Gibson Style J mando-bass. Photos: William Ritter.
Decades before Audiovox or Leo Fender dreamed of making a fretted electric bass, Gibson started manufacturing fretted acoustic mando-basses that were tuned the same as an upright bass.
Joe Spann, author of Spann’s Guide to Gibson 1902-1941 has assembled serial and work-order number information documenting Gibson’s production prior to World War II, which indicates mando-bass production started as early as 1906 and that none were shipped after 1931. The style J mando-bass was offered as late as ’37, but since none have been documented as being shipped after ’31, it’s safe to assume demand must have been very low after the mandolin-orchestra boom subsided. Similarly, the Gibson style U harp guitar was offered in Gibson catalogs as late as ’39, long after production ceased, so it’s not safe to assume that listing in a catalog indicates Gibson was still building it – sometimes, it was merely clearing old inventory. Remaining Gibson ledgers document eight batches of Kalamazoo-branded mando-bass style KJ produced by Gibson between 1935 and ’37, but Spann has examined two Kalamazoo mando-basses with batch numbers from 1933 indicating that they were produced at least that early, but none of the Kalamazoo models appear to have been produced or shipped after ’37.
Style J and a Gibson flat-top.
The Gibson mando-bass resembles a gigantic style A Gibson mandolin with four strings. The instrument is 62″ in total length, has a scale of 423/8″, a body width of 24″ and a body length of 331/2″ making it one of the largest fretted instruments ever offered in the Gibson catalog. The mando-bass was designed for use in mandolin orchestras. Its appearance complements the Gibson mandolin family, with the mandolin tuned the same as a violin, mandola tuned the same as a viola, mandocello tuned the same as a cello, and the mando-bass tuned the same as an upright bass. While the first three have four pairs of strings, the mando-bass has four strings. Its top is carved spruce with an oval soundhole, while the back and sides are birch. The neck is mahogany with an ebony fingerboard. The peghead has “The Gibson” pearl script inlay, and the crossbar is a factory installed armrest. The Kalamazoo mando-bass had f-shaped sound holes rather than an oval soundhole, but was otherwise very similar. Mando-basses have an extension end pin much like an upright bass. They could be played upright with the player standing or with the player seated and instrument in a diagonal position much like a gigantic mandolin.
Spann has located production records that list 39 units, but there were very likely more, since his reconstructed serial number list contains only approximately nine percent of serial number units produced by Gibson prior to 1935. Spann has 100 percent of the serial numbers after 1935, having extracted them from shipping ledgers. While he speculates that as many as 400 mando-basses were produced, so few have emerged compared to other models produced in quantities of a few hundred, that the number was probably not more than 200 and may have been less. We simply do not have truly accurate records for total production. Spann has documented 21 Kalamazoo mando-basses (style KJ) and speculates as many as 40 could have been produced sporadically between 1933 and ’37.
One possible explanation for today’s relative rarity of mando-basses is that they were not offered with hard shell cases, as were the other instruments in the family; Gibson mandolins, mandolas, mandocellos, and guitars with carved tops and backs were relatively expensive instruments in their day, so most buyers opted to get a hardshell case such that we encounter very few of these instruments without a good case, which played a great role in their preservation. A large instrument without a good case is prone to damage. Another factor is that a large, somewhat unwieldy instrument that had gone out of style would take up enough room that people would be more likely to throw it away.
The Gibson mandolin orchestra boom lasted from the very early 1900s through the early ’20s, after which the mandolin orchestra craze died abruptly and Dixieland music took over, resulting in strong sales of tenor and plectrum banjos. Mandolin-family instrument sales plunged and thousands of instruments were retired from service. Many later re-entered the market in old-timey country music and bluegrass, but country musicians (and most pop-music players) who took up the mandolin neglected mandolas and mandocellos. It’s conceivable that some of these musicians would have been interested in mando-basses had they encountered any, but they’re so scarce – especially in playable condition – that one would be hard-pressed to recall a musical group that utilized one after the mandolin-orchestra era.
The Gibson style J mando-bass is a well-crafted, historically significant instrument, worthy of attention from sophisticated collectors and musicians.
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.
Cynics inclined to dismiss Gretsch’s Roots Collection as a crass ploy to hop aboard the current washboard-rock chuckwagon popularized by the likes of Mumford & Sons and the Avett Brothers will do well to recall that the company’s, well… roots. Gretsch history, after all, extends to late-19th-century Brooklyn, where the company built a reputation producing percussion and acoustic stringed instruments. Considered in this context, it’s no stretch that Gretsch should revisit their own history with a 22-instrument collection evoking that period which predates the Fabs and rockabilly hep cats with whom the marque has been most associated lo these many years.
The Jim Dandy Flat Top is the only guitar entry in the Roots Collection, but Gretsch seized the opportunity create a functional instrument that works hard to resemble what many a player’s first guitar must have looked like 60 years ago. The Dandy’s body is all agathis with a satin-like finish over black back and sides and a Vintage Sunburst top (Gretsch also offers it in Blue Sunburst) with a white pickguard and screened rosette and “binding.” The 24″-scale-length nato neck is capped with an 18-fret rosewood fingerboard and sports a three-by-three headstock with open-geared nickel-plated tuners and a ’50s Gretsch logo (also screened).
Lest all this talk of painted appointments and what many consider econo tonewoods cause more gentle readers to look askance, rest assured these era-specific cosmetics are where the Jim Dandy’s nods to “catalog guitars” of bygone years end. With its X-braced top and compensated saddle, the Dandy puts forth a much warmer and less punchy tone than what one might expect from a parlor-size instrument offered at this price. And needless to say, the guitar’s 13″ lower bout, 12″ fingerboard radius, and short scale length make it super-comfy and a gas to knock around on – the perfect distraction to have lying on the sofa (it is a parlor guitar, after all).
