Re: [Harp-L] Combs!

[Joe and Cass Leone <leone@xxxxxxxx>]

To me, it all comes down to taste. When I was a small child I used my  
'6 year (painted iron) crib' to teeth on.

 Anyone who has worked with metal or wood will attest to the fact  
that it gets into your sinus', taste buds, and pores. Then, after  
working with it, if you don't wash your hands really well (not always  
possible at a construction site), and you break for lunch and go to  
eat your sandwich, you will get the taste from your fingers. Chicken,  
ribs and other finger food will give the same results.

Brass, Alum. (especially), Bronze, SS (for the lesser part), Zinc  
(for the most part), Copper, Tin, Lead, Monel (slight), Pot metal,  
Base metal, White metal, Tungsten, Titanium, and most metals will  
have their own recognizable taste. Working as an electrician, my  
major taste contributor was copper. I know a fantastic chord player  
who gave up the chord (and concentrates now on bass) because he can  
no longer tolerate the taste of brass. Btw, the bass is all blow.

Now wood is a little different. Some are sour, some sweet, some  
bitter, some bland, some contain pitch, some Tannic acid, some  
esthers, some a milky substance, some a sicky substance. Some are  
gritty, some silky, some oily. Fruit woods taste one way, nut woods  
another. The pine families are harder to define, but the sawdust gets  
into your orifactory senses.

Even bakelyte, micarta, bone, horn, or tusk dust will get into your  
smell factory.

My Polish grandfather (yes, I'm 1/4 Polish), worked in the mines. He  
had a breathing problem. He had a ventilator that made water vapor/ 
steam? He would put a drop of Eucalyptus  and a drop of Camphor oil  
into the water supply. I tried it out once. It was pretty cool. Since  
then, I like to seal my wood combs with 50/50 Vicks Vapo Rub and  
mineral oil.

Plastic does NOTHING. It doesn't turn me on. I happen to like wood  
for my diatonics and metal for my chromatics. To me, plastic is like  
the proverbial piece of steak that has been telleported from one  
transporter boot to another. It just doesn't feel right. It fake.  
It's like my left arm. " It ain't right, and it ain't fair ".

smo-joe  (living in 1908)