate for something to happen to it. I’ll keep an eye out for yours.