In the new episode of “Have Guitar Will Travel,” host James Patrick Regan speaks with the legendary Mike Varney, founder of Shrapnel Records. After discovering Yngwie Malmsteen in a record store, Mike started Shrapnel when he was just 22 years old. The label became home for a bevy of shredders in the ’80s, including guitar heroes like Leslie West, Rick Derringer, Pat Travers, and Michael Schenker. He digs deep into the philosophy that has made Shrapnel so successful under his guidance, explains why he’s so fond of Gibson and Epiphone guitars, and gets into his recent work with Gravity Amplifiers.
Have Guitar Will Travel, hosted by James Patrick Regan, otherwise known as Jimmy from the Deadlies, is presented by Vintage Guitar magazine, the destination for guitar enthusiasts. Podcast episodes feature guitar players, builders, dealers and more – all with great experiences to share! Find all podcasts at www.vintageguitar.com/category/podcasts.
By any standard, Pink Floyd has one of the mightiest catalogs in rock and roll – a 14-album pantheon dating from 1967 to ’94 that has few rivals. Every so often, EMI remasters the batch with fresh sonics, and the latest round gives Floydheads serious reason to rejoice.
The big news is what’s being called the “Immersion” and “Experience” editions of Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and The Wall (the latter being released as a seven-CD/DVD set). The Immersion sets are expensive, multi-disc sets with CDs, books, new artwork, and swag, but cooler are the Experience sets, which are expanded two-CD editions. Every other disc in the Floyd catalog is being reissued as single “Discovery” discs that are simply remastered.
Dark Side and Wish You Were Here each include a second disc of concert material from ’74 at London’s old Wembley Stadium. This is significant because Pink Floyd is just about the only major band from the ’70s that never released a live album in its golden era. Therefore, a vintage recording of Floyd playing Dark Side in its entirety, as well as various tracks from Wish You Were Here, are almost revelatory – a veritable rock-and-roll Holy Grail. In addition, Floyd regularly auditioned new songs in concert. For example, you can hear fledglings like “Raving and Drooling” and “You Gotta Be Crazy,” which wouldn’t appear until the Animals album three years later – after that they became know more famously as the classics “Sheep” and “Dogs.”
While these are the band’s best-selling albums, Floydophiles will say these are merely the tip of the iceberg. For starters, you can’t really talk about psychedelic guitar without including 1967’s The Piper at the Gates of Dawn and 1969’s Ummagumma. The former is quintessential British psychedelia, with the late, great Syd Barrett (VG, April ’10) on guitar, a trailblazer whose echo-laced riffs provided a dark counterpart to the Beatles’ upbeat Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band, which was recorded at Abbey Road just a few months earlier. Granted, these are stereo remasters and Floyd snobs often insist on the original mono mixes, but if you’re new to Piper, either will suffice. It’s one of the greatest rock albums of the ’60s.
Ummagumma, meanwhile, is a two-CD album that’s half live and half studio. The studio half offers rather pretentious solo tracks from each member of the band, but the live disc is stunning. Featuring new guitarist David Gilmour (who replaced the acid-casualty Barrett), this platter captures heavenly doses of psychedelia on tracks like “Astronomy Domine,” “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun,” and “Careful with that Axe, Eugene.” Rarely will you find better – or trippier – ’60s guitar.
Another subset of early Floyd are their soundtracks to French art-house films like More (’69) and Obscured by Clouds (’72). Of the two, More is beloved for superb Floyd tracks like “The Nile Song,” an uptempo rocker featuring heavy riffing and Strat solos from Gilmour, and the stunning ballad “Cymbaline.” The band had a major breakthrough in ’71 with Meddle, an album that saw it dispense with the psychedelic sound and finally crafting the modern, precise Pink Floyd sound. The record kicks off with a dueling electric-bass figure from chief songwriter Roger Waters and Gilmour on “One of These Days,” before Rick Wright lays in some echoey keyboard stabs and the guitarist assaults listeners with the most ferocious lap-steel riffs ever committed to vinyl. You can point to this pivotal instrumental and say the ’70s Pink Floyd sound began right here. It’s a seismic moment.
Throughout this remastered Floyd catalog, of course, you can find legendary guitar and bass work from Gilmour, Waters, and Barrett, all etched in spectacular fidelity by engineer James Guthrie, who also co-produced The Wall. Take your pick; “Time,” “Comfortably Numb,” “Lucifer Sam,” “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” “Echoes,” “High Hopes,” and other tracks that capture the band’s elusive, ethereal guitar magic. The one debit in the series is the lack of an Experience set for Animals, the quartet’s 1977 masterwork. Enough concert material exists in bootleg form for a second CD, but it hasn’t yet seen the light of day. Regardless, there’s never been a better time to indulge in a six-string head trip through the universe of Pink Floyd. Climb aboard and enjoy this trip to the dark side of the moon.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
6’2″/300-pound Phil “Big Dez” Fernandez is an international emissary of the blues. The French-born son of a Bosnian mother and Spanish father is a favorite at European blues clubs and festivals, and Lazy Star is the latest of five CDs that have helped him build an ever-growing fan base in the United States. The U.S. is one of several far-flung countries through which the blues express known as Big Dez will roll through in 2012.
The label “international” fits you personally as well as professionally, doesn’t it?
Well, I was born in France, but my wife is Dutch, my kid is Dutch, and my home is in Amsterdam. In Paris, I stay at my mother’s house, where all my guitars are. It’s only three hours from Amsterdam by train, so it’s like nothing.
When did your interest in blues begin?
When I was a kid, I discovered the blues from all these English people – the Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck. When I was 13 and starting to play guitar, I discovered my heroes, B.B. King, Freddie King, and Albert King. All the roots were from the United States. I saw B.B. King the first time when I was 15, and fell in love even more with African-American blues.
You’ve spent a lot of time in Chicago and Texas, Austin in particular. When did you first visit the U. S.?
