Photo: Ed Rode/WireImage.All but forgotten today, with his low-slung guitar, stylish rhythm licks, and tasty leads, Lowman Pauling was one of the great guitar heroes of the ’50s. Guitarist for the R&B doo-wop band the 5 Royales, not only did Pauling pick melody lines and play leads, he also composed many of the band’s songs, sang in the five-piece group, and served as a sort of musical director.
Pauling was one of Steve Cropper’s first guitar inspirations. “Bo Diddley had the rhythm and Lowman Pauling had the notes,” he said.
Cropper is paying credit to Pauling and the band with Dedicated: A Salute to the 5 Royales, a new album with 15 5 Royales songs re-made with Cropper’s funky licks and vocals from special guests.
Cropper remembers the night he and bandmate Donald “Duck” Dunn snuck into a 5 Royales show in the Beverly Ballroom near Memphis. Their band played downstairs at the Tropicana, but when a big act came to town, the club closed as the promoters knew everyone would be climbing the stairs for the main feature.
“Duck and I were 18 or 19, and we’ve reminisced many times remembering that night and seeing those guys. He was influenced by the bass player and I was influenced by the guitar player.”
They carried that inspiration with them into the Mar-Keys, and Booker T and the MGs.
“Lowman Pauling looked great onstage,” Cropper explained. “He was the action guy. He had the moves, man. He could do that shuffle. He had this long strap that just blew me away – I’d never seen that before, you know. Straps only came in certain lengths – they still do. I couldn’t wait to get home and put belts together to make my own long strap for my Gibson Byrdland.”
Cropper and Dunn later crossed paths with Pauling. In fact, the CD’s cover picture was taken at the Royal Peacock Lounge in Atlanta, with Cropper wearing his Byrdland slung low in emulation of Pauling.
“The Mar-Keys had a record, ‘Last Night,’ which I think was number three in the nation, and I didn’t know the 5 Royales had played the Royal Peacock Lounge two or three weeks prior; our tour followed the 5 Royales and Ike and Tina Turner for about four weeks. I don’t know how we made it!”
Cropper borrowed more from Pauling than just strap length; his melodic style was one of Cropper’s main inspirations. “In the Mar-Keys, we always played the 5 Royales’ ‘Think.’ That’s the one, as far as those stamp fills… I copped that from Lowman, and I’ve been using them forever on all the Stax stuff.”
The idea of giving thanks to Pauling came from the album’s co-producer, John Tiven. After releasing three solo albums from 1969 through the early ’80s, Cropper he was in no rush to try again. “John called one day and said, ‘How would you enjoy doing an album with nothing but 5 Royales songs, as a tribute?’ I went, ‘Wow! Why didn’t I think of that!’”
The duo listened to the 5 Royales’ catalog and selected songs. Cropper then was faced with the question of how faithful he should be to the originals.
“I called John and said, ‘You know, it’s not impossible to copy Lowman’s licks, but how close do you want me to be to this?’ He said, ‘I don’t want you to be that close at all. I want you to play Steve Cropper.’
“Lowman always played very melodically,” Cropper added. “So where he played definite lines, those are the lines I picked up on, like intros and that kind of stuff. The rest of it, I’m sort of just on my own. I did most of those important licks on a session, played rhythm, then went back later and overdubbed the solo stuff. So there’s a couple there where we have two or three tracks and left them in there – made one pass, made another pass. We just kind of put them together and said, ‘Hey, that sounds pretty good!’”
Cropper was happy to play guitar, but preferred not doing vocals – especially on an album of doo-wop tunes. “I proved to myself long ago that I’m not really a singer – I never thought I was one anyway. If I had my preferences, I’ll just be a member of the band and have fun doing that; I love backing other people.”
So Cropper and Tiven began calling friends; Sharon Jones added vocals to “Messin’ Up,” Brain May sang and played guitar on “I Do,” Lucinda Williams sang “When I Get Like This,” and there are more tracks featuring B.B. King, Steve Winwood, Buddy Miller, Delbert McClinton, Bettye LaVette, and others.
Cropper played much of the rhythm parts using a vintage Fender Telecaster from his Stax days. He still has the tweed Fender Harvard he used to record “Green Onions,” but opted for the old Quad Reverb used on many later Stax tracks.
For the lead lines, he used his stage workhorse Peavey. Some solos employed the Quad Reverb, and “…some were done at John Tiven’s house and we went direct.”
What about effects pedals? “Naw, just straight into the amp,” Cropper said. In fact, he has never been a big user of effects. “I use an A/B box,” he laughed. “One side goes to the tuner, the other goes to the amp.”
Perhaps the hottest track on the album is an instrumental version of “Think.” Cropper had long played the 5 Royales’ version with the Mar-Keys, but for Dedicated, Tiven suggested they cover the funkier James Brown arrangement. On the track, the band simply cooks. “Steve Jordan was there playing drums, and Lord have mercy, we didn’t ever want to stop playing it!” Cropper explained. “We got through, and he and I were laughing. I said, ‘Guys, that’s the way you make records!’ Just spontaneous.”
This article originally appeared in VG October 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Talent for mysteries, passion for guitars, best-selling Novelist Jonathan Kellerman is a lifelong lover of the guitar. A player for 46 years, to him, the guitar is not only a device for release and inspiration, but a true passion.
“After I finish writing, the first place I head is the guitar room, for an hour or more of playing,” he said. “I play jazz, steel guitar, and recently, I’ve decided to go back to reading classical pieces.”
Before becoming a practicing psychologist and then novelist, Kellerman’s days as a student at U.C.L.A. were spent studying and hanging out in the offices of The Daily Bruin, where he would draw editorial cartoons and contribute other content. He was also a serious guitar player in a gigging band. After earning a Ph.D., he spent 15 years as a psychologist while publishing short stories, scientific articles, children’s books, and three volumes of psychology.
Today, the author of 24 consecutive best-selling thrillers, with some 70 million copies in print, is the caretaker of one of the finest guitar collections in the world. A highly discriminating collector, Kellerman admits that keeping all of his 100-plus instruments tuned up and playable requires a certain level of commitment. And he’s keenly aware of the how some collectors of his stature are viewed with disdain because of the perception that their instruments are stored out of the hands of people who could be using them to create music.
Vinnie Bell’s 1963 161/2″ D’Angelico New Yorker. Asked why he had it made so small, he told Kellerman, “I didn’t want to shlep a big instrument to gigs.” He also said it was one of the last built by D’Angelico himself, and Bell hand-selected the woods.
“I relate to that whole thing because I don’t like the idea of buying instruments and stashing them in closets,” he said. “Though it may sound strange, I’ve really tried not to buy so many that I can’t play them.”
