Technically this early-1961 is an SG Special, but for all practical purposes it’s still a Les Paul. Photo: Billy Mitchell, courtesy Gruhn Guitars. Instrument courtesy Gil Southworth
Gibson’s Les Paul Special was the last of the original Les Paul “family” of guitars introduced, and it was the first to lose the Les Paul name. But that has not diminished its appeal to players and collectors.
The Les Paul was not intended to be a “family,” but the success of the goldtop Les Paul Model introduced in 1952 inspired the development of both a fancier model and a less-fancy one, which were in the prototype stage by the end of ’53. Introduced in mid ’54, the fancier Custom had the carved top of the original, while the plainer version, the Junior, was stripped not only of its ornamentation but the carved maple top cap, as well. It had a “slab” mahogany body, unbound fingerboard, dot inlays, and a decal peghead logo. To make it even more affordable, it had only a single dog-eared P-90 pickup rather than the two soapbar-covered single-coils of the original and the Custom.
The Les Paul Junior caught on, as expected, because it was less than half the price of the goldtop. But it also had an unexpected appeal to players for reasons of playability. As it turned out, not everyone liked the curvature of the top on the goldtop and the Custom (Les Paul himself was among those players who preferred a flat top), not to mention the extra weight that the maple top cap added to the goldtop and Custom. The only disadvantage to the Junior was its lack of versatility as a result of having only a single pickup.
In 1955, Gibson filled in what was becoming a gaping niche between the Junior and the goldtop with the Les Paul Special. A bound fingerboard and pearl logo placed the Special above the budget level of the Junior, although it still had dot inlays. The Special’s two pickups made it the electronic equal of the goldtop and of the Custom (although the Custom’s neck pickup was equipped with Alnico V magnets rather than the Alnico IIs of the standard P-90). The covers on the Special were soapbar-style like the higher models, rather than the dog-eared style of the Junior. Tonally, the differences between the Special, goldtop, and Custom were subtle if not imperceptible. The carved tops of the goldtop and Custom were of maple and mahogany, respectively, and they provided slightly more mass, which could have a minute effect on sustain. The Custom’s ebony fingerboard also made for a stiffer neck (with increased sustain) than rosewood-fingerboard necks of the Special and goldtop. The Custom’s Tune-O-Matic bridge offset those sustain-enhancing features by allowing the strings to move more across the saddles than the “wraparound” stud-mounted bridge-tailpiece of the goldtop and Special.
Like the higher models in the Les Paul line, the Special had its own special finish… almost. It actually shared a finish with the Les Paul TV model that had been introduced at the end of ’54. Gibson called it “limed mahogany” (or occasionally “natural” or “limed oak”) and it varied through the years, ranging from a whitewashed look to an almost opaque yellow finish. The “TV model” was so-named presumably because it matched the popular finishes on TV cabinets and furniture of the day, or else because it would stand out when seen on black-and-white TV telecasts, and the “TV” designation became so closely associated with the finish that it became commonly known as TV Yellow.
The Special occupied the same place in sales as it did in the model line – between the Junior and goldtop. In 1956, the Special’s first full year of production, Gibson shipped 3,129 Juniors, 1,452 Specials and 598 goldtops. Sales of Specials actually increased in 1957, although the other models had started to slip, and the Special would soon follow.
While the original Special was worthy of being grouped with the upper models, changes in 1955 and ’57 drew a clear line of delineation straight down the middle of the Les Paul family, with the goldtop and Custom on one side and the Special and Junior on the other. The first of those changes was the Tune-O-Matic bridge. The Custom had it from its introduction, the goldtop got it in late ’55, but the Special never did. Still, the pickups kept the Special in the same league with the higher models – until ’57. The double-coil humbucking pickup, invented and patented by Gibson engineer Seth Lover, represented the first major improvement in pickup design since Ro-Pat-In (soon to be known as Rickenbacker) introduced the modern magnetic pickup in 1932. In ’57, Gibson began putting humbuckers on all of its high-end electrics, such as the Super 400CES, the L-5CES, the Byrdland, the ES-5, and even the midline ES-175. The Les Paul Model got humbuckers, and the Les Paul Custom got three of them, but the Les Paul Special was left behind with its P-90s.
Despite the upgrade to humbuckers on higher-priced Les Pauls, sales for all four models were dropping steadily. In mid 1958, the Junior got a makeover with a double-cutaway body, along with an optional Cherry Red stain finish that resulted in almost double the sales figures. In ’59, the Special got the same treatment with the same results; shipments jumped from 958 in ’58 to 1,821 in ’59. Then, in late ’59, for no apparent reason, the Les Paul Special became the SG Special. For all practical purposes it was the same guitar, with the same double-cutaway body and the same features except for the lack of the “Les Paul” silkscreen on the peghead and a slightly different pickguard.
The Special designation lived on, of course, through the change to the SG body shape in early 1961, and continued to hold the same place in the SG family as it had in the Les Paul family. (The concept of a four-member model family carried over to the Firebirds of 1963, where the Firebird III was the equivalent of the Special.) The Special’s two P-90 pickups offered an alternative to humbuckers that was preferred by such influential guitarists as Carlos Santana (who played an SG Special as well as a Les Paul Special) and Pete Townshend (who played an SG Special before switching to Les Paul Deluxes).
When the Les Pauls came back in the 1970s, the Special proved more popular than the Junior. In fact, the Junior was nowhere to be seen until 1987, while the Special reappeared as early as 1972 in a single-cutaway version, one of which became the main axe of reggae legend Bob Marley. The double-cutaway version became a separate model when it was reintroduced in ’76 as the Les Paul Special Double Cutaway. In the last two decades, due in part to the presence of humbuckers on some models, the Special has dominated the Junior. (Don’t be confused by such names as Junior II or Junior Special, which were derived from the fact that Gibson’s model coding system treats the Special as a two-pickup Junior.) Proof of the Les Paul Special’s continuing appeal lies in today’s Custom Shop line, where Special reissues are offered in single-cut and double-cut versions.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s June 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Zemaitis Greco GZ-200DF Price: $3,500 Contact: Zemaitis International 2-11-5 Kaji-cho Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan 101-0044 Phone: 81-52-953-9351 www.zemaitis.net.
Looking to score one of those legendary guitars made by the late British luthier Tony Zemaitis? Yeah, so are we. But given that Tony’s work today occupies its own unique space in the “axe strata,” chances are it won’t happen for any of us anytime soon.
But that doesn’t mean you can’t get close – real close, in fact. Because although Tony is no longer with us, his spirit most definitely is, in the form of Zemaitis Japan, the company that bought the Zemaitis name after Tony’s passing and has since proven beyond redoubt its commitment to making high-quality guitars that offer the same unique character as the original (see our January ’05 review of the Zemaitis S22 metal-top).
We recently took a turn on the company’s GZ-3200DF. Built by Greco, the established builder in Japan that earned a reputation long ago for its top-quality guitars (early on, they specialized in copies of Gibson and Fender designs), these axes offer players a shot at a Z-branded guitar at a price point significantly lower than the $6,000 (or more) it’ll take to get into the top-tier Zemaitis models, and way below the tens of thousands it’ll take to score a vintage example.
The GZ-3200DF’s one-piece mahogany body recalls the classic design of the Fender Telecaster, but with unmistakable Zemaitis flare, and its one-piece mahogany neck is appointed with a beautifully grained ebony fingerboard inlaid with mother-of-pearl dots and diamond shapes that exhibit no gaps or filler. The polished frets fit with near perfection and boast round, smooth ends. The neck is a wide C shape with a 25″ scale. The bone nut is nicely fitted, and the Schaller M6 tuners need no introduction.
Cosmetically, the GZ-3200DF is a striking instrument, with a headstock sporting a silver-plated truss rod cover and diamond logo overlay. The black finish is immaculate, and the brushed aluminum disc and tailpiece are tastefully engraved in the Zemaitis tradition. The bridge and pickup selector plate are made of the company’s Duralumin alloy, and the guitar’s three DiMarzio DP103 PAF humbuckers have nickel-plated covers. Controls include a master volume and three tone pots, along with a five-way pickup selector. The electronic components are all high-quality.
Playability on our test GZ-3200DF was fantastic. We set the action to our taste – very low – and string-bending was insanely smooth, thanks in no small part to the highly polished frets. And at 8 pounds, the 3200DF is light enough so it won’t wear on you over the course of an evening gig.
To test the GZ-3200’s tones, we used an all-tube Peavey Valve King head with matching 4×12″ cab, and a Fender Blues Deluxe reissue.
We first plugged into the Valve King set for high-gain output. The GZ-3200DF’s bridge-position DiMarzio sounded very fat and round, with low-mid response to spare and big, fat bottom, complemented by crisp, snappy high-end. The bridge/middle position offered more low-end, with less sparkle that made for an overall darker, funky blues tone you don’t hear on many guitars. The sparkle returned to the mix when we moved the selector to the middle position; a mid-position pickup is a very different animal compared to running neck and bridge pickups simultaneously. Going to the middle/neck position again cut high-frequency response while boosting lows.
The GZ-3200DF’s 24-fret neck pushes its neck pickup closer to the bridge than most guitars, further contributing unique tone. The guitar’s overall sustain is tremendous, and pickup output is balanced, with even tonal response across frequencies.
Plugged into the Blues Deluxe set to clean with slight breakup, the bridge-position pickup again offered nice low-end response with that trademark PAF spit and sparkle. In the bridge/middle position, it got notably darker, and in the middle, sparkle and purity were back in play. The middle/neck position again proved much more dark, with less sparkle. The neck position was pure and PAF-flavored, with big bottom and nice sparkle.
The GZ-3200DF plays and sounds amazing and offers fantastic versatility, especially for the rock/blues player. Its workmanship is absolutely top-notch, and though it is not one of Zemaitis’ higher-end instruments, it’s a model of fit, finish, and tone, and compares favorably with anything in its price range. But does the GZ-3200DF live up to the Zemaitis name? Shadoobee, you betcha!
This article originally appeared in VG‘s November 2006 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The history of the musical instrument business is full of stories, from the drab to the miraculous. Some bean counters will busily push their way to the forefront, grabbing for a piece of history, while others quietly create. Seth Lover peers out at me from the doorway of his humble Southern California ranch house looking for all the world like an elf dressed in worn work clothes. Welcoming me inside as if he’d known me all his life, I enter a home that is rooted as firmly in the past as in the present. The charming Mrs. Lover joined us for our afternoon together, occasionally chiming in from time to time. Electronics manuals and instruments are in every corner, and the inner sanctum, Seth’s crowded two-car garage, is a wonderland of old inventions never marketed, examples of his prodigious career spanning five decades, and enough parts inventory to start a musical instrument company.
A noted creator, Seth Lover’s achievements include numerous amplifiers and circuits, but none have been so highly recognized as his humbucking pickup, which became the Patent Applied For (P.A.F.) humbucker. The following is excerpted from an interview with Seth Lover conducted by VG‘s Stephen Patt in 1996. At the time, Lover was working with pickup designer Seymour Duncan on the SH-55 humbucker, more commonly known as the Seth Lover Model. Lover passed away on January 31, 1997.
Vintage Guitar: Who got you started on the path of electronics? Seth Lover: I was born in Kalamazoo, Michigan, on January 1st, 1910. This year, I’ll be 86 years old. In the early 1920s, a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania began helping me with electronics projects. I was living with my grandparents at the time, and we used to get the Philadelphia newspaper; the radio section showed how to build different circuits. I guess my first project was a one-tube radio, which worked pretty well. My grandparents had died in the 1920s, and I decided to join the Army. Oh, and in between I lied about my age at 17, worked for the railroad, got laid off, and worked for several others. In the Army, I was assigned to Battery C of the 16th Field Artillery, Grey Horse Battery in Fort Meyer, Virginia. We all had grey horses, which sort of explains the name.
While there I was working around electronics, and when I hit the end of my term in 1931, took a radio course from a Washington, D.C. company. This was actually my second course – the first course was in 1925 while I was working on a farm. That was from the Radio Association of America, and they were supposed to send parts for me to assemble a radio. Instead they sent one that was already built! They had bought it from Montgomery Wards! I did buy batteries, and it worked pretty good. Radios weren’t commonplace, and we liked to listen to ball games, especially the World Series.
