The Sex Pistols onstage in ’77 – Glen Matlock, John Lydon, and Steve Jones. Photo by Koen Suyk/Nationaal Archief.
Grown men wearing capes. Stadium concerts with self-indulgent instrumental solos. Lyrics that had nothing to do with reality. Rock stars living in castles. By the mid ’70s, all of it aptly described the state of rock music.
The punk-rock movement offered an alternative. And while the Ramones, Iggy & the Stooges, and the Dictators made music that could’ve been called “punk rock,” the Sex Pistols were the first group to gain real mass-media attention and record an album that impacted the charts with Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols.
Formed in London in 1975, the Pistols were singer John “Johnny Rotten” Lydon, guitarist Steve Jones, bassist Glen Matlock, and drummer Paul Cook; early on, they learned how to attract a following of disenfranchised youth and stand out with a fashion sense “opposite” of Yes and Zeppelin – short/spiky hair, torn clothing, etc. But, while their shenanigans resulted in publicity galore (including a December of ’76 live appearance on British TV during which two members swore, prompting nationwide outrage), the Pistols found it hard to build a lasting relationship with a label – EMI and A&M had brief affiliations with the band (resulting in two classic singles, “Anarchy in the UK” and “God Save the Queen,” respectively) before each grew reticent and dropped them in quick succession.
Finally, Warner Brothers was courageous enough to take the band on for a full-length debut. One teeny problem – one of the band’s primary songwriters, Matlock, had exited and was replaced by Sid Vicious, a chap who possessed very little talent for playing bass. As a result, Jones pulled double-duty for the sessions (though Matlock played on the single version of “Anarchy”).
Steve Jones with the Pistols – Gibson Firebird III in hand. Photo by Richard Galbraith.
Working with producers Chris Thomas and Bill Price, sessions for the album took place from March through August of ’77, at Wessex Sound Studio, in London.
For the sessions, Jones used a white ’74 Gibson Les Paul Custom, a Les Paul Custom Black Beauty, a Fender Twin, and – for “Anarchy in the U.K.” only – an MXR phase pedal. The bass was a Fender Precision through an Ampeg amp. Speaking to Vintage Guitar in May of 2017, he recalled how he obtained the white Les Paul.
“It used to belong to Sylvain Sylvain, from the New York Dolls,” he said. “Then, [Pistols manager] Malcolm McLaren started managing the Dolls for like 10 minutes, and I don’t know how Malcolm acquired it, but he brought it back from New York and gave it to me.”
Unfortunately, the whereabouts of this now-iconic instrument (which sported two decals of ’50s pin-up model) are unknown.
“It went to the wayside like everything else – in a drug haze,” he said. “There was a guy managing the Professionals (Jones’ early-’80s/post-Pistols group) and it ended up with him, along with my amp. He claimed it was money owed to him, which is suspect. When the band went to go back to England, I decided to stay in New York and all the equipment went back there… I guess the manager sold it to somebody.”
Front to back, there is not a single weak track on Bollocks, which showcases Jones’ knack for devising power-chord progressions that stick in your noggin (namely “Anarchy” and “Queen” but also “Holidays in the Sun,” “Pretty Vacant,” “Liar,” and “Problems”), and as a reaction to the indulgent rock-guitar solos of the time, Jones kept leads to a minimum (and very basic).
“‘Problems’ has a good, long guitar solo,” he said. “There are a few. And there are two little sections in ‘Anarchy’ [but] I would barely say they were guitar solos. They’re ‘parts’ more than anything. And, ‘Anarchy’ was the only track that had a pedal on it – the MXR. I had it worked out before we recorded it because we used to play it live.”
Released on October 28, 1977, the album rocketed to the top of the U.K. album charts, while peaking at a meager #106 in the States. But only a few months after its release, the band was kaput, resulting in Bollocks being their sole full-length studio recording. It proved a steady seller, however, eventually earning platinum certification in the U.K. and U.S.
In the decades that followed, Megadeth, Mötley Crüe, and others would take turns covering “Anarchy,” and Kurt Cobain once listed Bollocks as one of his favorite albums. It was also included as part of Rolling Stone’s 500 greatest albums.
In a recent interview, Matlock said he remains impressed by the disc and its standing in the rock pantheon.
“I think it stands up as well as anything by Gene Vincent, Little Richard, or Elvis’ Sun Sessions,” he said. “Anything that was done well at the time should sound as fresh and vital as the day it was made, regardless of the current musical climate. And I think it does.”
This article originally appeared in VG November 2018 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Fieger with his ’65 Rickenbacker 360/12 in Mapleglo with Rick-0-Sound tailpiece.
As the 1970s drew to a close, the Knack’s “My Sharona” was one of the songs that heralded the beginning of the end of the disco era. A straightforward pop-rock tune, its infectious beat and mountainous hook all but guaranteed it would be a hit.
The single’s success elevated the Knack’s status and helped its first album (Get The Knack) sell 500,000 copies in its first 13 days of release on its way to selling a total of five million, making it one of the most successful debuts in history. And as with all things so readily exposed, labels were attached to the band, including “new wave” and “power pop.” Some critics went so far as to accuse them of ripping off the early Beatles’ sound and appearance. But Doug Fieger, who co-founded the band, sang lead vocals, and played guitar, has never thought the comparisons – or criticism – were valid.
The Knack quickly followed Get The Knack (released in 1979) with …But The Little Girls Understand (also ’79) and the markedly mature Round Trip (’81). The years since have seen the band release a handful of albums, and they continue to play live.
A Knack For Axes 1) ’65 Gibson SG with original vibrato tailpiece. 2) ’63 Gibson Hummingbird. 3) ’55 Gibson J-160E with ”adjustable” bridge.
In 2004, doctors discovered a small cancerous tumor in one of Fieger’s lungs. He was rightfully surprised; though he admits to having briefly lived the rock star lifestyle, at the time it had been nearly a quarter century since he’d taken any sort of drugs or consumed any alcohol. Plus, he’d been a longtime vegetarian and hadn’t smoked a cigarette in more than 20 years. The tumors were removed surgically, but were not discovered in time before the cancer had begun to spread, and on August 3, 2006, Fieger underwent a craniotomy to remove two tumors in his brain. The procedure was successful, and in June, 2007, scans showed the cancer was in remission. Unfortunately, that doesn’t always mean a patient is in the clear, and in October, he underwent a fourth procedure to remove brain tumors (the last three using a gammonite laser).