Through the years, many notable players and instrument dealers, including Andy Summers, fingersylist Ed Gerhardt, Larry Wexer, Stan Jay, Tim Kummer, and the late Warren Zevon, have had the pleasure of viewing and playing parts of the Kellerman collection. We recently spoke with Kellerman to get the story on how his collection started, how it has grown, and how it may change in the future.
Vintage Guitar: How did you get started collecting guitars and other fretted instruments? Jonathan Kellerman: Oddly enough, I never set out to collect, per se. I was always after great sound. In high school, I gigged with a wedding/bar-mitzvah band, but my equipment stank. So I scraped up some dough and I took the bus to Wallach’s Music City, on Sunset and Highland, and bought the best guitar I could afford – a ’61 double-cutaway Gibson Melody Maker, for $120. If I’d had 40 bucks more I could’ve bought a ’58 Les Paul flame-top!
When I began working as a psychologist, my income grew. But I was still far from affluent – I treated children at a pediatric hospital and worked as a med-school professor. My lunch hour was used to chase down guitars and, of course I followed the lists of the major dealers.
Over the years, I traded off less desirable items until I’d assembled mostly premium instruments. At some point I decided to concentrate on the creme de la creme. That’s when I traded away some very nice Gibson L-5s, Super 400s, and Epi archtops, and limited myself to D’Angelicos, D’Aquistos, Strombergs, etc. And I always bought for sound. Sometimes that meant sacrificing a bit in terms of condition… but not always. Back in those days, you could get instruments in fabulous condition that also sounded great.
I do tend to concentrate on specific areas for periods of time, for example, steel for a few months, then classical, then archtops, etc. For every great instrument I’ve acquired, I’ve turned down 50. I have no interest in amassing thousands of instruments that get neglected. Even with this many instruments, I start to feel guilty when one I haven’t attended to in awhile stares back at me reproachfully (laughs)!
Kellerman’s Gibson “Lloyd Loar quartet” makes his collection one of the truly elite. All are from 1924; from left, they are an extremely rare K-5 mandocello, an L-5, a ’24 H-5, and (scroll down)….
How long had you been playing before you started collecting?
I stared playing in 1959. I began acquiring in the mid 1970s.
What criteria do you consider when purchasing an instrument for your collection?
To me, collecting guitars – or any object d’art for investment – feels vulgar. And it rarely works. Great collections are built through passion, lots of self-education, eye training, and plain old good taste.
Are you concerned with historical significance, cosmetics, and originality more than utility?
Historical significance is a factor, but the primary factor is sound. Since I own so many great guitars, I’ve also gotten extremely picky about condition, and would rather wait years for the right one.
Is monetary value or potential appreciation a consideration?
I don’t care if the guitars appreciate or not, though I’ve been astonished at how well high-end fretted instruments have performed vis a vis other so-called investments. And aesthetics are important. For example, in addition to loving the sound of premium archtops – visitors who think archtops have no sustain are amazed to play the great ones in my collection – I admire the artistry that goes into carving them.
I find a certain conceptual and artistic similarity between archtops and concert classicals. Both emphasize clarity – what the classical musicians term “note separation.” Both are great for solo playing and jazz, and require a tremendous degree of skill to create. Both are highly sophisticated, musically subtle, refined instruments. Which is not to detract from the great flat-tops, with their sweetness and sustain and adaptability to so many forms of music. The great ones are all wonderful!
You don’t have nearly as many electric soldbody guitars as acoustics, but those you have are great ones. What attracted you to them, and how do you view their position in your collection?
I purchased the electrics more than 20 years ago when I was still doing some combo work. Back then, the prices were low, so I could obtain nice ones at what seemed like a bargain – a ’55 Fender Telecaster for $1,200, mint ’64 Stratocaster for $1,300, ’58 ES-335TN for $1,900 and a Candy Apple Red ’64 Jazz Bass for $600. Despite my wife’s urgings – she’s really the smart one – I never went for a ’58 or ’59 Les Paul – I just kept watching prices climb… and climb.
But the fact that I concentrate on acoustics doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate electrics – they’re an artform, and one of the most important technological advances of the 20th century, at least to a guitarist. But I find myself gravitating toward the organic nature of acoustics.
I probably won’t buy any more electrics, because I’m unlikely to play them. When my son is home, he loves wailing on them.
Do you have any favorites amongst the steel guitars?
Weissenborns are, to my mind, the most consistently good marque. There are no bad ones – only good ones and great ones. They’re built on the brink of explosion – certainly not sophisticated instruments. But that’s part of the charm. Tons of sustain, sweetness, that ephemeral quality. I love playing steel late at night – the old mournful vibe.
…an F-5. Other pieces in Kellerman’s collection include this ’58 D’Angelico New Yorker and ’53 D’Anglico 19” oval-hole Special.
The Knutsens are built even more flimsily than Weissenborns. In fact, some accuse Chris Knutsen of being a wood butcher, but the Knutsens I own sound amazing. What fascinates me about Chris was his individuality and eccentricity. He never built the same instrument twice – ever. I’ve seen backs made of finished mahogany taken from Victorian furniture, all kind of weird woods for tops, sides etc. The use of “found” materials, strange assortments of bass and treble drone strings on harp Hawaiians. But they sound great if you know how to get the sound out of them.
The earliest Weissenborns, with paper labels, are softer, but sometimes a bit more subtle than the later ones with larger bridge plates and chunkier bridges. I also own three roundneck Spanish Weissenborn guitars, all koa, and they’re great blues/fingerpicking instruments.
In some sense, Weissenborns – and to an even greater extent, Knutsens – are the antithesis of the finely constructed D’Aquistos, Martins, and Fletas that I cherish. But every bit as great.
I also own a couple of Kona-type guitars built by a Michigan violinmaker named Garrett Brink. Different, but terrific.
An ’83 D’Aquisto 12-string archtop (left), 1940 D’Angelico round-hole Special with mahogany back and sides, and ’55 Fender Telecaster.
Do you have an interest in any other instruments?
Yes, I do have some fretted instruments built by violinmakers; I own a fabulous Wilkanowski Airway archtop that sounds midway between a D’Angelico and a Stromberg, and has a one-piece back of Po Valley Poplar (an esteemed cello wood.) Also, Ignacio Fleta – the Stradivarius of the classical guitar – began as a violinmaker. And it’s obvious when one studies the construction of his guitars. I own a ’68 with Brazilian back and sides, which is unusual because most Fletas are Indian rosewood.
How long has it taken to assemble your collection?
About 30 years.
Do you view it as reasonably complete, or as a work in progress?
