Aaron Baker

The idea of people naming inanimate objects has always seemed equally endearing and ridiculous to me. Needless to say, I don't have a name for my axe. I don't have a presumption as to what sex it is either. It's just a Peavey Raptor. But it's the only electric guitar I've ever owned. The dings and scratches it's acquired over the years really don't bother me and I don't always clean off the dried blood from underneath the strings when I change them. I have no idea whose strap it is that keeps the guitar hanging from my shoulder when I play, or how it ended up there, but it's a good leather one with a button that says "I am loved".
            I've had that guitar for 8 years. Written a lot of songs on it. Played a few shows. Recorded one album. It's my weapon of choice when it comes to expressing those feelings words cannot. And after all this time, I guess I'd gotten used to working with its quirks. The inconsistent volume pot. The crackle and snap of a sensitive jack. Until one day it just stopped working. I thought "Well, time to get a new guitar."

Not long after that, in a casual conversation I was relaying my 6-string blues to co-worker Jeff Tovson. Jeff offered to take a look at it for me and reassured me that it was probably something simple. I brought it in to work the next Friday with a fresh pack of strings and he took it home to keep it over the weekend. Before I knew it, it was Monday morning and my guitar was as good as new. Jeff fixed everything on it. No more crackles or snaps. And thanks to the adjustment he made to the neck, I've got sweet buttery action. Intonation was something I always knew existed but seemed impossibly out of reach. Now it's a dream come true.

Thanks Jeff! You rock!