Twelve years ago, I went to visit and play with some French friends. Then I got the idea to bring the band and record in the States. I’ve always thought that if you are in America and want to open a French restaurant, you must go to France and study. If you play blues and rock-and-roll, you have to go to the United States. I like America a lot. All the music I like is from there. The three past albums were made in Austin and in Jamestown, Missouri.
Do the French differ from Americans in their definition of what is “real” blues?
In France they want to say, “This is a blues band, this is a blues/rock band, etc.” For me, it doesn’t matter, blues is everywhere. I have always enjoyed African-American music like blues and rock-and-roll from Chuck Berry to James Brown. I’ve been through several jobs and about 10 years ago decided to become a professional musician. It’s not so easy, especially if you want to play only blues and rock.
Is there more opportunity to make a living playing music in Europe than there is in the U.S.?
Yes. In France, if you can prove you worked the whole year and you got gigs and you paid taxes, then they give you a subsidy. Every time I explain this to the American musicians, they don’t believe me. They say ‘What? You play and they give you money!?’ I would love to make more money, but I’m not complaining. My father worked 40 years in construction, so I know there are some really heavy jobs.
Did your parents support your decision to become a professional musician?
They were kind of worried because I moved to Austin and quit my job. I was working at a home-improvement store and playing on weekends, and I was really tired. Then I went to America for three months or so ’til my visa was up. I went back to France and that first year they helped me a lot.
You’ve managed to gather an impressive collection of guitars and amps in a short time.
Since I quit drinking and smoking, all the money I used to spend drinking and going out, I’m spending on guitars. I was a Fender Strat guy forever, but since the last CD, I have been turning more to Gibson and my Les Paul. I bought my first Strat in Chicago in ’97 when I was 21. I went for holiday and I spent all my money on one guitar – $3,000 for a ’61 Strat. I used that guitar a lot and then quit for many years. On the last CD, I used a ’57 sunburst Strat, a sunburst ’61 Strat, and a ’53 Les Paul goldtop with P-90s I bought a few months ago.
What makes you decide when to use a particular guitar?
If you spend a lot of time with the Strat, you can get almost every sound you want. Not so with the Les Paul. I’m playing a lot more rhythm on the new CD, so I’m playing the Les Paul and a ’56 Les Paul Junior with a P-90. I run a jam session in Paris every Sunday and sometimes I bring my ’57 Strat or my ’61 Strat or whatever and my friends say, ‘You’re crazy!’ I say to leave it under the bed or to just put it on the wall is a shame. I want to play these guitars! On Lazy Star, I used almost all of the guitars in my collection.
Is it easier than it used to be to get good American–made guitars in Europe?
I’ve never bought a guitar in Europe. There are a lot of good guitars here, especially in Germany, but they’re very expensive. I’m really a Fender and Gibson guy. I’m not a jazz manouche [Gypsy jazz or Gypsy swing] player, but I know there are good guitars for jazz manouche here, like Selmer like Django Reinhardt used to play. Vincenzo Jacobacci also used to make a really good guitar for jazz and blues.
Can you tell by listening if a musician is American or European?
Not anymore. Not in 2012. But African-American blues singers are still unique.
What qualities do you find more of in American musicians than those from Europe?
Well, maybe more courage to keep doing this as a main job, because in the U.S. it’s really tough to make a living as a musician.
What about European musicians versus American musicians?
We cook better!
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
If restoring dusty, neglected old tube amps built more than half a century ago isn’t challenging enough, restoring amps with delicate built-in tape-echo units, no fixed schematic, and quirky hand-wired “rat’s nest” circuitry should drive any level-headed tech insane. Regardless, Frank Roy of Toronto, Ontario, says “Bring ’em on!”
Roy, a trained IT professional – and Telecaster player – has been restoring vintage electronics since the late ’80s. Lately, though, he has made a specialty of bringing rare and highly valued Ray Butts EchoSonic amplifiers back to life, both electronically and cosmetically.
Ten of the 11 tubes in the EchoSonic, on the crowded underside of the chassis, alongside two multi-section capacitor cans and a large power transformer.
“Ray was a genius of our time,” Roy enthuses. “He helped pioneer the sound that eventually led to the next 50 years of mainstream rock music.” History maker or not, Butts’ amplifiers offer plenty to drive the less well-grounded repairman batty. “The amps run very hot, so tube failures are somewhat common, and some power transformers have failed… [and] the tape transport needs constant maintenance. The motor bearings and wheels need to be oiled, the tape loop needs to be replaced regularly, and the tape heads and contact points need to be demagnetized from having been in contact with the magnetic tape. As well, the pinch rollers and idler wheels almost always need to be replaced as the rubber hardens and develops wear over time…” In other words, he has his hand full!
To compound matters, however, learning the art of EchoSonic restoration isn’t simply a matter of boning up on Butts’ design – or, the question would be, which design? “Each EchoSonic is almost unique, as Ray would often work with the customer to achieve, if desired, a specific sound,” says Roy. “Over time, we see alterations such as slight variations in some component values, changes in transformer orientation, tape-head mounting modifications, adjustments to the tape head circuitry… But [EchoSonic amps] are exceedingly rare, as only a dozen or so of them still exist today from the 68 ever built, and I have not seen them all.”
The control panel of this EchoSonic chassis cleaned up beautifully once it was out of the cabinet, with the knobs removed.
Despite being a seemingly simple amplifier based around a pair of 6L6 output tubes (6V6s in some early models), Roy notes that the EchoSonic was never just a generic amp with a tape-echo tacked on, and there are several quirks to Butts’ circuit. The chassis carries 11 tubes, six of which are dual-function, and the deceptively simple single tone control (marked “Bass|Treble”), rather than being the passive treble-bleed network familiar from most early amps, taps an interactive Baxandall-style tone stack that genuinely emphasizes bass when turned left, and treble when turned right. The wiring itself is extremely meticulous, too, entirely point-to-point, and includes top-quality components throughout, though to the uninitiated it can look like a tangled web.
To the uninitiated, Ray Butts’ circuit may appear a veritable rat’s nest, but it is solidly wired, with high quality components.