Well, I’m running out of aesthetically pleasing display space, but a fabulous, high-end, historically interesting instrument with terrific sound can always get my attention. Let’s face it, it’s a disease (laughs)!
How do you view the organization of your collection?
I feel any collection should have focus and coherence. That’s what makes it a collection rather than a hodgepodge display of conspicuous consumption. My areas of concentration have been premium archtops, pre-war Brazilian rosweood Martins, especially 1945 models; pre-war Brazilian Gibson flat-tops, like a ’38 AJ and a ’40 SJ-200; concert classicals; and finally, steel guitars.
A Stromberg Master 400 cutaway, ’59 Gibson ES-335, and ’40 Gibson J-200 with Brazilian rosewood back and sides.
Your display is beautifully coordinated. How did you go about setting it up?
When I decided to display the collection, I contracted with the Peter Carlson Company. They’re experts at museum display, and the cases are set up so there’s adequate airflow, and temperature and humidity are controlled. The instruments never “close up.” And though most instruments can tolerate being suspended by the neck, we’ve added bottom support to minimize stress. The way we’ve got them displayed also creates the illusion of hanging in space. I chose a deep green background because it shows off the wood tones of the instruments. During a recent visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, I noticed that they chose a very similar background hue.
Peter Carlson’s brother, Rob, did the building. In addition to being an artisan, he’s a first-rate musician and built a wonderful Loar F-5 replica for himself. That made the project a labor of love for him. Rob and I did a bit of jamming, and our friendship has endured. Sometimes we play in a bluegrass band together, along with some real notables like Bob Applebaum.
You have numerous mandolins and related instruments, including one of every Gibson instrument designed and signed by Lloyd Loar. Do you play mandolin as much as guitar?
I noodle around, but I’m quite inept (chuckles). Once again, I never set out to assemble a quartet. I purchased a lovely Loar L-5 in 1981 and several years later, when I was publishing bestsellers, I decided to gift Faye with an F-5, triple-bound with gold-plated hardware. It’s dated 1924, but looks more like a ’23, and several experts have said it resembles other ’23s from the Monroe batch (Ed. Note: those with what is generally called “side binding” or binding turned so that instead of white/black/white from the top and a white from the side, you see white/black/white from the side and white from the top). It’s a gorgeous-sounding instrument and in mint condition, with a bit more of the classic sweetness and sustain than the barky bluegrass sound.
Kellerman’s set of Martin 45 models includes a 1940 D, a ’31 OM, a ’28 OOO, (scroll down)…
Right after I bought the F-5, I bought a gorgeous H-5. At that point, I started thinking quartet. The problem was the K-5. There aren’t too many out there. I put the word out and 10 years later, Tom Van Hoose called and said, “Jon, guess what I found?”
I love looking at the four of them hanging together, and when my son is in town, he and Faye and I play trios. The fascinating thing is that the Loar instruments seem voiced to each other. It’s almost like hearing a string quartet, or trio, as it were. These are masterpieces of luthiery and I believe they are, even at today’s prices, significantly underpriced.
I also own a very interesting 1922 F-4 with Cremona finish, truss rod, and Virzi, that clearly has Loar’s hand in it. It’s the best-sounding F-4 I’ve heard, and looks great with the Loar quartet.
Your wife, Faye, is also a player…
Faye trained on violin and flute, convinced herself she wasn’t good at either – though she was – and took up mandolin because it’s tuned like a violin. She studied with Bob Applebaum and also studied bass with Tim Emmons.
Do the two of your have much time to play together?
We play from time to time, but I’m more the daily player.
… a ’27 OO, ’27 O, and ’19 “baby Ditson” model 1 with ivory bridge.
You have a number of instruments by modern master luthiers such as John Monteleone. What is the percentage of recent versus vintage instruments in your collection?
Actually, the only modern guitars I own are two by John – a 1998 Hexaphone and an archtop John calls the Radio City Malibu Sunset Triporte, made in 2001. I met John at the home of Michael Katz, the sadly departed collector, player, and all-round terrific person. Mike had the first – and only Hexaphone – John had built at that point in the ’70s, I believe – and my playing it brought about a bit of attitude adjustment. Every bit as good, and a lot more playable, than some of the finest vintage flat-tops. So I commissioned one, and it’s a great guitar; John’s workmanship is unmatched. A visiting luthier played it, and tears came to his eyes as he said, “I’m going to have to change how I build guitars.” Ed Gerhardt played it and said, “It doesn’t sound like it looks.” Meaning it’s a big jumbo thing, but it has a delicacy and subtlety to it. Extremely versatile guitar.
John’s archtop mastery means the Hex can be used for jazz, but I’ve played it in a bluegrass band and it worked there, too. The triporte archtop is magnificent and has that same combination of volume and refinement. John’s a master. The fact that I haven’t bought guitars by other contemporary luthiers doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate their work. I believe the level of craftmaship is higher than ever. I’ve just chosen to concentrate on vintage and there’s only so much time and space.
A Maccaferri seven-string Hawaiian (left), Rickenbacker “frying pan” lap steel, and Wilkanowski Airway.
As you gained knowledge and experience, how did your focus change?
One gets more selective about condition. I’m really quite happy with what I have and thankful that I’ve been privileged to take care of these treasures. Of course, there’s tons of stuff I don’t own, but being exhaustive has never been my goal. Sometimes, I consider selling the duplicates. For example, I own two Weissenborn teardrops. Both are great, and probably from the same batch, but they sound different. They’re so rare that I kept them. I did resist the temptation to buy a third one.
Do you have long term goals for the collection?
Just to keep playing, listening, learning, serving as a good custodian for this utilitarian art, sharing the instruments with other guitar lovers. I’ll probably do a book on the collection, once I clear away a few fiction projects. My publishers have never done anything like that, but as long as I sell novels, they’re willing to indulge me.
Do you collect any instruments you do not play?
Just the mandolins, which Faye plays. I’m not putting anyone down, but I just don’t see the point of buying instruments and not playing them. Why not paintings or sculpture or rare coins? We have one purely decorative piece, an 1897 Vinaccia bowlback mandolin, near-mint, extremely ornate presentation model. After I bought it, a prominent classical mandolinist from Europe contacted me wanting to make sure I knew it should really be in a museum. I thought Faye might play it, but she didn’t like the sound, so it’s displayed in a light box.
How do you view your collection and your goals as a collector in contrast with others in the field?
I really don’t have much contact with other collectors. I know others, such as Scott Chinery, assembled marvelous pieces, but his goal seemed more exhaustive. I give him credit for raising consciousness about fine guitars and for his generosity lending instruments to fine players and commissioning instruments from gifted contemporary luthiers, like the Blue Guitars. I’m a quieter sort, more concerned with focus and achieving the best sound I can find.
