The Guitar Designer's Workshop

Active Lifestyle Weekend

Regular readers of this page are familiar with my obsession with vehicles. True enough, my current column in Premier Guitar maps out paralells between guitars and cars. So please forgive me if I dwell a bit more on the full-throttle side of my brain.

In addition to hanging out in my shop and building guitars, I write for automotive publications and websites, including Carspondent.com, home of the Active Lifestyle Vehicle awards. ALV is the only car-of-the-year program to combine the input of nationally-recognized automotive journalists with elite and area athletes to determine which cars and trucks best meet the needs of buyers with active lifestyles. To my delight, I was asked to participate as a member of the judging panel. As a bicycle enthusiast and outdoorsman-by-default, I felt that I could at least add loading guitars and amps into the vehicles as a real-world test. Our mission: drive and evaluate thirty two vehicles in seven categories.

This year, the ALV evaluations were held in Phoenix, Arizona at the home of Local Motors, builders of incredible off-road vehicles—drool-worthy machines from hell. The event was also sponsored by OnStar and world-famous collector car auction powerhouse Russo and Steele.

Below is a view inside the Local Motors factory. LM treated us to a nice breakfast buffet and a tour of the facilities. Through the windows behind the Astroturf seating area you can see into the engineering studio. 

Seeing the Rally Fighters being built up close was a thrill. I’d followed the evolution of the company over the years so it was a priveledge to be invited inside.

  

Lusting over the stripped down and purposeful machines along with me were with esteemed journalists (and heroes of mine) Larry Edsall and Denise McCluggage. If you’re a car person, Larry and Denise probably need no introduction. For those who aren’t familiar I’ll say that if there’s a subject in the automotive world that Larry hasn’t published something on I have yet to find it. Apart from being a fine author, journalist and motorsports photographer, Denise drove a Ferarri for Luigi Chinetti’s organization (NART) and was class winner at the Sebring International 12 hour in 1961. Unphased by A-list rock stars, I was thrilled and nervous to meet her.

 
Also on hand was former Indy 500 racer Lyn St. James. Before Danica Patrick, Lyn was Indy’s first female Rookie of the Year in the first of her seven 500s. In 1995 she set the world record on a closed-course for women—averaging 225.722 mph. Yow! 

I was hoping to ride shotgun with Lyn testing the 550 horsepower Cadillac CTS Sport Wagon. This thing has got some serious grunt—sort of a Corvette station wagon. By the way, the Caddy would make a slick ride to get you to a gig—as many musicians tend to run late. It actually will swallow up a half-stack, three guitars and a pedalboard with the rear seats folded down. If you are playing club gigs and can afford this ride, you’re probably doing it for fun anyway. Here during the initial walk around Lyn is casting a glance at the Range Rover Evoque.

Despite my initial impression that it was a watered-down suburbanite car, the Evoque intrigued me in person. Small enough to get into my garage at home (hint) it was nimble and fun to toss around. The interior was pure joy, with double stitched leather everywhere. Powered by a turbocharged four cylinder, the Evoque is at once a throwback to the original Land Rovers and a look at the future of the marque. I had to ask the brand specialist if it was indeed a four—it was fairly spunky. I barely know who Victoria Beckham is, but I think this car is sexy. Will it go offroad? I think most buyers never will.

Another favorite of mine was the new Fiat. Like a blast from the past, Fiat comes back to American roads with this funky little car. Although totally worthless as a musician’s gigmobile due to a miniscule cargo area, I had to vote it up as one of the most enjoyable rides. The smile on my face as I zipped through the Phoenix traffic was almost as big as when I floored the Caddy. The exterior color cues inside the car were a nice touch.

 
Surprisingly quiet, the Fiat registered an average of 62 db at 60 mph—about the same as my Audi S4. For comparison, the Audi Q7 on hand was about 59db and the Cadillac was 56db. 

My driving partner, Ironman triathlete Jeremy Hendricks and I both found the Mazda 5 to be well thought out and comfortable. In most categories the Mazda was unceremoniously capable. From ease of loading to seat comfort and control placement, it checked all the right boxes. The 5’s proficient yet unremarkable personality won its class with a rational-minded score, yet neither of us could envision owning one. Personally, the “Zoom Zoom” whisper on the TV comercials has lost my vote for any of their products. How’s that for pretzel logic?

Audi had their Q7 and A7 make the final cut. I was surprised how the Q7 felt much lighter and managable than its size and weight might indicate. Probably the most refined of the bunch, the A7 seemed slightly out of place among the scrappy Kias, Nissans and VWs. It wasn’t for me to drive as its popularity with the testers kept it too busy all day. Shame, it probably would have spoiled me for the rest.

Out on Local Motors’ off-road test track, the Land Rovers and Jeeps were trundling over basketball-sized rocks at a moderately slow pace—both showing strong trail manners. Until I lived in New England I had no clue about how this sort of thing could ever be important. 

Then, to put things into perspective, Local Motors rolled out their Rally Fighter (road legal in 50 states) and hammered through the course at 40+ mph. The LM test driver got a little air and tested the 20 inch suspension travel with photo-spy Brenda Priddy aboard. Go Brenda!

Next year, I’m driving that.

Without sounding like a kiss-ass, I’d have to say that there wasn’t a bad vehicle in the bunch. Just to make it into the finals, a car has to be of a significantly high quality—which made our evaluations difficult. There were some surprises, and the Jeep over Land Rover turnabout demands a rematch. Believe me, the manufacturers are already hard at work stepping it up.

After a day of driving dozens of vehicles and hanging out with great, enthusiastic people it was time to go back to the hotel and chill before dinner. That evening’s fare was the fourth mexican meal I’d had in two days, but the stories and comraderie were the best part. I wasn’t surprised how many car people were also guitarists. I’m already looking ahead to next year. Now, if I can just score an Evoque for a long-term test.

 

RESULTS
The evaluations took into consideration overall design, engine power, fuel efficiency, and cargo capability. In the final tally, the athletes’ votes and those of the jury panel members each accounted for fifty percent. 

Following are the winners of the 2012 competition by category:

Urban: Mazda5
Best Value On-Road: Subaru Impreza
Best Value Off-Road: Jeep Wrangler
Luxury On-Road: Audi A7
Luxury Off-Road: Jeep Grand Cherokee 
Green ALV: Volkswagen Jetta Sportwagen TDI
Family: Audi Q7 TDI

 Many thanks to Automotive Spy Photographer extraordinaire Brenda Priddy for her generous help with the photos for this story.

Photos ©2011 Brenda Priddy and Company (except Cadillac stock photo and my crappy cell phone pics).

Correction: I previously wrote that Denise McCluggage had been the first woman to race for the Ferarri factory team, which is not true. Her association was with Chinetti's North American Racing Team-the US Ferarri Distributor.

Media Enjoys Dantzig Direction

A quick entry to thank all of you for your continued interest in my work. It has been satisfying to be able to create at my own chosen pace—following my muse. I’ve never been comfortable with large groups, so the interaction via email and through your comments on this blog has offered me a way to speak with each one of you as a friend.

The media has noticed this as well, and I’ve been approached with more opportunities than I can reasonably manage. For now, I’m keeping it as low key as I can and still put food on my table! I’m not after big-time production so it’s really about the quality of my interactions—not the quantity.

For those of you interested in more “news” type information about what’s going on here at the shop, I suggest that you sign up for the e-newsletter. 

Until next time.

Jol

 

Weather, Whether or Not

Just a few days of heavy rain clearly illustrated how our earth has been carved up over millions of years. The Workshop is located up a rural road on the side of a hill, and a lot of water flows down creeks and streams—right alongside the road to the shop. But just as quickly as the rains came, the sunshine broke through the clouds and everything started to look good again. Carla and I stopped on our way to take some photos in the morning mist.

Further up the way, the evidence remained. After three days of bad weather the road was collapsing at the edges, and rocks and stone were getting deposited along the way. It wasn’t impassable, but if it had continued much longer there wouldn’t be any work getting done in the shop now. As it was, the driveway will have to be filled and raked and the town will have some work to do along many of the smaller roads.

What this all brings to mind is that the climate not only messes with the outdoors, but it affects the health and well-being of guitars and other musical instruments. I work hard to maintain a relative huumidity of 35% in my shop. That’s the prescribed level that most knowledgeable luthiers will cite. It’s a good mid point, but more importantly it errs on the side of dryness. I have some acoustic instruments that bow and bulge a bit when things get too humid, but being built at 35% allows them to tolerate lower humidity days without splitting wide open. Bulging is manageable, imploding is definitely not. It’s a good idea to monitor your instruments at home too. I had decided to equip the case for the Crow with a nice German-made hygrometer to do just that.

 

I’d seen a few cases with some sort of humidity gauge placed inside where it couldn’t be seen until the case was opened. I thought that was a waste, especially if you have a lot of guitars in storage. So, I decided to put mine on the side of the case where it could be seen more easily. This entailed making the case shell with a mounting hole.

After the tweed was glued on and the interior plush installed, I carefully trimmed around the hole. The gauge back (where the sampling takes place) is inside the pocket, which will have screened openings into the main body of the case.

 

Here, I’m marking the outside before cutting the tweed. Too much time and effort has gone into this case so it was a matter of measure twice, cut once. The next step is to install a mesh back to keep small articles from getting into the meter, then fitting the gauge. I’m off to the supply store to find a fine metal mesh and some fill stone.

Edenbound

What a great way to begin the week in the Workshop. The air was cool and filled with the smells of early fall. The morning light streaming over the hills and through the trees made it a perfect time to go for a walk. I noticed that the first colored leaves were already on the ground.

As Heidi and I walked the road to the Workshop I thought of my time spent living in Northern California, where many mornings felt like this. Somehow my mind wandered to one of my favorite books, Steinbeck’s East of Eden. Maybe it’s the feeling of being alone in the middle of an expanse of nature, far from the city. Or perhaps it’s the grounding comfort of the dependable cycle of the seasons—immune to the petty travails of humankind.