’72 Fender Stratocaster used to record The Knack’s mega-hit “My Sharona” It also appeared in the video, which saw very heavy play on MTV in its early days. When looking for a Strat in late ’72/early ’73, Doug Fieger played “every Strat in every store in L.A. at the time,” and chose this one. “Every good guitar player who picks it up flips over it,” he adds. “I really just wanted one that looked like Buddy Holly’s – sunburst with a maple neck. Rosewood-board versions were too expensive at the time. Fieger used it in on many live dates in the ’70s and still uses it in the studio.
When discussing his tribulations, Fieger is a veritable poster boy for positive thinking, speaking with a vigor that belies his age, experience, status, and condition.
“I feel terrific,” he says. “I’ve been doing a lot of shows with the Knack – we just got back from Rome, did a month in Australia, and we’re about to go back to Italy and Spain, with a little stop in Houston in between! We just did a charity show for breast cancer research in California.
“And although I’m still being treated for lung cancer – and chemotherapy is pretty horrible – I live a full life. I’m not infirm in any way.”
A knowledgeable guitar collector, Fieger’s instruments reflect heavily his musical influences, and are outstanding not only for their personal history, but for their condition. And he still uses them in-studio and onstage.
You grew up in the Detroit area, but maybe more than being a fan of Motown, you were a pretty serious Beatlemaniac, weren’t you?
(chuckles) Well, everybody was! But the first music I ever loved was by Hank Williams. He was the first singer I remember hearing, and people don’t realize that around Detroit, there were a lot of Southerners – black and white – who came up to work in the auto factories. So we not only had what was called “race music” stations back then, we had great country stations. The first music I remember hearing was country, and Hank was my first hero – he was the first guy with a rock star attitude. Apart from the fact that drums weren’t prominent in his music, it was proto-rock; marry it to R&B, and you have rock and roll.
Later, I loved Elvis, Buddy Holly, and Little Richard – the originals – plus the doo-wop groups and soul music when it started. My mom loved folk music – the Weavers, Pete Seeger, and Woody Guthrie. So I had a pretty wide palette to choose from.
Did you run out and get a guitar after the Beatles appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show”?
It was around that time that I got my first guitar, and I still have it – a 1963 Gretsch Country Gentleman that I played in my first band, the Royal Jammers (laughs). The band was terrible, but the name was great! I was 11. I saw George Harrison play that guitar, and my dad bought me one just like it. A kid across the street, Bobby Boyle, had a band with a guy named John Coury, and they came over to see my guitar because not too many kids had Beatles guitars back then. It was exactly like Harrison’s, and I think they only made it for a few months. It had two Filter’Trons, red felt on the mutes, and Grover Imperial [tuning keys].
John said I could join their band if I let him play the Country Gentleman and I switched to bass. So I conned my dad… again (chuckles). He wouldn’t buy another instrument, but he rented a St. George bass for me. And it was a good bass to learn on because it was so difficult to play, and we played a lot of bass-heavy material like Yardbirds and Animals songs, as well as Beatles songs.
John became my mentor and best friend. Our band was called Spirit, well before the band from California, or at least we didn’t know about them. We morphed into a band called Sky, but in between, John and I had a band that played only Beatles songs. By then, I’d gotten a Framus Star bass; it had a narrow neck, which is one of the reasons Bill Wyman played one. I was a short kid, and the Framus was good for me. I went to Norway with my grandmother in 1967, where I bought a ’66 Höfner for $100; I still have it. But that became the bass I played in Sky until John got tired of hearing it. He wanted me to get a solidbody, so I bought a ’67 Rickenbacker 4001 in FireGlo.
4) Doug Fieger calls this 1950 Fender Broadcaster the “Crown jewel of my collection. Apart from some finish checking, it doesn’t have a mark on it – it’s as close to mint as can be for something that’s 57 years old.” 5) ’62 Fender Telecaster with Shell Pink ’60s refinish. 6) ‘60s Gretsch Tennessean.
Was Sky around when the “Detroit sound” of the late ’60s evolved, with MC5, Bob Seger, the Stooges, the Amboy Dukes, etc.?
We didn’t sonically figure into that at all, but we opened shows for all of those bands. We probably did 50 dates with the MC5, but sounded nothing like them. I’ve known Wayne Kramer and Bob Seger since I was 14 years old. We also opened for major bands that came through – we opened for the Who three times, the Jeff Beck Group six times, Traffic three or four times, Joe Cocker and the Grease Band, Jethro Tull, Pentangle.
It was through Traffic that I got the address of Jimmy Miller, the producer for the Rolling Stones, Traffic, and Blind Faith. He was amazed that somebody had written him about their own band, and he told me he’d stop in Detroit and listen to us on his way to Los Angeles, if we’d set up a tour of Motown Studios for him. I believe this was in February of 1970. After the tour, he came over and we played for him in the basement. The next day, he signed us! So, five days after I graduated from high school – I still had braces on my teeth – he flew us to London and we recorded our first album with Gary Wright and Andy Johns as producers. Jimmy was executive producer, and produced two tracks. He was doing the Stones’ Sticky Fingers in the “big” studio next door; we were in the little studio. I got to hear “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” before it had lyrics.
How many albums did Sky record?
Two. We moved to California between the first and second albums. We did three tracks at the new Record Plant; Jimmy produced the whole album this time. Andy Johns and Glyn Johns were the engineers. Then we went to England to finish the album at Mick Jagger’s house using the Rolling Stones mobile recorder.
