The Unbearable Tension
the shock of a broken soul
"Suena brutal, Adrián," le dije, mirando mi instrumento sobre la mesa.
Él sonrió, "Sí, pero ahora toca el ajuste fino. Con el cambio de pickups y el tiempo, vamos a darle un poco de tensión al alma para dejar el mástil perfecto y que la acción sea mantequilla."
“It sounds awesome, Adrián,” I said, looking at my instrument on the table.
He smiled, “Yeah, but now it's time for the fine tuning. With the pickup change and the weather, we're going to put a little tension on the soul to make the neck perfect and the action smooth as butter.”
I nodded. The truss rod is that internal metal bar that runs along the neck and allows you to control its curvature. It's the key to making the bass comfortable to play and preventing it from buzzing. Adrian took the Allen key, that small tool that looks so harmless, and inserted it into the adjustment hole. “Always carefully, half a turn, check,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. He began the adjustment. Half a turn. Nothing. “A little more, it's too loose,” he said. He turned it another quarter turn. Then another. My eyes were fixed on his hands and the neck. At that point, the bass wasn't an object; it was an extension of me, my voice on stage. I felt a slight pang of anxiety, like when a doctor is about to give a diagnosis. Suddenly, just as Adrian applied slight pressure to give it one last little turn... CRACK!
Fue un sonido seco, metálico y doloroso. Un ruido breve, pero que resonó en el pequeño taller como un trueno.
Adrián se detuvo de golpe. Se quedó mirando la llave Allen y luego el orificio de ajuste con una expresión de pura incredulidad, con los ojos bien abiertos. Yo sentí un escalofrío helado que me subió por la espalda.
"No... no me digas," balbuceé, acercándome.
Él suspiró y retiró la llave. El alma se había roto. La barra interna había cedido ante la tensión, fracturándose. En ese instante, supe que no era un problema de "un ajuste más"; era un daño mayor. El mástil, y por ende mi bajo, estaba en problemas serios. La sensación de alegría por los nuevos pickups se desvaneció, reemplazada por un nudo en el estómago.
It was a sharp, metallic, painful sound. A brief noise, but one that echoed through the small workshop like thunder. Adrian stopped abruptly. He stared at the Allen key and then at the adjustment hole with an expression of pure disbelief, his eyes wide open. I felt a cold chill run down my spine. “No... don't tell me,” I stammered, moving closer. He sighed and removed the key. The soul had broken. The internal bar had given way under the stress, fracturing. At that moment, I knew it wasn't a matter of “one more adjustment”; it was major damage. The neck, and therefore my bass, was in serious trouble. The feeling of joy over the new pickups vanished, replaced by a knot in my stomach.
Adrián, siempre profesional, me miró y puso una mano en mi hombro. "Lo siento, amigo. A veces pasa en instrumentos más viejos o con almas que ya venían fatigadas. Lo arreglaremos."
Pero en mi mente, solo escuchaba ese cruel y definitivo CRACK. Mi bajo, mi fiel compañero, estaba herido de gravedad, y todo por ese último e inoportuno giro. Ahora tocaría esperar y ver si mi querido instrumento podría recuperarse de esta herida interna.
Adrián, always professional, looked at me and put a hand on my shoulder. “I'm sorry, buddy. Sometimes it happens with older instruments or ones with necks that were already worn out. We'll fix it.”
But in my mind, all I could hear was that cruel and definitive CRACK. My bass, my faithful companion, was seriously injured, and all because of that last, untimely twist. Now I would have to wait and see if my beloved instrument could recover from this internal injury.
Fotos tomadas con mi Honor X6b plus
Gracias por leer, hasta un próximo post