Adam Trask walked alongside us silently, wiping his brow with a handkerchief and squinting as he looked into the distance. Off in the trees, among the dappling light I caught a glimpse of a guitar—and then it was gone. How can I capture all this in a build?

Mo’ Keb’ Mo’

Just a quick post about the Ke’ Mo’ PBS show last night. The seeds for this show were planted almost four years ago during one of  Keb’s visits to the Workshop. The two of us had lunch together with Jack Forchette who is Infinity Hall’s Director of Entertainment and Business Development. Infinity’s PBS TV show was just being planned, and it seemed like a three-time Grammy Award winner like Keb’ Mo’ would be an excellent fit for this intimate venue.

I arrived at Infinity Hall in Norfolk, Connecticut moments before the tour bus pulled up and Jack and I were able to welcome Keb’ and his band at the front door. To my delight, Keb’s manager John Boncimino was there as well. John and I go back to the old blues club days in Chicago, so it was great to catch up.  Keb’ was in good spirits and ready to get down to a long day and night of work, so inside we all went.

 
My first task was to take a look over “Big Red” which is one of Keb”s main guitars. Everything seemed fine so I hustled up to the mezzanine with Jack and John to watch some of the run through.

The shot below shows how cozy the hall is, and the Meyer Sound system makes every seat a perfect audio experience. I was happy to see Keb’ Mo’ Band regular Jeff Paris again, today he was playing guitar and mandolin. That’s him on the far left. Seated in the center was legendary producer Russ Titelman, who was working with Keb’.

After a long sound check we all got to hang out a bit and then have some dinner. The show went well with only one break for some difficulty when the jib/crane camera went down. It was replaced quickly and it was on with the show. The band went through old favorites like “Rita” and “Shave Yo’ Legs” as well as some material from the latest CD The Reflection to get it down on video.

Directly after the taping the TV crew shot some Q&A footage with show patrons and Keb’ for a while then we all disappeared downstairs to the dressing rooms. It was great to be among friends and to celebrate the occasion. Everyone seemed really happy with the show, and Titleman was delighted. With all the tension of the long day gone, Keb’ and I were able to have a little time to sit talk about some future projects. Around midnight it was time to go, with warm goodbyes all around before we headed our separate ways in the night.

 

Tweed Case Buildup and Keb’

There’s been a lot going on since my last post. Hurricane Irene gave us a good scare but fortunately we escaped with very little damage. Some of our neighbors weren’t so lucky. Most of the work here involved strapping stuff down—moving and waterproofing things. The ramp up and wind down were more stressful than the storm itself. A few downed tree limbs and a general mess outdoors was the extent of it as we dodged the bullet.

After months of back and forth with the manufacturer, the case husk for the Crow arrived. Despite my sending samples for the vintage antique tweed, the color and finsih were not to my liking. I had paid for an entire hide of smooth, dark brown leather for the trim to match the antique suitcase—fortunately that was perfect.

Because I’d already tested a lacquering process for the samples, I knew that I could get the tweed right. It was just a matter of taking the case apart and antiquing it. The next step was to mix up the lacquer tint.

 
The color I wanted simulated decades of darkening and discoloration from use. The recipie included yellow, red, brown and a hint of violet all mixed into a thin base of lacquer. The application would be done with a two inch brush in order for me to work it into the weave.

Even though the tint was strong, I wanted to use multiple coats in order to replicate the uneven weathering of the original. This gives it a more authentic look and feel.

I’ll get the last coat on this morning before I head down to Infinity Hall to meet up with my old friend Keb’ Mo’. He’s taping a PBS concert tonight, and I had a small part in hooking him up with the gig. We’re gonna be talking guitars and catching up. There are some new ideas on the boil—can’t wait to see what we come up with.

 

Headstock from Hell

Pressing onward with the Hell’s Half Acre guitar, I’ve gotten the neck blank to the rough carve stage. To do this, I use a cabinet scraper as described in my previous post. After the truss rod has been installed and the spline glued in, the final headstock shape could be cut. Jim looks on as I finsih up.

In the photo below, you can see the tuner holes which are undersized until the moment the tuners are fitted. This will give a snug fit for improved vibration transfer.

The stepped channel for purfling and outside binding has also been cut. I’m using a half-herringbone purfling made of alternating maple and ebony pieces to create a look that evokes an image of the cowboy’s lariat. Here, you can also see the ring groove that has been cut at the headstock tip for the pearl monogram inlay. More after a while...

Saturday Morning Shop

I like Saturdays. It’s quiet and nobody calls, so the workflow is uninterupted. I also like it because it’s usually when Jim comes in to help out. He’s always curious about details, so I'm usually showing him a lot of stuff I’ve taken for granted for decades. Like how to carve a neck by hand with a scraper. I refer to him as my apprentice but he’s really more like my memory exercise trainer.

Little things that come instinctually to me, like how to slightly bend the scraper, are revelations to someone on the learning curve. Jim is a quick study though. He’s good with tools, and his keen intellect allows him to see things both close-up and within the bigger picture. Most of all, he’s got the right attitude. In exchange, I get stimulating conversation and continuing education on all sorts of subjects.

With a degree in Literature and Folklore from University of North Carolina Chapel Hill, and University of Edinburgh, Scotland Jim has always tread the line between his head and his hands. He was first introduced to instrument making while doing research on dulcimer builders in the Black Mountain region of North Carolina and can’t get it out of his blood. Even when we’re talking about other things, like books, eastern religion or motorcycles, somehow it all relates to the job at hand. That’s why I like Saturdays.

 

Crow Wing Spread in Guitar Player

With about fifteen minutes to kill before our pizza was ready for pick up, my wife and I ducked into Barnes & Noble. Carla headed directly for the photography magazines while I hovered over a copy of Vintage Motorcycles. Eventually, I made my way to the music section and opened up a copy of the latest Guitar Player.

The main subject was dedicated to fuzz boxes so I was curious and hoping to see some coverage of my good friend Analogman. Before I got to the effects-pedal article I found something that stopped me dead and brought a smile to my face.

Wow! Just wow. There she was, spread out over two full pages—Rick Whittey’s epic shot of the Crow perched on a tree branch. Now, of course I knew that the editors had the shot, but I wasn’t prepared for this. Even when you pour yourself into a project like I do, you’re still happy when people “get it” and this told me that they did.

I rounded the corner of the aisle where Carla was standing and flashed the spread just to see her beautiful smile.

Thanks guys. 

 

Jol Dantzig Guitar News

Just a quick note. Thank you to everyone who has been reading, writing and encouraging me during this first year in the new shop. Special thanks to the owners of the first instrument commissions—I owe my rekindled enthusiasm for building to your stubborn insistence  that I should do what I love. The snowball has started rolling down the hill, and I'm just trying to hold on!

You may have noticed the NEWSLETTER signup fields in the left hand column. Because the blog is primarily where I write about the design and building process, there's a lot of stuff that gets left out. The newsletter is designed to capture the goings-on that aren't covered in the blog, so you'll definitely want to sign up.

Also, thanks to Kris Z who has forced me at gunpoint to interact on Facebook and Twitter (yeah, even I can't believe it) and is now spearheading the newsletter for me. He's pushing to make T-shirts and hats available, and I told him if we reach 10,000 fans on FACEBOOK I'd consider it. We're at something like 8200 so there's a good chance this will happen soon. I actually need a new hat because my Oakley endorsement ended, so maybe you'll "like" me on FB and I'll get a Dantzig hat. That would be cool.

Again, thanks for your support and interest in my work.

Ye Ancientest Bone Orchard Angels

A while ago I wrote about how my headstock design came about. I was reading a book called In Small Things Forgotten: The Archaology of Early American Life, by James Deetz. The book is a study of the archeological history of  early America (or New England) which is where I currently reside.

Chapter four entitled Remember Me as You Pass By outlines the evolution of headstones carved in Connecticut and Massachusetts  in the period between 1715 and 1829. I was struck by the author’s description of  how the symbolism used on headstones changed in step with society’s evolving ideology and notions about life, death and the hereafter.

The gravestones begin as simple markers with warnings about death, transitioning to the memorials that we are more familiar with today. The inscriptions begin to refer to the “earthly remains” alluding to the idea of a soul or afterlife being separate from the buried husk. It is interesting to note that society’s concept of the human being’s place in the universe is not static. Even today, despite our “modern” scientific arrogance, we are still evolving our understanding of what it is to be alive.

Yesterday, my casual glance came across the book. I was reminded of my earlier post and the way that chapter influenced my design. It was a gorgeous day so I decided to take a field trip to one of the early graveyards mentioned in the book.

Sandwiched behind a freeway entrance ramp and a dead end street, I found New London’s “Ancientest Bone Orchard” quiet and almost forgotten. I made my way around looking at the stonework and reading inscriptions. Just as I’d hoped, I found examples of exactly what I’d read about.

This is an early example—a winged death’s head. Note the row of scary teeth and blank eyes. Certainly a grisly warning about the end of the line.

Next is a transitional winged skull. The bottom of the nose resembles a frown as the teeth become less evident as well. 

Another skull sports crossed bones and a very prominent frown. The teeth have migrated to the bottom and appear almost as a collar.

Finally, surrounded by urns and flowers, the cherubs and angels appear around 1860. These headstones clearly are memorials as opposed to just body markers. The upturned wings, eyes and mouths signify a happier ending than the death’s heads of just half a century before.

Although tramping around in a three hundred year old cemetery isn’t my usual idea of a picnic, I was thrilled to witness the actual articles in the Deetz book. It was a sobering reminder of the transience of life. As I read the inscriptions I couldn’t help but to think of the families who have grieved at their loss. I said a few words—a kind of haiku—and moved along home.

Even though the shape of my headstock isn’t exactly the same as the headstones that helped to inspire it—I'm still hoping that it too will be remembered as people pass by.

Sakura Guitar Engraving Update

The idea for the Sakura Guitar came to me in January while at a sushi restaurant. The large bottle Sapporos may have had something to do with it. My original “napkin” sketch on dinner table set things in motion with a large cherry blossom (sakura) inlaid on the body. In other views I sketched large metal plates with engraved flowers.

