Month: March 2010

  • John Frusciante

    John Frusciante

    Photo by Neil Zlozower.

    Best known for his work with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, John Frusciante thoroughly enjoys every aspect of making music, and continuously experiments with new and unusual ways to create it. As a teenager, Frusciante became interested in writing and recording his own music. He started making solo albums years ago, and with the luxury of having his own recording studio, Frusciante has combined personal recording techniques developed through experimentation with tricks of the trade learned from celebrated producer Rick Rubin.

    Frusciante recently completed his latest solo disc, The Empyrean – a conceptual album on which he used an assortment of vintage gear. He was happy to explain his creative process for recording tracks and graciously allowed Vintage Guitar an all-access look at many of his favorite guitars. Although he does not consider himself a collector, over the years Frusciante has assembled an impressive arsenal of instruments, favoring pre-CBS Strats as his guitars of choice for use both onstage and in the studio.

    Circa 1961 Gibson SG/Les Paul Custom in Cherry Red finish

    How did writing and recording music for The Empyrean compare to making your previous solo albums?
    The story of the album is hard to translate because it was intentionally written in an abstract way. It was a strange road for me that really started when I did my first recordings as a kid. For years, until I rejoined my band when I was 28, all I had really done as a solo artist was make recordings at home on a four-track. That’s how I made my first three solo records. So when I started recording in a studio, my only experience recording in a studio was with Rick Rubin as producer. I tried to apply that with all I knew when making Shadows Collide With People, my first solo record in a studio. I didn’t like that experience at all; I was being way too much of a perfectionist and trying to make everything sort of adhere to some kind of preconception of perfection.

    From there on, I started making records really quickly, kind of as an exercise where the object was to do it as quickly as possible. I have friends who never spent more than $10,000 on a record, and I was inspired by that. So I started to make records in four or five days between the recording, mixing, and everything. That went really well. Gradually, my friend Josh Klinghoffer and I got really comfortable performing under that kind of pressure. We got really good at doing things in one take.

    A few years ago, I did six records in six months like that. For this one, I had most of the songs written, so [in mixing] we took our time experimenting, doing tripped-out overdubs, and all kinds of treatments. There was no thought in making things perfect, we just wanted them to be we felt in the moment, and capture that energy.

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    Fender Bass VI
    This circa ’61 Fender Precision Bass can be heard on “Dark/Light,” from The Empyrean.

    We recorded very much in the spirit of the others, but rather than trying to mix 12 songs in one day, we mixed songs in two days each and spent a lot of time messing with the sound, and playing the mixing board like an instrument, trying to create atmosphere. I look at music like constructing a building, where you’re creating these artificial spaces. When you’re mixing, you shift from one atmosphere to another. Most of it was recorded on 48 tracks, and there’s a lot of shifting from one scene to another in an instant, where you’re in a different environment and acoustic atmosphere. That was all done with tape edits.

    We weren’t under pressure to do it quickly or stay within a certain economic bracket. We did decide to not spend more than $10,000, and it was recorded over a period of a year – I was on tour and doing other projects, plus I wanted to do things at a relaxed pace. I think we practiced about a month, then spent a month recording and 20 days mixing.

    A lot of it sounds very improvisational.
    I wanted to have more jam sections. I was starting to feel there was too much “song, song, song” on my previous solo albums, though jamming and soloing have always been important parts of me, as a musician. For whatever reason, I hadn’t really gone into them much, other than on my first solo record; I wasn’t into soloing as much as playing melodies. A couple of my albums had long solos, and I wanted to do more of that. Sometimes I’d have a song that was two minutes long and it ended up being five minutes because I put a long solo on it or the original arrangement had long solos built into them that I planned as jams, for shifts in atmosphere. “Central” is a good example because it repeatedly goes from one kind of space to another.

    Was that difficult after taking long breaks?
    Not at all. It didn’t lose anything. I thought it might, and I like working on musical ideas when they’re fresh. When things get interrupted by a tour, it can dilute what you do. But in this case it didn’t because I waited until moments when I was really having fun working on it. So the record adhered to a concept that the music was intended to reflect, and it came together in a way that was more specific and pronounced than I expected. There was an energy motivating things that I found by making sure we worked in the same spirit as the first day of recording. I never experienced that on any record done over a long period of time.

    Early-’60s Rickenbacker 365 Deluxe in Mapleglo finish formerly owned by James Burton with custom engraved tailpiece.

    In the middle of the process, something shifted in me, where I started thinking of music as only the act of doing it, and stopped being concerned with the prospect of making a record. I started just thinking in terms of making music that I would want to hear coming out of my speakers late at night. When people start thinking about putting out a record, there’s a whole egotistical kind of investment in it. Even if you’re an independent artist making small records, when you’re thinking in terms of making a record rather than just making music, you’re denying a huge aspect of the powers of creativity. I think it’s a more wholesome, natural approach. That mindset has worked well for me, made me look back with fondness to when I used to record on my four-track. When I did my first album, it was music for me to listen to late at night with my friends. And when we were mixing this album, that’s totally what it was about. Like I said, I like to create environments, so when you turn on certain music, your room seems like a palace.

    Which are your favorite tracks on this album?
    Each song was very connected with one another in what they were expressing. This album doesn’t seem like a collection of songs. It seems like a singular statement. I think of them all balancing one another.

    If someone was coming over and I was only going to play them four songs, I’d play “Before The Beginning,” “Dark/Light,” “Central,” and “After The Ending” because they are specific points in the album. The music and subject matter of the lyrics arc from a low point to a high point. I wanted the feeling of reaching and then giving up, then reaching again, then giving up, then reaching again. Every time you start reaching, it keeps going to a higher peak. I wanted the music, lyrics, and subject matter to conform to a specific idea. It’s not that I like them more than the other songs, it’s just that I like how well they work. To me, “Before The Beginning” starts in the murky depths of some weird place, and I like how well it does that. Originally, the album was going to start with much more of a bang, but I realized that didn’t fit what I was trying to do in terms of the arc of the theme.

    This early-’60s Fender Stratocaster, Frusciante says, is “…a cool guitar, but it has too much limitation for me. It’s the kind of guitar you can have some fun on, but it’s not really practical.”

    As you described, there are many different atmospheres, and it sounds like there were different setups for each song. What were you using to achieve the sounds?
    As far as guitars and gear, on all my solo recordings in the past, I never used the same rig that I use in the Chili Peppers. In the Chili Peppers, I always have a Marshall Major, Marshall Jubilee, and my old Fender Stratocasters. My main Strat is a sunburst ’62, my second favorite is a sunburst ’57 (Ed. Note: appointments suggest the Strat is actually a ’55), and my third is a red ’61. It’s interesting, the relationship between the tone when you play an electric guitar acoustically and when you play through an amp. There’s definitely a correlation between how it sounds acoustically and how it sounds through the amp. That’s my fattest-sounding guitar, acoustically and plugged in. It’s so much about the way it vibrates when you play different notes. On that guitar, there are certain frets where you hear a reverb-like sound. It has to do with the springs in the back, but it’s interesting how some guitars have certain hot spots on them and certain places feel like they vibrate more than others. It’s all stuff that gives it personality. I like working and playing around things like that. It gives you a path to travel instead of just having the full options and nowhere to go. It’s like having unlimited freedom, but not knowing what to do with it.

    So guitars on this album were one of those three Strats and, on acoustic parts, an all-mahogany Martin. For amps, I was using both the Major and the Jubilee. I used a Fender Bassman on a few things, too. In the last few years I got deeply into what I can do with a Marshall and a Strat, as far as feedback, tone, and things like wah pedals. Because I’m into synthesizers, I started approaching the tools in the basic setup of a guitar with distortion, wah, whammy bar, and amplification. I started really looking at those as parameters, much like the knobs on a synthesizer. They’re just ways to produce different sounds. For this one, I wanted to use the same gear I use in the Chili Peppers because that is the part of me that I’ve put the most time into developing.

    1969 Gibson Les Paul Custom

    The main stuff for guitar sounds was that rig, and I was treating it with a modular synthesizer. So the recordings usually had nothing more than a wah pedal, distortion, and fuzz. I use the Boss Turbo Distortion pretty regularly, and an Electro-Harmonix English Muff’n tube fuzz, which has really extreme EQ and a big, thick, meaty sound. I used it on the solo for “Enough Of Me.” I turn the EQ up, but leave my guitar Tone knobs down and use either the middle or neck pickup so the initial source sound is really dark and kind of plain. If you blast the tone controls on the effect, you get a really thick, beautiful sound that reminds me of an exaggerated Eric Clapton tone in Cream, where you have this really smooth fuzz. For that solo, I was jumping from low to high notes rather than following a linear train of thought. I was kind of thinking in two ways at once by alternately playing very low notes with high notes, where the octave was displaced by a couple of octaves, and it worked really well.

    I also used the Mosrite Fuzzrite a lot, and a Maestro Fuzz-Tone, which is a funny one. It’s got a cord that goes to the guitar, and there’s only an output to the amp. The E-H Holy Grail reverb is a pretty normal thing for me, and the Ibanez WH-10 is my standard wah since Blood Sugar Sex Magik. I don’t think there’s a better wah. When we were making Stadium Arcadium, there was so much wah I figured I’d use a variety of pedals and there wasn’t one that came close to the Ibanez. There are a couple of Crybabys that are cool, but for me, they weren’t as good, because I use a lot of feedback. I want something that when I put it in one position, one note is going to feed back, and when I put it in another position, another note is going to feed back. You just have more variation with the Ibanez because there’s a wider frequency range. Another pedal is a Boss Chorus Ensemble, which I use to split the signal in my rig.

