THEA: This song is about an actual experience I had. For many years, I sang lead and background vocals in a variety of Top 40/R&B bands. It’s not true for every genre of music, but for that one, it’s a little easier to age out performance-wise. When I found myself getting to that point, I decided to go back to my roots: My best friend and I had an acoustic duo that played around Wisconsin Dells when we were in high school, so I pulled a guitar out of storage and took it to a pro shop in Seattle where I was living at the time.

This particular instrument had no truss rod, and the neck had bowed over the years, causing mild intonation issues on the higher frets. The cost for the repair was more than the guitar was worth, and the luthier’s recommendation was to (quite unceremoniously) throw it away.

“Can I just give it to a student?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Should I just donate it? It still has such a warm, beautiful tone.”

“Unless you want to pay for a neck re-set, I wouldn’t give it to anybody.”

When I heard this, the diagnosis made me irrationally upset. I mean, who doesn’t want to go buy a new guitar? Who is bothered by that idea? But I found myself crying over it for about a day before I realized what was really bothering me: I was the guitar. I still sounded good, but…I was older. Maybe it was time for me to be thrown away too.

Or maybe not.

So the song (largely crafted by Chad, at my topic suggestion—and refined by the two of us over the kitchen table) is about a Takamine nylon string guitar.

It’s also about me.

And FWIW: I didn’t throw it away.

Anything to add, Chad?

CHAD: This is Thea’s story to tell. I just helped her bring her story to life.

I will say, though, that originally I had used the words “repair shop” because I thought “luthier” was too much. Thea, rightfully, pointed out something like “Let’s just say ‘music store’” and I have to say it flowed a lot better. She does a lot of that, and I’d be a fool if I didn’t listen.