As the next day arrived, the sketches still looked cool so I pressed onward. The first real step was to start a dedicated journal of drawings and notes as I played with different ideas.

Slowly, things were coming together. The more I read about Japanese history and the significance of the cherry blossom as a symbol of rebirth, the more I knew this project was going to be fun. I decided to design a motif to be engraved on steel plates for both the front and back of the guitar in the tradition of Tony Zemaitis’ work.

I cut the plates from a sheet of cold rolled steel, and then finished the edges and drilled and countersunk the mounting holes.

I didn’t want to use lasers or chemical etching, the technique that is most often seen on guitars today. I wanted the real thing—hand engraving. This technique creates a sparkle and depth that absolutely cannot be matched with shortcut methods. I wanted to raise the bar.

At first, I thought about learning engraving and doing it myself. As insane as that seems to me now, I really thought of it as an option. I’m good with tools, can draw, and have steady hands—why not? Well, the more I looked into it, the more I realized that real hand engraving was a whole career path, not something you pick up in a few days or even months. The kind of work I was looking for was something that takes a lifetime of dedication. That’s when I found Heidi Roos.

After a thirty year career as a jewelry designer and goldsmith, Heidi turned her attention to hand engraving. Recruited by renowned gun decorator Paul Lantuch in 2003, Heidi helped launch the engraving department at the legendary Sturm, Ruger & Company. Mentored by Lantuch, Heidi learned even more old world techniques that have served her (and her high-profile clients) well.

Six years ago she came to Baron Engraving in Trumbull, Connecticut where she has completed projects for celebrity customers and collectors. Her resume includes commemorative editions for Harley Davidson, Beretta and Colt, including the Centennial edition of the Colt 1911. Recently, Heidi’s shopmate Rob Bunting, engraved a custom Browning High Wall rifle which sold at auction for $143,000 to benefit the USA olympic shooting team. When I learned of Heidi’s love of Japanese art, I knew she was the only one to bring my Sakura project to life.

Yesterday I rolled over to Baron to see how Heidi was coming along with the work and I was simply floored. The level of detail is beyond what I imagined. Seeing my drawings translated to raw steel by a master like Heidi just about brought me to tears.

Here you can see her working on the branch and flower detail that sweeps around the edge of the back plate. In the center you can see the Sakura that “grows” up the center of the guitar. 

We decided to spot-plate the blossom petals with rose gold for a pink hue. At the top of the scene the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, signifying a new future or rebirth. The sun will be inlaid with 24k gold.

The idea to add some green gold to the branch and leaves came up, and we decided that done subtly it would add an entirely new dimension to the work. I just can’t wait to see the finished pieces—and this is just the back!

Sculptor’s Studio

Let’s get one thing straight—I don’t consider myself a sculptor. That said, I did find some things in common with Daniel Chester French when I visited his studio yesterday. It was a perfect New England summer day and after an hour of  pleasant driving we arrived at Chesterwood—French’s summer residence.

French is best known for his public works, most notably the nineteen-foot tall seated Abraham Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC.

Chesterwood is located just outside of Stockbridge, Massachusetts—that’s right, the same town in the Arlo Guthrie song. With the Berkshire hills as a backdrop it’s a gorgeous piece of real estate. I can’t imagine a more wonderful place to create.

I’m always interested in how artists and designers work, so touring the studio at Chesterwood was inspiring. One of the things I found most interesting was to see the workup sketches and plans that preceded the final output. Art does not happen in a vacuum. As much as any musician can improvise a song or melody on the fly, most of their work is crafted over time. As a mixture of sculpture and assemblage, guitars are also three-dimensional objects that must catch the light and shadow. A real sense of balance and composition from multiple viewpoints needs to be established in both disciplines in order to be effective.

Seeing and feeling the artist’s environment is what makes something like my trip to Chesterwood studio so satisfying. French’s use of preliminary sketches and models reminded me of the techniques I use to prepare for my builds. The Chesterwood studio displays outlined and reinforced the research that an artist or designer must conduct to bring every aspect of their creation to life.

On a purely technical level, one thing I really thought was cool can be seen in the two photos above. Most of the work done in this studio was to be displayed outdoors, where the light is very different than in the studio.  When I need to view my work in a differnt light, I pick it up and carry it somewhere. Because his work was so massive French couldn’t just take it outside to look at it. The soulution was to build a portion of the studio’s floor on a platform that rode on railroad tracks. French would open the tall doors and roll his work out into the back yard so that he could see the effect of natural light!

 

Crow Debut in Guitar Aficiondo

Many thanks to the great people at Guitar Aficionado for featuring The Crow in the new (July/August issue). The Rick Whittey photo sessions were rewarded handsomely with super-fine printing and a full page size—right up front in the book.

Writer Adam Perlmutter’s words capture the essence of the build, nailing philosophy and circumstance behind it all. Somehow it is both perfect and pretentious at the same time. I even managed to slip in the word “schmuck” when talking about marketing guys—although it actually might have been something stronger.

Go ahead, buy the issue and brush up on your wine and cheese repertoire while perusing photos of Kirk Hammett’s crib in Hawaii. If you’re feeling oh-so-rebellious—steal it. 

 

Crow Guitar Setup

With the frosted duco finish cured, I am able to continue with the assembly and setup of The Crow. Both the headstock face and the back of the guitar are hand buffed to a gloss finish with a series of compounds. The next step is to remove any residue.

The nitro was flattened five percent to give it a slightly lower gloss. It’s hardly noticeable, but gives the guitar a more vintage and “lived in” appearance. The idea is to build a guitar that already looks and feels broken in and experienced.

In this shot you can see the ivory string nut. I like this material for a lot of reasons, including its rich, grained appearance. Any tape residue on the fingerboard is removed at this point; I go over each fret with a small hand buffer to shine them up.

Once cleaned up, the electronics are fitted in through small openings in the pickup routes. The Charlie Christian pickups are mounted on stainless steel shoulder bolts from the back of the guitar. You can see the mounting holes in the photo above.

Held from behind and cushioned on on springs, the pickups do not touch the top of the guitar. This allows the top to vibrate freely while the pickups are isolated for feedback rejection. It also gives the guitar a sleek look because there is no mounting hardware in the front. Height adjustments are done with a 4mm allen wrench.

After assembly, it’s time to put a set of Pyramid Nickel Classic strings on and do the setup. First I adjust the truss rod. From experience gained in thousands of set-ups, I can pretty much guess how much bow to put in even before the strings are on. I set the bridge to a middle height and then string up the guitar. With a close approximation of the final action, I then can cut the nut slots to their final depth. Then the guitar can be tuned to pitch and all the final heights and truss rod changes can be made.

To do the intonation I used my vintage Peterson strobe tuner on The Crow. I’ve had this tuner since the early 1970s and used it at Northern Prairie and the first Hamer shop in Palatine, Illinois. Here is a photo from the very first Hamer catalog—you can see the tuner in the shot. I'm wearing a tacky madras shirt that I bought in London’s Carnaby Street in April of 1973. I believe that is Martin Barre’s Standard on the bench.

And now, here is the crow on the bench in the new Dantzig shop. Same tuner, same tech, same procedure. Thirty seven years later and I’m still at it! Just for fun we colored the photo to match the original.

 
The last step is to intonate the guitar by adjusting the bridge saddles. First I set them to the 12th fret on the bench. Then I get the guitar in the playing position and tweak it from there. If you attempt to finish it on the bench while gravity pulls straight down, it’s going to be different when you put the guitar on your leg or on a strap.

After installing the truss rod cover, which is made from black ebony with a cellulose ivoroid binding, I trim the strings neatly. I’m going to jam on The Crow for a while to break it in more, and then it’s off to the photographer’s studio for some more formal portraits. I can’t wait to show them to you.

Frosted Duco Finish Flies

Jimi Hendrix’s Machine Gun is roaring in the shop today—fitting. With the fine weather and perfect humidity, I did give ’em the gun. Four more coats of nitro on Sakura, but more importantly, The Crow got the frosted Duco black lacquer. I had to wait overnight to see the complete result, and it’s breathtaking.

Exactly as I’d hoped, the Duco finish looks like crow’s feathers, and it is different on every part of the guitar. From bold, wide crystals to small intricate patterns—it’s all there.

The next step was to carefully un-tape the masked portions and then scrape the binding clean at the right time. There’s a fine line between too soft and too brittle to scrape. Happily, I got it just right.

I use a sharp blade to scrape the black Duco lacquer off the binding. I can vary the depth of the cut with pressure and the width is controlled by the angle of the blade relative to the side of the guitar.

Special care was needed to avoid scratching the clear nitro over the binding on the sides. After I was done I went back and did some final polishing and cleanup.

There is a pleasing tactile sensation when you touch this finish—something I hadn’t thought about but am happy with. I can’t wait to get all of the parts on this sucker and fire it up. That will have to wait for a bit while the finish cures completely.

Signature Finish Guitar Hardware

I just received my first pieces of variegated nickel hardware from my buddy Dwight at TonePros. We’ve been batting ideas around for over a year, and it’s finally coming together. Based upon the traditional TOM vintage bridge, the alloys have been massaged and the finish is unique as well.

Of special interest are the tailpiece anchors. Machined from 1018 steel as per original vintage correct specs, they couple and ring out with a clarity that you don’t get from the cast pieces—or even brass for that matter. They are also the correct “long” length.

The matching tuner hardware is awesome as well. They are vintage Kluson type machines, but with a few important differences. First, the tolerances are to a more modern specification that wasn’t in the originals. Second, they are locked down from the top with a nut to secure them to the headstock. I individually fit each tuner, starting with an undersize hole. This increases stability and couples the string vibration to the head of the guitar. Here’s the test fit on a dummy neck.

I hand sand and buff each of the keys to eliminate any molding seams—this gives them a friendly feel like an old guitar. Then they are hand painted for a vintage patina. Then they are polished and fine-scuffed for a satin touch. I can’t wait to get these into the latest build. Thanks to Dwight and his crew for making this a reality.

