The RG350DX is a normal sized guitar, just like the other RG's. If the size was any smaller than normal, it would be stated in the description text. It's size is comparable to a Fender Strat in a way. But I would recommend you to stay away from buying this perticular guitar, due to it's rather bad FR system. Mid-priced Ibanez models with FR are often frowned upon due to its FR system.
04.25 2. October His eyes were of a questionable kind as he gazed upon his corpse. As if an outer body experience, he was apparently floating above his obviously decaying carcass. What exactly had happened? And why were rats’ suddenly contemplating whether or not his genitals would make a good appetizer? The answer to these seemingly ridiculous questions struck him like a bullet hitting an already damaged cranium at close quarters.
In what seemed like fifteen minutes ago, he was on his way to replenish his depleting stock of the good ol’ heroin yet again. Under his left arm, he carried his papers of written words for his yet-to-be-published novel. Gerald Woods had aspirations (delusions if you will) of becoming a writer. As of now, he was in between jobs and housing situations, and was residing in a rundown house in the Trenches (slang commonly used for the slums in this city of angels), in good hopes that things would get better. By all means it was a horrid place smelling of fungus, decay and plain old death, but in Gerald’s own words, it was cozy(Gerald Woods was a liar, even in his own mind.)
On the rather sunny day that Gerald was on his way to meet his dealer, he was also going to make a stop visiting his maker on the way. He was making unnecessarily good time to the meeting where merchandise would change hands, anxious to get his ‘fix’, when a stray bullet from Danny Thompson’s wild frenzying hand conveniently struck Gerald’s head straight through his left temple and out his right. As he made his customary dramatic entrance towards the concrete bed that laid before him, his papers blew like waves through the air, only moments later partly covering his corpse.
Danny Thompson’s ever faithful crew of fellow lunatics and thugs took the whole affair somewhat unnoted, and walked rather relaxed over to the body, and dumped it in a nearby alley. This was were it was currently residing, and where Gerald Woods would see himself decaying three days later.
As he watched his body dazed, there came a sudden realization that everything he had done before this moment didn’t matter anymore. He had ceased to be Gerald Woods, and become something greater. His eyes randomly rushed left, and caught a glimpse of a man wearing a gray suit sucking a pipe walking by. A distinguished mustache was all Gerald could characterize the man by, as he walked in a straight line ten meters in front of him.
As quickly as he had awakened he once again dozed off, this time without the help of a bullet, but feelings of traveling kept his consciousness in a tight lease throughout his sleep. As he yet again opened his eyes, he stared at a desert spreading far out into the horizon, seemingly never-ending. Dead, dry and alone, Gerald Woods started walking into his new life, unknowingly followed by a man in a grey suit.
Six hours before a man would shed his last dying scream upon a dark New York night, Inspector Creed would be enjoying a glass of high quality whiskey at his favorite bar. His drinking habits had been increasing in intensity the last couple of years, a life of constant work had caught up with him. As he held the glass containing his whiskey, occupied by two ice cubes, he felt an overwhelming feeling of uselessness, but drowned the thoughts quickly with a hasty sip from the glass. His first glass would be one of many, and he would later retrieve to a dark corner of the bar, falling into a daze, which would later develop into what he assumed was sleep. He awoke several hours later to the yells of the bartender, he couldn’t tell what he was saying, but he estimated that it was closing times. He hit the streets, welcoming it by taking a lone cigarette out of his front-pocket, lighting it, and began walking the dark streets contemplating, as he often would.
As the Inspector slipped into a nightmarish dream, a man would run his final lap through the forests of Central Park. The rhythmic sounds of uncoordinated running footsteps behind him would turn him unable to comprehend the fate that awaited him. As the intensity of the footsteps closed in, he would smell the alcoholic blind violence that awaited just centimeters behind, but death wouldn’t occupy his thoughts. His mind would wander to the events that lead to this horrible conclusion of a man’s life, often referred to as a joke, by his peers. Waylon Hodge had been an ordinary office worker for the Graham & Norton firm for years; a young man of 27, Waylon had been with “G&N” for over nine of them, working his way up the food chain. He was mocked for his earnest ways, and ridiculed for his lacking social skills, not made for the competitive world of business, Waylon lagged when it came to rising through the ranks.
As the years went by Waylon would sink deeper into a depression which would lead him to explore the darker corners of his mind. As Creed reached his home, he felt a terrible itch on the back of his neck, and decided he would check it out in the mirror in his home. His home wasn’t much, located in a district deserted by the general population, occupied by junkies, homeless people and everyone society forgot. It was a district Creed felt right at home in, but also a place he loathed. As he opened the door to his empty apartment reminiscent of how his soul felt, he went into his bathroom, once draped in a sterile white, now colored by years of decay. In the mirror he saw something that frightened him, a rash shaped like a hand covered the better part of his neck, bordering to his shoulder.
The excessive smoking and drinking through the night had gotten the better of him, and proceeded to lie on what he called a bed. He awoke two hours later to the sound of the phone ringing, a brutal manslaughter in Central Park, a nice way to start a morning and a nice way to end a life.
Waylon would resort to stalking his co-workers, his blind rage towards them had been towering the last eight years, and on this, the last year of his life, he would begin stalking his coworkers, with the intent of committing murder, though never committing the deed, he thought this would be the day of his first kill.
