It's important to manage these feelings and share them, so you've made the first step. I'm writing to tell you are not alone, we all feel this way sometimes and we're here for you. The next step is going to be more challenging. You have to win the lottery.
Don't we all have our dream banjo(s)? I my early days, it didn't take much to fill the bill. Then it became a Gibson. Then a Mastertone, any Mastertone, even a fly swatter would do. I scoured every pawn shop I could find in downtown L.A. & not a one. Then discovered that a large percentance of those I was seeing at BG festivals were either cobbled together parts banjos, not Gibson floor sweeps, but mixed breed banjos. Or, what we now refer to as Masterclone's. So my first BG banjo was a custom raised head masterclone. The problem is, since I couldn't afford to pay for it all at once, & this was before credit cards, the internet & PayPal, I would drive across L.A. to Tom Norwood's shop & pay whatever I could, when I could. In doing so, I was able to interact with the builder, talk about bulding techniques, see & choose the woods & other parts, & watch that banjo take shape. The custom neck on the Stelling was a different story. I ordered it, paid for it, & took delivery when it was finished. It's a very nice neck but, that drawn out interaction over time, getting to see it take shape, take a little more off here, can we do this, kind of thing was missing. I doubt I'll ever experience that again. I guess I'll just have to live with what I have.
Yep, and everyone wants (or should want) a prewar flathead Gibson. and every banjo wants to be a prewar flathead gibson when it grows up. just sayin'. Although I find the newer generation just doesn't care.
In the past, a banjoist selected a multidimensional instrument. Earl Scruggs did. Bela Fleck did. Noam Pikelny did. They listened first, then bought. Today, many banjos are monolithic.
Getting a banjo to be a multidimensional instrument is what this site is about. I bought my RB-12 over the internet on this site. To seek a banjo, something must be the driver. My father’s records lured me. Listening to Pike County Breakdown really got me searching. That was one album.
Today, none of my children took interest in banjo despite the many albums and playing of music. I am kind of glad. Not everyone appreciates a banjoist.