How did your first radio business come about?
In 1930, with my second course under my belt I went into business in Kalamazoo. I was repairing radios and the like at the Butler Battery Shop. We’d have to recharge batteries, repair radios, and install ’em. But we moved when Butler died, and started our own shop at 465 Academy in Kalamazoo. Eddy Smith, an orchestra leader who played out at Long Lake, was a good customer. I used to build amplifiers for them to use. The poor guitar player would be playing next to the piano, and you could see him moving his hands, but for the life of me you couldn’t hear him play one note! If they let him get close to the microphone he could be amplified and heard. So I worked up there, and in 1935 I went to work for M and T Battery Company, doing the same thing, repairing and installing radios. But then in 1941 Walt Fuller got ahold of me and wanted me to come to work for Gibson. I began working with them full time. They were buying amps from a Chicago company, putting out the EH-125, the 150, and the 185. We’d plug in the tubes and test ’em, and if they worked, well fine, but if not, why I’d have to fix em up. I was a troubleshooter. And when the World War II came along, I joined up again.
In what capacity was that?
They offered me a Second Class Radioman rating, and I ended up in the Navy. I was sent to “Neurotic Heights”, in Connecticut. Then I was sent out to Treasure Island near San Francisco, to radio electronics school for a couple months, and in August I received my First Class rating. I was sent to teach electronics near Washington, DC, and most of my time during the war was spent teaching.
In 1944 it was decided that I had to go to sea, so after a refresher course in Maryland for a month, I was ready. We were allowed to pick a ship, and I got the USS Columbus, which was being built in Quincy, Massachusetts. I was sent up there, and began checking installations and spare parts, and a little later we were sent out to sea. Well, about 500 miles out the drive shaft broke, and we had to turn around. In order to get at the thing, they had to cut a hole through all the decks. Well, before they got the darn thing fixed the war was over! (warm laughter from Mr. and Mrs. Lover). I had enough points to get out, but they said I had to sail down to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. I repaired a few transmitters down there, and then came back in October, and was discharged.
Did you immediately resume your electronics work?
Yep, I went back to work for Gibson, and stayed with them for a couple years until the Navy built a training station in Michigan. With my Chief’s rating, I was a good prospect for them, and was asked to work for them for $5,000 per year, which was a lot of money back then. Gibson was only paying me $3,000, so I went back to the Navy. A few years later, they wanted to transfer me to Minnesota. Ted McCarty asked me to build him a special kind of pickup, which I did by hand, and I’ve probably got the original out in the shed somewhere… He decided that Gibson could afford to pay me what I had been getting in the Navy, so I was back with Gibson again! That was in 1952.
What were some of your earlier designs?
Before I’d gone into the Navy, I’d begun to design an amplifier. The tremolo circuit in typical amps “putted” along if there was too much depth. I found a way to get a tremolo without any noise, using an optical device, and Gibson was building it while I was in the Navy. So in 1952, I began designing other amp circuits. In 1955, I got the idea for this hum-bucking pickup. You see, a single coil pickup, when it got too close to an amplifier, would make a god-awful hum, and the guitar player would have to position himself just right to minimize the noise.
I had designed an amplifier, the Model 90, which had a special hum-bucking choke, and figured I could use the same concept on the pickup itself. It was quite simple, really, just two coils opposed, and they’d pick up the hum and just cancel out. I designed it into the tone circuit of the amplifier, and if you’d swing to one end it would wipe out the bass, to the other extreme it would wipe out the treble. So, the pickup was similar in concept, and it “bucked the hum”, hence the name. We made the patent application in 1955, and it took us four years to actually get the patent on that. Apparently, a number of people had done something similar. They had big U-shaped magnets taken off of speakers, and had a coil at each end. One of them even had two big coils, took the power from the amplifier, and fed it to the coils, so as to magnetize the strings and pick up the vibration.
When did your humbucker actually begin production at Gibson?
We starting building our version in 1955, even though we didn’t have a patent, and that’s when they got the “PAF” stickers to put on them. I understand that those pickups have gotten quite popular. When we finally were granted our patent, we changed the sticker to one with a patent number, but we actually printed the wrong number on the sticker, one that matched our tailpiece. This way people who sent away for copies of that patent didn’t ever get a copy of the pickup! (a low chuckle erupts). We were replacing the P-90, and there were other single coils being used, especially on steel guitars. I did make a humbucking pickup for steels that worked particularly well. The Gibson Electraharp had my pickup on it, and it was a whopper, but they didn’t build too many of them. It was quite expensive. I also had designed a special pickup that had a single-coil across all the strings, then an additional single coil for the treble strings, and a third single coil for the bass strings. There was a switch so you could add a little more treble, or a little more bass.
What prompted your shift from Gibson to their main competitor, Fender?
I stayed on with Gibson until 1967, and then had an offer from my friend Dick Evan who had also worked for Gibson in the ’60s, and was Chief Engineer. Now while I designed most of the amplifiers and pickups, I never did hold that title. I was just a designer. CBS had bought Fender, and they were kind enough to offer me a job. He sent me a ticket to come out and talk, and Fender offered me $12,000 per year. I was only getting $9,000 at Gibson, so I came out and went to work for the competition. I did design quite a bit of stuff for them, but the thing was, if the front office didn’t ask for something, you couldn’t give it away. They just weren’t interested in anything you could come up with. Why I’ve got a special guitar I designed while I was with Fender…here, let me show it to you. It’s in the closet.
(A short walk ensues, and a dusty but serviceable case reveals an odd looking Fender semi-hollow guitar with a smorgasbord of switches and pickups. After a brief search for a cord and an amplifier, loud noises begin to fill the room.)
It’s got a humbucking pickup – my own, of course – and Fender wanted to sound just like Gibson’s. Well, I didn’t feel that way about it. Since Fender had a naturally brighter sound to their pickups, I decided to make this a little different. I used CuNiFe magnets in this one, copper/nickel/iron, and it can be threaded. Al-Nickel really can’t do that, unless it’s molded. This was nothing like Gibson’s. If you look at this guitar, it has regular and “special effects” pickups. There’s a built in octave-generator, as well as the normal guitar sound. Now the second harmonic is pleasant and strong in this pickup. I also inserted an auto-wah on the second pickup, and you can vary the attack (he demonstrates at top volume with a gleeful grin on his face). When I’d worked for Gibson, I built a fuzz-wah pedal using transistors. The idea came from down in Kentucky, where this fellah had an amp that had gone all fuzzy; the plate resistor for the input tube had gone so high in value that the plate load dropped, and the tube would overload and distort. I did the same thing with these transistors, amplifying the signal to the point where it would overload and produce distortion. So here it is, and what a sound it makes! Of course, single notes were best.
What kind of response did your special effects guitar get?
Carol Kaye [noted California bassist] came down to try out this rig in a bass and loved it. Other players from Los Angeles tried the guitar and were impressed. But since Sales hadn’t thought of it, well they just weren’t interested. Now this operates off of a single C-cell, and it’ll last about three months. Gene Fields, a great steel player, now lives down in Texas. He had one of my units built into his steel, and wow, you should have heard that thing! There’s all told about 75 transistors here, and I bet if we went to some integrated circuit manufacturer now to build it, there be no size to it at all.
Fender had a rough reputation during the CBS years.
They had trouble designing solid-state amplifiers. Two things were always a problem; one, that they wouldn’t tighten the screws down enough to hold the power transistors to the heat shields, and they’d blow. Also, the soldering machine was never cleaned, and consequently there were always bad connections. Things just didn’t work. Why, I built test equipment for our production runs, and 40 of the 50 would fail! Always the same problems, so they just abandoned that venture. I did speak up about what the source of the failures was, but they didn’t want to listen.
What other involvement did you have in design, other than electronic?
I had some contributions in guitar design. I thought it was foolish to have a guitar that was round on the bottom and would always fall over if you left it propped up. I figured, make it symmetrical so it could stand up [points out a picture of the Flying V guitar]. It wasn’t a great seller back in the ’50s, but I hear they’re quite popular now. I also designed a body with a bit of a different shape. I called it the “bent beercan” model, ’cause the shape of the top and bottom of a smashed beercan never quite line up. When they brought the prototype back from Chicago, it looked odd. I thought it looked better on paper, to tell the truth. But I gave my drawings to Ted, and that’s what resulted from it.
Now let’s take a little walk into my workroom. [Winding past the kitchen we enter a dark garage suddenly illuminated by fluorescent lights, filled with a sea of parts and amplifiers.] Now this is something I liked – this is the Fender power-speaker, XFL 2000. The power amplifier was at the bottom, then there’s six ten inch speakers, and here’s the head at the top. The idea was, Fender wanted a three-channel guitar amp, one for the bass player, one for the accompaniment, and the last for the lead guitar. There’d be reverb and tremolo on the third channel only. The accompaniment would have the oil-can vibrato, and the bass had a fuzz. But anybody who had an amplifier didn’t want anybody else plugging in to his amp! It’s just human nature. But Fender thought they were building this for trios, and people would lap ’em up. Look, here’s an E-tuner built into the head! I wanted a switch added so the lead guitar could access any effect he wanted, in case some fella decided to use this all by himself. But instead, they came up with jumper cords, to bridge the channels. Nobody liked it, though.
Now, I bet you’ll like this (Lover rummages through an old cabinet, and pulls out a cloth-wrapped something). This is my PAF prototype. It has a stainless steel cover. There’s no high conductivity in stainless like copper and brass, so it worked well. When the salesmen saw this, without any adjustment screws, it was like breaking their arms. They just didn’t have anything to talk about. So, next came the punched-out holes and the adjustment screws. [Now a genuine Seymour Duncan Seth Lover humbucking pickup, model SH-55, is displayed, looking similar to a vintage PAF.] These were sent down to me from Santa Barbara, for a final check. And there pretty darn good.
Was there anything you did specifically for Epiphone?
Epiphone guitars used to have a bunch of push-button switches on their guitars, and every time you’d change settings, it’d go “clunk!” I designed a no-clunk switch, with a rocker panel and a magnet to hold the position (Lover pulls a working model from a drawer). My version was never used, but it worked awfully well. And here’s the Epiphone mini-humbucker. I changed the design so as to offset the screws and look different – maybe better in some ways – than the Gibson humbucker with its straight screws. It wasn’t quite as loud as the Gibson version, with fewer turns of the coil, and it was a bit trebly… but it did the job.
I was recently at the Seymour Duncan plant up in Santa Barbara, and had a chance to view the regular process that they use in pickup manufacture, which is very impressive. The Vice President of Marketing, Evan Skopp, and Seymour himself showed me the special area they’ve set aside for the SH-55 and the Antiquity series. There’s an aged winding machine, which allows the operator to put a little stretch into the winding, just like the originals. How did you and Seymour join forces?
After the patent ran out, Seymour started making the pickups, and he did an awfully good job, not just in appearance, but in materials and workmanship and sound. Everything, down to finest detail, was intact. We had used plain enameled #42 wire. A lot of people would use plastic-coated wire, but the results weren’t the same. We used nickel-silver on the covers originally, sometimes called German silver, again due to its low conductivity. You can’t solder stainless steel, so the nickel-silver worked better. And that’s what you see on these special Duncan-Lover pickups. It’s really faithful to the original. The SH-55 will have my stamp of approval on it, and I’ll even get a small royalty on each sale. Now, that’s something that Gibson never got around to giving me! My name doesn’t show up in too many of these history books, and maybe they didn’t value design in those days. I guess that’s why they never paid me much (a glint in his eyes signals Lover is pulling my leg). I did a lot of work, and now it seems to be getting recognized.
Now here’s an ad that Gibson ran on the 25th Anniversary of the patent for my pickup (displays a worn framed picture of a 1980 print ad for Gibson) promoting the company and recognizing how special my Gibson humbucking pickup was. There’s a signature on here saying “Seth Lover”, but it’s not mine. I contacted the company, and said, “Gee, I would have signed the ad myself if you’d asked,” and they responded, “We didn’t know you were still alive!” (laughs)
This article originally appeared in VG February 1996 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
1967 Domino #80E2 Californian Rebel. Photo by Michael Wright.
California. The Left Coast. It was probably home to North America’s earliest inhabitants, as emigrants from Asia crossed the Bering Strait and began their march toward South America.