How does your collection and music fit into your life and work?
The guitar has been a large part of my life since I learned to play in 1959, when I was nine years old. This was pre-Beatles, at the advent of rock and roll. I recall being fascinated by the sound of the guitar – in fact, all guitar sounds – classical, flamenco, rockabilly, steel. My mom wanted me to take up the violin, but I insisted on six strings and frets. My first guitar was a Gibson L-50 with a black finish that my uncle got for 50 bucks in a New York pawnshop. I still own it. Heavy-gauge Black Diamond strings and pudgy 9-year-old fingers made for some serious pain. I was taught the way you were taught anything – clarinet, piano, etc. Reading music, scales, long hours of practice. I even played in the music school’s orchestra. Fortunately, I could barely be heard.
Do you have any specific favorites?
If I had to select one instrument from each genre, I’d probably go with my 1967 Daniel Friederich classical – a famous guitar for which Friederich won gold and silver medals at the International Exposition in Belgium. It’s explosive, sweet, responsive, clear, almost freakishly full-toned.
My Monteleone archtop is great, as is an ’80s D’Aquisto Excel that is basically a one-instrument symphony. All of my pre-war Martin 45s are astonishing. The 1940 D-45 is much more balanced than a bluegrass herringbone.
Of the steels, one of my two Weissenborn teardrop guitars and a walnut-topped, extremely ornate Knutsen harp Hawaiian, reputed to be the last instrument Knutsen built. And, of course, the Loar quartet.
What types of music appeal most to you in your listening and playing?
I hate to use the term “eclectic” because it implies lack of focus. But I just love the sound of guitar played well in any genre; Doc Watson, Pepe Romero, Leo Kottke, Stevie Ray Vaughan. Several years ago, my son and I had the privilege to see Romerto, Kottke, Joe Pass, and Paco Pena togther in concert. Each played solos, then they switched to various duets, trios and quartets. It was transcendental! I felt the same way watching Eric Johnson, Joe Satriani, and Steve Vai on the first G3 tour.
I also love steel guitar, and when I turned 50 I wanted to see if I could learn to play. I was able to make music almost from the beginning, and assembled a couple dozen Weissenborns, Knutsens, Nationals, Dobros, and the like. Playing “Sleepwalk” is a kick.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2005 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Gold-foil pickups are exotic beasts – just like many of the 1960s Japanese-made Teisco guitars that sport up to four of them crammed between neck and bridge. These pickups may look like the grille of a ’59 Eldorado, but Teisco aficionados will tell anyone that original gold foils are not nearly as reliable as an old Cadillac, reflecting an era when “Made in Japan” were code words for inconsistency. Jason Lollar has rectified this problem with a reproduction Teisco-style gold-foil pickup that sports all of the Godzilla flash of the Asian originals infused with the magic and skill of one of the most renowned boutique pickup makers in America. And the tone? Vintage Ry Cooder or David Lindley, with a healthy dose of Hound Dog Taylor.
Gold-foil pickups are so named for the piece of foil (typically stamped in a grid pattern) installed between the coil bobbin and metal cover. But not all vintage gold foils were made equal. The two most well-known variants, the Teisco-style units used by Ry Cooder (in his modified Stratocaster, aptly named “Coodercaster”) and the DeArmond “double moustache” foils found on some Harmony guitars of the ’60s, have noticeably different tones. The Teisco-style pickups (which Lollar modeled) tend to be brighter and more sought-after than the DeArmonds, though one is in danger of entering cork-sniffing territory with such comparisons. These thin pickups have a lot going on inside with no room for error – not something your average weekend winder can take on. Jason Lollar has gone through great pains to chase the dragon into his foils.
Lollar’s gold foils are available as single pickups and as matched sets of neck-bridge and three-position. An H-S-H-routed Stratocaster was “Cooderized” with a neck-bridge pair that was then run through a variety of amps. The first word that came to mind was “glassy,” as in Waterford crystal – transparent but with attitude. Played through a blackface Deluxe Reverb and an AC30, the upper mids and highs rang with clarity, colored by the warmth of complex harmonic overtones. It simply cried for a bottleneck slide. Especially notable was the neck-position pickup, which delivered amazing Cooder-ish tones. Both conjured a pleasantly surprising amount of bite and grit through a Tweed Deluxe. Gold foils are certainly not the first choice for death metal (the market has many lower-priced options), but it would be a mistake to conclude that they are one-trick ponies, incapable of delivering tasty, crunchy riffs or sweep-picked staccato blitz.
The bridge pickup carried more treble, without any hint of the ice-pick characteristic of some single-coils (yes, these are single-coils), but just a bit more in the way of output would have been nice (the bridge came in at 7.24k-ohm, the neck at 6.78k). The pickups played very well together and were nicely balanced at full volume. And unlike many other single-coils and humbuckers, the Lollar gold foils did not devolve into mud when the tone pots were dialed down. Even with most of the treble rolled off, both the neck and bridge pickups continued to deliver ear-worthy sounds.
The coil of a Lollar gold foil is wound around a rubberized ferrite bar magnet with 44-gauge wire and has two holes for riveting to the metal base. The base plate is flat with no protruding pole pieces or magnets. The result is an amazingly low profile (0.375″ tall overall) that will fit a lot instruments where nothing else will work. The test gold foils were mounted with the ears of the mount beneath a recut Strat pickguard, but it became apparent that a humbucker-sized route wasn’t necessary. Lollar Gold Foil pickups should fit well without additional routing in any guitar where the pickups are mounted in the pickguard. They are a great retrofit option for players chasing a new tone, and builders should take note that they would be really interesting on retro-style guitar designs. In addition to offering the option of nickel, chrome, and gold covers in the standard mount, Lollar also has a flush-mount option that should work well on archtop jazz boxes.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
In the 1970s, great guitar-pickup winders began wrapping extra wire on humbuckers, touting the resultant higher output and greater low-end response. Though this approach to pickup construction makes it easier to “overdrive” certain amps, most neck pickups that were given this overwinding sounded muddy, and most such bridge pickups were lacking jangle or twang. In response, Reilander pickups developed its own lines of ’buckers with more modest, vintage-accurate specs.
One of these lines, the Muckbucker, ships in a set with resistance measurements in the upper 6k-ohm for the bridge and mid 6k for the neck. The coils use 42-AWG polycoated wire, Alnico II magnets, and short legs that make them compatible with both Gibson- and Fender-style guitars. They can be ordered with or without covers, and with various wiring options. Wiring the Muckbuckers in a Les Paul was simple thanks to their two-conductor leads. The included mounting springs and screws were also helpful – Reilander uses larger screws with its short-leg models.