Another six-string entry in the Roots Collection is the Dixie 6, a thoroughly enjoyable “banjar” (or is it “gitjo”?). The Dixie 6 is a great-looking instrument right out of the box, its pearloid-faced headstock with black-button Grover Sta-Tite tuners being the first rubberneckin’ delight. Other guitar-like accoutrements – a maple neck and fingerboard, 25″ scale length, jumbo frets, and a six-strings-wide neck – in concert with a mottled Remo Fiberskyn head, suggest a quaint 19th-century pre-resonator banjo befitting the “1883” legend (year of Gretsch’s founding, natch) that’s applied to the headstock facing. The Dixie 6’s rim and rear resonator, like the neck and fingerboard, are antique-stained maple, and the body has 24 shiny brackets and an armrest.
One caveat: front-porch-swingin’ folk who are lightning-fingered on the six-string and hope the Dixie 6 will have them astounding their slack-jawed pickin’ partners with Scruggs-like three-finger rolls will likely be sorely disappointed. However, the Dixie 6 will allow players to add unmistakably banjo-like textures to informal jam sessions, whether using a drop-thumb or frailing technique, or even attacking the Dixie 6 with a plectrum. The latter results in more robust volume, which is perhaps a bit lacking from the Dixie 6. Regardless, for players hoping to quickly add a little banjo twang to their repertoire on a very shallow learning curve, this instrument is a great option.
The Roots Collection also includes five-string resonator banjos, resonator guitars, A-style mandolins, and even ukuleles. With the Jim Dandy and Dixie 6, Gretsch has done a nice job producing affordable instruments that are functional for after-work and weekend pickers, not to mention aesthetically evocative of bygone eras.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Greg Howe continues to evolve, pushing his artistry into fresh territory. One of the most successful artists on Shrapnel Records, Howe is following his unique vision and has created a catalog built on his unique style and diverse musical interests. With a stack of killer solo records and collaborations with Richie Kotzen, Victor Wooten, Dennis Chambers, and Jason Becker, Howe recently returned to rock with a fiery four-piece band called Maragold.
How did you find Meghan Krauss, the singer in the new band?
She was discovered by my bass player, Kevin Vecchione, in a cover band. He sent me a picture and I thought, “Wow, she looks great!” At the time, I hadn’t considered a female singer – we had a guy in mind, but he ended up getting a gig with Chris Daughtry.
When I got that picture of her, I was thinking, “Hopefully she can sing.” Then they sent some tracks and I was like, “Wow!” She looks great, sounds great, and has a great live presence. She pretty much has everything I look for – the rasp, soul, and nuance. She’s really incredible.
How did you decide on what the band would sound like?
My initial vision was more sophisticated in terms of chord changes and maybe a little bit more Sting-esque, more singer/songwriter. When I got together with Kevin and we started writing, things just started to happen in more of a rock way. I just went with it because it felt like that’s where this was supposed to be going.
There wasn’t really any plan about what musical direction we were going to take. I knew that whatever we were going to create together was going to be something cool – I just didn’t know exactly what it was going to be. Kevin is very similar to me in the sense that he likes everything. We listen to everything from hip-hop to country to classical to metal to jazz. It doesn’t matter, we like all of it.
Were the songs written with Meghan’s voice in mind?
She did help inspire the direction, but a lot of the songs had already been developed before she came on board. When I heard her voice, it inspired me to write music that would lend itself to maximize her thing. Half the album was written after she came on board.
Did you record together as a band?
In some cases we did basic tracks together, and in some cases I would go back and re-do the guitars. Sometimes, the basic tracks were done for the purpose of getting the rhythm section together. In some instances, some things came out perfect with me, the bass player, and the drummer. A lot of what was originally intended to be reference guitar tracks ended up being real tracks. When I would go back to track the “real” guitar, sometimes it wouldn’t have the vibe that went down as a reference track.
This album is a departure for you in terms of guitar tone.
I broke out a lot of single-coil stuff. I used a couple of my standard Strats, and I’ve been working with Laguna on an all-single-coil version of the LE924 I play. I ended up using the DiMarzio Area series pickups, which are genuine-sounding and noiseless. They were phenomenal. The LE924 has a Super Switch that gets a lot of spanky Tele tones, particularly in the 2nd and 4th positions even though there are only two pickups. As many albums as I have done, I haven’t done a lot of that, and I love that stuff. It was a fun opportunity to reveal a different side of my playing.
When you tour, what’s going to be your amp of choice?
I’m developing a signature amp with DV Mark, which is based in Italy. It’s a very organic, natural, straightforward amp – not a lot of bell and whistles. Essentially, it’s 40 watts, and I wanted the output tubes to play a big role. We decreased gain in the front end and quickened the response time of the signal to the preamp tube. It sends a clearer, louder signal to the output stage driving the tubes. In the end, 6L6s worked best because they had a nice balance of compression and clarity. In a perfect world I’ll have a combination of my signature amp and a power amp handling the Axe-Fx, to let me access all the tones quickly.
What’s next for Maragold?
We’re planning a tour and talking with management companies to see if we should end up on a label. Luckily, with my fan base we can go out and do a successful tour.
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.
In the early ’70s, women didn’t play rock guitar. Nor did they front bands. Nancy Wilson was an exception. Few guitarists present as memorable an onstage image as does Wilson brandishing her famous custom-color Fender Telecaster onstage with Heart, the band she co-founded with her sister, Ann, in 1974. One of the biggest bands of the ’70s and ’80s, Heart has sold more than 30 million records, scored 22 Top 40 hits, and sold out arenas worldwide.
The Wilson sisters’ influence has kept them relevant. They appeared on last winter’s “VH1 Divas Salute The Troops,” their work can be heard on several commercial soundtracks, and of course, they are ever-present on classic-rock radio. Further evidence of their impact lies in the fact the sisters were recently recognized for their songwriting by the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers (A.S.C.A.P.), which honored them with its Founders Award. In 2010, Heart released its 13th studio album, Red Velvet Car, which debuted at #10 on the Billboard Top 200 and #3 on the Rock Albums chart. It became the band’s first top 10 album since Brigade, which was released two full decades before, and scored Adult Contemporary hit singles with “WTF” and “Hey You” despite an approach lauded by critics as having no blatant commercial aspiration, instead harkening to the band’s ’70s sound and groove.Despite monumental success and such accolades, Wilson remains driven by a burning passion for rock-and-roll guitar.
