St. Blues Scoundrel
Price: $1,898 (list)/$1,349 (street)
Contact: www.saintblues.com
Intended as a versatile instrument for the player with a budget for just one boutique guitar, the St. Blues Scoundrel is a double-cutaway with a P-90 in the neck position and a humbucker in the bridge. There’s a bolt-on maple neck with maple fingerboard (also available in pau ferro), and the controls are on the lower bout Tele-style, minus the control plate. The trem is from Wilkinson, as are staggered tuners that enhance sustain by eliminating the string tree. If it seems like a mongrel mix, don’t be fooled – the Scoundrel is of fine pedigree thanks largely to the pickup configuration.
Both Kent Armstrong pickups are made for 24.75″ guitars. The Scoundrel, however, has a 25.5″ scale, like a Strat or Tele. In the bridge position, Armstrong’s JB humbucker offers a great combination of bite and body – both snap and twang like a Fender and the broader harmonic range of a Gibson. Overdriven, it’s tight and punchy. The neck position yields the warm tone of a classic P-90. With the Tone knob at its brightest, the P-90 is chimey; rolling the tone back a bit makes for a brown and slightly muted timbre, good for fat, long-sustaining melody lines or big rhythm beds.
St. Blues draws on the best qualities of these pickups for the middle position, where the tone is brassy on the top and ballsy on the bottom. Full chords bubble out of the amp in plump spheres. On single-note lines, the tone is very vocal-like. The middle position recalls Jimmy Page’s clean and shimmery electric (think “The Rain Song”) thanks to coil-splitting the humbucker and blending it with a coil-tap from the P-90 so you’re hearing a single coil from the bridge humbucker and a partially bypassed coil from the neck P-90. With so much character in that middle position, it’s inviting to explore what nuances can be brought out.
The “soft” C-shaped neck (10″ radius with nickel 6150 medium jumbo frets) is fluid and forgiving. The deep cut at the pocket allows for full access up the 22 frets. The bridge-position pickup blade runs close to the Volume pot, making it a bit tricky to flip with a pinky on the go, but the Volume is comfortably within reach for swells.
For all that it offers, the Scoundrel looks pretty unassuming. The review model had a matte finish over a soft Tobacco Burst (also available in Honeyburst, Delta Rust, and Blue Suede) with the nicely figured alder grain visible. But beware; small-batch production is the name of the game at St. Blues. It keeps quality high and players happy. The Scoundrel’s first run sold out fast. You might want to get on this puppy.
This article originally appeared in VG December 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
It’s hard not to be impressed by the physical presence of the Crucial Audio Echo-Nugget. Unlike typical small-footprint stompboxes, the Echo-Nugget is a beast, measuring approximately 6″ x 8″ x 3″ and weighing a few pounds. Before it’s even plugged in, its heft, solid build, and layout earn points. But the ace up its sleeve is Crucial Audio’s combination of a real tube preamp and analog delay.
Technical specs on this mighty box include a pair of 12AX7 preamp tubes and a bucket-brigade analog circuit providing up to 500 milliseconds of delay. There are Time, Repeats, and Mix controls for the delay section, and footswitchable Output and Tone controls for the preamp. The box also has high- and low-impedance inputs for regular passive magnetic and active pickups, respectively.
Plugged in and on the job, the Echo-Nugget is pretty exciting, thanks especially to that old-school vibe – real analog circuits and tubes hard at work in an era of instant digital delay. The delay controls are easy to manipulate. Time lets the user dial in the degree of delay while Repeats sets the fade time. Mix allows the user to set the level of the echo effect – from wet-and-sloppy to just a smidge of delay in the distance. Unlike digital delays with LED readouts, there’s nothing on the Echo-Nugget to tell the player exactly what millisecond they’re on, aside from a pulsating yellow light that blinks in rhythm with the corresponding delay time. Turn the knob down, and the light blinks faster in time with the shorter time between echoes. Turn it up and the echoes are farther apart, hence a slower-blinking light. The circuit sounds great and provides everything from rockabilly slap-back and standard rock delay to Albert Lee-style “cascade” echo. The Tone knob can be used to sweeten the effect as desired.
On the tube side, the 12AX7s add a fine boost and “sauce thickener” to the proceedings. In fact, turn the echo side off, and the right half of the Echo-Nugget functions as a stand-alone tube preamp. How cool is that? The only caveat is that the box has a large footprint on a pedalboard. It’s not cheap, either. But no question, you get what you pay for.
The Crucial Audio Echo-Nugget is a hip piece of guitar gear that not only looks old-school with its gold anodized finish and chickenhead knobs, but conjures vintage tones with ease. All told, this is a great pedal for guitarists who value tone and build quality above all else – a serious box for serious tone merchants.
This article originally appeared in VG December 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
1965 Vox AC50 Photo: Val Rothwell, amp courtesy of Jack Wright.
Vox AC50 Preamp tubes: one ECC82 (12AU7), three ECC83 (12AX7)
Output tubes: two EL34s, fixed-biased
Rectifier: solidstate
Controls: Volume, Treble and Bass for each channel.
Output: nominally 50 watts RMS, but upward of 70 watts flat-out.
Where the evolution of guitar amplification in general traces musicians’ needs to be louder, the history of Vox follows, in particular, The Beatles’ need to play louder. And this was a very real need indeed, with thousands-strong crowds of screaming teenage girls drowning out the Fab Four’s live shows with frustrating regularity. Vox founder Tom Jennings and his head engineer Dick Denney might have doubled the power of the AC15 to produce the concert-ready AC30 for Hank Marvin and the Shadows, who performed both as a solo instrumental act and as Cliff Richard’s backing band, but their AC50 was the result of a desperate effort to help the world’s most popular band to be heard.
Virtually running to keep up with the pace of The Beatles’ popularity, Denney developed the AC50 late in 1963 by first modifying existing speaker cabinets, and quickly getting together the amplifier chassis to do the job, rather than the more-intensive R&D venture devoted to the flagship AC30 earlier in the decade. As Denney told author Andy Babiuk in Beatles Gear, “I made up the first one using an AC30 cabinet with two 12″ speakers plus a ‘horn’ speaker for more top end. The horn didn’t fit, so I cut a hole for it in the back of the cabinet. I didn’t have the time to make up a new cabinet, because we had to get them their new amps. There was always a rush.”