But California figured little in much of anything else until 1848, when the folks setting up a lumber mill on John Sutter’s property near San Francisco noticed sparkly little stones in the mill-race water. The Golden State. The territory went from 3,000 non-Indians in 1847 to 100,000 plus by 1849, most working the mines, the rest working the miners. It rushed into existence overnight, without history, without government, without laws. It became a state in 1850. Fast-forward, and along came Hollywood. Then came the Hippies. So it should come as no surprise that California has a reputation for non-traditional free-thinking, and for being occasionally weird. And therefore it is no surprise that when guitarmakers wanted to name an outré guitar design, they attached an association with California, as with this 1967 Domino Californian Rebel!
Japanese-made Domino guitars were latecomers to the American guitar boom of the 1960s. Domino electric guitars debuted circa 1967, imported from Japan by Maurice Lipsky Music Company, Inc., 30 Irving Place, New York, New York 10003. Lipsky was one of those fairly large regional music distributors associated with the district around Cooper Union and was best known for his Orpheum brand guitars dating back to at least the late ’40s. Most of those were low- to middle-end guitars, many made by United Guitars in Jersey City, which also supplied many Premier guitars to Peter Sorkin, also of New York. Many Orpheums were archtop electrics, some fancy, some small-bodied plain guitars with no f-holes. Lipsky was also briefly involved with the late Italian guitarmaker and conceptual artist Wandré Pioli, who made Wandré guitars with the aluminum neck, and sold guitars to Chicago’s Don Noble, who marketed them as The Noble Guitar in 1963 or so. Wandré guitars carrying the Orpheum brand have been sighted, probably distributed out of New York by Lipsky. There is no current evidence that the Domino brand was used before the advent of the Japanese models in 1967.
When Domino guitars appeared, the line reflected two emerging trends in the evolution of Japanese guitar design. On the one hand was the growing practice of imitating popular guitar designs. In a way, you could argue that early Japanese guitars loosely modeled after the top-of-the-line Fender Jazzmaster was the first step in that trend, but by the later ’60s they were clearly going head to head with the competition. On the other hand, there was an increasing presence of an often whimsical “Japanese” identity reflected in other models.
The former conception included Fender-inspired guitars such as the Domino Olympic, Spartan, and Dawson, based on the Stratocaster, Jaguar, and Coronado, respectively. Another model was the Red Baron, clearly based on the Gibson SG. The Domino Fab One was – isn’t it obvious?! – based on the EKO Violin Bass. The Tear Drop echoed the Vox Mark series. The Domino Californian aped the Vox Phantom. Most were available in a number of pickup and vibrato configurations. Many of these were also sold as Aria guitars, so they were probably made at the same factory. Who made the Fender-style models is unknown, but it’s entirely possible that it was a young Matsumoku. The Fab One, Tear Drop, and Californian were almost certainly built by Kawai.
Then there was this #80E2 Californian Rebel, a guitar unlike any other. While it may be too much to claim this design as characteristically “Japanese,” it was certainly original and whimsical! The asymmetrical trapezoidal body of this guitar is essentially solid mahogany, with a “sound cavity” routed under the f-hole in the strange woodgrain pickguard. The top has a German-carve relief around the edges. The maple bolt-on neck is very thin for a ’60s guitar, somewhat at odds with the retro effect of the slotted headstock! What looks like body binding is actually painted on.
Electronically speaking, this is fairly typical of mid-’60s Japanese guitars. The two sliding switches change capacitors for rhythm and lead modes. These big, chunky single-coils can provide a surprisingly beefy tone, though output can vary widely on these units. If switching capacitors isn’t enough, and you really want to lay back, throw on the foam-rubber mute!
Several Californian Rebel models were offered, including the #80E1 with one pickup and the #80E3 with three. The three-pickup model was also sold in a 12-string version, and there also may have been a bass, but that’s uncertain. They may have all been finished in white, but other colors are a possibility. The pickups, hardware, and exotic shape are pretty much dead clues that this guitar, too, was built by Kawai, which purchased Teisco in January, 1967, and was soon to be responsible for producing other exotic guitars such as the Kawai Concert and Teisco May Queen.
Lipsky’s Domino line does not appear to have lasted especially long, perhaps not beyond 1968. The fabled guitar boom of the ’60s was winding down. Sales (and imports) had begun to slow in ’67, and in ’68 Valco/Kay went out of business, signaling the end of one era and the beginning of another. Looming on the horizon was the so-called “copy era” of the ’70s, of which Lipsky’s other models were the harbinger.
Domino guitars do not seem particularly plentiful on the market, and the Californian Rebel is the most desirable. In spite of the pending success of the copy strategy, the uniqueness of Domino’s Californian Rebel was also a sign of what was to come, as Japanese guitarmakers strove to inject more of a Japanese identity into select models, as seen in guitars such as the Kawai Moonsault and Ibanez Iceman that debuted circa 1975. More freewheeling freethinking that would be well worthy of identification with the state of mind that is Kaal-ee’-fornya (in Arnold-speak)!
This article originally appeared in VG’s March 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Photo courtesy George Gruhn.
Although it has never been the favorite guitar of Hawaiian players, National’s Style O, with its shining metal body and tropical imagery, stands today as one of the strongest icons for the Hawaiian music that was the foundation of the resonator guitar’s popularity in the early 1930s.
Introduced in 1930, the Style O was the endpoint of several years of rapid evolution of the resonator guitar. As a brass-bodied guitar, it occupied a unique spot between National’s inexpensive single-cone steelbodies and the high-end “German silver” tri-cone models (though there were a few single-cone models with German silver bodies). It offered plenty of visual flash at just over half the cost of the cheapest National tri-cone, and its brass body gave it a sound all its own.
National introduced the resonator guitar to the world in 1927, and it reflected the opulence of the Jazz Age, with not just one, but three resonator cones in a body of shining nickel-plated “German silver” (a.k.a. “white brass,” an alloy of copper and zinc – the basic elements of brass – with nickel added). Style 1 was plain, and Styles 2, 3, and 4 sported progressively fancier engraved floral patterns. They produced a sweet tone and higher volume than wood-body guitars, and with the endorsement of Sol Hoopii, the biggest Hawaiian guitarist of the day, they quickly made obsolete the hollow-neck Hawaiian guitars of Weissenborn as well as the modified conventional-style Hawaiians (with raised nut and straight saddle) of Martin and other makers.
The resonator guitar was destined for a short period in the spotlight, as Hawaiian players would abandon acoustic guitars of all types by the mid 1930s in favor of electrics (with Hoopii again leading the exodus). National’s tri-cone was so well-designed – functionally and cosmetically – that it might have remained the only style of resonator guitar through the entire period, had there not been a rift among the owners of National. John Dopyera, a founding partner and the creative force behind the tri-cone design, left National and formed the Dobro company, which introduced a single-cone woodbody resonator guitar in 1928. With a simpler design and less expensive material (plywood), Dobro undercut the price of the cheapest National by almost 65 percent – $45 versus $125.
Before the year was out, National responded with its own single-cone woodbody, the Triolian. While Dobro continued to primarily make woodbodied guitars, National moved forward with more metalbodies. In 1929, the Triolian was changed to a metal body, and a year later a less-expensive version, the Duolian, appeared. Unlike the German silver tri-cones, these single-cone models had bodies of steel.
The Triolian and Duolian competed with Dobro’s lower-priced models, but there was still a vast middle-ground, in pricing as well as sound quality, between the $45 Triolian and the $125 Style 1 tri-cone.
That’s where the Style O fit in…
Debuting in 1930 at a price of $65, the first Style O had a nickel-plated steel body, but it was quickly changed to brass. The brass body combined with the single cone made a subtle but significant difference in tone, reaching a nice compromise between the harsh, cutting sound of the Triolian/Duolian and the sweet, flowing sound of the tri-cones.
Despite the fact that most of the players who bought Nationals were Hawaiian-style guitarists, National had only briefly acknowledged Hawaiian music on the woodbody Triolians, with decals of an island volcano on the front and a hula dancer on the back. Style O corrected that slight – visually, at least – with images of palm trees on the front and a canoe in a lagoon on the back. Ironically, this most-Hawaiian themed model in the National line was not offered in a Hawaiian version, with a square wooden neck, until 1933.
The Hawaiian scenes were etched (sandblasted) into the Style O’s body, rather than engraved like the tri-cones, which gave it a more ethereal quality – coming and going depending on the angle to a light source. It also made it more affordable.
Evidence of the Style O’s popularity lies in the constant tweaking of the imagery as, presumably, the sandblasting templates wore out. Bob Brozman, in The History and Artistry of National Resonator Instruments, details five variations on the original body size (designed for 12-fret necks) and two more after the change in late 1934 to 14-fret necks. Palm trees come and go and move from one side to the other. Clouds begin to fade, as do the stars in the sky. Ripples in the lagoon change. The canoe (along with the entire image) reverses direction.
And that’s just the imagery. Other specs changed constantly, too. The “sieve hole” coverplate grew four radiating ribs in ’32 and then began switching to a “diamonds and arrows” pattern around ’35. The f-holes in the upper body were straight-cut initially, but beginning in ’33 the edges were rolled for a smoother appearance. The fingerboard went from “ebonized” (dyed black) maple to real ebony in ’36. The cosmetic makeover continued in ’37, when parallelogram fretboard inlays replaced pearl dots and the headstock received an ebonoid (black celluloid) veneer.
The occasional square-neck Style O turns up, but the great majority were round-necks. That’s not surprising, considering that 1) Hawaiian players started switching to electrics as soon as soon as electrics were available, and 2) National’s single-cone models were not as well-suited for Hawaiian music as the sweeter-toned tri-cones (or for that matter, the woodbody Dobros). Consequently, it was standard-style guitarists – particularly bluesmen who had no relationship whatsoever to Hawaiian music – who chose a Style O.
Price, as always, was an issue, and the typical musician struggling through the Depression in the early ’30s could barely afford a Duolian, at $37.50. Nevertheless, the number of Style O guitars still around today indicates that many musicians thought the flash and sound of the Style O was well worth the $65 price tag. Exactly how many is not known, but serial numbers suggest well over 5,000. All of the 12-fret models and the early 14-fret models have numbers with an S prefix, and the only other Nationals with an S prefix are the rare round-neck tri-cones; the S-prefix numbers go as high as 6205. Later Style O numbers, with no prefix, are probably mixed in with other models, but they go into the 7000 range.
Style O’s can be seen in photos of bluesmen Son House and Bukka White but the model’s greatest exposure came in 1985, when the British rock band Dire Straits released Brothers in Arms. The album cover pictured nothing but a National Style O floating in the sky. The record went to Number 1 on the strength of the single “Money For Nothing,” and suddenly, vintage dealers were putting a premium on the 14-fret version of the Style O with diamond-and-arrows coverplate – previously not as desirable as a 12-fret version, but now famous as the “Dire Straits model.”
Today, the National Style O still has a unique appeal. It’s not as elegant as a tri-cone, not as workmanlike as a Duolian. But for the ultimate combination of tone, volume, versatility, aesthetics, and affordability, the Style O may well be National’s greatest achievement.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s May 2006 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Ten years into what has become a stellar career, when Brad Paisley hits your town to play a show these days, it’s with nine semi tractor-trailer rigs and a fleet of buses. His five studio albums have all reached multi-platinum status and he has volleyed 12 songs into the #1 position on the country charts.
In a rare position as both hitmaker and, in the eyes of some, guardian of the latest neotraditionalist wave of country-music artists, Paisley says his new album, Play, serves a purpose beyond garnering hits. “I want it to be a pallet cleanser for my fans,” he said.
Country artists long ago left instrumental music in the scrap heap, but Paisley wants to revive it. Anything but your run-of-the-mill country mega-star album, the 15-track disc includes just four songs with vocals. And what’s more, in fulfilling the album’s mostly-instrumental mission, Paisley doesn’t simply steal licks from Chet Atkins and Albert Lee. Instead, influences surface ranging from Eric Johnson to Tal Farlow and Johnny Smith to Robben Ford – blues, jazz, bluegrass, surf, and instrumental rock – on Paisley’s most diverse record to date.
