Godin’s 5th Avenue CW Kingpin II and Richmond Dorchester
We’re living in a golden age of retro guitars – a period when you can barely turn around without tripping over some cool, vintage-styled plank. Granted, the retro fad has become a bit cliché. But who cares? An avalanche of rose-tinted guitars sure beats the pointy, heavy-metal binge of the ’80s or the bottomless pit of Strat copies we suffered in the ’90s! In that light, let’s have a look at two “oldies” from Godin.
The 5th Avenue CW Kingpin II is a cutaway variation on the popular 5th Avenue archtops. Beyond the cutaway, Godin added two P-90 pickups to conjure a guitar that evokes the vintage jazzboxes of the post-war era (before Seth Lover’s humbucking pickup irrevocably altered the guitar landscape in 1957). The Kingpin II has a top, back, and sides made of Canadian wild cherry – an unusual guitar wood, but functional. Its neck is maple with a rosewood fingerboard shaped with a 16” radius. The guitar has a 24.84” scale – a hair longer than a Les Paul. The suitably simple electronics include the two P-90s, a master volume and tone, and a three-way toggle. There’s also an adjustable Tusq bridge by GraphTech.
The Kingpin II works as an acoustic or electric guitar, so it’s handy for practicing alone or in a live-band situation. Still, the guitar projects reasonably well unplugged. The neck also feels more like an acoustic, perhaps due to the unbound fingerboard, and is also quite slim and easy to play – unlike post-war archtops with necks like baseball bats. Plugged in, the Kingpin has a nice array of tones, from warm and jazzy to twangy and funky. Stylistically, you can cover a lot of ground with this guitar – pretty much anything you can think of minus high-volume rock. But rockabilly, roots rock, alt-country, blues, modern rock, and jazz inflections galore can be conjured up on this guitar. While the mid-price archtop market is fairly crowded right now, the clever addition of P-90s clearly puts the Godin 5th Avenue CW Kingpin II in a different light. Also, the guitar comes in Godin’s “thermally regulated instrument case” (TRIC), which is lightweight and durable.
Richmond is a sub-brand of Godin, and specializes in British Invasion-styled axes like the Belmont, which came out a few years ago. The Dorchester is their latest, and it’s another 45-year trip back in time to the days of Beatles haircuts, garage bands, and cheapo Italian, Japanese, and German axes. This, however, is a well-crafted axe that’s made in Canada. Finished in a orange-y Cherry Burst reminiscent of vintage Rickenbackers (it also comes in black), the Dorchester has a chambered maple body with poplar wings. Its 251/2”, rock-maple, two-piece neck is fitted with either an “Ergocut” rosewood or maple fingerboard that is beveled on the sides for a worn-in, comfortable feel. Hardware includes a chrome roller bridge with fixed tailpiece and some very hip-looking Lace Alumitone humbuckers – the neck pickup also has a sexy slant to it, adding to the ’60s hipster allure of the Dorchester.
Running through a Mack tube amp and a Line 6 digital rig, the Dorchester exuded a snappy, twangy sound that seemed perfect for anything from surf to a Fab Four medley. The unique four-position pickup selector is another interesting twist and brought up more twangy tones. The neck position, however, wires the pickups in series for a fatter, beefier tone. Overall, the guitar sounds great, especially for clean or slightly gritty material; even molten overdrive sounds are on the money. Its 21-fret neck is perfectly shred-fast, but doesn’t have much personality – it’s the standard, rosewood-on-maple neck you see on hundreds of guitars these days. Far more impressive is the Dorchester’s angular body design and those cool Alumitone pickups. Paired with some pointy-toed Italian boots and a Farfisa organ, the Dorchester will rock the roof off.
Godin 5th Avenue CW Kingpin II, Richmond Dorchester
This article originally appeared in VG May 2010 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Los Lonely Boys’ new album, Revelation, draws from several influences while retaining the band’s Texas/Mexican identity. Collaborating with a group of top-tier tunesmiths, Revelation weaves pop, reggae, soul, and conjunto influences. It follows guitarist Henry Garza’s recovery from a violent fall from the concert stage. After a stretch in the hospital, he’s excited about getting busy on the guitar.
Vintage Guitar:You’ve figured out how to mix your culture with accessible, guitar-driven pop. Was that the plan?
Henry Garza:Every one of the songs sounds different, and is in its own world. That’s the way we wanted to record; we didn’t want to push a song into sounding like something it wasn’t. We let the song lead us and didn’t detour; if it needed Texican country, rock, pop, soul, R&B, heavy – we didn’t fight it.
Was there discussion about using outside songwriters?
Yes. We’ve been doing are own production for a while, and our management gave us a list of people who wanted to write with us and were pretty successful. The plan was to write with people, get a producer, and bring more energy and excitement. Still, though, me and my brothers are real tight – nobody gets between us – and our music is an extension of that.
Have producers tried to change your sound?
Yeah, but we’ve been doing this so long we never felt like we needed anyone’s help. We’re not trying to write hits, but business is business and you have to make good decisions. We’re a real-life family that plays music for a living. That’s how we paid the bills – with our Pops and brothers and sisters, sticking together. It’s never been about making records or being famous. It’s been about playing to survive.
How do you balance that with writing songs for the radio?
That’s what every artist is looking for – having something that fits into where the world seems to be going. When you hear a song like “Blame It On Love,” you can hear that Texican sound and know it’s Los Lonely Boys – that’s us coming right through. You can also hear other influences, and that’s being who we are. That’s getting something on the radio with blues, rock, or country, and creating it for the now.
Talk about your accident.