Running through a Fender Deluxe Reverb and a Vox AC15, the neck pickup was clear, articulate, and fat, but not tubby. This is difficult to accomplish, as a pickup with too many winds tends to sound either anemic tone, devoid of mids or any sense of strength, or too hot, pushing to breakup without requiring the player to roll back the Tone control.
The Muckbucker bridge pickup was also a treat. Although firmly in the tonal range of a humbucker, it had clarity and jangle, along with a good dollop of midrange that made it very versatile. Because of their clarity and lower output, either pickup would be an excellent bridge ’bucker in a Strat or neck pickup in a Tele. And owing to their sensible output, both worked well with a variety of effects – even a vintage Dyna Comp didn’t need the compression turned to near zero.
While many winders name their pickups after song titles or the nicknames of famous guitarists, Reilander simply winds great-sounding pickups suitable for a variety of styles. And, as the Muckbucker name implies, they will dispatch the tubby low-end of a Gibson-style instrument.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
With their first offering, Benjamin Harrison and Chrystal Gilles of SynapticGroove set out to fill the gap between heavy effects users and straight-into-the-amp players. Apparently, they’re on to something. They can already count Peter Stroud (Sheryl Crow), Richard Fortus (Guns N’ Roses), and Dan Boul (65amps) among fans of their Snapperhead Overdrive/Distortion.
Lightweight, powdercoated, and relic’d, the true-bypass analog Snapperhead showcases the SynapticGroove design philosophy, borrowed from Charles Mingus: “Making the simple complicated is commonplace; making the complicated simple, awesomely simple, that’s creativity.” The pedal takes up very little space, and its simple layout comprises Level and Drive knobs, a 9-volt input, and In/Out jacks. A rapid-fire tricolor LED, while a nice cosmetic touch, alerts the user of a low battery by ceasing to fluctuate. While its lack of a tone control exposes an amp’s bad qualities as well its good, according to the manufacturers, the pedal is a tool for guitarists seeking to drive their amplifier, not color it. “With the right guitar and amp, an effects pedal is merely an intermediary,” Harrison explains.
Tested with an assortment of Strat- and Les Paul-style guitars, and a variety of combo amps and high-gain signature heads, the Snapperhead revealed that it definitely comes from the hairy side of the street – even with the Drive knob lowered, it has a fuzz-like quality. At higher drive levels, the dirt increases with a raw but focused grittiness.
Even with the Snapperhead’s grainy parameters, it exhibited plenty of variation. Dialing the Drive knob clockwise, light breakup gave way first to gravelly crunch and eventually to full-on furbearing saturation. At higher settings, it offered just enough compression to hold it all together, and punching out of a dense band mix was no problem. Notes popped with sensitivity to the guitar’s volume control and to picking dynamics. And despite the pedal’s lack of tonal range, chords and single notes had great definition and organic flavor.
The Snapperhead Overdrive/Distortion mirrors the amp and adds raspy overtones more suited to dirty rock than liquid metal or fusion. It also lends a slight treble boost that falls somewhere between ’70s fuzzy Brit rock and uncivilized but slightly fine-tuned American punk and garage. Those looking for a smooth, warm overdrive with a slight bump in midrange for fluid single-note soloing should avoid the Snapperhead. However, for those looking to replicate the classic sound of a woolly amp pushed to the brink, but at manageable volume with no sweeteners, the Snapperhead might be the perfect “intermediary” to which Harrison alludes.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Some guitarists are happy with conventional guitars and basses. Others, however, feel the urge to explore other sonic ranges. In recent years, several new configurations have made their way to the market; five- and six-string basses; extended-range harp and “touch” guitars; and seven- and eight-string solidbodies that transport metallers to pure shred bliss. Never one to be left behind, Taylor offers their premium Baritone-8 acoustic.
The Baritone-8 is an interesting concept intended primarily for the solo guitarist. The basic skinny on this single-cutaway instrument is that it’s a baritone-scaled acoustic with an upper-octave string paired with both the third and fourth strings as on a 12-string guitar. The logic behind it sounds like a head-scratcher until one actually picks up the Baritone-8 and gives it a few strums. That’s when the ah-ha! moment strikes and the light bulb goes on. But even before that first strum, the details and construction of the Baritone-8 are bound to draw the player’s attention.
The Baritone-8, which falls under Taylor’s Grand Symphony shape and dimensions, has Indian rosewood back and sides with a Sitka spruce top that supports baritone bracing beneath to deal with the extra tension and bigger strings. Being a bari, the guitar has a scale length of 27″ and 19 frets, while the rosewood fingerboard caps a mahogany neck with a nut width of 1.75″. In a series of handsome appointments, the headstock has an overlay of Indian rosewood and sports an inlaid mother-of-pearl Taylor logo, a truss-rod cover, and eight gold Taylor tuners. In addition, there are diamond fretboard inlays, a fancy abalone rosette, and ebony bridge pins with abalone dots. Rosewood lovers will also dig the deeply figured grain on the back and sides.
For electronics, the Baritone-8 offers Taylor’s Expression system, which has a 1/4″ input jack and 9-volt battery compartment at the end pin, and three cleanly designed knobs on the upper bout for Volume, Bass, and Treble. The magnetic pickup delivers a warm, pleasing acoustic sound. Why more acoustic guitarists don’t use magnetic pickups is a mystery – they’re arguably superior to piezo technology and usually sound nice and warm, but that’s an argument for another day.
Upon picking up the Baritone-8, the most immediately noticeable feature is the aforementioned longer-scaled neck. After it’s played for a while, however, it proves (perhaps somewhat surprisingly) to be incredibly comfortable. This guitar is also set up beautifully and quite fast. It’s almost a wonder that a 27″ neck can play with such low action and speed. Yet it does – this is a truly great acoustic neck.
Dig a little deeper into the Baritone-8, and more of its genius emerges. The ringing pairs of strings add a 12-string effect, but they don’t encumber the shreddability of the first and second strings or the bass dimension of the fifth and sixth (because the guitar is normally tuned B to B, the string pitches can be adjusted in the player’s head. However, it can still be played exactly like a guitar in standard tuning, and it leaves open the options for any open tunings, too).
The Baritone-8 was tested at an acoustic gig and it killed with some flatpicked flamenco-style solos. The bass notes spun up the drama, while the paired strings created the magical chime. The finale included shredding all over the neck, inducing pure flamenco glory, much to the audience’s delight. Of course, many players attracted to the Baritone-8 will be ethereal fingerpickers and tappers of the Michael Hedges or Andy McKee school; it’s easy to see how the guitar’s extended baritone range will delight them.
