Plectrums, man; they're the bane of my life. Well thats pushing it a wee bit too far maybe. I go through a ton of them, I know that much. For anyone who doesn't know, plectrums (picks, to my American cousins) are little rounded triangles, usually made of... er... stuff... that we guitar players use to SMITE the strings. With Amazing Effect! And Blistering Speed! Zoom! Pretty straight-forward, right? Wrong!
There are two little flies in this plectrum-scented ointment. Fly the first; there are tens of thousands of different kinds of plectrums out there, which gives guitar players a big old double helping of choice. And we don't Do choice. Fly the second is that plectrums are physically small and insignificant. Which means I lose them by the hundred...
So yeah, the whole choice thang. That old chestnut. Different materials, different shapes, different colors, thicknesses, grips, brands. And then there's the fact that several of our heroes have their own signature picks! Like everything else in guitar playing, the debate over the best one has forums dedicated to it, and fanatics in every camp. All this leads to the common sight of a guitar player huddled in the fetal position in front of the pick display case of your local music shop, hugging their knees and mumbling something incoherent about 'tortex'. We've all seen it. It probably has a name. If it doesn't, I'd like to propose 'Rob's Syndrome', cos I've always wanted a psychiatric condition named after me.
I have to admit though, I'm a victim of pick-inspired eccentricity myself. I think I have early onset Rob's Syndrome. What delicious irony! I've been using a certain pick consistently for the last two years (the Dunlop Nylon Standard Max-Grip 1.14mm, in case you're wondering), but, on the advice of a friend, I've started using the famous Dunlop Jazz III. Small, thick, red, and nigh-on impossible to hold, I'm happy to report I'm getting used to them. Yay! One more tiny facet of guitar playing in which my snobbery has increased! But read on...
The only reason I mention any of this is that the time is once again coming around when the members of One Horse Pony compile a huge list of all the tiny day-to-day things we need and order the lot off thomann.de in Germany, making a huge saving in comparison to shopping at our local music shop, and then spend the savings on mindless shite we don't need. I am ordering TEN types of pick! Not ten picks, you understand. Multi-packs of ten different types! There was just far too much choice; I couldn't help myself! SEVEN of those are variations of the Dunlop Jazz III. What the hell is wrong with me? My only partial excuse (but in all honesty, it ain't a bad excuse) is that one of the variants is made of carbon fiber. You have to admit, thats pretty cool.
I'd imagine its probably the plectrum Batman would use if he played guitar.
Now that I come to think of it, he probably does.
Bottom line, guitar players don't respond well to choice, and if you come across a full blown case of Rob's Syndrome, the important thing is to keep the victim warm, well hydrated, and away from online music shops.
The second fly in this longwinded fly-in-ointment metaphor is the fact that your average plec is a small and easily misplaced little gadget. To illustrate that, here's a true story. With some time to kill one day, I took one of those time-killing wanders into my favorite guitar shop (favorite because the owner gives me a trade discount).
“Hi Bill!”
“Hi Rob!”
After some shop talk and a bit of a mooch around the store, I took my leave, but not before buying five plectrums. This was the last thing I did before leaving the shop. Paid for my picks, and out the door I boldly hopped. By the time I entered the outside world, I had four plecs left. Between the door and the counter (which was Next To The Door!) I had lost 20% of the plectrums I had purchased. This is not an isolated incident. They just disappear! They resent their captivity and the yoke of my dominion, and therefore make a concerted effort to break free at every turn. This would probably make a good film. In fact, I've heard The Great Escape was originally about plectrums. The whole WWII angle was added later. And I'm pretty sure the hole that has appeared in the designated plec pocket in my favorite pair of jeans is the result of digging. Distinct shovel marks can be made out. However, this subversive plectrum activity gives me an excuse for further plectrum shopping. Which I'm not-so-secretly delighted about.
In the spirit of full and frank disclosure, one last word about the Dunlop Jazz III's. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm not the guy that tried the specialized and unwieldy plectrum that some of his heros use and realized it happens to suit him perfectly. I'm the idiot that has put time and effort into practicing with a specialized and unwieldy plectrum until it happens to kinda suit me, just so I can tell people that I use a specialized and unwieldy plectrum. It's probably due to Rob's Syndrome...
Oh yeah, the title is a reference to the common problem of losing the plec i had in my hand TWO SECONDS AGO! After frantic searching, I invariable realise I've put it in my mouth for safe keeping. We all do this. I'm not the only one.
Thanks for reading, guys. More to come
R
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