gearlust

It's a phenomenon that has run rampant amongst my musician friends, but up until now has left me mercifully alone.
Not so any more. I have a serious case of gearlust.

gearlust
To have an intense desire for equipment.
It is usually used in the audio world.
(from Urban Dictionary)

It's this whole wanting to be creative, wanting to be interesting, wanting to be different thing that started it. I'm being completely serious. I'm blaming my creativity, my non-conformist desire to look and sound unconventional, not branded into some genre or image, for my gearlust.

The topic of discussion in the studio of late has been how I should mount a live show (well, it's been one of many topics of conversation on what comes next). The thing is that I really do see myself behind an instrument on stage; however, the feasibility of playing a grand piano everywhere I go is virtually non-existent. It would appear that I need to purchase a keyboard in order to have portability and practicality in performace.

Herein lies the problem. I have a fundamental opposition to playing a keyboard on stage. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against keyboards, or keyboard players, but I am not a high-tech, fully synthesized-type of musician. No sirree. If anything, I'd rather look and sound vintage.

That said, the discussion had turned to old-school electric pianos instead. A Rhodes piano, perhaps, or a Wurlitzer; pianos with an output allowing for amplification, but with a smaller, more intimate, more distinct sound.

And then, there it was. My incredible producer/friend and I were out for lunch mid-session when he decided to pop by a vintage music store in the Kensington Market that he often frequents. And, lo and behold, there it was. A 1954 vintage Wurlitzer piano, in a scuffed up, cream coloured finish (immediate thought: it would look incredible under a spotlight) - complete with the lid that officially turns it into a fully portable suitcase piano.

I fell instantaneously in love.

I fell hard. I fell fast. I fell so completely that I had to go back to visit it an hour later, to play every note, to figure out if it was just a passing fancy or the beginnings of a slow-burning flame.

Tonight, I have coerced my wonderful dad to come down and look at it with me. An expert musician, he will appraise it, approve it, and (hopefully) help me afford it.

And then, maybe, I can stop talking about it. Out for birthday drinks last night with a group of musician friends, I ranted and raved, showing the printed out version of the vintage Wurlitzer manual that we'd found online. The guys totally understood. So much so in fact that they gave me high-fives for joining the gearlust club, for feeling the pangs of intense desire so strong that it consumes the majority of thought. J. swears that he's falling in love with it himself because I can't stop talking about it.

As for being interesting?
I may have just unintentionally and yet fatefully found my unique and unconventional image.

I mean, how many girls do you know who own and play a vintage 1954 Wurlitzer piano as their instrument of choice?
Especially with a violin on the side?

I thought so.