In all, the Taylor Baritone-8 may seem like a bit of an oddball guitar, but such judgments should definitely be reserved until the would-be judge has tried one out. The incredibly constructed Baritone-8 is not inexpensive, but once its advantages become apparent, it might be difficult indeed to resist this guitar’s “extended” charms.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Roger Giffin is a guitarmaker to the stars, having built for Eric Clapton, Pete Townshend and John Entwistle, Mark Knopfler, Andy Summers, David Gilmour, and many others. He also ran the Gibson Custom Shop in California for many years before striking out on his own. Now producing his own models under the name Giffin Guitars. Giffin’s latest is the Vikta, a classy axe with more than a few familiar appointments.
A single-cutaway guitar with a pleasing look, the Vikta is a straightforward rock-and-roll machine. Our test guitar had a maple neck, solid alder body, and 22-fret rosewood fingerboard with a 24.625″ scale and 12″ radius. Its 7.4-pound body had a flat top and no binding, and DiMarzio P-90 pickups. Other details included abalone “vertical line” inlays along the top of the fingerboard, nickel Sperzel tuners, a Graphtech Tusq nut, five-ply pickguard, two knobs for Volume and a master Tone, and a TonePros AVT wraparound bridge.
In the hand, the Vikta has a nice, beefy neck that brings to mind Gibson necks of the ’50s. Plugged into a small combo, it rocks as you’d hope, P-90s delivering feisty attitude, singing tones, ample sustain, and snarl for everything from Chuck Berry to the Faces to the Black Crowes. The guitar had an immaculate setup and great resonance, though the control configuration – with the knob closest to the pickups wired as neck Volume, bridge Volume below it – requires a bit of reorientation, as does the proximity of the three-way pickup toggle, which seems a little cramped at first.
The bottom line on the Vikta, though, is that this is a kick-ass rock slab that’ll sound great through small combo amps or raging half-stacks. If you dig vintage Gibson Les Paul Specials and Juniors, consider this plank. It takes the best qualities of those classics and ports them into a modern design that exudes craftsmanship and design ideas.
This article originally appeared in VG December 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Railhammer’s new Bob Balch signature pickup is based on the company’s Chisel model, but has a brass cover and brass baseplate, which reduce output and treble response slightly while enhancing overall midrange.
“The result is a thick tone with clarity that cuts through even with heavy fuzz, and is warm and articulate in clean settings,” said Railhammer’s Joe Naylor. The neck version has reduced output for increased clarity and tone/volume balance with the bridge. Railhammer pickups offer universal spacing, four-conductor wiring with independent ground, and height-tapered rails. Go to www.railhammer.com.
Monster has released new versions of its Rock, Bass, and Acoustic cables. The Rock cable is tuned to enhance the attack of a solidbody guitar with a coaxial design featuring a multi-gauge wire networks to maximize a guitar’s tone and sonic bite. The Bass cable uses solid-core conductor for power, definition, and punch to better define notes. The Acoustic cable has “Bandwidth Balanced” construction to phase-align the signal for more-natural reproduction of the frequencies in acoustic and hollowbody instruments. Monster’s custom-designed connectors have a collet strain relief that clamps on their Duraflex jacket. Learn more at www.monsterproducts.com.
Isaak working on his new album at Sun Studios, surrounded by images – and the vibe – of some of his most vital musical heroes.
Most pop-music fans became aware of Chris Isaak through his 1991 hit “Wicked Game” and its uber-high-profile video, directed by famed photographer Herb Ritts and featuring the singer/guitarist gettin’ all From Here to Eternity with supermodel Helena Christensen. Musically, the moody track – with Calvin Wilsey’s memorable reverb-infused guitar lick – not only put Isaak on the pop-music map, but kept him there perpetually via “appearances” in film and on TV programs and commercials. With its basic, brushed-snare-drum beat, laid-back melody, clean single-note/arpeggiated-chord guitar solo (rendered via Fender Stratocaster and a blackface amp with reverb), and classic torch vocals, the song had a deep throwback feel. But for Isaak, it was simply true to form, and reflected the deep influence of early rock-and-roll performers, many of whom emerged from Sam Phillips’ Sun Studios in the 1950s. Isaak’s new album, Beyond the Sun, moves from being simply influenced by his predecessors to a straight-up tribute, spurred by a comment Phillips made in an interview more than a decade ago. Asked by Oxford American if any contemporary recording artists grabbed his attention, Phillips replied, “I don’t keep up with the business like I used to. But I love to listen to Chris Isaak. He’s very talented, and his music is so damned honest. It’s incredible.” Isaak was blown away by such praise from a man he idolized, and he calls Beyond the Sun – which was recorded at Sun – a “labor of love.” The affection traces to his childhood, when he and his brother became obsessed with music being made by Phillips and the artists he mentored. Isaak took the phone call from VG as he ran through a few chords on a guitar. The first question was obvious…
What are you strumming on?
Ummm, it’s a “Los Lauriars” or something – a half-size guitar a little bigger than a baritone ukulele… nylon-string. I got it years ago when I traveled all the time, and I’d put it in the overhead or in the back of the van or whatever. I actually have a nicer one now – a half-pint version of a Gibson J-200 made in the ’60s. The J-200 I play onstage has my name across the top in mother of toilet seat (pearloid), and I wanted the little guitar to have the same thing – they look like father and son! Lefty Frissell did something like that, but on a pink pickguard, which was really cool. I want to do that sometime. And I’ve seen a version of Johnny Cash inlaid on the neck, but I’d never fool with the neck. When they put me in a box or something, then somebody can pry my letters off and keep playing (laughs)!
Beyond The Sun is an ode to some of the music you heard as a child, much of which was recorded at Sun Records in Memphis. What prompted you?
The songs I picked were all by artists who got their start at Sun, recording for Sam Phillips, the famed producer who worked with Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis… He also recorded guys like B.B. King and Howlin’ Wolf. That’s a great bunch to pick from, and on the album I do some songs they recorded at Sun and some stuff they did later, like Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Great Balls of Fire” and later Elvis stuff like “It’s Now or Never.” Some people don’t know it, but Sun is really a simple studio. Like you walk in and the first 10 feet is a room to keep the sound off the street; that’s the office. Then there’s another door, and then there’s like a 25-by-20 room with a high ceiling – that’s the studio. And in the back is a little room just big enough to swing a cat – that’s the control room. It’s just awesome.
What do you recall about your earliest exposure to music?
