It’s a GAS, GAS, GAS

I’m obsessed with electric guitars. Oddly enough, when I was a gigging musician, from about age 16 through 30, I didn’t much care what guitars I played. I was broke, and I didn’t want to worry about my guitar getting stolen, drenched in beer, or falling victim to the other hazards that came with being a would-be rock star.

But a few years ago, I found I was spending a lot of time playing for my own amusement. The battered, Mexican-made Telecaster Deluxe from my glory days had some issues, and I decided that I would spec out and build a custom Stratocaster. I had acquired a severe case of what is known among my fellow guitarists as Guitar Acquisition Syndrome, or GAS.