Bill Collings in his Austin, Texas, shop. His friends valued his wry humor and trenchant wit as well as his genius for guitar building.
A fellow guitar builder pays fond tribute to a giant of modern lutherie.
Bill Collings, a giant of modern lutherie, died on Friday, July 14, due to cancer, leaving behind a legacy that touched generations of guitar builders and players. In the early 1970s, Collings dropped out of medical school and moved to Houston, where he worked as an engineer for an oil-field pipeline company by day and pursued his passion for building acoustic guitars by night. His devotion to form and function dictated the elegant construction of his instruments, which are known for their warm, crystalline tone and projection, and valued by scores of high-profile performers, including Lyle Lovett (who ordered his first Collings in 1978), Keith Richards, Joni Mitchell, and Pete Townshend. The average price for a new Collings dreadnought is $5,000, and he refused to make bargain-version guitars that might compromise the high quality associated with his name. Collings' first workshop was his kitchen table, but by 2012 his Austin, Texas, shop had grown to include 85 employees, who also make archtop guitars, electric guitars, and mandolins. Collings was a much-loved and respected figure in the industry. Steve Grimes of Grimes Guitars, Collings' friend and an expert builder of archtop and double soundhole instruments, has authored the tribute that follows:
July 15, 2017 started as another typically beautiful day on Maui. Then the weather changed dramatically. A friend called with the sad news that our friend Bill Collings had lost his brief but fierce battle with his terminal illness, and suddenly a dark cloud formed over the mountain. It extended far beyond the confines of this island state and out across the entire guitar world.
Bill's legacy lies not only in the fact that he was such an intuitive, perceptive engineer of great guitars, mandolins, and ukuleles, but in his dedication and passion for sharing everything he knew with others.
I called a few friends that were also good pals of Bill's, and we commiserated over the sudden loss of a dear friend and colleague. But the sadness was repeatedly interrupted by laughter we couldn't hold back when we traded our best Bill Collings memories. We agreed no one could make us laugh the way Bill could, and the idea that his wry humor and trenchant wit were now taken from us hurt just as much as the thought of losing his mastery of lutherie and his brilliant, technical mind. Mixed emotions for sure—pain and laughter, side by side.
I met Bill in one of his first shops in Houston in the early '80s, when he was a one-man operation. I knew right out of the gate that I wanted to know him more, to find out how he ticked, and to learn what he knew. Even though we lived 4,000 miles apart, we managed to hang out fairly often at trade shows and lutherie conventions. One of my fondest memories was the way Bill would find my booth on the first day of the NAMM trade show in Anaheim, California, saunter up, say “aloha," and chat a while. All the time his caliper fingers were inside the soundholes of my archtops, checking top thickness and graduation. “Get your dirty fingers out of my f-holes!" I'd say, eliciting a jackhammer laugh from him. He'd strum a stiff stroke across the strings, listen for things that archtoppers listen for—attack, sustain, decay, overtones—and then ask, “a-hundred-and-sixty-thousandths?" “Four millimeters," I'd reply, amazed that his thumb and index finger could be that accurate!
Bill would occasionally call me at my Hawaii shop and pick my brain about archtops. Meanwhile, I was gathering golden tidbits of info from him on his building philosophies. We'd talk about finishes, archtop neck joints, and guitar tone. But each time the conversation would quickly expand and we'd talk and laugh about life, loves, wine, relationships, great food, and fast cars.
In this luthier's humble opinion, Bill's legacy lies not only in the fact that he was such an intuitive, perceptive engineer of great guitars, mandolins, and ukuleles, but in his dedication and passion for sharing everything he knew with others. I was one of the many lucky builders on the receiving end of his wealth of knowledge about guitar building. And his delivery … that was the icing on this cake of genius! This guy could sprinkle light and levity into dry technical facts better than anyone I'd ever met.
Above this layer of clouds, it's a beautiful day. This overcast will probably stick around for a while. I'll miss him dearly, but the sun will break through as soon as I conjure up another Bill Collings story.
A compact pedal format preamp designed to offer classic, natural bass tone with increased tonal control and extended headroom.
The BX1 begins with a boutique flat response, then Carvin added extensive tone control allowing you to carve out your signature sound. Harmonic content increases as you turn up the INPUT GAIN control, producing the rich harmonics you desire from your preamp. Lightweight, compact design, bullet-proof construction and a list of indispensable features assure the BX1 will be the heart of your tone for years to come. Now shipping worldwide.