Wilson had her ’68 Gibson SG Junior modified with an older Bigsby, graphite saddles, and a Kent Armstrong pickup.
Do you come from a musical family?
Ann and I started singing way before we were ever in a band. My family is very musical, our aunts and uncles, mom and dad, and grandparents had ukuleles and would sing old Irish pub songs, silly little tunes, even vaudeville stuff from the ’20s. So we just grew up with a lot of musical hams in our family! As kid, we’d put on little shows and productions – we’d lip-sync to our favorite records or play the piano or ukulele. When the family would drive across the country to visit grandma or whatever, we’d sing in the car.
After we saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan – which dates us just a little bit – it really made a spark. We had to learn to play guitars from that moment forward, and start making bands and playing outside of the living room and the church and the school. We started playing for money and trying to write songs. From that point forward, we were just driven to be as much like the Beatles as we could be. We were too young to think, “We should be the girlfriends of the Beatles. We just wanted to be the Beatles, you know? It was kind of before puberty, and Mom and Dad really encouraged us. I took to the guitar like a duck to water. The light bulb went on, lightning struck, and I got good really fast!
Do you remember your first guitar?
My grandmother gave Ann a nice guitar, and I was like, “Please, I gotta have a good guitar, too!” So they bought me a cheapie 3/4-size Lyle made of plywood with a sunburst finish. Somebody forgot to glue down the bridge, so it was impossible to play. And it had a pipe for a neck, so you couldn’t barre an F chord – but, in trying, my hands got very, very strong. Thankfully, I knew the difference between my bad guitar and Ann’s nylon-string better guitar, because I would have given up! But, it was 30 bucks, and my parents wanted to see if I was serious, which obviously, I was…
Who was your first “Guitar Hero”?
Well, there was the Beatles, obviously. Ann sort of had Paul taken, because, you know, girls had to have their favorite Beatle! So I had gravitated between John and George and learned all their guitar parts. Ann picked up a bass, got an imitation Höfner and a little tiny student amp, and we’d rock out and pretend we were the Beatles, all the way up to the English accents! We really wanted it bad… We learned every Beatles song!
A prototype for the Martin HD-35 Nancy Wilson model.
What was the first concert you ever went to?
In 1966, we had a group of four girls called The Viewpoints. We learned a bunch of Beatles songs and a lot of harmony-driven songs from the radio. We went to see the Beatles wearing uniforms our Mom made that matched the Beatles’. We were definitely serious about the Beatles, and still are! So in 1966, we saw the Beatles at the Seattle Coliseum. The screams were deafening! We were there with our opera glasses, and we were the only girls in the place who weren’t screaming. It was very exciting, it was one of the last shows they played, it was really cool!
After that, we started going to more rock shows; I saw Zeppelin open for Sonny and Cher. We were just kids and we were so shocked, because it was so suggestive!
How and when did you begin performing?
Well, we played a bunch of little places as The Viewpoints, including a drive-in theatre. We got guys who had equipment – drums and a bass – but it was really difficult to get gigs. We played a couple of high-school dances and church youth-group things, but there was no “real” band until Ann joined one. I couldn’t play clubs at the time because I was underage, so she went off in to a real rock outfit, and I played acoustic for awhile. Later, I joined her band in Vancouver, which was doing really well in the cabarets there. I went to college for a bit, but knew I was going to eventually join Ann’s band. When we got together, it was writing songs, going in the studio, playing clubs, and traveling across Canada.
Nancy uses this Martin DC-PA1 with an Aura pickup to play the megahit “Alone” in the live set.
What led you to quit college and join Ann’s band?
Well, I wanted to experience the university because I wanted to learn stuff. I knew I’d never graduate because I just wanted to take cool classes and get the experiences, away from Ann for a while, before I joined them and saw the world. I sensed we would never really look back and I’d never have another opportunity to experience such things. That’s how it felt to me, and it was kind of true… We were not afraid to think big – we were young, optimistic, and very hard-working.
What was the Vancouver music scene like in the early ’70s?
There was a lot of different music, a lot of clubs, which they call “cabarets.” The drinking age was lower, so our friends would come up from Seattle to see us. Ann’s band was the #1 cabaret act in Vancouver when I joined. A lot of dues were being paid, and I joined right in with the dues paying, right off the bat! Within a year and a half after I joined the band, the first album, Dreamboat Annie, came out.
Did you have any idea what was about to happen with Dreamboat Annie?
We knew it was good; we’d made ourselves happy with the way it sounded. The original mixing desk at the Mushroom Records studio had come from a famous Muscle Shoals studio – all that great Booker T. stuff was recorded on it – and it really sounded amazing! That record became an audiophile’s favorite, all the frequencies were there, it was very rich and full-sounding. A lot of digital recordings today are too top heavy, and there’s so much missing that we don’t even realize it anymore.
Prior to working with Martin on her signature model, Wilson made heavy use of this Takamine NP-16A.
Any special memories from making that first album?
I remember it taking off as soon as it was released. We made it with an independent Canadian label, Mushroom Records, because major labels turned us down – twice. So we were very much like Loretta Lynn in Coal Miner’s Daughter, where they just went in the car to every single radio station. Those early albums were exciting to make, because it was a real studio and we were allowed to make a real album. Ann and I used to play around recording on our daddy’s Sony reel-to-reel, but this was a real control room with an isolation booth and double-glass windows, and it just felt like the coolest thing on earth. There was no cutting and pasting, unless it was done with a razor blade and tape, so you had to really commit to a take – there was no fixing it later, you had to get it right, on the spot. If you had to splice anything in, you were sweating bullets! Sometimes, you’d play the same song 10 or 15 times, and not feel the magic. So you’d go have lunch or go outside and play basketball. Then you’d come back and get it. Because all this ephemeral, ethereal magic you’re chasing doesn’t just happen unless everyone is in the same spot at the same time. Today, you can construct things and layer things, but you can tell the difference when there’s a band playing real music live in the studio. There’s energy. We used to take amps, guitars, mixers, and go to the beach. We’d set it up in houses where we’d write and record songs to tape. I was the engineer and roadie for all those songwriting sessions, hauling stuff around.
