Matt, you don’t know what you’re missing.

It was mesmerizing. I'd calmly sit, transfixed by his hand movement coordinated with the warm sound of fingerpicks and the squeak of fret slides. My gawking presence didn't seem to bother my big brother too much. Rather, every few songs, he'd offer me an opportunity to try it for myself. I'd sheepishly decline. The instrument was a bit intimidating. "Matt, … Continue reading Matt, you don’t know what you’re missing.

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