Then we broke up. We were very young and had very bad management, so there was a lot of craziness. I was only 17 or 18 years old. I stayed in California, and the other guys went back to Detroit. I put a band together, but it took me seven and a half years to find the right musicians. The first was Bruce Gary, the Knack’s original drummer. A couple years later, I bumped into (guitarist) Berton Averre, and he became my writing partner. We made demo tapes and got turned down by everybody at least four times, with songs that later sold a lot of records. “Good Girls Don’t” was turned down by every record company in the world, and wound up selling millions of copies.
7) This 1963 Gretsch Country Gentleman was Doug Fieger’s first guitar. 8) ’63 Epiphone Casino with factory Bigsby – “Exactly like Paul McCartney’s.” Despite the fact it has toured the world twice, it is in outstanding condition. Bought in 1978 from Frank Lucido for $400 “maybe less!”. 9) ‘66 Fender Bass VI.
Prescott Niles signed on a week before we played our first gig. I was playing bass and rhythm guitar, but Berton showed me how to play guitar, because I really hadn’t done that in a legitimate band. I realized Prescott was a better bass player, and it was easier for me to play rhythm guitar and sing lead vocals. Within five or six gigs, there were lines around the block.
Talk about the ’72 Strat you bought with the money earned from an unusual gig.
I auditioned for a band that had a bleach-blond singer, and her husband looked like an Elvis impersonator. She couldn’t sing in tune if her life depended on it, and she couldn’t tap her foot to a marching band (laughs)! It was hilarious, but they were gonna pay me $400 to go to Elko, Nevada, to do five sets a night for two weeks. They were playing songs like “Tie A Yellow Ribbon” and “You Are the Sunshine of My Life,” but that’s how I got the money to get that guitar. In the meantime, I also got a ’71 Martin D-28; I wrote “Good Girls Don’t” on that.
What did you think of the labels that were being applied to the Knack when it first broke?
I’ve never understood why people have to label things. If Blondie or The Cars were “New Wave” bands, well… the Knack’s music wasn’t anything like theirs. We were just a rock and roll band. And the first time I ever heard the term “power pop,” Pete Townshend was using it to describe the Who’s music; the Who was my favorite band. The Who and the Kinks were the bands we tried to emulate most, and to me they were just rock-and-roll bands.
How much credibility do you feel the Knack earned by having “My Sharona” transformed into “My Bologna” by Weird Al Yankovic?
I got Al signed to his record deal, and he sent me a copy of that song, which had been played on Dr. Demento’s show. That’s where Al started, but he didn’t have a record deal. I took the tape to Capitol, and they signed him. He’s a really good friend, and is incredibly talented. Usually, the songs he comes up with are better than the songs he’s parodying! But there were dozens of (“My Sharona”) parodies – there was “Ayatollah” by a deejay, “My Corona,” “Juan Corona.”
“My Sharona” took on a life of its own. Most people, even if they don’t know the Knack, know “My Sharona.” It’s one of the biggest-selling songs of all time.
Did you make a conscious effort to start collecting guitars?
Well, I have the first guitar I ever owned, so I guess I’ve been collecting since 1964! I’ve sold two guitars, and I had one stolen. The only reason I sold those two – and I probably shouldn’t have – was because I had a lot of guitars, and those two were pristine. There was a ’63 (Gibson) Everly Brothers with tags, and some guy offered me a stupid amount of money for it. But it’s now worth 10 times what he paid. I also sold a prototype Rickenbacker Capri that’s now in a book on Rickenbacker.
1968 Transition-model Fender Bassman with black control panel, blond Tolex, and “wheat straw” grillecloth.
Do you get a chance to play them all?
I don’t keep my guitars in storage; I play ’em all. It’s like asking a carpenter why he has so many tools. He needs different hammers, saws or screwdrivers to do different things. My guitars are my tools, and each one has a different function. And most of them are in great condition because I treat them with respect. My Country Gentleman has been around the world three times, and it doesn’t have a scratch on it… I always put something over a belt buckle or buttons on jeans to prevent rash. I have a ’63 (Epiphone) Casino that has also been around the world with me twice, and it’s mint. If you looked at it, you’d think it’s a new guitar.
Your other Gretsch is a Tennessean.
A ’65, in mint condition. The thing you realize when you play a Tennessean after playing a Country Gentleman is how cheap the Tennessean is; it’s like a student guitar with single-coil pickups, and is cheaply put together. It makes you wonder why George Harrison chose a Tennessean as his go-to guitar, because he had the Country Gent before that. I use my Tennessean only when I need a particular sound; it has flatwound strings.
This Vox 730 head (with a reissue cab with vintage Vox speakers) was one of the company’s hybrid amps, with a solidstate preamp and tube power section. The 700-series heads were made from ‘66 to ‘68, when the company went to full solidstate. “It has a weird, cool sound – that Revolver, sound,” says Doug Fieger.
And what about your Fenders?
My ’59 slab-board Telecaster is probably the best-sounding and best-playing Tele I own, or have ever owned. It’s not mint – maybe it’s a 7 out of 10 – but it’s very vibey! When real guitar players play it, they always think it’s amazing. Playing through the Supro – it is the first Zeppelin album.
I’ve also got a ’66 blond Tele because Robbie (Robertson) played one on The Band’s ’66 tour with (Bob) Dylan, and in ’79 or ’80 I bought a ’62 Shell Pink one because black, white, and pink were Knack colors; I didn’t even know it was a rare guitar. The back of the neck was worn when I got it but otherwise it was in immaculate condition. It plays well, but it’s not the best-sounding. The ’69 rosewood Tele is two-piece; hollow inside. I use it in recording a lot, but it’s weird-sounding. I’ve had my ’66 Bass VI for 20 years, and have used it on recordings, but I don’t really play it live.
I recently got a ’65 Fender XII because Townshend used one on Tommy, and I loved that sound. I got to see the Who play Tommy live for the first time in front of a paying audience, at the Grande Ballroom in Detroit, where they opened that tour. Joe Cocker and the Grease Band opened for them, and nobody had heard of him, but the Who really had to work to get the audience back, because Cocker blew the crowd away.
And I have the nicest Broadcaster on the planet, which I got from a collector. It’s a nice addition to my portfolio – my retirement (chuckles)! It’s spooky how clean it is. It has some finish checking, but it doesn’t have a scratch on it.
