Confession of a Lost Soul

All these years I've scorned those who trot the stage with set-neck guitars hanging on their shoulders. For the life of me, I could not see why these errant souls would choose to side with the Devil and be blind to the example of Saint Eric, who he himself had walked the path leading to damnation before finding the light within the divine instrument that is the Fender Stratocaster. Believing myself to be strong in faith, I have never cared to lay eyes upon anything other than a Fender. My weapon of choice against evil was to be the sublime twang of a trusty American Standard Tele.

This was until one dark September evening when the Evil One came to tempt me. With unholy intervention, he caused my third string to break during rehearsal, knowing full well that I had no replacement in my guitar case that faithful night. Having no other choice, I decided to use one of the instruments lying around the room. The Prince of Darkness had made sure that a gold top Epiphone Les Paul – synonymous with abomination – fitted with a pair of P-90's would sit just in front of me, which I picked up unaware of the fate that awaits me.

Oh my brothers, the sound of that guitar burst onto my ears like the Sirens calling Ulysses to his doom. It filled my soul with doubt and bewilderment with sweet tone and heavenly sustain. My knees shook with each beautiful cutting note unleashed by this creation of the Fallen One. I suddenly found myself questioning the one Truth I had known to that day, that in the pantheon of guitars only those bearing the mark of Fender would bring me salvation.

I could not resist the temptation. Having lost all sense of right and wrong, I surrendered to the desire for a set-neck mahogany instrument. I sought high and low for the object of this dubious lust. In my search, the Beast brought me to the premises of a musical instrument retailer in Cologne, offering a large selection of all that which is unholy. Paying no mind to the voice calling from the heavens to keep me on the path of the righteous, I stepped into a demo room with two atrocious, albeit affordable axes, one of which was black as night and bore the name of Gibson Les Paul Special, and the other having a sickly yellow color, named Gibson Les Paul Double Cutaway. The sheer sight of these abominations would have struck me down with sickness any other day, but by that time, my soul was firmly in the grasp of the Devil. The Lord, may his name be blessed, made one last desperate attempt to save me from damnation, inflicting an inexplicable and repugnant buzz on the third string of the black instrument. However, with a perfect factory setup and that same sweet tone which lead me astray, the Double Cutaway finally made me succumb to the powers of Darkness.

Behold the instrument that proved to be my undoing. May thee who still have hope be forewarned of Satan's traitorous ways…