I tune the guitar before every show. Then again after the second song. Sometimes after the first. It has become part of the evening, almost as dependable as introducing the band or wondering whether anyone bought a ticket by mistake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The G string is usually the first to lose faith. Sometimes it’s B. They take turns. I tighten one, then another slips a little, as though the instrument has decided that agreement among six is an unrealistic political system.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
People in the audience wait patiently while I turn the pegs. Someone always says, “Sounds good now,” before I’ve played another note. I appreciate the encouragement, although neither of us actually knows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There are guitars that seem carved from certainty. Mine appears to believe pitch is just a recommendation. It spends the evening exploring alternatives. Heat affects it. Cold affects it. Humidity affects it. A hard strum affects it. Looking at it the wrong way occasionally affects it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I found this irritating for years. I wanted an instrument that would simply stay where I put it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lately I’m less certain. Maybe the guitar is the honest one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Perhaps tuning isn’t something you finish. Perhaps it’s something you keep returning to, the way people return to friendships, marriages, ideas, or themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The audience hears the songs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hear the negotiations.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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