I remember as a kid, my older brother putting records on our player – one of those that looked like a little suitcase, with two little speakers about the size of a Kleenex box. It was funky-sounding, but we thought we were very hi-fi, because it played in stereo! My brother would put on Jerry Lee Lewis rock-and-roll songs before we went to school. My parents had a great record collection – Johnny Cash, a bunch of Elvis. In fact, the first thing I did when I finished this record was take a mock-up of the artwork, put the album inside, and take it to my parents, because it was a thank-you to them. They never said to me, “Hey, get a real job.” Maybe because we came from a funky enough background – we didn’t have connections or money or anything like that, so it wasn’t like we were gonna go downhill! It wasn’t like, “Why aren’t you going to be a lawyer like your father?” It was like “Hey, good for you, you’re staying out of jail…” (laughs)!
Nowhere to go but up?
You know, I think my parents were really proud that I went to college, got a scholarship, and was boxing as a light heavyweight for Aoyama Gakuin University, in Tokyo. When I was over there, I discovered another Sun sessions album; I went, “This what I want to do. I want to sing.” I didn’t know at the time, if you had asked me, “Are you gonna become famous? Are you gonna travel the world?,” I would have looked at you like, “Uh, yeahhh.”
Isaak early in his career with his Silvertone model 1384 guitar (and 1484 amp in the background).
Were you comfortable with your singing voice?
It wasn’t a matter if I thought I was good or not. It was more like… (chuckles) it was like sex; it didn’t matter, it was just so much fun. And I’d sing all the time. Actually, my older brother was better; people would always say, “You can sing good, but your brother really can sing.” So it was competitive, you know?
What about guitars?
My first guitar was a Checkmate, and I remember it well; it was a really cheesy nylon-string, and on the headstock was a piece of metal, stamped and screwed on – it looked like the knight chess piece. I had that guitar for years, then after I got a better one, I lent it to my friend, Anthony Franks. He was a great guy, but he lost it! I went, “Lesson learned.” Never lend a guitar. You lend it, it’s gone. Anthony’s a great guy, and a straight arrow.
Has he been apologizing ever since?
Nah. We were kids. You borrow stuff and people move, things change.
What was your next guitar?
I graduated to a much better guitar – a Silvertone! I got the hollowbody one, which I still have. It came with futuristic-looking pickups, a single cutaway, not real big and fat… it’s kind of like the precursor to the Gretsch 6120. I went, “Wow! Now I’m getting professional.”
How old were you at the time?
Probably 19.
What kind of music were you playing?
Well, on guitar, it was funny because… You know, I always loved this music and really, it’s easy for me to sing that style – it comes naturally. And later, when I read about the people those Sun Records artists were listening to at the time, in some odd way they were the same ones I listened to growing up – Hank Williams, Earnest Tubb, Gene Autry – guys from three generations back. And later, when I heard Jerry Lee Lewis, I’d go, “I hear some Gene Autry in it.” Or I’d hear a song by Elvis and go, “Oh, that’s a Hank Snow song.” When I started out, I thought, “Man, if I could be as big as Hank Snow…” I still wish I could be as good as Hank Snow or Lefty Frissell. Then, when I heard Elvis from his Sun sessions, I went, “Wow! This put a little more youth into Hank’s stuff.” It had a little more kick – took it off the farm and brought it to the city a little. And then there’s the guitar playing by Scotty Moore, who I believe should get paid for every record. Without Scotty Moore, we’d all be sweeping streets (laughs)!
All of your Sun heroes had heavy-hitter guitar players. Do you have favorites amongst them?
Oh, yeah. For example, my favorite guitar players ever were represented very well on Beyond The Sun. Scotty Moore, of course, who you just can’t give enough credit to – without Scotty, you might not have Sam Phillips. What if Elvis had walked into a different studio with different people – maybe somewhere that wouldn’t have seen the talent and maybe said, “Hey, let’s put a string section behind this kid and we’ll have a Southern Dean Martin.” And they would have cut two or three albums, maybe had a regional hit. You know what I mean? But when you add Scotty Moore with all those riffs, it was obviously something new. Scotty’s a big part of it. Elvis was part of a band, it wasn’t just him. He had a great producer and a great guitar player. I don’t know what the odds are for that. I’ve been lucky, and I’ll take my life over Elvis’. I’ve lived longer, I’ve had great friends, and my band is great – I’ve been with them for 26 years and they’re really fun guys. But when a guy walks into a studio and the first guy you see says, “Here’s your producer, Sam Phillips. Here’s your guitar player, Scotty Moore. Bill Black on bass.” You just go, “Huh?!” That’s what you call lightning striking.
A whole lotta luck.
All at one time!
Luther Perkins and Johnny Cash had a similar story…
Oh, I love Luther Perkins (sings “I’m all alone, alone and blue. I’ve go no one to tell my troubles to.”) And all of a sudden he stops the instruments and goes, “Key of A, Luther.” I’m dying! And there’s another one for Sam Phillips; so many guys would have walked in with that and said, “We want the singer, but let’s use our session guys.” And we would’ve lost the coolness of his sound. I mean, his records are so cool because they’re so simple. There was another great player represented on this record, and he actually sat in and gave us some insight on some of the songs – Roland Janes. It was so much fun to hang with him; he’s hilarious – a gentleman and a really nice guy. He played on all those Jerry Lee Lewis records; think about being the guitar player with Jerry Lee Lewis – maybe the world’s best piano player. That’s a hard road, you know what I mean? Yet, he doesn’t have a bit of ego in him. He’s smart, and his choices on the guitar are like (sighs)… My god! I was talking to James Burton, and I said, “James, why don’t you teach me somethin’?” He goes, “I’ll teach ya somethin’. When in doubt, play out,” (laughs)! And it’s hilarious, but it’s true. And Roland is the guy who has enough ego control that he doesn’t start endlessly noodling. He lets the song breathe. And he plays understated. Yet you listen to him play, and there’s such passion. It’s so perfect. And nobody sounds like him. Man, he plays some stuff. I told Hershel Yatovitz, my guitar player, who’s damn good, “I listen, but I can’t figure out what he’s doing.” Hershel goes, “I can figure out what he’s doin’, but I can’t do it.” It’s his feel – so sophisticated it sounds simple. But it isn’t. Anyway, Roland was there. And when I introduced Hershel to him, I said, “Uh, Hershel… meet Roland Janes,” and his eyes went wide and he said, “Oh, my god. I’m sorry, but I’ve been hearing your name a million times – every time we play something, he goes, you gotta listen to Roland Janes.” And he was right – I’d always told him that!
You’ve worked with Hershel for what, 15 years?
A long time. I mean, since the Dead Sea was sick! He was clean-shaven when he started!