    St. George XK12 by Bartell of California

    And, early digital reverb units like the EMT 250, AMS, and Lexicon Prime Time were definitely a big part of the guitar sound. A lot of atmosphere was created by using those reverbs and putting them through the modular synthesizer, then doing weird things like tripping them out on the mixing board. I really like the combination of using early digital reverbs with analog synths, analog synth modules, and analog EQs. I think it’s a magical combination.

    How were the synthesizers used?
    I wanted to record the guitar with the effects, then take the sound off tape, run it through the modular synthesizer, and turn some of the knobs and have some of the other knobs in essence turned for me by other modules. Playing with the knobs of the synthesizer that the guitar is going through is pretty much like going through effects. It’s like hi-pass and lo-pass filters, and different kinds of phase shifting. Sometimes, I play a filter like it’s notes on a keyboard, but all you’re changing is basically where your wah is set, though you’re doing it in steps rather than in a linear way like you do it on a wah pedal. But you can jump from one frequency to another. I’m doing that at the end of “Unreachable,” which has four guitars playing harmonies, then all going into the synthesizer and playing the steps of the filter with a keyboard. So I’m playing a rhythm, kind of like a drum beat, but where the high frequencies are kind of like the snare drum and the low frequencies are like the kick drum. So it’s basically like playing a wah pedal that goes in steps, rather than in a linear fashion. So anything that sounds phasey or chorusy, or unusual for a guitar to sound like, I typically do it with modular synthesizer.

    Do you have guitars set up different ways to achieve certain sounds?
    I do. I use D’Addario .010s on my main guitars and the action is between high and low. Whenever I play a guitar with really low action, there doesn’t seem to be as much of a difference when I hit it really hard or when I hit it really soft – there’s less vibration in the body. I would imagine if I picked the strings lighter, I would probably do better with lower action. But I go through extremes of hitting the guitar really soft and really hard, and there’s also a difference of sound in fretting the string hard and soft.

    Gretsch White Falcon

    What type of picks do you use?
    I use orange .60 mm Dunlop Tortex picks. When I play with a heavy pick, it seems like there’s less difference in the sound from picking softly to picking hard. I like the acoustical relationship to the instrument and the way it vibrates the instrument more. It seems like I can apply more variation in sound by having a pick like this, depending on how you hold it. You can do the same thing you can do with a heavy pick, but a heavy pick can’t ever really do what a lighter one can do in terms of rhythm playing. I used to use heavy picks when I was a teenager and into playing fast heavy metal. But as I gradually got more into playing the textural way, I’ve used the orange Tortex picks.

    What are some of your favorite instruments in your collection.
    I love Fender Jaguars. The guitar I’ve owned the longest is a red Jaguar from around ’61. It has a matching headstock. I also have an old white one I transformed into a GR-300 guitar synthesizer. And I have my Gretsch White Falcons. I used to use other guitars on records to give the sound variety, but for Stadium and The Empyrean, it’s been pretty much just Strats. I also have a Gibson SG Custom from 1960 with three PAF pickups. That’s a cool guitar. Similar to what we were saying about when your action is low, because those pickups are so close together, you can’t really hit it very hard because there’s no place for the strings to dig under. You’re really limited to having just the tip of the pick hit the strings, and I think I get a lot of my sound for rhythm playing especially, and for soloing, from digging into the string with more or less of the pick, depending on the note. So I can’t really do it on that guitar and I’ve only used it for things where I want to have a smooth regularity to the sound, which isn’t that often.

    This 1962 Fender Jaguar in Fiesta Red is the guitar Frusicante has owned longer than any other.

    The Les Paul is a ’69, but I’m not sure what years the ES-175 and 335 are from. I don’t play those much; I bought them because Steve Howe played them, but they don’t really go with my style that well. I feel like Strats are an extension of me, and a Jaguar feels like the next closest thing to being an extension of me. Les Pauls and SGs seem like a further stretch. With a 175 or 335, I feel like a totally different person. I barely see a relationship to the way I play and the way those guitars are set up. You grow up developing a style on a Strat, and that’s what you play all the time.

    I also have a red Mustang, and it’s fun. I feel like a different person on it, too, but it feels really comfortable, like an extension of me… but also that it’s a toy instead of a guitar. The same for the Duo-Sonic.

    Around By The Way, I played Teles more than a Strat.

    That Fender six-string bass is something I looked for and can see myself getting more into. There are certain stylistic directions I hear in my head, so an instrument like that is interesting to explore because I like playing bass. I think the P-Bass might be a ’61. I play that one at the end of “Dark/Light” on my record.

    For acoustics, I wanted one like John Lennon plays on “Magical Mystery Tour.” I got one that’s similar and from that same period, around ’65. All of my acoustics are small-bodied and I wanted one that was bigger-bodied and good for chords.

    Frusciante acquired this Gibson ES-175 and ES-335 “because Steve Howe played one.”

    I’ve had most of these guitars for a really long time. When I rejoined the Chili Peppers, I just had one guitar – the red Jaguar. I started collecting and my friend, Vincent Gallo, helped me find a lot of guitars. I specifically wanted that six-string bass because it was something I was interested in exploring, and the classical guitar that I bought, which is an Enrique Garcia; I was practicing classical guitar on tour. That St. George XK12… that thing is a pain in the ass to tune! I’d play it more if I could get it in tune. It’s not set up the best, either. The Rickenbacker used to be owned by James Burton, and that’s his special engraved tailpiece. That’s another one Vincent found because for a while I was really into James’ playing with Ricky Nelson.

    There’s a cool white early-’60s Strat that was rented to me at one point for some reason, and I just had such fun playing that I bought it. But it ended up not really being able to alternate with my other guitars; it’s the kind of guitar you can have some fun on, but it’s not really practical. If you break a string and someone hands you that guitar, you’re not going to be able to do the same thing with it at all.

    Frusciante used this Martin 0-15 to record all of the acoustic parts on The Empyrean. It can also be heard on tracks by the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the Mars Volta.

    As time goes by, I’ve become less interested in experimenting with different guitars and just trying to get the most I can out of a Strat with a fuzz tone. For me, there’s a certain magic in it, especially in ’60s Strats. The other day, a friend asked me to make some feedback that he could sample, and when I sat down with the amp, I was getting sounds like a ring modulator – sounds I’d never heard come out of the guitar.

    There are incredible possibilities when it comes to playing really loud and with different types of distortions and fuzz tones, and using the bar and the pick, and your tension on the strings in different ways. I can’t imagine getting tired of that.

    Have you kept the original pickups in your Strats?
    I would like to, but they do eventually need to be changed. On my [’55], I bought it with an expert who insisted we open it up to see if the pickups were original. He and the people at the store all thought that they were original. Then years later we found out that they were Seymour Duncan Vintage Strat pickups. They are so similar to the originals that it’s hard to tell the difference in sound. I had my ’62, which has the original pickups, and then I had the [’55] with the Duncans, and the sound was very similar. The differences had more to do with the guitars than the pickups. Eventually, I had to get Duncans in the ’62, as well.

    Were many of your guitars purchased to have different sounds for recording, but not intended for use onstage?
    I bought them because I thought I’d play a different way on each guitar. But as time went by, I didn’t use them much. With the white Strat, it was a neat experience because it made me play different, and made the band sound different. If I hadn’t gone through a phase of buying, I never would have came upon the White Falcon and some of the others. I definitely have used the SG and Les Paul in ways that also gave the band a different sound. I had to buy different guitars to see how they’d fit into my repertoire, into my songwriting, and into my playing. So it was a valuable experience and I’m glad I bought all of them. Sometimes I go through a phase where I learn a lot of jazz, where my 175 or 335 will come in handy. You never know what kind of a direction you’re going to go. It’s just been in the last few years after going through a big blues phase and being really into Hendrix’s playing when I was doing Stadium Arcadium that I became really connected to the Strat and put all of my creative energies into it.

    Frusciante’s three primary guitars for stage and studio both solo and with Red Hot Chili Peppers are these Fender Stratocasters from ’62, the mid ’50s, and ’61 (in Fiesta Red). Photos by Neil Zlozower.

    Which guitar is most important to you, sentimentally?
    That ’62 Strat.

    Is there a guitar you’re still searching for, or something you’ve always wanted?
    There is; I’d love to have a ’59 Les Paul. For years, I really wanted one and they just kept shooting up in price. I really feel like there’s a war between people who think artistically and people who think with a business sense. Across the board, I think the world would love for people who think artistically to start thinking with more of a business mind. Just as a matter of principle, you don’t buy a guitar just because it’s a good investment. Then you’re thinking of something you’re supposed to be making music on and being creative with as something that has some sort of monetary value or economical benefits. I just don’t feel that’s a good way to think of an instrument, and it’s the same with so many things. I like paintings, but I don’t want to buy paintings just because I think of them as something I could sell one day. I want to look at them and think of them as something that makes me happy. I’d rather look at the paintings my goddaughter made me than look at something and think, “I can sell that one day.”

    I’ve been offered ’59 Les Pauls, and I’d love to play one. But they’re just too expensive to rationalize. I think it’s important, as an artist, to never feel that anything having to do with music is judged by its price. What you can do with it is much more important than how much it costs. If collectors who don’t play guitars didn’t buy them, their value would be based on what players feel they’re worth. But when the people who would really use them don’t get the chance, it’s a real shame.


