At the vintage market’s peak, guitars were one of the sexiest investments around. Now, two years later and 30 percent lower, what’s in store for the vintage market?
A forest of guitars on the floor of the Chicago Guitar Show. |
There was a steady, robust stream of players coming through the doors of the 23,000 square foot DuPage Expo Center, even on one of the first truly beautiful weekend afternoons of the summer season. The tabletops stretched from corner to corner without leaving any significant holes in the floor plan, and all were well stocked with beautiful pieces. Abbreviated guitar and amp demos bounced off the walls and floated around the room—thanks to flyers littered around the hall requesting that players limit their testing to one minute, for the sake of the acoustic dealers in attendance. Dealers eyed the front entrance for walk-ins. You might not call it a smash success, but for all intents and purposes, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I asked the two amigos about their impressions of the show thus far.
Dave Crocker (left) and John Brinkman (right). |
Although it may seem a bit odd for a longtime show organizer and savvy vintage player to be pleased with flat traffic numbers, it’s a sharp reflection of the odd place the vintage market has found itself in. Recently one of the hottest investment opportunities available to people with nostalgic memories and cash to burn, the vintage market is now down 20 to 30 percent from its 2007 peak, with oversaturated pockets of the market down even further. It has been battered by the same economic forces that have plagued every other collectible market in the US, from muscle cars to guns. An accelerating foreclosure rate, pervasive consumer uncertainty and a drastic contraction of the credit markets brought the emphasis from high-end investments and “pleasure” purchases back to the essentials.
But, interestingly enough, even as the general economic news continues to look unimpressive at best, most of the dealers gathered for the third show of the 4 Amigos 2009 calendar seemed to be optimistic, albeit cautiously so. Perhaps it’s because any investment market is, at its core, a confidence game. If you can first sell yourself on a turnaround, you can sell others on it, too. Or perhaps it’s because it is difficult to extinguish people’s deeply-held excitement in a “passion” market like the guitar. Whatever the reason, it seemed that even the most buffeted dealers were looking forward to the coming months with high hopes instead of high anxiety.
“After Dallas [in April], even the other dealers I talked to there said they had seen an increasein sales before Dallas, and it’s been brisk ever since. I think we’ve turned a corner,” says Jim Singleton, owner of Jim’s Guitars, as we sat in his compact, U-shaped booth. “Things are starting to pick up.”
Jim Singleton (left) and George Tsantis (right). |
But before we explore that optimism, we should take a quick, cursory step back, if only to truly appreciate how the vintage market got to its current point. Although vintage guitars have been generally considered a good investment vehicle since the mid-1980s, when baby boomers re-entered the market after some time away, the last eight years of the market turned into a frenzy. With the advent of truly easy money in real estate, stock markets that seemed impervious to gravity, and low-interest home equity lines of credit that never seemed to dry up, the vintage guitar market represented a prime opportunity to increase returns and diversify portfolios with similarly little risk. A market long dominated by players and aficionados of great craftsmanship, the vintage world quickly went mainstream.
“The people buying guitars were no longer musicians. They were doctors and lawyers and brokers. The guitars got too expensive for real players to buy,” recalls Kevin Borden, resident PG vintage expert and long-time dealer. “It got insane. There were certain areas of the market that were, quite frankly, 100 percent overvalued.”
The passion part of this passion market was replaced with excessive speculation, done on behalf of more and more outside investors. Musicians had long evacuated for safer, more reasonable territory. Prices lost their footing in logic, and were increasing almost daily. George Gruhn wrote in a 2005 newsletter: “While many dealers and collectors seem to be of the opinion that prices can only go up, it is my opinion that feeding frenzies do not necessarily result in either the best decisions or long term stability.” And even though trusted sages like Gruhn were sounding the warning bells, they were unable to sway a market captivated by $50,000 Strats, $200,000 Les Pauls and no end in sight. It was a party, and the party was good.
Of course, all good speculative bubbles have to come to an end, but the vintage market crash, along with almost every other collectible market, received a great deal of help from a faltering US economy. As the housing market began its painful cratering in mid-2007 and accelerated into the fall, the vintage market quickly followed. It was a logical, expected reaction, according to Jim Singleton.
“A large segment of [vintage] buyers held real estate,” Singleton explained, “so when the real estate market was strong, the money was there and they were investing in guitars and antique cars and baby boomer stuff. When that money dried up, it affected this market and every other market. Just about every nonessential luxury market has gone down.”