In addition to the amplifier circuitry, the EchoSonic’s tape delay mechanism was a minor electromechanical wonder of its day, though the application here does present its own difficulties. “The practicality of having a magnetic tape echo device built into such a compact medium had inherent space limitations, which affects the device. Magnetic tape starts to degrade after a certain amount of use, and in the case of a tape loop, the smaller it is, the faster it wears out.” Squeezing all this echo into such a small space required a short loop, and therefore, frequent tape changes.
So, such thorough detailing and repair of an ailing EchoSonic constitutes plenty of hassle just to get a dusty old tube-powered suitcase rolling again – but look at it as breathing new life into the original sound of rock and roll, and it is clearly worth the effort.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
In the January and February installments, we looked at Gibson’s Thunderbird, an instrument condemned by its maker to a quick demise only to be reborn due to late-blooming popularity. Another early bass represents a flipside to that tale – one that was in production for years before becoming a major success.
Most players today are familiar with the Rickenbacker Model 4001, which since the early ’70s has been one of the most popular basses. But few realize its roots reach back to the ’50s.
The modern Rickenbacker story begins in 1953, when F.C. Hall had been very involved in Leo Fender’s early success, as his company (Radio and Television Equipment Company, or Radio-Tel) handled the distribution of Leo’s products. Hall saw a profitable future in electric-guitar sales, but he and Leo had a strained relationship, so Hall looked into establishing a brand he could control. Adolph Rickenbacker’s small and nearly moribund steel-guitar-and-amplifier operation, dating to 1931, was an easy in to that end of the business, since the aging Adolph was eager to sell both the trade name and the factory.
After Hall purchased Rickenbacker, Leo felt he was competing with Fender while acting as a distributor. Leo and head Fender salesman Don Randall found the situation untenable, and in ’55, Hall was edged out of Fender. Still, with his own already-established brand and small (but experienced) production facility, Hall remained in position to exploit the growing market for electric instruments.
This included a still-unproven concept – the electric bass. Radio-Tel initially had the uphill job of marketing the Fender Precision, a revolutionary product, but hardly an instant success. And despite its slow start, Hall surely saw its potential. Still, it was several years before the newly reorganized Rickenbacker put forward a similar instrument (which even so, was not the company’s first bass). Rickenbacker briefly offered one of the very first electric basses; derived from the upright, the ’35 Rickenbacker bass had no acoustic body, just a fingerboard and pickup mounted to a cast-metal frame. It was not a market success, and disappeared before World War II. Seeing Fender’s growing sales of the guitar-like Precision, Hall no doubt encouraged his staff, including German-born luthier Roger Rossmeisel and factory manager Paul Barth, to devise a suitable design. What emerged was very different from not only the Fender, but anything else built at the time, with elements already used on some of company’s guitars combined in a novel way.
Introducing the Model 4000.
Introduced in the spring of ’57, the original Model 4000 is the ancestor of all subsequent Rick basses. It was the first long-scale challenger to the Fender Precision, a strikingly original design that still looks modern today. Rossmeisel is generally credited with the overall look, though Barth and Hall had input, as well. Beyond pure aesthetics, the Model 4000 has an unusually clear, high-fidelity sound that took years to emerge from muted, flatwound ’50s tonal expectations. In the ’70s, Rickenbacker billed the 4001 as “The instrument that moved the bass player to center stage” – in ’57, that was simply not a place bassists were expected to be!
Ready for success– the ’63 4001.
The Model 4000’s most important construction element was a solid neck-through-body centerpiece, with body and headstock sections glued to it – a method already in use on some Rickenbacker guitars. The extended neck had a 331/2″ scale, slightly shorter than Fender’s 34″. The body shape was described as “extreme cutaway,” making all frets accessible. Visually, the resulting curve was a radical step beyond Fender’s form-follows-function design. Much of the face of the body was covered by a large, gold-backed lucite pickguard shaped in a sweeping upward curve. At the other end of the neck, a large, sculpted headstock carried big Kluson upright tuners and a gold lucite logo plate. This headstock subtly mirrored the body shape – an elegant aesthetic touch. The center neck/body unit was initially carved from mahogany, then walnut was tried, and finally, maple, which by 1960 proved the hardiest material. This neck was reinforced with a novel double-truss-rod design, the work of engineer Paul Barth, who likely designed much of the hardware for the 4000. Some elements resurfaced on his ’59 design for Magnatone, the short-lived Mark VI Bass – the 4000’s only “relative.”
Compared to its radical body styling, the Model 4000’s electrical equipment was hardly novel. In fact, it was little changed from George Beauchamp’s original 1931 pickup design – a coil with large horseshoe magnets surrounding both it and the strings. Despite its venerable origins, this unit gave a rather direct hi-fi sound, described by Rickenbacker as “Uniform volume of true tone quality for all notes…” whatever that means! Oddly, this famously brightest-sounding of basses does not actually have a “treble” pickup – the horseshoe unit was mounted in a position similar to the pickup on Fender’s Precision. Between its natural brilliance and the instrument’s maple construction, the 4000 and subsequent models maintained a clear, crisp response without needing a pickup nearer the bridge.
Another feature with a slightly leftover feel was the bridge, built from the guitar unit, including the base plate with six string holes and six-string adjustable section, but only four saddles. Within months of its introduction, the Model 4000 received its first alteration – an adjustable mute. Mounted inside little clear plexiglass rails, the chrome bridge cover could be moved forward, pressing its foam mutes over the strings. It looked a little awkward, but worked fairly well. Fender’s bass had foam permanently attached under the bridge cover, and could be disengaged by removing (or on early basses, reversing) that piece. Rickenbacker’s was the first adjustable system, and perhaps indicates that initial response from players was that the 4000’s sound could use a toning down!
The 4000 in the ’59 catalog.
The 4000 was introduced with a full-page layout in Rickenbacker’s 1957 catalog and listed in the ’58 price list at $289.50 (plus $59.50 for a case). Historically, it’s the fourth important American bass, after the ’51 Fender Precision, ’52 Kay K-162, and ’53 Gibson EB-1, and by far the most expensive when new.