    This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2009 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.


  • Danelectro Pro

    Danelectro Pro

    Since Danelectro started reissuing guitars and basses in the mid 1990s, the company has, for the most part, stuck to what it knows works; that means we’ve seen new versions of the trusty U1, U2, DC59, and the Longhorn bass to go with updated models like the U3 and Hodad.

    At last January’s NAMM show, Dano stepped out a bit, and for the first time has reissued the Pro model. Like the original, the reissue is loaded with all the cool mid-century “mod” styling, bowtie-shaped body, white “masonite” pickguard, squared/stubby body, and a rainbow of pastel colors. Topping off its aesthetic elements are “relic” appointments like aged hardware, finish scratches, dirty-looking binding and pickguard, and a satin “played-in” feel on the neck. The effect is subtle and definitely adds to the appeal.

    Unlike the originals, however, the reissue sports a pair of high-output “lipstick-tube” pickups instead of a single low-output unit, an upgraded cast bridge with individual intonation and height-adjustable saddles instead of stamped steel one with a the single rosewood saddle and high-quality die-cast tuners instead of the traditional open-strip variety.

    The rest of the Pro’s features are familiar Dano fare, i.e. sandwiched semi-hollow body (masonite top and back with a hardwood core), white binding tape, three-way pickup selector, master volume/tone controls with bakelite-style knobs, aluminum nut, and a 25″-scale bolt-on neck with a rosewood fretboard.

    The neck’s satin finish and slim C profile give the Pro a comfortable played-in feel while the low-action, polished frets and 12″ radius fretboard make it a breeze to play. The squared body is comfortable to play in any position, and because the whole package weighs only about seven pounds, it never feels cumbersome or bulky. The lack of a real cutaway and the fact that the neck joins the body at the 14th fret does hamper soloing higher on the fretboard, but then this axe wasn’t designed for shredding! The extra mass of the cast bridge adds noticeably to the guitar’s sustain, and its greater intonation capabilities are a huge plus.

    To see how it sounds, we plugged the Pro into a 40-watt tube-powered Chicago Blues Box Roadhouse head and an open-back 2×12″ cab. Its bridge pickup produced a bright, twangy tone with a cool Bakersfield flavor, especially with the amp’s reverb turned up oh-so-slightly. The neck pickup also sounded bright, but with a much rounder/fatter tone, with better midrange and punchier lows. The selector’s middle position runs both pickups in series, in contrast to the more typical parallel scheme, and this is the setting that reveals the guitar’s standout tone, combining the twang of the bridge pickup and the fullness of the neck to produce that cool Danelectro clear, piano-like tone. The series wiring not only offers hum canceling, but nearly doubles the output, making a much hotter sound.

    With a bit of amplifier overdrive added to the mix via a HBE Power Screamer pedal, the Pro’s dirty sound produced a host of musical overtones and a fair amount of gain in the middle position. The bright overall tone and the inherent tendency for lipstick pickups to squeal in a high-gain setting means you can’t go hog wild with the OD, but the guitar makes plenty of it for blues soloing and/or a crunchy rhythm sound.

    Like other Dano reissues we’ve tested, the Pro offers a surprising range of good, usable old-school sounds. Its retro looks and rainbow of nifty available colors add an air of cool, while its excellent fit and finish, playability, and classic Dano tone make it a great overall player.



    Danelectro Pro
    Price $299 (retail)
    Contact Danelectro, PO Box 1327,
    Camarillo, CA 63011; phone (805) 389-4860; www.danelectro.com.



    This article originally appeared in VG‘s June 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.



    DanElectro Pro

  • Robben Ford – The Art of Blues Rhythm

    Robben Ford has been a prolific artist since the early ’70s and is as much a teacher as a recording artist. His impeccable soloing techniques, phrasing, and tone have been the subject of several books and videos.

    Mixing jazz influences into a rootsy blues stew, Ford brings his smooth and tasty rhythm playing to the forefront. He has slowed the touring schedule somewhat, but not the teaching, and in this new 90-minute DVD he explains and demonstrates dozens of blues rhythm concepts and techniques from 12-bar shuffle blues rhythms to mixing in jazz chords to blues comping, and takes you through several of his tunes showing his chord voicings, rhythms, and right-hand picking/finger techniques.

    Ford answers questions about double-stops, guitars, recording, and road gear. Possibly one of the most down-to-earth and easygoing of the musicians in his field, Ford has an easy way that translates well in an instructional DVD environment.

    More than anything, he shows that developing technique then finding the emotion to back it is key to any musical performance.


    This article originally appeared in VG‘s Sept. ’08 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Rex Solidbody By Michael Wright

    Circa 1959 Rex solidbody

    Circa 1959 Rex solidbody.

    While a lot of vintage-guitar enthusiasts are content to pursue well-known treasures, there are others who appreciate a good mystery. For me, it’s been a pleasure to spend a good chunk of my life being a guitar detective who has tracked down mysterious guitar stories that were in danger of slipping away into an eternal sleep of unelucidated obscurity. But even with all the histories I’ve rescued from the dark, there remain those cases that resist enlightenment. Like this ca. 1959 Rex solidbody electric guitar. What the heck is this? Let’s review what we do and do not know about it, and maybe some of you can help with solving its mystery!

    To begin, let’s acknowledge that the internet is of almost no help. If you search, you will find all sorts of contradictory information about Rex guitars, including the “fact” that they were definitely made by Harmony as well as the “fact” that they absolutely couldn’t be Harmonys. You’ll find that the brand was possibly made in Czechoslovakia or maybe in Germany by Framus. You will also see that Gretsch sold Rex guitars in the 1920s and find unanswered queries about a “Rex Royal” company that may have been Canadian and was supposedly owned by Gretsch. Also that Rex was a brand name used by Great West Music Wholesalers in Canada. And that’s just for starters.

    The first true indisputable fact is that this guitar was purchased used in 1994 at the Trading Post, a sort of quasi-pawn shop that at the time was located in the wonderful and now defunct South Jersey Pennsauken Mart across the Delaware River near Philadelphia. In a world of international guitar travel, that doesn’t mean much, but it’s something. Somehow or other, this guitar got to the U.S.

    Secondly, it is almost absolutely certain that this guitar was not made by any known American guitar manufacturer. There is no aspect of this guitar whatsoever, from looks to components to “feel,” that marks it as American. So far, it’s never been seen in any American guitar catalog. What’s more, there’s nothing at all about it that says Asian, meaning Japanese. Even if the dating is only close, Asian workmanship would not be this good at least until the 1970s. Even if the dating is way off and this was from the 1970s or even later (and it’s not), it is not of any known Asian origin.

    A third thing we do know is that Gretsch did market a line of Rex-brand acoustic guitars in the 1920s and early ’30s (at a time when it was primarily a banjo company), before it began using the Gretsch name on guitars in 1933. We do not know who made them, but they were probably sourced from someone else. A possibly related clue lies in the little known fact that during the 1930s Gretsch also sold Rex Royal accordions, probably from Europe.

    More tantalizing and still for sure is that in around 1948, possibly somewhat earlier and later, Gretsch was selling a line of Rex guitars built for them by Kay. These were mostly archtops, including the Lancer, Aragon, and Royal, and some flattops known as Playboys. This is the only confirmed existence of the Rex Royal name on guitars and it is associated with Gretsch. They could have marketed these guitars in both the U.S. and Canada, but only the American presence is currently certain. In any case, the guitar shown here ain’t no Kay! And probably has nothing to do with Gretsch.

    Likewise no mention of or association with anything called Rex has ever been found for Harmony. We have no knowledge of a Rex Royal guitar company in Canada, and the Kay explanation above is far more likely.

    All this turns our suspicions eastward. Not to the Far East, but across the Atlantic.

    Let’s pause for a description. With a somewhat narrow familiar single cutaway shape, this Rex has tortoise-bound flat (not arched) flamed maple top and back over a core that looks to be very light-colored solid mahogany. The glued-in neck – baseball bat thick suggesting ’50s – is a sandwich with mahogany on the outsides and a strip of flamed maple in the middle, separated by two strips of what looks like rosewood. There doesn’t appear to be any metal reinforcement. The bound rosewood fingerboard has brass frets. The pickups are meaty single coils. The plastic pickguard shows slight playing wear but there is a rectangular area around the pickups with no wear, suggesting that there were pickup covers at one time. The wrap-around bridge/tailpiece has a crude bar saddle that is manually adjustable. This has a nice ballsy single-coil heft to its sound.

    Everything about this guitar shouts European, though – like Monk – I could be wrong now! The individual covered tuners with the fancy buttons are nickel and look and feel Euro. They turn in an opposite direction of normal tuners. When you Google Rex you find a UK site with a Rex archtop purchased in the UK in 1958 with a square cutaway, waist f-holes, and dramatically bent tops and backs that are clearly of European origin, suggesting possibly Germany or Italy. Its logo was also a crown, but different. One thing is fairly certain – this is not is a German Framus guitar, an Italian guitar, or of English, Dutch, or Swedish manufacture.

    So, where do we land? What seems most intriguing is the Czech suggestion. After World War II, Czechoslovakia was carved out of eastern parts of Germany and included a handsome swatch of guitarmaking regions. This territory continued production under Soviet rule. Czechoslovakia is just east of Germany and just north of Italy. The mix of pretty good workmanship and somewhat backward design and components are just what you’d expect of a Communist product.