1964 Fender Jazzmaster, $9500 |
Granted, this is fairly rarified territory we’re discussing, examples of golden-era guitars that have spent lifetimes under beds and inside collections. It would be unfair to use adjectives like collapse or implode to describe the vintage market’s last years. “When I think of those words, I think of 1990, when the vintage car market dropped by 90 percent,” says Borden. The truth is that there have been plenty of bright spots in the interim. Flat tops and archtops have remained fairly steady investments, increasing modestly year over year, and sales of guitars up to the $3000 price point have remained healthy through the entire debacle. Likewise, on the extreme top end of the market, owners of original korina Explorers or pristine 1959 bursts are still receiving top dollar for their instruments. But for anything else in between, even tangentially related to modern rock n’ roll—beautiful, vintage electric guitars that were once within reach of musicians but became the province of investors—the downward correction was very real.
A pair of Gibson Firebirds. |
But if the guitar market finds itself 30 percent down from two years ago, and our own economy has yet to show firm signs of stability, let alone a recovery, what explains the optimism of a professional like Jim Singleton? Perhaps it’s because the market finally seems to be shaking it all out. Dealers have weathered the worst of it, and buyers are slowly but surely returning to the floors and shops, buoyed by several months of decent economic news (or at the very least, not terrible news) and low prices. The recent correction has generally been viewed by dealers as a good thing for the market, allowing some fresh blood to get into the vintage game and lowering the capital outlay required by dealers.
But considering how overheated the market became at its peak, it’s also fair to wonder if that market correction has completely run its course. Even Singleton will tell you he has no crystal ball. Although the signs are beginning to point upwards, no one can really say whether the market has hit its bottom, or if it’s yet to come. There’s no strong consensus on either side, and what you’ll hear from a dealer is highly dependent on how he reads the data. Even among Dave Crocker and John Brinkmann, two people with a vested interest in seeing things go upward and quickly, opinions seemed to differ on the state of the vintage market.“It looks good to me,” Brinkmann says, with very little hesitation. “I’m up.”
Crocker hedges his answer a little bit: “I think it’s still healthy, but we’re making some major, major adjustments. A lot of it is due to the economy, but I think part of it is due to the fact that we saw meteoric, explosive growth that wasn’t healthy for the industry.”
Dave Rogers |
“The vintage market really peaked about two years ago,” he told me. “It got so crazy and inflated—bursts selling for $400,000; blackguard Teles selling for $60-$70,000—it just had to correct itself. And it is correcting a little bit, but I don’t know if we’ve found the bottom yet. The prices still have yet to really find themselves, and once they do, I think they’ll be a little lower than they are now.”
Jimmy Wallace |
That adjustment has taken longer for some dealers than others. Like homeowners realizing their $400,000 mortgage is now only worth $290,000, some dealers are reluctant to realize a huge drop in the value of their assets. It’s resulted in a kind of pricing paralysis by some retailers, and it has manifested itself into a waiting game between buyers and sellers that has muddled signs of a bottom.
“A lot of the dealers are still asking prices that maybe would have sold two years ago, but nobody’s buying today,” says Zachary Fjestad of Blue Book Publications and PG’s “Trash or Treasure” column. “I think a lot of the dealers got pretty far in. They never thought there was going to be a market correction, and they don’t want to reduce their prices because that shows that everything is negotiable again.”
Options abound on the Chicago floor. |
The Future
Of course, the laws of supply and demand, and the dealer mantra of rotating stock, regularly tell us that these reluctant holdouts can’t last long. So, does that mean we’re now looking at an unparalleled buyer’s market in the vintage world? Once again, the answer likely depends on where you sit. If you’re buying vintage guitars as a straight investment (as a money-making proposition), it may be wise to keep an eye on that piece you’ve been waiting for a little longer, until dealers start adjusting prices downward even more to get pieces moving again. “We’ve still got guitars out at prices from a year ago that aren’t selling, so I think we’re going to reduce prices on our vintage stuff to make it happen,” says Rogers. “Everybody is going to do that until they start selling and until we find that happy medium.”
