During his visit to the Workshop Mark Spencer spent some time playing Sakura through his Milkman 40 1x12 combo. Here he explores some semi-clean tones. Be sure to click the Audio Off button at the top of the right hand column to stop the background music before watching the video. Try the full screen option!
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I enjoy having visitors to the workshop play my instruments. I feel as though each musician leaves a little bit of themselves with the guitar. The process is to roll the camera and then put the guitar in their hands and see what develops. Here’s my friend Mike getting greasy on the Crow.
Visitors to the Workshop are always a welcome diversion especially when they entertain the camera with their prowess on my guitars. But recently I’ve been prone to taking guitars on the road. Regular readers of this blog and corresponding Facebook page will already be familliar with my build process. I put a massive amount of forethought into what I call the “pre-story” of each instrument. I employ 1930s wire, 1950s switchgear, old-growth wood and old world craftsmanship to build a soul into each guitar. Still, the most important part of any instrument’s life is the experience it gains by being played. In this connection, I have ventured out into the world and allowed my creations the luxury of being stroked and spanked publicly. These instruments are not vintage, nor are they new. They are not used, as in second-hand. They are becoming experienced. Every player who caresses my instruments imbeds a bit of their being into the guitar.
With that in mind, I met up with Steve Kimock for a little soul searching. Every scratch on these guitars is a badge of honor.
For our newest readers, here’s a video recap of some of the thought behind my current build—Hell’s Half Acre. You can watch in full screen mode. Turn off the blog audio first by clicking the Audio Off button in the upper right hand column of this page.
Since my childhood, the electric guitar has called me in ways I simply cannot explain. From the first strains of “Greensleeves” that shook the camp gymnasium windows, to the feedback drenched nights at Chicago’s Electric Theater—I was hooked. Similarly, my builds are formulated in a part of my brain that defies concious explaniation.
I imagine dusty boots walking railroad tracks, birds of prey and the jumble of words racing down antique telephone wires. A sixth sense that connects the delta with those who live in the city. The Crow is a messenger, harbinger and scrappy traveler. Like the touring musician who lives by his wits and intuition, the crow is alive in all of us.
Be sure to click the Audio Off button at the top of the right hand column to stop the background music before watching the video.