“Your ego can’t be fragile. One third won’t like you, one third will, one third will be indifferent,” Fischer says. But such concerns take a back seat to the energy he spends whipping up the opportunities to throw his ego to the wolves and the lambs and the sloths. “It’s a game of promotion. Salesmanship 101—you have a product, you have to be willing show it. I’ve always told myself, ‘If someone can make a million dollars on a pet rock, I can make a little on music.’”

Comments like these may make Fischer seem a bit like an automaton with no respect for his audiences. It’s not like that at all. “You have to understand your function,” he says. “It’s a service.” You want a seasonal tune? You want “Happy Birthday”? “I always try to do requests,” he says. He also anticipates what those requests might be. Though he describes himself as “not really a classical player,” he’s taught himself  Pachelbel’s Canon, and J.S. Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, and many other iconic classical pieces. “If you don’t play ‘em, they’re probably going to ask you,” he says. Maintaining an appropriate volume level is another maxim he’s learned to swear by. “You’re there to add ambiance,” he says. “I noticed that the quieter I got, the more money in tips I made,” he adds, laughing.

Such humility belies Fischer’s stellar musical background and his deep appreciation of virtuosic musicianship.

Born in Baltimore, Fischer absorbed all kinds of music while growing up in the 1960s. “Popular music was very diverse back then,” he says. Hearing the great jazz guitarist Kenny Burrell on the radio one night was one of the many guideposts that sent him on his musical journey. He learned a great deal on his own, but never lacked for fine teachers. He took guitar lessons from a man named Walter Namuth, and later bought a Buddy Rich record for 50 cents and noticed that Namuth had once been Rich’s guitarist and arranger. Fischer met another guitarist named Henry Merchant while gigging with a band as a young man in Baltimore, and later picked up a lot from him about how to develop as a solo player, which is the key, Fischer says, to making a living as a musician. “When you’re in a band, the revenue gets spread around.” Fischer went on to study with big-time guitarists like Chet Atkins, Jim Hall, Leo Kottke, Albert Lee, Tim Reynolds, Emily Remler and Larry Coryel.

Fischer moved to Charlottesville from northern Maryland in 1980. “I was in between jobs and girlfriends,” he says. But the choice wasn’t just haphazard. “I had heard that Charlottesville had a lot of good old-time string music players,” one of several snippets of information that alerted him to the aesthetic possibilities of the area for a person with a passion for playing music. And then there was the physical beauty of the landscape. “This is where you belong,” he thought to himself while on a visit here.

Eventually, he settled into his life as a superb regional performer, having decided not to shoot for a recording career. Waxing philosophical about his chosen path comes easy to him now. “It’s important to have idealism as a concept,” he says, “to let the fantasy be the guiding light. But it’s another thing to make that a reality. You say to yourself, ‘O.K., fine, I have to compromise.’”

All this has given him a fine-tuned perspective on the discrepancy between media popularity and genuine talent. “When I hear people talk about Jimi Hendrix,” he says, “I want to say, ‘Yeah, he did some interesting things, but have you heard Les Paul?!’” There’s no shortage of other examples to rant about. Fischer’s flabbergasted by the dreck Kevin Eubanks has to deliver as the leader of “The Tonight Show” band, compared to what he can present to smaller audiences. “He’s incredible!” Fischer says.

Fischer is the proud possessor of countless stories about his life as a working musician in the area. There’s the time, for instance, when Mick Jagger stayed at Keswick Hall when Fischer was doing a regular gig there. “He came in with three nice-looking young girls,” Fischer laughs, “sat with his back to me while I played, gave me a nod and left.” And he spins vivid images of how tough and competitive the local music business can be at times. “It’s like sea-gulls on a post at a beach —one pushes one off.”

Though Fischer’s not rich like a Rolling Stone, and though the road—or the beach—can get bumpy, nothing gets in the way of his determination to play music. “I know what the alternative is,” he says, referring to the various regular jobs he’s done, including construction and carpentry. “A guitar is the heaviest tool I want to pick up.”