As a result, the first AC50s were delivered to George Harrison and John Lennon as custom-made, single-channel heads and modified cabs ready just in time for the band’s Christmas ’64 concerts in Finsbury Park, London. At the same time, Denney concocted the prototype of the AC100, given to Paul McCartney to replace a solidstate Vox T-60 bass amp that wasn’t cutting it, volume-wise. The first production AC50s, which hit the market early in ’64, were also single-channel amps, initially with compact “small box” cabinets, with a larger head shell introduced later in the year. Both had GZ34 tube rectifiers like the AC30 (and Marshall’s JTM45, for that matter). The AC50 head’s initial retail price of just under £100, equivalent to nearly $2,000 today, might make you feel a little better about the supposedly high prices of contemporary “boutique” amps, considering the big Vox’s paucity of features.
The first two-channel AC50s arrived around August of ’64. Rare early examples of this incarnation had the iconic early brown-diamond Vox grillecloth, but by the fall of that year they were dressed in the black-diamond cloth of the outstanding ’65 AC50 you see here. Also gone was the tube rectifier, replaced by more-robust solidstate diode rectification. Otherwise, the two-channel AC50 was much like its single-channel predecessor, electronically, although it split the MkI and MkII’s voice-for-all-seasons preamp into Normal and Brilliant channels, with slight changes in the voicing of the early gain stages of each, to suit bass and lead guitar respectively (much as did Fender’s blackface Bassman head and many Marshall heads). As the conjoined goals for this design were clarity and headroom, Denney used the two halves of a low-gain ECC82 (12AU7) preamp tube as the first gain stage for each channel, with a 500pF coupling capacitor from the Brilliant channel to the next stage to accentuate its highs, and a more-standard .022uF coupling cap on the Normal channel for a fuller, more balanced tone. The former also included a bright cap on its Volume control. Both channels used the same value of 25uF bypass cap around the cathode-bias resistor of the ECC82 – rather than giving the Brilliant channel more crunch with, for example, a .68uF cap as Marshall would use – though the first gain stage in the Brilliant channel was biased hotter. Otherwise, they were identical from here on out.
Next, each channel went on to its own ECC83 (12AX7) cathode-follower tone stack with Treble and Bass controls (no midrange), a useful bid for independent EQ that made these genuine two-channel amps throughout, where rivals Marshall, and eventually Hiwatt, had shared EQ stages. A conventional long-tailed-pair phase inverter continued the bid for a bold, tight tone and passed the signal along to a pair of EL34 output tubes with individual bias-adjust pots that made it easy to balance the bias of mismatched pairs. Interestingly, Vox had used EL34s in very rare early renditions of the AC30, as Jim Elyea examines in great detail in his book, Vox Amplifiers: The JMI Years, though higher B+ voltages and a fixed-bias, class AB output stage (rather than the AC30’s cathode-biased class A design) helped these tall British bottles produce a lot more oomph in the AC50. A MkIII AC50 in good condition, with fresh biased tubes, can be loud. Very loud. Running full tilt, an AC50 in good condition can deliver significantly more than its stated 50 watts, even upward of 65 or 70 watts, and more than that at its peaks. Between the gutsy output stage and the efficient low-gain preamp, these amps go a long way toward their maximum potential before sliding into significant crunch, too. This amp’s owner, Jack Wright, says he gets to the breakup zone quicker with a Les Paul and a treble booster, where he finds it “sits somewhere between a [Marshall] JTM50 and a Hiwatt.” The amp was used on several Beatles recordings of the mid ’60s and can be heard – though barely – on much of the live concert-film footage from the same period that you might stumble upon.
That the AC50 ultimately failed at its goal, one might argue, despite being an impressively loud “50-watt amp” – The Beatles abandoning live performance after ’66 in the face of virtually inaudible stage volume levels – is no judgment on the success of the amp itself, merely testament to the power of pubescent hysteria. Later MkIV AC50s gained a little more preamp crunch and a more traditional mids-forward guitar tone in general when an ECC83 (12AX7) became standard equipment in the first gain stage in place of the tighter, cleaner ECC82. Elyea’s book further tells us that as many as 7,000 AC50s were produced in the JMI years up to the end of the ’60s, with a further 1,200 or so manufactured by Dallas Arbiter and subsequent owners of the Vox brand into the mid ’70s.
This article originally appeared in VG September 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The Recording King Ray Whitley Model 1027 (left) and Model 1028.
As a maker of high-quality instruments, Gibson was hit hard by the onset of the Depression in the 1930s. Company president Guy Hart, a former accountant, recognized that Gibson could not survive by simply waiting for better times, and he took action, diverting some guitar production to wooden toys, creating the Kalamazoo line of budget-priced instruments and taking on contract work for outside distributors.
The most successful of these distributor’s brands made by Gibson were Recording King (sold by Montgomery Ward) and Cromwell (distributed by Grossman, Richter & Phillips, Gretsch & Brenner, and Continental). Gibson made several archtop acoustic models under the Recording King and Cromwell brands that would be considered at least borderline high-end guitars. The best of all of the contract models, however, were a pair of dreadnought-sized flat-tops made for Recording King and endorsed by cowboy movie star Ray Whitley. Model 1027 had rosewood back and sides and Model 1028 had mahogany back and sides.
Gibson’s relationship with Montgomery Ward began in the spring of 1931 with a deep-bodied flat-top similar to Gibson’s Nick Lucas model. Two years later, Ward contracted with Gibson to produce a squat-bodied flat-top similar to the Kalamazoo KG-11 that was endorsed by country singer/songwriter Carson Robison.
By 1937, Ward was offering more than a dozen Recording King flat-tops and archtop models made by Gibson. Buyers may or may not have recognized the body styles and workmanship as Gibson’s, but none of the Recording Kings (or Kalamazoos or any other non-Gibson branded instruments) had Gibson’s patented adjustable truss rod in the neck.
That same year, Ray Whitley visited the Gibson factory in Kalamazoo. Born in Atlanta in 1901, Whitley was raised on a farm, where he learned to rope and ride well enough to become a rodeo performer, specializing in tricks with the bullwhip. He moved to New York in 1930 as a construction worker, but quickly launched his musical career on WMCA radio with his group, The Range Ramblers. He had made one marginally successful stab at a film career, returned to New York, and was ready to give Hollywood another try when he ordered a custom guitar from Gibson.