[I fell into an] orchestra pit that was 12 feet deep. We had finished the show and I ran out to shake some hands [but] didn’t know there was a hole. The momentum shot me forward and I torpedoed onto my face and was told that because I didn’t know I was falling, I didn’t tense up or brace myself, which probably saved my life. I had a fractured neck, herniated discs, and bulging discs. I’m alive and doing a lot better. I’m a spiritual dude; I put it in God’s hands.
What are you playing now?
Tejana is my number one guitar. She’s a Mexican Strat I put together with my tech, Ish Flores, and has Texas Special pickups, which I love. We do it like we do our cars – make them into lowriders and put our own flash on them (laughs)!
This article originally appeared in VG Acoustic no.001 e-newsletter. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Renowned folk singer/songwriter, musicologist, organizer, and political activist Pete Seeger died January 27 at a hospital in New York City. He was 94 and passed from natural causes.
Seeger was born in 1919 to Charles Seeger, Jr. and his wife, Constance. Charles Seeger is credited with helping found the academic discipline of ethnomusicology in his work for the University of California. Constance was a concert violinist who also taught at the Julliard School. After his parents divorced in the mid 1920s, Charles married Ruth Crawford, a music student and composer who later contributed to Carl Sandburg’s influential folk-music anthology, The American Songbag.
Pete Seeger began playing the ukulele as a schoolboy, and at 17 discovered the five-string banjo when the family, while researching rural American folk music, attended the Mountain Dance and Folk Festival in North Carolina. Enthralled, Pete asked his father to arrange for him to learn basic strokes on a five-string banjo from festival organizer Bascom Lamaar Lunsford. He then spent the next several years focused on learning the instrument.
After finishing prep school, Seeger attended Harvard, studying to be journalist. There, he started a political newspaper and joined the Young Communist League. He left college after two years and moved to New York City, where he helped Alan Lomax catalog and transcribe music at the Archive of American Folk Song at the Library of Congress.
Seeger’s life was always immersed in folk music and the socioeconomic realities of those who created it. As a result, he became a political figurehead who performed songs for the grass-roots audiences at labor rallies, anti-war rallies, civil rights marches, colleges, and folk festivals. He typically played banjo or guitar during these performances, and was known for adapting spirituals and other traditional songs and encouraging the audiences to sing along with him.
In 1942, he was drafted to the U.S. Army and trained as an airplane mechanic, but then assigned to a unit of performers in the Pacific Theater. After the war, he resumed performing and in ’49 helped form The Weavers, a folk group that also included Lee Hays, Ronnie Gilbert, and Fred Hellerman. By the early ’50s, the band had sold some four million singles and albums, but Seeger’s membership in the Communist Party (which he had disavowed prior to forming the band) came back to haunt him when a pamphlet was published listing performers with known Communist ties. It essentially blacklisted the group, which then broke up. Seeger was subsequently called to testify before the U.S. House of Representatives and, after refusing to answer questions about his political beliefs, was charged with contempt, indicted, and sentenced to a year in prison. The indictment, however, was overturned.
His discography ultimately included more than 100 albums and several hit songs, mostly via his time with The Weavers. The ’60s saw a new generation of performers find inspiration in Seeger’s life and work. Among them were Bob Dylan, Don McLean, and others involved in the “folk boom,” including the Byrds, who in ’65 scored a major hit with “Turn, Turn, Turn,” which was written by Seeger.
Seeger remained very active, professionally and politically, throughout his career. A co-founder of the Newport Folk Festival, he was integral to the folk-music revival of the ’60s. By the mid ’60s, he began to call attention to environmental issues, which he championed through the remainder of his life. In 1996, he was inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. In ’97, he won a Grammy Award for best traditional folk album. He won the award again in 2009, and then in 2011 won in the children’s music category. Vega and Martin have both issued instruments that carry his name; Vega the Pete Seeger Longneck banjo, Martin the JSO and J12SO! Sing Out Pete Seeger model guitars.
“Seeger was one of the most influential and iconic performers in the history of American traditional and folk music,” said VG contributor George Gruhn. “He combined music with political and social activism influencing millions of people. He helped to promote the careers of numerous musicians including Woody Guthrie and Leadbelly. During the late 1950s through the mid ’60s, Pete was one of the major catalysts for the increased popularity of five-string banjos and 12-string guitars in folk and popular music. His legacy is vastly greater than the sum of his recorded music.”
Seeger is survived by a son, two daughters, a half-sister, and six grandchildren.
This article originally appeared in VG May 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Chris Poland’s signature legato was born from tragedy. As a teen, his left hand accidentally punched through a plate-glass window and cut tendons in his fingers. He lost the ability to bend his index finger, and lost feeling in his pinkie. As a result, he learned unique fretting techniques that set the bar for inventive metal soloing on the first two Megadeth albums, and an impressive collection of solo and band projects.
Today, he leaps from jazz with Polecat to metal with Queensryche and Lamb of God to fusion with Ohm.
Fans of your playing in Megadeth think of you as a metal guy, but you’re actually from the Mahavishnu Orchestra school.
I ripped off all that stuff. On “Sister Cheryl,” the ascending chord part is basically half the section from “Electric Dreams.” I learned all the chords from “Birds Of Fire” and a lot of the chords from “Inner Mounting Flame.” McLaughlin does a lot of triads with his thumbs doing bass roots here and there. I was so into the band that I incorporated those chords into whatever I do.
How did you develop that fluid legato?
The outro solo on Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times Bad Times” has ascending and descending lines that got me started. Once I began listening to jazz and fusion, I started listening to a lot of Wayne Shorter and Michael Brecker. I don’t have their harmonic knowledge, but when you listen to something long enough, you emulate it a bit. I just like the way it sounds. I’m a huge Holdsworth fan.
How did Ohm come together?