That said, players who have a real love for the instrument but found themselves locked out of the market in the past few years will find this an excellent time to take that step back into the vintage market. Depending on your guitar of choice, bargains abound: good Juniors and SGs are underpriced; Stratocasters and Telecasters are back within reach of players; and refins and repaired guitars are once again viable, affordable options for guitarists needing a “player” they can actually use. “Pricing is down across a lot of sectors of the market, and for the first time in a long time, musicians are buying gear again,” says Kevin Borden.
It’s the fact that musicians are actually returning to market that gives many dealers hope for the future. The passion is returning, and another generation of buyers can now have access to it. “It’s a great time to buy a guitar right now, the best time I’ve seen in 20 years,” says Jim Singleton. “With so many of them on the market, you can pick through them, find the best one and still get a good price.”
“I think it’s great. People are loving it, and we’re having a good time too, because now we can go to a show and buy things at a fair price and sell it at a fair price and everybody walks away happy,” says Rumbleseat’s Eliot Michaels a few days following the Chicago show, when asked about his impressions of the post-correction market. “We used to go to guitar shows with exorbitant amounts of money and walk away with one or two guitars. Now we can go to a show with a small wallet of money and walk away with a lot of guitars, and actually be able to sell them to people. Everybody’s happy.”
Columnist Janek Gwizdala with heroes Dennis Chambers (left) and Mike Stern (right).
Keeping your gigging commitments can be tough, especially when faced with a call from a hero. But it’s always the right choice.
Saying “yes!” to everything early on has put me in a place now where I can say no to almost everything and still be okay. That wasn’t without its challenges. I’d like to share a story about a “yes” that would haunt me for years.
As bass players, we can, if we choose, quite easily find ourselves in a wide variety of situations without having to change much about our sound or our playing. If your time is good and you’re able to help those around you feel good and sound better, the telephone will pretty much always ring.
Playing jazz as an electric-bass player living in New York City from 2000 to 2010 was somewhat of a fool’s errand in terms of getting work. No one wanted electric bass, and bandleaders would go to the bottom of a list of 100 upright players before they would even think about calling you. Not only that, but I wasn’t even at the top of the electric list when I first moved there. Not even close. Anthony Jackson, Richard Bona, Will Lee, Tim Lefebvre, James Genus, Lincoln Goines, Mike Pope, John Benitez, Matthew Garrison—that’s a who’s who of the instrument when I first moved to town, and I was very much a freshman with almost no experience. Almost…
I’d been lucky enough to play extensively with Kenwood Dennard (Jaco’s drummer), and a little with Hiram Bullock (Jaco’s guitarist) before moving to NYC which helped create a little momentum, but only a VERY little.
This is where the story begins:
I’d sent Mike Stern a demo back in late ’97. He’d not only taken the time to listen to it but had called my parents’ house right after I moved to the U.S. to tell me he loved it and wanted to hang. I missed the call but eventually met him at a clinic he gave at Berklee.
Of course, I was buzzing about all of this. It helped me stay laser-focused on practice and on moving to NYC as soon as possible. I got the typical “look me up when you get to town” invitation from Stern and basically counted the seconds through the three semesters I stayed at Berklee until I could split town.
I arrived with a ton of confidence but zero gigs. And nothing happened overnight. It really took saying yes to literally everything I was offered just to keep a roof over my head. Through that process, I felt like I was getting further away from playing with my jazz heroes.
The early gigs were far from glamorous—long hours, terrible pay, and sometimes, after travel expenses, they cost me money to play.
“Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroes—the reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do.”
When Stern finally called, a few years into living in NYC, things started to move pretty quickly. I began playing a lot of gigs at the 55 Bar with him, and short road trips became a thing—a four-night stint at Arturo Sandoval’s new club in Miami, gigs in Chicago, Cleveland, and upstate New York, and then some international work, including a tour of Mexico and a trip to Brazil, if I remember right.
But the hardest phone call of my career came from Mike not long into my time touring with him. It went something like this:
“Hey man, what’s your scene in April? Lincoln can’t make a trip to the West Coast. It’s just one gig. Trio… with DENNIS CHAMBERS.”
Mike didn’t shout Dennis’ name, but that’s how I heard it. My all-time hero. Someone I’d been dreaming about playing with for over 15 years. And here’s the kicker: I had to say no.
