J. Bonamassa concert coming to my neck of the woods in August, it'll be my fifth one. It's a joy if you know how to play. For beginners even the simplest open chord songs bring a lot of joy. The poet Ted Kooser once said:
The Guitar
It came with those scratches
from all their belt buckles,
palm-dark with their sweat
like the stock of a gun:
an arc of pickmarks cut
clear through the lacquer
where all the players before me
once strummed—once
thumbed these same latches
where it sleeps in green velvet.
Once sang, as I sing, the old songs.
There’s no end, there’s no end
to this world, everlasting.
We crumble to dust in its arm
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