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RE: Hermanos Sanchiz - ANTONIO REY Negra
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RobF
Posts: 1611
Joined: Aug. 24 2017
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 RE: Hermanos Sanchiz - ANTONIO REY Negra (in reply to Ricardo)
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quote:
It might STILL be too high for you, and if this is the case, as I suspect is possible based on your explanation of the Maldonado, then it is simply not the guitar for you. I am sure you could sell it at normal price online, but from where I stand I don’t believe this guitar is flawed. There is nothing wrong with getting used to a super low action, I know lots of people that need that setup. And yes, they all think that guitars like mine feel like “driving a truck”. I get it, and you have a right to not be happy with that. But you feel cheated and targeted and this is likely NOT the case.
I honestly don’t think we should be normalizing 2mm or less as practical set-ups and encouraging players to feel it all comes down to a simple matter of user preference. It doesn’t. There are physical laws at play and expectations have to be reasonable. A maker building a guitar with that kind of action is going to have to make a number of compromises, none of which will ultimately benefit either the guitar as a musical instrument or the reputation of the builder as a competent maker.
My opinion is, if you want to play something with action less than 2mm, buy a 2X4 and nail a neck to it. I’m serious. That’s about the reality of it and you’re wasting your time and money on anything more. Any truly musical instrument won’t work, only dead pieces of thud will.
And furthermore…
If somebody brought me a normal guitar with the request that I lower the action to 2mm I would send them elsewhere. This business is difficult enough without ruining your health and peace of mind dealing with ludicrous requests made by unreasonable people. So, while it’s nice to humour the OP, who changed his story at will to meet his narrative, we shouldn’t. We should address realities. He was sent a good guitar and didn’t like it so he got angry and badmouthed the seller online, all the while playing the guitar and “experimenting” with string changes while negotiating a return, then sent a used guitar back in exchange for a new one and STILL complains that there isn’t enough saddle to adjust down from what is already a stupidly low action. Of course, there’ll be hell to pay for any poor sap who agrees to attempt to adjust it down any further as he will likely be faced with an unplayable instrument that’s fretting out on half the notes, but that’ll be his own fault for having had the lack of experience to even accept the job.
And poor Sr. Rey, who last I saw had a full head of hair and a happy smile on his face is now walking around with dark bags under his eyes, and clumps missing from his head from all the pulling, no longer able to speak beyond a croak after the wails of ultimate suffering he emitted upon realizing the guitar returned to him was totally fine all along. The poor guy got his reputation sullied online and he didn’t do anything wrong whatsoever, except try to make a living. Geez…
I’m not going to say it’s OK, because it isn’t.
Final anecdote…I have a friend who’s a decent player but suffered from “underplayitus” and tinkled away at the notes. Didn’t last long in Granada where his teacher basically told him either play the damned thing or get out of the class. To the teacher, it wasn’t a player choice issue, it was simply bad technique to play so demurely and he was fed up with attempting to teach wimp-assed foreigners who he felt were insulting his music by not playing it with some discernible level of feeling. Yeah, he was a hard ass, but he was also right, and my friend learned that he was either going to project or he’d not get any more lessons.
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REPORT THIS POST AS INAPPROPRIATE |
Date May 29 2022 16:33:47
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RobF
Posts: 1611
Joined: Aug. 24 2017
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RE: Hermanos Sanchiz - ANTONIO REY Negra (in reply to Morante)
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I like the diplomatic and compassionate approach taken by silddx in this thread and regret not having followed his example.
About once a week when the weather is nice I stroll downtown and grab a hotdog, poutine and coke from a food truck which always parks in the same spot in a rougher area frequented by homeless and street people. They have a hard life and there’s been at least one death in the immediate surrounding of the truck in the past year or so. I tend to grab my food and walk up another block to where there’s generally a bench available across the corner from the crazy guy who sits in a lawn chair near the cannabis shop, calling out friendly greetings to all passerby, asking for a touch of spare change. I don’t really call him crazy, that’s how he self-identifies, saying things like I wish they would just pay me to be crazy, then I wouldn’t have to beg, I’d be gainfully employed. I generally give him something.
