Beginnings
My name is Javier Maviella. I’ve been playing guitar for all my life. I don’t know anything else but my guitar. From as early as I can remember, a guitar has been in my hands. Now, my guitar is what keeps me on my feet. To be honest, I wouldn’t want it any other way. If my life doesn’t include my guitar, I have no reason to live.
My parents were born in Madrid, Spain, both born in 1944. My father was a promising footballer who played for Real Madrid’s youth team, but he suffered a knee injury when he was 14 years old. Out of fear of being hurt again, he chose to stop playing. My mother got the lucky end of the stick. I say that because her family won the friggin’ lottery. Can you believe that? €346,000,000, roughly $2,200,000 in USD. Her family moved to Miami, Florida in 1959. Funny enough, my father’s father, my grandpa, got a job offer in Miami in the same year. My parents grew up on the same street together and hung out often. Since they were 15, they’ve been together.
Do you want to know something unbelievable? My father, when he turned 18, bought a lottery ticket. And friggin’ won. $187,000,000. My mother AND father both won the lottery. My father, of course, chose not to attend college and instead bought a nice but not over-the-top house and moved my mother in with him. My mother chose not to attend college, too, and four years later, they had me. Dirt rich at 18 and parents at 22, ain’t that crazy. I grew up with no problems. My mother and father loved me more than you could imagine, and I loved them just the same. When I was 7 years old, my parents and I were walking on the street and we saw a homeless man playing a guitar. I found it so interesting, so cool. I found the idea that you can touch strings and create such beautiful noises.
Right then and there, I told my father that I wanted to play guitar. As lucky as I was, he literally took me to a music shop that same day and he let me pick any guitar. The homeless man was playing an acoustic, but on the TV at the music shop, there was a video of a metal band performing, and the guitarist had a different guitar. I asked the worker what type of guitar that was and I found out it was called an electric guitar. I asked him if he sold guitars like that and he pointed to a guitar that was hanging on the wall. At first sight, I was in love. It was red, but the red was different. It was beautiful. I wanted it. I wanted it more than you could ever imagine. My father purchased the guitar along with the most expensive amp they had. When we got home, I played the hell out of it, and I didn’t stop.
