Kirk Sand builds gorgeous guitars for everyone from Tommy Emmanuel to Richie Sambora to Steve Wariner
You started playing guitar when you were 6 years old, right?
Yes. I was a little kid playing guitar, following Peter, Paul and Mary, the New Christy Minstrels, and the Kingston Trio. And I was glued to the television whenever I saw Tommy Smothers playing his big Guild dreadnought. I was just fascinated by guitar. I donāt remember even thinking about doing anything else my entire lifeāthat was it! When I was 6, I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life mastering this instrument. Iām not kidding you, I remember going to bed and having my guitar lying next to me. Especially if I got a new one, I did not want to put it down.
Iāve been there.
Iām still there. I build in batches, so Iāll build a batch of 16 in one group, and when I get done with them, each night Iāll take one home and Iāll sit on my couch and hug it and play it and kind of fiddle with it, just looking for any little thing I can tweak before I send it off. Man, Iām like a little kid.
What made you choose lutherie over a career playing guitar?
I bought into a guitar shop when I was 21, so for five years I was doing guitar repairs. When I was a little kid, and all through my formative years, the first thing Iād do when I got a guitar was take it apart to see how it worked. Then Iād put it back together, fix this, tweak that. I started doing repairs for my customersāand I had all these guitars to work onāso I learned to be a luthier by hands-on training, trial and error, doing it over and over again. So it was on-the-job training that got me interested in lutherie. When I was 26, I was so tired of playing guitar for a living. I didnāt want to play in another restaurant. I really lost the bug for that. So I decided Iād call Dick Boak at Martinābecause heād been sending me parts for my repairsāand ask him to send me all the parts for a guitar. I put together my first 10 guitars from what were basically Martin kits, which you can still buy from Martin today. And when I finished that first guitar, I was so surprised at how well it turned out that I put it in my store and sold it. After I got up to eight or 10, I figured it was time to go on to getting the wood and cutting it myself. So I got all the saws and planers and jointers and sanders and stuff, started building four at a time, six at a time, eight at a time. Within 15 years, I was doing 46 at a time, all by myself in my workshop. Iām down to about 30 a year now, because Iām getting older and slower and busier with life. When youāre 26 and single, you work all night and nobody comes looking for you.
So you started with steel-string guitars?
I did. Even though Iād studied classical guitar for many years and loved the sound of nylon strings, my first entry into guitar building was with steel-string acoustics. And after about 20 or 30 flattops, I started building classicals, too, because theyāre pretty easy to do. If you can build a steel-string, you can build a nylon-stringāitās not that different. But the steel-string market is so much bigger, so itās easier to sell a flattop than a classical.
I got up to about 80 guitars and then went in the direction of the nylon-string electric (NSE) guitar, because I really love nylon-string guitars. I love to play them, I love the way they sound. And I thought the amplified part of it was fascinating: Plug a nylon-string into an amp, and you donāt turn it up loud, but you can turn it up to where you can be heard. So thatās when I met Chet andābangāthe rest is history.
Chet Atkins took one of the guitars you made for him to Gibson, and they started building those guitars there.
Thatās the way it happened with Chet when he found a guitar maker he liked, because Chet was always affiliated with a guitar company. He started with Gibson in the ā80s, so from 1980 on it had to be a Gibson. When he found a guitar he really liked, he would just have Gibson make a replica of that guitar and add it to the Chet Atkins line. When Iād go to Nashville, Iād drop by Chetās office and fix guitars for him, and we became friends. I came up with a design for a hollow, nylon-string electric with a thin, classically braced top and no soundhole. It was good for standing up and playing with a strap, and that was exactly what Chet was looking for. He was looking for an NSE that had two things: He wanted more of an acoustic sound, which we achieved by making it hollow and bracing it like a classical guitar, and it had to be lighter, because the Chet Atkins model heād been using for 10 years was very heavy. It was solid woodāit weighed the same as a Les Paul.