How did you end up with the funky basses like the Ampeg AEB-1 and the ’54 Gibson Electric Bass?
I got the Ampeg because (The Band bassist Rick) Danko played that model, though he had a fretless one. Another indication of how much I love the Band! It’s the later model with the visible pickup, and it has an amazing sound. The model with the visible pickup sounds better than the earlier ones, in my opinion. It has a Fender-style tailpiece rather than the odd tailpiece that hangs off the end.
Likewise, I got the EB because I was a huge Mountain fan – Felix Pappalardi. I’ve never seen a nicer one, but it’s a very strange-sounding bass, and is fairly impossible to make sound good unless you play like Felix or Jack Bruce, in a power trio. You can’t get any definition out of it; you have to crank it up, full-treble, to get it to do anything.
Supro Thunderbolt, a la Led Zeppelin I.
Do you have any favorite bass for recording?
A Höfner. They sound great in the studio. I go through an Ampeg SVT direct box, which is the greatest invention I’ve ever heard for a bass; I’ll never record with an amp again.
Presumably, your ’55 Gibson J-160E is another nod to the Beatles.
Absolutely. It has the adjustable bridge, and I used it a lot on Knack records. I’ve had it since ’78.
Are there any other guitars in your collection that you picked up because one of your heroes played one?
I got a Gibson Firebird in Kerry Green because Steve Winwood played one in Traffic, and a ’65 SG Special with P-90s and short Vibrola – Townshend again! There’s also a ’66 Epiphone Riviera 12-string, a la Carl Wilson. My “Jimmy Page guitars” are the ’59 slab-board Tele, a black double-cutaway Danelectro with lipstick-tube pickups, and one of the 150 Murphy-aged Les Pauls that Gibson made a couple of years ago.
You have a number of Vox amplifiers. Any particular favorite?
A hybrid 730 – the Revolver/Sergeant Pepper amp. There’s an AC100 that I got in ’78; I put it in a flight case and have taken it out three or four times to record with it. It looks like a time machine. Those amps were overpowered and under-ventilated, so they always blew up. There are probably very few examples left, let alone one that’s mint. I own AC50s, AC30s, and Super Beatles.
What other notable amps do you have?
I’ve had my Marshall 100 Super Bass stack since ’68. I’ve also got a ’68 (Fender) Twin and a ’68 Bassman, both with the frame around the grillecloth. Those are Beatle amps, but they’re good; they really sound different because of the circuitry.
One of my favorites is a ’65 Bassman in blond Tolex, with wheatstraw grillecloth and a black control panel – not brownface. It’s a rare amp – McCartney had one, and George Harrison played through it from Help! through Abbey Road. I also finally found one for Elliot Easton. When you play through it, it’s like God’s own amp; there’s something different about it. I don’t know what they did to the circuit during the transition from brownface to blackface, but there’s a great creaminess to the tone.
Hendrix and Page were the reason I got a Supro Thunderbolt. Page also played through a Rickenbacker Transonic in the Yardbirds, so I got one of those, as well. I saw the Yardbirds in Detroit in late ’66. Beck had just quit, the MC5 opened, and Page used two Transonics without the frames – he stood one trapezoid cabinet upside down and placed it against the other, so they made a giant square. It’s an odd-sounding amp. Berton will use it sometimes for leads because it gets weird, but cool, tones.
Summing up your collection?
Most people will say, “I have this Beatle amp” or “I have this Jimi Hendrix thing.” But you’ve got to remember that the Beatles sounded the same no matter what guitars or amps they used. It was their fingers. You can have the same equipment, but unless you’ve got Jimmy Page’s fingers, you ain’t gonna sound like Jimmy Page. Still, as a collector, I like having what a lot of the players that inspired me had.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2008 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
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1957 Musicmaster with custom black finish. Guitar photos courtesy of George Gruhn.
Often forgotten amongst Fender’s classic line of vintage electric guitars, the definitive (and diminutive) Musicmaster and Duo-Sonic student-grade models were conceived to capitalize on the fact teenagers were taking up the guitar in droves as Bill Haley and the Comets’ “Rock Around the Clock” rode the Billboard charts for 10 weeks in the summer of 1955.
Fender’s Sales division was acutely aware at the time that nobody would be using a Champion lap steel to try and emulate Danny Cedrone’s guitar solo, so it asked company president Leo Fender – known for his ability to devise a new product in as little as three months – to round out their Spanish-guitar offering with the two beginner models. Leo responded, and the first run of single-pickup Musicmasters was ready in early May of 1956.
Dubbed “¾ instruments,” Musicmasters had much shorter scale lengths and other features intended to make them attractive to a younger, more frugal student player. But today, veteran and neophyte vintage guitar collectors alike are intrigued by these little guitars, in part because they were made with the same care as their more costly siblings even if, compared to the Stratocaster, they were an evolutionary step backward. Here’s a year-by-year look at the history of the these entry-level axes.
1956
Production began in April on the single-pickup Musicmaster. Sales manager Don Randall chose the name because he thought it “sounded kind of cute” and fit with the existing master-model monikers (i.e. Stringmaster, Bandmaster). Early examples differed in several ways, including having slightly thicker bodies made of ash, and some have areas that were hand-chiseled to fix mistakes in the initial tooling. Pickguards were aluminum, which may have been chosen for its durability (as beginners tend to be heavy-handed), but ironically, the black paint Fender applied did not wear well. So after the initial run, the guards were made of plastic.
To compensate for the first-run missteps, by May, the guitars were being made with the more-familiar 1950s appointments – one-piece, 21-fret, bolt-on maple neck with 22½” scale and a nut width of 15⁄8“. Like other Fender necks of the era, the truss rod was installed through a rout in the back of the neck, and a walnut “skunk stripe” filled the channel. And Fender’s ¾ neck profiles always mirrored the chunky V shapes of the necks on Telecasters, Esquires, and Stratocasters of the era, along as well as the standard narrow fret wire.
Catalog images courtesy of Terry Foster.
