Sunday, June 08, 2008

The Accordion Incident


It’s Sunday, over a week past the opening of the “Sex in the City” movie, and I still haven’t seen it yet. I don’t know what sort of cruel joke I’m playing on myself but I’m pretty sure it can’t go on much longer.

Anyway, it is pretty hot outside and- not unlike the “Sex in the City” movie- people just won’t stop talking about it, including me. I have air conditioning in my apartment but it’s really only effective if you press your body directly against it, which makes it difficult to sleep among other things. Yesterday (in this crazy heat), I happened upon a street fair (it was actually across the street from my apartment so it didn’t really take much happening upon- I pretty much just had to look across the street), where I spotted an old accordion on sale for $120. I’ve been wanting an accordion since about the mid-90’s, so I was pretty excited about it. Still, I decided to play it close to the vest and acted not all that interested in it to the guys who were selling it. My plan was to return later and try to snatch up the accordion just as the guys who were selling it were packing things up for the day.

And it almost worked.

At around six o’clock yesterday, after a seriously killer workout at the gym, I swung by the street fair again. And- just as I had planned it- there was pretty much no one still there except for the guys I saw trying to sell the accordion a few hours earlier. There they were packing up their junk in the slowly setting sun. It was exactly as I had imagined it. I’d walk up just as they were gonna load up the last of their stuff into the truck (including the accordion) and I’d be all like “Hold up a second- maybe I can save you the trouble of loading that accordion back into the truck. Does....$40 do anything for you?” And then they’d be all like “$40? Hell, we’d probably pay you at this point for taking it off our hands! It’s yours!” The only problem was when I finally got up to the table there was no accordion in sight.

“Where the fuck is the accordion?,” I sort of asked.

“Oh, we sold it. Of course we sold it! You thought we wouldn’t be able to sell that beautiful accordion? Fuck you!,” one of the accordion-selling guys said something along the lines of back to me. “We sold it to a musician too! He could really play it,” he added as if to suggest that I wouldn’t know what to do with an accordion if it punched me in the nuts.

“I’m a musician too,” I whimpered, my $40 accordion dreams shattering before me.

“Oh,” he replied before getting back to packing up his boxes and stuff.

Now I sit here, accordionless, wondering what went wrong. And who is this fucking musician guy who snatched up my accordion while I was off building up my soon-to-be accordion-wearing shoulders at the gym? Anyway, I guess the moral of the story is if you see a reasonably priced accordion for sale on the street you should totally buy it before some other fucker does and you are left to face your sad, accordionless existence head on. Damn.

Of course now I still have accordions on the brain and figure I have to go out and buy one or something. I can’t wait to get in on some of that hardcore banging that undoubtedly comes as a result of owning an accordion and (most likely) sort of being able to play it a little bit. It’s going to be pretty awesome. I’ll keep you posted.

Dave Hill

1 Comments:

Anonymous Eardley said...

You and I are kindred spirits and there's nothing you can do about it. I too had a hankering for an accordion my whole life (I only wanted a piano and a dog more than an accordion but wasn't allowed either). My Dad had a piano accordion that I wasn't allowed to play as it was delicate and he's completely fixated on the "nana's broken ukulele of 1986" incident that I can't even remember (and I think he shouldn't have left the fucking thing in reach of childers in the playroom if you want to know the truth). Back in 2003 I was a vocalist in a folk duo (I was telling musical lies though as I am clearly a rock singer with sentimental tendencies and have no business with a sea shanty) and I wanted an on stage accessory. You and I know what Hobgoblin charge for an accordion, you're talking £400 min, but I kept checking websites for something inside my budget. Then my boyfriend of the time came up with the only good idea he ever had (including moving in with me): putting an ad in the local rag saying I wanted an accordion and was willing to pay £20! That was a long shot but I got a call on the day of publication, someone who had one they couldn't wait to get rid of, taking up space in the loft, so I leapt in my car and drove into mid-Wales to slip into the harness and try pushing a couple of buttons. She's a real beauty in iridescent green and soon afterwards I bought a second hand drum machine to match. I don't play them that much but I can bash out "L'amour est bleu" and we sure do make a great team. My confidence soars when I'm wearing my accordion. And what's £20 in America? $40 or summat? Ha ha, in your face.

5:24 PM  

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