The day I bought a Fender Jaguar with my 100,000 yen stimulus check, I was completely Kurt Cobain.
I got all the pedals, too. DS-1, DS-2, Sansamp Classic, Small Clone. I bought the green cardigan. I wore the ripped jeans. I stood in front of the mirror and was pretty satisfied.
Six months later, I put it all on Mercari.
This is the story of how I failed spectacularly by believing that "buying your favorite guitarist's gear will give you the best sound." For those of you who are collecting your dream gear or are about to, I want you to learn from my mistakes.
I Wanted to Be Kurt Cobain
It all started with Nirvana.
I still remember the shock of hearing "Smells Like Teen Spirit" for the first time ten years ago. That raw guitar riff, the distortion that sounded like it was about to break, and the guitar solo shimmering with the Small Clone. I thought, "I want to make that sound myself."
No, to be honest, it wasn't "I want to make that sound." It was "I wanted to be Kurt Cobain."
At the time, I was playing guitar while working at a food factory. I had a wife and child, so I couldn't spend money recklessly. But it was right when the 100,000 yen special fixed-sum stimulus check was being distributed.
A Fender MIJ Traditional 60s Jaguar. At the time, it was exactly 100,000 yen.
Actually, I wanted the Kurt Cobain signature Jaguar—the one with humbuckers that produces Kurt's thick sound. But it was about 50,000 yen more expensive. For a family man, a 50,000 yen difference is huge.
I told myself, "A Jaguar is a Jaguar, even if it's the standard model," and dumped the entire stimulus check into it.
The Runaway Train of Completionism
Once I had the Jaguar, my brakes completely failed.
I bought every pedal Kurt Cobain used. The BOSS DS-1—the heart of the Kurt sound. The BOSS DS-2—the one he bought to replace the DS-1 when it broke during a tour. The Tech 21 Sansamp Classic. The Electro-Harmonix Small Clone.
When I plugged in the Small Clone and played the solo to "Smells Like Teen Spirit," I was truly moved. That "shimmer" was coming out of my own amp. My fingers trembled.
"I did it. Now I have the Kurt Cobain sound."
When I met my guitar mentor, H-san (a veteran guitarist and former band member), he called me out immediately.
"LOL, you're literally Kurt! You're really into it, aren't you?"
He was talking about my fashion. The green cardigan and ripped jeans. I wasn't just picking gear; I was cosplaying Kurt Cobain.
Looking back, it wasn't "gear selection." It was a costume.
Oasis Broke Everything
The turning point was Oasis.
While listening to Nirvana, my interest shifted to Britpop from the same era. The arpeggios of "Wonderwall," the chord progression of "Don't Look Back in Anger." Noel Gallagher's guitar sound was the polar opposite of Kurt Cobain's.
The moment I thought, "I want to make the Oasis sound," all the gear in front of me became the enemy.
The Jaguar's single-coil pickups were a poor match for Oasis's thick, round clean tones. Even if I turned off the DS-1, the DS-2, or removed the Sansamp, no matter what I did, it only sounded like Kurt Cobain.
Of course it did. I had gathered everything specifically to produce Kurt Cobain's sound.
You can't bake pancakes in a takoyaki maker.
That was the first time I realized: "Collecting specialized gear" means "throwing away every other sound."
The "Whatever, I'm Done" Total Liquidation
In the end, I sold everything.
The Jaguar. The DS-1. The DS-2. The Sansamp Classic. The Small Clone. I didn't put the green cardigan on Mercari, but I don't wear it anymore.
It was fun while I was collecting it. The moment I reproduced that solo's shimmer with the Small Clone was truly enjoyable.
But the emptiness when I cooled off was about three times as strong as the fun.
"Whatever, I'm done."
With those words, my Kurt Cobain era ended.
The funny thing is that Kurt Cobain himself used cheap guitars without a second thought. He loved the Univox Hi-Flier, a very cheaply made guitar, from his early days. Kurt's sound didn't come from the gear; it came from his playing style, his voice, and his impulse.
I collected "Kurt's gear," but I didn't get "Kurt's sound." Naturally. Kurt is Kurt, and I am me.
How I Didn't Repeat the Same Mistake
When I got into Oasis, I didn't do one thing.
I didn't collect Oasis's gear.
I checked out the Epiphone Riviera (Noel's staple guitar), and it's not like I didn't want it. But I learned from the Kurt Cobain swamp. "If my tastes change again, it'll all be a waste."
Instead, I thought:
"Is there a guitar that can play Nirvana, Oasis, GLAY, BOOWY, funk, and game music?"
The answer was surprisingly simple.
A Stratocaster and a Les Paul. With these two, you can play almost anything. From cleans to scratching with the Strat's single coils, and from thick distortion to jazz with the Les Paul's humbuckers.
I threw away the takoyaki maker and bought a hot plate.
A 10,000 Yen Guitar Was Enough
Once I decided to go for "versatility," my next choice was the PLAYTECH ST250.
10,000 yen.
To be precise, it was a little over 10,000 yen including tax at Sound House. Considering the Fender Jaguar was 100,000 yen, it was a tenth of the price.
I ordered it with the mindset of "it's okay if it's a failure." When it arrived, I opened it, played it, and laughed.
It works perfectly fine.
The finish is beautiful. The neck is properly treated. No sharp frets. The sound is different from a 100,000 yen Jaguar, of course, but with the amp models and effects on my THR10II, I can make "that kind of sound" as much as I want.
If someone tries to pull guitar elitism on me, I'll lose every time. They might scoff, "Oh, a PLAYTECH..."
But for playing alone, it's no problem.
I bought one more, an Epiphone Les Paul Standard EB, on Mercari because I wanted that thick Les Paul distortion. I got that for a good price, too.
Even combined, I completed a "two-guitar system for all genres" for less than half of what I spent during my Kurt Cobain era.
Imagine Yourself Six Months from Now Before Buying
Here are three things I learned from the Kurt Cobain swamp.
- Choose Versatility Over Specialization
Buy a hot plate, not a takoyaki maker. Gear that can only be used for one thing becomes trash the moment you get tired of that thing. With a Strat and a Les Paul, you can cook almost any dish.
- Separate "Want" from "Need"
It's true that I wanted Kurt Cobain's Jaguar. But if you ask if I "needed" it, the answer is no. I could buy it because I had the 100,000 yen stimulus, but if I had used that money for one versatile guitar and an amp, I would have enjoyed it much longer.
- Can You Imagine Yourself Using This Gear Six Months from Now?
This is the most important part. If I had asked myself, "Will I still be playing Nirvana in six months?" before buying Kurt's gear, I probably wouldn't have bought it. Musical tastes change. Favorite bands change. Just thinking "Can I still use this then?" before buying will drastically reduce wasteful spending.
Because a Guitar is a "Lifelong Friend"
After all my failures, the conclusion I've reached is that "whether it's fun or not is everything."
It's not fun because it's expensive gear. It's not fun because it's the same gear as your favorite guitarist. It's most fun when a guitar fits your hands, can be picked up quickly when you want to play, and can play any song "well enough."
I think of the guitar as a lifelong friend.
It's not awkward even if the silence continues. You can reach out whenever you feel like it. A relationship without strain. For that kind of friend, brand and price don't matter.
If you're about to buy all the gear of your favorite guitarist right now, please stop for a moment.
"Will you still be listening to that music in six months?" "Can that gear be used for other songs?" "Wouldn't a hot plate work instead of a takoyaki maker?"
Please, learn from my mistakes.