The ¾ guitars also had the exact headstock dimensions as seen on the Stratocaster, with a single butterfly string retainer and six-on-a-side “single-line” Kluson Deluxe tuning gears with white plastic buttons. The earliest examples (from March through June of ’56) were fitted with the “no-line” Kluson machineheads. A silver “spaghetti” logo decal was affixed to the headstock of the Musicmaster, while the later Duo-Sonic would get a gold logo. The model name appeared under the Fender logo, slightly to the right, in small upper-case letters framed in quotation marks.
Bodies were solid poplar or similar wood, usually in two or more laminated pieces, always routed for two pickups (regardless of final configuration). These were finished in Desert Sand, the beige color used on many Fender steel guitars. And because they were not sealed with a clear coat of lacquer, they were less prone to yellowing compared to other Fenders of the era.
Each Musicmaster had a small, rectangular, chrome-plated metal bridge. Strings were installed from the top, and rested on three adjustable steel saddles (the same ones found on Telecasters and Esquires) and topped by a removable chrome-plated bridge cover. A gold-anodized aluminum pickguard/control plate replaced the black-painted guards; this harnessed the volume and tone potentiometers, the ¼” jack, and the single, angled neck pickup (on the Duo-Sonic, this plate also housed an additional bridge pickup and three-way toggle switch on the upper treble bout). These pickups were black-bobbin single-coils with polepieces milled flat on top to accept the solid, white plastic pickup cover. The same pickups, wired in the same way, were used on the Musicmaster and Champ steel! The control panel’s details were finished off with chrome barrel knobs, as seen on all Fender guitars except Champs and Strats.
The first known production run of Duo-Sonics began in June, and both models were produced concurrently until the late 1960s.
1958 Musicmaster with anodized guard.
1958
Throughout 1958, Musicmaster and Duo-Sonic necks gradually became narrower at the nut until they reached the so-called “A width” of 1½”. The solid steel saddles were replaced with threaded saddles, the application of clear lacquer made the anodized finish more durable on the pickguard, and Fender also offered a “utility case” for $10 less than the standard hardshell case.
1959
In the late spring, maple necks on all Fender guitars were fitted with a slab (milled flat on the bottom) rosewood fingerboard and clay-dot position markers. The truss rod could be installed through the top of the neck prior to gluing the fingerboard, so the rout on the back was no longer necessary.
At the same time, the standard color was changed from Desert Sand to a darker tan with a pinkish hue, the name of which was never heavily promoted by Fender. Also, the body routing was altered slightly (a hump appeared in the control cavity) and four more screws were added to secure the pickguard. The metal guard was replaced with a cream-colored single-ply plastic guard with beveled edges with a thin aluminum shield on its bottom to guard the pickup assembly against electronic interference, and simplify grounding. The white plastic pickup covers were changed to a dark brown, a color used exclusively on Musicmasters and Duo-Sonics.
1961
A letter to dealers in July, 1961, announced that Musicmasters and Duo-Sonics would be finished in sunburst only. This apparently was a request from dealers, who perhaps believed it’d be easier to up-sell or transition a customer to a Jazzmaster or Stratocaster if their little brothers looked a little more like them. However, sunburst on the ¾ guitars was different in that it was yellow in the middle and transitioned to red, then maroon with no black on the outer edge. And it was fairly opaque compared to the standard Fender sunburst of the time. Most (if not all) of the early sunburst ¾ guitars were sprayed over a tan finish, suggesting leftover paint was used as an undercoat. These were fitted with a white one-piece plastic pickguard with beveled edges, and the same brown pickup covers.
1958 Duo-Sonic with anodized aluminum pickguard.
1962
In mid 1962, the slab rosewood fretboard was replaced by a curved, veneer rosewood board that became still thinner as the year passed.
1963
In 1963, Fender began making four variants of ¾ guitar. For the first time, budding guitarists had more than one color option. Sunburst was dropped mid-year in favor of white and “Red-Mahogany.” Perhaps this was a reaction to the color found on competitors’ student models. It was, however, more likely a cost-cutting measure (spraying one color takes less time) as even these colors would have looked pretty dull compared to something like a Gretsch Princess or a TV-finished Gibson SG Junior.
White Musicmasters and Duo-Sonics were fitted with a nitrocellulose tortoiseshell pickguard and white pickup covers. Another variant was produced in the autumn, with a single-ply dark brown pickguard. Today these are quite scarce, as they were produced for only a month or two.
Red-Mahogany was probably Fender’s answer to Gibson’s Cherry Red. This translucent finish appeared sporadically in 1963 and ’64, and was initially offered on mahogany-bodied guitars, but by ’64 was also applied to the “regular” woods, like poplar. These guitars were normally fitted with white guards and black pickup covers.
The use of mahogany as a body wood was uncommon at Fender, but examples have turned up on most models from this era. This may have been Fender’s attempt at going head-to-head with Gibson’s Cherry Red SG Junior and SG Special models. Red-Mahogany ¾ guitars were not produced in large quantities, and the properties of the paint made it more susceptible to checking and cracking, so it’s difficult to find a guitar today with the finish intact.
1964
In the spring of ’64, a major re-working of the “student guitar” line was afoot, and August saw the debut of the Mustang – essentially a Duo-Sonic with a vibrato bridge. The Musicmaster and Duo-Sonic each received an extensive facelift to make them match the Mustang cosmetically, and all three were offered in “full-scale” (24″) and short-scale (22½”) versions. These “II series” guitars had a body altered with a slightly offset waist and a headstock with a new size and shape unique to the ¾ guitars.
The bridge plate was noticeably enlarged and modified such that it could no longer hold a chrome cover. It remained top-loading, though, with the same three-saddle arrangement. The redesigned bridge size and placement could accommodate intonation for either short- or long-scale necks.
Body routings were changed to accept the redesigned pickup and control layout (and the Mustang’s vibrato), and a total of 15 screws now held the pickguard/control plates in place (12 and 3 respectively). The thin metal shielding was discarded in favor of four metal ground plates inserted into the bottom of the body routings.
The bridge pickup was slanted to align the polepieces with the strings, and the neck pickup was moved slightly toward the neck; this may have been another concession for the long-scale neck. The pickguard was separated from the control plate, and it received an outward-rounding curve on the low-E side.
