I was already a musician. I was playing guitar, bass, and drums. I'll be honest...I was an awful drummer. But I tried and I played with enthusiasm. I had an old Slingerland kit that I had talked mum into buying for me when I was 13 for a mere $100. I drove the family crazy with it. Dad always said he hated those drums...but on more than one occasion, I came home to find Dad pounding away at them. If you know my dad, you can imagine what a sight it was. For those of you who don't know him, imagine Bob Newhart with a bad Alan Alda perm, and plaid pants...banging away like a sorry Buddy Rich wannabe. Yep.
So, I started this job and decided that I would buy a REAL electric guitar. Something professional! I was working a grownup job, so the money would be rolling in...right? Then I discovered the various payroll deductions that make adult life suck. State taxes, city taxes, Social Security, etc. The guitar of my dreams was likely to remain just that. Until...
My friend Mark, who is and always has been one helluva picker, was selling his Fender Telecaster Deluxe. I had always wanted a Tele...and this was the DELUXE!!!! We all know that Deluxe anything is BETTER, right? The price: $150. I asked if he could wait a week or so until I got my paycheck. He agreed. Dad had decided at this point that most of MY money was going into the bank. Grrrrr. Now even this guitar was turning into a pipe dream. But wait....the drums. I came to the realization that I was a better guitarist than drummer. If I could sell those drums, I could get the guitar! Phone calls were made. Word was put around that these things were for sale. A friend at the local music store made a few calls. The next day, an old guy...gosh, he must've been 35 or 40, called. He gave me his story about having just gotten a divorce and had been forced to sell his drums. Problem? He was a drummer and couldn't make a living without drums! His pitch worked. Over he came with $150 in cash and away went the drums. A phone call to Mark was made, and he borrowed the family car and brought me the Telecaster Deluxe!!!!
Man, it was like a dream. It played so nicely and sounded, well, just fucking amazing! I was accustomed to plunking away on a Fender Musicmaster (sort of a student model) that sounded OK...but nothing like this Tele! This thing sang, screamed, and snarled! (Still does!) It's only flaws were purely cosmetic...and I didn't care.
It was the ugliest shade of shit brown I have even seen...and had a few gouges in the body. I mean deep, sharp chunks, somehow, knocked out if it. I didn't care. This was my baby! It has late 70s DiMarzio super distortion pickups in it...and for a 15 year old in 1981 who lived for The Ramones, The Clash, & The Sex Pistols, it was everything I could ever hope for!
I drove the family and the neighbors insane with it. I had a small Marlboro G20B amp at the time, and this guitar sounded best with the volume UP! If only that amp had gone to eleven! A house rule was laid down. I could play as loud as I wanted until 6:00pm. Any later, volume DOWN to a whisper. While I didn't like this idea (because really, electric guitars played by 15 year old boys should be LOUD) but I went along with it. If it was after 6, and no one was home, up went the volume. If someone came home...well, I'd merely lost track of the time.
I'm 48 now. I still have that same guitar. About a year or so after I got it, a friend of the family, a furniture maker by trade, offered to refinish it for me. I wanted it RED. You just never saw red guitars at the time...at least not at the local music stores. Maybe something more burgundy, but never red. I knew the exact shade I wanted and asked if he could match it. He said that he easily could. A week later, the guitar came back, RED...and he'd even filled and fixed the gouges! It looked brand spanketty new! To say that I was proud to play that guitar would be an understatement.
Around this time, I recall reading that BB King had named his guitar Lucille. I figured that my guitar should have a name too...but what? Out of nowhere, the name Agatha popped into my head...and that's been her name ever since. I have friends that, to this day, will ask about Agatha. Even my friends know her name!
I've taken this guitar to a lot of places. Almost every band I've played in, I've played Agatha. If you ever saw a Rowdy Bovines show, you saw Agatha. I've recorded hundreds of songs with her. Played countless gigs with her. At one point, my girlfriend at the time added a drawing of Elvis, which looked mighty killer. I've long since sweated that off of her. A lot of guitarists are thrilled to get their heroes to sign their guitars. Usually, that goes to my old Gibson ES 120T. Only three have ever been asked to sign Agatha, and they are three of the best ever. And they're all known for playing Telecasters too. Danny Gatton, Evan Johns, and Tino Gonzales. I've since sweated Tino's signature off. Danny signed it along the top, so that when I look down, I see his name. We were friends and he has always been an inspiration to my playing. Agatha was one of the last guitars Danny set up...and trust me, he was a genius at setups! I actually retired Agatha for a while after he died. I put his obituary in her case, along with the guitar. One day, I pulled her out, reread his obituary for the umpteenth time, and felt that Danny would be mad at me for just letting her collect dust. So, I started playing her again. I recorded the 1st and 2nd Tremblers records with her. Evan Johns...well, being Evan, and unable to find a marker, carved his name into her with a pen knife, while sitting on the side of the stage at The Decade. He is the ONLY human I would ever consider allowing near her with a sharp object. Why? Because he's Evan Johns!
Agatha was stolen once. Naturally, I freaked right the fuck out. But, we were meant to be together, and I got her back two weeks later. I learned a serious lesson about honesty from that...but it's a story for another time. Once, at a funeral, a cousin asked my dad why I never remarried. Dad answered that I was still with my first love. My cousin gave him a confused look, and Dad just played air guitar...my cousin understood immediately.
I've owned other Teles. Quite a few, actually. But...none compare. Not by a long shot. As the years went on, I started worrying about losing her again. I didn't want to risk her being stolen, or worse, crushed by a moron baggage handler. As I started touring more, this became a real concern, so I went in search of a Telecaster to tour with. I tried quite a few...none 'fit'. I eventually found one...an 80s Mexican Tele, with 3 Strat-style pickups. It was only a couple hundred bucks. The only other one quite like it that I know of is owned by Dave Gonzales of The Paladins. We had a nice talk about these one night splitting a bill here in town. It was too clean sounding, so I figured I'd hot rod it a bit, and use it as my road Tele. I had a pickup that Gatton gave me put into the bridge position. It's a screamer! Oddly enough,this guitar too is red. That never hit me until a few years after I got it. What is it with me and red Telecasters? Anyhoo, I grew so fond of that guitar, and the hotrod job I had done on it, that it became my primary guitar. Agatha was put into semi-retirement...only to be used for studio sessions and the rare gig. Whenever we did a Bovines reunion, I'd bring her out. That guitar IS The Rowdy Bovines. Her sound is what made the band what it was. Not quite distorted but just big, fat tone. Definitely not rockabilly, which we were always accused of being.
The past few years, I've only played her at home. I took her out to a gig once, and was panicky all night. I kept looking to make sure she was still right where I left her. Yep...I'm a nut.
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