Features
Preamp GAIN and master VOLUME controls
BLEND control adjusts the EQ/dry mix
Mid sweep semi-parametric EQ
COMPRESSOR: Threshold and Strength controls
Effects Loop
True Bypass
9-volt power – can use external power supply or internal battery
Switchable MUTE
-12dB Attenuation switch
DIRECT OUT balanced XLR and 1/4-inch
Carvin BX1 Bass Preamp Pedal
The BX1 is available on the Carvin website for a $239 street price. Order now at www.carvinaudio.com.
In their corner, from left to right: Wilco’s Pat Sansone (guitars, keys, and more), drummer Glenn Kotche, Jeff Tweedy, bassist John Stirratt, guitarist Nels Cline, and keyboardist Mikael Jorgensen.
Photo by Annabel Merhen
How Jeff Tweedy, Nels Cline, and Pat Sansone parlayed a songwriting hot streak, collective arrangements, live ensemble recording, and twangy tradition into the band’s new “American music album about America.”
Every artist who’s enjoyed some level of fame has had to deal with the parasocial effect—where audiences feel an overly intimate connection to an artist just from listening to their music. It can lead some listeners to believe they even have a personal relationship with the artist. I asked Jeff Tweedy what it feels like to be on the receiving end of that.
“It’s definitely weird having people know you that you don’t know,” he replied. “There’s a level of intimacy that some people feel they’ve had with you because you’ve reached them in intimate moments—your voice has, at least.” But rather than off-putting, he sees beauty in it: “I try to be really respectful of that, ’cause it’s ultimately really sweet. It’s flattering to be a companion to somebody that you don’t know. It’s one of the more beautiful things about doing what I do, in that it has the potential to be difference-making for somebody in a dark moment.”
With the release of Wilco’s 12th studio album, Cruel Country, Tweedy and the band are offering 21 new songs to connect with. And as its title suggests, Wilco sinks into a country vibe more than ever before. Tweedy speculates that fans have always assumed that Wilco is in some way a country band, and although he’s not sure he agrees, he decided to lean into that on Cruel Country.
I Am My Mother
Although Wilco’s members worked on Jeff Tweedy’s latest group of songs apart, the final architecture of the arrangements was completed together, live in their Chicago studio and practice space, the Loft.
Cruel Country has a concept behind it but isn’t necessarily a concept recording. Tweedy sees it as an “American music album about America.” The songwriter says he’s struggled with what American identity means for decades. “Going back as far as Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, that’s sort of a running theme through a lot of things I’ve written. I would call it an affection or a connection where I can’t really choose. Just like the soft spot you have for your family or the people that you wish knew better but just can’t help themselves, that you have been shown kindness from in other ways. I think that you can be critical of something, believe that its flaws are intolerable, and actually have love for the same person or the same thing. In this case, your country.” Of course, with its twangy riffs, bent-note solos, and other classic sonic signatures, the album can easily be heard as a loving homage to country music. Regardless, this new entry in Wilco’s catalog seems the next right step in the band’s career.
“It all becomes a part of the thing that you can’t fake—ensemble-based playing.”—Jeff Tweedy
The album blends Wilco’s classic sound with that twang and small doses of unconventional arrangements. It refamiliarizes us with Tweedy’s unassuming, mutedly sad, and at times droll lyrics. “Once, just by chance / I made a friend in an ambulance / I was half man, half broken glass,” he sings on “Ambulance.” In the single “Falling Apart (Right Now),” he reflects on the pervasive stress of modern life with the couplet, “Now don’t you lose your mind / While I’m looking for mine.” And in keeping with Wilco’s wilder moments, the band explores abstract effects on the nearly eight-minute “Many Worlds” and ventures into an extended jam for the second half of “Bird Without a Tail/ Base of My Skull.”
Cruel Country started back in 2020, when, after having to cancel a tour with Sleater-Kinney, Tweedy started sending the band songs to work on remotely. They got back on the road in 2021, and during those two years, Tweedy met occasionally with individual members at their Chicago recording and practice space, the Loft, to hash out material. But it wasn’t until January 2022 that all the members were able to meet at the space for the first time since before the pandemic.
Jeff Tweedy’s Gear
Jeff Tweedy used three acoustic guitars on Wilco’s latest, including his faithful Martin D-28. He praises Bob Dylan and Buck Owens as models for his own country-flavored acoustic rhythm playing.