His latest “victim” was an alcoholic sales supervisor. Waylon had followed him through the streets of New York, and it had concluded at “The Central Bar Park”. His target disappeared in a black sea of people, and his mind trailed off. By chance his glance was met by the eyes of a depressing looking silhouette. Waylon’s nerves got the better of him, and he retired to the streets, heading towards Central Park.
Inspector Creed reached the crime scene with a bad hangover, though still partly drunk as he had only gotten two hours of horrible sleep. His instincts, however, was as clear as day, and what had happened at Central Park last night, was painfully obvious. The decapitated head in Central Park was an exclamation point to this fact. All of this would’ve turned the stomach of a lesser man, but Creed was used to these kinds of surroundings, and this particular one, was awfully familiar to him. Because he had a nightmare last night, a devastating real nightmare.
When I suddenly, out of the blue manage to play something/or some technique I've been practicing for some time. But I'm always demotivated by my playing, and by my lead guitarist(whos a ****ing prodigy), but that keeps me motivated to improve on all my fauls, and so far it has helped me very much. Of course, when I'm playing BLS, Pantera or whatever all that's on my mind is **** YEAH!
Unless I'm jamming, I always listen a CD all the way through, cause I only buy CD's I love, therefore, I can listen to my whole collection all the way through, granted I only have 33 CDs. My top list is:
Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here Pink Floyd - Animals Alice in Chains - Unplugged Black Sabbath - Master of Reality Bob Marley - Legend Sigur Ros - ( ) Pantera - Far Beyond Driven Pantera - Vulgar Display of Power Kyuss - Welcome to Sky Valley Zakk Wylde - Book of Shadows Down - Over the Under
This is my RG321MH! It's great, solid neck, great body and I replaced the stock pups with EMG 81/85 which is the best thing I could've ever done! And it got me a long way to the sound I eventually want to reach(next and final step is a nice solid half stack). Only minus about this RG is that the finish is veeeeery thin, so it chips easily, but I don't really give a **** about looks, as long as it plays good, so it's all gooooood!
New strings yes! I stretched them good out, after I put them on, and then i strechted some more, and some more, and then I pinched harmoniced the hell outta them, and they still sounded out of tune after I tuned them, but now it seems that it's okay, but thanks for responding so quickly I was worried for a couple of hours, but it's good to know my baby is okay!
Recently, I've been allen wrenching my saddles to raise the action on my ibanez, but now it seems that my E string is out of tune(my low E), this MAY be because of the fact that I accidentaly bought 09 strings and I'm playing in D standard, but it also seems out of tune in E Heelp, whats wrong? =( Is saddle working supposed to **** up tunings even when you've tuned the guitar afterwards?
I started playing by going to a guitar teacher, before that I knew the basic chords, but nothing else. He eventually taught me power chords, loads of theory, the magic of the blues scale and I became pretty fluent in blues. As I was going to my teacher, I also started loving metal, so on my spare time I started learning those kinds of songs and techniques(Pinch Harmonics, tapping, sweep picking). He learned me a bunch of scales, and I started digging triplets.
Since then I've struggled to break free of the blues spirit, and I've managed to become more of a metal solo dude now, and over the past six months, I've become heavy on riffing too. Spending much practice on perfecting down picking, gallops and such. Early on my goal was to be able to riff like dimebag and solo like Zakk Wylde, I've managed to get closer to my goals over the past two(soon to be three) years.
My teacher is more of a folk player, so I learned metal by my self, but he gave me the abillity to do so. Right now I'm learning lots of jazz and bossa nova with him, which has been really enjoyable, and has really helped me open my mind both in my playing and in my musical taste.
So right now I'm in a place with music and guitar of which I'm very fond of, but each day I'm still as hellbent on improving myself as I was when I first started. This is what I'm going to do 'till I die, this is my ****ing destiny
If you can't play that song correctly, practice it slowly with a metronome!! If you want to make it with guitar, it will help you if you make long term goals, this will help motivation, and you'll be practicing more efficient. I suggest learning techniques like proper vibrato, two hand tapping, pinch harmonics etc. slowly with a metronome, and increasing speed.
Joining a band can do some good things for your playing, it will help your time, and if you're playing with a second guitarist(if he's good), he can improve your playing tons.
Check out zakk wylde, several lessons on youtube. But don't use "lots of vibrato", do one wide to get those mean sounding squeals, like Zakk does it !
Edit; And you don't need lots of grain, that'll just muddy up the squeal, I can feel me doing a Pinch without any gain, you recognize the sound, but I usually have the volume nob on my guitar about 65% up.
Dime was tuned to what he called a "**** hair flat", on the cowboys album he's tuned a **** hair flat of E, on vulgar it's mostly both D and E, Far Beyond mostly D, but some E. Trendkill and Steel are tuned borderlining to C.
We started playing in August 2007. We're only three people in the band right now, so we're currently searching the scene for a vocalist and a bassplayer, but we still keep on rocking and making new songs! We're heavily influenced by Pantera and Metallica, but we also take in other kinds of music too.
Disfigurement needs a bassist and a vocalist, we're currently living in the city of Arendal, Norway, and we're inspired by Metallica, Pantera and Rebel Meets Rebel. We all listen to a lot of different music, so we take a lot of inspiration of things to create a original heavy sound!