I tried some vocal projects with my brother and different guys and it was always so contrived, except for Damn The Machine, which was heartfelt. We tried best we could, but it just didn’t fly. One day, I called Pag [bassist Robertino Pagliari] because we played in a band called The New Yorkers and were into the fusion thing that was happening with Billy Cobham, Tony Williams, Return To Forever, and those bands. Pag was into Brand X.
We were doing well around town, then The Knack came out and L.A. decided that they didn’t like our music anymore. So we quit. I went through all these bands trying to get record deals. I called Pag and I said, “Let’s just play music we like and work jobs.” Otherwise, you’re just standing around wondering why you’re not playing. It’s the same way I felt in Megadeth. For a while it was fun, but after a while you’re like, “I can’t write anything with the band because it all has to be in this pigeonholed thing.” Now we do what we do. We’re never going to make any money, but I don’t think anybody is.
You’ve played on records by Lamb of God, Geoff Tate’s last Queensryche record, and jazz with Polecat. Which is the most challenging?
I played on Michael Angelo’s record and it was the fastest thing I’ve ever played! (Laughing) It was the fastest rhythm section I have ever heard in my life, and I know it was played by human beings! It just freaked me out!
This article originally appeared in VG Febuary 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Leslie West is renowned for his iconic tone and revered as a forefather of classic rock. A true survivor, he’s adjusting after a life-saving leg amputation, but forging ahead and inspired to continue making music. West filled us in with a rundown of the tracks on his aptly titled latest release, Still Climbing.
“I started recording a year ago,” he said. “I wanted this album to be a progression of Unusual Suspects, and I wanted to take my time putting everything together. I had some good ideas for riffs and didn’t want to be redundant in guitar solos. My wife, Jenni, wrote some great lyrics and my friend, Jon Tiven, helped with some others. My co-producer and engineer, Mike Goldberg, played drums, and Rev Jones played bass.
“I started with ‘When A Man Loves A Woman,’ the track with Jonny Lang. We sat in the control room, and played and sang together. I love the way Jonny sings and plays. He sings from his chest with a lot of feeling. He sounds like he could be a 50-year-old bluesman. Then I did ‘Dyin’ Since the Day I Was Born,’ which Mark Tremonti played on. He’s a fast player, but very melodic. ‘Tales Of Woe’ is just me with an acoustic guitar and a slide. That’s one of my favorites. It’s not a pity party, but I’ve had some ‘tales of woe’ in the last year; my friend David Biglin played the acoustic intro that sounds like a Spanish guitar. David also played acoustic, keyboard, and B3 on ‘When A Man Loves A Woman’ and ‘Feeling Good.’ He plays great acoustic and does things that I’m not so great at. I’d rather have him play those parts so I can play lead or slide over them. Next was ‘Feeling Good’ with my friend, Dee Snider. People don’t realize he’s not just a screamer. We trade lines in a couple of places and when we sang together, sometimes you can’t tell who’s who.
“I’d heard ‘Fade Into You’ on the [television] show ‘Nashville.’ A guy and girl did it acoustic, and I thought it was great. I started fooling around and changed it up by starting off acoustic, then really ripping into it heavy when the chorus comes up. I was surprised by how good it came out. ‘Hatfield Or McCoy’ also came from Jenni and I watching TV. She started writing lyrics, then I started playing slide and it came together quickly. That one was a lot of fun. The female vocals were Elaine Caswell. She did a great job.
“Johnny Winter played on ‘Busted, Disgusted Or Dead.’ He wrote a couple of songs with me before, and I’d done a track on his album, so I thought it would be great to have Mike go to the studio in Connecticut where Johnny works, and record him. He plays the middle solo and we made it sound like we’re playing together.
“‘Don’t Ever Let Me Go’ has a guest spot by Dylan Rose, who plays with James Durbin from ‘American Idol.’ My manager said he sounds kind of like me, so I let him play the ride-out. He has melody, but to me, he sounds like a Mark Tremonti or Zakk Wylde.
“I re-recorded ‘Long Red’ because of all the people who sampled it! It’s one of the most sampled hip-hop songs of all time. That blew my mind! Lana Del Rey, Nas, Depeche Mode, Jay Z., Kanye West… This is the way I do it now. It’s a lot heavier. Who knew when I wrote it in 1969 that it was hip-hop? My brother, Larry, played bass on it.
“My favorite track on the album is ‘Not Over You At All.’ Oh, boy, I love the riff on that song!
“For the gear, I changed amps on this album. I started using a Blackstar Series One 100 head with the channel-switching footpedal for clean, fat clean, slightly dirty, and then full-out gain. Mike Goldberg didn’t EQ my guitar, so what you hear is the sound from the amp. For effects, I used a TC Electronic digital delay and an octave pedal.
“I played four Dean guitars, which all have my MOT Mountain of Tone pickup. It sounds like a P-90, but it’s a humbucker. The new Mudflap Mama model has a stainless-steel mudflap girl inlaid on the neck, and it has the biggest sound. The Mississippi Queen sounds different altogether and its graphics are amazing. I used a Dean V for slide with a Joe Perry Boneyard porcelain slide – porcelain works really well. You don’t hear the squeaking or clanking of metal. The acoustic is a Larrivee jumbo. It has a great sound for recording. I’m really happy with the way everything came out – from the songs to the sounds!”
This article originally appeared in VG May 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Just like guitars, ukuleles come in all quality levels, from uke-shaped objects made of plastic, composite board, and unidentifiable materials, to solid-wood professional-grade instruments. Ohana Ukuleles’ offerings are definitely in the latter category, geared toward the serious amateur and professional player on a budget who demands a solid-wood instrument capable of tuning and playing easily, staying in tune, and projecting well.
