The guitars, amps, and effects used by Walter Becker and Jon Herington on Steely Dan''s 2011 tour.
This bass sports some original modifications made by Gary Kramer following the early-’70s departure of his partner Travis Bean.
Some instruments beg more questions than others. This 1978 Kramer 350B, with a headstock that looks like you could whack it on a table and hear a pure 440 Hz, practically shouts, “Please tell people why I am the way I am!”
The story of this bass starts in 1974 with Travis Bean, a colorful Californian experienced as a machinist, motorcycle racer, and rock ’n’ roll drummer. Bean believed that the stability of aluminum was going to revolutionize guitar design. He found a business partner in Gary Kramer, and Travis Bean Guitars began manufacturing high-end guitars and basses selling for around $1,000, which was quite a sum in the ’70s. The instruments had aluminum necks and a distinctive hollowed-out “T” shape in the headstock.
Kramer and Bean dissolved their partnership in 1975, but Kramer dreamed of his guitar company becoming the biggest in the country. Using the knowledge of guitar production that he gathered working with Bean, Kramer believed he could improve on the Bean design by placing wooden inserts to the aluminum necks. This not only reduced the instrument’s weight—addressing a common gripe about Travis Bean guitars—but also made the necks feel less cold to the touch. The T-shaped headstock was also substituted with a simpler “tuning-fork” design, which prevented it from being mistaken for a Travis Bean guitar and further reduced the weight. In 1976, Kramer Guitars sent out their first product brochure featuring the 350G, 450G, 350B, and 450B—two guitars and two basses.
After the dissolution of Gary Kramer and Travis Bean’s partnership in 1975, Kramer modified the design of the company’s guitars, substituting the hollowed-out-T-shape headstock with one that resembles a tuning fork.
Photo by Madison Thorn
This particular 350B belonged to the owners of Fanny’s, Pamela Cole and Leigh Maples. They recalled seeing the Travis Bean instruments when they started playing, and having one of these early Kramers was a nod to their musical adolescence. Even though relatively few Travis Bean instruments were made in the ’70s, this anecdote is not totally surprising given the instruments’ high-profile adoptees. That list includes such rockers as Roger Fisher of Heart and Peggy Foster of the Runaways, musicians from two groups that can be found among the many photos on the walls here at Fanny’s.
“These elements, combined with the wooden inserts on the neck, are what make playing this bass feel like playing a bass, as opposed to a spaceship.”
At nine pounds on the nose, this bass is no heavier than the average Precision Bass and is certainly a testament to Gary Kramer’s commitment to weight relief. It has Schaller tuners, a hardtail, top-load bridge, and a fretboard made of ebonol—a synthetic material named for its similarity to ebony. Because of the way ebonol is made, it has a tight, faintly visible grain structure. These elements, combined with the wooden inserts on the neck, are what make playing this bass feel like playing a bass, as opposed to a spaceship.
The pickups are another interesting feature as we make our way south. First, they are embossed with the Kramer logo of the period, which—calling all font nerds!—is a little reminiscent of an elongated take on Herb Lubalin’s 1970 typeface Busorama. The pickup is a single-coil, and the pickup height is adjusted from the back of the guitar. Placed in the middle of the body, it has a unique tone that is not overwhelmingly beefy, and not too bright either.
This model’s hardtail, top-load bridge has accumulated some rust over the years.
Photo by Madison Thorn
These early Kramers had another advantage over the Travis Bean Guitars: They were considerably more affordable. The 350B retailed for $499, and along with the 450B (and later, the 250B and 650B) proved to be a star of Kramer’s lineup. By the early 1980s, Kramer basses were outselling guitars four to one. In 1981, Kramer switched to producing wood necks, which kept production costs low and broadened their appeal to guitar players. The rest is history, as Kramer went on to become an iconic guitar brand of the 1980s.
A forked-headstock bass might not be for everyone. Perhaps you prefer not to have eagle-eyed members of the audience coming up to you inquiring, “What the heck is that?” after your show. But if you’re jonesing for a bit of American vintage-guitar history that doesn’t require you to fork over all your dough, these early Kramers are certainly worth a look.
