When I was twelve years old I discovered the guitar. My life changed. Suddenly, I heard voices, tones, places I'd only dreamt of, and places I'd never imagined. You've heard this story before.

What usually gets lost in the pages of the story is the translation of instance; that initial breaking point. The moment that things seem slightly different. This impact feels familiar, yet is somehow wholly, and profoundly, new. Kind of like a boxer getting hit with a knockout punch. As his mind drifts from his body, he is experiencing a separate plane of conscience, yet it is feeling that is noticed; recognizable. The guitar simply felt right, in every literal and metaphorical meaning that word holds.

And in my world; a world of squeals, bends, hammer-ons, pull-offs, inflections, boogie and groove, there was one cut above the rest: Satriani. To the slighty-before-teenage me, this man truly Surfed with the Alien. He flew the Blue Dream. He was an Extremist, traveling in a Time Machine.

I LOVED Joe Satriani.

For 27 years, Satriani has defied all things you could and should do on the guitar. He shreds to the utmost degree. But this is not what makes him special. Unlike the thrashers, and the speed-maniacs, and the noodlers, and the technique-obsessed bores, Satriani understands that feel and presence carries a tune, more so than the art of shred ever could. You may, after all, respect the technique, however a technique without practical purpose is meaningless. Noodling for noodling's sake is not interesting. Satriani writes songs and plays them with intent; bastions of melody, they are beautiful children. A world of his own creation.

If you're not sold on instrumental "guitar" music, I highly suggest you open your mind and check out Satriani tonight, as he plays University at Buffalo's Center for the Arts (7:30pm, tickets $31-64). I saw him nearly 20 years ago and my mind was blown. I expect nothing less now than I did then. Opening the show is the Steve Morse Band.