Three examples from Ohana’s current lineup – the SK-35, the SK-28, and the CKP-70R – all share a very similar price, but have three very different body styles and differing details. All three use bone nuts and saddles, Aquila strings, and precision friction tuners. Other shared characteristics include a similar high level of fit and finish. The Ohana satin finish is three coats of polyurethane and polyethylene with prep stages between each, and it’s virtually impossible to hide signs of wood filler or other “fixes.”
Ohana uses wood from various sources, including spruce, cedar, redwood, and myrtle from the United States, and mahogany and Indian rosewood from Africa and Asia. According to Ohana’s founder and owner, Louis Wu, all woods used by Ohana are certified sustainable and compliant with regulations like the U.S. Lacey Act for forest conservation. The wood used for the tops, backs, and sides of all three ukes displayed tight, straight, grain patterns the likes of which one wouldn’t be surprised to see on a top-echelon guitar or mandolin. All three displayed an excellent level of fit and finish, with no obvious flaws. The finish on the back of the neck was especially smooth and comfortable, fret ends were well-finished and didn’t protrude from the fretboard, and all three were set up well so they played easily with no dead spots or intonation issues. Finally, binding details were impeccable; even the intricate rope and herringbone binding on the SK-28 is virtually seamless. The SK-35, least ornate of the three, is dressed with elegant four-ply binding on its top, three-ply on its headstock.
The bracing, which is just as important to a ukulele’s overall sound as it is to a guitar’s, varies from model to model, and is based mainly on three factors: body shape and size, wood combinations used, and the thickness of wood specified for the instrument. Some models have the more standard fan-bracing pattern, while others use different and unique bracing schemes.
Ohana’s luthiers, who work at the company’s factory workshop in China and develop the build details of each model, look at each new instrument design independently to achieve a balanced tone and durable structure (though Ohana tries to stay true to the original bracing design on its vintage reissue models).
As one might expect from solid-wood instruments with different body styles and bracing, all three sounded different. The CKP-70R has the least traditional body style (it’s modeled on a Vita-Uke, with a pear-shaped body) but was the loudest of the three, with the best projection, dynamic range, more bass extension and a more harmonically complex tonality, especially in its lower midrange.
If you’re in the market for a pro-level ukulele, give Ohana ukuleles a look and listen. They’re serious instruments that are, most definitely, made to be played.
This article originally appeared in VG May 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Henretta Engineering Pedals
Prices: Green Zapper, Bluebird, and Purple Octopus, $125 each; Chord Blaster, $140
Info: www.henrettaengineering.com.
Bigger is not necessarily better – especially when you have a pedal board full of stompboxes, but still need room for just one more effect. In this case, miniscule can rule.
Enter Henretta Engineering and its unique lineup; eight analog pedals handmade here in the good old U.S.A., each with just a 2×2-inch footprint. Small is indeed beautiful.
Their square shape allows these little fellows to squeeze into spaces typically uninhabitable on pedalboards, and they are easily rotated to position their 9-volt jacks right to left, left to right, up to down, or down to up.
Add to this one more novel feature: These mini stompboxes are “no-knobbers.” Each has an on/off footswitch, but that’s it. Sound parameters are dialed in with internal trimmers; then the player can simply forget about the settings. It’s that easy.
Mastermind Kevin Henretta offers the Orange Whip Compressor, Bluebird Fuzz, Green Zapper Auto Filter, Mr. White Tweak Boost, Pinkman Dirty Boost, Crimson Tremolo, Purple Octopus Octave Up, and Emerald Prince Preamp. The concept, of course, is a nod to vintage Dan Armstrong mini pedals like the Blue Clipper and Orange Squeezer, but Henretta’s creations are simpler, rock-solid, and brand-spanking-new.
Henretta sets up all of the pedals for a Telecaster with vintage-inspired medium-output pickups. Users playing a similar axe may never need to open up these effects for tweaking. Otherwise, adjustment is simple, and the sound can be customized to the user’s rig.
Several Henretta pedals were tested in their stock settings with a ’55 Esquire, ’56 Strat, and Gretsch 6120 reissue through a vintage tweed Deluxe and Grammatico LaGrange amps.
On its factory trim settings, the Green Zapper proved closer to a compressor than a high-powered Mu-Tron III. To get more oomph, we re-trimmed the sound and dialed in a nice little funk chunk for a Bootsy Collins-approved vibe.
The Bluebird Fuzz gave a subtle yet sublime overdrive, adding teeth to the sound without distorting the tone, which is certainly something that can’t be said of all fuzz pedals. Think of it like an Ibanez Tube Screamer enriching that special tube-amp voice.
Finally, Henretta’s Purple Octopus worked well in adding overtones that rang clear, especially on the higher strings. It’s quite sensitive to the touch and picking on the guitar, but when you get those octave notes, it sings like a heavenly choir. Combining the Bluebird Fuzz and Purple Octopus inline proved great fun, resulting in a fine Octavia-like sound that would have made Mr. Hendrix smile.
But wait, there’s more. Henretta also offers a full-size stompbox. The Chord Blaster, is also handmade and all-analog. Sure, the world may not need another distortion box, but this one offers something special. The Chord Blaster boasts two differently voiced gain controls that work independently and together for a wide range of sounds. This dual distortion control is coupled with a simple Tone control of the see-saw type in which the bass is boosted on one end, the highs on the other. The yellow Blast knob distorts the upper mids while the red Chord knob distorts the lower mids.
Upon Henretta’s sage advice, the blue Tone and green Volume controls were set to noon. Then the Blast knob could be dialed up to the level of distortion and upper mid presence desired. From there, the Chord control filled up the bottom end. It doesn’t take much touch to intensify the fuzziness as it’s dialed up past 9 o’clock.
