I've been seeking out the music stores in State College. Today, I took a jaunt to Music Mart. It's a great little shop, with really nice people. Definitely go check it out if you're in town.
Anywho, I was looking at pickups when the owner (Tom, great guy) walked out from the backroom. When I mentioned my cheap little Martin, he got a little gleam in his eyes and said, "you want to see a Martin?" and promptly disappeared into the back again. Then he came out with an old case and set it on a chair. And opened it.
You know those moments in cartoons where someone gets bathed in golden light while opening a treasure chest, with angels singing in the background? That's exactly how I felt. Wow.
Forget about the guitar's rarity for a second. It sounded divine. I'd often heard that pre-war Martin guitars sounded great because of the lighter bracing pattern. But wow, did this thing sing! It was so clean and balanced, with really sweet mids and a bass that gently envelops you in a soothing bath of harmonic overtones. And it was so loud! For a little parlor guitar, the thing projected more than any large dread guitar I've ever heard.
Structurally, it was in really good condition. It was my first time playing a 12-fret neck, and the V-neck contour was surprisingly comfortable. It had an ebony nut, which I'd never seen before. And it was so light! It honestly felt as light as a ukulele. And the resonance... it was breathtaking. I could feel every note run through my arms, and I felt like my whole body was a subwoofer.
Tom was thinking of selling it for $4500. It could easily go for double that! Guitar will never be the same. That Martin broke me. No guitar I'll ever own can compare with it. Unless I win the lottery and get a handmade one or something...
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