Once you’ve done that, it’s like, “Okay, you’ll earn it now.” You really care about getting it done, instead of “Oh, I can decide later what to cut and paste.”
This Zemaitis acoustic is sister Ann Wilson’s primary stage guitar, which she uses on “These Dreams,” “Dog and Butterfly,” and” “Sand.”
In the mid ’90s, you took five years to concentrate on raising your family. During this time, you were able to compose the musical scores for several well-known films. How did that experience broaden your musical perspective and songwriting?
I actually learned a lot about music by scoring movie scenes where there’s dialogue and things are happening on the screen, and the music basically needs to support what’s happening onscreen. It’s an exercise in less is more; simplifying and spreading it out, slowing it down and playing fewer notes, having more space in the music. In a way, if you disappear but you’re still there – you’re almost not there – then you’ve done your job. If you’re feeling it but not hearing it, then you’ve done your job well.
I took a lot of that with me into my songs. Instead of playing muscular, proving-it-all-the-time things where you cram in notes, it’s what you leave out that can be just as – if not more – meaningful. It’s about the spaces between the notes.
What’s it like to work with your big sister all these years?
Ann’s voice… it’s just a freak of nature! There’s something undeniable about a voice like that, and it doesn’t come along very often. We come from a military family, and we’ve always had that ethic; we pull up our socks and we troop onward! Along with our sister, Lynn, the three of us lead our family now, our parents are gone and we’re still trooping. We’ve never stopped to consider excess drama as an option. If anyone’s having feelings or opinions, we put it out there and work it out, get past it and do our jobs. I think we really lucked out with our whole family support system; we just don’t have all that extra drama to slow us down.
Wilson has used this Japanese-copy mandolin since 1974.
What do you still love about the guitar?
I’ve just always loved the guitar. The guitar has always been my significant other, my husband… I’m married to my guitar. And I was from the minute I started to play. When I was a kid, I actually took the first good guitar I had to bed with me. I remember thinking, “Darn, this isn’t very comfortable.” But I was so committed!
I think the guitar is one of the best friends you’ll ever have. It’s your confidant, and it’ll tell you what you want to hear. But it’s not a “yes” man! It won’t tell you things that aren’t real. You can’t fake it with a guitar…. Well, I guess there is a lot of guys who do, but I’ve never been one of those fakers! I could play a barrage of notes, but I can’t impress myself that way. The guitar is a reflection of what you put in to it, giving back what you give it, just like life. Put the love in, get the love out!
Given your profession, do you grab a guitar for relaxation?
I play a bit, yeah. When I do sit down and play the piano or guitar at home, it’s a healing grace – a place to exhale and regroup.
How have your instrument preferences changed, over the course of your career?
I’ve always been a fan of vintage because I’m an analog girl – a vintage kind of girl! Those have always been the better sounds. You can hear the dirt and the time and experience in the wood. The wood itself has molecularly aligned itself musically, so there’s a magic that happens with vintage, experienced instruments. Guitars are eternal, they’re my religion.
What do you find more difficult to create, lyrics or music?
Lyrics are more difficult to pull out of yourself, especially good ones that are not too personal or too corny. It’s a tough line to walk.
Wilsons’s ’63 Fender Telecaster has a PAF humbucker in the neck, a single-coil in the bridge, and Bourns pots.
Do you have a favorite guitar?
I don’t. I go through “favorite” guitars all the time. I have a few at home that I cherish – my old Sunrise acoustic that was custom built for me in ’76 by Ed Myronic in Vancouver. That’s one of my all-time favorites. It was there with me at the beginning, it sounds great, and it’s done a lot of scoring with me. It’s a really good studio friend. I did most of my big film scores with that guitar.
And I have the new prototype Martin, which is really great; there’s a brand new “old soul” in my house!
What about your famous Lake Placid Blue Tele?
I’d always had that exact guitar in my head – that color on that guitar was an icon for me. It’s been the main electric in my life since the early ’80s – my all-around go-to guy! I love the Tele thing in general, more than the Strat thing. As a player, I come from an acoustic rock/rhythm place. I play acoustic in a much more aggressive rock style. For me, it’s almost a rhythm thing – part drum – and a Tele can handle that approach better than most guitars. It holds up to my overplaying, so it’s a good transitional electric for me.
Were you surprised at how well Red Velvet Car was received by fans and the press?
It came out higher on Billboard than any of our albums ever – at #10. We couldn’t have been happier about that, because we’d been working pretty hard on it for a long time (laughs)!
Wilson’s acoustic-amp rig uses two Orange 4120 cabinets with Celestion Vintage 30 speakers. They were painted black at Wilson’s request during the Night at Sky Church DVD shoot. The amps are Trace Elliot TA200 models with neodymium speakers.
What can you tell us about the new record you’re working on?
A really great producer can always make it feel like a first take. That’s what we love about Ben Mink, our producer for Red Velvet Car and the new record we’re working on with him. He has the same work ethic – we write stuff in the same room together, then when we push that red button to record, we’re just trying to find it on the spot and get that excitement of that feeling when we first did it. We’re going for a more rock-and-roll, harder-edged thing, so I’ll probably be playing more electric than acoustic. Red Velvet Car had a more-aggressive acoustic and rock sound, but I think we’re going for even more rock tones on this new one.
Wilson has used these Bruce-Zinky-designed Fender Tonemaster amps onstage since 2003.
What did it mean to you and Ann to be presented with the A.S.C.A.P. Founder’s Award?
We couldn’t have been more thrilled to be recognized for our songwriting, especially when we’re out there in the big world with people like Paul Simon and Joni Mitchell – incredible writers who came out of our generation and even before. It meant the world to us. It also renewed our inspiration to keep writing, because sometimes you tell yourself “Nobody listens, nobody cares.” Being acknowledged for something more than just hair or makeup or videos from the ’80s keeps us going.
In this business, the biggest challenges are personal. I’ve tried to balance all that out, as a woman and a mother, especially, and managed to be in a rock band all at the same time. There are not really a lot of bands like Heart, we don’t fit any mold, and never have. We’re a real rock band, a hard-working rock outfit. We blazed the trail, and I hope to see more girls in rock bands defy those odds and do it, too.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Ronnie Montrose (left) and Ricky Phillips onstage in the early 2000s. Montrose/Phillips: Bill Towner.