    For now, this Rex solidbody must remain a mystery. While not all of you will agree, I think the world is a better place for still having mysteries. But then again, I’d sure like to solve this one. If you know anything, please let us know!



    This article originally appeared in VG‘s January 2009 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Fender ’57 Amp

    Fender 57

    History tells us that Leo Fender wasn’t much for “fancifying” things. More meat-and-potatoes than Chicken in Walnut Curry, Leo was a simple guy, and that ethos carried over to the goods produced by his company, whose early amps were covered in tweed or plain black tolex (for flavor, sometimes brown) and guitars were mostly slabs of wood cut with no fancy arches, curves, routes, or headstock angles.

    So it’s no surprise that Fender’s ’57 Amp looks nothing like anything created by Leo – and why the company touts it as something he might have built if one day he’d had a little too much coffee, caught a glimpse of a passing Caddy, and suddenly developed an eye for design.

    We kid, of course…

    Conceived by Fender industrial designer Shawn Greene and design engineer Nick D’Amato, along with Shane Nicholas, Marketing Director of Fender guitar amps, the ’57 Amp is a limited-edition, hand-wired 1×12″ combo that boasts several distinct features that separate it from the company’s standard amps. If you like, call it Fender’s “boutique” amp!

    From its fancy, auto-inspired split grille to its piano-black-lacquer finish, knurled control knobs, sleek billet-cut-aluminum “speedboat” handle, and black grillecloth, in terms of aesthetics this is truly a custom unit. Inside, the ’57 Amp sticks to what works – its chassis is the tried and true Fender 5E3 (the technical designation for the circuit, referring to its rectifier tube) Deluxe, with top-shelf components and hand-wired construction.

    One of the darlings of the vintage world, the Deluxe was introduced in 1948. It used one 12AX7 and one 12AY7 in its preamp, running into two 6V6GC power tubes. The combination delivered some of the most harmonically rich, slightly compressed sounds ever produced by thermionic valves (a.k.a. vacuum tubes). A medium-powered amp, it was designed to give guitarists enough volume to compete with drums and other instruments. And because it so adequately handled virtually any playing style, from clean country background strumming to all-out blues and rock, it has been used by players of all genres.

    Fender 57

    In the literature and a nicely produced DVD packaged with the ’57 Amp, D’Amato talks about listening to vintage ’50s Deluxes and newer clones as they searched for a shining example on which to base the sound of their concept.

    For the sake of testing the sounds of the ’57 Amp, what could serve better than a trusty Fender guitar from back in the day – perhaps a ’59 Esquire? And for serious head-to-head fun, why not a gen-u-wine Deluxe from ’56?

    To establish a reference, we first plugged into the ’56. At low volume and playing a traditional bouncy country rhythm on the Esquire, the elder amp offered the trademark uncompressed clean tone that earned its reputation – big on the bottom, crystal clear on the top. Really nice, and really mellow – fun… for a while. But for most players, the amp starts to groove for real when you take its Volume and Tone controls up to where the 6V6s start to growl (about 6). Strumming a second-position G chord (alternating with a open G and D strings for flavor – think “Honky Tonk Women”), the Esquire teams with the amp to give all the “Ahhhh, yeaahhh” tone you could imagine, its stock Jensen P12Q speaker dancing in the pine cabinet, delivering all of the Deluxe’s 12 punchy watts. Classic, unmistakable, with glorious overtones and just the right amount of gain and compression.

    Sitting next to the ’56, the ’57 Amp looks shiny, new, and otherwordly, its glossy piano-black exterior in stark contrast to the aged tweed of the ’56. Its split grille does look like a badass old car rollin’ in your direction, and its aluminum handle, cap-head screws, chrome-plated tube covers, and custom-engraved big-burl knobs lend obvious custom touches.

    In terms of circuit and tubes, the amp has much in common with the ’57 Deluxe Amp tweed “reissue” reviewed here in July ’07. But there are two major tone-affecting departures in the ’57 Amp; the Celestion G12 Alnico Blue speaker (the reissue has a Jensen P12Q) and a solid maple cabinet (versus pine).

    Plugging into the ’57 Amp with its controls set in identical positions reveals many of the same characteristics as the ’56, but the more-efficient G12 Alnico Blue offers greater output and a tone with more lower-midrange emphasis, noticeably better low-end definition, and discernibly sweeter breakup. Any vintage-amp aficionado will tell you that time tends to work magic on speakers, and while the vintage Jensen in our ’56 Deluxe proved that to be true compared to the new P12Q in the tweed reissue, pitted against the oh-so-gorgeous Alnico Blue, the 50-year-old P12Q got a run for its money. The elderly speaker did produce a more articulate midrange, but otherwise, Blue is better!

    Both the Deluxe and the ’57 Amp are wonderfully touch-sensitive amplifiers. Tweak the Volume and Tone knobs to your liking, and walk away; let your fingers, pick, pickups, and the guitar’s controls dictate the tone. The amp’s two sets of inputs (two labeled “Mic,” two labeled “Inst.”) offer subtle differences; the Input 2 set pushes the amp harder into overdrive, where you hear slightly greater compression and less note separation.

    57 Fender inside

    Interior of the’57 Amp.

    Fender 57 Deluxe inside

    Inside of the ’56 Deluxe.

    Secret Sauce
    The ’56 Deluxe is an all-time classic whose rep speaks for itself. The ’57 Amp, on the other hand, is a modern showpiece with custom touches and technical upgrades that place it above virtually any mass-produced amp. And playing through both in an A/B situation reveals an obvious difference in the degree of compression and amount of harmonic overtones, especially when the Volume knobs were dialed up to our test level and beyond. And to our ears, in “stock” form, the ’56 sounded better. The ’57 Amp, though nuanced and equally touch-sensitive, has more gain, which tends to cover the overtones.

    Why is this? The answer lies in the preamp tubes; the ’57 Amp uses two 12AX7s in its preamp, the ’56 uses one 12AX7 and one 12AY7. The two-12AX7 configuration sends maximum preamp gain to the power section while the 12AY7 sends a bit less, which means you hear more of the power-tube saturation from the ’56. And when you’ve learned to discriminate between the two, from a small combo amp like this, the magic (to most ears) lies in letting the power tubes do the driving. Fender did this because it could not find a supplier to provide 300 consistent 12AY7s.

    For 6V6 purists, the good news is the ’57 Amp readily accepts a 12AY7 swap (as does the tweed reissue). Try it, and sure enough, it becomes a true beast, where the combination of preamp gain, power section saturation, maple cab, and the Alnico Blue speaker offer what may be the ultimate tone in a 1×12″ combo. Played clean, it’s chimey and glassy and bright. Turn up the guitar’s volume, hit it Townsend-style, and voila – rock and roll! A quick plug-in with a humbucker-equipped Les Paul reveals a whole new world of sound, too; think Reverend Billy F Gibbons on “LaGrange.”

    The '56 Fender Deluxe

    The ’56 Fender Deluxe.

    Packaging for the ’57 Amp includes a sturdy nylon micro-fiber-lined slip cover, a batch of Fender 346 picks, and a leather-covered folio, all adorned with a logo that matches that on the amp. The folio contains slip cards featuring artist renderings of the design process, and notes from Green, D’Amato, Nicholas. There’s also a DVD that discusses the amp and the design in interviews with all three.

    So, what’s the point with the ’57 Amp? Is it Fender showing the world of indie/boutique amp builders what it can do? Or simply showing its capabilities when budget isn’t an object? Proving it can slip out of its shell now and then? Whatever, given that Fender built “only” 300 of them, certainly they are implying that the market will see it as collectible. Time will tell. But until then, it’s one hell of a fun retro trip!



    Fender ’57 Amp
    Price $3,999 (retail)
    Contact Fender Musical Instruments Corporation, 8860 E. Chaparral Road, Suite 100, Scottdale AZ 85250; www.fender.com.



    This article originally appeared in VG‘s September 2008 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.



    Fender

  • Warner Hodges

    Warner Hodges

    Photo: Rusty Russell.

    Jason and The Scorchers hit the stage with bombast, conveyed true rock-and-roll punch in the studio, and was massively influential. But it never attained superstardom.

    The band’s post-/neo-rockabilly style was dubbed things like “cowpunk” “country punk,” “punkabilly,” and “alt country.” And despite receiving huge props from critics, Top 25 album sales, videos on MTV, and a devoted following, JATS was never awarded its stripes. After being dropped by its record label in 1987, original bassist Jeff Johnson quit and the band took two years to release another album. Then, when 1989’s Thunder and Fire didn’t take off and drummer Perry Baggs was subsequently diagnosed with diabetes, guitarist Warner Hodges decided he’d had enough of fighting fate.

    Strange things, though, musical trends; the advent of alternative rock epitomized by Nirvana had a sweeping effect. Next thing you knew, bands like Uncle Tupelo and Wilco were in fashion and carrying the “alt country” flag. By 1993, Johnson wanted back in. It took some doing, but he convinced Jason and the Scorchers to reunite – Hodges being the primary sticking point. But with Johnson and Baggs being every bit as into their newfound sobriety as Hodges was, he decided to go for it, especially since Johnson was proposing only a brief tour – two weeks, sticking close to home and playing friendly haunts. They rehearsed and rolled – and reaction from fans knocked the band on its collective ass. Two weeks, hell!

    Two years later, the band released A Blazing Grace to a strong reception from fans and critics, and toured yet again. They followed with Clear Impetuous Morning in ’96 and the live Midnight Roads and Stages Seen in ’98.