But of course, it wouldn’t be a Brad Paisley record without a large dose of country. In his nod to his Telecaster heroes, the listener gets the chance to hear what has to be the greatest gathering of Tele players in history. The tribute, “Cluster Pluck,” has James Burton, Albert Lee, Vince Gill, John Jorgenson, Redd Volkaert, Steve Wariner, Brent Mason, and Paisely taking turns. “Huckleberry Jam” is named after his son, William Huckleberry Paisley, born in 2007, while “Kim” is written for Huck’s mom (and Brad’s wife), actress Kimberly Williams-Paisley. His late mentor, Buck Owens, appears on the duet “Come On In,” showing he was no slouch on mandolin or dobro. And currently racing up the charts is his duet with fellow country git-slinger Keith Urban. “Start A Band,” tells the story of two young players getting advice on how to be cool. To paraphrase, get a guitar and some buddies, and start a band. The tune features humorous musical quotes from high-profile guitar gods Eric Clapton and Slash.
Paisley admits Play is a “selfish record,” but adds, “Hopefully, it makes some guitar players happy besides me.”
Have you been wanting to make this album for awhile?
I don’t know… It’s not like I’ve always dreamed of doing an instrumental album. I have been happy doing my normal country albums and still love doing those, really, the most. That’s what I got into this for – to write, play, sing – and do it on a record. But I had such a good time making my Christmas album last year – you don’t worry about how many units you’ll sell, you don’t worry about singles, and it’s not the kind of project that has to carry you through a couple years of your career. There’s something refreshing about that, and I think the idea for this came about due to that creative freedom I felt on the Christmas record. With an instrumental album, the expectations are not as high.
It’s also about time span; a regular country album for someone in my position is expected to carry you through an entire tour and several singles on the radio. In the best-case scenario, an instrumental album is more of a side project or labor of love. Those who enjoy it will get it, and then we’ll be on to the next album. It is a statement I wanted to make, and a creative process that really came about because of the Christmas record; we had a ball making that and we had a ball making this, and that’s what I was hoping it would be. A project where I would write the songs, put them on a CD and let people eventually buy it.
Was there an element of feeling you had something to prove, or was it more of being in a place in your career where you could?
I don’t know that I felt like I had anything to prove, because I don’t know that this album proves anything. There’s a lot of guitar playing on my regular albums and this album has more because there’s very little singing. But as far as risk taken, I don’t feel there were many risks that I don’t normally take. There are certainly styles of music that I can’t cover as convincingly or appropriately on my regular albums. I’m someone who limits myself on a regular record, making sure the things on it belong on the shelf labeled “country” in a music store. On this album I didn’t have those restrictions and we went heavily in other directions, playing stuff people haven’t ever heard me do.
On the other hand, in Tampa, a guy came up after a show and told me he had no idea I could play like that. And I’m thinking, “After almost 10 years of having a single on the charts at any given time, and I don’t know how many performances and albums – how long does it take to get people to realize that?” Maybe this will help connect the dots in a way no regular album can.
Country music tends to go in phases where Tele playing is more in-vogue, then out. Do you think Tele is out of favor right now?
That is certainly the case with a lot of what’s on the radio. Even my friends who are session players in Nashville will tell you there was a time in the late 1980s and early ’90s when you could show up to a gig and if you had a Tele with a Strat pickup in the middle you could pretty much cover anything they needed. In the early ’90s, Brent Mason could just show up with his Tele and have everything he’d need, tone-wise, though I’m sure he brought more guitars to the gig.
Does the current environment make you more focused on the Tele sound on your records?
Maybe. My ’68 Tele certainly started me on this path. It has a very unique sound. When we recorded the duet with Keith Urban, I originally was looking at using a ’52 or a new Crook. But my producer, Frank, asked that I use the Pink Paisley so I’d sound as much like me as possible. Whenever I play a duet, he asks that I use that guitar to make it as easy as possible for people to identify my playing.
Would you agree the definitive Brad Paisley sound is the ’68 Tele, an Aqua Puss delay, and your ’62 Vox Top Boost AC 30?
Yes. Until now, everything we’ve done have been attempts to improve or modify that sound. I don’t know if you can really improve on that, though, because it’s a great amp, great guitar, and a great pedal!
In regard to tone, do you ever feel you’re reaching new heights – or chasing your tail?
Well, that’s interesting. What really changes things is mics and mic placement. Sometimes I’ll hear, “That’s the best tone you’ve gotten,” or better yet, “I sure liked the tone you got better on your last record.” In many cases they’re talking about the exact same signal path. The difference is the way it was recorded, and the room we were in. So much of it is that.
When it comes to guitar sounds, the most important thing is the amp. The second most important is mic placement. The third is the guitar. You’ve got to have a great amp if you want to have a great sound, though mic’ing is almost equally important. You can put a bad mic on a great amp, and it’s not going to sound good, even if you also have a fantastic guitar. And of course you can’t “mic away” bad tone; a bad amp is going to sound like a bad amp.
But all of these are superseded by touch. The other guitar player in my band, Gary Hooker, has a completely different touch. If he picks up one of my guitars, it’s going to sound like Gary – it’s not going to sound anything like me. That’s what is so wonderful about players like Mark Knopfler, Chet Atkins, and John Jorgenson. It’s very interesting, how touch affects tone.
1) Paisley’s road amps include a Dr. Z Stingray (on case), and other tone monsters like this (center stack, top to bottom) Trainwreck Liverpool 30, and two Z Wrecks, by Dr. Z, a.k.a. Mike Zaite, (right, from top) two Bruno Underground 30s, and a Bruno Cowtipper. 2) Brad Paisley’s wall of Dr. Z prop combos. His mic’d stage cabs are loaded with a variety of Celestion speakers. 3) Paisley’s primary Dr. Z Stingray amp. 4) The stompboxes in Paisley’s rig include (top row, from left) a Maxon AD999 Analog Delay, Way Huge Aqua Puss, a Voodoo Labs Pedal Power II. In the bottom (from left) are a Keeley Boss DD3 digital delay, Boss DD2 digital delay, Keeley-modded Ibanez Tube Screamer 808, Hermida Zen Drive, and a Visual Sounds Route 808. 5) The rackmount gear in Paisley’s rig includes a Furman Conditioner, Shure UR4D wireless receiver, Samson Synth 6 wireless (backup), Line 6 Filter Pro effects modeler, Line 6 Echo Pro delay modeler, Line 6 Mod Pro effects unit, Shure wireless mixer, Digital Music GCX switcher, Ebtech Hum Eliminator, and a Digital Music GCX switcher.
Tell us about some of the incredible amps you’ve been using?
I never stop adding amps to my collection, and it’s certainly past the point of being excessive…
How many do you own?
I’m not even sure. We have at least 10 heads out on the road, and I have at least 10 more at home. That doesn’t include amps I have lying around, like that little Vox [points to the amp] or the Fender that James Burton gave me. And that’s also not including the amps in my music room, or those I’ve loaned out. Steve Wariner has one of my Dr. Z Maz 18s.
Live, I am still using a Z-Wreck by Dr. Z. It’s a great AC30-type amp based on the Trainwreck Liverpool 30. Dr. Z and Ken Fischer collaborated on it, and I can’t confirm this, but I believe it was the last amp Ken worked on. It’s a beautiful piece. I’ve also been using a Tony Bruno Cowtipper, which is based on a blackface Fender Twin but with a better-sounding reverb circuit. It’s a very clean amp I use for certain patches live in conjunction with a Vox-style amp. He also makes a great Vox-style amp called the Underground 30, which in my opinion is one of the great amps of our time. He modified one for me to have an old-style Vox transformer, and I have what you’d call a “standard” Underground 30. But that’s a bit of a misnomer in that there is really no such thing as a standard model for him. He tweaks each amp for the customer. I also have a Fender Vibro-King that I love that sometimes takes the place of the Cowtipper. [Mike Zaite at Dr. Z] is making a couple of interesting things, like the Evan, which is his take on a Fender-type amp. And then there’s my Trainwreck Liverpool 30 I took off the road for a while, even though it’s pampered out there – it’s treated basically like a person. It travels on a padded bunk on the bus! I pulled it out because I missed it. I use it for the distorted sounds live on songs like “She’s Everything,” and the high-gain stuff, plus the B.B. King duet we do live. It makes such a great blues amp because it’s so responsive. It’s hard to live without.
Do you use these same amps in the studio?
Yes, to a degree. We use the old red Vox by itself a lot, or with another amp. I used an Underground 30 with a three-knob reverb unit for the surf tune on Play. But a lot of things were just me plugged into either the Z-Wreck, the Bruno, or the Trainwreck. Those amps are so responsive you don’t want anything else in the signal chain – plug straight in. I used the Trainwreck plugged straight in for “Kim,” and another good example is on “Departure.” That’s that amp with one mic on it.
Can we assume that “Kim” was written for your wife.
(laughs) I did write it for her to sing, but she passed on it! So we’re shopping it to Kim Basinger and Kim Cattrall (laughs). It might just be one of those things were it needs to be shopped around a bit before Kim decides if she is interested. That happens a lot in Nashville. The surest way to get a song cut is to have some big artist put it on hold. Then everybody wants it. It’s like high school, where you find out some girl is dating someone, and you say, “She is? I should’ve asked her out.” It’s that kind of thing. I’m just kidding, of course.
At what point was it decided to have vocal cuts on the album?
This album was really not planned in any sort of way, it just happened. I just wanted to make a guitar-based album. I knew there would be instrumentals, but didn’t know we’d end up with some unique things like a duet with B.B. King or the tune with Buck Owens. It just slowly came about.
Speaking of Buck, talk about “Come On In.”
I had done a number of things with Buck before he died, but none really worked out. “Come On In,” though, worked as a duet and was a great platform for that Bakersfield guitar sound.
What did Buck play on it?
Mandolin and dobro, and he sang harmonies.
What guitar did you use?
That was the Crook Buckocaster. Bill Crook made two – one for me and one for Buck. And I was doing my best to play like Don Rich. That was the Z-Wreck and the Vibro-King together.
And how about on “Start A Band,” the duet with Keith Urban?
Well, Keith and I talked about whether we should do some kind of blistering guitar thing or an interesting vocal duet with guitar parts. When I heard the song – which was written by my friend, Kelly Loveless – I knew it would be neat to sing those lyrics, about how things can change your life in a major way, and the potential for the song to have harmony guitar parts was a major factor in the decision to record it. To me it has very much an Eagles feel, which made it a lot of fun.
What guitar did Keith play?
I believe he used a Les Paul Junior plugged into a Marshall and a Matchless combo. I used my ’68 Tele with the ’62 AC30 and Z-Wreck for the first half, and the second half is the Trainwreck and Z-Wreck together, to get a bit grittier. The song starts with my typical clean guitar sound.
“Cluster Pluck” is quite the homage to great Tele players. How did you pick the contributors.
As much as anything, I picked my top seven influences. My solo, which is the first extended solo in the song, is my tribute to every one of them. I have stolen so much from each.
Let’s go through them, and talk about their influence on you. First, James Burton.
James is who we all want to be. If you play a Tele in country music, whether you know who he is or not, you can’t help but be influenced by him. I think Don Rich wanted to be him! I know Albert Lee wanted to be James Burton, and Vince Gill wanted to be Albert Lee and James Burton (laughs!) All of us take the foundation he laid and build our own house on it. So, having James on this was very important for me.
Favorite Burton recording?
I think the Roy Orbison video A Black And White Night Live really showcases him playing his old paisley Tele, and you see all of the stars like Bruce Springsteen in awe of him. And of course I owe a huge debt of gratitude to James for making it cool to play a paisley Tele!
Albert Lee.
He took country guitar in the ’70s to a place it had never gone. He had such a unique style and sound. And of course you have to listen to Emmylou’s Luxury Liner and all the stuff he did with Eric Clapton and Ricky Skaggs. His influence on the next generation of country guitar players like Vince Gill and Steve Wariner is not to be taken lightly.
