I was tempted to post this picture without any words but I’m afraid that you will not see what I see. Maybe we can have some fun. First you look at it and see what it says to you and then I’ll tell you what it means to me.
I see a piano created by the company that made the first modern baby grand piano. The ivory-plated keys are stained and there are scratches in the wood finish. Strike a key and you hear the dissonance of a fine antique abused and in disrepair. This is a classic instrument, an antique, a rare and precious gem. It is on display merely because it looks old and provides atmosphere.
Upon this old warhorse is a book of guitar tabs. There is nothing in that book that is remotely relevant to this once magnificent beast. It is a book that shows an incompetent buffoon where to put his fingers on his plastic and nylon toy before awkwardly raking his pick. Out with the precision tool a craftsman can wield to make men dance and women swoon and make it a music stand for the common incompetent hack.
Eminence was left to die an ignoble death. A prop for fools. A place to hang garland so the gauche can celebrate as the grand is forgotten.
An era has ended. A fine instrument has been discarded, buried in an unmarked grave.