The two-pickup ¾ instruments received a pair of slider switches in the low-E side of the pickguard. Controlling each pickup separately, they turned the pickup off in the middle position, and changed the phase of the pickups. Several combinations of pickups and phasing were possible.
The separate control plate was chrome and housed the volume and tone pots, as well as the input jack. The knobs were changed to a skirted black plastic type already in use on the Jazz Bass, Jazzmaster, and Jaguar. And at some point in ’64, the Musicmaster and Duo-Sonic were shipped with a thicker gold “transition” Fender logo, with their model name in slightly bolder print.
All redesigned Duo-Sonics and Musicmasters were part of the II series, regardless of scale length or the label on the headstock. It’s a common mistake to refer to only long-scale examples as II series, a distinction Fender never made.
White guitars still came with tortoise pickguards, but pickup covers were initially changed to off-white, slightly translucent plastic. Fender also introduced red and blue as color options with the II series; these instruments were equipped with “crushed pearl” (white/black/pearloid) guards, and black-plastic pickup covers.
In late ’64, the clay-dot position markers were replaced with pearloid dots; overlaps occur where pearl top and clay side markers appear. The pearl dots were slightly larger than the clay, but the spacing of the double dots at the 12th fret remained the same. Double-line Kluson Deluxe tuners, with white plastic buttons, also appeared at the end of ’64. Finally, the nitrate pickguard, which had proven prone to shrinkage, warping, wrinkling, and discoloration disappeared at year’s end, replaced by plastic.
The versatility of optional scale lengths, a design feature of the II series, ultimately doomed the ¾ scale neck, as players expressed a strong preference for the 24″ scale length, which Fender offered at no additional cost.
The Mustang, meanwhile, proved an instant hit, and ironically, its popularity suddenly made the Duo-Sonic an odd fit in the lineup. It was discontinued in ’69. The Musicmaster lasted until 1980.
Plenty of guitarists and collectors, when lacking the liquid capital for a decent ’50s Strat, have turned to the Musicmaster and Duo-Sonic as an affordable connection to Fender’s golden era. And although the market for early ¾ guitars has picked up, clean examples can still be found for less than twice their original retail price… adjusted for inflation!
So, consider celebrating the 50th anniversary of Fender’s original Musicmaster and Duo-Sonic by trying one for yourself. For the purist, they offer a lot of history and plenty of vintage feel, tone, and vibe.
Terry Foster and Tim Pershing are avid collectors of all things Fender. Foster is a noted authority on Fender Musicmaster, Duo-Sonic, and Mustang models. This article originally appeared in VG July 2006 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Modern guitars are almost always sold with a hard case or modestly priced upgrade from a gig bag. However, this has not always been… the case.
A 1960 Les Paul Standard in a Geib four-latch case. Photos: William Ritter. Instrument courtesy of George Gruhn.
Prior to 1970, instruments were usually sold without a case, and obtaining that protection was significantly more expensive – 20 to 25 percent of the instrument’s price – sometimes almost as much as a low-end instrument.
Today, cases typically account for six percent or less of the cost. The difference is due in part to increases in guitar prices (even after adjustment for inflation) and partially due to technological changes in case construction.
In 1936, a Gibson Advanced Jumbo retailed for $80; a #418 “red line” Faultless hard case (with black Keratol covering and plush interior) was available separately for $15 (18.75 percent of the price of the guitar) and a Challenge “soft” case was $6 (7.5 percent). The Gibson J-35 debuted in ’36 at $35, which meant adding the #418 Faultless increased the player’s payout 42 percent. Even the Challenge case created a 17 percent jump in expenditure. Similarly, Martin’s D-28 had a retail price of $100 and was offered with three choices for a case – Style B for $9, Style C for $16.50, or the Style D for $27. For less-expensive guitars like Martin’s 0-17 (priced at $30) the $25 cost of a Style D case represented 83 percent of the cost of the guitar. Even at $7.50, the Style B case was expensive.
A ’61 Strat in a brown-Tolex G&G case.
Until the 1970s, case construction was dominated by American companies like Geib, Lifton, Ess & Ess, Stone, Victoria, and G&G. Their best models had a wood-laminate frame, cover material like Keratol, Airplane Cloth (tweed) or Tolex, and a padded flannel or silk lining. Though adaptable in size or shape (prior to World War II, Geib advertised made-to-order cases), they had issues including weight and susceptibility to water damage. Also, because their construction required woodworking, making them required a trained labor pool.
In ’68, Martin began offering its D-45 with a case made of injection-molded plastic and a foam lining that had a tendency to expand; leaving guitars in one for extended periods often resulted in crush damage. In 1970, they redesigned the case, making it from blue ABS plastic with a pseudo-leather texture. Known as the 600 series, it had a blue plush interior lining and a layer of polyurethane foam under the lining. Built by Alfred Freistat, Martin advertised the case as “virtually uncrushable, with unified, lightweight thermal protection.” They were certainly more water-resistant and lighter than their wooden predecessors, but many came to dislike their appearance and prominent logo, believing it caused them more likely to be targeted by thieves. They were also less resistant to impact, making them susceptible to hinges and latches being broken off or becoming semi-functional.
In ’79, the Martin 600 cases retailed for $105, and a style HD-28 to carry inside it was $1,145 more. At only nine percent of the guitar price, they represented a significant decrease in relative cost.
One of the earliest companies to follow Martin with injection-molded cases was Ovation. By May of ’72, its model 9110 case was $73.50, and the shape of its extruded foam mirrored the parabolic plastic back of the instruments, making is usable only for Ovation instruments. A Balladeer retailed at $265 (the case 28 percent of that), while the Glen Campbell model was $365, so a case added 20 percent.
A ’41 Gibson SJ-100 in its Geib & Schaefer #606 “red line” case.
To increase profit, retailers often made separate deals with case manufacturers. However, beginning in 1970, Martin guitars were sold only as a “uni-pack” (with case) and were mandatory for dealers – likely the first example of any such requirement.