Gibson had great timing in introducing the Nick Lucas Special endorsement model in 1927. Lucas was well-known as a singer and guitarist but his career – along with exposure for his Gibson model – took a giant leap in 1929 when he performed “Tip-toe Through the Tulips” in the film Gold Diggers of Broadway. Gibson had a similar opportunity with Whitley, who took his new Western-trimmed “super jumbo” Gibson to Hollywood, landed a contract with RKO Pictures in ’38, and became a familiar face in Western movies (albeit mostly in the role of a sidekick). He also wrote “Back in the Saddle Again,” which he introduced in the 1938 film Border G-Man and which, with a rewrite from Gene Autry, became Autry’s theme song a year later. And he managed the Sons of the Pioneers, during the period when the group included Len Slye (soon to be Roy Rogers).
Gibson actually received great benefits – at no cost to the company – from Whitley’s cowboy friends in Hollywood. Gibson catalogs pictured all the Western film stars who had ordered a Super Jumbo for themselves, including Gene Autry, Ray “Crash” Corrigan, and Tex Ritter. Perhaps Gibson didn’t feel the need to reward Whitley with a formal endorsement model, but Montgomery Ward seized the opportunity.
In the spring catalog for ’39, Ward introduced Model 1027, featuring Whitley’s signature on the headstock. It was not similar to the Gibson SJ-200 that Whitley had helped introduce. If Whitley or Ward had asked for a similar model, it’s likely Gibson would not have wanted to dissipate the excitement that the SJ-200 was generating. Instead, the Whitley model was based on another relatively new Gibson – the Advanced Jumbo. Like the AJ, which had been introduced in ’36, the Recording King Whitley had Gibson’s round-shouldered dreadnought body with rosewood back and sides. Also like the AJ, the Whitley had an X-braced top. Virtually every other flat-top model that Gibson made under a contract brand (or under the Kalamazoo brand, for that matter) had lateral bracing. The bound fingerboard had small diamond inlays, unlike that of any Gibson. The bridge was an elegant new three-point design (which Gibson would soon introduce on its J-55 model), and the oversized pickguard was also unique to the model. The only Gibson element the Whitley model lacked was an adjustable truss, which Gibson never installed in anything but a Gibson.
In the fall of ’39, Montgomery Ward introduced a second Ray Whitley signature model (1028), also an X-braced dreadnought, but with mahogany back and sides. The fingerboard inlay was less elaborate – simple pearl dots – and the bridge on most examples was the rectangular-style Gibson used on its standard mahogany dreadnought, the J-35. Again, the only significant difference between the Whitley and a Gibson was the lack of a truss rod, and this mahogany Whitley delivers the same power and tone one would expect from a J-35.
Shipping totals compiled by Gibson employee Julius Bellson show the rosewood model (1027) got off to a good start, with 171 instruments shipped in ’39. In 1940, however, only nine were shipped, for a total of 180. The less-expensive mahogany model (1028) shipped 116 in ’39 and another 116 in 1940, for a total of 232.
By ’39, Gibson was enjoying a resurgence of sales of Gibson-branded models and booming business with its Kalamazoo line, and the company began winding down its contract production. In 1939-’40, 232 mahogany Whitley (1028) models were sold, making it the best-selling Gibson contract model for any outside distributor for that two-year period – a testament to the quality of the model.
Whitley never achieved the star status of Autry or Rogers, but he had a solid career, making 54 films for RKO and performing at the Venice Pier and other Southern California venues. Full recognition of his accomplishments didn’t come until after his death in 1979. He was inducted posthumously into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame and the Western Music Association Hall of Fame. His prototype J-200 is currently displayed at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. And guitar players and collectors are just beginning to fully appreciate his Recording King models.
This article originally appeared in VG September 2010 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Since its appearances in the Austin Powers movies, Musicvox guitars have received a cachet for cool ’60s hipness and wicked space-age designs. Their latest axe, the MI-5 12-string, continues that tradition with a double-cutaway body shape that sports an extra-long bottom horn. Let’s explore this groove machine.
This Korean-made guitar has a solid mahogany body with a bolt-on maple neck and rosewood fingerboard. It weighs 7.4 pounds, and has a 243/4″ scale, 111/16″ nut width, one control each for Volume and Tone, plus a three-way pickup switch. Twangability comes courtesy of Musicvox Special Vintage humbuckers in Filtertron-style housings. There’s also a beveled three-ply pearloid pickguard, triple-bound body, tune-o-matic-style bridge and tailpiece, and a mondo open-face headstock with Kluson-style tuners. In old-school style, the paired tuners point outward and backward. Our test guitar was finished in black with pearloid block inlays akin to that on a Les Paul Custom. Color options include Seafoam Green, Candy Apple Red, Silver Sparkle, Gold Sparkle, White (with gold hardware), and Taxi Yellow.
When you pick up the MI-5, its shorter, Les-Paul-like scale might throw you for a second. The bridge is set back, creating a compact design, but give it a few strums and you’ll begin to dig its unique vibe – quite likeable – and the bolt-on neck is easy to grab and play.
Plugged into a modeling amp, the MI-5 covered a lot of ground. Flipping between pickups, the bridge delivered thinner/’60s jangle, with some icy highs for playing Byrds, Marshall Crenshaw, or The Police (use the Tone knob to temper that treble, if you like). The neck pickup, meanwhile, brought on fat, warm, and almost acoustic-like tones, more like classic George Harrison or Jimmy Page. The MI-5 sounded great with various effects ladled on, notably reverb, chorus, and generous dollops of tremolo. Crank up the overdrive and it moves nicely into Rush territory where you can conjure Alex-Lifeson-style chords using shimmering open strings – strong and authentic.
Musicvox has another winner on its hands. Aside from the shorter-feeling scale, most will have to get used to the tuners. But again, it’s a classic configuration that has worked for nearly 50 years. More importantly, the tuners hold tune, which is critical with a 12-string. Add their good tone, a nice design (dig that triangular pickguard!), and that all-important vintage jangle, and you have a fine electric 12-string on your hands. You may not put it down for awhile.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Because I don’t know what to call this Gibson guitar, I refer to it as a “Florentine,” for lack of a better name. Though the body decoration is unlike any cataloged Gibson guitar, the fingerboard and headstock ornamentation is almost identical to Gibson’s Florentine banjo (made between 1927 and ’37). In size, shape, construction and woods, it is identical to a late-’20s style L-1, but “L-1” seems inadequate to describe this instrument.