I’d just committed to six weeks with Jojo Mayer’s band Nerve in Asia and Europe, and there was no way I could bail on him. And there was no way I could afford to ditch six weeks of work for a single gig with Mike. To say that haunted me for years is an understatement. I was destroyed that I had to turn it down.
The tour with Jojo was amazing—the posters hang in my studio as a reminder of those times to this day. And thankfully, I was able to go on some years later and play dozens of shows with Mike and Dennis all over the world—truly some of the highlights of my career.
I still think about that phone call, though. Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroes—the reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do. I get emotional writing and thinking about it even now. But I've learned to never have regrets and understand you just have to believe in the process and maintain the willpower to continue—no matter what.
New RAT Sound Solution Offers a Refined Evolution of Distortion
ACT Entertainment ’s iconic RAT brand has unveiledthe Sterling Vermin, a boutique distortion guitar pedal that blends heritage tone with modernrefinement. With a new take on RAT’s unmistakable sound, Sterling Vermin delivers a new levelof precision and versatility.
“The Sterling Vermin was born from a desire for something different — something refined, withthe soul of a traditional RAT pedal, but with a voice all its own,” says Shawn Wells, MarketManager—Sound, ACT Entertainment, who designed the pedal along with his colleague MattGates. “Built in small batches and hand-soldered in ACT’s Jackson, Missouri headquarters, theSterling Vermin is a work of pure beauty that honors the brand legacy while taking a bold stepforward for creativity.”
The Sterling Vermin features the LM741 Op-Amp and a pair of selectable clipping diodes.Players can toggle between the traditional RAT silicon diode configuration for a punchy, mid-range bite, or the BAT41 option for a smoother, more balanced response. The result is a pedalthat’s equally at home delivering snarling distortion or articulate, low-gain overdrive, with a wide,usable tonal range throughout the entire gain spectrum.
The pedal also features CTS pots and oversized knobs for even, responsive control that affordsa satisfying smoothness to the rotation, with just the right amount of tension. Additionally, thepolished stainless-steel enclosure with laser-annealed graphics showcases the merging of thepedal’s vintage flavor and striking design.
“From low-gain tones reminiscent of a Klon or Bluesbreaker, to high-gain settings that flirt withBig Muff territory — yet stay tight and controlled — the Sterling Vermin is a masterclass indynamic distortion,” says Gates, an ACT Entertainment Sales Representative. “With premiumcomponents, deliberate design and a focus on feel, the Sterling Vermin is more than a pedal, it’sa new chapter for RAT.”
The RAT Sterling Vermin is available immediately and retails for $349 USD. For moreinformation about this solution, visit: actentertainment.com/rat-distortion .
The Miku was introduced about 10 years ago and is based on the vocal stylings of Hatsune Miku, a virtual pop icon. But it does much more than artificial vowels and high-pitched words.
It’s tempting to think of this pedal as a joke. Don’t.
It all started a few years ago through a trade with a friend. I just wanted to help him out—he really wanted to get a fuzz pedal but didn’t have enough cash, so he offered up the Korg Miku. I had no idea then, but it turned out to be the best trade I’ve ever made.
Here’s the truth: the Korg Miku is not your typical guitar pedal. It won’t boost your mids, sculpt your gain, or serve up that warm, buttery overdrive you’ve always worshipped. Nope. This little box does something entirely different: It sings! Yes, sings in a Japanese kawaii accent that’s based on the signature voice of virtual pop icon Hatsune Miku.
At first glance, it’s tempting to dismiss this pedal as just a gimmick—a joke, a collector’s oddity, the kind of thing you buy for fun and then forget next to your Hello Kitty Strat. But here’s the twist: Some take it seriously and I’m one of those people.
I play in a punk band called Cakrux, and lately I’ve been working with a member of a Japanese idol-style girl group—yeah, it’s exactly the kind of wild mashup you’d ever imagine. Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, the Miku found its way into my setup, and weirdly enough, it stuck. It’s quirky, beautiful, occasionally maddening, and somehow … just right. After plenty of time spent in rehearsals, studio takes, and more sonic experiments than I care to admit, I’ve come to appreciate this pedal in unexpected ways. So here are a few things you probably didn’t know about this delightfully strange little box.