Major U.S. manufacturers of traditional cases fared okay for several years, until the market came to heavily favor the plastic variety, and until the U.S. economy experienced a decline in the early ’80s, which eventually helped put builders like Geib, Lifton, and Ess & Ess out of business. Remaining traditional cases were often not of the best quality, but demand for them never completely abated, creating an opening for Canadian and Asian companies. These exact circumstances caused Taylor Guitars to begin building cases in-house.
Today, the D-28 Marquis has a list price of $5,339, which includes $460 for the Geib replica #545 case, which equates to only 8.6 percent of the cost of the guitar.
(LEFT TO RIGHT) The Faultless #418 “red line” case represented a significant co-investment for those who bought a Gibson flat-top beginning in the 1930s. The Geib replica #545 case sold with modern Martin guitars makes up less than 10 percent of the cost of the guitar. Martin’s 600 series case fell out of favor because players believed the large logo made them targets for thieves.
Using the Bureau of Labor Statistics inflation-adjustment calculator, the ’36 D-28 would cost $1,731 in today’s dollars, while the Style D case would be $467 ($27 in ’36). After adjustment for inflation, the traditional-design modern case is about the same as it was in ’36. Performing the calculation in reverse, the D-28 Marquis would have been priced at $308 in ’36, the D-28 Authentic 1937 at $469.71, and the Geib case would be $26.57.
Cases for electric guitars followed a similar pattern. In April of ’54, Fender advertised its best “Spanish electric” hard case (for Telecaster or Stratocaster) at $39.95. At that time, a Telecaster sold for $189.50 (list), while the Strat was $249.50. A case required an additional 21 percent for a Tele and 16 percent for the Strat. Today, adjusted retail price on a ’52 reissue American Vintage Telecaster is $1,879 after a $119.99 deduction of the Deluxe Vintage Tweed case, representing six percent of the cost of the guitar. A ’56 reissue American Vintage Strat has an adjusted retail of $2,179 and is supplied with the same case at five percent of the cost of the guitar.
Present-day manufacturers of heavy-duty road cases like Calton (fiberglass or carbon fiber construction) and Hoffee (carbon-fiber construction) have no pre-World War II equivalents. However, at an average suggested retail price of $1,000, they approach the cost percentages of their less-protective pre-war predecessors (unless they’re used to house a guitar valued at more than $18,000).
Changes in materials and manufacturing have reduced the cost of protecting a guitar, even in the face of increased labor costs and inflation. With the decimation of American manufacturers and radical expansion of guitar production, no U.S.-based manufacturer of traditional cases could keep up with demand, so the influx of Asian and Canadian-made cases helps fill the gap.
This article originally appeared in VG February 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Sean Wright’s love for guitars and electronics has resulted in a family business that realizes his vision of stompbox perfection. Throw in the business savvy of wife Colette, and Lollygagger FX is turning heads with handmade pedals featuring rugged tones and unique aesthetics.
Lollygagger FX’s flagship model is the Canaglia Overdrive. Advertised as a gain-shaper rather than a tone-shaper, the Canaglia pushes an amplifier’s natural breakup to elicit a wider range of overdriven sounds.
The Canaglia’s most striking feature is its super-solid enclosure. Wright uses hardwoods and a variety of colors including Ocean Green, Vintage Red, Natural Amber Tint, Black Wash, Island Blue, and Purple Reign. He’ll even take requests. Each pedal is hand-wired and true-bypass.
A cranked Marshall combo and a Fender Pro Reverb were put to use with single-coil and humbucker guitars. Plugging the Canaglia into a 9-volt adapter (it also runs on 18 volts) and starting with the controls at 12 o’clock, morbidly obese garage rawk erupted. Nasty power chords became the order of the day as slick achievement-level pyrotechnics gave way to meat-and-potatoes simplicity showcasing the pedal’s clarity, power, and ballsy sustain.
The Post knob acts as the volume control; the Gain and Pre controls consort to dial in saturation and boost. The Pre knob controls the gain going into the Post knob circuit, while the Bypass switches the gain on and off, allowing the pedal to go from an affected rhythm setting to bodacious lead tones in a pinch. There’s also a Bypass switch and an On/Off button.
But the Canaglia isn’t all power and muscle. Dial it back for some crusty southern rock, gnarly Brit-rock, or hostile blues. It can add a bit of growly low-end to humbuckers, but single-coils benefit the most.
The Canaglia Overdrive’s polarizing personality will speak to the brash, rocking purist who likes a big hairy sound with teeth.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Michigan may have given us the automobile production line, but Troy-based Iconix Pickups is the antithesis of an assembly line operation, and now Iconix is building quality pickups for a genre befitting the region’s history of heavy industry: metal.
Iconix guru Don Smith builds his designs using the same scatter-wound technique as early pickup makers. The signature touch that each maker has in guiding the fine wire ultimately adds personality to a pickup, much as a luthier-built guitar bears the stamp of its maker. Smith even hand-cuts each pickup’s maple spacers and degausses and recharges his rough-cut, unpolished magnets.
The Iconix Black Mass set, demoed in a Les Paul Studio, comes with black surrounds, hex-head pole pieces, and a coverless glossy black finish. The neck pickup is made with an Alnico V magnet measuring approximately 11k; the bridge is an Alnico VIII at about 14k. These pickups are designed to drive an amp and speaker cab hard.
Through a Marshall JCM800 half-stack EQ’d flat and clean, the Black Masses sang with distinct clarity. Balance between the bridge and neck was excellent, and the combination rang strongly with little volume loss due to frequency cancellation. When the preamp was dialed up, with the mids dipped and the bass increased, the half-stack started trembling before the Master hit 5. Driving and spitting yet carefully delineated eighth-note chord riffs, a characteristic metal style, demanded controlled pick technique, as the Black Masses exposed every sloppy downstroke. Either pickup alone and in combination had the beefy sustain necessary for satisfying long tones and clean hammered-on or tapped solo lines.