    In the years since, the band has seen ups and downs. Baggs passed away in July of 2012 after dealing with kidney disease. But Ringenberg and Hodges are still performing and recording, their work dwelling in quite different worlds.

    In September of ’08, the Americana Music Association honored JATS with its Lifetime Achievement in Performance Award. Calling the band “musical pioneers,” the AMA noted “generation after generation have fallen under this sing-songy definition of success in one way or another. But Jason and the Scorchers embodied all three prongs of the hypothesis. They were punk. They were country. They were rock… most of all, they were originals.”

    Indeed. Music in the early ’80s was more than just “country” or “rock.” There was “new wave” and “pop punk” and “hard rock” and “NWOBHM.” But JATS drew no such lines. With stylistic roots in country and a mindset to rock, the band offered audiences songs that were equal parts Faron Young and AC/DC, delivered with an over-the-top physicality epitomized by Ringenberg’s seizure-like stage moves and Hodges’ guitar-flailing spins and jumps that would’ve left C.C. Deville and Steve Vai neon green with envy – except maybe on those occassions where he bloodied himself by bashing his face into a mic stand or breaking a tuning key off his guitar – which he did while maintaining a rep for not missing a note!

    Jason and the Scorchers wound up in Nashville via different roads; Ringenberg was an Illinois transplant who brought a cowboy hat and twangy voice to the bright lights of Music City. The Scorchers were local boys looking to play most anything but country.

    Hodges, the son of accomplished professional musicians who for years toured with USO bands in England, Germany, and the U.S., grew up immersed in the 1950s/’60s “cry in your beer” country that was his parents’ specialty. His first instrument was drums because, “Every kid is interested in pounding on stuff like a drum kit!” His father, Ed, played guitar, his mother, Blanche, was the primary singer, and they introduced Warner to the potent effect of playing onstage.

    “The first time I played was when we lived in Germany in the late ’60s,” he said. “I was 10, and their drummer didn’t show for a gig. Dad told me to load my stuff.”

    The stage being literally set, he instantly became hooked on performing, even if being behind a drum kit lost its appeal…

    What changed your view about drumming?
    Watching Angus Young at my first AC/DC concert, going back and forth onstage. It was like “Lord have mercy! I want in on that,” you know? Three chords and a cloud of dust! It was my “My God!” moment. I didn’t want to be stuck on the drum stool.

    Who was at that show with you?
    It was Jeff Johnson and I – we were kids. My dad dropped us off.

    You weren’t even old enough to drive?
    Hell, no (laughs)! And when I started talking about playing guitar, my parents bought a ’62 Fender Jazzmaster from a guy who used it for a bit then put it in a closet.

    How did you learn to play guitar once the decision was made to grab it?
    Well, I was very fortunate my dad played and very fortunate my parents made me aware of all the great country music and ’50s rock. My older brother one Christmas got me Are You Experienced, Led Zeppelin’s first album, and Black Sabbath’s first album!

    What does your dad think of AC/DC and the other rock music that influenced you?
    Oh, he loves that stuff! Dad turned me on to Keith [Richards] and Woody (Ron Wood). It was like, “If you’re gonna do this, you gotta do it right. You gotta listen to these guys.”

    My parents were always cool. In my dad’s mind, there’s no such thing as “country” or “rock” music or whatever. There’s good music and bad music. If it’s played well, he don’t give a damn. He thinks Parliament Funkadelic is cool as hell.

    Which other guitarists influenced you?
    Well, when I was a kid I had country music jammed down my throat to the point of not really digging it. But if I have a style, it’s because of my parents; because I learned so much country stuff first. Hell, I ran around with 900 songs in my head, because that’s what they did. But later, some of the first licks I learned were from Kiss songs. Then, Jeff and I were huge Cheap Trick fans, and that’s still one of my favorite bands. I listened to everything, and being in Nashville, we listened to Albert Lee and James Burton and the country/Tele superpicker stuff – musician’s musicians. There’s no way to live [in Nashville] and avoid being influenced by that.

    A year or two ago, I went to a guitar clinic here given by Albert Lee, and it was absolutely one of the most frightening things I’ve ever seen! Three hundred guitar players sitting there going, “Welllll, looks like I gotta get a job.” Amazing (laughs)! My buddy Dan Baird (of Georgia Satellites fame) always jokes about how he’s the 463rd best guitar player in Nashville (laughs)!

    Do you remember the first time you played guitar in front of an audience?
    Well, I started playing lead guitar in my parents’ band. I’d be the bass player, the drummer, the guitar player, whatever we needed.

    How about with people other than your parents?
    Perry, Jeff, and I did some really crappy “battle of the bands” stuff and that kind of junk. There was a little punk-rock club here called Frankenstein’s, it was the first punk club I know of in Nashville. It’s where we found out about The Clash and the Sex Pistols and all that stuff. This was ’76 or ’77. It only lasted two or three years. But that was where we learned to perform in front of people.

    1953 Gibson ES-175D

    1953 Gibson ES-175D, bought new by Hodges’ father and used a lot on the Dan Baird and Homemade Sin record, strung with a wound G. “Danny did a lot better job with it than I did,” Hodges laughs. “But then he uses barbed wire for strings!” Photos Rusty Russell.

    64 Fender Jazzmaster

    Hodges’ prized ’64 Fender Jazzmaster. “I was given this guitar when I started playing by my parents,” he said. “I got it and a Vox Berkley 2 Beatle amp. I was 10 years old.” It has long been his primary recording guitar, including the early JATS albums. “It has a sound all its own and has never let me down.”

    Fender '52 reissue Telecaster

    This Fender ’52 reissue Telecaster has been around since JATS got back together in ’92. “A great guitar I bought very cheaply from Corner music in Nashvegas,” says Hodges, “It had feel straight off the wall, sounds great, and will not go out of tune.”

    What was the band called?
    The Electric Boys, and later, The Purple Giraffes. The Electric Boys – it’s kinda funny to think about it now, but that band was Green Day 20 years before Green Day; real fast chord progressions, but melodic. Had we come along 20 years later, we would’ve been onto somethin’ (laughs)! The Purple Giraffes was more just crazy, whacked out stuff – Generation X/Billy Idol, more obscure punk. But we also did original songs written by a buddy named Tom Littlefield, who is still a songwriter around town. He’s Woody Herman’s grandson and was writing songs at 15 or 16 years old – pop-driven melodies that sounded like Cheap Trick. Great songs.

    Where were you at this point in terms of developing your stage presence?
    Well, I was the singer in The Electric Boys. Jeff was the lead guitar player, and Perry was playing drums or bass – whatever we needed. Perry can pick up and play anything that makes music.

    So you had to be near the mic most of the time…
    Which was okay.

    Do you have a “main” guitar?
    Sure, the ’62 Fender Jazzmaster my parents got for me. Through the years it has had every pickup known to man – I mean every pickup. It’s been routed out so much that it actually changed the tone – in a good way. And I had it refinished one time, at Gruhn’s. It’s one of the loudest solidbody guitars I’ve ever heard without an amp. Seriously. I’m looking at it hanging on the wall and thinking of Nigel Tufnel – I can practically hear it resonating (laughs)!

    What pickups are in it right now?
    In the lead position it’s got a ’71 Firebird pickup that Seymour Duncan gave my old guitar tech in the Scorchers, and a Tele pickup in the rhythm position.

    Is it still wired like the Jazzmaster?
    Hell no! It’s wired like a Tele, man! Volume pot, jack, three-way switch…

    What other guitars do you play most often?
    Well, I’m a Tele guy. I’ve had three or four Strat phases – I’ve still got a great Strat. But I always find myself saying, “I can do damn near anything with a Telecaster,” you know? I’ve got three that I take literally everywhere with me – a Relic that cost an obscene amount of money. But my god, it’s an amazing guitar. I’ve also got a Strat, an SG, a Junior, and a ’53 Gibson ES-175D.

    How about amps? What setup have you been using?
    Well, I really started changing the amp thing about three years ago. I had always used big, loud amps – Marshalls, Hiwatts. Then I went completely the other way, approaching the small-amp thing. But now I’m using mostly a Fender ’57 Deluxe reissue and a 40-watt Blues Deluxe. I also use combinations of two Fender Pro Juniors through a Pro Junior with a Blues Deluxe, depending on the volume I need. That said, on the Homemade Sin record I used a 100-watt Marshall with a 4×12 (laughs)! Jeff Bakos in Atlanta turned Dan and me on to Hellatone speakers, made by Celestion. They’re broken in when you get ’em, and they eat Greenbacks for breakfast! Dan and I are truly impressed.

    Talk about the first time you hooked up with the Scorchers.
    After The Electric Boys just sort of imploded, there was about a year where Perry, Jeff, and I weren’t playing together. I was playing with this other group called The Press – a new-wave thing, like the Cars. A little bit more song-driven, a little bit less racket. Anyway, I ran into Jeff, who’d gone to an R.E.M. show Jason opened. He told me, “You gotta go see this guy.” So I went to see Jason, and he opened for Carl Perkins – his first two gigs in Nashville were with R.E.M. and Carl Perkins – and he was just astounding. I don’t think he was onstage 30 seconds – he was in the audience all night long. And I was thinking, “This is really cool,” and knew I had to hook up. Jeff had been trying to finagle his way into Jason’s guitarist spot. His bass player was Jack Emerson, who eventually became our manager. The drummer was Barry Felts, an old buddy from Frankenstein’s.

