The Guitar Designer's Workshop

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.

 

Crow Guitar Neck Assembly

The slower you put things together, the slower they fall apart.
—John Grail

With the holidays upon us, I wanted to get some things done in order to take advantage of the break. Typically, I let complete neck blanks set for eight weeks after the fingerboard has been glued on.  This allows the neck components to take a set before the fingerboard radius is machined. It's better to let it warp or twist first and then machine it straight than to let it change afterwards.

In this photo, I'm cutting a length of cold-rolled 3/16" steel rod to the prescribed length, before threading each end with a die.

I use a 1/2" diameter hex rod cut to a length that puts it just under the fingerboard for the anchor end. After drilling and tapping a through hole, I insert the 3/16" rod and screw it tight before mig welding both sides. 

 

Good penetration is important because the last thing we want is for the weld to let go once the neck is built.

Getting a solid weld without making too big a blob is the order of the day. Here, I'm cleaning up the weld with a file to make sure it clears the slot. Now it's ready to go into the blank.

 

While I've been making the rod, Jim has bonded the ebony faceplate on the headstock and is using a plexiglass template made from my drawing to mark the rough headstock outline for reference.

 

Sharp corners are usually where cracks start, so to reduce any chance of cracking along the rod channel, I use a rounded cutter to put a radius in the bottom of the truss rod groove. After coating the rod with paraffin, Jim slides the rod through the adjustment hole and taps the anchor down with a mallet and dowel. A spline of mahogany cut from the same piece as the neck blank is used to seal the rod into the slot before the fingerboard goes on.

 

I've designed an inlay that I call "Claw" and fitted it at the 12th fret. It's a combination of mother of pearl and green abalone—seven pieces in all. This is done before the fretboard is glued to the neck blank. 

 

Here's the fretboard dry fitted to the neck before bonding. The rest of the fret markers are two different sizes of pearl dots for a clean sophisticated look. The final taper of the neck includes the space for fingerboard binding

It's only a matter of spreading the glue and getting the whole assembly into the clamps. After that we can head home to our families, while time does what man cannot.

 

 

 

Vintage Marshall Resurrection

I love the look of a proper vintage Marshall stack. After playing various combo amps in the 1960s, graduating to a blackface Fender Bassman and then to a Vox AC 50, I was staggered by the sheer presence of the 100 watt full stack when it arrived upon the scene in 1965. Equal parts audio device, stage backdrop and weapon of youthful enthusiasm, it was a statement which stood alone from all that had come before. I bought my first one in 1968 and added a second in 1969. You haven't really lived until you've stood on stage in front of two wide-open full stacks. Since then I've collected quite a few more—a number of which are in need of some repair.

So, while I was down in Nashville Jim took it upon himself to finish a project I'd started in 1985—I guess he figured it was about time. Many moons ago I'd rescued an original "plexi" 100 watt stack from the rehearsal room of a '80 era metal band where it sat forlorn and neglected. Its owner had "graduated" to a nice little fifteen space rack full of solid-state gizmos and no longer wanted the towering relic. "It's too clean, and doesn't sustain" he'd told me. "My new rig sounds more like a record anyway." To prove his point he danced on the rack's pedal board and then fired off eight bars of 64th notes at about 120 bpm—holding the last one for ten seconds of whammy-bar gymnastics. For $300 the Marshall was mine, I didn't even bother to turn it on.

When I got it home, I inspected it, cleaned some corrosion, checked some voltages and then plugged in my guitar. Score! The amp was fine but the cabinets had seen better days. They started life as a matched pair of metal-handle, salt-and-pepper grille 100 watt cabinets; and as good as they sounded they now needed cosmetic help. Somewhere along the line someone decided that they'd sound better without the original grillecloth and they had added period incorrect white logos. The straight cabinet had indeed been re-grilled with a low-budget fabric better suited for sheer curtains. From ten feet away it looked OK. An added bonus was the screaming highs that were now free to stab your ears without impediment—awesome, dude!

If you've never taken an old Marshall cabinet completely apart and re-assembled it before, you'll soon find your first attempt can be a struggle on par with splitting an atom. The second cabinet showed that the previous owner had learned quickly from his experience with the first. Apparently, after Einstein finished the first grille cloth conversion he had a better idea for the slant cab. Out came the carpet knife, and in about three minutes that ugly old vintage grille was gone without even having to look at a screwdriver. They say genius comes in threes (or is that bad luck?) so Mr. Brainiac's next step was to staple some hardware cloth (chicken wire) over the speakers. A little flat black spray paint and the whole heavy metal universe was in balance again. (Cue devil horns here).

So, while I was away, Jim methodically disassembled each cabinet and removed every stitch of cloth and every staple—the man has patience. The whole affair took the better part of three days, which is why I'd put it off so long.

Here's the front baffle with the remnants of the original grille. Note the vertical orientation of the white stripes.

Along the way, Jim found a piece of broken beer bottle embedded in the tolex—a testimony to its long tenure playing in bars I guess.

