Christopher Legg

Curved, beautiful, smooth, affective, scratched, beaten, broken, and valuable – this is how I view my Alvarez guitar. I’ve had it for three and a half years, and it means more to me than I ever thought it would when I bought it. Although it isn't the most expensive or nicest guitar, I value it more than any other high quality one that I’ve played. That includes the likes of Gibson, Fender, Ibananez, Epiphone, and Yamaha - all of which are all fantastic guitars, but I don’t identify with any of them. This Alvarez wasn’t my first guitar, and I wasn’t even its first owner, but I built a connection with it faster than I’ve built connections with some people.

Along the lower side of the face, there is an inch long gash that was the result of running into a cabinet. On the under belly of the body it has a crack that was from a drop caused by a design flaw of the strap peg coming unhooked occasionally. The bridge that the strings are stretched over sometimes comes lose from wear and tear, and the strings have to be restrung. But yet, I still value it, which gives it value. Just like these defects, I too have scars that were caused by people who have gashed me, by my own personal flaws, and from the harshness of life.

I am a sinful creature, but I have been given value by something outside of myself, similar to me giving my guitar value. It covers my imperfections and shortcomings. It empowers me to perform the melodies of life. Because the Alvarez is flawed, the experience of playing it is much more personal because I’m not just playing an instrument, I’m acting out what has done in my life by making something broken into a beautiful melody.