    Long story short, Jeff ended up moving to bass with Jason, and brought me in because they needed a guitar player. I brought in Perry because we needed a drummer, and the rest is history. It all happened over a period of about three months.

    And did everybody have the same objective?
    Yeah, we were in it to get a record deal. That was the golden ring in those days. It took a couple years, but then Jack started Praxis Records. He had his hand on damn near everything that happened here for 15 years; he’s a very influential guy. If you were playing rock music in Nashville, you had to have Jack in your camp.

    And eventually you signed with EMI…
    It’s a funny thing – we were passed up by EMI seven times before they signed us. We had us a nice little file of rejection notices. But we just kept loading Jason’s little van, going out, and playing.

    The first two records were EPs.
    Yeah, Reckless Country Soul was a EP on Jack’s label, and simply put out so we could play a show in a big club. You had to have a record to get a gig (laughs). The second, Fervor, was where we were at the time. When EMI signed us, we had just put that out on Praxis, and added “Sweet Marie” to it, doctored it up, remixed it, and reissued it. It won EP of the year in the New York Times two years – as an independent and the next year for major-label EP. It was a good little record.

    But things started really happening with Lost & Found?
    Oh, and at that point we were gonna be the next Beatles! The first two years, the songs you hear on Reckless Country Soul, most of Fervor, and most of what become Lost & Found was our live show – we played that stuff every night. Lost & Found was a really good record, but it also helped create our sophomore jinx. We had been performing most of that stuff for a couple of years. So when we walked in, the songs were there. Still Standing was the record where we realized we needed to have songs.

    You felt the pressure?
    Yeah. And we’d been touring like crazy and there were a lot of negative things starting to happen – alcohol and way too much touring – no time to recuperate, and no time woodshedding. Our off time was spent doing another record. We bought into some of the hype and were too stupid to understand how things really worked.

    Lost & Found was very well-received, critically amd commercially. And you followed with Still Standing. Thoughts on that album, looking back?
    My problem with Still Standing was that the reverbs had reverbs! But some of the songs were very good; “My Heart Still Stands With You” is one of my favorites. The live version sounds a million times better. But it was a lesson learned the hard way, and I never again recorded the same way.

    What do you remember about making Thunder and Fire and that time in the band’s history?
    Well, the big problem with Thunder and Fire was the day the record was released, we were dropped. We worked our rear ends off putting that record together – I never worked so hard for so little.

    You got no push whatsoever in terms of publicity?
    Nope, nothing. We spent a small fortune making it, and a lot of time and effort. And when the label dropped us, I went off the deep end. How many times can your crawl in the ring and fight Mike Tyson before you just don’t want to fight any more, you know? You win, I lose! I quit playing for three years. It was the most frustrating time of my musical career, for sure.

    Fender Telecaster Relic

    This Fender Telecaster Relic is Hodges’ primary live guitar. “I thought Relics were B.S. until I picked this one up and played it. It weighs nothing.” Photos Rusty Russell.

    chambered Warmouth

    Hodges calls this guitar, “My attempt to get a Les Paul Special P-90 tone. A damn nice parts guitar, it’s a chambered Warmouth mahogany body with the fattest maple neck I could get from Warmouth. It has a big, meaty P-90 sound and I used it on about three-quarters of the Homemade Sin CD.”

    Guild acoustic

    7) Guild acoustic given to Hodges by Dave Roe, longtime bass player for Johnny Cash. “Every time I picked up this guitar, we came up with a song,” Hodges recalled. “I guess it’s kinda like me – a little worn, but it stays after it in a very good way.”

    What did you do with yourself?
    Basically, I drank way too much, to be dead-up honest. I just went off the deep end. I don’t know how else to describe it. It was like all of my dreams had come crashing down around me.

    Despite the fact Jason and the Scorchers had songs on the radio and the “Absolutely Sweet Marie” video was on MTV, what kept you from becoming superstars?
    I think we were way ahead of our time. The reason I always heard, that I actually understand, was that we were too country for rock radio and too rock for country radio. Once we got to A&M we realized how good a job EMI had done with us – I believe they did everything they knew how to do with us. But there was just really no place to put us. They tried very hard in Europe, and we still play there as a result. But what we were doing was just not being done back then. Now, I think we’d be pushed as a straight country act.

    But what is country music these days?
    Thank you very much! Everything’s “Americana…” You’re rap, you’re classic rock, or you’re Americana.

    When the Scorchers started, there was no such thing as a distorted guitar on a country song. Turn on a country radio station now, it mostly sounds like bad Lynyrd Skynyrd. But when we started, country radio was about Lee Greenwood and Vegas-like country… Barbara Mandrell… Vegas Elvis country music. We wanted nothing to do with that type of music or the music establishment – and it didn’t want a damn thing to do with us! But, once the New York Times and the London Times decided we were cool, then everybody dug us.

    JATS re-formed in ’93, and you were the last guy to sign on. Why were you so reluctant?
    I’d sobered up and was terrified to go back out and play clubs. I was trying to get my life back together and didn’t trust myself to be in clubs. Plus, I found it hugely ironic that the thing I blamed for all my problems – the music business – was gonna help the Phoenix rise from the ashes. But it did… and I still ain’t had a drink in almost 16 years.

    Why were you so skeptical?
    I didn’t think anybody cared. I’d worked so hard putting the Thunder and Fire band together, but we never even got it out there for people to hear. We did a few shows, but not many. And I really wasn’t interested in sobering up. The only thing I knew was how to make racket with a guitar, chase women, and drink beer. In my head, all of it went together. And for the first couple of years after the Scorchers started playing again, I would literally walk into the club when it was time to play and walk right off the stage and get in my car and leave. I didn’t spend one minute in the bar that I didn’t have to.

    What was the plan with the reunion?
    Jeff wanted to do a 20-date reunion tour over 25 or 26 days, then go our separate ways. There was a front and back to it. And we didn’t want to play Nashville, just in case it sucked. Personally, I signed on for the money. But by day 10 everybody started getting into it and we were having a great time. It was like, “I wish we were doing more shows!” Then we decided we needed a record and all of the fabulous stuff that goes along with it (laughs)!

    What do you remember about the first reunion gig?
    Well, we planned to rehearse for a week, but Jeff’s mother passed away right before, so we ended up only rehearsing twice – we hadn’t hit a lick with Jeff in five or six years… I hadn’t played in three. And the first rehearsal was absolutely godawful. I mean terrible! We talked about canceling the tour, it was so bad. But at the second rehearsal, things came together. And fortunately, our first gig was in Bloomington, Illinois – a small place. It was like a dress rehearsal, and I don’t know if it was egos or what, but we walked out to, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Jason and the Scorchers” and it was like someone flipped a switch – like we’d never stopped playing together.

    Adrenaline rush?
    Yeah, that was a biggie. The next night, we played in Chicago, and I remember the promoter, backstage before the show, telling us he thought he’d been sold a bill of goods because our contract rider for that tour said the dressing room had to be cleared of alcohol. He’d been told Jason and the Scorchers drank like fish!

    So the rest of the band was approaching sobriety the same way?
    Oh, yeah. Well, Jason never had a drinking problem.

    And after Chicago…
    It just rolled on. I remember the fifth show was Atlanta. The girl I ended up marrying was at that show. And that was also the night that I realized, “Damn! I’m a guitar player. I have got to be doing this!”

    And plans changed so the band would keep going?
    Oh, yeah! Jeff was going to get more gigs and we were gonna record. On whose Fostex machine? I don’t know (laughs)! And with what money (more laughs)? But we’ve got some friends here who owned the Castle Recording Studio here in Nashville and the manager/house engineer at the time was Mike Janas, and he cut a deal with the owner, so when place was empty we could use it to record for free. We just had to buy tape. And we worked out a little deal to pay Mike – but he might have made a buck an hour. And we recorded A Blazing Grace here and there over the course of four or five months.

    Did you enjoy the process?
    I had just sobered up and I didn’t know if the thing sounded good, bad, what, you know? It was a very difficult record for me, so it was never one of my favorites. I didn’t like the way we did it – there was no cohesion. We’d do two days here, three days there. But it got the band back on track.

    After A Blazing Grace, we got to really play again. It felt like Jason and the Scorchers – playing dates, working, and having a great time. I got a little sober time under my belt, and I didn’t feel near the trepidation being around the music business, which had become a lot more people-friendly and roots-oriented. I liked the way our new label, Mammoth, was doing things. We were never asked to do stupid stuff, and they didn’t expect us to sell Led Zeppelin-like numbers. They simply gave us a place to make Jason and the Scorchers records, which is all we were looking for.

    In ’96 you recorded Clear Impetuous Morning, which was also very well-received. How do you feel about that album, in retrospect?
    That is one of my faves! When we did Clear Impetuous Morning, we had a batch of 17 or 18 good songs. We went down and did it in this little studio we were turned onto by Jeff Bakos down in Atlanta. We were very comfortable recording there. Jeff’s still a good friend!

    Is there talk of a new JATS studio album?
    There is. But it would be different; Jeff left the band because he just didn’t want to do it anymore. Perry needs a kidney transplant, he’s very ill and simply can’t tour, so we’ve quit doing Jason and the Scorchers shows. The last five years, I think we’ve done four shows, and two were benefits – one for Jack Emerson’s widow after he passed away, and one for Perry. He’d been in the hospital for half a year and had no insurance at the time. He can be involved if we record in Nashville. Even if he can’t play drums, he can write and he can sing.