Ricky Phillips has many fond memories of his friendship and musical association with Ronnie Montrose (1947-2012). The bassist is finishing a recording project by the late guitarist on which he had participated prior to joining Styx.
Montrose and Phillips met in the early ’80s, but didn’t collaborate until 20 years later, when Montrose needed a bassist.
“Chuck Wright recommended me as his replacement after he went on the road with Alice Cooper,” Phillips said. “We dug into the Montrose material and played the hell out of it – got to the point where arrangements changed by a mere glance from Ronnie and we’d go face-to-face, trading riffs.
“New song ideas began to emerge from that interaction; it was like being back in the ’70s, with free-form jamming using Montrose material as the constant.”
Drummer Eric Singer settled into the percussion position between gigs with Kiss and Alice Cooper. In late 2003, Phillips got the call from Styx. By the time he departed, however, the three had recorded several tracks in a unique manner…
“We loaded in our gear with the premise to catch a vibe and keep everything analog, as pure as possible, with no click tracks and no overdubs,” he said. “In other words, if we liked the vibe of a take and there were subtle mistakes or imperfections, so be it. Some tracks were barely discussed before we laid them down, never rehearsed, and performed only that once, while they were being recorded.”
Phillips is now completing those tracks as a tribute to Montrose.
“Since taking over production, I’ve listened to the tracks many times. I thought they were good back then, but they sound better than I recalled. Ronnie’s approach was spot-on. He knew advances in technology were becoming a crutch, and didn’t want it to alter the work and dilute the brew.
“Now, my focus is to carry on with Ronnie’s wishes.”
The concept, as named by Montrose, was 10/10 – 10 songs with 10 singers. Some vocals were recorded more than a decade ago, while others were recent. “Ten years in the making,” Phillips reflected. “Maybe we should call it 10/10/10.”
Numerous guitarists are also contributing.
“Ronnie wasn’t able to get to all of his solos or do any incidental rhythm overdubs, so my job lately has been to find guitarists and singers Ronnie loved, to complete the project. So far, Joe Bonamassa, Marc Bonilla, Rick Derringer, Tommy Shaw, Brad Whitford, Mark Farner, Joe Elliot, Leslie West, and Dave Meniketti have helped. The one connection I’m being insistent on is that we use the guys Ronnie was into, and had talked about.
“He loved this project,” Phillips added. “When he was sick, he didn’t pick up his guitar for two years. But, before he died, he started talking about it again, and was excited about finishing, excited about the future.”
Two months after Montrose’s passing from cancer, Phillips participated in a memorial concert for him. He remembers getting the call from Montrose’s widow, Leighsa.
“I was definitely going to be there. Neal Schon and Steve Smith were in, and we decided to do something together. I think Steve suggested ‘Open Fire,’ which he recorded with Ronnie, and of course, Ronnie’s masterpiece arrangement of ‘Town Without Pity.’ Ed Roth played keys on it, and did a fantastic job; he and Ronnie were very close.
“I hadn’t worked with Neal since our Bad English days, and I hadn’t played with Steve since we used to jam when the Babys and Journey toured together.”
The event (a DVD of which was released in late 2013) included reunions of the mid-’70s Montrose band (with Sammy Hagar as lead vocalist) and his later band, Gamma.
“The Montrose set was very strong,” Phillips said. “Sammy never disappoints. And the Gamma set was great stuff; Marc Bonilla really captured the intensity of Ronnie at that time in his career.”
Other guitarists at the event included Joe Satriani, Jeff Watson, Tommy Thayer, and Frank Hannon.
“I thought Frank did a great job on ‘Frankenstein,’” Phillips noted. “Everybody was good, but Frank’s guitar work, mimicking the synthesizers, was pretty cool. No one was given any time to really fine-tune anything, and I commend everyone who showed up at this event and cared enough to devote their time to the memory of Ronnie Montrose. To get on that stage and perform in a kamikaze back-line format is tough to do. I think everybody did great, and I was proud of them all.”
Phillips is focused on completing the 10/10/10 project, and notes that he’s doing his best to do what Montrose would have done.
“I need to feel I have his blessing on each decision or that he would approve, and feel we’re still on track,” the bassist said.
This article originally appeared in VG August 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Jack Bruce: courtesy of Esoteric Recordings.Bassist/vocalist Jack Bruce, who turned 71 in May, recently released Silver Rails, his first solo album in a decade, with songwriting help from several longtime collaborators.
Bruce recruited numerous guitarists for the project, as well one of his offspring, and the results exemplify the styles of the participants.
“I was thrilled that all of the guitarists I wanted agreed to do it,” Bruce said. “From Phil Manzanera to Robin Trower to Uli Jon Roth and Bernie Marsden – all of them were unsurpassable for their individual tracks. I also love my son Malcolm’s beautiful solo on “Don’t Look Now.’”
Recorded at Abbey Road Studios, there was also a family connection in the location.
“My daughter, Kyla, who is a director, was having the premiere of a film, and there I met Rob Cass, Abbey Road’s in-house producer,” he enthused. “He suggested I make the album at Abbey Road, and I jumped at the chance!
“Pete Brown [wrote] the lyrics on seven songs, I wrote ‘Drone’ myself, and Kip Hanrahan and my wife, Margrit, co-wrote one song each with me,” he detailed.
Two cohorts from Bruce’s previous album, Spectrum Road, participated, and he recalled a unique moment in the studio with Uli Jon Roth.
“[Keyboardist] John Medeski and [drummer] Cindy [Blackman Santana] were touring Europe – not together – so it was relatively easy to get them [to Abbey Road] for a day,” he detailed. “When Cindy and me were working with Uli Jon Roth, we took a short break, and after a while I said we should get back to work, as we were running out of time. Uli remarked, ‘Time is a concept best not considered!’”
The music on Silver Rails is as varied as the personnel. “Candlelight” could emanate from a smoky jazz club, “Reach for the Night” is a slow blues, “Fields of Forever” is a straight-ahead rocker, and the vocals from “Hidden Cities” almost belong in a stage play.