Vince Gill.
Vince will go down as one of the most important artists in country music. He’s already revered that way, and it’s not normal for someone to receive that kind of respect while they’re still living. But he has influenced me to no end. In the ’80s and ’90s he played a Tele when it was not cool. He created his own sound when everything in country music sounded so similar. I’ve learned all of his licks and played most of his songs while growing up and playing clubs. I feel very fortunate to call him a friend and hang out with him.
Redd Volkaert.
I first saw Redd in a club in Austin six or seven years ago. He made me want to practice in a way few people have. I’ve stolen so much from him it’s to the point to where if I am taking a solo and don’t know what to play, I ask myself, “What would Redd do?” That’s why he’s on the record.
John Jorgenson.
If I could be any Tele player in the world, it would be him. I’ve always loved his tone, his note choices, and of course the songs he played with The Desert Rose Band. John played through Vox amps before they were cool.
I’ve been told you treat him the way your fans treat you…
Of course! I have a photo of him on my phone playing my ’68 paisley Tele. To see him plug a guitar into an amp and watch him play blew my mind.
Steve Wariner.
Steve was the earliest influence upon me as a singer, writer, and player. I met him when I was 12, and what a gift it was that he was the first star I met. I was just learning to play, and saw him entertain an audience, talk between songs, sing his hits, and play the guitar solos. I had no idea anyone could play, sing, and write like that. He showed me that it was possible to do all three well. He also had a huge influence on me, personally. He’s the reason I try to always treat people with kindness because that’s the way he was with me. When I met him, I didn’t know what a country music star acted like. I was a blank slate. I think about what would have happened if I had met someone else. Maybe I would have wanted to be a hell-raising alcoholic coke addict (laughs)!
Last, but certainly not least, Brent Mason.
If you were playing clubs in the early ’90s in a country band, you were playing Brent Mason’s guitar parts… If you’re playing in a country band now, you’re playing his licks! He plays wonderful parts that at times are hard for a guitar teacher to explain to a student. He got away with playing very cool, musically sophisticated parts on popular songs. I’ve tried to follow suit.
Returning to Wariner, talk about “More Than Just This Song.”
What a sweet guy – and what an amazing tribute to my mentor, Hank Goddard, and Steve’s mentor, Chet Atkins. When I was a teenager, I got to play in Hank Goddard’s band. He was a wonderful combination of Hank Garland, Les Paul, and Chet Atkins. And Chet was Steve’s story. He toured as Chet’s bass player when he was a teenager. We both wanted to write this song as a tribute to the guys who live on through our playing.
“When it comes to guitar sounds, the most important thing is the amp. The second [is] mic placement. The third is the guitar. But all [are] superseded by touch.”
Your tone and playing are very different on this tune.
Yes, I played a Gibson Firebird that was Hank’s main guitar through the Bruno Cowtipper 90. Whenever I’d play something that sounded too much like me, I’d stop and re-do the part more in Hank’s style. Steve did the same thing with a Country Gentleman Chet had given him. One of the strangest, most miraculous things happened when we went into the studio to record this; I opened the guitar’s case and in it was the handout from his funeral; Hank passed away last year. When Steve saw this, he said, “You’re never going to believe this.” He opened his guitar case, and Chet’s obituary was sitting on the strings of his guitar, too.
Does the writing process change for a mostly instrumental project?
Absolutely. With this kind of project, I can walk into the studio with just a rough idea, as long as I had a basic melody. In the studio you decide to put a steel solo here, or repeat the head there… One big help was Frank Rogers, my producer. He’s not what I’d call a virtuoso guitar player, and that’s a very good thing. He is a great melody guy, and a great songwriter. Frank was good at keeping things in check. He would rein me in when something might be getting too complex. He stressed the importance that not everyone that might buy the record is a guitar teacher, so let’s make it more accessible.
Frank has produced all of your records. What does he bring them?
He’s the perfect producer. He understands art and he understands what it takes to make something commercially viable. That’s often overlooked on big-budget albums, but he’s able to approach things both from the indie record producer viewpoint, and look at things like a record executive. He is able to marry artistic expression, interesting instrumental sections, and song selection. He brings knowledge of harmony, tones, and could engineer an album himself if he had to. A producer’s job is as much about scheduling and logistics, and he handles all of those things well. He’s great at managing people.
Was Play a satisfying project?
Yes, I enjoyed every aspect – taking risks and doing things I’ve never done. The album is audio ginger, like when you eat sushi; between courses they give you ginger to clean your palate. It’s like hitting re-set on my recording career. I’ve made five big-budget country albums and a Christmas album, so this will be number seven. That’s five albums that have had four singles released on each that became hits. Now I have two options. The first was to take a breather and make a greatest hits record, which in my opinion is not viable due to the advent of [music downloading], which gives people the ability of people to make their own “greatest hits” record. The other option was to do a side project. And I got to do an artistic, somewhat selfish album, because it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. This gives us a six-month window for people to see this other side of me, and yet we have a very commercial single with Keith that I think people are excited about. This allows me to have a breather, then start making my regular country records with a clean slate. Although I think the lessons learned from this album will greatly change the way I make my next record.
How so?
In any artistic endeavor, you learn things. Like working with Keith Urban; I never would have come up with the licks he came up with in the choruses. Don’t be surprised to see him as a guitarist on a couple tracks on my next record. He is such a great player and guitar stylist. And then of course to sit in the room and watch John Jorgenson play… I’d love to have him come in and play on a track or two. You can bet this record will affect my next album.
Is “Les Is More” a tribute to Les Paul?
Yes, but also archtop jazz players like Tal Farlow and Johnny Smith.
Which big Gibson did you use to get that tone?
I used Frank’s early-’60s Byrdland with flatwound strings. I learned to play jazz when I was young, and always felt it would be important to know my way around the neck better than the typical country or rock player. Jazz is like going to driving school, as opposed to just passing the driving test.
Is that background responsible for you ability to play extended solos?
I think so. It’s a great way to get around the fretboard. The notes between the right notes are a lot of the things jazz will show you how to use. It’s about balance. A great jazz player is like watching a great prize fighter who’s real nimble, and you can’t seem to knock him down, at least not for long. Jazz players are always one slid note from the right one, and the art is in using that note well.
Did you learn about jazz from Hank Goddard?
Yes. He and others used to play all sorts of country-jazz instrumentals that had 13th chords in them and such – things you just don’t hear in popular music now. I think that’s something that is really missing in popular music.
Do you tend to think more about scales or chords?
I did learn my scales long ago, but when you’ve been playing for awhile it becomes intuitive. You sing through the guitar; your hand just starts to do what you want it to do.
How much did you practice as a child?
Quite a bit, but not as much as some others I know. I started playing gigs early, so it was always more on-the-gig “practicing” – for crowds of people, which I still do every night.
A recent addition to the Paisley guitar collection, this ’53 Fender Telecaster was acquired from Hilda Fredericks, whose husband, Les, bought it second-hand in 1959. The guitar entered Paisley’s realm via Kendal Marcy, who plays keys and banjo in his band. Hilda is a lifelong friend of Marcy’s mother’s cousin; Kendal introduced her to Paisley at a January ’08 concert in Billings, Montana. Though Les had been offered a handsome sum for the guitar, he insisted that if he ever was to sell it, Paisley would get first crack. Les passed away unexpectedly in October, 2007, and the guitar made its debut in Paisley’s hands during the Billings performance, while Hilda looked on. You can hear it on the surf-inspired “Hang 101/2” from Play.
Do you practice at home?
Not very much.
Do you think about guitar playing?
All the time! I’m always looking for some new, unique thing to do. It’s mostly about writing songs, though. I’ll hear a song on the radio and think it would be fun to write something with a similar groove, and create a song around it. For me it’s about the words first, then finding the right melody to go around it.
Besides music, what inspires you?
Life in general. Sometimes the smaller and more insignificant event, the better the song. One of the things that drew me to country music was the way in which everyday life is addressed. My favorite country song is Dean Dillon’s “The Chair.” It starts with, “Well, excuse me, but I think you’ve got my chair.” It’s written in such a conversational way. I strive for that in my writing. I think about books like The Cider House Rules or The World According To Garp by John Irving; stories in which common everyday events have substance. The little details in those book make them feel like your own life. I want to do the same thing with my songs. I want people to be able to hear my songs and apply them to their lives.
What’s an example of that in your own writing?
“A Letter To Me.” It takes the idea of being able to write a letter to yourself at an earlier age, and looks at universal themes like your parents killing you if you fail algebra, or going out on a date, or a high-school bonfire. These things seem insignificant at the time, but can become very important later.
What statement are you making by having a gospel song on every one of your albums?
I try to have my albums reflect my life and who I am. Every record I make is kind of like getting a glimpse into a week in my life. You have the songs that are suited to Saturday night, and then you have the songs that relate to the grind of the work week. You have the ballads about love; it’s amazing what all goes on in a week. And then you have Sunday, and those songs, to me, are my Sundays. Country music owes so much to gospel music, and it’s such a big part of my life that I’d be making an incomplete record if I didn’t include a gospel song.
How much does your faith play a part in your life?
It plays a huge part. Having a son and a healthy family and getting to see things that seem like miracles to me. Of course, one man’s miracle is easily explainable to another, but I would be a very ungrateful person if I were to say that everything I have gotten has been because of luck – or worse, because of me. I have worked very hard to get where I am, but when I go into the studio with John Jorgenson or James Burton, I feel incredibly blessed. Some might say “Of course you get to do that. You’re so and so.” But to me, it’s a miracle.
Your career just hit the 10-year mark. How do feel about where you’re at, career-wise?
I couldn’t be happier. I love the shows we’re doing. I get away with a lot of things – musically and in terms of a performance!
Like what?
Like making an instrumental record! I shouldn’t be allowed to do this, but they’re letting me. I’ve never felt pressure to be anything other than what I am comfortable being. My record label chief, Joe Gallante, is a great partner. I wish I had a nickel for every time he said, “What feels right to you?” and let me go in that direction. Most people have asked how hard it was to make this album, and I tell them it was just a matter of saying, “I sure think it would be cool…” and Joe said, “That would be cool!” All I can ask is to be given a chance to express myself, artistically. I don’t know if guitar players are going to love it or not, but I had the opportunity.
A Tele and a Smile
For Chad Weaver, It’s All In A (Good) Day’s Work
As Brad Paisley’s guitar tech, Chad Weaver’s day begins at 8 a.m. when he’s awakened by the sound of riggers hoisting lights and winches lifting screens and speakers.
Weaver grew up in eastern Tennessee and spent as much time tearing into guitars as he did tearing them up. A garage-band player through high school, he moved to Nashville to attend Belmont University, and afterward spent time working in a music store back home, where his specialty was setup work. In that stint, he’d make the rounds at concerts, getting to know the road crews of various artists.
“It was through that I got my first road gig, as a guitar tech with Bryan White,” he recalled, and from there he went on to work for several top country artists. He arrived in Paisley’s camp in September, 2005.
Weaver’s day starts when he unloads Paisley’s guitars, amps, and racks from one of the nine 18-wheelers that transports the show.
“The first thing I do is get the guitars out so they can acclimate. That way if a neck is going to move, I have time to deal with it. Next thing I do is start stringing guitars.” Paisley uses two Fender Telecasters, four Crook guitars, and two Gibson J-45s. “Most get strung every day, unless it’s used for just one song, then I’ll let it go two shows,” Weaver says. The Teles and Crooks are strung with Ernie Ball coated Slinky sets, .010 to .046, except for the ’68 and ’52, which get the uncoated version. The Gibsons are strung with Ernie Ball coated .012 to .052 sets.
The J-45s are prototypes of a Paisley signature model with a Red Spruce top and 1942-style bracing. It’s assembled with hot hide glue and has a Fishman Aura preamp. Imaging comes via a Thuresson CM402 large-diaphragm condenser mic and LaChappelle 992 two-channel tube preamp and Millenia’s HV-3D preamp (the same setup Paisley uses in the studio).
Chad Weaver with “Pink,” Brad Paisley’s ’68 Tele.
