This, I believe, is my first #gibsunday post. And what a post it is. Get a cup of tea, make yourself comfortable and brace yourselves, because this is a long emotional rollercoaster of a thing. The guitar pictured deserves to have the whole story told.

First off, growing up on the Isle of Man was incredible, and the amount of music I was surrounded by was staggering. Looking back, I really can’t believe my luck. There are so many wonderful musicians of all genres - from punk to trad - on that small island, and I don’t remember there ever being a shred of ego or elitism. We were all in it together. It was, and I believe it still is, a wonderful community.

There are so many folks in that scene who I still look up to. Most of them became mentors to me - honourable mentions going to Dickie Best, Dave Moore, Steve Courtie (Steve gifted me his Telecaster last year that I now play at every show. One of the most meaningful gifts I have received in my life), Dave McLean, Lenny Conroy, Pete Lumb, Christine Collister, Dave Armstrong, Christy DeHaven, Barry and Val Nelson - among many more. There were local musos and bands who we idolised; Jacoba, Pigs On The Wing, Katie Lawrence, Dave Kilgallon, The Mollag band, Truman Falls… the list is huge!

I’ve been asked so many times if I am self-taught. No one is. All of these people were kind, generous, and took the time to show me anything and everything. It didn’t just take a village - it truly took a whole island.

One such gentleman in the Pantheon of Manx musical heroes is David Lang. Dave has been a fixture of the music scene there since the mid 70s when he came over from ‘the big smoke’ (that’s what we call London 😉). Quiet, humble and an absolute sweetheart of a human being, he is also one of the most tasteful, lyrical and melodic guitar players out there, with a tone and touch to die for. In my mind he has always been synonymous with an old Gibson SG, and his days in the bands Black Mass and Oasis (different one!) are legend back home.

In keeping with his humble and unassuming character, few know about the incredible history he has while he was part of the scene in London during the 60s. Sharing the bill for acts coming up at the time like Cream, Peter Greens Fleetwood Mac, and jamming after hours in the clubs with John Mayall, Alexis Korner and I’m sure many, many more that I’m missing. He tells me “I was just one of 1000’s”. I’ve told him he needs to write a book.

It was after seeing the Paperback Writer promo video and Eric Clapton’s ‘Fool’ SG in the flesh (before the mad paint job - Eric also gifted Dave his personal guitar strap from that guitar one night) that he wanted an SG of his own, and in 1969, along with a little help from his parents, he traded his ‘62 Strat and acquired this absolute beauty... A 1964 Gibson SG Standard in Cherry Red- just like George and Eric’s. From that day on the SG became Dave’s main guitar, his DNA etched into it over decades of playing. Shortly after getting the SG he received a call and became the guitar player for Howlin’ Wolf on a UK run of dates, standing in for Hubert Sumlin…

Last April I was booked to play The Gaiety Theatre back home, and in a mad moment of cheekiness I reached out to Dave to see maybe… just maybe… if I could borrow the SG? There are some new songs (album coming soon!) that really need that vintage humbucking sound. To my total amazement Dave said yes.

I spent the whole week with it, and I couldn’t put it down. I’ve never thought myself much of a Gibson player, though I’ve always loved the sounds other folks could get out of them. A Les Paul always felt uncomfortable to me, and I found big hollow-bodies like 335’s so hard to control. It’s a me problem. This is the first one I had felt at home on. It’s a special guitar- up there with the finest that I’ve had the good fortune to play and I think most (if not all) of that is down to all the love and music Dave has poured into it. The vibe and mojo of the thing is palpable.

After the week was up and it was time to go home, I dropped the guitar back to Dave. He told me “I thought this would be going home with you”. I smiled, but then saw his face. He was being serious. It gets blurry, but the conversation went a bit like this:

Me: “God… Dave. This is one of the most spectacular guitars I’ve played. It is also YOURS. This is something so inseparable from you and your history.”

It was quiet for a second so I nervously continued.

“It feels really weird to say it, because this is your baby, but If one day you felt like you were ready to part ways, I’d love to talk about it”

Dave: “Davy, I’ve been ready for a long time”

Me: “Jesus… ok. Well, I have some friends who collect and who deal in vintage instruments. Would you like me to talk with them and get you a fair price?”

Dave: “There’d be no price”

This is when my heart stopped I think. But I remember saying that I couldn’t take it back with me on this trip and it wouldn’t be long till I was over this side of the Atlantic again and that this was such a huge decision - perhaps we could stay in touch and take our time over it.

We messaged back and forth, and I rang him a little less than a month later with my travel plans and his stance hadn’t changed. It was on this phone call that Dave told me the last time we played together was with my Dad in a local pub - that’s coming up on 10 years ago or more now. He had told Dad that night he intended to pass this guitar on to me one day.

Back on the Isle Of Man we met up for dinner and it was a beautiful evening of stories. I dropped him back at his place, and we walked into his living room. There was the beautiful old case, with his name and former band carefully written on it.

Dave: “I haven’t opened the case since you brought it back from the Gaiety. Let me say goodbye”

He opened it up and stroked the strings. It rang like a bell.

“It’s still in tune.”

He gently lifted it up, gave it a little kiss, put it back in the case, closed it up and handed it to me.

It was unbelievably emotional. We put it in my car and he waved me and his old friend of 55 years off from his front door.

I can’t tell Dave just how much being the next caretaker of this storied guitar means to me. Though obviously the monetary value of a vintage instrument is (very) far from insignificant, it’s not just that that holds the weight and magnitude of his generosity. It’s because it’s his. It will always be his, and it’s because of that it is a treasure to me. He’s one of my heroes and to be trusted by him to play his guitar is a feeling I find indescribable.

Dave . Thank you will never be enough. I promise to look after this wonder just as you have, and to play the absolute snot out of it.

I can’t wait to get out there and play it for you all. Loudly.

Davy.