Commanding the huge force of a Marshall is like driving a Detroit-made truck downhill with a full load of Michigan timber. Iconix Black Mass pickups could help give added control over that awesome power, but fingers and talent are ultimately responsible. Practice…
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Until 1928 the largest and loudest guitar in C. F. Martin’s catalog was their 12-fret 000-sized guitar. Until the OM premiered in 1929, the 12-fret body was also the standard shape for all Martin flattops.
The late Charles Sawtelle, guitarist in the Colorado bluegrass band Hot Rize, was an avid vintage guitar collector. One of his go-to instruments was a ’29 Martin 000-45. Now Oregon-based luthier Preston Thompson, who considered Sawtelle a friend and mentor, has created an instrument based closely on Sawtelle’s Martin. If you long for that vintage 12-fret mid-sized Martin sound but can’t find a vintage example to your liking, Thompson’s re-creation – the 12-Fret 000 – might be the perfect solution.
The review instrument arrived with a full complement of stunning, quality materials, workmanship, and components – East Indian rosewood body, Adirondack spruce top, slotted headstock with ebony overlay, three-ring rosette and herringbone top trim, nitro finish, ziz-zag back strip, hand-graduated top, advanced X-scalloped prewar-style bracing, Waverly nickel tuners, ebony fretboard and bridge, and a bone nut and saddle, not to mention an extremely heavy-duty professional hardshell case.
Though the majority of Thompson’s output comprises custom orders, occasionally he makes a “standard” model. The 12 Fret 000 is one of those. Upon opening the case the most immediately noticeable feature was the guitar’s Adirondack spruce top, which had an almost bone-white color and a tight grain near the center that expanded into wider grain as it reached the outer edges and the herringbone trim. The Indian rosewood back and sides exhibited a rich color and nice straight grain similar to what one is accustomed to seeing on vintage Martins – and unlike the swirly and less stable rosewood common on some new instruments.
The review sample had a 25.4″ scale length, but is also available with a shorter scale length if desired. The mahogany neck had a single-action adjustable truss rod with the nut located inside the body. The neck profile was classically round with a very mild canoe shape.
The string setup on the review guitar was a bit high, but the instrument played easily even above the fifth fret. Intonation was spot-on – a Peterson strobe tuner confirmed just how on-pitch the 000 remained even during a note’s decay.
Many small-bodied guitars have small sound with limited bass response. That tendency certainly is not true of the Thompson 000. Not only does this guitar have bass – “like a cannon shot” in Charles Sawtelle’s words – but substantial volume, as well. In a guitar duet with a dreadnaught, the 000 had no trouble making itself heard.
The 000’s tone and harmonic balance were outstanding, especially for such a new instrument. Individual notes all over the neck were articulate, while chords, especially when pushed, had that characteristic vintage Martin rumble.
Even with resources like the Internet and all the big guitar shows that now abound, finding a vintage instrument in the right condition with the right feel and sound can sometimes be difficult. Preston Thompson’s new 12 Fret 000 gives guitarists who pine for a vintage 000 the option of owning a guitar with exactly the specifications they want. I suspect that the review sample won’t remain in the inventory at Telluride Music for long – it’s simply that good.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The Beatles helped popularize Vox amps, and Sir Paul tours with them today because they still have that sound – classic chime and overdriven grind.
Introduced in ’59, Vox’s AC30 delivers 30 watts of brilliant, jangly top-end with help from a quartet of EL84 tubes. Listen to the Beatles, early Stones, Queen, or U2 and you get the idea.
This AC30CH (Custom Head) version revives the classic head-and-cab setup and updates it with the company’s reactive attenuator, which produces the same overdrive and grind whether played in a bedroom or onstage. In simple terms even us guitarists can comprehend, by controlling the voltage, the attenuator allows you to play “loud” even at low volume.
What are the advantages of the separate head and cabinet? Portability, for one thing. AC30 combos are infamous backbreakers. The head here tips the scales at a respectable 41 pounds, while the 49-pound cab is bulky but feels featherlight in comparison to a combo.
That portability ultimately means versatility. You can plug into one of Vox’s other cabinets – say, the hand-wired V212HWX with dual Celestion Blue Alnicos – or one of your own.
For the price, however, the V212C cab is a deal. It’s hand-wired and loaded with a pair of Celestion G12M Greenbacks that simply sound right when coupled with the AC30. You get all the chime and grind without the wallet-weakening cost.
The head includes both tremolo – a common vintage AC30 component – and a spring reverb, which back in the day was included on special models.
Playing a ’65 Rickenbacker 365 through the AC30CH is a step back in time. The Normal channel provides a dry, crisp tone. Switch to Vox’s fabled treble-amplifying Top Boost, and all that classic Beatles bite comes alive.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Issued during Gibson’s infamous “Norlin era,” the original RD Artist has become surprisingly collectible over the years, thanks to its melted-Firebird shape and active electronics from the Moog synthesizer folks. Now, the reissue masters at Eastwood have resurrected the RD with some differences, including a price below the four-figure values of vintage models.
Eastwood’s RD Artist has a basswood body, set and bound maple neck, block pearloid inlays, rosewood fingerboard with 22 frets, black pickguard, chrome hardware, and original headstock shape, a neck cutaway that allows easy access to the 20th fret, and an unusual 25.5″ scale (Gibson’s standard is 24.75″).
Sounds are courtesy of two humbuckers (with individual Volume controls and a master Tone) and Eastwood’s battery-powered Transwarp Drive treble boost, activated with a toggle on the front.
Weighing about 7.5 pounds, the Eastwood is a formidable piece of basswood, but comfortable and solid-feeling. Its neck was set up nicely, displaying the large-D profile so popular these days and sporting a low, quick action. Running through a variety of amps, the axe was a solid tonal performer with a massive rock persona with the Transwarp Drive engaged for riffs, solos, or your standard Aerosmith, Heart, or Styx medley. The booster really gave the output a smack in the face as well as a monster boost in volume (there is a trim control in the control cavity).
It’s easy to like the Eastwood RD. It’s not light, but balances nicely and has all-around good construction and reasonable hardware. Loaded with ’70s appeal, it’s an excellent value with a retro vibe for players who look back on the Norlin era with a degree of fondness. There are more of us out there than you think.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