After stringing all the guitars, Weaver looks to lunch. “But it never fails… As soon as catering is set up, it’s time to get my gear in position!” he laughs.
While crew assembles the stage, Weaver wires Paisely’s guitar rig. “The entire thing, except for speaker cabinets, is in my area offstage. This way I have complete access, so I can make any changes or – heaven forbid – a repair during the show.”
After everything is set, a line check is performed on all inputs. Paisely uses two GCX switchers for effects, both modified by Dave Friedman to include amp switching. “His guitar plugs straight into a Shure UR4D wireless, which feeds into the GCX units, which have an Aqua Puss analog delay, Boss DD-2, Keeley-mod Boss DD-3, Maxon AD 999, Keeley-mod TS-808, Zen Drive, and the Line 6 Echo Pro, Mod Pro, and Filter Pro rack units,” Weaver notes. “I also have a wah and a Visual Sound Route 808 overdrive pedal that only affects the Z-Wreck. We like to use the Trainwreck cranked, then the Z-Wreck with the Route 808 on it – we get a bigger sound having one amp with natural distortion and the other pushed by a pedal.”
The Z-Wreck has Celestion Gold speakers, while the Bruno Underground 30 has Celestion Blues, the Fender Vibro-King has one Fender speaker and two Jensen Neodymium-magnets, and the Trainwreck Liverpool 30, has a pair of Celestion G65 Heritage speakers. “All four are switched in and out during the show. We also have a couple of spares that sometimes get rotated in, such as a Dr. Z Evan, a Dr. Z Mazerati GT, and a Bruno Cowtipper.” After line check, Weaver continues cleaning and stringing until it’s time for soundcheck. “Brad and the band will play a song or two, and that’s when we decide if we want to change out an amp or pedal.” After soundcheck, Weaver takes care of last-minute adjustments and readies for the show. During Paisley’s performance, he swaps guitars onstage, and also manipulates effects and handles amp switching during the show. “The GCX and Ground Control allow me to change amp and effect selections on the fly,” he said. “Brad has an additional Ground Control onstage if he feels the need to make an unrehearsed change, but really it’s only there as a backup.”
So what makes for a good day in the life of Chad Weaver? “I live for a good show, one where my boss comes off stage, hands me his guitar, and has a smile on his face,” he said. After the show, he’ll usually have the entire rig back in its road case and on the truck within 45 minutes, ready to go the next day, when he’ll do it all over again.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2009 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Seymour Duncan SFX-07 Shape Shifter $225 Seymour Duncan, 5427 Hollister Ave., Santa Barbara, CA 93111 (805) 964-9749 www.seymourduncan.com
Seymour Duncan’s reputation when it comes to pickups (from dead-on vintage replicas to his own designs) has been well established for decades. And anyone who’s had the pleasure of hearing him play knows he’s not just an electronics geek.
With the Shape Shifter Tap Tremolo, he adds to his line of stompboxes something guitarists have been searching for for decades: a wide range of true vintage amp tremolos as well as more modern, even radical, effects in a sturdy outboard unit.
Want to sound like Duane Eddy or Bo Diddley? Maybe the Electric Prunes’ classic “I Had To Much To Dream Last Night” or Jimmie Vaughan doing “Scratch My Back”? No problem.
The concept behind the solidstate Shape Shifter is to achieve all of the manipulation of a digital brain while keeping the signal path 100 percent analog. As company vice president Evan Skopp explains, there is none of the compromise associated with analog-to-digital converters.
Of course, the proof is in the pudding, and in A/B tests with various classic amp tremolos, as well as experimenting with what the instruction manual describes as “flutters, shimmers, warbles, and helicopter chops,” the Shape Shifter met or exceeded expectations.
Amps used to put the Shape Shifter through its paces included a ’57 tweed Fender Vibrolux, a mid-’60s Silvertone 1484 “Twin 12,” and ’61 blond Fender Showman head through a blond 2×12 Bandmaster bottom. (A late-’50s Magnatone 260 was also on hand, but the Shape Shifter doesn’t really attempt to reproduce the Magnatone’s wobbly, pitch-shifting vibrato. If you want to sound like Lonnie Mack, you’ll have to look for another pedal or find an old Magnatone.) Instruments used were a ’64 Fender Jazzmaster, a late-’60s Gretsch Tennessean, and a ’99 DeArmond Bajo Jet baritone guitar.
The unit, which measures approximately 5.5″ square, is built like a tank, out of 16-gauge metal – weighing in just under two pounds. The base’s sloped face is 2″ deep at the rear, 1.25″ deep in front, not counting the knobs, which are laid out Depth, Shape, Wave, and Rate, left to right. Below those “chicken-head” pointers are stomp switches for Bypass and Tap Rate (more on that hip feature in a minute), and the single Input and Output jacks are placed along the back panel (or top edge). A red LED shows that the unit is engaged, and blinks to coincide with the Rate/Ratio (speed) setting, while a slider switches from Rate to Ratio mode, with a green LED indicating when Ratio is being employed.
It can be operated with an internal 9-volt battery or external power-cube adapter. Duncan electrical engineer Wayne Rothermich says that, with typical use, a quality alkaline battery (like Duracell or Energizer) should last about 100 hours.
In terms of replicating amp tremolos, the most surprising results came via the Showman/Bandmaster hybrid. A junction box built by Austin amp technician Bill Ussery was used to first get the amp’s Normal and (misnamed) Vibrato channels to sound as identical as possible with no tremolo on – Volume on 4, Treble on 10, Bass on 5.25 (5.5 for the Vibrato channel), Presence on 10.
Then the tremolos were matched as closely as possible. The Showman’s Speed was a hair past 6 with the Intensity all the way up. Except for the Rate knob’s Ratio settings, the Shape Shifter’s controls have no numbers, but the Depth was between 11:00 and midnight, with the Shape and Wave settings straight up, and the Rate also between 11:00 and 12:00.
Running through every tremolo song that came to mind (“Rebel ‘Rouser,” “Harlem Nocturne,” “Rumble,” various Slim Harpo and Bo Diddley tunes), while clicking the junction box back and forth, from Vibrato channel to Normal with Shape Shifter, the sounds were so well matched it was impossible to tell them apart (or, eventually, remember which channel was engaged). Which is exactly the objective – or at least one objective. The Shape Shifter doesn’t alter the amp’s tone and, if desired, can uncannily duplicate its tremolo. If you want to tweak it further, that’s up to you.
Both the solidbody and hollowbody sounded great, but the baritone (its bottom string an octave below a standard guitar’s low A) was downright awesome – like Duane Eddy on steroids.
Changing the Wave from triangular to smooth yielded a deeper fluctuation. While no longer identical to the Showman’s Vibrato setting, it was also attractive. The Shape Shifter’s manual suggests splitting the difference between the two waves for “classic American trem,” while finding the midway point between triangle and square for “classic British trem” (it also shows the Depth at 9:00 for both).
The manual additionally pictures settings for such out-there effects as “backwards,” “faux piano,” and “seizure.”
The Shape controls the rise and fall of the tremolo’s pulse. At 12:00, it decays at the same speed as it increases. Hip features of the Bypass switch are that it engages silently, doesn’t just “turn off” but completely removes the circuit from the guitar’s signal chain, and goes into sleep mode when bypassed, to preserve battery life.
The Tap Rate control is one of the 07’s hippest features, especially in Ratio mode. Stepping on the switch twice, in time with the music, establishes the tremolo speed’s 1:1 ratio. The player can then dial in 2:1, 3:1 (triplets), 4:1, or anywhere in between. So, assuming one can tap his or her foot in time with the song, this removes the guesswork of, in the manual’s words, “trying to sync your trem pulse to a song’s groove.”
All of the SFX’s controls are continuous and smooth, and one of the few improvements that come to mind would be to employ notches (or “clicks”). Normally, this isn’t the most desirable, but because the Shape Shifter has such a wide range (its Rate goes from one to 20 beats per second, and the Depth is equally sensitive), a slight “adjustment” (like a cord or pant leg brushing against one of the pointers) can throw you into a whole new sonic ballpark. Plus, exact settings would be easier to remember – instead of approximations like “between 11:00 and midnight” cited here.
Also, instead of unscrewing the entire back panel to change batteries (which, besides the inconvenience factor, unnecessarily exposes the unit’s guts), a flip-up battery door would be nice.
Otherwise, everything about the Shape Shifter spells quality, from top to bottom, at a very reasonable price. – Dan Forte
This article originally appeared in VG‘s May 2008 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Paul Gilbert was a teenager when he appeared on the music industry’s radar after Mike Varney of Shrapnel Records introduced him in Guitar Player magazine’s “Spotlight” column. After attending Hollywood’s Guitar Institute of Technology (GIT), Gilbert unveiled Racer X to the mid-’80s shred generation and made his mark as a top player in the genre. With his exceptional skills, he soon found himself on the cover of numerous guitar magazines and was embraced by those who admired his natural talent.
In the late ’80s, Gilbert left Racer X to join forces with bassist Billy Sheehan, singer Eric Martin, and drummer Pat Torpey to form Mr. Big. After the release of the group’s second album, Lean Into It, Mr. Big achieved international superstardom when the ballad “To Be With You” became a number one hit. With Mr. Big, Gilbert proved he was more than a metal shredder, and continued performing with the group until 1997, when he embarked on a solo career.
Two decades later, Gilbert and Ibanez are celebrating the 20th anniversary of the original Ibanez PGM100 signature model guitar, and the company will be reissuing various models as chosen by fans. In honor of this milestone, Ibanez hosted a party at the 2009 Winter NAMM show, which included performances by Gilbert’s solo band, special guests, and was highlighted by a reunion of Racer X. Additionally, fans are elated by the recent announcement of a reunion tour with Mr. Big, along with the release of a new solo disc with singer Freddie Nelson, and tour dates to support it. This follows Gilbert’s second solo instrumental album, Silence Followed By A Deafening Roar, released in ’08. Furthermore, Gilbert co-designed a new Ibanez model for 2009 called the Fireman, which has a reversed Iceman body. It was used to record the new album with Nelson and is part of his touring arsenal.
While Gilbert has accumulated a bevy of Ibanez PGM models released through the years, along with all the prototypes, he is also an avid collector of vintage (that’s right – vintage!) Ibanez models. A fan of classic axes, Gilbert was proud to show off personal favorites from his collection while explaining how most were acquired, and how some have become essential tools.
Late-’70s Deluxe 59’er Model 2340 with figured maple top in Dark Cherry Sunburst with pickguard removed.1976 Ibanez Deluxe 59’er Model 2340 with figured maple top in Cherry Sunburst.Late-’70s Ibanez Model 2351 in Tobacco Brown Sunburst finish with “faux” DiMarzio Super Distortion middle pickup added for cosmetics (not wired).Circa ’77 Ibanez Artist 12-string Model 2618/12 in Antique Violin finish.
What was your first guitar?
My very first guitar was a short-scale student model Stella acoustic. The very first electric guitar I ever put my hands on was my uncle’s Ibanez Destroyer, and it must have been a ’77. I think he got it new. That was my first experience with low action, an electric sound, and the option of bending a string. It sort of blew my mind, and obviously left an impression. I didn’t get to take it home, but I remember that first test run with an electric. And it was a great one.
Describe the vintage Ibanez guitars in your collection and how you found them.
Part of my collection is sort of nostalgic. I found a Destroyer just like my uncle’s. During that period in time, Ibanez was making a lot of really great Gibson copies. I found a few Flying V copies – they look like korina, but I think they’re ash stained to look like korina. They play and sound great. I’ve got two of those that are stock. But there’s one that I kind of went crazy with. I got it really cheap and I had this crazy outfit made by a fashion designer who makes stuff for Bjork and Madonna. He made this wild clamshell outfit for me, and modified the guitar to go with it. So it’s covered with pearls and white streamers. It’s sort of a “glam from the sea” theme.
The nice thing about vintage Ibanez stuff is it’s not insanely priced. If I get one that’s dented up, I’m not scared to do some wild stuff to it, and that’s a lot of fun. I’ve got some I really don’t want to do anything to because they’re in such great shape. But that one had a lot of dents and the neck had been repainted, so I thought I could do some experiments with it.
