It's a world of woe and travail, no doubt. But every now and again a single person stands up and holds back the flood of overwhelming trouble and makes things go right for a change. When such a person crosses your trail, the stars are a bit brighter because you known enlightened human effort is on your side and good things are being made to happen thereby. Take luthiers, for example.

Those of us who love to pound and torque our poor instruments in bright sunlight and dank fog and sumer heat and mmountain dust and carnival vibrations and even thunderstorms know what it is to be in love with a musical instrument. No-one can ever explain what holding a deepthroated, wide-bout dreadnought that suddenly clicks into singing on your command, shaking your own ribs and the rafters and everything with a sweet musick can be like. No-one who has experienced it needs any explanation.

Take Chris Camp, of Camp Music. You might think he was a New Yawk beatnik or taxidriver to look at him. But ask him why your favorite Martin is slightly deeper in the mids than another one of the same make and model, and he'll amaze you with an analysis down to the trees the wood came from and the weather they grew up in. Well, not quite -- but awful close. He's Martin's designated warranty luthier for this part of the world. When my 60's era D35 started uncurling its bridge, I called Chris.

And after 3 moths of heartbroken separation, I got her back today. Her X-braces had been replaced, her saddle and saddle plate had too. She had a new bridge, a new nut and new frets and strings. She'd been cleaned up from top to bottom and shone like the evening star, her Brasilian rosewood glinting. And sound!! I swan it was like holding a singing angel to your heart. And better than new, as far as I was concerned.

So I am forever in Chris' debt. Sure I paid him for his work, but that is never the whole story with a real luthier. Because I know my baby is carrying his affectionate care and careful eye and delicate hand-crafted work around inside her, just as surely as the ghost of old man Martin is in there, too, somewhere...

Now you who are luthiers know what he must have gone through on this old guitar, and a little of why it was magic; and when he comes around here (as he has promised me he will) I hope you will greet him as a right master of the trade and a brother. He's one hell of a guy and a life-saving luthier of the first order.

Thanks, Chris. When you get here, welcome to the Mudcat. May you relish the hours spent here among friends.


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