Frosted Duco Spray

After the lengthy process to polish the cellulose tortoise binding it was just a matter of carefully taping off the parts of The Crow that would not receive the Duco.

The shop is humidity controlled, but there had been a lot of rain so I had to wait a few days to be sure. The Duco is very environment-sensitive so the temperature and humidity needed to be exactly like it was during my tests.

 
As the skies cleared and an even thirty-five percent RH was sustained. That’s the golden number—it was time to spray.

 
First step—tack cloth the entire guitar. This removes any large debris that may have settled on the surface. Then a very thorough blow-down with compressed nitrogen. I also use compressed nitrogen to spray. It doesn’t absorb water, so the spray is completely dry. It’s a little trick I learned from racing cars.

Now the moment of truth is upon us. After months of research, preparation and testing it’s time to pull the trigger. I have to admit that even after making so many guitars over the last  thirty-five years, my heart was racing a bit. Now it will have to hang and allow the paint to do its thing. As the solution dries it contracts and creates the “frosted” effect. It takes a few hours to form and dry. Hopefully all my planning will pay off.

Guitar Parts Gathering

 
As much fun as it is to scavenge for vintage parts, there comes a time when everything must be pressed into service. With the impending completion of The Crow, it’s time to gather things together and get ready for assembly.

This is one of the Jensen-made, oil-filled tone capacitors that I’ll be using. I sourced it from my friend Steve at Angela Instruments, and it’s matched perfectly to the single coil Charlie Christian pickups. The idea is to cut some of the highs but not completely kill the wonderful midrange that the pickups produce. I had the reclusive pickup guru John Grail examine the pickups and pots to help me with my decision. John has been restoring vintage pickups for the big boys since the 1960s and he really knows his stuff. True to form, he refused to be photographed.

Here’s the quartet of NOS potentiometers, the caps and the Western Electric wire I’ll be sewing into The Crow. I’ve got a few hundred of the last USA made CTS pots and John and I went through them all to find the matched set for this build.

I made a down and dirty wiring fixture from a scrap of maple that puts all the components in place while I solder everything together. Wiring this guitar  really is like building a ship in a bottle—The Crow has no opening on the back. Everything has to go through the small door in the bridge pickup route.

Everything is noted in the journal. I’ve attached some pieces of the wire and pickup insulation tape to the journal page. One of the pots was so far from tolerance that I decided to take it apart to study. When I was done with it, I glued it into the journal.

Of course, during any build like this things will change. In the journal, I’ll just cross out the old entry and make a new note with my thoughts on why the change was made.

Next up, the hardware.

 

Bound and Glorious

Now that The Crow is ready to receive its frosted Duco finish it’s time to prep the tortoise shell binding that surrounds the entire guitar. There will be no clear coats over the black finish, so I have to polish the binding and then mask it off. It’s a risky and time-consuming move, but it is the only way this will work.

The binding I’m using is made of a cellulose material made in Italy in three hundred pound blocks. It is then shaved into sheets of varying thicknesses, and I cut it into strips to suit my needs.

On the Crow, the binding is a multi-laminate built up from the faux tortoise, ivoroid and black strips. Each layer is individually heated and bent to the shape of the instrument and then glued in place. In the places where a sharp corner is reached, the binding is mitered and fit to the next piece. If you look closely you can see the corner joints that are meticulously matched.  I like the way this looks as opposed to the high-production practice of using a molded piece with no personality.

 

 The entire guitar has been shot with clear nitro, and sanded flat by hand with 600p sandpaper. It is ready to get the color coat of Duco-relica paint that I’ve mixed up, but first I have to hand polish the lacquer over the binding on the front, back, neck and headstock of the guitar. There will be no chance to buff the binding to a gloss after the Duco is appled, so it has to be done now. The polishing has to be confined to just the binding area because the color coat needs the grip for adhesion.

 

The first step is to selectively sand the lacquer over the binding using progressively finer grits of sandpaper. Then using a soft felt pad, I cautiously hand-rub the nitro clear coats using three different polishing compounds until the binding is as glossy as I want.

 

Here you can see the compound applied to the binding areas. After all the binding is polished I went  back and cleaned any residue and then prepped the entire guitar for color. The whole process took about sixteen hours.

Now the newly buffed binding will have to be masked off before spraying—back to work I go.

Testing Frosted Duco Lacquer

It is amazing how followers this blog, and The Crow Guitar build have been very supportive and encouraging. And now the time for color coats has arrived. The back will remain clear to show the flame, but now the rest of the guitar can be painted.

Months ago when I embarked upon The Crow’s journey, I had a vision of it as a living, breathing creation. As the Workshop filled with crow and Kerouac prompts, The Crow guitar became more and more alive in my mind.

Even when working on other projects, The Crow was never far from my thoughts, and its presence hovered over the shop. Friends mentioned that they were noticing crows. People sent me crow photographs and stories. A stuffed crow arrived by FedEx. 

 
I was concerned about the finish. The guitar’s construction was enough to make The Crow a singular instrument, but how was I going to finish the guitar in a way that reflected the theme completely? I knew it had to be black, but it needed something epic to convey the message visually.

One morning I spied a pair of crows in a tree above the shop—I shot a few photos and went inside. When I put the photos up on my computer screen I noticed how the light reflects off the feathers. The birds are black, and they are shiny, but it’s not an even reflection. This played right into my new obsession with lower-gloss nitro finishes. I had an idea, but it wouldn't be easy.

The Vintage Solution

From 1928 to 1941 the National company made resonator guitars from German silver (actually an alloy of nickel, zink and steel) as well as  brass and steel. Some of them were nickel plated—others were painted to imitate wood like this rare Tricone.

Others were coated with what is now referred to as the “frosted” Duco finish. This paint got its name because it dried to a texture that resembled frost on a windowpane. It was available for a short time in a few colors including a greenish gold and a clear.

The original Duco paint was made with tar camphor—the stuff mothballs are made of. It fell out of favor and was discontinued and is considered a lost process by many. I thought that if The Crow could be done in a black version of this finish it would be the perfect thing. I don't think there ever was a vintage National in Duco black, but I was convinced that it could be done. The nitro-based finish would have to made from scratch using the original recipe in order to get results.

  

Starting with a 99% pure naphthalene compound, I added the black nitro and satin flattener until I got a solution that gave me the results I was looking for. It took about three weeks of testing to get a solution that would go through the gun yet still “frost” when it dried. I found that the paint is very sensitive to temperature and the thickness of the coat. It stinks to high heaven too.

There was no way of telling exactly how it would turn out, so I shot a ton of test pieces to get a handle on how to control it as much as possible. Once I had what I wanted, I sprayed a small sample on one page of the journal I'm keeping for the guitar. 

The trick with this paint is that it can’t be topcoated with clear. Any application of finish over the Duco melts the pattern and it disappears. Once you’ve shot it—that’s it. This presents an interesting problem on how to deal with the binding. After some contemplation, I devised a plan. You'll have to check back here to see it.

Rainy Day and the Crow Journal

 The early morning is a great time to walk in the woods and clear your thoughts. Each day I carve out some time to just be outside and enjoy the quiet. Today it was raining lightly and a fog was hanging in the trees, making it look even more amazing. I’ve been stacking stones for some time now—it’s a calming practice that frees up my concentration like a reset button. The piles in this photo are just outside the shop door, but they're all over the property.

Inside, the humidity was better as the climate system struggled to maintain a solid thirty-five percent—the mandated level for optimum building. After a strong espresso, I set about making some entries into the journal that accompanies The Crow. 

My wife Carla is an artist who makes hand-bound books, so I asked her to construct the journals for my guitars. We share studio space, so it just seemed natural that our projects would overlap. Her beautiful photos and collage images are often seen on this blog as well. Here is her cover painting.

Hand-bound spine of the journal.

Archival paper is hand-stitched together to make a one-of-a-kind original that is the companion piece to each instrument I build.

This is the entry about the wiring. The story of the Western Electric wire and NOS pots from 1996 along with actual samples of the parts are all in the journal. The book tells the story—starts and stops included. When ideas are born or rejected they are written in there. I let it all spill out and the new owner of the guitar gets the whole thing.

Building the Soul: Vintage Parts

Following in the footsteps of my last post, I've unearthed more vintage electronic parts from my stash. Both the Sakura and Hell's Half Acre call for the use of three-way blade switches for pickup selection.

This is one of several early 1950s vintage “blade” switches on my bench right now. Technically this type of device is referred to as a model 1454 rotary switch. In this case the rotation, or throw, is 30º. It was used for military and communications equipment because of its reliability—being rated for a minimum of twenty-five thousand cycles. 

In this photo you can see the two patent numbers stamped into the frame. Switches made after 1953 had three patent numbers. You can also appreciate the coarse grain of the brown phenolic which was a trademark look of the older materials. Its simple mechanical construction allows me to refurbish it to a perfect working order without losing its beautiful and rich patina of age.

Salvaged from more telephone switching equipment, my piece was manufactured between 1950 and 1953 by Centralab in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Much like the Western Electric plant, rows of operators toiled at punches, riveting the pieces of metal and phenolic together. In the 1980s around the same time that Western Electric was shutting down, the switch division of Centralab was sold off  and shuttered. The buyer, Electroswitch was then acquired by ITT. The modern version of the trusty old 1454, known as E2G0203N is still made in Juarez, Mexico.

Does using vintage wire and switchgear make a guitar sound or play better? If this is what you're asking, you're missing the point. You can cover your wall with a twenty-dollar poster from Target if all you want is something to look at. If you are hoping for a deeper experience from the material things in your life, it has to come from a deeper place. 

More Vintage Americana: Salvaged Electronics

The Western Electric Company was America’s largest producer of electrical gear from 1870 until the 1980s. Known for their Bell Telephones and associated switchgear, they also manufactured amplifiers, speakers, microphones and wire. By 1917 their Hawthorne Works plant in Chicago was one of the largest manufacturing facilities in the world. Although the plant is now gone, what remains is a legacy of American manufacturing might, and a massive research project known as the Hawthorne Studies.