Gain is definitely the Chord Blaster’s thing. Again, it can be used like a TS9 Tube Screamer to add some edge to your amp, or tweak it until it shakes the spider webs out of your attic and dusts your house for you. Talk about almost unlimited options for shaping your sound! It’s difficult to think of another stompbox that offers so many ways to personalize your distortion.
This article originally appeared in VG May 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
One of the most innovative companies of the pre-World-War-II era, National found out quickly that innovation was a double-edged sword. Just as their resonator guitars of the late 1920s made the acoustic Hawaiian guitars of Hermann Weissenborn obsolete, electric guitars of the mid 1930s – some of them made of National’s own making – threatened to deal a similar fate to National’s resonator guitars within a decade of their introduction.
This National Silvo guitar represents not only an effort to present a beautiful, upscale electric Hawaiian model, it also features an innovative feature designed to salvage a waning demand for National’s acoustic resonator guitars.
Though the electric guitar era was barely five years old when National introduced the Silvo in 1937, this guitar would have been seen as a throwback to an earlier time. From the beginning of the electric era – Rickenbacker’s cast aluminum “Frying Pan” of 1932 – electric Hawaiian guitars had been functionally, if not literally, solidbody instruments. The Silvo’s fully hollow metal body was more closely related to the acoustic tri-cone resonator guitars National introduced in ’27 and the single-cone, nickel-plated Style N of 1930 than to any of the electric Hawaiians on the market in the mid ’30s. In fact, the Silvo body appears to be the same as that of a National Style 1 tenor guitar, so one of the reasons for the design may have been to use up surplus tenor bodies.
National was an early player in the electric-guitar market, introducing an electrified Dobro in ’33. But despite the popularity of National’s metalbody tri-cone and single-cone models, when it came to electrics under the National brand, the company opted for more -traditional wood-bodied instruments (furnished by other makers), in which National installed its electronics. Consequently, the Silvo didn’t look like any electric guitar – Spanish or Hawaiian – in the National lineup or anywhere else in the market.
From metal guitar bodies in the late ’20s to molded fiberglass solidbody guitars in the early ’60s, National was always trying new materials. In the ’30s, it was “ebonoid” – black-colored celluloid that company literature referred to as “National’s exclusive beautifier.” National used ebonoid as a substitute for ebony fingerboards (on Hawaiian models) and headstock veneers. On the Silvo, the ebonoid trim extended to the circular plate that held the bridge, pickup, and control knobs. The Roman numeral fingerboard markers, headstock logo, and the designs in the circular plate were achieved by etching through a top layer of ebonoid to reveal a light-colored celluloid layer underneath.
The Silvo, according to catalog copy, “offers everything to a conservative buyer,” but the only conservative aspect of the model was its price. Though it looks as if it would be the top model, it was really mid-line – at $60, it was between the flashy black-and-white New Yorker at $75 and the plain wood-body Supro Hawaiian at $35. It occupied middle ground in the market, as well; Gibson’s EH-150 was available (without the matching amp) for $70, and Gibson’s EH-100 was $44. Rickenbacker’s Bakelite Model B was $62.50, and their chrome-plated, stamped-steel Silver Hawaiian model was $37.50 (these prices are for six-string models without case).
Along with the Hawaiian Silvo, National offered a metalbody tenor guitar and a metalbody mandolin fitted with the Silvo control plate. Both were priced same as the Hawaiian, $60. Curiously, National did not offer a standard six-string Spanish-neck Silvo.
The circular plate on the body was the Silvo’s most innovative feature, but ironically, it did nothing to advance the design of electric Hawaiian guitars, because it was intended for a different purpose on an entirely different guitar – to convert National’s single-cone acoustic resonators to electrics. The plate fit National’s single-cone models such as the Duolian, Triolian, and Style O, and National offered the unit, with the “res-o-lectric” pickup, for just that purpose. The price of $25 included installation. In fact, National would not deliver the unit alone; the buyer had to send his guitar to the factory for installation by National technicians (National also offered to convert any of its tri-cone model to electric for the same price, but on those, the pickup would be mounted directly to the original metal coverplate).
Judging by the rarity of Silvo Hawaiian models and the even greater rarity of converted Duolians, Triolians, Style O’s, etc., the innovative conversion module was a commercial failure. The inconvenience and risk of mailing a guitar to the factory for what appeared to be a simple do-it-yourself retrofit – remove and replace the coverplate, drill a hole in the rim for the jack – was no doubt a factor. National’s pickup design, which by the late ’30s was falling behind those of Gibson and Epiphone, may have been a factor, too. And as the electric guitar began to gain acceptance in the market, players showed a preference for more-traditional-looking archtop models; a converted metalbody National may have played and sounded just fine, but in the context of a Gibson ES-250 with its fancy inlays or an Epiphone Zephyr with its blond finish, a converted National looked like a hybrid from a bygone era.
The Silvo Hawaiian had a beautiful look and a reasonable price – a combination that typically meant success – but it lasted in production for only three years, from 1937 to ’39. Today, it stands as one of the least successful innovations from one of the most innovative guitar companies of the pre-war years.
This article originally appeared in VG December 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
(LEFT) 1936 NIOMA Hawaiian guitar and peghead. (RIGHT) 1936 NIOMA Hawaiian guitar and peghead.
NIOMA musical instruments from the 1930s and ’40s – with their vaguely Hawaiian-looking name – have mystified vintage-guitar enthusiasts over the decades when they’ve occasionally surfaced in retail shops and guitar shows.
The seven known models – three acoustic guitars, two dobro-like resophonics, and two electric lap steels – were oriented to those who made Hawaiian music. But the backstory of NIOMA represents far more than those surviving artifacts – it’s the untold saga of a 1930s franchise music school founded in Seattle – the National Institute of Music and Arts, or NIOMA.