It’s Not Organic—and That’s OK
Most guitar pedals are chasing something real. Wah pedals mimic the human voice—or even a trumpet. Tube Screamers? They’re built to recreate the warm push of an overdriven tube amp. Cab sims aim to replicate the tone of real-world speaker setups. But the Miku? It breaks the mold. Instead of emulating reality, it channels the voice of a fictional pop icon. Hatsune Miku isn’t a person—she’s a vocaloid, a fully digital creation made of samples and synthesis. The Miku doesn’t try to sound organic, it tries to sound like her. In that sense, it might be the only pedal trying to reproduce something that never existed in the physical world. And honestly, there’s something oddly poetic about that.
A World-Class Buffer
Here’s a fun fact: I once saw a big-name Indonesian session guitarist—you know, the kind who plays in sold-out arenas—with a Miku pedal on his board. I was like, “No way this guy’s busting out vocaloid lines mid-solo.” Plot twist: He only uses it for the buffer. Yep, the man swears by it and says it’s the best-sounding buffer he’s ever plugged into. I laughed … until I tried it. And honestly? He’s not wrong. Even if you never hear Miku sing a note, this pedal still deserves a spot on your board. Just for the tone mojo alone. Wild, right?
“The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn’t work for your music, but somehow, it just does.”
Impossible to Tame
Most pedals are built to make your life easier. The Miku? Not so much. This thing demands patience—and maybe a little spiritual surrender. First off, the tracking can be finicky, especially if you’re using low-output pickups. Latency becomes really noticeable and your picking dynamics suddenly matter a lot more. Then there’s the golden rule I learned the hard way. Never—ever—put anything before the Miku. No fuzz, no wah, no compressor, not even a buffer! It gets confused instantly and says “What is going on here?” And don’t even think about punching in while recording. The vocal results are so unpredictable, you’ll never get the same sound twice. Mess up halfway? You’re starting from scratch. Same setup, same take, same chaotic energy. It’s like trying to recreate a fever dream. Good luck with that.
Full Range = Full Power
Sure, it’s made for guitar, but the Miku really comes to life when you run it through a keyboard amp, bass cab, or even a full-range speaker. Why? Because her voice covers way more frequency range than a regular guitar speaker can handle. Plug it into a PA system or a bass rig, and everything sounds clearer, richer, way more expressive. It’s like letting Hatsune Miku out of her cage.
The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn't work for your music, but somehow, it just does. Is it the best pedal out there? Nah. Is it practical? Not by a long shot. But every time I plug it in, I can’t help but smile. It’s unpredictable, a little wild, and it feels like you’re jamming in the middle of a bizarre Isekai anime scene. And honestly, that’s what makes it fun.
This thing used to go for less than $100. Now? It’s fetching many times that. Is it worth the price? That’s up to you. But for me, the Korg Miku isn’t just another pedal—it’s a strange, delightful journey I’m glad I didn’t skip. No regrets here.
Two guitars, two amps, and two people is all it takes to bring the noise.
The day before they played the coveted Blue Room at Third Man Records in Nashville, the Washington, D.C.-based garage-punk duo Teen Mortgage released their debut record, Devil Ultrasonic Dream. Not a bad couple of days for a young band.
PG’s Chris Kies caught up with guitarist and vocalist James Guile at the Blue Room to find out how he builds the band’s bombastic guitar attack.
Brought to you by D’Addario.
Devilish Dunable
Guile has been known to use Telecasters and Gretsches in the past, but this time out he’s sticking with this Dunable Cyclops DE, courtesy of Gwarsenio Hall—aka Jordan Olds of metal-themed comedy talk show Two Minutes to Late Night. Guile digs the Dunable’s lightness on his shoulders, and its balance of high and low frequencies.
Storm Warning
What does Guile like about this Squier Cyclone? Simple: its color. This one is also nice and easy on the back, and Guile picked it up from Atomic Music in Beltsville, Maryland.
Crushing It
Guile also scooped this Music Man 410-HD from Atomic, which he got just for this tour for a pretty sweet deal. It runs alongside an Orange Crush Bass 100 to rumble out the low end.
James Guile’s Pedalboard
The Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and Hiwatt Filter Fuzz MkII run to the Orange, while everything else—a DigiTech Whammy, Pro Co Lil’ RAT, and Death by Audio Echo Dream 2—runs to the Music Man. A TC Helicon Mic Mechanic is on board for vocal assistance, and a TC Electronic PolyTune 3, Morley ABY, and Voodoo Labs Pedal Power 3 Plus keep the ship afloat.