The shop owner, a guy named Silas who looked like he’d been on tour since 1974, walked over. He didn't ask Leo’s budget. He just pointed at a beat-up, Olympic White Stratocaster. "That one sings," Silas said. "But the Telecaster over there? That one fights back. Which kind of player are you?"
For an hour, Leo moved between them. He played riffs he’d practiced on his acoustic, but here they transformed. The offset Jazzmaster made him want to write something weird and atmospheric. The SG made him want to turn the volume to ten and apologize to his neighbors in advance. what electric guitar should i buy
Leo picked up the Strat. The neck felt like an extension of his arm. He plugged into a small tube amp and hit a G-chord. It was clean, glassy, and polite. It felt safe. Then, he swapped it for a heavy, honey-burst Les Paul. The weight surprised him; it sat on his knee like a solid anchor. When he struck a chord, the floorboards vibrated. It was dark, thick, and growling. The shop owner, a guy named Silas who