Sources: Assorted Kramer ’70s and ’80s catalogs, Axeology.com, GaryKramerGuitar.com, Vintage Guitar, TheMusicZoo.com, Reverb, Guitar.com, VintageKramer.com.
Developing good, clean workshop practices will help you save time and money.
Who doesn’t like a sweet, sustaining, saturated guitar sound? I know I do, but I also love a clear and full clean tone maybe even more. Dirty or clean, to me a guitar sounds like a million bucks when the tubes are glowing and the playing flows. But most of the time I’m in the workshop making lots of dirt, and I don’t mean the overdriven amplifier kind. Making guitars can be a dirty business. Carving wood, plastic, and steel into a majestic instrument creates a lot of mess, and eventually you have to sweep your way clear.
Half a century ago, a mentor passed on this advice: The best way to clean up a mess is to not make one in the first place. Maybe this sounds quaint, but I assure you that it is good for business—any business. It doesn’t matter if you make pedals, guitars, amps, or even music, mess is money down the drain. Not only that, it’s a psychological strain on you that saps your energy and makes you careless.
When I worked at Fender, I was part of a team that was charged with revamping departments for efficiency, safety, and worker well-being. I can’t say that we made a huge difference, but I learned a lot that I could apply to my own shop and a host of other businesses. One thing there we didn’t have to fix was cleanliness. Despite the gargantuan scale of the enterprise, all of the factories are incredibly clean, especially considering the amount of materials that get processed. It reminded me of the race cars and shops of Roger Penske, who understood that a clean, organized workplace sets the tone for excellence. It’s also difficult to pinpoint problems when areas are cluttered, and you can’t see what’s going on clearly.
Beyond the obvious advantages of keeping things organized, there is another benefit created by keeping things clean, one that I’m surprised that more shops I visit (and see in videos) don’t understand. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to stop making your product and clean up. When you’re buried in debris, straightening up is time-consuming, and time is money. When you determine your cost per unit, whether it’s guitars, amps, or even rehearsal time, do you factor in the hours you spend cleaning up? It may not seem like much, but it can really add up. Regardless of if you own a shop or are in a band, if you create a tangle every time you work, the time you spend undoing it is time you could have been with your friends, family, or doing anything else.
A well-designed work area that reduces clutter will save your health and save you money. You don’t have to be a big organization to justify some basic cleanliness improvements like a good dust-collection system, either. It doesn’t have to be a huge investment. There are a slew of affordable mobile dust-collectors/vacuums with adjustable arms that can be rolled from task to task.
"When you determine your cost per unit, whether it’s guitars, amps, or even rehearsal time, do you factor in the hours you spend cleaning up?"
Stop blowing dust off your workbench or machinery onto the floor—picking it up later is like throwing profit away. Everybody benefits because cleanliness improves efficiency that reduces passing unneeded costs on to your customers. Over the course of a year, cleaning up 60 minutes a week adds up to almost seven days’ worth of time you could be using for something better, and who doesn’t want an extra week?
I’ve found that if you build cleanup time into your daily routine, it reduces stress as well. It’s important to create procedures that promote a constant state of improvement and order. After a gig, pro techs have a mandated way of breaking down and stowing gear that avoids confusion when the next setup happens. Daily routines of maintenance and cleanup catch problems before they stop the show or cripple production. If you habitually clean the spilled beer off your cables and amplifier, you’re making it easier for yourself in the long run. I know this all seems pretty obvious to some of you, but I’ve learned from master Kaizen practitioners that there’s always a higher level to reach for. If you are a one-person shop or a weekend warrior musician, those steps can really make a difference.
I suppose the reverse is true for me. If I apply this multi-tiered improvement regime to my guitar playing, I’d probably be a lot happier with my proficiency. An old dog can learn new tricks, and that’s exactly what I mean to do. So when I step on that distortion pedal, it will be the only dirt I deal with.The Jason Richardson signature includes HT humbucker pickups, 24 stainless steel frets, and custom tremolo.