When he saw my NSE, he said, āMan, this is fantastic. I want you to make me one just like this, but I want you to use my pickup and preamp.ā Which was Gibson stuff. I didnāt realize at the time he already had it in his mind that he was going to have Gibson make this guitar. So I made him one, and by golly the first day he got it, he went down to Gibson. I got a call from Mike Voltz at Gibson saying, āWell, Chet just ran in here with this guitar and he wants us to add it to his line, so how do you do it?ā So I proceeded to make them one that came apart, the top came off the body so you could see inside, the neck came off. They started making that instrument exactly like mine, and they did a pretty good job, too, for a factory. They were making it there in Nashville, and that factory really wasnāt geared up to make acoustic guitars.
How many guitars did you end up building for him?
I wound up making him four guitars over that 10-year period. Iād make him one and heād play it a year or two, and then Iād entice him with something else, maybe a little more trim or abalone, and heād say, āYeahāIād like to have one of those!ā So Iād make him another one, and then Iād trade him. Now Iāve got two guitars that Chet Atkins used to own and play, and Iāve got lots of pictures of him playing them, so theyāre kind of my retirement. Probably my kids will sell them at my funeral.
That must have been a huge boost for your business.
In the ā90s I made 300 NSE guitars, maybe a few more. Iām 61 now, so that was a good decade for me. I was buried with orders because of Chet. But Iām sure glad it was an instrument that I loved, because I wouldnāt want to have made 300 banjos during that time.
You made a 7-string guitar for Lenny Breau back in 1983, and that was kind of unheard of.
What were some of the challenges of designing the 7-string?
Well, in order to get the seventh string tuned up to a high A, we had to really experiment with the scale length, because there isnāt a string available that could tune up to the high A without breaking. So I shortened the scale length quite a bit. I experimented using a capo on the guitar and restringing it, moving the capo around and changing the gauge of the string to find just that certain scale length and string gauge that made the first string feel like it was the same tension as the other treble strings. The guitar had a 22 ¾"-scale length, which is very short. And the string was an .008, which is not all that thin, really. I think Lenny even used a .009 at times. The high A actually worked quite well.
What were some of the other distinguishing characteristics of that 7-string?
It was a classical guitar shape, and I incorporated a really deep cutaway. And Lenny wanted it heavy. It was solid mahogany. That thing weighed a ton. He wanted it to sustaināthat was a big part of his sound. Heād do those harmonics and theyād just keep ringing like a bell, so he really liked the fact that the guitar was heavy and had the sustain it did.
What sorts of electronics did it have?
Seymour Duncan made custom pickups for it. There were no 7-string pickups at that time. The string spacing was the same as a classical guitar, and the pickups had to be fabricated so the pole pieces were directly under each string. Lenny also wanted those roller knobs that are turned sideways, like on a Fender Jazzmaster. Actually, I used Jazzmaster controls. Lenny would reach down to that volume control and move it back and forth to get a tremolo sound.
Tell me about the JosƩ Feliciano guitars.
He was my first celebrity guitar player. I met him back in the late ā70s at a party, and we started talking guitars. He said, āYou know, Kirk, I want a nylon-string thatās got the body size of a dreadnought.ā So I made him a guitar with a dreadnought-size body. It was a little more curvy, more like a jumbo, but with nylon strings, and he absolutely flipped out over it. He could get that huge bass. Other players who have played that guitar didnāt particularly care for how bass heavy it was, because the treble strings can suffer if you make the body too deep, but JosĆ© didnāt have any trouble getting the melody to come out. Heās a really good, strong player.
What about the cutaway models he used to play?
The first three or four guitars I made him were that jumbo shape, but once he played one of my guitars that had my cutaway design, he began playing that model. The upper bout starts to come in toward the neck, kind of like a Telecaster, and then it swoops straight down into the cutaway. So the neck heel is not under the 12th fret where it normally is on a guitarāitās much further down. Itās got really good access to the upper frets and itās smooth to the touch, because thereās no heel back there. I wanted to get 14 frets free and clear of the body, 15 on the cutaway side, and there are two ways you can do that. You can just move the neck out two frets, and thatās what everybody does. They just scoot the neck out two frets so the body joins at the 14th fret, like a Martin D-28. But when you do that the bridge has to follow, it has to come up that same distance in order for the guitar to play in tune. So the bridge is no longer in the belly of the guitar, itās closer to the soundhole, like a steelstring. But classical guitars are braced, built, and designed to have the bridge down in the belly of the guitar to make it sound good. Instead of moving the neck out and moving the bridge up closer to the soundhole, I left the neck where it was, left the bridge where it wasāin the bellyāand changed the upper body so the sides swoop down and join the neck at the 14th fret.