About half of my collection is made up of the copies that sort of put Ibanez on the map in America, though they certainly had guitars before then. One is a mid-’60s hollowbody I bought really cheap; it’s got the wrong bridge, so it’s not really functional as a musical instrument. But I used it on my Spaceship One album cover because it looks so cool. Ibanez still had some bugs in the quality at that time. In the ’70s they started making quality instruments, and the first were those copies. I ended up getting some Les Paul copies, and in one I put a fake DiMarzio humbucker in the middle position because I did a tribute to The Who and wanted to make it look like a Pete Townshend guitar with a Super Distortion in the middle. I didn’t want to cut up the guitar, so I used a “faux” pickup.
The Deluxe 59’er Sunlight Special is a Les Paul copy that’s really cool; it’s got a maple fingerboard. You don’t see many Les Pauls with maple fingerboards, and it has an amazing tone.
To me, the copies fall into two categories – set-necks and bolt-ons. I’ve been lucky enough to find some really cool set-necks. I’ve got a white doubleneck that looks like Alex Lifeson’s Gibson with 12-string and six-string necks. It sounds amazing. The 12-string is one of the best electric 12s I’ve ever played. I’ve been lucky enough to find some really cool set-necks. I’ve also got an SG-Custom-style guitar with three humbuckers. That’s great, as well, and I use it a lot for recording. The V is called a Rocket Roll, and those are all set-necks. They’re really good instruments. A few years after that, Ibanez started making original body styles. Of those, I have a really cool 12-string Artist. It doesn’t have a scratch – it’s really nice. Another original design is the Musician, which is a solidbody and was made when everybody thought guitars sounded better if they were really heavy and had lots of brass on them. So this is sort of like that. This one is a ’78 or ’79, laminated with different shaded woods; its neck goes all the way through the body and it has some pretty interesting pickups. I think they’re potted. I don’t know if anyone was doing that back then. It’s got a sustain block in the bridge, so the thing weighs a ton, but it plays great. It even has a half brass/half bone nut.
Another one is an Ibanez Performer, which I think came in both bolt-on and set-neck versions. I managed to get a PF300 in Midnight Olive, which is dark green. It has a set-neck, and it’s awesome. It’s Les Paul-ish, but not completely solid. Whatever method they had of making the slightly arched top… instead of carving a solid piece of wood, they arched a thin piece of wood with a little hollow layer. Some people may say that’s not the same, but it actually has its advantages; it makes the guitar lighter, and it has a unique sound that’s a little bit like a semi-hollow. So I really like that one. It has an amazing tone and it plays really well.
All the guitars from this era used Gibson scale, or something close. Ibanez guitars of today, like the RGs or the PGMs, are more of a Strat scale. I like throwing a set of .010s on the older shorter-scale guitars because the string tension really feels good. On the newer guitars, I tend to use .009s. It’s fun to use .010s because they have huge tone.
The vintage one I love best is a ’79 Artist 2630. It’s a semi-hollow with f-holes and looks a lot like an ES-335, but has a single-coil tap. I was surprised it was called “Artist” because the typical Artist looks like a double-cutaway Les Paul. I didn’t even know they made a semi-hollow Artist. It’s really a totally different guitar with a much bigger body style. Later in the ’80s, they made smaller versions, which I think may have been the AS guitars, but this is a full-size semi-hollow. Whoever had it before me must have played it a lot, so I put new frets on it and DiMarzios in it. I use it all the time for recording and on some live shows. I feel adventurous with a semi-hollow onstage in front of a loud amp. But it’s one of my favorite guitars. If my house was on fire, that’s definitely one of the instruments I’d grab first. It’s really an incredible musical instrument.
The next era of Ibanez includes my 1982 pointy guitar collection, like the Destroyer II and Rocket Roll II. They have sunburst and natural finishes, binding, and they’re similar to an Explorer and a V. But Ibanez came up with a slightly different body style, and the headstocks are similar to what you see on an RG now, with six tuners on a side. I’ve toured with those quite a bit. They sound great and have the shorter scale, so it’s less effort when I throw a set of .010s on them.
The last vintage Ibanez I have is a white Pro Line V [PR1660] from ’85 that looks like Randy Rhoads’ V. It’s really pointy. The pickups have bars, like a DiMarzio X2N, and it’s got a locking whammy. That’s really the cut off for Ibanez vintage models for me, because after that, you start getting into the RG models and that stuff just feels a lot more modern.
The strangest one is the mid-’60s hollowbody. I should probably get the right bridge for it someday and see how it sounds. It looks cool, but it’s in the “dime-store guitars” category. It’s really not the same level of instrument as the stuff from the ’70s, but it does have that funky ’60s quality and looks great in a photo. I’ve got [Ibanez: The Untold Story by Paul Specht with contributing writers Michael Wright and Jim Donahue] and I saw something similar in there. That’s an awesome book. Besides that, there’s the hollowbody Artist 2630, which is just a real cream-of-the-crop awesome instrument. It’s the one that’s most valuable to me as a musical instrument. I play it all the time. It also looks great with that much binding, so many knobs and switches, the pickguard and inlays, and cool inlay on the headstock. It’s a Cadillac in its own way.
Circa ’79 M Ibanez usician MC200 in Natural finish with neck-through construction, Super 88 humbucking pickups, and half bone/half brass nut.1979 Ibanez Artist Model 2630 semi-hollow in Antique Violin finish. “It’s one of my favorite guitars,” says Gilbert. “If my house was on fire, that’s definitely one of the instruments I’d grab first. It’s really incredible.”Mid-’70s Ibanez Model 2350 in Black with creme pickguard and pickup mounting rings.Circa ’78 Ibanez Professional Series PF300 in Midnight Olive.
Are there any older Ibanez models you’re still searching for?
Some of the copies they made really surprised me. They made a copy of Rickenbacker [model 2388] guitar that has the same body style as the bass. I always thought that was a really cool guitar. I’ve got a ’70s Rickenbacker guitar with the slanted frets, and couldn’t believe Ibanez made a copy of that one; I don’t think theirs had slanted frets, though. I saw one in Germany and was drooling over it! But I’ve never seen another. It would also be cool to get the [Custom Agent] that was sort of Les Paul-ish with a headstock like a mandolin and crazy inlays on the body, but those were always a bit pricey for me.
What do you consider pricey?
Well, it depends. The hollowbody stuff takes more to build, so it’s a more costly instrument in general. The 2630 Artist I’ve got, I think I paid about $1,830 for that, which was probably the most I’ve paid for any electric guitar. But it was absolutely worth it. I’ve got so many great tones and had great fun with that guitar. For a solidbody, the Destroyer was in perfect shape and had sentimental value because it reminded me of the first guitar I’d ever played. I think that one was $900-something. I had found it at Guitar Center years ago. Those are really my favorites. The Rocket Roll IIs and Destroyer IIs, those I’ve been able to find for anywhere between $450 and $650. That’s pretty reasonable.
Have you modified the guitars you take on the road by changing the pickups or tuners?
With the ’70s models like the original Rocket Roll and Destroyer, the original Ibanez pickups are potted, and they sound great. If you’re running them through a loud, super-distorted amp, you get squealy things happening. For the newer ones, the pickup I use most is the DiMarzio PAF Classic. They’re potted and have great tone. The tuners tend to be original, but I did change those on the 2630. They were what I’d call “ambitious” tuners. They had thumb adjustments on them. I think maybe they worked in the old days, but they had gotten kind of old, so I put new tuners on it that looked the same, and they’re a bit more stable.
How many guitars are in your collection now?
Somewhere in the neighborhood of 80… might be close to 90 – I stopped counting. I’ve been working with Ibanez for so long. In Japan, I think they’ve released close to 15 PGM models of all different colors, shapes, and sizes. So I’ve ended up with a lot of production models, plus prototypes, various acoustic guitars, and other oddities.
Late-’70s Ibanez Deluxe 59’er Sunlight Special Model 2342 in Ivory finish with maple neck and dot inlays.Mid-’70s Ibanez Rocket Roll Model 2387.Mid-’70s Ibanez Model 2345 in Ivory finish with removed vibrola and tailpiece.1982 Ibanez Rocket Roll II in Cherry Sunburst.
How many vintage Ibanez instruments do you have?
Probably 17 or 18. I’ve had a lot of vintage Ibanez guitars over the years and I’ve had fun tracking down the copies. I used to have a Firebird copy, a Thunderbird bass copy, and some of the early Iceman models. I had the one with the sliding pickup. Those I’ve kept have been my favorites because they sounded and played the best. But they’re really great instruments. I used the Firebird copy quite a bit, but I was in the mood to get some new blood.
The really satisfying thing about Ibanez is that when you go back to the ’70s, they made everything. I had a really good Ibanez Stratocaster copy at one point. I had a Telecaster Custom copy, too. It’s sort of one-stop shopping.
The one guitar I’d love to get someday is a Barney Kessel. I’ve tried them in vintage shops and they play really well. I always thought the Gibson Byrdland was cool, but I tried one and the access to the upper frets was horrible. The Barney Kessel actually has really good access to the upper frets. The action on those I’ve tried has been really good, and it looks cool. Though it’s a jazz guitar, it’s super pointy. So to me, it has sort of a Satanic metal vibe to it. I’m just scared of it because I know it’s hollow, and I know if you got it through any kind of volume or distortion, it will be howling like a pack of wolves. I’m scared to pay that much money for anything I can’t use!
Do you collect amps or effects pedals?
I do collect some effects. I use the ADA flanger a lot. It’s definitely one of the most amazing vintage pedals. I’ve always been a huge Pat Travers fan. Back in the late ’80s, I was always looking in the Recycler, which is the L.A. paper, and I picked up three or four ADA flangers super cheap – all from the “golden era.” But even then, there was a difference between them, and this one seemed to sound a little better than the others. I have it on my pedalboard now. It’s my most irreplaceable pedal.
One of the coolest pedals I bought, because it looked cool, was a Mosrite Fuzzrite. It looks like a little robot, and I got it cheap in the late ’80s at a guitar show. At first, I didn’t really like it because it’s definitely not meant for heavy metal. But if you want some early Jeff Beck/Yardbirds fuzzed-out kind of sounds, and as long as you stay away from chords and play a lot of single notes, it’s really amazing. There’s so much character. It’s very ’60s sounding, sort of an insane prototype for a Fulltone Soul Preacher. I don’t know if the guts are even close, but it’s sort of the thing where you bend a note and all these harmonics are flying out of it that you wouldn’t expect. I still have a lot of vintage Electro-Harmonix stuff that I bought new. Mine have survived pretty well. I’ve got an Electric Mistress. It’s the Alex Lifeson sound. Without that, I could never be in a Rush copy band! It’s cool. I’ve got a newer Electric Mistress on my pedalboard now just because it’s flatter; the older one is bigger and my pedalboard case wouldn’t close with the older one.
The main vintage pedals I use are the ADA flanger, and I’ve got an old E-H Polyflange. It has a really great chorus sound. It’s not on my pedalboard at the moment because it’s too big. You can only fit so many of the E-H pedals! I tried a new one, but didn’t like it as much. The old one has the magic.
The amps I’m using are vintage in design. I’m using a lot of Marshall reissues. My favorite is a 50-watt Vintage Modern 2266C 2×12 combo. I just did a theater tour and my sound man still tells me to turn down, so it’s plenty loud. I still have some of the old Marshalls I had back in the day. I’ve got one 50-watt Mark II that was modified by Lee Jackson. It basically goes to 11 – tons of distortion if you want it. I think it has two Master Volumes so you could get it doubly distorted. Before it was modified, it had no Master Volume. I think this one was made in 1974. It’s got a small logo. I really like the ’74s. I’ve had a few and they’ve all been really good. The only other vintage amp I’ve got is a silverface Fender Deluxe Reverb that also was modified by Lee Jackson, so it barely resembles the original. It really doesn’t sound very good until you turn everything all the way up, and then it’s amazing. It was originally a combo, but he took it out of the box and made it into a head.
Early-’80s Ibanez Destroyer II in Cherry Sunburst.Mid-’70s Ibanez Destroyer Model 2359.Mid-’70s Ibanez Rocket Roll decorated with white pearls – “Glam From The Sea.”Early-’80s Ibanez Rocket Roll II in Cherry Sunburst, with original bridge but changed studs.