The Rick also felt fundamentally unlike any other bass. Easily the most abstract design of the group, its “neck-through” construction would eventually prove very influential. At the time, though, it was hardly a commercial success; the exact number shipped is open to debate, but was miniscule compared to the competition.
The Model 4000’s most visible initial user was James Kirkland, bassist in Ricky Nelson’s on-screen TV band. Rickenbacker secured an endorsement with the Nelson organization, so Kirkland and lead guitarist James Burton often appeared with the company’s instruments when Ricky did his musical numbers on the family’s TV show. Of course, in the recording studio, Burton played a Fender Telecaster, but this connection was Rickenbacker’s first exposure to a mass rock-and-roll audience, and a warm-up for the ’60s. Country star Jim Reeves’ band, the Blue Boys, endorsed Rickenbackers for a while and appeared with a specially made powder-blue set circa 1960. Buck Owens’ band reportedly were early testers, along with more-obscure acts like the Miller Brothers Western Dance Band. Generally, the first Rickenbacker basses appear to have primarily gone to acts that were using/endorsing a full Rick lineup, rather than bass players who selected them independently.
One oddity in this period’s Rickenbacker history is a relative dearth of promotional materials. Fender issued yearly catalogs in the ’60s and Gibson would come out with something every couple of years, but subsequent to the ’57 catalog, Rickenbacker used the same rather stingy one-leaf foldout from 1960 through ’68. This brochure was seriously out-of-date by the Beatles rush of ’64; not only were the guitars pictured no longer representative of the models being sold, but the bass was given only a small, half-tone illustration on the back. It’s little wonder few players were sold on the Rick bass – even the maker showed little interest!
Starting in ’61, the bass began to show structural evolution. The slab-sided body was slimmed and contoured, making it lighter and more comfortable. The chunky neck was also slimmed, and compact Kluson tuners added, allowing the headstock to be made smaller, as well. With these changes, the 4000 became sleeker and easier to handle. The new Fireglo sunburst finish became standard, with natural and solid color options available. Basses from ’62 have the lighter body with the long, gold pickguard covering most of the face, an extremely rare combination. By ’63, the pickguard was restyled into the now-familiar version, in white. This accompanied another noticeable change – a new cast-metal tailpiece replaced the old leftover guitar pieces. This large chrome-plated piece remains a distinctive feature today, though some players find it awkward. The casting incorporated the tailpiece – a separate, adjustable bridge drop-in and, in front, a new dial-up mute (conveniently using two of Rickenbacker’s proprietary strap buttons as dials). This was probably the most useful such period device, especially since the bridge design made palm-muting somewhat difficult.
The elaborate headstock on the 4000.
At the end of ’61, Rickenbacker took another big step on the bass ladder with the addition of the 4001. Even more visually striking, it was essentially a 4000 dressed with Rickenbacker’s deluxe guitar features – a checkerboard-bound top, bound neck, and large triangular fretboard inlays, plus a second pickup (a standard guitar “toaster-top” unit mounted close to the neck, not a specially designed bass pickup). A very few circa-’61 experimental single-pickup basses were built with deluxe features, but the idea was not followed up. The 4001 was the first high-end electric bass with this level of flash. Fender had introduced the two-pickup Jazz and Gibson followed with the EB-3, but neither carried the ornamentation of the 4001. But, was there a market for a bass that was flashier than most guitars – and more expensive than many?
Jim Reeves’ Rickenbacker blues.
The 4001 was first listed on the July ’62 price list at $389.50 – only $40 more than the 4000. The 4001 was cataloged only in Fireglo (though other colors exist) while the 4000 came in natural, as well. By the July ’64 price list, Rick’s bass prices had gone up; the Model 4000 to $377.50, the 4001 to a whopping $429.50, plus $59.50 for the proprietary silver case! By comparison, a custom-color Fender Jazz was $293.47, while Gibson’s new long scale/two-pickup Thunderbird IV could be had for $345. The 4001 was easily the most expensive four-string U.S.-made bass; only Ampeg’s British-made Wild Dog listed higher ($449.50), and as a result are so rare as to be almost unknown.
How many of these Rick basses were built, then? Production from this era is not fully documented. Richard Smith’s 1987 book, The Complete History of Rickenbacker Guitars, tabulates figures for the ’50s and ’60s, but Rickenbacker says the totals listed were based on incomplete information, with actual numbers being somewhat higher. Even allowing for that, production estimates for all Rickenbacker basses before ’64 are astoundingly low for such a well-known instrument – likely not more than a couple of hundred.
The sliding mute cover on the 4000.
A few features evolved into the mid ’60s; the square neck heel was rounded off, and the fancier 4001 gained silver-top knobs in ’64. One subtle variation is slightly different styles of horseshoe pickup flange, which often looked like leftover steel-guitar parts, anyway! By the end of ’63, the 4001 was recognizably modern.
With the combination of high prices, minimal promotion, and a lack of artist endorsements, the 4000 and 4001 were only very rarely seen with American players until the late ’60s. Roy Orbison’s Candymen used one on “The Ed Sullivan Show” in 1964. Before the British Invasion, to see a Rick guitar with a top act was a rarity – the basses were practically unknown. Given this relative lack of success, a large company like Gibson would likely have thrown in the towel on this expensive-to-produce design, but Rickenbacker persevered. Before ’64, Rickenbacker was still a small, specialized firm, supported by student- and steel-guitar sales while evolving its distinct professional line. They could afford to let their market develop, as indeed it did. When the Beatles phenomenon hit the U.S., Rickenbacker found itself holding a veritable tiger by the tail. Though it would be a slower process than with the 300 series guitars, the Rick bass would owe its eventual success to players “over the pond” in England, eventually becoming more popular than even F.C. Hall likely ever imagined.
