Chapter 55

“I know I have to play,” Sally said, “What’s the difference between flat wound strings and what’s on the guitar?”

“All this depends on the amplifier settings, the size or number of the speakers, the type of wood in the neck, the hardness of the wood in the body, the pickups, the wire size in the pickups ... how many times the copper pickup wire is wound around the poles ... even the kind of magnets in the pickups.” I said. “But mostly, In a band setting the sound depends on you.

“If you believe the bass is the bottom of the band, setting the rhythm of the song, the bass player needs deep driving bass,” I said, “You want a different sound, if you believe the bass is in competition with the lead instrument.

“Round wound strings add brightness to the notes. The ridges give the string some of its brightness. Bright equates with treble.

“Flatwound strings are wrapped with a ribbon rather than a wire. Since a ribbon is flat, there aren’t really any ridges - the string feels smooth. Because there are no ridges, finger noise is greatly diminished.

“However, there is more friction as you slide your fingers because your fingers are sliding across the whole string rather than just the ridges. Because they are smoother, flatwounds also gentler on your frets and fretboard. Personally I consider the sound to be more warm, deeper through larger diameter speakers.

“George was a robot. He played the recording. But he used a Fender twin 12 Bassman 50 watt amp.”

“You said in a band setting,” Sally said. “What would make that different?”

“Commercial recording,” I said distastefully. “It’s not a hard and fast rule, but, generally, a band that makes the recording studio is under contract ... and the fine print usually give all control of the sound to the engineer. Drums sound like cardboard boxes. Ride cymbals are sometimes left out. In extreme cases ... an engineer might take several recorded bass runs and combine them into something impossible for the bass player to reproduce. Something he cannot begin to play.

“A band or single artist might be so swayed by the thrill of making it to the bigs that they never consult an attorney. They sign the contract and find out later that they are virtual slaves subject to every whim of a company whose only concern is the bottom line. They meet and greet people they would never have anything to do with if they weren’t under contract.” I explained, “I will not sign a contract unless I am allowed to take that contract to an attorney who has no contact with the recording industry.”

We spent the next couple of days learning to read music ... notes on paper. Fairly soon I could see her fingering her wrist. That was days. Her mom was ignoring her ... even when she came out to the ranch to see what’s what and who is doing it. This house was going to be 259 square feet larger than the home that fell in the creek. Doesn’t sound like much ... but 259 square feet is an extra bed room.

The forms folks came out and set the forms for the basement walls. The re-bar tie folks did their magic and tied the entire basement into a single mass of rebar. Six inch thick walls is the minimum for the neighborhood. We went with 12. The frost is from 26 to 48 inches deep and we were on bedrock ... we were good with three feet to spare. The cement trucks came with six bag concrete. (Six bags of cement per cubic yard.) Vibrated for smooth walls in and out. Once set I insisted on tarring a foot above grade. Slope was less than 2 inches in 40 feet

Once set the floor went on trusses 16 inch spans The walls were 2x8 on 16 inch centers with foam insulation, Tyvek outside and reflective aluminum foil inside. Keep summer heat out ... winter heat in. Coal stoker. Pellet stove fireplace for emergencies. Diesel generator on slab and covered ... just in case.

Tin roof.

The place was in the dry in two weeks.

The contractor said, “You have to keep her away. She keeps making changes.”

“I have money ... keep her happy. Here ... give your foreman a thousand bucks ... five hundred each for the crew.” I passed him a strap.

“You know ... this is just a rent house,” he said.

“Not really ... my bass player vocalist lives here too.”

“Bobby and the Silver Spur?”

“Yup,” I grinned.

“Can I have your autograph?”