Inspired by over a decade of guitar string research, HT pickups deliver an ultra-high-output, powerful low-end response while retaining a distinctively clean, clear tone and definition at lower volume levels. The HT pickups in the latest Jason Richardson model have been voiced specifically for Jason with unparalleled clarity, power, and output. Additional features include 24 stainless steel frets, a custom Music Man tremolo, and innovative electronics, including a push/push volume knob for a 20+ dB gain boost and coil splitting via the push/push tone knob. The Jason Richardson Artist Series Cutlass HT is available now in two new finishes:
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The Jason Richardson Artist Series Cutlass HT in Venetian Red is available exclusively in the Ernie Ball Music Man Vault and is limited-to-25 units in a 6-string and limited-to-25 units in a 7-string. The Kokiri Forest colorway is available at your local Ernie Ball Music Man dealer.
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Ernie Ball Music Man: The Jason Richardson Cutlass HT Artist Series Guitar Collection
One night, after a performance at an old inn in Pennsylvania, Ted saw a ghost—maybe. Oh, and happy early Halloween!
While this is our October issue, I know it’s a little early for Halloween, but why should Walmart and Target have all the fun? So, here’s a story about a haunted night on the road.
I used to play a chain of bars and inns in southeastern Pennsylvania, and the inns routinely put up the bands after the gig. A lot of those inns had a reputation for being haunted. One had photos of glowing orbs and whisps floating in mid-air taken in various rooms, and some were said to have spirits that played games with patrons, switching lights on and off, blowing in sleepers’ ears, playing tug of war with bedsheets, or the sound of long-gone steam locomotives whistling in the night. At the time, my band was a Mississippi-hill-country-inspired duo, called Scissormen, and several of my drummers experienced these things, but not me. I typically just slept as well as a chronic insomniac can.
Until one night at the Railroad House Inn in Marietta, Pennsylvania. During the gig, I noticed placards on the tabletops for regular meetings of the Pennsylvania Paranormal Association. After the show, I asked the owner, “Is this place haunted?” And he regaled me with ghost stories, noting that a couple staying in the room at the end of the second floor hall, where a gray lady dressed for an earlier century occasionally appeared, had a tug of war with this haint over their bed covers just the week before. Then he added, “I don’t even want to tell you what happened in your room.” Of course, I had to know. Turns out, over a hundred years ago a traveler had been brutally bludgeoned there for the contents of his purse.
Suddenly, I was less tired then I’d thought I was. So, my drumming compadre at the time, R.L. Hulsman, and I, thought it might be nice to sit on the second story back porch of this beautiful structure built in 1823 and enjoy the sweeping woodland view with a wee dram of Jameson—my other frequent traveling companion in those days. It was a warm but beautiful night, with the stars and moon filling the sky like poetry, and one hour quickly become another and another. R.L. and I could chew the fat for ages.
“I saw a gray figure wearing a bonnet, a Victorian skirt, and a frilled blouse go by. I was silent.”
Then, to my left, at the end of the porch, where the window to the haunted room stood uncurtained, I saw a gray figure wearing a bonnet, a Victorian skirt, and a frilled blouse go by. I was silent. Surely, John Jameson and his sons were playing tricks on me. But after about 20 minutes, Rob leaned in and said, gesturing toward that window, “Hey, did you see…?”
“Yes!“ I shouted back. And after a wee bit more liquid courage we decided to investigate.
The door to the allegedly haunted room was open, and we bumbled in, checking the closet, looking under the bed, tugging the bedcovers to see if we’d get a tug back, and checking for the cold spots that seem to be everywhere on paranormal-investigation TV shows. We sat on the bed for a while, but nuthin’. So, we left, and it was time for me to go back to my murder-scene room.
I changed into my PJs, put a glass of water on the bedside table, and spent some time reading a railroad magazine. (Yes, I am also a hardcore train nerd.) The breeze from the open window was delightful, and I soon fell asleep, waking up about 10 hours later, after one of the most wonderful rests I’ve ever had on the road. We lit out for the next gig, relaxed and ready to roll ’n’ rock, in that order.
If you expected a cataclysmic encounter with the souls of the dead, I’m sorry to disappoint. This doesn’t mean I discount others’ experiences, because I have seen and experienced some strange things, indeed. Maybe this spirit was kind, as well as playful, and gifted me the night’s sleep she knew I needed. And while I never played the Railroad House again, I do treasure this night and the memory of the sighting I either did or didn’t have—just another weird tale from decades spent on the road.