I’ve always been a gearhead when it comes to guitars, amps, and pedals, just like some people are with cars. For a long time, I thought owning a pristine, mint-condition instrument was enough. Somewhere along the way, I picked up a 2015 Gibson Firebird, and, frankly, I bought it for all the wrong reasons.
It looked gorgeous, absolutely mint. The kind of guitar you want to hang on a wall as a showpiece, to admire, and let collect dust. But here’s the thing: guitars, like any tool meant for expression, need to be played.
I didn’t buy it to play it. I bought it because I thought it would be cool to own a piece of guitar history. A classic Gibson, complete with matching sound and vibe. It felt like the kind of guitar I should have in my collection. But over time, I realized that it wasn’t a collection piece, it was a forgotten investment gathering dust.
Sitting Idle
I barely touched it. The Firebird hung on my wall, untouched. Sure, I’d glance at it occasionally, marveling at its sleek lines and vintage-inspired look. Picking it up is like holding a piece of history. The tone is clear, articulate, and sharp enough to cut through a room. This guitar doesn’t just play notes; it tells stories of rock clubs, late-night jam sessions, and decades of musical heritage.
But the truth? It was just there for show. I wasn’t playing it, and I didn’t enjoy it the way I should. The neck felt off to me, and neither the neck nor the bridge mini-humbuckers sparked joy. I know, I know, sacrilege, but the mini-humbuckers just didn’t do it for me.
Yes, they have a unique snap and vintage clarity. They’re beloved by many for the tone they bring to the Firebird, and for the right style of music, they shine. But they’ve never matched the broad appeal of full-size humbuckers, and I’m a fan of those bigger, more versatile pickups. That’s part of why my Firebird stayed on the wall: it simply didn’t bring me joy.
I barely touched it.
The Firebird hung on my wall, untouched.
The Things The Bring Us Joy
When I really stopped to think about it, the guitars that do bring me joy are the ones I actually play. My 2020 PRS Custom 24-08 Ten Top, for example, has been my main squeeze since I bought it. It has scratches, dings, and signs of wear, and that’s exactly the point. It’s a well-loved tool, a guitar that’s been used, tested, and played to its fullest. When I reach for a guitar, and plug into my Hiwatt – nine times out of ten, it’s the PRS.
Enter My PRS 24-08
The PRS is versatile, a modern chameleon capable of handling any style, from jazz to metal, with ease. Its craftsmanship, aesthetics, and responsiveness make it a guitar you can grow with for years, one that inspires creativity just by existing. The Firebird, by contrast, is character incarnate. It’s less about versatility and more about identity. Blues, classic rock, funky riffs, they all feel at home on it.
Choosing between the PRS Custom 24-08 and the Gibson Firebird isn’t just about notes or frets, it’s about connection. The PRS offers flawless playability and modern versatility, while the Firebird carries decades of rock-and-roll history in every bend and chord. Both guitars have their own voice, their own soul. The one you pick will shape not just your sound, but the story you tell every time you play. And maybe, just maybe, it will inspire riffs, songs, and moments you never saw coming.
Takeaway
At the end of the day, guitars need to be played. If you’re not playing them, what’s the point? Maybe you buy one because you think it will be valuable, or because it’s iconic. But for me, the real value of a guitar lies in the music it makes, not just how it looks on a wall.
So, there it is: I sold my Firebird. I owned an icon and let it go. I made some money, sure, but it wasn’t really about that. It was about realizing that the instruments I truly care about are the ones I use. Every scratch and ding on my PRS feels like a victory, a sign that it’s been loved, played, and used to its fullest potential. And I’m perfectly okay with that.