The Guitar That Got Away
A tale of obsession, Japan, and a good, good friend
Almost every musician has a story of The One That Got Away — that amazing instrument you never should’ve sold, the one that haunts you forever.
Now, I really get into trading guitars, amps, and pedals — more than most of my musician friends. I just love all the different kinds of things people have created, and I want to try them all.
I’m constantly looking for a good deal, playing something for a few years, selling it for more than I bought it for, and using that money on another fun deal. I’ve traded my way up into some pretty cool guitars and pedals over the years, but there are a few I wish I’d held onto. The biggest regret was this one:
A 2001 Gibson custom-shop Epiphone “John Lee Hooker” 1963 reissue Sheraton II with mini-humbuckers.
Here is the only picture I can find of me playing it, and it is LOW-RES. This is with Caedmon’s Call in 2003, I think at Baylor University during our co-bill tour with Jars of Clay.
I got the guitar in 2001. I had just become friends with my buddy Jim, who at the time worked in Artist Relations at Gibson. One day, he called and told me to come down to the factory — where he gave me this guitar. For free.
It was a pretty awesome day.
Epiphone and Gibson were once rival companies, both considered top-tier makers. John Lennon was known for playing an Epiphone, and George Harrison for his Gibson, for instance. Eventually, Gibson won out and bought Epiphone, turning it into their “budget-friendly” line. Most of us now think of Epiphone as making cheaper, lower-quality guitars — or at least that’s all I knew when I was given that instrument in 2001.
Now at the time, I was the lead singer of a band, the Normals — and very much the rhythm guitar player. I wasn’t a great guitarist. Mark Lockett, the guy who always stood to my right, my best friend since seventh grade, was a freaking unbelievable guitarist. I didn’t need to be good. He was good enough for both of us.
So there I was with this amazing guitar that I didn’t really understand and wasn’t good enough to play. It was an Epiphone, so I figured it wasn’t very good, and didn’t use it much.
Fast-forward a couple of years: I had bluffed my way into the gig with Caedmon’s as their lead guitar player. I started getting better, but for some reason, I still didn’t play this guitar much — though I was starting to notice that every time I did, it was perfectly in tune, sounded great, and was really fun to play. But it was still an Epiphone, so it couldn’t be that good, right?
Then we found out we were expecting our first daughter. We didn’t have enough money — because we never had enough money. I panicked and put the guitar on eBay.
It sold for a lot more than I expected.
But it was an Epiphone…???
That’s when I started to realize I had made a mistake.
So I started doing some homework. And it turns out there was a reason that guitar played and sounded so great.
There’s a legendary factory in Japan known for its incredible guitars. It turns out that Epiphones from that factory in the ’90s are often considered better than their Gibson counterparts. (I stumbled into another Sheraton from that factory a few years ago for $400, and it is stunning.)
That factory made special parts for this custom reissue, then sent them to the Gibson custom shop, where the guitar was assembled by hand. Fewer than 2,000 were made — and maybe only 100 or so were made in this exact color and configuration.
For the next 20 years — I kid you not, 20 years — I looked for another one. I’ve Googled. I’ve searched eBay and Reverb. I’ve gone to used shops and even reached out to Gibson.
I haven’t even been able to find a photograph of this specific model of guitar. The only proof I’ve had that this exact configuration exists were the few photos on my laptop.
When guitar players sit around telling stories of the one that got away, I talk about this guitar. Friends have sent me links saying, “Is this it?” It’s never it.
Leslie Jordan has a Sheraton in the same color. It’s lovely, though nothing like this one. I told her the story, and a few months later, she sent me some links to a guitar on sale. “I think I found it!” Nope. Thanks for trying, though. She’s the best.
Meanwhile, I did end up with that other Epiphone from my neighbor, which really is fantastic. It’s nowhere near the same vibe, even though it’s technically the same type of guitar. It probably weighs a third as much and has different pickups. It’s kind of dirty-sounding and a little dark — super cool, and I love playing it. When I toured with Matt Maher last year, it was my main guitar, and I had a blast with it.
(I play that Sheraton on this song, which I do think sounds pretty ridiculous…)
On the hunt now for this elusive hollow-body guitar, I’ve also spent the last 20 years trading my way up through Gretsch models. I started with one I got for, I think, like $285. I’ve bought and sold a few over the years — I’m pretty sure everyone I’ve sold them to is on the mailing list that gets this Substack. Ha! They’ve all been awesome because Gretsch makes fantastic instruments.
About 15 months ago on Andrew Peterson’s Christmas tour, I played my friend Adam’s Gretsch Broadkaster and realized that was what I’d been wanting my Gretsch to be all along. I literally took pictures of my current guitar that day, put them on Instagram, and sold it within a couple of hours. Now my Gretsch Broadkaster is probably one I’ll have until I die. It’s a wonderful guitar.
But it’s still not that Epiphone that haunts my dreams.
Which brings us to last month.
A couple of days before my birthday in February, a good friend of mine texted me: “Is this the magic one?”
Guys. He found it.
On eBay.
In Japan.
And it was not cheap.
Like, at all.
I freaked out.
“Are you going to buy it?” he asked.
“I have to send two kids to college. My guitar buying days are on hold for a while!” I replied. Oh well.
I couldn’t buy it, but it was so fun to see it again. I kept that tab open on my laptop for the next few weeks. And I looked at it every day.
Japan, man… dang…
Then, a few days after my birthday, I was over at that same friend’s house catching up. Our birthdays are pretty close, and we like to give each other fun little gifts sometimes.
Actually, the truth is — I give him a little gift on his birthday, and he gives me, and everyone else around him, things all year. He is a quietly, wildly generous friend. I’m not using his name because he wouldn’t want me to. But the people close to me will know exactly who he is, and they’ve all got some story about his extravagant kindness.
This is the kind of friend who pays attention to the little things you say and keeps track. You mention a tool or piece of software that would make your work so much easier and a few days later, there it is. One day the light over your front door that’s been broken for months suddenly works again. Or your mailbox that got hit by a teenager is standing tall and sturdy again.
He flew up to a YoungLife camp he loves and relabelled their entire sound booth so the college volunteers could use it more easily that Summer. He replaced the old rolling chairs in the sound booth, too. Because they were old and not a priority and nobody else even noticed how uncomfortable they were. Nobody noticed how hard it was to try to run sound when nothing is labelled correctly and you’ve never even done it before in the first place. He noticed. And he did what he could with the time and resources he had to make it better. Nobody asked him to, and almost nobody else was aware of it. New college kids just walked in, sat in comfortable chairs, and were immediately able to make the mics turn on and let campers hear the songs and the speaker.
I’m so thankful to have friends like that. They’re the reason I’ve been able to make a lot of the music I’ve made and to take care of my family during the leaner years. Some of you reading this have been that for me, too. I only hope I can be a little of that kind of friend to others.
And yes — as you’ve probably guessed — my birthday present this year came all the way from Japan.
It’s so close to the exact guitar I had 20 years ago that we had to compare the wood grain to be sure it wasn’t the literal same guitar.
It weighs like 900 pounds. It’s still ringing from the chord I played on it three days ago. I haven’t had to tune it in two weeks. It is utterly perfect.
I don’t love it more than my children, but I like it more than some people I’ve met.
There are lots of great instruments out there — but there’s nothing like a great instrument with a great story.
That’s one you don’t let get away.
Twenty-two years ago, I had a good guitar I didn’t know how to play. Twenty-two years later, I hope I can live up to the goodness and kindness that put this beautiful guitar back in my hands.