What does he bring to your music?
He is the man for the job in this band. Nobody could do what he does. If you think about what we do live; I might ask him one minute to play, “Forgot to Remember to Forget,” where he’ll be comping a part kind of like Scotty Moore, then I’ll ask him to play a part he made up, then I’ll ask him on the next song to be jammin’ on something we’re making up that night, then I’ll ask him to play something from a record we did 15 or 16 years ago. And they have a lot of different sounds. Most guitar players have one sound or thing, but Hershel can play a lot of styles, with lot of different sounds. He’s got his own style, which I like very much – it’s very pretty. He’s a pretty, melodic player. And he’s a good showman, too. On top of all that, if I tell Hershel, “I wrote this song, and I want to record it tomorrow. Can you come up with a part tonight?,” it’s done. But sometimes what blows my mind is, I’ll say, “Hey, listen to this record. What’s this guy playing? Can you learn that?” Twenty minutes later, he’ll play it for me, flawlessly. What might take me all night to learn, Hershel learns in 10 seconds. I played with Michelle Branch on this Buddy Holly special; I spent all night learning the riff for (sings) “Heartbeat, why do you….” And I wasn’t gonna play it, but I just wanted to see if I could learn it, right? It took me a long time; I’m a lousy guitar player. Well, I like to play rhythm, that’s my thing. I play leads a couple times a night because it’s so different. Anyway, it took me all night, but Hershel learned it in seconds.
Isaak with his preferred guitar – a Gibson J-200.
Then, at the show, Waddy Wachtel was the guitar player that night, and Waddy and I played together – Waddy is so good. Anyway, we started to play and I said, “No, Waddy. Play it like the record.” And he goes, “Chris, I learned 20 songs today…” I go, “Wait, I know it.” And I played it for him, and I got lucky and played it right. That never happens (laughs)! When I finished, I looked around, because everybody in the band stopped while I was playing the riff, and Waddy’s listening; I said, “Did anybody film that? Me teaching Waddy Wachtel something.” He laughed. Really, though, I couldn’t carry one of his strings. He’s amazing.
Do you have a favorite guitar amongst those you play regularly?
Yeah, Gibson J-200. My house is like the Stevie Ray Vaughan video for “Cold Shot,” where his girlfriend would take his guitar away, but he’d pull out another one. There was a guitar behind the couch, behind the door, under the chair… The first time I saw that, I laughed and said, “That’s my house!” My ex used to say, “How come you got a guitar everywhere?” And I said, “You never know when you might want to play one!” (laughs). But the J-200 is ubiquitous. I don’t think there’s a finer guitar; Gibson guitars are my favorite, by far. The acoustics… I’ve sang with Martins and they’re nice – they’re brighter – but a Gibson is warm from top to bottom, a big, full sound. To me, it’s just thrilling. I sit in my hallway or on the stairway because there’s good echo, and sing with the J-200. It’s like I’m in heaven.
How about electric guitars? Do you have any that you like better than others?
I played a little show once – I think it was for iTunes – where they said, “Bring a guitar.” I thought, “I’ll bring an electric.” So I brought a funky little Silvertone amp and a little echo box, with my blond ’56 Super 400 (laughs)! Talk about overkill! People are looking at me like, “Uh huh… That’s a nice guitar.” I go, “Yes, it is. You have no idea!” Some people think you shouldn’t play that sort of stuff outside the house. But you know, I’m never going to sell this stuff. And it only comes out boots first!
How many ’50s and ’60s guitars do you have?
My guitar collection isn’t that big, money-wise. I’m not somebody who has them all lined up goes, “This is my blond ’49, this is my…” They’re not all organized and they’re not all perfect. If you took all my guitars there’s probably not that expensive of a collection. ’Cause I’ll have guitars in there that… I’ve got a red Hagstrom from the ’60s. And it’s funky, but it’s a great sound for certain things. I’ve got an Italian guitar with a plastic body, and it’s got microphonic pickups. My bass player gave it to me; he said, “I know you like these kind of things.” It was kind of a joke, but of course I brought it to the studio and recorded with it and went, “Oh my god, it doesn’t sound like anything else you’ve heard. I like this!” Making the new album, Hershel was playing the Super 400 for a lot of the Scotty kind of stuff, and at one point we were playing an old blues tune and man, it sounded good. But it didn’t sound funky enough. But there was this little practice guitar laying in the studio that people would use to pose for pictures or write their name on. It had funky strings, it wasn’t intonated very well, and the nut was rattling and everything else. I said, “Play this track on that one.” He picked it up and he goes, “But it’s out of tune, and it rattles.” I go, “Perfect!” And of course, because his playing is so good and that guitar was so bad, together it sounds like all those blues guys. Those guys were playing million-dollar riffs on $20 guitars! Me, not being that great a player, I’ll take a great guitar like the Gibsons. Plus, when you’re at home playing a Hagstrom and it slips out of tune, it’s no big deal. You just tune it and keep going. But when you’re onstage… that’s a problem. There’s a reason I’m playing a Gibson through a Fender blackface Twin. It’s like driving a Chevy – you can get parts anywhere, and it always starts. And I always liked Gretsch guitars, but onstage, they didn’t hold up as well for me.
They keep you a little busier…
Yes. Brian Setzer gave me a Gretsch, it was just beautiful – and what a class act he is. I’ll never play it as good as he does, but he cracked me up because he’s so into it – such a guitarhead, and motorhead. He said, “Yeah, these are good ones because the top of this guitar is only this thick, they used to make them thicker, but this one’s thin.” I’m goin’, “Yeah, okay… It’s red!” (laughs) and I like it. It sure is nice, Brian!
This article originally appeared in VG January 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Railhammer’s new Bob Balch signature pickup is based on the company’s Chisel model, but has a brass cover and brass baseplate, which reduce output and treble response slightly while enhancing overall midrange.
for increased clarity and tone/volume balance with the bridge. Railhammer pickups offer universal spacing, four-conductor wiring with independent ground, and height-tapered rails. Go to www.railhammer.com.
Monster has released new versions of its Rock, Bass, and Acoustic cables. The Rock cable is tuned to enhance the attack of a solidbody guitar with a coaxial design featuring a multi-gauge wire networks to maximize a guitar’s tone and sonic bite. The Bass cable uses solid-core conductor for power, definition, and punch to better define notes. The Acoustic cable has “Bandwidth Balanced” construction to phase-align the signal for more-natural reproduction of the frequencies in acoustic and hollowbody instruments. Monster’s custom-designed connectors have a collet strain relief that clamps on their Duraflex jacket. Learn more at www.monsterproducts.com.