Is there anything you regret having parted with?
There’s a Marshall amp that was stolen, that I regret losing. It was another one of those ’74 Mark IIs. That was a great one. If I really love something, I try to hold onto it.
Do you have a go-to guitar for writing or find different guitars bring out particular characteristics in the way that you play and write?
That’s one of the great things about having a guitar collection. I do believe in the theory that there’s one great song in every guitar and having a new instrument always inspires you to go somewhere. In general, if I pick up a pointy guitar, I’ll take a look at myself in the mirror and think that I’ve got to write a metal song. But the semi-hollow Artist has been a real inspirational guitar. I’ve written a lot of stuff on that. I also have an Ibanez Pat Metheny model, which is a crazy hollowbody, and I wrote the whole Spaceship One record on that thing. It’s fairly loud, acoustically, and I didn’t even plug into an amp.
How are your guitars set up and what type of picks do you use?
I use Ernie Ball standard .010-.046 strings. I especially like the Ernie Ball RPS because they have the reinforced ball ends. Since I don’t use whammy bars, the strings never break. It’s nice to have really low action, but I tend to use super-high, skinny frets, as opposed to the jumbo wide ones. One exception is my Ibanez SG Custom copy. That still has the original small frets on it. Initially, I though I would change them out, but there’s something about that guitar. It has a really cool personality, and I didn’t want to mess with it. So that’s my one flat-fret guitar and it still has low action. But the first electric guitar I got was an old Les Paul Custom. I played it for a few years and the frets were so small that it was like having no frets. For picks, I use .60mm Dunlop Tortex.
When listening to music, do you prefer the comfort zone of your influences or seek out new artists who inspire you?
It’s really hard to shake my early-’80s favorites – the stuff you hear when you’re 13 will always be magical. So I can never get enough of Van Halen II, Pat Travers Go For What You Know, Robin Trower Bridge Of Sighs, Frank Marino Live, Frampton Comes Alive. The Pat Travers Go For What You Know record really saved my soul from being an Yngwie clone! I forever try to promote that album to save all the other Yngwie clones! But with newer stuff, if I listen to anything that approaches shred, it would probably be more classical music. I still listen to Bach, Beethoven and Haydn – the serious shredders! For contemporary music, I still like pop music a lot. I love the new Justin Currie record. It’s an amazing pop record. A friend of mine – Linus Of Hollywood – does some great stuff, too. For rock bands, I like the Wildhearts. That was a cool band in the ’90s. I like the Darkness. I think they were great. I like Amy Winehouse, too. But I’m pretty ill-informed on most new stuff.
1985 Ibanez Pro Line Series PR1660 in Pearl White.’70s Ibanez Double Axe 6/12 Model 2402 in Ivory.Mid-’60s Ibanez Model 495 hollowbody in Yellow Sunburst finish with replaced bridge and tailpiece. Appeared on cover of Gilbert’s Spaceship One album.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s June 2009 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Gibson’s double-cutaway Les Paul Special 3/4 from 1959 is one of the rarest Les Pauls from the “golden era.” It’s also one of the more unusual in that it may well be the worst-designed classic.
Gibson introduced the full-scale Les Paul Special in 1955, in the wake of the success of the Les Paul Junior. With the Junior, Gibson created an entry-level solidbody with the same quality as the Les Paul model (a.k.a. “goldtop” and later Standard) and Custom, but without the contoured top cap and just one pickup. The Special offered the same economical “slab-body” design as the Junior, but with two pickups – the same two soapbar P-90 pickups that were on the higher-priced Standard (until the advent of humbuckers in mid ’57).
Gibson extended the entry-level concept in ’56 with a three-quarter Junior; its scale length was 223/4″ – two inches shorter than Gibson’s standard 243/4″. For beginners or players with smaller hands, those two inches made it much easier to handle. The nomenclature came from the violin world, where a “3/4” violin or upright bass typically measured just more than 9/10 of a full-size instrument. That carried over to Gibson, where the “3/4-scale” was actually over 9/10 of the full scale.
Unlike 3/4-size violins and basses, the Junior 3/4 had the same body as the regular model, same bridge, pickup, and knob location. To accomplish that, the fingerboard had to be shortened to only 19 frets, rather than 22. As on the full-scale model, the single-cuty body provided access to all frets.
All of Gibson’s Les Pauls started with a single-cut body, but in mid ’58, with sales beginning to fall off, Gibson modernized the Junior and Special with a double-cut body. Now, all 22 frets were clear of the body, providing even greater accessibility than the single-cutaway had offered. To guitarists of ’58, it was an improvement (although players today consider the neck on the single-cut to be sturdier), and sales of Juniors and Specials almost doubled from ’58 to ’59.
It would seem a no-brainer to make the same change to the 3/4 Junior and even to introduce a 3/4-size double-cut Special. That’s exactly what Gibson did in ’59, but somehow the message was garbled in transmission; instead of simply installing a shorter neck (still with all frets clear of the body) on the double-cut, Gibson made the neck even shorter. The neck joined at the 15th fret, leaving a four-fret length of fretboard extending over the body. Why they did this is anyone’s guess. There was no apparent problem with the neck joint; if there had been, Gibson would have abandoned the all-clear neck design of the full-scale Junior and Special. By putting four frets over the body, Gibson made them virtually inaccessible and useless.
That was not the only problem with the double-cut 3/4 models. They bring to mind Hall of Fame baseball pitcher Dizzy Dean, who was hit on the toe by a batted ball in the ’37 All-Star game. The pain in his toe caused him to favor that foot, which caused him to alter his pitching motion, which caused him to develop a sore arm, which effectively ended his career and sent him to an early retirement.
The neck design of the Les Paul 3/4-size Juniors and Specials was like Dizzy Dean’s broken toe. To compensate for the shorter neck, Gibson had to move the bridge back toward the end of the body. Then, to maintain the position of the pickups relative to the bridge (which is to say, to maintain the basic sound and performance quality of the model) the pickups had to be moved, too.
And it didn’t end there. Although the scale length and the location of the bridge and pickups were now the same relative to each other, they were out of kilter with the overall body design. Now, when a player put a double 3/4-size Junior or Special on his knee and played it normally, his right hand hit the strings several inches farther toward the neck than he was accustomed to, and the sound was mushier. To get the same sound he had been accustomed to getting from a full-scale double-cutaway model, he would have to cock his right arm back in a more awkward playing position. A guitarist may not have risked developing a sore arm that would end his playing career, as Dizzy Dean had done, but compared to the full-scale models, 3/4-size double-cutaways were simply not right.
For the worst Les Paul design, some might argue that the original 1952-’53 goldtop, with its shallow neckset angle and the “strings-under” trapeze tailpiece, would rival the 3/4-scale double-cutaways. But the early goldtop can be forgiven as a prototype design, while the double-cutaway design had already been done right on the full-scale models. There was no excuse for screwing it up on the 3/4-scale versions. Gibson soon saw its error and corrected the design with the changeover to SG bodies in 1961. Although the 3/4-scale SGs did not last past ’61, they did have all frets clear of the body, just like the full-scale SGs.
Of course, if Clapton, Page, or Hendrix had played a Les Paul Junior 3/4 or Special 3/4, we might be touting the “back bridge location” as the perfect configuration for getting the classic rock and roll sound. But few players at all – and no future guitar gods – embraced the 3/4 models. By the time the double-cutaway versions appeared, the initial splash made by the full-scale double-cutaway Junior and Special had begun to dissipate. According to Gibson shipping totals, only 12 Special 3/4 models went out in 1959, followed by 39 in 1960, for a grand total of 51. If not one of the most desirable of Les Pauls, the Les Paul Special 3/4 is nevertheless one of the rarest models from Gibson’s golden era.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s September 2008 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
’54 Precision Bass: VG Archive, courtesy of Rockohaulix.
In the world of electric basses, the 1952 Fender Precision is the one that started it all.
While it’s true that Gibson, Rickenbacker, and Audiovox all built electric basses some years earlier, the instrument developed by Leo Fender and George Fullerton has always been considered the progenitor of the modern electric bass.
The Precision was introduced at a time when musicians were beginning to pay more attention to electric stringed instruments, and its acceptance was bolstered by the fact that the Fender company had also marketed a successful solidbody electric guitar (the Esquire/Broadcaster/Telecaster) shortly before the Precision was introduced in late 1951.
The Precision originally emulated many elements of its six-string sibling, including a maple neck with black dot fretboard markers, a “slab” body made of ash (finished in a dark blond that has come to be known as “butterscotch” in vintage-guitar parlance), black Bakelite pickguard, and through-the-body string loading. Electronics consisted of one single-coil pickup with level polepieces, and master volume and tone knobs mounted on a small metal plate. Its bridge had two pressed-fiber saddles, each handling two strings. A bridge cover and a handrest (covering the pickup) proffered an aerodynamic aesthetic (possibly to counter the “plank” designation some players used in reference to Fender’s slab-body instruments), and it had a finger rest on the treble side of the body. Its 34″ scale would ultimately become the industry standard.
And while its headstock looked similar to that on the Tele, the P-Bass didn’t look completely like a big brother, as it’s a double-cut instrument, with a large pickguard that covers both cutaway horns.
In 1954, the Precision underwent several significant changes, and while modifications to the Telecaster occurred around the same time, those on the P-Bass also owed a tip of the headstock to Fender’s newer solidbody guitar, the double-cut Stratocaster introduced the same year. Perhaps the most important change was the a forearm bevel on the front and a “belly cut” on the back, essentially matching the profile of the Stratocaster (some without the belly cut, known as “slab” bodies, were made as late as 1957).
There were cosmetic changes to the second generation P-Bass, as well. The standard finish became a yellow-and-brown sunburst, which was also standard on the Stratocaster, and its pickguard was changed to white (also per the Strat), though the P-Bass’ guard maintained its large silhouette. Blond became an optional finish and also took on a lighter shade, a la Telecaster finishes of the era (often dubbed “Tele blond”). Pickguards on contoured blond mid-’50s P-Basses remained black but were eventually also changed to white.
While the overall aesthetics of the mid-’50s P-Bass tilted more toward the Stratocaster instead of the Telecaster, its peghead retained the Tele-type profile.Other transitions happened in 1955, including steel bridge saddles replacing the pressed-fiber units, and the pickup was given staggered-height polepieces to better balance string output.
In 1956, Fender began offering the Precision in certain Dupont colors for an extra charge, though this had apparently been an unofficial policy all along. The option was supplanted by an official list of custom colors later in the ’50s.
The difference in comfort between the early- and mid-’50s P-Basses is obvious thanks to the contouring on the latter, but many mid-’50s examples also have the reputation of being surprisingly light.
In ’57, the Precision assumed the silhouette and electronics layout it has had since, including a split-coil pickup with two polepieces for each string, a smaller pickguard on which the control knobs were placed, and a headstock silhouette that matched the Stratocaster. The bass’ hardware and electronics have been improved over the decades, and there have been other changes and adjustments along the way, but a standard P-Bass today looks pretty much like the version introduced a half-century ago. And while Fender has reissued the early-’50s “slab” configuration of the Precision and the fully contoured late-’50s version, it has not reissued the mid-’50s variant, though the Sting signature model is inspired by it.
The in-between Precision was around about as long as the original, and proved the company was forging ahead with improvements that would make a huge impact on popular music.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s May. ’07 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
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A recent addition to the Paisley guitar collection, this ’53 Fender Telecaster was acquired from Hilda Fredericks, whose husband, Les, bought it second-hand in 1959. The guitar entered Paisley’s realm via Kendal Marcy, who plays keys and banjo in his band. Hilda is a lifelong friend of Marcy’s mother’s cousin; Kendal introduced her to Paisley at a January ’08 concert in Billings, Montana. Though Les had been offered a handsome sum for the guitar, he insisted that if he ever was to sell it, Paisley would get first crack. Les passed away unexpectedly in October, 2007, and the guitar made its debut in Paisley’s hands during the Billings performance, while Hilda looked on. You can hear it on the surf-inspired “Hang 101/2” from Play.
