Over the years — since 2019 — I’ve bought, sold, traded, repaired, and experimented with guitars of all shapes and styles. It’s been a journey driven by curiosity, by feel, by sound, and sometimes by pure chance. But today, something settled in me more clearly than ever:
I only need one or two modern machines. The rest should be vintage, classic, or vintage-inspired — instruments that carry stories, not just specs.
I don’t need an arsenal of cutting-edge guitars with boutique builds and precision engineering. As incredible as they are — brands like Suhr, Novo, Nik Huber, James Tyler, or even EBMM’s St. Vincent — I’ve learned that they often don’t hold emotional or market value the way a good Gibson or Fender can. The resale on boutique modern guitars is often underwhelming, and unless they become your signature piece, they rarely feel like they earn their cost.
I’d rather spend a little less on meaningful modern guitars — ones that I can enjoy and keep — like the Haruna Telecaster or Mami Strat. They’re fun, affordable, and they connect with my musical identity without straining the wallet or the heart.
If I’m going to spend a few grand, I’d rather it be on a Gibson R7/R8, a Custom Shop Fender, or a well-worn Telecaster — guitars with legacy, heritage, and strong resale potential. Instruments that feel like they’ll still matter in 20 years, not just look cool on a forum post today.
Right now, I’m proud of what’s on my rack:
- R6 Goldtop — the soul of vintage Gibson.
- Clapton Strat — refined classicism with subtle power.
- Collings 290 — modern craftsmanship with old-school bite.
- “Free” (my lefty LP Studio) — my best budget bruiser.
- Faith & Joy — guitars I gave to my girls, but that gave me something even deeper back.
The rest? They’re great guitars. But I’ve made peace with letting them go for the right price. Because they’re not mine in the emotional or spiritual sense — they were stops along the way.
This is my rule of thumb now:
Modern axes shouldn’t be too pricey unless they become personal.
More money should go into vintage and legacy pieces that can outlast me.
I’ll know the next modern machine when it clicks. But until then, I’m content with what I have — not just in gear, but in clarity.