There are these rare moments when musicians together touch something sweeter than they've ever found before in rehearsals or performance, beyond the merely collaborative or technically proficient, when their expression becomes as easy and graceful as friendship or love. This is when they give us a glimpse of what we might be, of our best selves, and of an impossible world in which you give everything you have to others, but lose nothing of yourself. Out in the real world there exist detailed plans, visionary projects for peaceable realms, all conflicts resolved, happiness for everyone, for ever – mirages for which people are prepared to die and kill. Christ's kingdom on earth, the workers' paradise, the ideal Islamic state. But only in music, and only on rare occasions, does the curtain actually lift on this dream of community, and it is tantalizingly conjured, before fading away with the last notes - Ian McEwan, from his novel Saturday
Nobody builds them like Todd. You have to admire the way he digs into the research aspects of these historic instruments like this project his copy of Lydia Mendoza's 12 string. All the aesthetics and detail work aside, they're also just great-sounding guitars.
In 2014 I mentioned to Todd that he might want to try selling his guitars in my friend Mark Waldrop's store "Guitar Tex" in San Antonio. They spoke, and sure enough, Mark knew the very Acosta mentioned in the article, which is how Todd connected with him. Wheels within wheels in our very small world.
Logged
My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music. Vladimir Nabokov (1899 - 1977)