time with old friends…

One of my least favorite things to do is traveling with a guitar; I am an adamant advocate of carrying it on whenever possible, or at the very least gate-check it, and the Calton Case I use for peace of mind is far from being an ideal solution for airport schlepping, if you catch my drift!

Granted, there are times when I just *have* to take an axe along – for instance if I’m flying to a gig. Since leaving Nashville in 2006, though, I’ve elected to leave at least one of my guitars at my family’s home in Italy, so that whenever I come for a visit I can keep up the practice regimen as well as play the occasional show. My 1993 Ragghianti has been “living” there pretty much ever since, as I’ve used a cedar/cocobolo McGill as my main squeeze starting in the spring of 2007.

Fabio Ragghianti is a terrific builder from Pietrasanta, just a couple of hours south of Genova. The guitar was originally built for my first teacher Armando Corsi in 1993, and I acquired it as my first “serious” classical in 2001. Its main characteristics are stunning looks (curly spruce and birdseye maple), a warm and fundamental tone, and a neck roughly the girth and heft of a baseball bat. I remember being completely captivated by its smell, feel, and overall character when I first played it in a local music store, where it was held on consignment: guitaristic love affairs often involve more than one of our senses.

In 2003, I packed this very guitar (as well as a 12-fret Ted Thompson T2X, since sold…cute little one!) on my way to college in Nashville. Despite its idiosyncratic wood combination, and an overall construction more akin to a sort of über flamenco/bossa nova crossover instrument, the Ragghianti served me exceptionally well through the program, and accompanied me on countless musical trips across the US and to Canada, Germany, Denmark and France.

Needless to say, it’s always very special to get back with such an old trusted companion – one that I can never bring myself around to sell, even though I could probably get twice as much as what I paid for it. Its voice is clear and strong as I remember it, yet I can hear my *own* technical improvements in its increased warmth and richness. As I’m packing my things to head back Stateside, the guitar lingers out of its case, waiting until the last minute to get a few more clandestine hours together.

Tags: guitar