Perhaps we should call it a “Venetian.” It is a mystery why Gibson named its banjo after the Italian city of Florence and then ornamented it with scenes of Venice. Similarly, the companion banjo to the Florentine was described in the catalog as having “Spanish”-style ornamentation and yet it was called by an Italian name, “Bella Voce.”
In any case, the Italian nomenclature that began with these banjos has persistently recurred in association with the Florentine solidbody mandolin, for instance, or the “Florentine” and “Venetian” cutaway descriptions that today have achieved common usage even outside the Gibson line. I have no idea how or why the Italian names came about, but there is no doubt they have been effective.
In the late ’20s and ’30s, Gibson and many other manufacturers decorated guitar bodies (usually only the tops) with stenciled scenes or patterns over a standard finish, but this is the first guitar I have ever seen – Gibson or otherwise – that is completely hand-painted. Except for the bridge and binding, the top, back and sides are totally covered. The back of the neck is also painted, except for the area behind the first 10 frets, where the player’s hand would have rubbed away any paint, had it been applied.
The Gibson company was founded for the purpose of building carved-body guitars and mandolin-family instruments. The first Gibson flat-tops had slightly arched tops and backs. The GY (Army-Navy) model was introduced in December 1918, then the flat-top L-1 and L-0 were introduced in 1926. During the first five or so years of flat-top production, Gibson offered only the “L” series guitars (initially the L-0 and L-1, and then the L-2) and the Nick Lucas Special, with tenor and plectrum versions available in 1928. Originally, the L-series guitars all had the same rounded body shape adopted from their predecessor, the archtop L-1. A variety of bracing patterns, beginning with a classical-type fan bracing, was used during this period, as were a variety of bridge styles. By about 1931, all of the L-series guitars had been changed to a more elongated body shape, similar to that of the then-popular Martin 00-size guitar, and “X” bracing was standard.
This Florentine guitar has the early, rounded, L body style and the bridge is one of several typical early variations. The bracing pattern, characterized by an inverted “V” below the soundhole, is the immediate predecessor of the “X” pattern. The guitar has no serial number by which to pinpoint the exact date of manufacture, but the structural features indicate it was made in the late 1920s. It has a spruce top, mahogany back, sides and neck, a bolted-on bridge, 19 frets, and a 24-inch scale. It measures 13 5/8 inches wide and 4 1/8 inches deep. These features are typical enough of an L-1, but that is where the similarity ends.
I have seen custom Gibson guitars with rhinestone-studded headstocks, and of course, pearloid fingerboards are not unknown, the Century model being an excellent example. Gibson banjo ornamentation has often crossed over into guitar decoration. We have seen the rhinestone pattern on this guitar’s headstock duplicated on Florentine banjos, but it is much less common than the standard Florentine peghead inlay which looks similar to a floral bouquet. The fingerboard, on the other hand, is all but identical to that of the banjo, allowing for the difference in size. Tiny scenes of Venice, each with water in the foreground and clouds in the sky, have been etched into the pearloid at marker positions. Each scene was tinted, and a thin layer of lacquer was applied overall. The engraved, gold-plated tuners have pearl buttons and though they do not function any better than the standard, they are a cosmetic upgrade from standard L-1 tuners.
The guitar’s wood body appears to have been left unfinished for the paint to be applied. The painting was done in oil colors, applied with minimal physical texture, then lacquered over. Again, scenes of Venice were depicted. As is typical, the lacquer has yellowed with age and dimmed the color. A combination of yellowed lacquer and the fading of the scenes’ tint has reduced the fingerboard etchings to a sepia tone. In spite of this, the guitar is still very colorful. The fingerboard has blues, reds and yellows against white pearloid. Judging from the small spots where the lacquer has chipped away, the body was brilliant. Under the lacquer the sky is a bright “robin’s egg” blue and the water is an intense, deeper shade. An eye-opener even today, this guitar must have been spectacular when new.
The guitar may well be one-of-a-kind. I obtained it from a trader in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It seems a disproportionate number of non-catalog models are from close proximity to the Gibson factory. Perhaps it belonged to an employee of the Gibson factory or being close to the factory made it easier for folks to make their spacal wants known.
Though not at all practical from a player’s point of view, this is certainly a beautiful instrument. Although pictured with strings, it is not playable. The top crack visible in the upper bout is unstable, but repair might damage the painting. Also, you can see that playing has already worn paint off the top, next to the soundhole. The guitar is such a work of art that being limited to display doesn’t seem much of a limit at all. Many hours of work went into the decoration of this instrument, and that certainly has not been wasted. The guitar can still command the eye, if not the ear.
This article originally appeared in Vintage Guitar magazine’s January 1997 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Saga Gitane DG-250M
Price: $949
Info: www.sagamusic.com
Features: Open-gear 14:1-ratio tuners, solid spruce top with “petite bouche” oval soundhole, birdseye maple back and sides, ebony fingerboard, maple neck, zero fret, bone nut, mustache bridge, Selmer-style tailpiece, wood binding.
Saga Instruments has established itself as a keeper of the vintage flame: the company, with its Chinese manufacturing plants, has evolved a series of historically-based instruments that are highly affordable, very modern, yet redolent of vintage vibe.
The Gitane DG-250M, based on a limited-edition Selmer from the 1940s, is another in this line of vintage inspirations from Saga, which includes other Gypsy jazz guitars in the Gitane line, resophonics from Regal, and well-received fingerpicker and flatpicker favorites from Blueridge.
The review DG-250M came out of the case in perfect tune with itself, although over a half-tone flat for shipping. I knocked out a couple of choruses of “Oh, Lady Be Good” without touching the tuners, then grudgingly took the time to tune up to pitch.
Until then, I didn’t know I preferred ’40s-style blonds!