Inside, greenback 25 watt Celestions with original wiring. Some people like the even lower wattage Celestions, but when they get this old I'm happy for the small bit of extra headroom when only using one cabinet. Age will provide plenty of sag and the dense woven grille is an effective high frequency filter.

Next, a roll of NOS Marshall grille cloth that I'd squirreled away twenty five years ago came out of hiding, looking great. I had just enough for two cabinets.

The first order of business is to lay out the grille in the proper direction—the North-South orientation determined by the white threads. If you get it wrong the finished job will look weird when placed next to a correctly placed one.

Using one of the bold white threads as a guide, Jim starts the folding over and stapling in one upper corner, continuing down and across being careful to keep the thread aligned on the edge. He's got to stretch the material as he goes to get the proper tension. I've heard some people say that if the cloth isn't tight enough when you're done it can be wetted to make it shrink, but we'd previously tested this with a scrap of the new cloth and found it didn't do a thing.

After finishing the top and side edges, Jim stretched the cloth and tacked it down using the vertical threads to align it as he went. The next step was to replace the damaged white piping and then slide the baffle into the cabinet. Jim made sure to tap it home with a dead blow hammer before replacing the screws.

With the baffle locked down it was just a matter of refitting the speakers with the wire harness and putting the back on the cabinet. It was also a chance to replace any stripped screws as needed.

The last touch was scrounging up some NOS gold logos from my box of parts. The originals were brittle plastic that broke easily—you'll often see period photos of bands with mangled logos. After a while, Marshall got wise and started making them out of a more durable nylon type material that flexed rather than broke. My NOS are the brittle kind with gold on the front. While he was at it, Jim replaced some sketchy knobs on the head.

Original wheels are almost impossible to find in decent shape, but I have a stash of suitable impostors that are tall and thin like the real ones, so they'll have to do until we unearth some originals.

Restored to their former glory, it was time to roll 'em into the "Tone Pit" next to the other amps in my office arsenal. This is the place where I evaluate every nuance of the instruments I build so I've got a wide variety of amps in there.

Now, the Dantzig Tone Pit finally has its proper pair of half-stacks—what a nice surprise. Thanks Jim.

 

 

Nashville Cats: Steve Cropper Tribute to the "5" Royales

Late last week, I left Jim to his own devices in the shop as I took a sojourn to Nashville to do some studio time. Generations of musicians have grown up with Steve Cropper's trademark licks as the soundtrack to their lives, so when producer Jon Tiven invited me to participate in the making of Cropper's new recording, a tribute to the "5" Royales, I couldn't say no.

The Royales were a seminal R&B group who bridged the gap between Doo-Wop, Soul and Funk. Their guitarist, Lowman Pauling, wrote most of the hits, and was a madman on guitar—so I understood where Cropper was coming from. I anticipated a good time, but it was only when I arrived in Nashville that I realized the true magnitude of the undertaking. As an unforeseen bonus, the recording was being done in Dan Penn's studio. If you're not familiar with Penn's career, do yourself a favor and follow the link—very cool stuff.

When we arrived at the studio, Cropper had already unloaded his silverface Quad Reverb and Billy Block was dropping off a drum kit for Steve Ferrone, who would play on the first day. Bassist David Hood was on hand and he and I immediately started talking bass-player trash.

What a thrill to sit and watch this guy track—a master class in restraint and note choice. Although he'd brought four instruments including a '57 P-Bass, David was tracking with a pink Jazz Bass made in Chicago by Lakland. When I asked him why he chose to use it he said "it was just the first one I took out."

As one of the Muscle Shoals "Swampers" Hood was one of my teachers through the grooves in vinyl, and here I was in the studio with him. As the session began to roll Billy Block and I busied ourselves with the video and audio equipment. I was soaking it up, learning a few new tricks along the way.

Keyboard chores were handled by Spooner Oldham, who is a legend in his own right. Knowing when not to play is the test of any musician, and Spooner has mastered this art. Standing two feet from him as he laid down piano and organ parts was simply a sublime experience.

Day one brought vocal performances from Buddy Miller and Bettye LaVette. Laying down vocals live with the band is the best way to capture the raw energy of a song, and the sessions proceeded at a breakneck pace. Near the end of the day Dylan LeBlanc dropped by to do some singing and was clearly loving the atmosphere in Penn's studio.

  

Day two saw the arrival of drummer Steve Jordan who took over from Ferrone, who happily attended to various percussion duties. Jordan's recordings with Keith Richards and the Winos are some of the best grooves ever committed to tape so I was stoked. I wasn't disappointed—two of the world's most solid drummers laid it down together without a hint of ego. Tiven had assembled an unbelievable team of individuals. 

 

One high point was having lunch at the Penn dining table. Eating 'taters and greens surrounded by music legends listening to stories about Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Jerry Wexler, Wilson Pickett and more from the people who were there—just priceless. 

 

As the days wore on, we got confirmations from some soon-to-be-announced guest-stars, but I had to high-tail it out of there before any of that went down. As it was I got more than my share of mojo risin'. I can't wait to hear the finished product.