Photo by Jordi Vidal
Guitars
1944 Martin D-28 named “Hank”
1933 Martin OM-18
1931 Martin OM-28
Strings & Picks
D’Addario Phosphor Bronze EJ16 (.012–.053)
D’Addario Phosphor Bronze EJ17 (.013–.056)
Herco Flex 50
Herco Flex 75
Snarling Dogs Brain Picks, green, .53 mm
In the days leading up to that, Tweedy was writing more prolifically and continued to forward his rough demos to his bandmates. “The songs started coming very easily and felt very urgent, and it felt good to have a new song to sing each day,” he says.
Guitarist Nels Cline, Wilco’s sonic not-so-secret weapon, notes, “At one point last year, Jeff decided he wanted to send us a song a day that he would record on his smartphone, playing guitar and singing. As I recall, he wrote 51 songs in 52 days. And unlike a lot of his songwriting that we’ve experienced, a lot of these songs had finished lyrics and choruses and everything. Some were so absolutely classic in the style that I would loosely call country songs or folk songs that I didn’t know that they were Wilco songs.”
Multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone adds, “But when we looked at the material that we had in the works, we saw that we had a lot that was in this style, and decided, ‘Why don’t we lean into these songs to make a body of work?’ I think it’s natural for us to do something like this. It’s always been a part of our vocabulary.”
“I’ve always loved that [B-Bender] sound and I certainly admire the great players. Clarence White was a genius and one of my favorite guitarists. And I’m a big fan of Marty Stuart’s guitar playing.”—Pat Sansone
When Wilco was able to meet, putting together the arrangements for Tweedy’s already fleshed-out ideas came easily. “We actually made the first disc of this record in January in two weeks,” Tweedy says. “And then we got together for two weeks in February and thought initially that we’d just be seeing if we could make anything that would beat the things that are on the first record. We ended up starting to feel like, well, this is kind of making itself a double record. The songs kind of inform each other.” Except for a few overdubs, the album was recorded live—just the six members playing in the studio together. Essentially, the two discs were recorded and released in five months.
When asked what they might have learned about themselves or the band in the making of Cruel Country, all three guitarists say—in some variation—that they discovered Sansone’s skills on the B-Bender Telecaster. “I’ve never seen that before [from him]; it was pretty mind-blowing,” Tweedy laughs.
Cline continues, “A lot of the really twangy, cool-sounding country-style guitar that you hear on this record is Pat. I don’t think he even deigned to add the B-Bender to the record until Jeff asked him at one point, ‘Do you have a B-Bender Telecaster?’ And it was so successful. He’s such a natural at it that Jeff asked him for it again and again on song after song.”
Nels Cline’s Gear
Nels Cline wiggles the vibrato arm on his main guitar, a 1960 Fender Jazzmaster that he’s dubbed “the Watt.”
Photo by Jim Bennett
Guitars
1930s National square-neck resonator Duesenberg lap steel (with B- and G-Bender levers) 1940s National resonator with Bakelite neck Early ’50s Epiphone Electar Mule Resonators “The Mavis” electric resonator 1960 Jazzmaster aka “The Watt” Neptune 12-string Fano SP6 by Dennis Fano, with custom-designed Duneland Labs hum-canceling pickups
Amp
Milkman Creamer with 50W Jupiter 12" speaker
Effects
Moyo Volume pedal
Boss CS-3 Compression Sustainer
Walrus Audio Voyager overdrive
Vintage MXR Phase 45
EarthQuaker Devices Disaster Transport delay
EarthQuaker Devices Aqueduct vibrato
Big Foot FX Magnavibe
Strings, Picks & Cables
GHS Boomers (.012 sets; “The Mavis” has flatwounds)
Dunlop Ultex 1.14 mm
Bluebird picks borrowed from Pat
Divine Noise cables
“I’ve always loved that sound,” says Sansone, “and I certainly admire the great players. Clarence White was a genius and one of my favorite guitarists. And I’m a big fan of Marty Stuart’s guitar playing. It’s something that I learned that I really like to play, and it’s something that I definitely want to get better at.”
Of all the songs on the record, Sansone names “Mystery Binds,” a dreamy folk-rock ballad with plenty of texture, as one of his favorites. “That’s the song that Jeff had sent to us in the dark days of the pandemic when we were still working remotely. I immediately took to that song. I thought it had a really unique and beautiful mood and was something a bit different than anything I’d heard Jeff send us. ‘Many Worlds’ is another favorite. That was Nels and I playing together and kind of playing off each other, and that’s always a thrill—to be able to do that with him.”
Cline and Sansone say that “Many Worlds,” despite how kaleidoscopic its sonic architecture might seem given the abundance of effects and instrumentation, was recorded live like the rest of the album. Sansone actually got up in the middle of the song to switch from piano to guitar. “[We wanted to] see if we could play it live,” Tweedy shares. “We tried it, and you can hear us moving around on the track. But it all becomes a part of the thing that you can’t fake—ensemble-based playing.”
