The Black Strat

or, What makes something worth something?

If you have any interest in guitars, you’ve probably heard about the record- breaking auction sale of David Gilmore’s vintage 1969 black Strat, called reverentially The Black Strat, which he played on Pink Floyd's “The Dark Side Of The Moon,” “Wish You Were Here,” “Animals” and “The Wall.” Not a Pink Floyd fan myself - What!? you say - yep, sorry. Too slow and druggy for me, but… their fans are legion. And the guitar that played on Comfortably Numb has been sold at auction for… take a breath… $14.5 million dollars.

Now, if I were David Gilmore, I might have had two Black Strats that I used on all the records, one less than others, so he could keep the real The Black Strat in his guitar collection unbeknownst to the world, sell the lesser The Black Strat and still have his payday, but he couldn’t have foreseen the insanity of materialism in the 21st century. So now, an undisclosed buyer somewhere has the bragging rights to show The Black Strat to his millionaire friends, who go “eww and ahh.”

Now, all of this begs the larger question. How is this guitar, worth maybe $5000 or so in the guitar market if it wasn’t Gilmore’s, actually worth $14.5 million? What happens when you look at it? Do you transport to the recording studio when Gilmore played the Comfortably Numb solo? And if you did, wouldn’t you have had those same reveries if The Black Strat was the lesser The Black Strat, and you didn’t know it? When you touch it, do you see God? Same principle applies. There is nothing inherently so valuable in the guitar itself. Sure, it plays good, but not $14.5 million’s worth.

I’ve never been a collector, so I don’t get it. I’m on the side of the Tibetan Monks who spend months making a magnificent sand mandala, then after a couple of weeks of letting the public see it, sweep it away.

Arrrggghhh! This is what Westerners think. How could you do that?! Destroy such incredible art, so painstakingly created? But the sweeping away is the whole point. Beauty, awakenings, the joys and struggles of life, represented in the mandala, are all transient. Whoosh, they’re gone.

But if you’re the guy who owns The Black Strat, you’ve got it under wraps. Behind glass. In your personal museum. It’s not like it’s the Mona Lisa, something intrinsically beautiful. It’s a ‘69 Strat. It’s even scratched up. There’s thousands out there that look just about like it.

Did David Gilmore’s spirit enter it? Is it a genuine talisman? Does it secretly vibrate endlessly within to the songs of Pink Floyd? Touch it and see.

You’re call, not mine. What’s it really worth? What’s your opinion on it? Is the metaphysical really at work here? Or is it just super cool?

Don’t ask me. Like I said, I don’t even like Pink Floyd.