The anchor riff of “Rusty Lady” references Cream’s “Politician.”
“I think it’s fine if people recognize the relationship,” he said. “They’re two sides of the same coin.”
The album’s final track, “No Surrender,” is the heaviest.
“I’m finally exhorting myself never to give up the struggle because, ultimately, the struggle is all we have,” Bruce said of the song.
He’ll add some of the songs to the repertoire of another of his projects, Jack Bruce and his Big Blues Band.
“I think they’ll sound great,” he said enthusiastically.
Warwick is offering a second Jack Bruce signature bass that is decidedly different from the original; the Survivor bears a resemblance to the ’50s Gibson EB-3 he used with Cream in the 1960s, and it can be heard on Silver Rails.
“I used it, my favorite Brazilian-rosewood Warwick fretless, and the EB.”
Asked about retiring, Bruce sloughs off the notion.
“It would be nice to slow down a bit and enjoy the house I just bought on Majorca,” he reflected. “But who knows what’s around the corner? That’s what makes life exciting!”
This article originally appeared in VG August 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
This 1958 Gretsch Chet Atkins 6120 four-string tenor guitar is a very rare variation of the model.
Gretsch built other tenors, including the Duo Jet, archtop acoustic, and archtop electric tenors of various other models. Gretsch was not alone in making tenors. Martin, Gibson, and Epiphone all produced tenor versions of many of their standard models.
Tenor guitars were popular in the 1930s and continued to be made into the ’70s, though very few were made after the early ’60s. The heyday of the tenor banjo was the 1920s Dixieland era. At that time, they were more popular than guitars in the U.S., as Dixieland music took the nation by storm. The tenor banjo (and to a lesser extent its cousin, the four-string plectrum banjo) were the dominant fretted instruments of the genre.
The tenor banjo has tremendous volume and projection. One can be heard very clearly through a 12-piece brass band. After 1929, Dixieland music declined dramatically in popularity and was replaced by the crooners such as Bing Crosby and Rudy Vallee, who ruled the music scene from 1929 through 1933. From 1934 through World War II, the big-band era was dominant. The tenor banjo had too strident and piercing a voice to suit either the crooners or the Big Band era.
So the guitar became the dominant fretted instrument, with its lower pitch, more mellow voice, and greater sustain. Thousands of tenor banjo players were faced with either being out of work or switching to guitar. Since the banjo has a different tuning, different scale length, and quite different playing technique, it was a big adjustment. For those who wanted an easier transition, the tenor guitar was an alternative.
By putting the equivalent of a tenor banjo neck on a standard guitar body, the tenor banjo player could adapt virtually immediately. But the tenor guitar sounds very different from a tenor banjo. These instruments have a unique voice, combining the voicing of tenor tuning with the greater depth, mellowness, and sustain of a guitar.
While we frequently encounter people playing a tenor guitar tuned the same as the first four strings of a standard guitar, it should be noted that this is not the way the instrument was intended to be used, nor is it the best way to bring out the sound of these instruments. Tuned in standard guitar manner, a tenor guitar simply is a less complete and weaker instrument. The shorter tenor scale (221⁄2″ to 23″ depending upon the manufacturer) is ideally suited to tenor tuning, but does not give sufficient tension to bring out the best in standard guitar tuning.
Four-string tenors are tuned and played in the same manner as a tenor banjo, in fifths, C, G, D, A (low to high). The instrument extends from a low C to a high A (first-string equivalent to the first string on a standard guitar at the fifth fret). The instrument has a far greater pitch range than the first four strings of a guitar, and the chord voicings are far more versatile. Tuned in fifths in the correct tenor manner, the voicings are the same as bowed instruments such as violin and viola or mandolin family instruments (tenor tuning – C,G,D,A – is the same as viola or mandola).
While the tenor guitar has a unique voice, and well-made tenor instruments of this sort sound very fine, they did not fill a niche in the big bands, and never achieved the popularity of a standard guitar. Tenor banjo players who wanted to make the transition to guitar generally found that simply switching to a tenor instrument with a guitar body was not going to assure them of continued employment.
By the 1950s, tenor guitars were made in relatively small quantities and were more of a curiosity than a mainstream instrument. The tenor received a brief boost in the early ’60s due to being featured in the folk group The Kingston Trio, but most folk players never truly understood tenor voicing, and simply tuned them like the first four strings of a standard guitar.
Today, tenor guitars are most popular among players who back up Texas-style fiddling. While the majority of guitarists backing Western Swing and Texas-style fiddlers perform on six-string guitars playing chord rhythm, a minority use tenor guitars and have found them ideally suited to the chord rhythm played in this style of music.
The tenor Gretsch featured here has a body of the same dimensions and construction as the standard 6120 of the period. The tailpiece is a typical Gretsch “G” logo type set up to hold four strings. The Filtertron pickups are built with the same construction as the six-string version, but are set up with only four sets of pole screws. The neck dimensions are essentially the same as a tenor banjo. The peghead is a smaller tenor size, set up for four strings, but features the same Gretsch name logo and horseshoe inlay as the standard 6120 model of the period. When this guitar was made, a typical six-string 6120 would have had “thumbprint” inlays on the bass side of the fingerboard. This has dot inlays, but on an instrument which, in all probability, is a one-of-a-kind custom-order piece, variations are always possible.
This guitar came with a typical Gretsch 6120-style hardshell case with white covering and tooled leather edge trim. While the neck is shorter than a standard guitar, Gretsch did not have a special design tenor case made with a shorter neck. Had Gretsch tooled up to make large numbers of tenor guitars, they might have had special tenor cases made, but for a custom instrument such as this, they made do with the standard case.
This guitar is in exceptionally fine condition showing virtually no wear. Today, it is owned by Elvis Costello, who has been performing with it onstage. While the tenor guitar will never overcome the standard six-string in popularity, they have a valid voice, deserving of greater recognition.
