This is my lovely, lovely Ibanez 2369B olympic-white electric bass guitar. A
P-J Bass clone from 1976, made in Japan during that golden 'lawsuit' period when everything Matsumoku was absolutely primo; ebonized inlays, supermodel neck, great frets, fat, apocalyptic sound. They have a cult following and that does not surprise me. I don't hate Fender, but many P-Basses are shameless hunks of overpriced glue-smeared doodoo with streaky paint jobs and screechy pups and most of the Japanese lawsuit babies are you know... not. She is the colour of homemade icecream and I love her.
I bought mine at the beginning of the upswing in prices that began in the last ten years or so, meaning she wasn't as cheap as she might have been eighteen months before, but at least I didn't pay what they're retailing for now, which is well out of my (broke joke) price bracket. Compared with Fenders of the same age, they're still a bargain though, and I would encourage anyone to consider these before shelling out the monster dollars for the brand.
She should live in her special case lined with golden muppet fur, but she stands aloof and alluring in the bedroom like someone transfigured for refusing the advances of a god.
I am a crap bassist and this should really be in the hands of someone who can play, I suppose, but I can get through a few Pixies numbers and if that's good enough for Kim, it's good enough for me. If I'm feeling particularly ornery I will hit that shit with a fuzz or a Rat and turn the dial to oh maybe nine, and everything in this little wooden house will judder slowly toward the edge of whatever it is sitting on as though the whole world wants to die holding hands.