Special thanks to John Teagle.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Ray Butts EchoSonic Preamp tubes: four 12AU7, two 12AY7, one 12AX7 (sub for original 12AD7), one 6C4 Output tubes: two 6L6 Rectifier: 5V4GA (or sub 5AR4 or 5U4) Controls: Mic Level, Inst Level (dry volume), Echo Level (echo volume), Echo Decay (repeats), Echo Input Level, Tone Speaker: 12″ University UC-121 Output: approximately 25 watts RMS
If you want to talk star-user ratio, the Ray Butts EchoSonic is near the top of the heap. Most accounts agree that fewer than 70 amps were ever made, yet owners among that modest number include Chet Atkins, Luther Perkins, Roy Orbison, Paul Yandell, Carl Perkins, and, the most celebrated in EchoSonic lore, Elvis Presley guitarist Scotty Moore. In short, in the mid ’50s, Butts’ baby made the sound of rock and roll – which has remained the sound of rockabilly, in particular, ever since – and at the dawn of this new musical genre, anyone who wanted to achieve it went to Ray Butts to get it.
The EchoSonic shown here, serial number 24, was originally sold to Paul Yandell, who played with the Louvin Brothers, Chet Atkins, Kitty Wells, and Jerry Reed. Scotty Moore bought it in the late ’80s or early ’90s as a backup for his original EchoSonic, and sold it only recently to guitarist Deke Dickerson, who still owns and uses it today. An illustrious history for one small, brown combo, but the EchoSonic’s lineage takes us even deeper into the beating heart of rock and roll.
Even before the first EchoSonic was born on Butts’ workbench, slapback echo was a key element of the rock-and-roll sound – and the early-’50s guitar sound in general – but prior to the creation of this amp, the sound was produced as a studio effect, one not easily transported to the performance stage. Butts, who owned a music store and repair shop in Cairo, Illinois, built the first EchoSonic for a local named Bill Gwaltney, who wanted to replicate Les Paul’s slapback sound in live performance. Using a 15-watt Gibson amp based around a pair of 6V6 output tubes, Butts labored over various means of achieving built-in echo, finally abandoning a noisy wire recorder for a tape-loop design. Gwaltney’s amp was completed, and successfully used, by ’53, and Butts had an inkling he was on to something. He built a second EchoSonic, packed it in the car, and headed to Nashville, where he hoped to audition it for the premier name in electric guitar at that time. As Butts told VG in 1994, he simply looked up Chet Atkins in the phone book and gave him a call.
“He answered the phone and I told him what I had,” Butts said. “He seemed kind of interested and told me he would be rehearsing for the Opry at the radio station and, if I wanted, I could bring the amp there and he’d try it out. I did. A bunch of them gathered around; they’d never heard anything like this before.” Pretty soon, however, they, and others, were hearing it plenty.
Atkins used the amp at the Grand Ole Opry the very next night, decided to buy it, and Butts sold it to him that day for his newly established list price of $495, minus $100 for a Fender combo Atkins gave him on trade. This was a hefty price at the time, given that the new Fender Twin sold for $239. But then, EchoSonics carried the desirable built-in echo and were made by hand. Atkins began using the amp straight away, employing the echo on several prominent recordings – his famous rendition of “Mister Sandman” among them – and the hip new cat in town was swiftly crawling out of the bag. As reported on his website, Moore heard an Atkins instrumental on the radio and chased down the source in order to achieve onstage the slapback Sam Phillips had been giving his guitar in the studio. He ordered his own EchoSonic in early ’55, and took delivery in May. In July, this most famous of EchoSonics hit the studio with Moore, Elvis and company, where it was used on the groundbreaking recording of “Mystery Train,” among others.
A circa- ’56 EchoSonic
The EchoSonic continued to be used on every recording Moore made with Presley up to, and including, the legendary 1968 “Comeback Special” on NBC TV (originally entitled “Elvis, Starring Elvis Presley”), where it can be heard, and occasionally seen, behind Moore’s right leg during the seated/in-the-round performances.
Like some tube-fired chain reaction worthy of the Old Testament, Moore’s purchase and use of this EchoSonic – serial number 8 (though often reported as being the third one built) – continued to send waves of desire for the new sound rippling through the Nashville scene. Chet’s playing begat Scotty’s desire, Scotty’s playing begat Luther’s desire, and Carl’s desire, and Roy’s desire… In time, Butts’ work naturally begat a little desire on the part of the industry, too, and the design of the tape-echo unit mounted in the bottom of the combo cab was eventually adapted for use in the short-lived Rickenbacker Ek-O-Sound amp, and the far-longer-lived Maestro Echoplex. Another Butts design also brought Gretsch a humbucking pickup, the Filter’Tron, that nearly beat out Gibson at the patent office, developed after Chet Atkins’ request for a pickup that produced less bass than the DeArmond Model 200, while also canceling hum.
As reported by Deke Dickerson, the current owner of number 24, these amps aren’t short of quirks. The delay time of the slapback echo is fixed, and is longer than the current concept of “rockabilly slapback” (and longer still when you first switch on the amp, until its capstan motor has warmed up for five to 10 minutes), but, says Dickerson, “That is the EchoSonic sound.” As for the amplifier itself, it is also something of a one-trick pony, and doesn’t have much punch even for a 25-watter (by the time of Moore’s first amp Butts had changed from 6V6s to 6L6s), but that too is part of the mystique. “These amps have a magic sound,” Dickerson declares. “They are not very loud, and they break up really easily, and it really only does one thing with the non-adjustable echo. In that regard, it’s not a very versatile amp at all. But the one thing that it does has not been captured by any other amplifier before or since. Nothing has that sound but an EchoSonic! The amp still works great today and has that awesome ‘Scotty Moore sound’.”