This little blond has some interesting vital statistics. First, the 265/8″-scale neck is made of figured, flatsawn maple. The neck is a generous 13/4″ wide at the nut, carved very slim and comfortably rounded with shoulders. Unlike most Selmer-style guitars, this neck is topped by an unslotted headstock with a birdseye maple overlay and nickel-plated, open-gear tuners, but traditional Selmer details reappear with the zero fret, undersized nut, ebony fingerboard, and pearl dot inlays. The occasional players’ confusion raised by the presence of a 10th-fret inlay (in the European style) is counterbalanced by the faithfulness to the original details of ’40s Selmers. You’ll get used to it. A side dot at the 12th fret, though, would be helpful for up-the-neck runs.
The most unusual detail on the body of the Gitane DG-250M is the three-ply back and sides. During World War II, Selmer made a run of about 20 guitars with birdseye maple back and sides. Our review guitar, made to imitate these rare instruments, is generously covered with birdseyes, which wink up at you as you move the instrument to admire the undulating woodgrain as it refracts light. The plywood is not a cost-cutter; most original Selmer bodies featured plywood construction, except for the top (ironically, ’40s Selmer birdseye guitars were solid wood throughout, according to Francois Charle in The Story Of Maccaferri Selmer Guitars). Having owned a boutique Gypsy jazz guitar with solid wood back and sides, I think the triple-ply strategy works better. The extra resonance of solid-wood back and sides does not really serve the sprightly tone and aggressive cutting power of the Selmer-style instrument. Maple, hard as it is, provides an excellent body wood for the demands of Gypsy Jazz. Add the influence of the hard maple neck, and you have a lap-held weapon with the penetrating power of a laser.
As attractive as the maple body is, I was particularly impressed by the quality of the slightly arched spruce top. The straight, even grain and the “silk” effect that indicates perfect quartersawn stock are all indicative of the sophistication and power of Saga’s wood buyers. I have seen many Saga products, and have consistently noticed the tops are of a very high grade.
The guitar’s body made up of all this delicious-looking tonewood is 181/2″ long, 16″ wide at the lower bout and 111/4″ wide at the upper bout. The tapered body is 4″ deep at the tailblock. The classic compensated ebony mustache bridge features a two-footed center saddle that is moveable between the glued-on mustache ends. The “petite bouche” oval soundhole (23/4″ x 11/8″) is surrounded by an attractive wooden rosette, and the bindings and purflings are also made of a complimentary wood. The thin lacquer finish is clean and glossy, with a little evidence of sanding on the tapered heel.
A gold-plated Gypsy-approved tailpiece will accommodate both loop- and ball-end strings. Only the shiny plastic insert (Selmer used plastic, ebonite and rosewood) on the tailpiece detracts from the visual appeal of the guitar body from the front. If this guitar were mine to keep, I’d use a piece of 0000 steel wool to dull the gloss of the insert. This little effort makes it look like ebony from a few feet away.
When compared to a Gitane D hole DG-500, the DG-250M was considerably more aggressive in the high end. I also had an opportunity to play the guitar with New Orleans’ leading Gypsy Jazzer, Tony Green, alongside a 1990s Dupont “petite bouche,” an ’80s Saga “petite bouche,” and a pre-war Francesco Oliveri “grande bouche.” The new Gitane more than held its own volume-wise, with a head-register voice that nicely complimented the deeper chest-register sound of the solid wood Dupont. The restored Oliveri and the older Saga never had a chance.
Workmanship on this DG-250M is solid in most areas, though there’s a little woodfiller nestled into a few spots around the neck joint. The frets are highly polished, and play cleanly with a manouche-appropriate action of a strong 3/32″ at the 12th fret on the high E string.
Although a nice-quality Golden Gate CP 1510 case is supplied with the DG-250M, the guitar moved around a bit too much in it. Saga’s marketing department told me that a reissue Golden Gate Gypsy Jazz Guitar case has been approved for production.
The DG-250M was modeled from an original ’40s Selmer. At the Winter NAMM show, Djangophile John Jorgenson told us, “The Saga sounds remarkably better than the original.” Jorgenson liked the DG-250M so much, he asked Saga to build a signature model. I like this guitar enough to wish they’d name it after me. Unfortunately, it plays Gypsy jazz a lot better than I do!
This article originally appeared in VG May 2005 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Wood with his ’55 Fender Stratocaster in 2007. Photo: Neil Lupin/Getty Images.
“I’ve always wanted to rock,” gushes 63-year-old Ron Wood, whose journey from the shy 10-year-old washboard player in older brother Ted’s ’50s skiffle group to the renowned veteran guitarist in “The World’s Greatest Rock and Roll Band” has been one wild joyride.
Born Ronald David Wood on June 1, 1947, in London’s Hillingdon section to a family he describes as “water gypsies,” like most of his British contemporaries, Wood was also smitten by the first wave of American rockers. By ’64, the 17-year-old was proficient enough on guitar to join The Birds, an R&B-influenced outfit that was part of the first wave of English bands following the Beatles’ lead. After little commercial success, the group disbanded.
Wood’s first real break was joining the first edition of The Jeff Beck Group in 1968 as a bassist, along with a young gravely-voiced Rod Stewart on vocals. Following just two albums, Truth and Beck-Ola, Wood and Stewart left to join bassist Ronnie Lane, keyboardist Ian McLagen, and drummer Kenny Jones in The Faces. The band recorded hits like “Stay With Me,” albums like A Nod Is As Good As A Wink To A Blind Horse, and their shows provided heady competition for rivals like Led Zeppelin, The Who, and The Stones.
Soon however, Stewart’s career was sparked by solo smash singles like “Maggie May” and “I’m Losing You” and successful albums like Every Picture Tells A Story and Never A Dull Moment (featuring Wood’s very prominent input) before ego problems did in The Faces in ’75.
As fate would have it, Mick Taylor, the Stones’ talented lead guitarist, departed, leaving an opening for Wood. Names like Eric Clapton, Rory Gallagher, and even Jeff Beck were thrown about as Taylor replacements, and though like Taylor, all were more technically proficient guitarists, Wood, with his spiked hair, gaunt arms, and exuberant stage presence, was the perfect foil for the equally hard-living Keith Richards. Thirty-five years later, Woods has logged more time with the Stones than his two predecessors combined.