This article originally appeared in Vintage Guitar magazine’s August 2004 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
1940 ES-300 with serial number 96531. ES-300 SN 96531: Lynn Wheelwright.
Among musicians and collectors, Gibson’s pre-World-War-II ES-300 may be less popular today than the ES-250, but in terms of sheer numbers, it was Gibson’s most popular 17″ pre-war electric, despite the adverse context of the early 1940s. Truth is, most of the more-prominent guitarists of the period continued to favor installing an old-style bar pickup on their 17″ archtop.
In 1940, Gibson was still using the bar pickup conceived in 1935 while its competitors (Rickenbacker excepted) had already upgraded their pickup offerings. The key ingredients to an improved design were smaller and stronger Alnico magnets, whose composition and manufacture had been perfected during the ’30s, and the advent of adjustable pole pieces.
As recounted in the first installment of this series (May ’13), Gibson devised adjustable poles for the bar pickup in early 1938, but the design was not put into production, possibly on cost grounds, but more plausibly because a radical change in pickup construction was already in the offing. Walter Fuller, head of Gibson’s electronics department, knew he had to come up with a truly novel design to restore a competitive edge to the brand’s electrics. Whether for reasons of supplies or because Gibson did not want too many new products in any one year, this much-awaited new pickup design (known today as the P-90) made its debut at the Chicago trade convention in late July, 1940.
In order to maximize its innovative features, Fuller elected to modify the pickup placement, and – in the case of what was initially called the “new ES-250” – its size. A contemporary flyer notes, “The pickup is set at an angle so as to give more brilliancy to the treble strings and a deeper voicing to the bass.” On a 17″-wide archtop, this meant a 63/4″-long unit comprising four Alnico magnets, compared with only 41/16″ and two magnets for the (shorter) unit fitted to the EH-250 lap steel unveiled at the same time.
In both cases, the “offset adjustable pickup,” as it was dubbed, was mounted diagonally under the strings, with the treble poles closer to the bridge to enhance highs and the bass poles closer to the fretboard to provide mellow bass tone. The underlying concept was to offer a broader tonal spectrum for backing or lead work. For the record, Les Paul was among the first players to use the new pickup after he asked Gibson to retrofit the unit on a ’36 L-7 he’d sent back to the factory.
(LEFT) Mid-’40s ad showing Oscar Moore and his electric L-5N with bar pickup. (RIGHT) A Gibson flier featuring Carl Kress (with “new” ES-250) and Tony Mottola (with old-style ES-250).
At first, Gibson thought it was possible to significantly alter a model without changing its designation, as automobile manufacturers do! The fact that both the redesigned ES-250 and EH-250 were packaged with a new natural-finish amplifier featuring a maple cabinet (the EH-275) pushed the list price of the ES outfit up to $300 – and brought about the ES-300 designation used from October, 1940. Meanwhile, for a couple of months, the last of the old-style ES-250s with bar pickup, and the earliest new-style ES-250s (i.e. the first-version ES-300) overlapped in factory records, thereby creating an element of confusion.
At least 22 instruments with the large diagonal pickup were entered in factory records as (new) ES-250s. These guitars typically carry an ES-250 designation on the paper label glued inside their body, but it cannot be ascertained if all actually do, or whether some received new labels in/after the fall of 1940. The examples with the lowest number (e.g. serial numbers 96190 or 96255 to 96263) do, but it is less clear for those released during the October, 1940, change-over period. For example, on October 25, 1940, serial number 96385 is entered as a 250 whilst 96384 is concurrently listed as a 300!
(LEFT) Tony Mottola with the 1941 L-5P fitted with a second bar pickup near the bridge. (RIGHT) To capitalize on his win in Down Beat magazine polls, Gibson falsely claimed Charlie Christian was playing an ES-300.
Compared to a standard ES-300, some of these new-style ES-250s may present slightly unusual peghead appointments such as an L-5 torch inlay, an L-7 “flying tea pot,” or an L-12 Celtic cross, reflecting the experiments done with early samples. But they all feature double-parallelogram inlays on the fingerboard as opposed to open-book or picture-frame inlays on the old-style 250.
Underside of short diagonal pickup with two M55 Alnico magnets.
The ES-300 did not meet with the anticipated acclaim, and comments from players prompted Gibson to revamp the model in early 1941. The long pickup was cut to a more-normal size while remaining positioned at a slight angle in front of the bridge. The first ES-300 with shorter diagonal pickup shipped from late April, 1941, and introduced in a flyer dated May 20. Concurrently, the one-page bulletin included with each new electric instrument took care to mention, “the long pickup… has been replaced with a shorter one; we found a way to get better results by concentrating the energy.”
Excerpt from August, 1940, ledger featuring the “new model ES-250.”
Like its predecessor the new ES-300 was at first available exclusively with a natural finish. A sunburst shading was offered from January of ’42, and by ’43 it was the only finish offered. This can be explained by Gibson’s difficulties in procuring good-quality (figured) maple, and by the sizeable price increase of the ES-300N, which listed for $183.75 in January of ’42 compared to $160 in October of ’40 (an increase of some 15 percent in 15 months). In the name of rationalization, the factory also used L-7 bodies mounted with a pickup to deliver ES-300s as needed (even if some retained their L-7 label!). This explains why some ES-300s may have a one-piece laminated back when others have a two-piece carved back.
1943 second-version ES-300; note fully original ES-150 tailpiece, used due to a shortage of proper ES-300 units. ES-300: Lynn Wheelwright.
Despite the outbreak of war, the second-version ES-300 continued to be offered well into 1943 – as long as permitted by available supplies. The last pre-war ES-300 meant for a dealer was shipped to Jenkins Music on October 9, 1943, while the last two (97929 and 97930) were sent to Chicago Musical Instruments on July 10, 1944. According to factory ledgers, and after stripping out duplicate shipments, the total number of ES-300s delivered from 1940 to ’44 amounts to 344 units, including 22 “new ES-250s.” A (very) few examples may have bypassed the ledgers each year.
The arrival of the ES-300 with its newly-designed Alnico pickup did not prevent some preeminent players from requiring something different, more often than not fitted with the old-style bar pickup. The attraction to Gibson’s first pickup design (which persists to this day in some circles) owes a lot to the impact of Charlie Christian on the jazz guitar scene during his short career, including his famous article published in the December 1, 1939, issue of Down Beat advocating guitarists to switch because “electrical amplification has given guitarists a new lease on life.”