Ideally sized for the recording studio, the EchoSonic was woefully small for live use – its raison d’etre – even by the time rock and roll graduated from sock hop to theater stage. To that end, even before Fender designed the whopping “high-powered” Twin of ’58, and long, long before Vox and Marshall upped the ante on the AC100 and Super Lead, respectively, to help The Beatles and The Who and other Brits overcome similar difficulties, Butts created a pair of powered 50-watt “satellite” cabs to enable Moore’s lithe rockabilly riffs to be heard on a stage in front of thousands of screaming Elvis fans. Otherwise, this 25-watt combo with a single 12″ speaker and its built-in echo is a quaint reminder of a time when rebellion – and groundbreaking tone – came packed in a cabinet the size of a traveling salesman’s battered suitcase.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The continuing appeal of Hawaiian music through the past 100 years is based in part on the music itself, which evokes exotic images of life on a Pacific island, and in part on the fact that all you really need to get to that state of mind is a ukulele. As perhaps the easiest of all fretted instruments to learn to play, the ukulele is often seen as a toy, but many musicians and instrument makers took the uke seriously. The most serious of all – in terms of quality of instruments – was the C.F. Martin company, and one of the rarest of all Martin models is this Style 3K concert-size uke.
Though the early 20th century is usually noted as the being the mandolin’s heyday, it was also the time that Hawaiian music was first becoming popular on the mainland. The most distinctive sound in their music may have been the steel guitar, but the uke was equally important as a uniquely Hawaiian instrument and, eventually, as an icon for Hawaiian music.
As chronicled by George S. Kahahele in Hawaiian Music and Musicians, ukes were developed in the 1880s from a small Portuguese instrument called the braguinha, which had four strings tuned in fifths. Coincidentally, in the same way that the beginning of the mandolin era can be pinpointed to the arrival in New York of a performing group known as The Spanish Students, the beginning of the ukulele can be pinpointed to 1879, when a group of Portuguese immigrants (from Madeira island) landed in Hawaii. They brought braguinhas with them, and three – Manuel Nunes, Jose do Espirito Santo, and Augusto Dias – became the first ukulele makers.
The word “ukulele” is most often translated as “jumping flea,” a possible reference to Edward Purvis, a small, nimble braguinha player who was nicknamed “Ukulele.” Another inspiration for the “jumping flea” reference was the movement of the player’s hand. Queen Lili’uokalani, Hawaii’s last monarch and a uke player herself, promoted a more-poetic origin; “uku,” in addition to being a flea, is a gift, a reward, or a payment, while “lele” is used for a range of movements, so the Queen maintained that the “ukulele” meant a gift that was brought to Hawaii.
The appearance of Hawaiian groups at the Panama-Pacific International Exposition, held in San Francisco in 1915, is usually cited as the event that started the craze for Hawaiian music, but its popularity had been growing for at least 20 years. Queen Lili’uokalani had her song, “Aloha Oe,” published on the mainland in 1895; Victor issued its first records of Hawaiian artists in 1905, and a stage show featuring Hawaiian music ran on Broadway in 1912. The Pan-Pacific was the springboard that boosted Hawaiian music into the mainstream of American popular music. Proof lies in the fact that the venerable, conservative C.F. Martin company, in Nazareth, Pennsylvania, rushed ukuleles into production by January of 1916.
Frank Henry Martin, grandson of the founder, was undoubtedly happy to see a rising market for ukuleles. As a guitar maker since 1833, the company had never experienced an instrument market where its main product was the most popular fretted instrument. Martin had responded to the mandolin craze as early as 1898 but had never brought serious competition to Gibson in the early 1900s. In 1915, the cutting rhythm tone of the tenor banjo was ready to push the mandolin aside on its way to dominating the “jazz” music of the ’20s. The sudden popularity of a small, wood-bodied, guitar-like instrument was like a gift brought to Martin – the very definition of the ukulele name.
Frank Henry Martin was no stranger to the uke. As noted by Richard Johnston and Dick Boak in Martin Guitars: A History, he had built some ukes in 1907, but saw no market, and its construction – with a braced spruce top – was too heavy. In 1916, he gave them another try, copying the lightweight design of Hawaiian-made ukes. Instead of delaying production to wait for a supply of native-Hawaiian koa wood, Martin used mahogany, which the company was already using for the back and sides of its low-end Style 17 guitars (Style 18 models would switch from rosewood to mahogany a year later).
Martin started with three all-mahogany models, called simply Style 1, Style 2, and Style 3. They featured progressively fancier ornamentation; Style 1 had an outer binding layer of rosewood, Style 2 had ivoroid (ivory-grained celluloid), and Style 3 was given seven-ply binding around its top plus an inlaid ornament of bone (or celluloid) on the body and headstock. The fingerboard of the Style 3 also stood apart from the small dot inlays of the 1 and 2, featuring paired-diamond inlays at frets 5, 7, and 9, plus three pinstripe lines down the center of the fingerboard.
Martin began making koa guitars to fill special orders from Southern California Music and introduced the koa 0-28K under its own brand in 1917. Oddly, it would be three more years before Martin introduced the 1K, 2K, and 3K, which were the same design, but had bodies and necks made of koa. Despite the more expensive and more authentically Hawaiian look of koa, it was actually less expensive than mahogany, and the prices reflected it; $14, $18, and $30 for the mahogany 1, 2, and 3, respectively, compared to $14, $17 and $27 for the koa equivalents.
These were not cheap instruments. For less money than a style 3K, a musician could buy Martins all-mahogany 0-17 or 00-17 guitar models, priced at $20 and $25, respectively.
The ’20s are most often referred to as the Jazz Age, a period dominated by Dixieland bands, with their tenor banjos. But Hawaiian music was evolving, as well. In mainstream culture, the image of youth was a collegiate man in a raccoon coat, strumming a ukulele – not a trumpet or a banjo or any other instrument associated with jazz, but a ukulele! To illustrate the popularity of the instrument, Martin sold approximately 4,000 guitars in 1926, compared to 14,000 ukuleles. The company expanded its factory twice in the ’20s, thanks in part to booming uke sales.
Another indication of the continuing popularity of the ukulele was its growth into a family of instruments. The small dimensions of the standard uke (soon to be called “soprano”) begged for a slightly larger size to accommodate larger hands and a higher level of technique. In 1925, Martin met this demand with a “concert”-sized version of Style 1 called the 1C. The body width was 75/8″ (11/4″ wider than a soprano), and the scale length was 143/4″ (11/8″ longer than a soprano scale). In ’28, Martin introduced an even larger uke – the tenor.