 
The Hawthorne Studies were something I’d read about in high school. It was fascinating, and I struggled to use it as a guide when I became a factory department-manager at age nineteen. This research named for studies done at the behemoth Western Electric Hawthorne Works factory in Chicago was the world’s most comprehensive employee behavioral observation when conducted between 1924 and 1932. The Hawthorne Works sprawled over one hundred acres, employed over forty thousand Americans and generated a staggering $300,000,000.00 per year. This is equivalent to about $3.7 billion in today’s money.

With vast amounts of capital to spend and even more to make through creating efficiencies, the Western Electric Company embarked upon an odyssey to use their employees as lab rats to determine how to make them work faster and better. The research covered all aspects of worker life too. The effects of smoking, alcohol and diet were put under the microscope in an exhaustive attempt to fine-tune Western Electric’s massive operation.

In the workplace, researchers noticed a curious thing while conducting observations. If they increased lighting levels, productivity increased. When they lowered the lighting, productivity increased as well. By the time I read the studies in 1968 it was common knowledge that when workers know they are being studied, they tend to buckle down and try to look good for the bosses. My take-away from all of this was that people just want to be recognized for their contributions. It’s not about manipulating or threatening people, it’s about appreciation.

When W.E. closed down, the assets were scattered to the winds. As part of the Federal Communications Commission’s break-up of AT&T, Western Electric was absorbed by a new entity, AT&T Technologies, in 1984. An American manufacturer was crushed.

 
As luck would have it, I managed to collect a stash of Western Electric parts manufactured in the Hawthorne facility. I’ve always been a fan of tube amplification and mechanical switching mechanisms like the ones produced at Hawthorne, and a lot of this stuff was rescued from telephone switching stations when they went digital.

Here is some vintage cloth-covered Western Electric wire that I plan to use in The Crow, Sakura and Hell’s Half-Acre. It looks great, and is made to an insanely high quality compared to the imported junk available today. Think about the incalculable amount of  energy and human conversation that has traveled through this wire. Routine or romantic calls, cries for help or joyous good news—this wire has heard it all. With its installation in a guitar, the work of the fine Western Electric employees can be appreciated again.

Old Wood for the New Hell's Half Acre

Yesterday was a good day in The Workshop. The Sakura’s finish got sanded and sprayed with new coats of nitro. I selected a nice medium weight mahogany blank for Hell’s Half Acre and began mapping out the body. Because I make guitars one at a time, I can afford the luxury of finding and using really exquisite boards—many of which have been sitting for decades.

This guitar will be a single cutaway solid body with a pair of humbucking pickups. The main section of the body will be a single slab of Honduras mahogany, with a figured maple top and back. The 8/4 billet above weighed in at fourteen pounds, but it’s going to lose well over half of that in machining.

This is what the blank looks like after a few passes through the planer. A nice clean piece, ready to get a top and back. It’s almost a shame to cover up that beautiful grain, but we'll know it’s in there, won’t we?

 

Crow Guitar Paint Prep: Does this sandpaper make my guitar look flat?

In preparation for the color coats, The Crow's base coats of nitro clear must be sanded. This is what I call leveling, because the object of the exercise is to provide a flat foundation for all that comes after. 

This is extra important on this build because I'm using an unusual color coat which won't support being top-coated with clear. To give The Crow a singular appearance, I'm replicating the 1930s frosted Duco finish. A lot of mystery surrounds this finish, and it isn't available any longer so it must be mixed up from scratch. Also, I'm doing it in black to mimic the appearance of crow feathers. I'm confident that it can be done, but for now it's time to prep.

The Crow: Charlie Christian Pickups

I'd been playing guitar for about six years when I first heard Charlie Christian. Of course, everything changed that day in 1970. It was no secret that many of my influences had been influenced by those who had come before them, but it was usually a reference to a 1950s player. My teacher, Mike Bloomfield, implored that I study Muddy. Jeff Beck went on about Cliff Gallup and Scotty Moore, and Keith Richards wasn't bashful about citing Chuck Berry. Peter Green and Clapton went on and on about B.B. King, Otis Rush and Buddy Guy. As a well-read (I thought) and curious musician, I assumed that Django and Les Paul had invented shred. Of course, hearing Charlie Christian banging out amazing single-note electric runs in 1939 set me straight. Above all, his mysteriously raw tone floored me.

 

I hadn't even realized that there were electric guitars before World War II. It made sense—big jazz bands were loud. If you've ever heard an orchestra the size of Benny Goodman's you know what I mean. Guitarists were tired of playing "strictly rhythm" and wanted to break out sax-style solos. The crude but effective technology of the day allowed guitarists to plug in, finally giving them a fighting chance. Christian was not the earliest of the adopters, but his amazing chops and visibility with Goodman's band made him the best known. Although not created for him, his guitar's pickup became associated with the man, and became known as the “Charlie Christian” pickup.

The original object of a pickup was to reproduce the sound of a guitar as accurately as possible. Electric blues, jazz and rock and roll changed all that. Players pushed their equipment to the breaking point in search of an expressive voice. To keep pace, builders rolled out new improvements. Time marched on, all but forgetting the crude, rude and singularly raw single coil that Christian first employed. 

But I never forgot. The hauntingly rough-edged tone of Christian's big single coil pickups were never far from my mind. I'd had a few over the years—usually mounted on a big-box jazz machine unfit for cranked up rock or roots music. A few pickup makers offered P-90s with a Christian-style plate on top, but I wanted the real thing. Not available. That is, until I asked my friend Seymour Duncan if he could replicate them. To my delight, he'd just finished doing exactly that. That first set went into a semi-solid guitar a few years ago, and the results were astounding. When I started thinking about The Crow guitar, I knew that I wanted those pickups in it.

 

Built to the original specifications, the CC has a fiberboard bobbin wound with unusually heavy (38 gauge) copper wire with an enamel insulation coat. The Alnico magnets are sand-cast and oriented with their north pole firing upward through a period-correct steel blade polepiece. Seymour hand-bound the top plate to match the originals as well. To add an interesting texture, I internally reversed the polarity of one pickup to create an out-of-phase middle position. Here are my notes and instructions in The Crow's journal.

  

The problem with the CC is that it was designed to be mounted from behind. The original setup involved a huge and heavy cantilever mounting bracket that hung the pickup from inside a hollow jazz guitar.

 
To solve this problem without altering the pickup, I devised a trestle that would allow the unit to be mounted and adjusted from the rear of the guitar. I had a friend make me some in his machine shop. Elliptical slots allow the pickup to be adjusted transversely for string alignment.

Once mounted inside the guitar, the pickups can be raised and lowered via a pair of hex screws counterbored into the back. This also eliminates having to use mounting hardware or bezels on the face of The Crow, which keeps the look pure. Also, because the pickup is mounted to the back, none of the pickup's weight is on the top, leaving it free to vibrate. The Crow is going to be a visually impressive guitar, and the CC pickups will give it an equally stunning voice.

 

Americanarama

Blues, jazz and rock 'n' roll is as American as the wild west cowboy. In fact, I see it all as a single continuum. Roots music, which has its origins in a buffet of American influences is never more than a few steps away from the Cowboy song. 

 
In a similar fashion, my concept for the Hell's Half Acre guitar isn't overtly kitch. Rather than a literal interpretation, using only blatant western cues, I wanted to hint at the idea in a cool way.

The trail driver's whip and lasso were as crucial as his pistol and rifle—maybe even more important. The twisted form of the rope and the braid of the whip reminded me of a half-herringbone purfling that I had lying around. Made of small parallelograms  of alternating maple and ebony, I thought it would look good against a dark chestnut or black figured maple. I made up a test block of maple on mahogany and sandwiched the "rope" between the maple and a strip of ivoroid cellulose.

The next step was to apply a dark brown stain. To avoid deep penetration on the purfling, it has been lacquered lightly.

After the stain has set, I used a small sharp to scrape the binding and purfling clean. Using my index finger as a guide I can vary the width of the scraped area by rotating the blade, being careful not to cut too deep.

Here's what it looks like cleaned up. I think it evokes the idea without being too over the top. There'll be plenty of other chances to do that on this build.

History of Hell: Cowboy Guitar

One of my biggest beefs with the corporate structure is its tendency to discount the creative process. It's impossible to say why or when inspiration will strike—and it can't be switched on like a spreadsheet on a computer. I try to be open to the things around me, but I rarely can predict when I'll be inspired to act.

An idea for a guitar came to me while reading books about the great cattle drives and the cowboys of the frontier.  I'd heard the term "Hell's Half Acre" since I was a kid—there's even a Robbie Robertson song by that name. Instinctively I knew it referred to a patch of town where society's rules did not apply for those who chose to live life on their own terms. I envisioned a guitar that evoked the spirit of the era when cowboys were just working men, and the pistol was law.

After the Texas revolution in 1835, Fort Worth was a single dusty street lined by a few dozen wooden shacks and a couple saloons. Named for a small military outpost, Fort Worth stood along the Chisholm Trail at the edge of the Indian Territories. Like frontier towns from Deadwood to Denver, Fort Worth was barely a watering hole on the plains of Texas. There was no hotel, no church, no town hall. There was no real plan to build the town or any kind of community. 

 

Then in 1866, the cattle drives came. Cattle had become the most lucrative business on the frontier. From 1866 to 1884 more than three million beeves were driven up the Chisholm Trail from King Ranch and San Antonio to railheads in Kansas; passing through Fort Worth along the way. Cowboys drove their herds up the main street and made camp to the north of town just past the Trinity River. Once settled in, the trail drivers rode back into Fort Worth for a bath, haircut and some entertainment. Industrious businessmen were only too happy to oblige, and Fort Worth began to expand and grow. By 1871 a section of the main street at the south end of town was lined with saloons offering all the vices that cowboys could ever want. The gambling, drinking and prostitution became so legendary that the district was referred to as "Hells Half Acre."