On July 7, 1932, attorney D. Wilbur Zundel represented founders Harry Baxter and Mary M. Strnad in filing incorporation documents with the State of Washington. NIOMA’s headquarters, at 4519 University Way in Seattle’s Kalberg Building (now home to the Seattle Daily Times) were “spacious, modernly equipped studios” and the three comprised NIOMA’s initial Board of Trustees, though Baxter and Strnad remain a bit mysterious. Each lived within blocks of the school in 1933, but then disappeared from the business/telephone directories. It seems Baxter is the same Harry V. Baxter who was a one-time flautist with the Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra, longtime member of Los Angeles Flute Club, and in 1916, head of that city’s Baxter-Northup Music Company. He believed that “love for music and the desire to offer the advantages of a musical education would lead not only to the betterment of the individual, but to the social, civic, and moral uplift of the community.” Strnad resurfaced later in Los Angeles – where, intriguingly, a second branch was opened in 1934, at 951 S. Western Avenue.
NIOMA’s goals
NIOMA’s Articles of Incorporation make clear the goals of its founders; to “operate, maintain and conduct for profit, schools and studios for the teaching of all classes of instrumental and vocal music… all forms of dancing, radio broadcasting, dramatics, public speaking and all other forms of art, music and entertainment.” In addition, they intended to eventually “manufacture, buy, sell, export, import, publish and deal in violins, pianos, organs, phonographs, radios, musical instruments, musical appliances, accessories, musical supplies, musical publications, and sheet music.”
NIOMA was possibly inspired by Harry G. Stanley’s Cleveland-based Oahu School of Music, whose business model franchised hundreds of schools across America beginning in 1926. Stanley’s associated Oahu Publishing Company later began producing sheet music and song folios for their legions of students, and he also contracted with various established instrument manufacturers (including, reportedly, Harmony, Kay, National/Valco and Rickenbacker) to build “Oahu” guitars and amps. But, given the range of arts classes offered at NIOMA, Seattle’s school seems to have been even more ambitious.
Student Orchestras
When NIOMA was founded, the national economy couldn’t have been worse; the Great Depression, one would think, left few families with spare funds to send their kids to an arts school. But, NIOMA’s salesmen went door-to-door pitching $1 weekly lessons in clarinet, cello, trumpet, piano, viola, and violin, and by March of 1933, the shop’s musical director, Charles F. Hodell, had 400 kids performing pop standards like “All Through The Night,” “At Dawning,” “Believe Me If All Those Enduring Young Charms,” “Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes,” and “I Love You Truly” publicly in a gigantic orchestra.
Later that year, NIOMA conjured up what was perhaps the ultimate ploy to attract even younger students with an idea almost certain to spark the interest (and dues-paying!) of proud parents – that of forming the Seattle Baby Orchestra, which would be led by noted child educator Miss Margaret Gribbin. Then, circa 1934, the Seattle school had Herman Bueller leading its 30-member Junior Symphony Orchestra (which presumably featured more-advanced players selected from the overall pool of students). By ’35, NIOMA had several branches in Seattle and would soon have others in Washington towns like Aberdeen, Bellingham, Bremerton, Camas, Port Townsend, Tacoma, Vancouver, Wenatchee, and Yakima – along with Gresham, Hillsboro, Oregon City, and Salem in Oregon, and Boise, Idaho. In time, schools were also established in far-flung locations like Salt Lake City, El Paso, and Calgary.
The NIOMA Guitar Orchestra, Seattle, 1939. Note the two NIOMA resophonic guitarss in the back row.
The Guitar Orchestra
Later in ’35, NIOMA added guitar instruction. In Seattle, a 40-strong ensemble Guitar Orchestra was formed and featured scores of Spanish-style guitars along with even more Hawaiian-style lap-steel guitars. After a year of learning to steel on an acoustic, students could opt to move up to an electric lap-steel – but lessons increased to $2 each. The organization published a series of sheet-music folios – the “NIOMA Modern Plan of Hawaiian Guitar Instruction,” along with an individual song series (“NIOMA Hawaiian Melodies”) that included island classics like “Aloha Oe,” “Akahi Hoi,” and “Ahi Wela.” A variety of guitars can be spotted in the various surviving NIOMA band photos, but those relevant here were produced under the schools’ own brand.
NIOMA Hawaiian Guitar
This entry-level student-model guitar is a simple 12-frets-to-the-neck flat-top acoustic with a light-toned birch body and white-painted trim around the top edge and sound hole. It also has a NIOMA logo decal on the peghead, black-button tuning gears, a raised black nut (for Hawaiian steel playing), floating wooden bridge, and a rudimentary stamped metal tailpiece. This model (manufacturer’s date of “1/36” stamped into the back of the peghead) was, in all likelihood, produced for NIOMA schools by the Regal Musical Instrument Company, of Chicago, which also produced instruments for the Montgomery Ward’s department-store chain.
NIOMA Spanish Guitar
A step up in quality from the Hawaiian Guitar is this 14-fret Spanish-style (probably walnut) with white trim, arched top, and raised pickguard. The guitar also boasts a NIOMA logo decal on the headstock, black-button tuning gears, floating wooden bridge, and a stamped metal tailpiece. It offers a few more clues as to its origins, specifically a manufacturer’s model number (1169) inked inside and the code “VV W” stamped into the neck heel. Guitar/amp historian Mike Newton believes it was likely produced by the Chicago-based Harmony Company in 1937 or ’38, after it had bought the Stella and Sovereign product lines from the bankrupt Oscar Schmidt Company. “The body size and shape are pretty much identical to the ‘new, improved’ $9 model 1105 Stella guitar in the 1939/’40 catalog,” he said. “It’s also the same size and shape as several of the nicer Harmony flat-tops, one of which is the $11 Model 1193 – it even has the same peghead shape. The design of the stamped tailpiece would date it to 1937 or so. All of that, along with the inked 1196 – doubtless the Harmony model number – pretty much nails it as being a Harmony product.”
