#guitar

It was my 16th birthday - my mom and dad gave me my Goya classical guitar that day. I sat down, wrote this song, and I just knew that that was the only thing I could ever really do - write songs and sing them to people. ↗

— Stevie Nicks

#birthday #classical #classical guitar #could #dad

Enthusiasm is everything. It must be taut and vibrating like a guitar string. ↗

— Pele

#everything #guitar #like #must #string

I learned to tune a guitar by ear. That method has served me pretty well. ↗

— Charley Pride

#guitar #i #learned #me #method

I think people must wonder how a white girl like me became a blues guitarist. The truth is, I never intended to do this for a living. ↗

— Bonnie Raitt

#blues #girl #guitarist #how #i

I've always thought that the act of playing the guitar was the act of trying to make a point of playing the guitar. ↗

— Mick Ronson

#always #guitar #i #make #playing

I remember growing up always loving the guitar. I used to love to watch the people play on the Country Western shows on TV. My folks told me that when I was just a toddler, I used to pretend I was playing a guitar on a toothpick. ↗

— Carl Wilson

#country #folks #growing #growing up #guitar

I just go where the guitar takes me. ↗

— Angus Young

#guitar #i #just #me #takes

Quinn spoke their language—all mystery and inside jokes, scarred souls and statement shirts. It was a beautiful moment for him—in his element and completely happy. When they started playing, he leaned over and whispered in my ear. “See that guitar?” I nodded. “That’s a 1969 Martin D28. Hear me when I say if I had to choose between a beautiful girl and that guitar, I’d choose the guitar. Natch.” He took a huge gulp of water, clearly affected. “Naturally,” I whispered. “It could be why you’re still single. ↗

— Laura Anderson Kurk

#glass-girl #guitar #henry-whitmire #indie-band #laura-anderson-kurk

I was ten when I heard the music that ended the first phase of my life and cast me hurtling into a new horizon. Drenched to the skin, I stood on Dunoon’s pier peering seawards through diagonal rain, looking for the ferry that would take me home. There, on the everwet west coast of Scotland, I heard it: like sonic scalpels, the sounds of electric guitars sliced through the dreich weather. My body hairs pricked up, each one a willing receiver for the Thunder-God grooves. To my young ears, the sound of these amplified guitars was angelic (although, with hindsight, I don’t suppose angels play Gibson guitars at ear-bleeding volume). A voice that suggested vocal chords of polished silver soared alongside razor-sharp overdriven riffs. I knew that I was hearing the future. ↗

— Mark Rice

#heavy-metal #mark-rice #metallic-dreams #rite-of-passage #rock-music

We sat around and I fed them barbecue and whiskey. And pretty soon everyone started to compete with each other on the guitars. It seemed the more everyone drank and ate, the more everyone got into it. ↗

— Gary Allan

#ate #barbecue #compete #drank #each