    On our European dates we’ve had Pontus Snibb playing drums. He fronts his own band in Sweden, and is basically a guitar player/singer who can play the hell out of the drums. It’s almost like having Perry back there; Perry’s not really a keyboard player and a guitar player, but he could play drums like any punk-rock drummer would get after it, but with a great sense of musicality. Fenner Castner has been our drummer in the States for the last few years.

    Marshall 100-watt PA head

    Marshall 100-watt PA head belonging to Dan Baird. “I used this or a 100-watt Hiwatt on the Homemade Sin CD,” says Hodges. “This amp and I kinda went together very well. The only knob I ever touched was the Volume knob – it went up for more gain or down for less, and did the deed very well!” Photos Rusty Russell.

    Talk about your gig with blues singer/harmonica player Stacie Collins.
    It’s like a blues version of the Scorchers. My buddy Ken McMahon used to play in her band, and about three years ago his wife had a baby. So I offered to cover two gigs for him – and I’m still there!

    I dig it because I get to play blues. It’s still a little bit of a country-rock thing, but touches more blues. I’d never been down that road. And she’s a harmonica-playing fool – she can flat-out get after it! Dan produced her first record, and that’s how he and I reconnected. One thing led to another, and we fell into the Homemade Sin thing.

    And then there’s your gig in Dan Baird’s band, Homemade Sin. Who else is in that?
    It’s Dan, Keith Christopher on bass, Mauro Magellan, who was also the drummer in the Georgia Satellites, and I. And it’s a s**t-hot rock and roll band!

    When did you guys fire it up, and what was the premise?
    Well, I went to Europe late last summer to do one Jason and The Scorchers show, and with the help of a fan named Mark Cunningham added 15 solo shows to showcase a record I’d just finished. I wish I had 500,000 more fans just like him. Anyway, Dan’s band had a tour scheduled and their guitar player bailed on them at the last minute. So I covered those shows, and one thing led to another. They were planning on breaking up after those shows, but we come home and instead wrote and recorded an album. It was really cool. They’re all incredible players. I fight like hell to keep up! It’s a load of fun.

    When did you find time to do a solo record, and what’s it about?
    The solo record is basically a Jason and the Scorchers record without Jason. About a year and a half ago I was approached by Mark Cunningham who wanted to know why I hadn’t been to Britain in so long – it had been nine years since the Scorchers had been over. I jokingly replied, saying “Book some shows for me and I’ll come play them.” Well, he did (laughs)! So we worked it out, went over and did the shows, and I just started thinking before I went, we’re gonna need songs. So I did a record. I just called on a bunch of friends and did it in three or four days. I was working on a record before that, but only had five or six songs. So I added a few covers and put it out there. It’s a rockin’ record – relies way more on solos than songs.


    Warner Hodges’ Mix for the JATS Newbie

    For the uninitiated, the man responsible for Jason and the Scorchers’ gutpunchin’ guitar offers a 16-track mix of suggested cuts to prime yer’ pump. Call it his personal “best of” collection.

    “Most people think I’m Mr. Balls-Out Guitar – they think Jason is the country-folk side of the band and I’m the loud punk rock guy,” he says of his selections. “And I do love the loud stuff. But nine times out of 10 when Jason asks what I want to play at a gig, I answer with some form of country song. And these are not all about super-hot guitar solos,” he adds. “But they’re good songs… which is a good thing.”

    “Absolutely Sweet Marie” (Fervor, 1983)– “This is the song that got us noticed in 1983-’84. This was our first MTV video, and it got some radio airplay. We did a fine job with this because Bob Dylan has told us we did a fine job! I don’t know if we need any more validation.”

    “Broken Whiskey Glass” (Reckless Country Soul, 1982, and Lost & Found, 1985) – “First truly original song for JATS as a band with Jason, Perry Baggs, Jeff Johnson, and myself. It epitomizes what we were always after in music. There is calm before the storm, then intensity with melody.”

    “Still Tied” (Lost & Found)/ “Pray For Me Momma, I’m a Gypsy Now” (Fervor) – “Most people don’t know I was raised on a strict diet of 1950s and ’60s true country music. I love when JATS goes after a country song in the tradition of the music my mom and dad taught me to play as a kid. I never realized as a teenager the advantage I had over all of my musical friends because of my upbringing.”

    “Kingdom For a Car” (Thunder & Fire, 1989) – “Guitar-wise, it’s not really a great Scorcher song, but it’s got a really nice solo.”

    “Crashin’ Down” (Still Standing, 1986) – “Probably the single best electric guitar part I ever put together, front to back.”

    “Harvest Moon” (Fervor) – “Love it so much I re-recorded it on my solo record.”

    “White Lies” (Lost & Found) – “Scorchers fans love it, and it is a good radio song. One of those I think I’ve played a thousand too many times!”

    “When The Angels Cry” (Thunder & Fire) – “The solo and outro are fun, fun, fun. It was much easier live with Andy York in the band, but pulling this song off live in a three-piece is very rewarding – or very humbling, depending on how I deliver it on a particular night.”

    “Walking A Vanishing Line” (Clear Impetuous Morning, 1996) – “Kind of obscure, but I love that song.”

    “Walking The Dog” (Midnight Roads and Stages Seen, 1998) – “Cool because it features my folks. Not all kids get to play with their parents in a band. I really cherish the times it happens, especially since it’s less frequently now.”

    “Cry By Night Operator” (A Blazing Grace, 1995) – “A good rock and roll song.”

    “My Heart Still Stands With You” (Still Standing) – “I love the song, but hate the production.”

    “Jimmy Rodgers’ Last Blue Yodel” (Reckless Country Soul) – “We got to go all the way back to the punk rock, man!”

    “Last Time Around” (Lost and Found) – “The outro solo is a fun back-and-forth pickup-change solo. Fun as hell live!”

    “Somewhere Within” (A Blazing Grace, 1995) -“This song has more meaning now with Perry’s physical troubles. I always loved playing the solo with him. It would get down to he and I, and always reminded me of better times when we were really young, just jammin’ in my parents’ basement.”


    Toughest Tele I own

    “Toughest Tele I own,” Hodges says of this guitar, which on one day in ’96 was run over by an airline luggage tractor then, after a strap lock broke during one of Hodges’ trademark over-the-shoulder guitar slings at the gig that night, sailed 19 rows into the audience. Retrieved by the band’s tour manager, he tuned its B string and went back to work.”These days, it’s Dan Baird’s spare if his Esquire is out of commission.” Photos Rusty Russell.

    Warner Hodges’ 5 reasons the Tele kicks ass

    1) You can play things behind the nut. You gotta love that!

    2) It doesn’t matter what gauge of strings you use, you cannot mess up the neck.

    3) You can drop it, kick it, pick it up, and it’ll stay in tune. One night in Norway, I threw one 19 rows deep into the audience, and a girl brought it back. The B string was sharp – that was it! That same guitar, in a case – not a flight case – was run over by a luggage tractor and six carts full of luggage. I went to the Scandinavian Air Service baggage claim to open the case – I told the lady, “I want you to see the damage at the same time I do.” I was so pissed off! But I opened the case and there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the guitar. The case was destroyed, but the guitar was fine. That’s a Telecaster.

    4) James Burton. I got a buddy who met Elvis. He asked, “Hey, Elvis… Where’s James?”

    5) You can play any musical style with a Telecaster. It’s the Bayer aspirin of guitars. Crazy, how Leo got it right the very first time!


    To catch up and keep with Warner Hodges, see his page on Facebook.


    This article originally appeared in VG‘s November 2008 issue and has been edited since first appearing online. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.


    Watch this video in a new windowJASON & THE SCORCHERS (Warner E. Hodges) 2009- “Fortunate Son” (by John Fogerty) LIVE

  • John Pizzarelli – With A Song In My Heart

    Not every artist could get away with releasing a series of tribute albums. John Pizzarelli can.

    This one features 12 tunes by Richard Rodgers and all seem very heartfelt; for example, the title/opening cut, which swings fiercely. And while Pizzarelli’s vocals are not great, they’re always in the pocket. And really, we’re here for the guitar playing, Pizzarelli’s is certainly exciting. The solo is a monster, full of imagination, exhibiting tremendous chops, and again, he swings about as hard as a single player can.

    Several cuts here share those traits. On some he scats to the solos. The jaunty “I Like to Recognize the Tune” is a perfect example, and lets the listener in on just how well Bucky’s boy can handle a rhythm. While a lot of the songs are familiar, he does take liberties with melodies. “The Lady Is a Tramp” could easily become cliché, but his vocal and a nice segment where he and his guitar trade fours with the horn section give it zip. He turns “Johnny One Note” into a Latin piece, and manages to slip Jobim’s “One Note Samba” in somehow, and the songs fit together well.

    Bucky shows the kid a few things with his chordal accompaniment on “It’s Easy to Remember.” And the legendary Don Sebesky lends his hand on the arrangements of several tunes, which helps keep things fresh.

    Should John work more on original stuff and maybe lay off the tributes? Perhaps. But as long as he’s creating music this fresh and playing guitar like one of the best in the field, what would be the point?


    This article originally appeared in VG‘s Nov. ’08 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Epiphone Rivoli

    Epiphone Rivoli

    1967 Epiphone EB232C Rivoli, serial number 100530. Photo: Bill Ingalls Photography. Instrument courtesy of Bill Flippo.

    Former Gibson president Ted McCarty (1909-2001) is credited for his leadership of the company when it peaked in terms of innovation, design, and execution. Under his guidance from 1948 until 1965, Gibson developed a reputation as the premier builder of solidbody guitars, separated from the Fender company’s utilitarian instruments by their fancy carved tops and set necks.