NIOMA Resophonic Guitar
This square-neck acoustic with metal resonator cone was produced by Regal, which made countless instruments under many brand names and supplied guitar bodies to the “big boys” on the West Coast – Dobro Manufacturing Company and National String Instrument Corporation. This 12-fret NIOMA has a Regal (Model 25) body with a sunburst finish, maple body binding (top and bottom), two f-shaped sound holes, a standard Regal brushed-metal resonator, rosewood neck, raised white nut, white-button tuning gears, slotted peghead with gold heat-stamped NIOMA logo, and a chrome tailpiece. An even more deluxe variation – the Regal (Model 37) body, with a solid headstock and two screened ports – was produced later.
NIOMA Lap Steel Guitar
This handsome solidbody electric lap-steel guitar – which was sold with a matching amplifier for about $70 – is clearly another student-quality instrument. The guitar’s wooden body is sheathed in gray marbled pearloid plastic, but other specimens exist in green. The angular, almost-Art-Deco body, boasts minimal features – a lone knob to control volume, a chrome palm rest, a jack on its butt, white-button tuning gears, and a small metal logo tacked to the peghead.
Guitar historian Lynn Wheelwright detected similarities between the NIOMA’s split-blade electromagnetic pickup and circa 1938-’40 National/Dobro designs. Newton concurs, adding that two NIOMA amps he has examined bore the names of different L.A.-based manufacturers – one was by Musical Electronics Inc., the other by Western States Wholesale Musical Corporation. Both are three-tube “shoebox” amps with one input jack and an on/off/Volume knob along with an 80 rectifier tube, a 6N7, 6V6, and a 6″ field coil speaker.
It’s also possible these NIOMA instruments were constructed by L.A.-based Dickerson Musical Instrument Manufacturing Company, which had been wholesaling electric lap steels and matching amplifiers to various guitar schools since at least 1939 – and some of those were clad in a very similar pearly plastic, with one model sharing an angular top profile. Of notable interest is the fact a guitar identical to this except for an additional Tone control knob was produced under the GEB brand (which was likely run by NIOMA stockholder W.C. Gebs), and Newton has suggested these guitars (and amps) were ordered through GEB.
(LEFT) 1930s NIOMA Resophonic Guitar and peghead. (RIGHT) NIOMA lap steel. ’30 NIOMA resophonic courtesy of Frank Ford. Nioma lap steel image courtesy of Lynn Wheelwright.
End of an Era
In 1935, NIOMA’s general manager, J.H. Ryan, offered a bit of hope about the economy’s negative effects on people, telling the Seattle Daily Times, “There is no better harbinger of deepening optimism than this increasing return to the cultural side of life by expenditure for these finer things.” And, as the economy improved, NIOMA continued expanding. The company began offering scholarships, holding composition contests, and even forged an affiliation with the national non-profit Junior Musicians of America.
By 1940, NIOMA had begun referring to its Los Angeles branch as the “main school,” and the following year, the Seattle shop moved to 4719 University Way. The NIOMA era likely saw its crowning achievement in ’48, when 200 Seattle students traveled to L.A., where they joined thousands of other young musicians in a mass concert at the Hollywood Bowl, which was broadcast nationally via radio on August 15. In 1951, Seattle’s NIOMA moved again, to 4224 University Way, and then downtown, to 1001-5 New World Life Building, in ’52.
By then, America was experiencing a whole new post-war dawn. The Hawaiian and exotica music fads of recent times were fading, while country/Western music and rock and roll were about to make huge inroads with the record-buying hordes, and public schools began ramping up their music-education programs. In December of ’52, the National Institute of Music and Arts’ directors and stockholders met in Los Angeles, and President A.W Ryan, Vice-President Rose McNeil Stromberg, Secretary M.M. Strnad, and various shareholders (J.H. Ryan, W.C. Gebs, and Wilbur Zundel) all signed a document that effectively dissolved NIOMA after a generation of local guitarists (and other players) were educated and offered an opportunity to gain stage experience.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Just three of the many Chet Atkins album covers that featured Gretsch guitars.
Consider American guitar manufacturers that have been in business during the last 100 years and the different instruments they’ve produced. Only a handful have become cultural icons – given no information except “Les Paul,” “Stratocaster,” “Telecaster,” and “White Falcon,” even non-players can identify them as guitars. It’s not uncommon to hear “Telecaster? That’s a Fender guitar isn’t it?” Many non-players also identify certain artists with specific instruments, and some can even name specific artists and song combinations that featured a particular instrument.
While the Les Paul, Stratocaster, Telecaster, and White Falcon are clearly in the first echelon of cultural icons, Gretsch’s Country Gentleman is ensconced at the upper end of the second echelon, due largely to the impact of Chet Atkins and George Harrison, two of its most-celebrated players.
A 1960s Gretsch Country Gentleman.
The Chet Atkins Country Gentleman (the model’s official name) had at least two distinct incarnations (and several variations) during its long life span: originally as a single cutaway model and later as a double cutaway version. The development of the original single-cutaway model probably began in late 1956/early ’57, years which saw competition in the electric guitar market really begin to escalate. Gretsch and Gibson were pursuing very similar design/development paths during this time period. The parallels and timing are quite intriguing. Both companies were working steadily on what they perceived to be the next generation of electric guitars semi-solid with a much thinner body and electronics that didn’t hum. Gibson was developing its legendary humbucking pickup, and the ES-335 – and Gretsch was working on its humbucking pickup, the Filter’Tron, and what was to become the Country Gentleman model.