“One friend of my wife’s and mine who’s French once compared my lead guitar playing to the voice of Edith Piaf.”—Nels Cline
The three guitarists in the band have found their own ways to complement each other. Cline is often thought of as the lead guitarist, with Sansone typically alternating between back-up guitar and keys. Tweedy sets the tone at the front, either with rhythm strumming or fingerpicking. On Cruel Country, however, Cline comments that Sansone took the role of lead guitar on many songs with his B-Bender, and Tweedy says that his primary goal was to be a solid country strummer.
“One person I think is really good at that, oddly enough, is Bob Dylan. I like the drive that he has on his records when he’s playing acoustic guitar,” Tweedy opines. “I like Buck Owens and country recordings where it’s not even a specific player—it’s just a style of playing where the guitar becomes part of the rhythm section, almost like a tambourine or something.” The guitars Tweedy used on the album were all Martins, including his 1944 D-28, 1933 OM-18, and 1931 OM-28.
The axes Cline played on the album include a 1930s National square-neck resonator, a Duesenberg lap steel, a Neptune electric 12-string, and his main guitar, the 1960 Jazzmaster known as “the Watt.” Cline, whose background includes experimental and avant-garde jazz, names Electric Ladyland by the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Meditations by John Coltrane, and Solstice by Ralph Towner as three of his top albums. He also mentions that since age 10 he’s been fascinated and inspired by Indian classical music, and that among his many, many influences on the guitar is Peter Frampton—one he says journalists tend to leave out.
Pat Sansone’s Gear
Pat Sansone’s B-Bender-equipped Telecaster became an essential part of the new Wilco record, helping to put the steel-guitar sound of country into the new Cruel Country.
Photo by Jordi Vidal
Guitars
Tokai Telecaster with B-Bender 1963 Epiphone Casino 1988 Rickenbacker Roger McGuinn 370/12 12-string
Amp
Vintage Fender Deluxe
Effects
’70s Ibanez Phase Tone II
Strings, Picks & Cables
Assorted D’Addario sets
Bluebird picks (made from 1930s Argentinian poker chips by Pat’s brother-in-law)
Divine Noise cables
Cline describes himself as versatile and isn’t sure his jazz roots influence what he records with Wilco. “I try to change what I play based on what I think the song is asking for, or quite often what Jeff specifically asked for. I don’t know that I have any voice that I could zero in on. I’m many voices.One friend of my wife’s and mine who’s French once compared my lead guitar playing to the voice of Edith Piaf. I think it’s because of what I call the wiggle—my fast vibrato which is inspired by John Cipollina from Quicksilver Messenger Service and Tom Verlaine from Television.”
Sansone—whose favorite albums include Revolver, Odessey and Oracleby the Zombies, and Third/Sister Lovers by Big Star—describes his approach: “I have a tendency to go toward melodic figures, finding places where counter-melodies can support the arrangement, or melodic bits on the guitar that help connect different parts of the song. That’s probably where my style and my sensibilities are maybe most unique in the group.” The B-Bender-equipped instrument he used on the album was a Tokai Telecaster. He also played a 1963 Epiphone Casino and a 1988 reissue Roger McGuinn 12-string Rickenbacker. In the studio, he prefers using a Swart Atomic Space Tone amp. “It’s just a small amp, low voltage, one 10" speaker, but it has a beautiful tone. It takes pedals very well, so it’s easy to get a range of tones at low volume.”
Wilco’s songs have always begun with Tweedy. He has some methods of writing that help him along the path of fine-tuning his work, including sharing his ideas with the band. “When I play my songs for the rest of the band, I start to hear them with other people’s ears. It kind of provides at least a little moment of objectivity, ’cause I can hear ’em and forget that I made them up,” he shares. His songwriting is defined by the simple notion that he can’t not be himself while composing. “And at some point, you try to be yourself on purpose,” he elaborates. “I can’t really extract myself from it anymore. It’s just a thing that I do, and it results in a thing that has some ‘me-ness’ to it. Like some ‘Jeff-ness.’
“When I play my songs for the rest of the band, I start to hear them with other people’s ears.”—Jeff Tweedy
“I like reading a lot, I like listening to records, and I generally do both until I can’t take it anymore and I feel like I need to do something of my own,” he continues. “I need to answer that call to add my own voice to the [mix]. It’s just inspiring when you spend time with other people’s consciousnesses.”