Sometimes strangers will join me on the bench. My city is a compassionate place, so there are very few benches put out in areas frequented by the homeless and the ones that are there have those internal armrests, which are a subtle reminder to all honest taxpayers that no one can lie down and stretch out on one of these puppies. But that’s OK, people just lie on the ground against the art supply store, which doesn’t like it, but I don’t see them putting out any benches up without internal armrests for the homeless, so it is what it is. I don’t complain if someone wants to sit beside me, as long as they leave my poutine alone and don’t throw up on me or anything like that. That ugly armrest comes in useful in those occasions.
Well, today I was sitting there with my meal and a fellow stopped and asked if it was OK if he sat down and I said, of course, I welcome the company. He sat down and started the conversation with a complaint about the heat. I said - Well, it’s hot, but it’s not crazy hot, and you’re wearing a hoodie and a black leather jacket, so I’m not surprised that you’re hot, I’m OK. Where are you from? He said Africa, and named a small country that he said was near Rawanda, whose name I didn’t recognize. I mentioned I had an acquaintance, a very talented musician, who had moved back to his home in Rawanda and opened a school. I asked if his country was north near Somalia because his features looked a little Somalian to me. He said no. I have to confess when I sat down I was kind of upset about the goings on here in the Foro, mad at myself for being such a hardass to someone I don’t even know, and now this guy is sitting beside me in a hoodie and black leather jacket and maybe I should move my back pack to the other side, in case he was going to grab it and run, but I didn’t want to insult him, so I left it where it was between us. There was something strange about him, besides his heavy accent and the over-abundance of clothing, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was pleasant enough and we talked about which of the local parks downtown we liked to go to and about life in Canada, in general. He said Canada is a pretty big place, and I had to agree.
He reached into his satchel, pulled out his phone and asked me if I could hold it for him. I said, ummm, OK, and took it. He then reached in and pulled out a thick red pen but it slipped out of his hand and fell to the sidewalk and rolled under his foot. I sat, holding his phone, and looked at the pen. I didn’t reach down to retrieve it for him and I watched as he seemed to struggle to find it and pick it up. But he got it and straightened up and I gave him back his phone. He then used the pen, which I finally realized was a stylus, and said he had to tell a friend who was meeting him where he was so he could bring him to the discount computer store a few blocks away. He used the voice function for the bulk of the message.
He put away his phone and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed them to me. I said I haven’t smoked since 2008 but thanks for the offer. He said that’s OK, could you light one for me? I said no, I don’t want to have that smoke in my mouth. So he asked me if I could put a cigarette into his mouth and light it for him. I said sure and I placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it for him. We then sat in silence for a bit while he smoked and I started to ask him about life in his country when his friend showed up and apologized for being late. He said everything’s fine, you’re here now, and I’m already with a friend (me) so the wait was no bother.
He started to gather his belongings to leave and I watched his hands as he arranged his satchel. Then it dawned on me. His right hand was a prosthetic. Very realistic looking but dead, it had a bit of a resemblance to a hand covered in scar tissue, like he was a burn victim, but it was some kind of dark brown plastic. I looked at his other hand and realized it was also a prosthetic. He had no hands. He had never drawn attention to this, maybe he thought I was being discrete and didn’t want to embarrass him by acknowledging it, but in truth we had sat and chatted for about fifteen/twenty minutes and I simply just never realized. It was off my radar. I hadn’t helped him pick up his pen and sat in silence watching him struggle, but I did put the cigarette in his mouth and light it for him. Which was strange enough, not a normal occurrence. I don’t know how I missed it.
If you’re wondering what’s the point of this story, well, there might be one, I just don’t know what it is, it’s just an interesting story. And maybe only just to me. But there’s a point in there somewhere, I guess.
Oh yeah, I know what it is…..I’m boring…..
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REPORT THIS POST AS INAPPROPRIATE |
Date May 30 2022 4:07:07
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