An accomplished painter as well as musician who has collaborated with such an array of legends ranging from B.B. King to David Bowie to Aretha Franklin, Wood has more than proved his worth with the Stones. The band’s most versatile onstage musician, fans are accustomed to seeing Wood switching from a seven-pedaled Emmons steel guitar (for songs like “Far Away Eyes” and “The Worst,”) to a baby sitar – either the Danelectro original or the Jerry Jones reissue for rainy outdoor shows on “Paint It Black” and “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” For the slow acoustic numbers, Wood enjoys the slide effects he elicits from a hollowbody Weisenborn (“No Expectations”). His acoustics include a Gibson J-200 and a Zemaitis adorned with silver. Other favorites include a custom Zemaitis electric he uses for rockers like “Rough Justice,” “You Got Me Rockin’,” and the classic “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’.” He also favors the unique “BBB” (black B-bender), a Ron Wood signature Fender Telecaster.
Wood’s most-used stage guitar is still his beloved ’55 Fender Stratocaster, while he’ll grab his prized original ’52 Telecaster for classics like “Honkey-Tonk Women.” And his readily identifiable slide sounds are partly the result of using slides fashioned by his guitar tech, Dave Rouze, using standard 3″ copper tubing.
While talk of a Stones tour in 2011 is being bandied about, Wood is focused on his new album, I Feel Like Playing (Eagle Records). His seventh solo effort, it’s his first in nine years. To get the raunchy no-frill rock-and-roll guitar sounds he is famous for, Wood used his trusty ’55 sunburst Strat, ’64 white Firebird reverse, red ’67 Strat, all cranked up through a ’50s Fender Tremolux, a ’56 Fender low-powered tweed Twin, a ’58 high-powered Twin, and a new Fender Vibro-King. To get an early Hank Marvin/Shadow’s sound when needed, Wood added a ’60 Watkins Dominator.
With an impressive cast of fellow rock-and-roll renegades including ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons, former Guns ’N Roses axeman Slash, Red Hot Chili Peppers’ bassist Flea, and Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder, the album is exactly what one would expect from Ron Wood.
Why did you now decide to come out with another solo album?
(Record producer) Steve Bing actually started the project. I happened to be in L.A., and he said, “Hey, Ronnie. I would love to hear you play. I’ve booked The House Of Blues, and I’ve got (drummer Jim) Keltner, and Ivan Neville.” I said, “Okay… cool.” I hadn’t thought about making any new tracks. So I got hold of Flea and brought in (longtime Rolling Stones backup vocalist) Bernard Fowler. We cut “Spoonful,” and it all just snowballed from there.
Did you have a stockpile of tunes ready for the album?
I had some phrases that had been knockin’ around my head, for awhile, like “Why’d you wanna go and do a thing like that for,” and (sings) “Well, I don’t think so.” So, there were songs waiting to come out from phases. One day, I heard Bernard say, “Sweetness, my weakness.” I said, “That’s not a greetin.’ That’s a song.” So he said, “You write it,” and I did. We’d write songs in the morning, and cut them in the afternoon. Everything on the album came together very easily.
Some time ago, you said, “You don’t make solo albums to have hits.” Do you still feel that way?
Well, I’ve changed my way of thinking, because I hope to have one or two hits of this album. When the record company told me “Lucky Man” became the most requested song on Amazon, I went, “Wow! Fantastic! I’ve had a little flash of fame of my own.”
How did Slash come to play on the album?
He was working in the next studio, and I’d bring him over, and say, “Come on, Slash. You know exactly what I want. Go ahead and play.” Then Billy Gibbons would walk in saying, “Hey, man. I’ve got a great song for you called ‘Thing About You,’ and I’d say, “Come on then. Let’s play it.” We’d work a little on the arrangements, then just do it. I love that spontaneity.
People buying the album might expect to hear you doing all of the solo work. But you recruited other guitarists, like Slash and Gibbons…
Well, I’m doing solos, but sometimes I’d let Slash take half, then I’d do half, and then we’d both perform the last part together. I did that with Billy, too. But for most of the songs, I left room for me to solo.
It’s nice to have a rapport with those kinds of guitar players, because they don’t mind playing a rhythm or just a simple thing in the background. However, if I’d also tell them, “Let loose,” they’d go, “It’s your album. You do the flashy stuff.” So, it’s not like they were trying to steal the limelight, or that I’d be giving up my rightful place.
It’s hard to explain; it’s a give-and-take thing going on among musicians. For instance, I might like a little phrase Slash did, and later decide to keep it on the track.
You can tell where Gibbons comes in with his trademark crunchy guitar on “Thing About You.”
That’s really me being a Gemini (laughs)! You see, I’m very chameleon-like. It’s me sounding like Billy Gibbons, and him sounding like me. We’re weaving together in the solos, so that quite honestly I don’t know where I start and leave off, where Billy takes over, and visa versa. It’s nice to know it’s not cut-and-dried, like he’s doing this bit and I’m doing that bit. Weaving is something I’ve been doing with Keith Richards since we started playing together. It’s an ancient musical form where we just “talk” to each other through our guitars.
The Stones have incorporated reggae for years, especially on some of your songs with them. “Sweetness My Weakness” is almost a tribute to Bob Marley.
It’s actually an homage to Gregory Isaacs, and I’m really pleased with the way it came out. I didn’t want to over-sing it. When you analyze that track, none of us is really playing a reggae beat. It just came out sounding like a reggae song.
When you were growing up in England, who were the first performers who inspired you, musically or visually, to think, “Hey, I’d like to do something like that with my life…”?
Oh, definitely the first was Fats Domino, with his record, “I’m Walkin’,” and alongside him, Jerry Lee Lewis (W oods performs on Lewis’ new album, Mean Old Man). The early Jerry Lee stuff was very important to the changeover in British musical tastes, blended with the influence of Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, and Chuck Berry, and even earlier, Big Bill Broonzy and Leadbelly. It all crossed over from the music of Louie Armstrong and Bix Beiderbecke. I got all of the traditional jazz influences from (brothers) Ted and Art, who were eight and 10 years older than me, and turned me on to R&B. They had bands who backed up some of these blues guys when they came to England.
And you actually backed Memphis Slim when you were very young…
Yeah, that was my first gig away from my group, The Thunderbirds. We later found out that (singer) Chris Farlowe had a group with the same name, so we had to knock off the “Thunder” part and became The Birds. This old, black crooner came up and asked (whispers) “Hey, boys. Would you back me up?” We were teenagers who didn’t know him from Adam. But he seemed like a gentleman, so we backed him for a bottle of whiskey. It was a real turn-on for me, though. Shortly after that, I got friendly with Bo Diddley at The 100 club.
