Rondalin

This Fender mandolin means a great deal to me. It was a gift from my Uncle Ronnie, who's importance in my life I couldn't begin to put in words. I can put it in music though, and I think he'd prefer that anyway. I've named it Rondalin, which I think is perfect because it's obviously named after Ronnie, but my mothers name, being Rhonda is implied in the spoken name. It I don't recall exactly when Ronnie purchased it but I'm almost certain I was living in Kansas City and working on S no S at the time.
I was completely impressed with how quickly he seemed to grasp it. It seemed like he already knew what he was doing with it the first time I saw it. It was about the time that I was working on the last S no S record "May April", and that album had become a lot about real instruments and other people playing on it. It made perfect sense that Ronnie would play on the record, and since it was already a little folkie it made sense to have him play mandolin on it as well. This very mandolin is on the songs: "Timiner", "Lushing" and "A Vague Return". My favorite moment of the whole album is the part at the very end of "A Vague Return", you hear Ronnie talking, he says: "I gotta get that note to..." then you hear him play the riff with emphasis on the note in question. I love that part. We recorded that part when it was very late at night, we were both probably a little to drunk to be recording, Ronnie was leaning against what used to be the north wall of his basement studio, a wall he has since taken out. We were both on the verge of passing out but somehow I got a microphone plugged in and turned on a preamp, I stuck a pair of headphones on him and let him go. For a guy that was barely keeping his eyes open the minute before he let out the last 8 bars of that song like he was making magic, it felt like he was performing open heart surgery on me, in a beautiful way. That song is the last song on the album, and we'd basically made that album together, working together or just bouncing ideas back forth over the internet and that was the last song recorded. Ronnie knew all that material, or had been exposed to all of it during that time, but in listening to what he played I felt completely certain that he had understood that song, that album and what I was saying. It was the first moment that I ever really felt like I'd been able to communicate something like that to another person. Making my own music and telling my own story became instantly worth while in that moment. Knowing that possibility can become reality is essential.

Ronnie gave me this mandolin last year when I traveled back to Kansas to attend my sister's graduation from law school. Once again we were back in his basement, and there had been a bit of drinking. I was wondering around his now expanded and improved studio, taking it all in. Going from instrument to instrument that had been hung on the walls, most of which were old familiar friends. When I got to the Mandolin I pulled it from the wall and plucked on it a bit, Ronnie was watching me and smiling. He asked me then if I wanted it, and of course I said yes! I was already in love with it from the above mentioned session. Then he said what I think is a perfect ending line.

"I've been waiting to give that to you for along time"