What happens when you haven't changed your guitar strings for 20 years?
Reflections on returning to music after a prolonged hiatus.
‘Ruby sees All’ played on the radio while I was in the waiting room. Its one of those little things you remember when your life changes. The specialist said I had acute tendonitis. He smiled and said it should get better in a few months with therapy. But it never did.
It was easy to see how it happened. I wanted to get into Music school. I did an audition to play classical guitar - I played Bourrée by Bach, and I had thoroughly bungled it. The head of the department decided to approve me anyway - but only if I worked hard to get better.
Though I had a terrible audition, I was determined to prove myself worthy.
I should have never been admitted into music school, my ability was far behind the other students. But the next 4 months of my life was madly simple: wake up, practice guitar, classes, practice guitar, maybe food, practice guitar. Practice was my obsession.
I had just begun to improve when the tell-tale signs came - the numbness and weakness in my left hand. Jars were impossible to open and I even had trouble turning door knobs. I could not bring my thumb and pinky together closer than 5cm, leaving my hand in an ugly claw.
Though I dropped out of music school and changed my studies, I was still obsessed with the guitar. I decided to figure out alternative guitar tunings. I had hopes that a lowered tuning with tighter fretting patterns would be easier on my left hand. After a few months I had hundreds of different tunings with their chord patterns drawn into my manual.
The slackness of the drop tunings made the strings softer to play. I eventually could play up to 15 or 20 minutes a day. Though my thenar eminence on my left hand was twice the size of the right, the practice had paid off; I was much better at playing the guitar despite the limited ability I had.
It was enough to keep me creatively satisfied for a couple years, while still dreaming of being a musician. In the interim, I had graduated university, studying information systems. The new field open doors for me I couldn’t even have imagine yet. I decided to do something brave.
That bravery was to relocate myself 13,000 kilometres away.
I left my country to start life over again. It was a total reboot: I had no job, no friends, or family in my new country. I sold my gear. In addition, my notebook with all my alternate tunings were left behind and lost.
During the first six months I dated a girl who gave me her brothers 3/4 size classical guitar. The relationship did not last, but the guitar stayed. It was a lovely little Korean-made guitar. Although I did not have my book of tunings, I tuned it to the only non standard guitar tuning I remembered: D F# C# E A E.
The next 20 years were a wonderful blur. So much life happened.
I was involved in a successful tech start up. I had met and married the love of my life. I had lost one of my best friends and mentors to cancer. Our Cinderella start up was sold to an overseas competitor for a small fortune.
During my business career, I would play that little guitar once every four months for a few minutes. And then promptly forget about it, putting that little guitar back in the closet.
This time was very good to me, but it didn’t mean I was always happy.
Working in business, technology, and managing people had drained the life force from me. I had no appetite to ever return to that world again. In fact that world disgusts me now. The hopeful and quirky world of 2000’s tech had given way to corporate bloat and conformity.
It was late 2022.
I started writing lyrics in my weird little tuning. I realised soon enough that I was the only person that would be able to sing my songs. I started to take singing lessons. I had sung in choirs and choruses before, but this would be like learning to walk again.
One of the first vocal coaches I tried didn’t work out well. My instructor told me he was startled about how little I could open my mouth. He wondered how I could get any sound out at all, and said it was painful to watch me attempt to sing. He was impatient and looked like he had better things to do. It was discouraging.
But around the same time, I had found a quirky vocal coach originally from Slovenia. It really turned things around for me. She heard the uniqueness of my own voice, and was able to challenge me to get the best out of my voice. I grew confident in my tone thanks to her steadfast help and belief in me.
I also needed a new guitar, and had one custom built for me: an electric guitar that could handle alternate tunings, 3/4 size with a wider neck to make it easier on my hands. It was gorgeous, but playing it on my tuning sounded atonal. I had sent it to be fixed but it returned with the same issue. Sadly, it was useless to me.
From that point on, I did some research and started looking for the Eastman La Romeo. I knew I had to try it out in my tuning, and luckily there was a local music store that just got one in.
I tucked myself in a corner, and turned the volume way down, and try to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. It was the perfect guitar, and I ended up buying it and hanging out in the music store regularly.
I got to know the guys who worked at the music store and even got invited to work in their new studio. Even better, those guys became friends. I finally felt heard as musician and even had opportunities to return the favour and support their new studio.
Its now 2026.
I’ve written nearly 40 songs in the past 4 years.
As a young man, I loved writing songs on my guitar. I had recorded hundreds of little songs and riffs on a simple cassette recorder. Those songs, however, had no life experience behind them, they were a result of me trying to sound clever and/or artistic.
But the newer songs are from lived experiences. I am immensely proud of them.
I’ve selected 8 of the songs for an album and plan to start recording them soon. In addition, I’ve taken some big steps in to performing as well. I am a self-conscious person, so getting in front of people is difficult.
I’ve played in front of friends and even have played a couple of very small gigs. Its still a struggle, but the more exposure I’ve had the easier its gotten. I’ve even recently started on Twitch.
Where is this going? I don’t know.
Its easy to be discouraged - there are voices in my head saying I’m too old, that AI is replacing musicians. And worse, that no one will want to listen to me. But then there is another voice there too.
That voice feels powerful in front of a microphone. It feels energised when the strings of the guitar vibrate. And before I even know it, that other voice of doubt and fear dissolves to insignificance.
I didn’t have a title while writing this article, so I looked at my guitars for inspiration. I came back to that first guitar which was gifted to me when I arrived to this country. It looked worn, but well.
Then I realised I had not changed the strings since receiving it. For a brief moment I thought of changing them. But the strings, dull and tarnished, carry my DNA. They carry all the pain and joy I’ve had in the past two decades, and yet still softly call out to be played.
So what happens when you haven’t changed your guitar strings for 20 years?
You keep playing.