I also used to go see Muddy Waters when he came to town. He always thought I was in the Stones. It was really funny when I saw him years later. I said, “Muddy, I’m finally in the band you always thought I was in.” He said, “I knew you’d do it.” (laughs)!
When you first saw The Stones perform at The Richmond Jazz and Blues Festival in ’64, did you seriously think that one day, someone in the group would drop out, and you would be asked to join as a full-time member?
Ron Wood
You know, I was just so captured by their performance, I thought, “Someday, I’m gonna be in that band.” I was the last one out of this tent, and I banged my leg really hard on this huge tent peg. It really hurt, but I didn’t think about the pain. I was just thinking, “Yeah, that’s my band.” I got to meet them, and funny enough, after Brian Jones died, when they were initiating Mick Taylor, I was going around the outskirts of (London’s) Hyde Park, and right in front of me, Mick (Jagger) and Charlie got out of this car and called out, “How are you doing?” I said, “I’m fine,” and they shouted back, “Well, we’ll see you.”And I said, “Yeah, sooner than you think.” I was just in the right place at the right time when (five years later) Mick Taylor told Jagger he was leaving the band. Mick looked at me, and said, “What am I gonna do? Will you join?” It was so funny. It was like fate was playing the cards.
Of course, that must take you all of one second to consider…
Yeah, but Mick also said, “To be fair to The Faces, I don’t want to split them up.” I said, “Nor, do I.” So Mick said, “Well, if I get really desperate, could I ring you up?” I said, “Of course.” So about a year later, when I was in L.A., Mick rang me up.
This must have been in ’75, but didn’t Mick actually call you right after Brian left, and you didn’t learn about the call until around five years later?
Yeah, that’s right. He rang me up through Ian Stewart, the piano player/roadie we sadly lost around 20 years ago. Ronnie Lane told him, “No, Ronnie’s quite happy here.” When I found out, later, I said to him, “Why didn’t you tell me about the call?” He said, “Because you’re happier here, my boy!”
What do you remember about the first session you played with Keith Richards… as a bassist… on P.P. Arnold’s 1966 recording, “Come Home, Baby?”
We were doing the session for Andrew (Loog) Oldham. I remember people like Keith Emerson on the organ, Nicky Hopkins on piano, and Keith on guitar. We also did some other things with Rod, like “Little Miss Understood,” and P.P. Arnold’s cover of Cat Stevens’ “The First Cut Is The Deepest.” (Ed. note: Stewart’s version of “Cut” came many years later.)
It was really a great way of mixing and matching different genres of music together. Different bandmates from far afield all coming together. You’d get these random phone calls, “Can you be there at this studio?” You never knew who was gonna be there, or who’d walk in.” It was like, “Wow, there’s John Lennon over there,” or someone like him. Those were really fantastic days.
So you were all close in those days.
Yeah, it was a great, thriving time. Everything would come to a head at the record company Christmas parties. You’d jump from one company to another, and party with people like Viv Prince and The Pretty Things, then go to The Who’s office and party with Townshend and Keith Moon. All the members of The Small Faces would be up at Immediate Records. The Stones and Beatles would all be down the road. It was all mad. All everyone was thinking about was, “Wow, let’s party!”
What do you think has made that generation of British musicians endure, still active and creative more than 45 years after hitting the scene? Certainly, none of them could have foreseen being this popular in 2010.
Well, we were all born with that imbedded thing, almost like being born with a guitar in your hands (laughs)! I was like that. That’s what we all did. You wouldn’t give up, even if in the back of your mind you thought you really couldn’t play. You would just get up there and front it out, which is something I still do to this day. I’ve got a lot of front in me. I just jump in the deep end and play.
Your formative years in England must have been very exciting.
Back then, you’d bump into Jimmy Page, who was a top session guy at the time. Jeff Beck was a schoolmate of his, and he told me that Jimmy was the one who was playing the solos on all those hit records. Me and Jeff would be on a train, and we’d see Jimmy on the platform. It really was a small world. We’d go past Ealing Station coming home from school, and I’d see Keith Moon playing football. We were all just knocking around. But deep down, we had a dedication to playing music and sticking in there, never giving up.
If in 1964 some caricaturist had drawn a picture of what he imagined Mick Jagger would look like at 67, it would probably be of an old man with a cane. But of course, that’s not the case.
It’s like 65 has become the new 40. It’s all truly amazing, the music and continual creativity, the ambition, always wanting to get better and taking on new things.
It’s always that way for me in the art world with my paintings, going through phases. I’m always learning. It’s the same with music; always striving to find new ideas.
How did you feel about the recent Faces’ reunion shows?
They were both really good, actually. We did the O2 Festival in Goodwood, and another gig in Denmark with Mick Hucknall singing just like Rod did in the ’70s. Mick sang well, and shut up a lot of people who said, “What? He’ll never sound like Rod.” Well, he did!
Is there any chance Rod will be involved in future Faces’ reunions?
I just got an e-mail from Rod, and he’s open to ideas. He said, “Hey, let’s see about going out and playing again.” So we’ll see. We’re planning shows in January with Mick.
The Stones are rumored to have a new album and tour planned for 2011. What’s the latest on that?
We won’t know until we’ve had our winter meetings, but we’re all looking forward to them with itchy feet.
You’ve had an incredible 35-year run with The Stones so far. Can we assume you’ve forgiven Ronnie Lane for possibly preventing you from joining six years earlier?
To be truthful, if I had, I’d probably have become a junkie straight away, and would probably have OD’d… or I’d be dead now.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The Providence Velvet Comp, Red Rock OD, and Phase Force
Price: $199 (per piece, list)
Contact: www.providence.jp
Providence is a Japan-based manufacturer of effects, cables, guitars, pickups, and audio-switching devices. Though an established brand in its home country for almost two decades, its products only recently found their way to the United States, including a line of effects pedals.
Providence pedals are housed in industry-standard Hammond/MXR-sized enclosures, and use a unique metal harness around the footswitch that both protects it and gives the pedal a signature look. All units feature 1/4″ in and out jacks, along with a standard barrel DC receptacle. All three reviewed here – the Velvet Comp, Red Rock OF, and Phase Force – can be powered with either a 9-volt battery or a 9-volt DC center-pin negative power supply.