Curiously, despite the popularity of the koa sopranos, Martin never officially offered a concert or tenor uke in koa. But it did make at least one concert-sized 3K – the instrument you see here. By this time (no earlier than 1925), the headstock ornament had been dropped.
The advent of the electric guitar in 1932 changed Hawaiian music from a jazzy acoustic ragtime style to the dreamy steel-heavy sound that endured well into the post-war years. The uke, though out of the spotlight, remained a symbol of Hawaiian culture, and the charming simplicity of its sound never lost its appeal. Martin last offered a koa uke in ’42, but kept the mahogany styles 1 and 3 – including the 1C concert – in production through ’94.
As interest in the uke began to rise again, thanks to such Hawaiian artists as virtuoso Jake Shimabukuro and laid-back vocalist Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole (Brudda Iz), Martin put the fancy 5K back in production in ’06, followed by Styles 3 and 3K in ’08, but to date, there is still only one known concert-sized Martin 3K.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Some guitars hit the market at the perfect time to becom e classics – think Les Paul and Stratocaster. Some experience brief popularity, then slip into obscurity – think Bond Electroglide. Yet others are intrinsically interesting but their timing is off, and they have to percolate their way into our consciousness. The Samick Viper is a good example.
Most know that Samick is one of the world’s largest guitar manufacturers. If you own a vintage Hondo or a modern Epiphone, Fender Squier, Washburn, or Hohner, it’s likely to have been made in a Samick factory.
Just as the Japanese guitar industry – while it may have had earlier roots – arose from the ashes of World War II in the 1940s, the Korean guitar industry essentially emerged from the chaos of the Korean War in the ’50s. Samick began as Samick Piano Company in ’58, founded by Mr. Hyo Ick Lee in Inchon, South Korea, primarily as an agent for American Baldwin pianos. In 1960, Samick began making its own uprights. In ’65, it expanded into acoustic guitar production, serving the lowest segment of the market. In ’69, Jerry Freed and Tommy Moore, of Texas-based International Music Corporation (I.M.C.), went to Korea and set up a joint venture with Samick to make Hondo guitars, which debuted in 1970. I.M.C. brought Japanese technicians to Korea to introduce improved production techniques. Initial Hondos were acoustics, followed by the first electrics in ’72.
Samick continued to improve and expand into making other instruments, including harmonicas, banjos, and grand pianos. In ’73, the name changed to Samick Musical Instrument Manufacturing Company and in ’78 it opened an office in Los Angeles, making it a full subsidiary in ’82 – the Samick Music Corporation. Ironically, while Samick is a major guitarmaker, its
main fame rests on its grand pianos. In the ’80s, it began building lower-range Epiphone (Gibson) and Fender guitars.
Samick went public in ’88, trading shares on the Korean stock exchange, and began a push to promote its own brand. For guitars in the U.S. it appeared by ’91, when it was introduced in guitar-magazine ads. Despite initial dealer resistance, Samick pursued an aggressive strategy. In ’92, it purchased a half interest in the small custom maker Valley Arts Guitar, advertising them with endorsements by Ray Benson and Keb Mo. In late ’02 the name was sold to Gibson.
The ’92 Viper KR-564 was an early example of a Samick intended to impress – part of the limited-edition Alternative Series that included the Ice Cube (clear acrylic), Aurora (multi-colored), Nightbreed (different viper carving), and Hawk (carved hawk graphic).
While not perfect, it’s an impressive guitar. Its body is three-piece alder, thin, and with a carved/arched top. The maple neck is also thin, and the two-octave rosewood fingerboard is bound, wide, and relatively flat. The “sharktooth” inlays have a little too much filler, but still look nifty. The licensed Floyd Rose is… well, just that. The pickups on this particular one are not that well-matched and probably explain why the pickups were commonly changed out, and why Samick quickly adopted Duncan-Designed pickups. Controls are a five-way with master Volume and two Tones (bridge, neck/middle).
The viper graphics are not a simple silkscreen. Rather, parts of the snake and skull are carved relief. Discussions with people at Samick suggest these were hand-carved in Korea; Samick did own a furniture business at the time, and may have had access to certain carving machines, but no one there recalls it being employed on guitars. Plus, Samick today produces several elaborately carved guitars, and all are done by hand. In addition, the carving is hand-painted. So, this was not a “wham bam, thank you ma’am” guitar. Priced at $649 – Samick’s most expensive at the time – it was a bargain, especially when compared to the list prices on the best Samick-made guitars for other brands (e.g. Fender’s Squier).
In ’93, Samick opened a new factory in Bogor, Indonesia, to make its low-end acoustics, adding electrics in ’95. Only the top models are now made in Korea. By ’98, Samick was promoting itself as the world’s largest guitarmaker. The following year, Samick began hiring American luthiers to design its flagship guitars, beginning with Greg Bennett. In 2010, the company introduced guitars and basses designed by J.T. Riboloff, and currently produces a limited number of guitars in the U.S.
Dating Samick guitars from the Viper period is easy; the first three numbers represent year and month. The one shown here is 2082134, making it 1992 (2) made in August (08). The Alternative Series was listed in only one edition (1992-’93) of the Guitar World Buyer’s Guide, though sources at Samick suggest they were made until ’96. Certain sources suggest 1,500 were made and Samick confirms the number is likely accurate. In any case, the Alternatives arrived at just the wrong time! In ’92, alternative rock was taking the world by storm in the form of Nirvana and the “Seattle sound,” which preferred lower-budget/retro guitars like the Fender Mustang and the Talman, and lipstick-tube pickups superseded Superstrats and Floyd Roses. Nevertheless, a guitar with a hand-carved skull-and-viper motif is about as timeless as you get! And now you know to keep your eyes, er, peeled!