Factory records indicate Les Paul received at least three electric L-5s in addition to the two 17″ electrics (95423 and 95509) from 1938-’39 (discussed in the May installment). In September, 1940, Gibson sent him an L-5P carrying serial number 96276 along with an EH-160 amp via its New York representative, Lanky Neal. In March of ’41, another electric L-5N carrying serial number FA-5165 was delivered to Les, then returned less than a month later to be replaced by a third ES L-5N with serial number 96881, in May.
Also in May of ’41, Gibson endorser Allan Reuss was shipped an electric L-5P in natural finish (96978) fitted with a diagonal pickup. Apparently, the instrument did not impress Reuss, because it was returned to the factory a few months later. Alvino Rey similarly returned various ES-300s with diagonal pickup and chose to stick with his 1940 ES-250.
A few other 17″ electric archtops were delivered in ’41 and ’42 to select players such as Oscar Moore, who, thanks to his association with Nat King Cole, gave a lot of exposure to his L-5N and was accordingly featured in a mid-’40s ad. Historically speaking, though, the most famous of all is the ES L-5P (96515) sent to Charlie Christian in June, 1941, shortly before he had to be admitted to the Seaview Sanitarium in Staten Island. The guitar was eventually returned to Gibson, then passed to Tony Mottola, who would use it throughout his long and distinguished career (in the ’40s, it was factory-fitted with a second bar pickup near the bridge, with three adjusting screws of the second pickup located between the bridge and the tailpiece). But years later, Mottola had the dubious idea of replacing the bridge pickup with a humbucker, thereby defacing an historically important Gibson electric!
This article originally appeared in VG December 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
In more ways than one, Journey Through The Past – the title of Neil Young’s 1972 directorial film debut – would have been a better title for A Letter Home, the latest from Winnipeg’s favorite son. Recorded in the 1947 Voice-o-Graph booth at Jack White’s Third Man Records in Nashville, this all-covers affair is, according to Young, a look back, comprising “songs that changed my life… songs by greater writers.”
On paper, the possible pitfalls are apparent. In concept, this new album would seem to have the potential to be another confounding zig where others zag. (Trans or Everybody’s Rockin’, anyone?)
One listen to the opening title track, however, an off-the-cuff spoken-word piece that Young addresses to his deceased mother, Rassy, should allay the fears of on-the-fence fans. A device that would come off as corn-pone in the hands of another is poignant here. And it sets the tone for most of what follows.
While this album at times makes the Anthology Of American Folk Music sound like it was recorded last week (and this from a guy who spent the previous months making PR hay by touting his Pono digital music system), most of the song selections work well, though there are a handful of clunkers. Springsteen’s “My Hometown” falls flat, and a shambolic, piano-accompanied stab at “On The Road Again” (complete with blown lyrics) makes the Faces sound like the most tightly rehearsed post-hardcore band.
But when the album works, which is most of the time, it’s fantastic. Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Morning Rain” and especially “If You Could Read My Mind” are devastating in Young’s hands, while Bert Jansch’s “Needle Of Death” reads like a bookend to Young’s “Needle And The Damage Done” and “Tonight’s The Night.” And with “Girl From The North Country,” Young evokes the halls of Kelvin High School, circa 1961, more than Dylan does Echo Helstrom back in Hibbing.
A Letter Home is the sound of someone who never rested on his laurels simultaneously reflecting on his past and staring down his foreshortening future. But the sense is that Young is reflecting solely for his own benefit. Whether this is due to the scratchy midcentury warble no doubt common to records of his youth (plus, who would record straight to disc for mass consumption, after all?), the nature of the heavier selections, or the intimacy of the spoken-word opener, the fan is often made to feel thrillingly voyeuristic as Young, with looseness in his playing and (even more) quaver in his voice, in some ways reveals more than he did in all 500-plus pages of his autobiography.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s September ’14 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Moniker Guitars recently launched a line of customizable electric guitars that players design using an online configurator.
Customizing a Moniker begins with selecting among three body types: the LP-style Reedsdale, Tele-style Dixie, or Jaguar-style Zuma (all in alder and available as semi or solid). From there, options such as finish, graphics, pickups, and hardware are selected using a clickable palette, and Moniker fields personal requests via e-mail. Beyond tuner and pickup choices, options are essentially aesthetic; buyers can choose between a maple or rosewood fingerboard, for example, but there are no options for neck profiles, fretwire gauge, or nut material. This may be a downside for those seeking true custom-shop flexibility, but let’s face it – the majority of players aren’t seeking deep-tissue customization.
VG opted for a Moniker T-style Dixie solidbody in Electric Blue finish with maple fingerboard, a surf-themed pickguard, pearl-capped black Volume and Tone knobs, and chrome for the bridge-pickup surround, control plate, and Schaller locking tuners. Moniker-branded humbucker and single-coil models are standard, but we chose a pair of Seymour Duncan Vintage single-coils at an upcharge.
Moniker made good on its advertised promise of a four-week turnaround, and the finish and workmanship were pristine, the parts of high quality. The 24.75″ scale-length neck was a solid handful: C-shaped, 111/16″ at the graphite nut, 22 frets, and bolted on through a four-screw backplate. The back of the neck had the same glossy finish as the body, which made for a nice, soft feel in the palm.
With a small tweak of the truss rod, the Dixie’s action could be set low without producing fret buzz or creating dead spots; it’s not a lightning-fast neck, but comfortable for light lead work, and full six-string chords were easily fretted all the way up to 12th position. It took just a little muscle to get some edge and that signature Tele spank from the moderate-output Duncan single-coils, which was consistent with Moniker’s description of a pickup set with Broadcaster-like tones – slightly snarly leads from the bridge pickup, and warm lows/mids topped by airy highs from the neck.
Moniker is all about enabling players to make a dream design real and putting it in their hands at a reasonable price. They stamp the company name on the back of the headstock and hand-write the serial number “1/1,” making it official that the guitar you’ve designed is one of a kind.
This article originally appeared in VG April 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