The whiskey flowed and the blood spilled as the cowboys indulged themselves like sailors on shore leave. The number of shootings and deaths was a result of lack of law enforcement combined with a town government that was more interested in commerce than any kind of morality. Indeed, a sheriff would be hard pressed to attempt any kind of intervention, and those who were arrested usually were released with not much more than a stern warning.

Even after the decline of the trail drives in the late part of the century, the businesses of Rusk Street (as it had been named) continued on, albeit at a slower pace. Declining into a black ghetto by the middle of the 20th century, Hells' Half Acre was finally razed wholesale for the construction of the Tarrant County Convention Center. Ironically, the street is now renamed Commerce Street. 

It's a great piece of American history and I've got some ideas prompted by a conversation with a collector of my work. My recent meeting with some extremely gifted gun engravers has inspired me as well, so today I'm into the shop for some experimentation. I'm glad we had this meeting.

 

 

Cherry Nitro on Sakura Guitar

Yesterday was a beautiful New England spring day—blustery and crisp. I took the time to walk around the property and allow myself to be open to all that was around me. 

 

Earlier in the day I'd spoken to my friend Tony who was in New York wrapping up a week of filming. Tony is an amazing, creative cinematographer, and it was great just to catch up and just jam on some ideas. One of Tony's favorites is photographer William Eggleston, whose work reminds us that there are no ordinary moments.

We continually and systematically narrow focus until we run the risk of becoming insensitive to the wonder of everyday life. So, in that spirit, I went out into the woods to undo my focus. It wasn't long before nature was speaking to me and I envisioned a new project. More on that in a while.

 Back in the shop I went about the job of masking off the Sakura's fingerboard edges and headstock faceplate. Those would be the only areas not painted red. The lacquer was already mixed and in the cup so it was just a matter of wiping the guitar down with cleaning solvent and tack rag before having a go.

I had the choice of laying on multiple coats to darken the color, but I chose to stop when I had a nice even coverage. The guitar had the pale hue of those time-faded SGs and Juniors that I love so much—fini.

The color is going to look great contrasting against the nickel colored plates—I love how the grain of the mahogany shows through. My feeling is that a low-gloss topcoat treatment will really highlight the metalwork rather than compete with it.

Next week I'll start building up the nitro clear coats after the color has a chance to cure. Have a great weekend everybody, and take some time to enjoy the moment.

Esoterica Electrica \ Cutting Through The Mix: Duane and Sandy

Here's a little ditty about Duane and Sandy—two American kids doin' the best they can.

via Premier Guitar

A lot of us have spent more time on the road than we'd care to remember. Some of the time it's fun, sometimes not. This is a story I wrote for Premier Guitar for all the people whose life revolves around family, friends and music. It's been a long strange trip—hope you enjoy it.

Mixing Cherry Lacquer

One of the most popular colors for guitars is red, and it's fitting that our cherry blossom guitar will be just that. There's something electrifying about a bright red instrument—guitar or otherwise. The Sakura is ready to be colored, so it's time to mix up the color. I'll use a coat of red transparent lacquer (referred to as a shader) which I mix using a concentrated tint. The first step is to measure out enough natural (clear) nitrocellulose lacquer into a cup.

Nitrocellulose lacquer is a quick-drying, solvent based coating that was developed in the early part of the twentieth century. Basically made from cotton cellulose, chemical solvents and various additives, it differs from the ancient Chinese and Japanese lacquers in both substance and in the technique used to apply it. Known as a thermoplastic, it reacts to heat, cold and solvents. Nitro bonds to previous applications by melting the surface of previous coats. As the solvent escapes over time, the hard cellulose material is left behind as a coating. Nitro is revered for its luxurious look and feel, and has been associated with the finest guitars of the last century. Nitro can be buffed to a gloss, but it never looks plastic or overly glossy, which gives a guitar an elegant sheen and depth.

The tint that I use is made from a powder mixed with solvent. This creates a super-concentrated dye called a toner. Just a few drops of this stuff is all that is needed—you can see how dark the color is in the squeeze bottle.

Now I use a squeegee  to "draw down" a streak of the color on a test piece of mahogany. The first test was just the cherry red color. I added some amber and blue to the mix and drew those down too in order to get the exact color I wanted.

 

 Nitro lacquer is slightly yellow, and as it ages it yellows even more. This is what gives vintage instruments their glow, but it also means that the color I mix will not be the final shade. Keeping this in mind, I stop short with the yellow. When the color is exactly what I want, the mix is complete.

Now the shader is ready to be applied over the base coats already on the guitar. Although there is a definite place for staining or painting directly on the wood, sometimes I like to "float" the color. Layering the color between sets of top and base coats is my secret to adding depth to a finish. Here, I'm pouring the color into the spray gun cup, it's showtime!

Finalizing Sakura Guitar Engraving Drawing

While The Crow guitar is drying there are plenty of other projects to do. The Sakura guitar has been sprayed with its base coats and is waiting for color, so I decided to get myself in gear and finish up the drawings for the engravers. 

This is the detail for the back of the guitar showing the hard detail around the edge as well as the full tree in the center area. The entire plate will be nickel plated with the flower petals spot plated with rose gold. At the top of the drawing the sun is peeking through the clouds—representing a new day dawning. My plan is to plate the sun with 24 carat gold. 

This is a study that I've done using my drawings. The cherry red color on the mahogany will look great against the nickel-plated parts. I can't wait to get the engraving going.

The entire theme of Japan and renewal is most poignant in light of the horrible disaster there. I've decided to donate the entire proceeds from the sale of The Sakura to relief efforts in Japan. I just need to determine the most appropriate charity to work with—I'll be writing more about this in the weeks ahead.

Tweedy Guitar Case for The Crow

For readers of this blog, the idea that The Crow would travel in a tweed suitcase inspired case will come as no surprise. Although tweed-covered cases are a vintage stalwart, the connection here is double deep. I first made the association while reading Kerouac's On The Road. Carla and I were on a road trip of our own when she photographed me holding my 1940s vintage suitcase. I'd found this beautiful relic in a shop in New Hampshire and just had to have it. It wasn't until I saw the photo below that I fully connected the dots.

Crows are scavengers, messengers and harbingers. Like Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty, crows traverse the landscape living on their instincts. The hoboes take to the rails as the crows take to the sky—searching for tomorrow's answer and a meal. When I saw the photo of the suitcase, I knew that my guitar had to have a case that incorporated this spirit.

  

My search for the correct vintage tweed covering came up short. After being assured by phone that the material was an exact duplicate of the lacquered tweed that was used on both vintage luggage and guitar cases (not to mention amplifiers) my material arrived looking pale, sallow and somewhat less than authentic. The only thing to do was to lacquer and age it myself. I cut a few pieces into sample swatches and started mixing up some amber and brown tinted nitro lacquer.

I started the process slowly, wanting to use as little tint as I could. It took about a half day to get it exactly the way I wanted it—the balance between the number of coats and the yellow to brown ratio. I was almost there, using the actual suitcase as my guide. Finally, a little bit of indigo tint got it just right. That's the final swatch on the bottom left. Now it's a matter of spraying out all the material after it is cut to fit the case. The lacquer color and sheen will make it look like it's already lived a lifetime of adventure on the road. When it's done maybe I'll drag it up to the old farm for a portrait.

 
 

“Super Moon” and Sanding Lacquer

Much was made of the so-called super moon a few weeks back. Out here in the woods, most every appearance of the moon is pretty super looking. I did go outside the shop and shoot a few photos of the event as the moon peeked through the trees.

I'd forgotten about the photos until last night when I was sorting through the desktop looking for something else. When the image popped up on my screen I was immediately struck by the emotional feel and how it related to The Crow guitar. Can't you just see a huge black crow flying under that moon? Maybe when the guitar is complete I'll stick it up there and take a photo.

Today I'm leveling the first lacquer coats on The Crow, and spraying the first coats on Sakura. Using a hard rubber block, I'm sanding with 400 grit paper. The first level is the most important because it is the foundation for everything else. I like to take my time and I always follow the exact same pattern.

 
Once I'm done, it's time for my signature on the headstock faceplate. The plate is made of black ebony, and no color will be used on it because I like the grain and streaks of color to show through. 

Here's a look at the carved maple back with the black stain. When the guitar is finished, this and the ebony headstock face will be the only transparent areas. I like the idea of a little surprise on the back of the guitar.

Basecoats and Bonamassa

Yesterday was a beautiful New England day—the kind that makes you want to play hooky even when you've got a great job like mine. As soon as the stained back on The Crow was thoroughly dry I taped up the fingerboard, masked the f-holes and got it into the paint room for its first coats of nitro.

Just a few coats first to raise the grain on the spruce top, and to tie to the filled mahogany. This process goes pretty fast as the nitro flashes off quickly. After the tie coat, the top gets scuffed, and then it's time for three solid coats.

Each coat gets thirty minutes to dry, then I repeat the pattern. After three coats I hung it up to dry for three days. Now it was time to take advantage of the nice sunny day. I threw a few things into the car and headed off to Worcester, Massachusetts to see some old friends who were playing there.

An hour and thirty minutes later I walked through the back door and onto the stage of the Hanover Theater. Just inside I found Gav, with one of Joe Bonamassa's Les Pauls in hand. We quickly took a tour of Joe's rig and guitar arsenal, which was housed in probably the largest guitar trunk in history. I didn't really know too much about Joe Bonamassa before Gav started working for him, but I was getting the idea that he's a serious guitar man.

Sorry for the crappy cell phone photo, but I think you get the idea. Ninety-six inches wide and it needs to be licensed in sixteen states. I was wondering if it had its own HVAC unit and zipcode.

We spent the afternoon hanging out with Joe and the band, looking at gear and swapping stories. I was happy to realize that Carmine Rojas was in the band—we hadn't seen each other in a long time. We passed some time leaving messages on mutual friend's voice mail and catching up a bit. I also had the chance to spend some time with Alan Phillips who makes the Carol-Ann amplifiers that Joe uses. Alan is a knowledgeable and unassuming guy who really has a passion for what he does—and the amps he builds certainly prove it.