In the nearly 40 years he’s been performing as a professional recording artist, Tweedy’s ambitions haven’t really changed. “All the decisions I feel have been mostly centered around, ‘What path do we take that will allow us to do this tomorrow?’ I mean, first, if you can’t picture it, it can’t happen. Even ‘I want to be a songwriter,’ to me, is a little bit more intangible than ‘I want to write a song.’ That’s a manageable goal, and all your big dreams are built on those manageable goals. Because if you don’t do those, other things don’t happen.”
YouTube It
Pat Sansone lays down some heavy twang with his Fender Telecaster in this three-guitar-frontline performance of “Falling Apart (Right Now),” from Wilco’s new Cruel Country, at the band’s Solid Sound festival 2022 in North Adams, Massachusetts.
Luthier Maegen Wells recalls the moment she fell in love with the archtop and how it changed her world.
The archtop guitar is one of the greatest loves of my life, and over time it’s become clear that our tale is perhaps an unlikely one. I showed up late to the archtop party, and it took a while to realize our pairing was atypical. I had no idea that I had fallen head-over-heels in love with everything about what’s commonly perceived as a “jazz guitar.” No clue whatsoever. And, to be honest, I kind of miss those days. But one can only hear the question, “Why do you want to build jazz guitars if you don’t play jazz?” so many times before starting to wonder what the hell everyone’s talking about.
Contrary to popular belief, archtop guitars have the potential to be some of the most versatile on the planet. Yet a huge corner of the music world insists on keeping them in a straitjacket. What’s up with that? Even as a little-girl player, I always felt archtops were the most beautiful guitars of them all. So beautiful that they were untouchable. I didn’t need someone to tell me I didn’t play the “right kind of music” to feel unworthy of them. But the word on the street was that archtops were meant for a very particular and sophisticated style of music.
This is not the guitar for you. I believed it. I could feel it. I am not worthy. Instead, I picked up an OM and headed down a very different musical path in life. Tying down the restraints not only on the archtop, but myself. Does this sound familiar?
This is not what music and guitars should do to us. So, who put this straitjacket on? Did I put it on myself? Did I put the archtop guitar in one? Are there others?! Help! How did this happen? I spent the next 11 years walking around in a singer/songwriter straitjacket. It wasn’t until I showed up at the Galloup School of Guitar Building and Repair that I was able to bust out of that thing with some chisels and gouges. It was there that I got my first glimpse at the archtop party.
The first private moment I had with my completed archtop, I was stunned to silence. My soul shifted, and there a song was found hiding—my very first instrumental fingerstyle piece.
My intentions were to be a flattop builder, but I was changed forever when my archtop construction began. Enthralled by the versatility of skills the process demanded, the woodworker in me was ignited. The experience of building a variety of guitars was why I wanted to take the Galloup Masters Program. With that came the experience of playing a variety of guitars that I normally would not play,which was equally educational and life changing—something that has now become essential to my musical inspiration.
The first private moment I had with my completed archtop, I was stunned to silence. My soul shifted, and there a song was found hiding—my very first instrumental fingerstyle piece. I was so hypnotized by the voice of this guitar that it launched me in a completely different musical direction. I did not sing another note for almost 7 years; this instrument’s voice was the only one I wanted to hear. It was everything I’ve ever wanted: acoustic, electric, sensitive, powerful, delicate, strong. Our love was effortless, and it found music living inside of me that I had no idea existed. Isn’t that what it’s all about?
I share this dusty story with you today because I know I’m not alone. There are others out there who have allowed the restraints to come between them and these remarkable instruments. Because at some point along the way, they were told they’re not supposed to do that with an archtop. I hear this all of the time. Whatever happened to just picking up a guitar, closing your eyes, and letting it pull something out of you? I’m not at all denying the fact that certain instruments excel with certain genres and styles of playing, but we can’t let that prevent us from exploring the things we’re curious about.You could be missing out on one of the great loves of your life.
I almost missed out on the archtop party, but thankfully I came in through the woodshop window. And I have good news: The others at this party are on a similar mission to free the archtop from its straitjacket. Not to mention, the music at this party is off the hook. Is there jazz? YES! But that’s not all—we have fingerstyle, honky-tonk, funk, blues, rock, weird space music, and everything else you’re not supposed to do on an archtop. With today’s premier archtop builders such as Danny Koentopp, Tim Frick, Wyatt Wilkie, LHT, Otto D’Ambrosio, or Retrograde, just to name a few, there is undoubtedly something for everyone to be inspired by.
This is your official invitation to the archtop party. Leave your straitjacket at the door and join us, ’cause an archtop party don’t stop.
