musical thoughts

So for a little over seven years I didn’t even own an instrument (I don’t count the electronic junk I used to drag to gigs with me–I never get it out of the cases).

Since forever I’ve wanted a Yamaha grand piano. There’s a characteristic tone and touch to these that works well with my playing style and fits my conception of a good piano tone. They aren’t exactly cheap, though. My old instrument was a 1937 Methushek (yeah, nobody else has heard of it either). It was pretty serviceable and met my needs for a long time. but now that I have a real job, I can actually afford something nicer (if that ain’t ironic…). And when we built the house we had a sort of formal living room on the plan that we didn’t want, and I claimed it as the “music room” and declared it reserved for my future piano.

And there we were for about a year or so. I was never more than halfhearted about looking for a new instrument. We poured so much money into our horses and facilities, I figured it would be a while before I could put together the cash for an instrument in the class I was looking for (think five figures). But I did browse the ads in the paper every couple weeks, and generally kept my ear to the ground.

Then one weekend there were five Yamaha grands listed. So my wife tore out the appropriate section of the classified ads and left it on the counter. I picked it up the next day. A couple of them were obvious non-starters–one ad wanted $15k for whatever model they had, and the other gave a model numer that I was sure put it above that range (model C7–pretty high end). But the last one listed had no details other than a very reasonable price.

My gut reaction was that this was interesting. The price made it too cheap to interest the high-end customers, but it was out of reach of the low-enders. And having no detail at all about the piano made it even more intriguing. So I called.

I asked the seller what was the size, date of manufacture, model, and case color. Out of those, he could only answer the color, and he got that wrong. (I was pretty sure he didn’t have a mahogany piano.) The idea took shape: “maybe this guy doesn’t really know what he’s got.” So I ask him why he’s selling, and it’s a church music minister who prefers to play on electronics. They wanted to get some money out of the piano that they could invest in some more gear, since it wasn’t getting used. This adds to my suspicion that they don’t know what they are sitting on. I had a figure in mind for what the instrument I wanted would cost. the asking price was about 60% of that number. He did mention that it had a pickup installed, and a humidifier.

So naturally I had to go take a look. Remember, I’m not really in the market. Just that this situation triggered my curiosity. I actually skived off work to go see this. And what it turned out to be was a Yamaha G3, which is a 6′ 1″ grand piano. The case was satin walnut (and in superb shape), and I took the serial number and later determined it to be made in 1967 (just like me).

Now before I even went out, I had a plan. No matter what I found, there was no way I’d even discuss buying it before my tech (who is rare and outstanding) looked it over. Because while I know what I like and have a crude idea of the prices, I’m not in touch with the market. I’d never be able to accurately assess the asking price. So my tech was my ace in the hole, negotiation-wise. When I sold my last piano, most buyers weren’t at all qualified to assess an instrument, and none brought a tech with them.

Of course (you can guess from the title) I liked what I found. A whole lot. This was the piano I wanted, even the case color. Everything my mental dream piano had, this one had, and then some. But I stuck with the plan. I told the seller I was somewhat interested, and I would have my tech come out and look it over, and we’d go from there. Cool. This had been the sanctuary piano until a year or so ago, when they moved it to the choir room. So I knew it had been tuned regularly, and kept in a climate-controlled situation. Perfect.

So I drive off, and dial up my tech, who I haven’t spoken to in a long time. After catching up, he asks me what’s going on, and I say I have a happy situation–I need an appraisal. So he asks what I’m looking at, and the asking price, which I tell him. The immediate response: “Jump on it.” In fact he adds that if I don’t buy it, I have to tell him where it is so he can buy it. His opinion is that the asking price is about 40% of the actual value.

I had figured there was a deal here, but not that kind of deal. I was absolutely correct with my initial impression that the seller did not know what he had. How remarkable. Because of them not getting this instrument appraised, I was going to pretty much steal it.

Well, I went into high gear. I couldn’t reach the seller all day after that, which made me come unglued. But I coordinated having my tech come out the next morning to appraise it and pick it up and move it if there was no serious deal-breaker issue. It took a lot of phone calls and phone mails, but I got the deal done. I was going nuts thinking that the next person to look at it might be a tech and buy it on the spot.

So I gladly paid the asking price (which annoyed my wife, but what are you gonna do?). Thursday morning we picked up that beautiful piano and now it’s mine. It went in the shop for a week getting the hammers filed and a light regulation, plus I got the case touched up. I’m so far ahead on this purchase that I couldn’t possibly say no to spending a few bucks to make it look like it came off the showroom floor.

I need to update this page to show off my other axe, the 1976 Suitcase 73. I bought this from a guitar player locally who had gotten it from a keyboard player 20 years ago when everyone was dumping their Rhodes pianos. It’s not heavily used, and since it’s been stored for 20 years, there aren’t a bunch of jackleg repairs made. In fact it’s all original. The only cosmetic flaws are some rips in the tolex and the letter S broken off the “SeventyThree” insignia. And the electronics are minty mint.

This is a concentric-knob preamp, and a matched 80W suitcase. The action is the plastic hammer with the felt bearing applied to the hammer cam instead of the key pedestal, and it works great, no action issues as purchased. It plays a lot more like the Mark IIs I used to own and play than like a mushy Mark I.

I don’t know a local Rhodes tech, so I’m voicing and cleaning it up myself. Watch the site for work posts on the service.