Joe had recently acquired a real 1959 LP Sunburst, and he uses it every night, just as it was made to be. This guitar is wired out of phase in the middle position, exactly like the Peter Green/Gary Moore guitar. As far as I know, this wasn't available as an option back in the day, so it must have been a mistake. I didn't bring my magnetic tool in order to determine if it was a magnet reversal or a wiring mistake inside the pickup—that's for next time. Oh, and Joe sounded amazing all night.

 

The Electric Crow

After a couple of gloomy days that saw a few inches of snow fall, the sun is breaking through again. Of course the sunshine makes us feel better and the workshop is humming with electric activity. The Crow guitar is sanded and ready for its first coats of nitro clear. I've stained the figured maple back with a black transparent stain that I think will go nicely with the main finish that I have planned.

While the stain is drying, I'm collecting all the electronic parts that I want to use. This build will feature authentic recreations of the Charlie Christian pickups, which my good friend Seymour has created in his lab. The Christian pickups are completely different from any other type, and the resulting tone is incredible. Here are my notations in the Crow's journal—I'm including a scrap of the #42 wire as well. 

 

I use a unique mounting trestle machined from 6061 aluminum. Here's my drawing of the part that will go into the journal. I had a friend down the road help me machine the parts on his Bridgeport. The oval mounting holes will allow the pickups to be adjusted transversely relative to the guitar's center line. Stainless steel hex socket screws will allow height adjustment from the rear of the instrument, keeping the front of the guitar clean and uncluttered.

This is the resulting part which will be attached to the bottom of the pickup. 

Gotta get back to the paint room and start spraying.

 

Guitar Hardware from Scratch

After completing the strap buttons and switch tip made from buffalo horn, attention now turns to the rest of the hardware. The Crow will be fitted with variegated nickel finish metal parts, so I was thinking now about the control knobs. Amber speed knobs seemed like a good bet, but the match to the rest of the guitar seemed less than perfect. One consideration was Daka Ware 1930s bakelite knobs. The brown color and retro look was classic Charlie Christian, so they seemed like a good possibility.

I found some in my parts vault and laid them out on a black background and wasn't impressed. They'd probably be good on a tobacco sunburst guitar.

I've always loved the clear plastic lap steel knobs from the 1940s, so I thought that I could make my own based on an original one. The precursor to the "speed" knob, they were slightly taller and not tapered like modern knobs. They were painted gold or sometimes silver underneath, but I just wanted one for a model. A fairly exhaustive search only turned up a few knobs for sale, and those were in really rough shape. I called a few friends in the vintage trade, but no luck. Finally, I found one in almost new condition—amazing for sixty-plus year-old plastic. Needless to say, it didn't come cheap.

My idea was to make some replicas in clear acrylic and maybe paint them underneath with slver. The lack of color would help mimic The Crow's reflective finish without detracting from it. The first step was to make some molds from a pourable silicone material. This entails pouring the silicone over the original knob allowing it to cure for twenty-four hours. The result was very good so I made a few more, including a two-piece mold just for backup.

This is what the mold looks like when fully cured. The next step was to mix up some casting acrylic in a cup. The amount of  catalyst is determined by the total thickness of the part, and I'd have about ten minutes to get it into the mold.

By pouring the first of the material into the center recess I was avoiding any trapped air which would cause bubbles in the finished part.

After another twenty-four hours, it was time to pull the part from the mold and see how it looked.

Not bad for a first try, but it was obvious that I was going to have to sand and polish the part to get it to look like the original. I went ahead and made about another seven parts in order to experiment. I mixed some color into the liquid on a few just to try it, but it wasn't a good result.

Once I figured out how to sand and polish the molded knobs (using the trusty drill press again) I also tried painting some of the knobs with chrome, silver and copper paint. In the end, it was the fully clear versions that I liked the best.

Here's the finished knob, polished up and sitting on my desk. I really like the way it catches the light—like a crow's feathers. I think they are going to look great on the guitar, and the fact that they are not off-the-shelf parts makes me happy too.

I think I've found my "signature" look.

Headstock Monogram Inlay

The Dantzig headstock design came fairly quickly. I'd been reading about the history of New England at the time, and was struck by some headstone carvings described in the book. I blogged about it here.

This is the entry in The Crow's journal—you can see the idea taking shape.

With The Crow guitar, I wanted the monogram "D" at the tip of the head to be inlaid mother of pearl. I have some nice chunks that are about .070" in thickness, and large enough to do the circle in one piece. The thickness will help avoid breakage when cutting the piece which is very delicate.

The first step was to clean up my sketch and commit it to a paper template. Then I could glue the template to the pearl and begin my cut with saw. Most times, I use a powered jigsaw, but this piece is so complicated I decided to use the hand saw. I'm using an extra-fine blade (.009") so patience is imperative. The work is backed up on a .125" thick piece of maple with a slot cut in it for clearance. The inner cuts are made by using a micro-drill to put a starter hole in the pearl; then inserting the saw blade through and into the handle.

Once the cuts are made, I can use a set of miniature files to smooth out the edges. The finished monogram looks good. It needs to be clean because the headplate is unpainted ebony; so there is no way to hide the edges.

The monogram has also been repeated on the headplate. Here it is on the overhead router. There is a matching template to follow, and by using a .020" micro-mill bit, I can get very close to final fit—the last adjustments being done by hand with an air powered mini tool that is similar to a dentist's drill.

Here's the headstock with the pearl inserted and some of the binding in place. I like how the white ivoroid purfling stripes terminate in a blend to the top of the monogram's circle. The rest of the treatment will be my signature in the center of the headstock. After all, it is a "signature" guitar.

 

 

Guitar Obsession Syndrome

Obsession. It permeates everything in my life. Once an idea begins to make itself known, I get my mental teeth on it like a moray and won't let go. In order to make some sense of my thoughts, I rely on the board. Not the board of directors—that's where great ideas get watered down in order to appeal to the largest audience. I call mine the obsession board. It's an entire wall in my office where anything and everything is fair game. I answer only to my imagination.

 As you can see, my recent jag on Karouac and The Crow guitar as a representation of the American dream's underbelly has really sprouted wings.

The board is a compilation of key words and images that help me connect the dots both while planning and building an instrument. Free association as well as studied theory mingle with hard data and a laundry list of materials and processes. If it occurs to me, it gets written down, and I try not to erase anything. You can never tell when an old idea will become a solution.

Of course, sometimes this madness even creeps into my dreams. Being surrounded by imagery creates subconcious thoughts, which I then turn back into new imagery. Here's my interpretation of Crow Dream #2.

It's time to go cut some pearl for the headstock monogram inlay. See you next time.

 

In Small Things Remembered

With the main components of The Crow guitar completed, I spent some time getting the ancillary parts assembled. My Signature Guitars each have a singular theme and I want the parts of the guitar not only to be appropriate for the build, but to be unique as well. The binding on the guitar is an Italian cellulose "faux" tortoise shell, backed by an off-white ivoroid purfling, so I wanted something that would match. Off the shelf parts proved to be a disappointment so I decided to make my own. I'd located some Asian Buffalo horn pieces that were stained a deep amber brown, so I thought that making some of the parts from it was worth a try.

A lathe is on the shop wish list, so I had to use a drill press for the meantime. Here I'm using a file to rough out what will be a strap button. I started with a piece cut to approximate size and rounded enough to get into the chuck.

Once I get the shape, I cut off the button just under the flange and then sand everything smooth down to 2500 grit. The next step is to drill a hole for the mounting screw that will hold it onto the guitar.

I'm going to thread it only slightly, relying on some Devcon for the ultimate bond. I also decided to put a small abalone dot in the center, this matches the side markers on the fretboard.

The switch tip for the pickup selector should follow the theme, so I turned a shape I liked on my makeshift lathe, using finer files as I go.

Center drilling required the fabrication of another set of wooden "clamps", and after finishing that I used a bottoming tap to put the proper threads inside the hole.


The last step was to use a progression of buffing compounds to bring it to a finish that would compliment the rest of the hardware.

The tip really looks great on the switch and it adds to the exclusivity of the build.



The result is a matching set of buttons that are unique not only to this guitar, but cannot be bought from any supplier. That's all in keeping with the idea behind each signature guitar I build. 

Metal for Sakura Guitar

Work continues on the metal plates for the Sakura guitar. The task of making the pieces has taken the better part of three days but they are looking great. 

The pickup adjustment will take place directly from the top plate, so they needed to be drilled along with the control holes. Around the edge the mounting screw holes needed to be countersunk.

After smoothing the edges and drilling, a brushed finish is put on the metal before it is to be nickel plated and engraved.

I had the foresight to cut a second top plate because I'd been talking to a client about another guitar that would use one. It's a guitar that I'm calling "Hell's Half-Acre" and I can't wait to get going on it. Stay tuned!

Taking a Break

What a difference a few days can make here in New England. My last post was about being locked down by the snow, but now it's sunny and (relatively) warm. Accordingly, I took a few hours out of the day to stack up what will hopefully be the last of this winter's firewood.


It was a bright, crisp afternoon—the kind that makes you feel great to be alive and privileged just to be outdoors. I worked at a steady pace piling up the logs, breathing deep and stopping every so often to look at the trees and sky. Just a few steps away was our suet feeder, which attracts larger birds. As I labored, wrens, bluebirds and thrushes flitted back and forth from the nearby trees to the feeder. A noisy group of three downy woodpeckers alternated with the bluebirds and wrens for a shot at the food. At one point I grabbed my camera and got a photo of a bluebird patiently awaiting his turn while a male downy woodpecker feasts.

Once the last of the firewood was stacked I went inside to finish up the drawings for the cherry blossom guitar. The shape of the front and back plates had been finalized so it was time to cut them out of steel. My first step was to make paper templates from my drawings so I could check the shapes with the actual guitar parts.

