Bruce Fish wanted me to come by a couple of summers ago to meet Taylor and Martin. When he mentioned this I thought it'd be his usual good-natured weirdness; maybe he'd named the dump bears Taylor and Martin. I swung on by to meet him and his new friends soon afterwards.
I sat in his little shelter on the crest of the massive chasm of junk. He said, "This is Taylor". He handed me a beautiful beat up guitar from a grimy case. It was a Taylor acoustic with quite a few dings in her. I looked at him and he held up "Martin". This was a 1970's Martin dreadnaught guitar. Well worn: There was a hole below the pick guard that made it look like Willy Nelson's guitar. There was also a smaller hole top side.
He'd found them deep in the dump pit. They'd rolled off a truck that had been used to clean out an abandoned cottage north of Kingston.
French had come by a few weeks before and had carefully reset, re-strung and re-tuned these beauties. They were kept in in locked steel shed. "Cuz they're special", said Bruce Fish.
He continued: "Now you boys got guitars to play when you come by. I'm hoping someone will throw out a drum kit soon".
Rose lit a fire in an old oil drum. Bruce Fish handed me a pick and we sang and strummed a few old songs from our high school days. Those guitars had a warm full tone. Bruce Fish and I sounded pretty good, for a dump band.
The dump has opened up for cottage season this past weekend. Time to head up and see Rose, Bruce Fish, Taylor and Martin.
I sat in his little shelter on the crest of the massive chasm of junk. He said, "This is Taylor". He handed me a beautiful beat up guitar from a grimy case. It was a Taylor acoustic with quite a few dings in her. I looked at him and he held up "Martin". This was a 1970's Martin dreadnaught guitar. Well worn: There was a hole below the pick guard that made it look like Willy Nelson's guitar. There was also a smaller hole top side.
He'd found them deep in the dump pit. They'd rolled off a truck that had been used to clean out an abandoned cottage north of Kingston.
French had come by a few weeks before and had carefully reset, re-strung and re-tuned these beauties. They were kept in in locked steel shed. "Cuz they're special", said Bruce Fish.
He continued: "Now you boys got guitars to play when you come by. I'm hoping someone will throw out a drum kit soon".
Rose lit a fire in an old oil drum. Bruce Fish handed me a pick and we sang and strummed a few old songs from our high school days. Those guitars had a warm full tone. Bruce Fish and I sounded pretty good, for a dump band.
The dump has opened up for cottage season this past weekend. Time to head up and see Rose, Bruce Fish, Taylor and Martin.
7 comments:
Man, that was good. Music can touch the past like old photos. Liked it a lot.
Gotta hear this dump band. There's alot of soul in the dump. Like in the picture, the guitar is all used up and worn - that's the way our souls should look when we die.
HP
nothing beats jammin' in the dump. Good thing Bruce Fish scooped those sweet guitars before SC did -- he lives for that shit. One man's trash is another man's gold. Solid Gold (Dancers), that is.
I know a guy who met his wife "dumpster diving" - no joke. True love found in the pits of a rusty bin.
Oh, it will be fun to hear more Rose and Bruce Fish stories, and I wish I could hear the dump band, too :)
nice...play on man...and bring those babies back to life...
wow. i need to come by this dump sometime. sounds like quite the place to hang. and to find some pretty sweet guitars...
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