The Chicago Music Exchange

Walking in, I see a panorama of guitars hanging on the wall. Fenders, Gretch’s, Gibson’s, Martins and Taylors in a glass enclosed acoustic room, Warmouth’s, and so many more, all hanging in rows of six or seven vertical, are gleaming at me with pride. In the center of this huge circle of the world’s finest instruments is a center section divided into four rooms, all small and soundproofed and cozy. Around the back I see quite a few Fender guitars, but what really attracts me before any Telecaster is the carefully arranged, treasured trinity of guitars: three vintage Les Paul Gold tops. Immediately I am captivated by their splendor, their majesty, the reflection in the lacquer faded, the pale rosewood fret board that has seen many more moons than so many of us guitarists. A tear rolls down my trembling cheek, and one of the kindest people walks up behind me and utters the words I was hoping to hear in the back of my mind: “Wanna play one?”