Grestch’s earliest forays into this new generation of guitars were shaped by artist/endorser/guitar superstar Chet Atkins who had experienced some noise problems with the DeArmond pickups used on his Chet Atkins Hollow Body Model 6120 and Chet Atkins Solid Body Model 6121. Chet was a “no frills” guy, and while delighted to have an endorsement deal, he wasn’t completely enamored with the “flashiness” of his 6120 and 6121. He preferred a high-end, no nonsense instrument with quality design and construction rather than making a visual statement. He was also interested in increasing an instrument’s sustain and thus was a proponent of solid construction – from the nut to the end pin. He made several recommendations to achieve this (including using a metal nut and bridge) and even suggested that having a closed body might make the instrument sustain more. The earliest version of Chet’s vision/philosophy was produced in mid 1957 and has come to be known by Gretsch aficionados as the “White Gentleman” (appropriately named for its white colored top). Bearing no official name, just a lable affixed to the bottom of the pickguard with the model number 6122, these instruments appear to be Country Gent prototypes. And very few were produced. Three or four have surfaced and all of them have serial numbers in the 23000 range. It’s clear from examining these “White Gents” that Gretsch was developing one of the earliest semi-solid, thin body electric guitars.
The Country Gentleman (numerically designated in Gretsch catalogs as Model PX6122) made its official debut in late 1957, as a 1958 model. While the name “Country Gentleman” could aptly describe Chet Atkins himself, it’s more likely in reference to a song of the same name that Chet originally recorded in 1953. As a high-end model (it was the top of the line in the Chet Atkins series), it was produced in limited numbers. And given the $500 price tage, a substantial sum of money in 1958, it sold in limited numbers (in Gretsch’s electric line, only the White Falcon was more expensive). Produced as a single cutaway from model year 1958 through model year 1961, there’s a simple understated elegance to this version of the Gent. Sporting a closed 17” wide “electrotone” body (with solid bracing and simulated f-holes), Gretsch’s new humbucking pickup (the Ray Butts-designed Filter’Tron), and its trademark metal nameplate on the headstock, the Gent was fairly conservative in its appearance. Its walnut/mahogany stained finish was quite a contrast to the rest of the Grestch line which featured wild colors like Oriental Red, Bordeaux Burgundy, Cadillac Green, Lotus Ivory, Bamboo Yellow, Copper Mist, Spotlight Sparkle silver, Smoke Green, Jaguar Tan, and Amber Red/Orange. From the sophisticated Art-Deco stairstep Grover Imperial tuners, to the ebony fingerboard with the neo-classical position markers, to the exquisitely figured curly maple used to construct many Gents from this period, it’s clear that this is a very fine, high-end instrument. Just look at our beautiful examples from 1959, 1960, and ’61.
By ’61, Gretsch had decided to revamp its line of electric guitars. The single biggest change was the decision to phase out the single cutaway construction in favor or a double cutaway design. The Country Gentleman made this transition in late 1961. Other significant changes included a snap-on back pad for more comfortable playing, and the addition of two felt “string mutes” (one for the bass strings and one for the treble strings) that could be raised or lowered by dialing up the appropriate knob. Still a high quality instrument, the Gent retained the Grover Imperial tuners, dual Filter’Tron picups, and metal nameplate. As with the single cutaway Gent, many of these early double cuts continued to feature beautifully figured maple tops.
A 1962 Gretsch Country Gentleman.
In Feburary 1964 the Beatles visited America for the first time. Their appearance on the “Ed Sullivan Show” marked the beginning of the “British Invasion” and is touted as “the day popular music in America was changed forever.” By this time George Harrison had been a Gretsch player for several years (his first quality American electric guitar was a Duo Jet) and when he appeared on the Sullivan show playing a 1963 Country Gentleman (with a very dark mahogany stained finish that on television looked black), this marked the beginning of the Country Gent’s rapid rise to the role of cultural icon. It also marked the beginning of a huge increase in the production of the Country Gent and of Gretsch guitars in general. If Gretsch had a rough equivalent to Fender’s Stratocaster in terms of production numbers/volume, the “post Sullivan appearance” 6122 was it. Gretsch sold thousands of Country Gents based on George Harrison’s unofficial “endorsement.” Gretsch couldn’t produce them fast enough and, for quite a while, demand far exceeded supply. Today, even though the single-cutaway Gents are much harder to come by, the ’63 version, with stair-step tuners and “flip-up” string mutes with red felt pads, may well be the most sought-after by collectors.
Like most of Gretsch’s other instruments, the double-cutaway version of the Country Gent went through many changes in its production life, including different pickup configurations, truss-rod systems, tuners, mutes, control knobs, and closed/open f-shaped sound holes (our example from ’67 has a single string mute for all six strings and large button Grover tuners.) There were very few 12-string versions produced, quite possibly only one or two.
This article originally appeared in VG Classics #02 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Los Lonely Boys’ new album, Revelation, draws from several influences while retaining the band’s Texas/Mexican identity. Collaborating with a group of top-tier tunesmiths, Revelation weaves pop, reggae, soul, and conjunto influences. It follows guitarist Henry Garza’s recovery from a violent fall from the concert stage. After a stretch in the hospital, he’s excited about getting busy on the guitar. 
One of the most innovative companies of the pre-World-War-II era, National found out quickly that innovation was a double-edged sword. Just as their resonator guitars of the late 1920s made the acoustic Hawaiian guitars of Hermann Weissenborn obsolete, electric guitars of the mid 1930s – some of them made of National’s own making – threatened to deal a similar fate to National’s resonator guitars within a decade of their introduction.
Along with the Hawaiian Silvo, National offered a metalbody tenor guitar and a metalbody mandolin fitted with the Silvo control plate. Both were priced same as the Hawaiian, $60. Curiously, National did not offer a standard six-string Spanish-neck Silvo.