The effects were tested with a ’67 Telecaster and an ES-335, along with a reissue ’65 Deluxe Reverb. The Velvet Comp is in the Dyna/Ross family but has a very pleasant addition in the Attack knob. While it’s true other compressors have attack knobs, frankly, many do next to nothing or are very subtle at best. Here, the Attack knob allows standard smoothing. There’s an outright loss of initial attack at the fully counterclockwise setting. As it’s turned clockwise, pick attack actually returns. The compression/limiting is smooth and classic, and certainly a joy with the Telecaster/Deluxe combo.
With the Red Rock OD unit, the mini pot labeled “Volume” is a post-input buffer and a pre-gain knob that controls the amount of signal that hits the gain stage. With most guitars, a lower setting is more desirable, unless one wants to dial in a fizzier overdrive. The real strength of the feature is the ability to boost a weak signal so that the overdrive section can be used to its full extent. For Dano lipstick users or fans of low-output Guyatone pickups, the Volume mini pot can boost their weak output to be useable by the dirt stage. The Gain pot functions as a standard drive level, and the Master control is an output that is post-gain and tone stages, yet pre-output buffer, making it a true master volume control for the pedal. The Volume, Gain, and Master controls allow a wide variety of drive textures, with the Tone control and Fat boost aiding in smoothing things out. Twisting the Tone control adds both dirt and volume, along with treble as it is cranked up. Although the pedal has a certain midrange emphasis, one would never confuse it with a Tube Screamer circuit – this is much clearer sounding, and much more controllable due to the pre-gain Volume control, interactive Gain and Tone knobs, and the ability to gain back, via the Fat boost, the low end that is usually lost in Tube Screamer circuits.
The Phase Force is a classically styled phaser with some pleasant twists. The first is its Level control, which allows the user to match, boost, or cut the effected versus the dry signal level. The second is its Speed control that has a much wider variance of slow to insanely fast settings than run-of-the-mill phasers. Finally, the Mid Shift switch provides an enhanced midrange boost to help the guitar cut through.
The Providence Velvet Comp, Red Rock OD, and Phase Force are vintage-inspired effects with helpful tweaks that make them more controllable and stage- and studio-friendly. The Velvet Comp’s smooth compression and actually functional Attack knob make it a standout. The Red Rock’s input gain and Fat switch make it both versatile and complementary to just about any instrument. And the classic tone of the Phase Force cuts through better than the rest with its mid-boosting Mid Shift switch.
This article originally appeared in VG November 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Anyone who has ever plugged an acoustic guitar into an amp or PA is well-acquainted with the bone-crushing howl of hollowbody feedback. It’s not a happy sound. And in a live setting, it can be almost impossible to dial in enough volume to sit in the mix without inducing that telltale low-frequency wail that precedes the inevitable chorus of “Turn that thing down!” Unfortunately, many acoustic players resort to electrics live, even if the resulting tone doesn’t suit the song.
Methods used to combat hollowbody feedback are legendary: tape over sound holes, posts between top and back plates, all sorts of things stuffed into bodies. Inevitably, the resulting sound has little resemblance to the rich acoustic overtones the player was trying to preserve in the first place. Now, luthier Jon Kammerer has what may very well be the answer to acoustic guitar players’ prayers: a guitar that looks, plays, and sounds like an acoustic but does not feedback, even under the most unforgiving of circumstances.
Kammerer took a scientific approach to the problem by first identifying the frequencies most responsible for feedback and then devising a revolutionary design to keep them at bay. The result is the Pegasus, a hybrid acoustic guitar with a top plate that nearly “floats” above the body. Kammerer recognized that an acoustic guitar projects sounds because it acts like a blacksmith’s bellows, pumping air through the sound holes. The unplugged answer to more volume has always been to make a bigger bellows by building larger bodies – precisely the prescription for low-frequency feedback loops when the guitar’s sound is amplified back at it through a speaker. So, Kammerer extended the length of the sound holes as far as possible to limit the vibrating top plate from transferring energy to the sides and back, thereby preserving the mid- and high-frequency overtones but stopping the feedback-causing low frequencies from being acoustically amplified. The result is an identifiably acoustic-looking and -sounding guitar with very little tendency to feedback when amplified.
The Pegasus body is made from two pieces of solid maple, shaped to pleasing contours, hollowed out with CNC machinery, internally braced, and glued together as top and bottom to form a shell. The top is only about 0.125″ thick (it’s an incredibly light guitar), and the neck is made of figured maple with an inlaid ebony fretboard (rosewood, maple, and Pao Ferro are also options). Kammerer uses a 25″ scale with either a conventional or compound radius as options. The 24-fret neck is bolted on, but the plate and screws are hidden behind a walnut plate, and all frets are reachable and playable. The fretwork is impeccable, as you would expect from a maker who has taken such care in design and material selection.
The guitar sits in the lap like a well-balanced dreadnaught but is thinner and more comfortable to play than most acoustic guitars when standing up with a strap. And that is precisely the point – this guitar is made to be plugged in and played through the L. R. Baggs active-element pickup system beneath its saddle. Unamplified, it isn’t much louder than an unplugged Epiphone Casino, so if you’re looking for a guitar to do double-duty, the Pegasus probably isn’t the answer. Plugged into an amp or PA, however, it sounds more “acoustic” than any other acoustic/electric it was compared to, albeit a bit brighter due to the maple body (the Pegasus can also be ordered with a warmer-sounding walnut body). That brightness did translate into more fingers-on-the-strings sound than we normally would expect, but try as we might, we couldn’t get the Pegasus to feed back any more than a solidbody guitar, and certainly less than the Casino and a White Falcon we paired with it.
What a luxury to finally fingerpick and strum at performance-level volumes without fear of suddenly delivering a “howler.”
This article originally appeared in VG November 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
St. Blues Scoundrel
A gold-plated Gypsy-approved tailpiece will accommodate both loop- and ball-end strings. Only the shiny plastic insert (Selmer used plastic, ebonite and rosewood) on the tailpiece detracts from the visual appeal of the guitar body from the front. If this guitar were mine to keep, I’d use a piece of 0000 steel wool to dull the gloss of the insert. This little effort makes it look like ebony from a few feet away.