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Greg Martin’s infatuation with the sunburst Gibson Les Paul Standard started in 1966, when, “I saw the picture of John Sebastian of The Lovin’ Spoonful with his ’59 on the back of Daydream,” he recalled when asked about his “pride and joy” ’58. “Two years later, I spotted Michael Bloomfield playing a ’Burst on the Electric Flag and Super Session albums. Between listening to Bloomfield’s playing and reading Hit Parader, I put together that a Les Paul with PAFs plugged into a cranked Fender or Marshall tube amp was a marriage made in heaven!”
By the mid ’70s, Martin was on the hunt for a guitar like those that had been used so often by his heroes, including Billy F. Gibbons, Jimmy Page, Ronnie Montrose, Duane Allman, Mick Taylor, Peter Green, Eric Clapton, and others. “I have no idea why, but I wanted a ’58,” he said. But price was an object. So while the ’Burst remained a dream, through 20-some years of playing he used a variety of Les Pauls including a mid-’50s Special in TV yellow finish.
Fast forward to the spring of 1990; The Kentucky HeadHunters’ Pickin’ On Nashville was about to achieve Gold status when the band was offered an opening slot on Hank Williams, Jr.’s Lone Wolf tour. They jumped at the chance. Oh, and… “I knew Hank, Jr. had a ’58 because I had seen him play it during a concert in Mississippi, and his lead guitarist at the time, Wayne ‘Animal’ Turner, often played it onstage,” said Martin. “So that spring, I borrowed it to make the ‘Oh, Lonesome Me’ video. From there, I took it on the road.
“Every time I plugged it into my old Marshall half-stack, there was that tone!” Martin recalled. “Thanks to Hank and his tech, Bud Phillips, I had it on the road all year.”
Eventually, though, the time came to return the guitar. “We were playing the Starwood Amphitheater, outside Nashville, when, with Mitchell Fox, our manager at the time, I took the guitar to Hank’s bus. But, next thing I knew, he was giving it to me! I didn’t know what to think, I was a little stunned. I even went back to the bus later to ask again if he had really given it to me!’
Once owned by Ed King, an early member of Lynyrd Skynyrd, the guitar is original except for its Tune-O-Matic bridge, which at some point was changed to a mid-’60s version. Its finish has faded to highlight its yellow hues (aficionados sometimes refer to Les Pauls with faded reds in their finish as “lemonburst”), and it weighs eight pounds, 12 ounces. The neck radius, Martin said, is more like a ’59, and its lead-position PAF measures 7.8k, the neck pickup 7.7k. He has used the guitar to record every HeadHunters album since 1993’s Rave On, as well as albums by Rufus Huff and Mighty Jeremiahs, Build Your Own Fire by Jimmy Hall and Muscle Shoals Rhythm Collective, and Skeptic Tank by Taildragger. “I think the best examples of its tone are on the Rufus Huff CD, ‘John The Revelator’ by The Mighty Jeremiahs, ‘Poor Old Me’ by Jimmy Hall, and The HeadHunters’ Authorized Bootleg: Live – Agora Ballroom – Cleveland, Ohio May 13,1990.
In 2010, Martin signed a contract with the Gibson Custom Shop to produce a copy of the guitar. “At some point, it’ll happen,” he said. “But for now I have prototype #1, and it’s a wonderful guitar.” Still, Martin is very aware that there’s simply no substitute for the real deal, and “Not a day goes by where I don’t say a ‘thank you’ to Hank, Jr. – and God!”
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
In Episode 49 of “Have Guitar Will Travel” features host James Patrick Regan speaking with Dave Miner, chairman of the board at Benedetto Guitars. A noted collector who appreciates vintage Gibson archtops, pre-war Martins, and early D’Angelicos as well as Benedettos, his passion for the instrument started in his youth. He and James touch on an array of topics including Dave’s primary business, Miner Family Winery, how he started playing and collecting guitars, and some of the fascinating people he has come to know in the business.
Have Guitar Will Travel, hosted by James Patrick Regan, otherwise known as Jimmy from the Deadlies, is presented by Vintage Guitar magazine, the destination for guitar enthusiasts. Podcast episodes feature guitar players, builders, dealers and more – all with great experiences to share! Find all podcasts at www.vintageguitar.com/category/podcasts.
As reported by Deke Dickerson, the current owner of number 24, these amps aren’t short of quirks. The delay time of the slapback echo is fixed, and is longer than the current concept of “rockabilly slapback” (and longer still when you first switch on the amp, until its capstan motor has warmed up for five to 10 minutes), but, says Dickerson, “That is the EchoSonic sound.” As for the amplifier itself, it is also something of a one-trick pony, and doesn’t have much punch even for a 25-watter (by the time of Moore’s first amp Butts had changed from 6V6s to 6L6s), but that too is part of the mystique. “These amps have a magic sound,” Dickerson declares. “They are not very loud, and they break up really easily, and it really only does one thing with the non-adjustable echo. In that regard, it’s not a very versatile amp at all. But the one thing that it does has not been captured by any other amplifier before or since. Nothing has that sound but an EchoSonic! The amp still works great today and has that awesome ‘Scotty Moore sound’.”
Martin began making koa guitars to fill special orders from Southern California Music and introduced the koa 0-28K under its own brand in 1917. Oddly, it would be three more years before Martin introduced the 1K, 2K, and 3K, which were the same design, but had bodies and necks made of koa. Despite the more expensive and more authentically Hawaiian look of koa, it was actually less expensive than mahogany, and the prices reflected it; $14, $18, and $30 for the mahogany 1, 2, and 3, respectively, compared to $14, $17 and $27 for the koa equivalents.
Fast forward to the spring of 1990; The Kentucky HeadHunters’ Pickin’ On Nashville was about to achieve Gold status when the band was offered an opening slot on Hank Williams, Jr.’s Lone Wolf tour. They jumped at the chance. Oh, and… “I knew Hank, Jr. had a ’58 because I had seen him play it during a concert in Mississippi, and his lead guitarist at the time, Wayne ‘Animal’ Turner, often played it onstage,” said Martin. “So that spring, I borrowed it to make the ‘Oh, Lonesome Me’ video. From there, I took it on the road.