    In 1999, McCarty told Vintage Guitar that the instrument he most admired from his tenure was the semi-hollow ES-335; he is credited for devising Gibson’s famed “thinline” configuration, which used a wooden center block under the guitar’s bridge, pickups, and tailpiece to increase sustain and structural strength. It also made the guitar virtually immune to feedback. But another significant accomplishment was more about McCarty’s role in marketing…


    In 1957, Gibson’s parent company, Chicago Musical Instrument (CMI) bought floundering New York-based instrument builder Epiphone primarily because it produced a respected line of upright “doghouse” basses. And although Gibson ultimately opted to discontinue the upright bass, McCarty recognized that owning the Epiphone brand meant Gibson could sell instruments and amplifiers to stores that handled CMI lines but were not Gibson franchises; after the acquisition, Epiphones were made to the same standards, in the Gibson factory, and often had only minor cosmetic differences from certain Gibson counterparts.

    The electric bass was another innovation that came into its own in the ’50s. Fender was first to successfully market one, but Gibson introduced its violin-shaped solidbody Electric Bass (VG, February ’06) in 1953, followed by the semi-hollow 335-style EB-2 in ’58, and the solidbody EB-0 in ’59 (replacing the original-design Electric Bass).

    When it was introduced in ’59, Epiphone’s electric bass, the Rivoli, was a fraternal twin of Gibson’s EB-2; each had a thinline maple body that measured 16″ wide, 19″ long, and 13/4″ deep. Both had double rounded cutaways, unbound f-holes, and of course, the center block. Its neck was mahogany and its rosewood fretboard had 20 frets with dot markers on a 301/2″ scale. Like its Gibson counterpart, the headstock had rear-projecting, banjo-style tuners, as well as a plain one-piece bridge/tailpiece that was not intonatable but had an angled portion for better tuning stability. The first-version Rivoli also had a massive single-coil pickup mounted near the neck, and simple Volume and Tone controls. It, too, began its existence in natural and sunburst finishes.

    As the EB-2 evolved in ’59 and ’60, so did the Rivoli, each acquiring standard right-angle tuners, a humbucking pickup, a pushbutton baritone switch, and a flip-up string mute. The differences between the two were primarily cosmetic – different headstock silhouettes with different pearloid inlays. The pickguards also had different configurations, and the Epiphone had the trademark circular E on its scratchplate. The ’67 Epiphone Rivoli shown here sports the Cherry Red finish that became an option the year before. It also sports the later hardware, plus a handrest seen on some examples. The E logo has worn off its tortoiseshell pickguard.

    Curiously, despite their evolution, both were discontinued in the early ’60s, only to be reinstated in ’64, when semi-hollow basses became favored by “British Invasion” bands; the Rivoli actually became the higher-profile instrument as English players gravitated to its sound, light weight, and playability. Sunburst-finished Rivolis were utilized by the Animals (Chas Chandler), the Yardbirds (Paul Samwell-Smith), Gerry & the Pacemakers (Les Chadwick), the Small Faces (Ronnie Lane), and many others. Chandler reportedly used his Rivoli to record the intros to “We’ve Gotta Get Out Of This Place” and “It’s My Life.” And from 1964 to ’66, John Entwistle used a sunburst Rivoli as well as a natural-finish EB-2 as part of his arsenal in the High Numbers, which became The Who when the band changed its name in ’64.

    Jimmy Page played a sunburst Rivoli during his tenure with the Yardbirds, perhaps the same one played by Samwell-Smith before he left the band – and Yardbirds rhythm guitarist Chris Dreja may have played it when he switched to bass after Page became the band’s sole guitarist during its final incarnation. Later in the decade, Free’s Andy Fraser utilized a natural-finish Rivoli.

    The Rivoli was discontinued in ’69, but made a brief reappearance with two pickups in 1970 – the same year Gibson moved manufacture of Epiphones from Kalamazoo to Asia, where it remains today.


    This article originally appeared in VG‘s March 2009 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.


  • Carrie Rodriguez – She Ain’t Me

    Carrie Rodriquez’s second solo release marks a radical departure from her Americana roots toward the bright lights and big-city sounds of modern pop music. Since her first record in ’02 with Chip Taylor (Let’s Leave This Town), where she had to be coaxed to sing backing vocals, Rodriguez has mutated from a virtuoso fiddler who sang occasionally into a singer/songwriter who sometimes takes a solo on fiddle.

    In Taylor’s place, Malcolm Burn brings his own sensibilities as producer. The result is less predictable, with more emphasis on Rodriquez’s musical individuality than her links with traditional folk forms. Ten of the 11 tunes were written or co-written by Rodriguez, with the only non-original song penned by Burn. None could be mistaken for conventional. All use unusual chord changes, suspensions, and bridges that meander back to the head in unpredictable ways. Some, such as “Absence,” hint at older folk styles, with a backbone formed by a fiddle riff while the mood and texture evolve beyond tradition. Rodriquez’s new musical direction may not immediately win over fans. But after several listens it begins to stand on its own in a profound way.


    This article originally appeared in VG‘s Dec. ’08 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Eastwood Airline Deluxe

    Eastwood Airline Deluxe

    The demand for vintage and retro-style axes has become so prevalent in today’s guitar-crazy culture that there’s hardly a brand, style, or color of guitar from the ’50s to the ’70s that hasn’t been resurrected in one form or another.

    From Danelectro to Hallmark to Univox, oddball guitars were the first instruments for many an aspiring guitarist. One such brand that enjoys the that designation is the guitar-boom era favorite Airline.

    Originally manufactured by Valco (who made Supro/National), Airline guitars of the ’50s and ’60s were loaded with futuristic style and design.

    Fast-forward to 1997. Mike Robinson, a Torontonian with a big-time jones for the funkiest of old-school guitars, fires up a website to serve as a shrine to guitars with more switches, knobs, and pickups than usually proved necessary, comfortable, or even safe! But his skills and advocacy didn’t stop there. In 2002, Robinson also fired up Eastwood Guitars, where he re-creates modern versions of instruments by Univox, Mosrite, Coral, Harmony, and Airline. Made overseas, his axes are produced in limited numbers using state-of-the-art techniques and machinery.

    We recently had one of Robinson’s Airline guitars fly in for a touch-and-go.

    Eastwood Airline models are available in standard and deluxe trim in two- and three-pickup versions. The two-pickup model has a tune-o-matic-style bridge with trapeze tailpiece, while the three-pickup has a Bigsby-style with a roller bridge. The deluxe versions feature alnico-magnet humbucking pickups (versus standard ceramic) and a sweetly-retro raised Airline headstock logo and vintage NOS knobs. The logo and knobs are made from the original molds, from the original manufacturer!

    In terms of quality of fit and finish, the Airline is top-notch; frets are highly polished with round, clean ends; paint is flawless; and the block mother-of-pearl inlay work is cleanly executed. The guitar features a chambered Nato body that’s light and resonant, and a bolt-on maple neck with rosewood fretboard. The off-white body, along with the black-and-white four-ply pickguard, black pickup rings, black-painted neck, in-line control layout, and geometric shape of the body lend a very art deco vibe. Contributing to the look is the chrome hardware, including the Bigsby and bridge, three-on-a-side strip tuners, and chrome pickup covers.

    Controls include volume and tone controls for each pickup, five-way pickup selector switch, and master volume.

    The Airline was set up well, with low action and a dead-on straight neck with level frets. The guitar is comfortable to play, though the row of six volume and tone knobs does make for a bit of alteration if you palm-mute or strum aggressively – so there are minor concessions for the sake of looking very cool and playing an utterly original instrument! And after a while, it’s easy to work around.

    With the Airline plugged into a Fender Vibro-king 3×10″ combo, a run through its five pickup combinations revealed a very mellow, well-balanced sound. The guitar’s overall tone is darker than you might expect – more on the jazzy side than the surf side. The bridge pickup alone does have significant snap, while the middle and neck pickups sound smooth and round. Some of that mellowness is contributed to the semi-hollow Nato body; even with the guitar unplugged, you can hear the guitar’s jazzy tendencies. Plugged into the overdrive channel of a Koch Twintone 1×12″ (see accompanying review in this section), that mellow tone translated well to edgier blues and rock playing, with a creamy, well-defined tone. If we used too much gain or got too close to the amp, it wanted to howl a bit, but never became uncontrollable. The Bigsby-style vibrato and roller bridge work very well – smooth, with no real tuning issues, even with hard use.

    The Eastwood Airline is a surprisingly pleasant departure. In the ’60s, you didn’t see an instrument like this in the hands of jazz players, likely for the same reasons you didn’t see Fender’s Jaguar or Jazzmaster; at the time, Gibson’s big-box hollowbodies ruled the scene. But today, the Airline is ready to go aloft, whether the assignment is rock, surf, blues, or jazz.



    Eastwood Airline Deluxe
    Features Semi-hollow Nato body, three alnico humbuckers, vintage-style hardware and knobs, Bigsby-style vibrato, roller bridge.
    Price $899
    Contact Eastwood Guitars, 75 Main Street S., Brampton, Ontario L6Y1M9 Canada; phone (416) 294-6165; eastwoodguitars.com/myrareguitars.com.



    This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2005 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.



    Airline 3 PU Deluxe