Paul Roub

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Saturday Bloody Saturday

So I neglected to say “thanks” to everyone who came out to the Sun Shoppe last Saturday – a surprising number of you, in more ways than one. And it really was a good night – not least thanks to my brother, Brad, bringing on the percussion.

Midway through the first set, I looked down and wondered why the hell these new strings already looked so rusty. Then I remembered that every time I’ve had that thought, it has not been rust, but rather the result of me wripping my right index finger to shreds. At that point, I also noticed that the strings were not the only part of the guitar so anointed.

Unusually, this time it was not during “Closer”, when all caution and restraint are generally abandoned. I think it was during “Room To Breathe”, but I don’t know. Definitely a while before I actually noticed it had happened.

Hard to get a decent picture of the results, but here’s the best I could get (click for a larger version):

blood-flecked Taylor 615

And yes, those are droplets inside the guitar as well. You can’t really make out the lovely spray pattern on the pickguard. One of the unsung benefits of tortoise-shell patterns, I guess.