Then it was time to get medieval on a sheet of .059" CRS. I had a piece that was just big enough for two sets of plates, and with a little luck I'd be able to cut them without problem. This thickness will allow the engraver to go deep without denting or puckering the plates. I chose steel because of its magnetic properties. Aluminum is fine for laser or chemical etching, but it messes with the inductance of the pickups in a way that isn't as kind as copper or steel. Besides, I'm going with hand engraving—steel will yield better detail.

Here I am checking the overall fit before drawing out the shapes on the metal.

Using some spray adhesive, I fix the templates to the sheet so that I can trace the outlines with a scribe. I want to get the material into more managable pieces. 



 After transferring the shapes, I roughed out the blanks with an air shear—not my first choice of tools, but it works. This gets me close enough so that I can finish the parts on the bandsaw and then the spindle sander. which is a job for another day.

 

Morning (Guitar) Visions

More snow.
Fuzzy white branches like tarantula legs of soft snow blanketing my view from the morning window. Otherworldly and calming.

Sipping my espresso, black and deep, while I let my subconscious wander in the reservoir of guitar experience and memory. It is my process.

The notebook, pen, coffee and guitar. What more do you need?

 
A black crow silhouette on the evergreen above the shop.

Why am I sharing this process? Why not just post photographs of finished guitars—shiny and proud?

In the words of Martina Navratilova, a consummate athlete who won fifty-four Grand Slam tennis titles, "the moment of victory is much too short to live for that and nothing else." When someone who knows what it is to cross the finish line first says this, I imagine she knows a thing or two about how to get there.

So, this is the quiet time when I let my thoughts spill out onto the paper. I am living for the moment I am in.

I am reminded of Kerouac's "Method." 

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for your own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside your own house
4. Be in love with your life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is

 

Carving a Niche: Crow Guitar Neck Shaping

The snow has let up for a while, which means we can get back to making more cool stuff instead of raking snow off the shop roof for the third time. I wasn't really too worried about collapse, but it was a good excuse to go out and play with big-boy tools in the snow. Out here in the woods it's really beautiful and the morning light on the trees takes your breath away.

I've always marveled at how guitarists find it perfectly acceptable to take a brand new instrument to their tech for a setup. In my opinion, a guitar that needs fretwork out of the box wasn't made properly in the first place. 

It's been six weeks since The Crow's neck and fingerboard were bonded together—just the right amount of time to do the final relief on the back of the neck. The idea is to let the neck twist or move completely before you radius the fretboard. I'd done a study of neck twisting years ago, and the results were quite interesting. I used two groups of ten necks—one in the shop and the other in a controlled environment. Every day I used a vernier clinometer to measure the amount of twisting that had occurred, and the data was put into a spreadsheet. Just to make sure that the results were correct, I repeated the same test six months later. Same conclusion.

All of this was to put some real numbers to what I'd speculated all along by the seat of my pants. It all comes down to a sort of actuarial exercise depending upon how much risk you want to take with your guitar. There is a point where the risk of a twisted neck becomes "acceptable" compared to how many warranty claims you're willing to remedy. In the case of a guitar I make today, the risk I'm willing to take is zero—so I go for the full maximum time. That means that the neck and fingerboard assembly will sit on the shelf  for the full eight weeks. This is the true point of diminishing returns as far as I'm concerned—and the data backs it up.

Now that we're at the six week point, I take the neck down to its final shape using a cabinet scraper and then sandpaper. At this point the "normalization" process is almost complete. The fingerboard is still flat, and that's the secret to the whole thing. In two more weeks, after all the twisting has finished, I'll cut the final radius on the fingerboard. Because the wood has done all the moving that it's going to do, the playing surface will stay true for the life of the guitar. An added bonus is that I won't have to "true" the frets, which is really just "truing" the neck called by another name.

 

 

Weighing In on the Subject

Now that the major components of the Crow guitar have been glued up, I continue to work on the Sakura project. The drawings for the metal plates and the guitar itself have progressed to the point where I can start to cut the material. 

The body will be a single florentine cutaway made from a single slab of Honduras mahogany. My mental vision of this instrument dictates a somewhat heavier weight than what is "popular" right now. I'm a big fan of lightweight guitars, but I've heard dozens of beefy guitars, and there's just something about them that I like as well. In order to tailor the Sakura (or any of my guitars for that matter) I cut the body material into a standardized block to determine its relative weight.

Here I'm weighing a group of likely candidates in order to pick one that will achieve the weight and sound I'm looking for. That's my trusty Pelouze scale that's been with me since high school! I worked at the Pelouze factory in Evanston, Illinois when I was in my teens and this was a "factory second" that was given to me by my supervisor. For you Hamer guitar history fans, this was also the scale that was used in Hamer's shipping department right up through Arlington Heights. If you own a USA made Hamer guitar made before 1997, it's probably been on this scale. Luckily, I saved it from the dumpster after it was deemed "outdated" and with a little internal tinkering I made it work again. I guess that job at Pelouze has paid off more than once.

Now that I've got the sketches done, it's time to lay things out in actual size. I like to use the real components to visualize the ergonomic and esthetic relationships of the final design. I've always done it this way—here's a photo of me in the old Arlington shop designing Paul Stanley's double neck the exact same way.

 About ten years ago I learned AutoCad, and find it useful in a production environment; but I would still draw everything by hand first to see things in real space. In this case, I won't need to create tool paths for CNC routers so the drawing and a few paper templates will be as far as I take it. 

A Crow Reminder

Monday morning, and we're back in the shop ready to take on a slew of new stuff. Over the weekend I was reminded of The Crow guitar when I saw Jim Carroll's last novel, The Petting Zoo. I like to read on the airplane, and a friend offered me the book for the trip home. Right there on the cover was a big black crow.

Carroll is best known for his autobiographical book, The Basketball Diaries, which of course was later made into a film starring Leonardo DiCaprio. More than just a celebrated junkie; Carroll's work in poetry, prose and music spanned over forty years of ups and downs, from New York's lower East Side to San Francisco.

As a singer and songwriter, Carroll burst onto the world stage with his 1980 release Catholic Boy, and its single People Who Died. That song has been covered by quite a few artists, including the Drive-By Truckers. Carroll himself died at age sixty from a heart attack—reportedly while working at his writing desk  in New York, in 2009. Such a loss.

Seeing the book made me think of when I'd played with Carroll on Back to the Streets, a tribute a tribute to Don Covay, many years ago. It was a cover of  "Long Tall Shorty" and it's not what you'd expect from Jim Carroll. He was a fan of Covay's work, and I think it's a good track from a very interesting guy. The rhythm guitar is a Strat into a Vox AC 30 and for lead I used a Chaparral straight into a 50 watt Marshall, you can listen to it here. (Don't forget to pause the Jukebox player in the right hand column first).

I'm going to put on some Jim Carroll music, and get back to work.

Snowy Sakura Guitar Morning

Sweaty and breathing a little hard, I stamped the snow off my boots and leaned the shovel against the barnboard of the workshop. It was a beautiful Winter morning, so I paused for a moment to drink it all in and fill my lungs with the crisp fresh air. 

The sun was breaking coldly through the trees just above the horizon—making the icicles glow with a pinkish light. Turning inside, I was greeted by the Bakersfield boys streaming from the sound system. Don Rich's sweet twang had segued into AC/DC by the time I had my coat off.

Yesterday, the interior carves were finished on The Crow guitar. I'd gotten the spruce top and maple back glued up  and it was still in the vacuum press. As tempted as I was to take it out—I resisted. The Sakura guitar had been the subject of my dreams and I wanted to put some ideas down on paper before they slipped away. I got some books on Japanese art out of my library for reference. The basic idea fell right into place.

Here's a quick look at what I'm thinking. In my dream, the guitar was heavy like a '60s Les Paul, with that banging midrange that sounds so wonderful through a Marshall stack. I'd dropped the idea of an elaborate body inlay, and wanted to concentrate on the engraved front and back plates. The first step was to consolidate my overall design in a series of sketches in the journal that will accompany the guitar through its construction. I like to think of this as building the soul of the guitar.

As requested, here are some closer views of the journal.

This is my sketch of the cherry blossoms, which will be engraved on the metal plates. Check back in a few days to see more progress.

Tossing the Bass into the Chipper

It's early, and Pete Townshend's "Give Blood" is reverberating through the shop. No one is working, but not because of laziness. Every time I hear this song it just stops me in my tracks because Pino Paladino's bass playing is beyond sublime. Most people probably think they are hearing a synthesizer workout—but they're not. Palidino used a low octave effect on his bass. The whole song is one magnificent bass solo—listen to that hand vibrato on his fretless! Good God, it makes me want to throw my bass in the chipper and become a hermit. Oh wait, I already did that.

Years ago I worked with Paladino, designing a fretless bass, and he was a complete gentleman to work with. He showed me the MXR harmonizer that he used to get his sound—he didn't think it was a big deal. Of course, when I played through his rig it certainly wasn't.

So, turn up your computer and behold the genius that is Pino Paladino. And now we return to work—striving to be as good at our craft as Paladino is at his..

 

For those of you who can look past the JM Content there is this:

 

Cherry Blossom Guitar

Although we're taking some time off from the shop, my mind is always open to my surroundings. My wife and I were enjoying a nice sushi dinner when my eyes fell upon the traditional cherry blossom motif—one that I'd seen thousands of times before. This time it was different—maybe it was the wine. Inspiration comes from any number of places if you are open to the world around you.

 

Sakura. The cherry blossom is a symbol of Life and creates a balance in the Yin/Yang energies of Chi, bringing harmony and success. A great sentiment for the new year, and it appealed to me in a deep fundamental way.

 

I took out my pencil and began to sketch an idea that I saw in my mind. Engraved cherry blossoms of gold and silver on a cherry-colored guitar. I've always been a fan of Tony Zemaitis, but never found it to be anything I'd want to do myself; but somehow it seemed appropriate for my vision. I love working with metal and wood together, so I couldn't wait to get back to the workshop.