Once in a while, I fall in love with an instrument. This one's hit me hard, in a soft spot. Heels, over head.
Something about the medium scale combined with the neck core and this bridge springs back with a wicked ferocity. She will reciprocate whatever energy you put into her.
As a guitarist I can play runs and chords with a pick, with the speed and clarity of my native instrument.
Subtle "dirty blonde" burst fades from untouched curly maple into topographical contours of swamp ash. Deliberate distressing signals she's spent more than a few years in jazz clubs and would welcome your touch: "Lines on your face don't bother me..."
You want her? We can share. Drop me an email.