How does that 14-fret access change feel and playability?
When a classical player plays a guitar where the neck has been moved out, it feels funny because theyāre used to having that 12th fret right under their nose. And extending the neck also throws off the guitarās balance. So [my cutaway design] seemed pretty logical to me, and Iāve been doing it ever since. Iāve noticed that a couple of other makers are starting to do that, which I think is wonderfulā the more the better. In fact, Iām surprised more cutaway guitars arenāt like that. Iām very proud of that design. Of course, Iāve never trademarked anything. Itās just a really good design and players seem to really like it.
Recently, youāve started building carvedtop electric guitars.
Iāve always loved the carved topāitās fascinating to me. I like the way it looks, and Iāve always wanted to build one, but I was too busy with NSE guitars. So a couple of years ago I thought I could carve a top and just put it on the same body my NSE hasāthe mahogany model, which is the hollowed out guitar like Chet played. And it works great. Carving the top is a lot of fun. It adds a third dimension to making a guitar top. If youāve been making flattops all your life, to start off with an inch-thick piece of wood and end up with a violin-shaped top, thatās a lot harder than slapping some braces on a flat piece of wood. Iām not going to make too many of them, maybe six a year. I just made one for Paul Yandell, a singlepickup carved top electric (CTE).
How do CTEs differ from your other designs?
They have the same cutaway, and they have the neck pitched back like an archtop. They look just like a jazz guitar from the top, but theyāre only 14 ¾ā inches wide. Though they have the same body I use on the mahogany model NSE, I put the back panels in a different place to access the electronics.
Is there a standard pickup?
No. Paul Yandell had an old Ray Butts pickup he wanted on his guitar, and another guy that I just made one for wanted Seymour Duncan ā59s. I use Gibsons, Duncans, Fralinsāanything you want.
So, whatās left for you to build now?
I love working with guys on their guitars, doing little things. Guitarists usually only have concepts or guidelines, they donāt have too many specific design ideas, so they let you mold them. Like the guitar I just finished for Paul has a special pickup on it, and the fretboard is designed so the bass strings are higher off the soundboard to prevent his thumpick from tapping the top. The pickup is a Prismatone II made by Sam Kennedy, and itās a remake of an old pickup Chet Atkins and Jerry Reed used on their nylon-string guitars. It has huge bass and crystal-clear treble, and itās Paulās favorite nylonstring pickup. That guitar also has a special 24.9"-scale length thatās very short for a nylonstring and makes it really easy to play because the frets are closer together.
So I just enjoy building other peopleās fantasy guitars. Email and digital photos have made things so much faster, too. A guitarist can think of a design, and then Iāll lay it out on my workbench and take a picture of it to send to them. Two seconds later, theyāre looking at it. Itās fantastic. Technology has sped up the design process tremendously. I take pictures as Iām building the guitars and send them to the guys who ordered them. They love it. At the end of the day, Iāll send pictures to each of the customers, and theyāll put together a little scrapbook.
Itās kind of like getting an ultrasound image of your baby.
In fact, it takes about nine months to deliver a guitar. Depending on the model, my backlog is nine months to a year-and-a-half. Anyway, I hope to be just a little old man building 10 guitars a year, selling them for $50,000 apiece, living in my little house in Laguna Beach. Iāve got a cool little private workshop, about 800 square feet. Iāve got all my machines here. I can spray lacquer here. Iāve got a big flatscreen TV on the wall. Itās like that fantasy I had as a little kid, when I was so into artists and composers and I thought, āWhat a life! They just sit around and write music or paintāthey donāt have to go to work everyday like my dad.ā And now Iām doing exactly what I fantasized about. Iām not sure what Iām going to do when I grow up. they were so insistent on ordering
The Gibson EH-185, introduced in 1939, was one of the companyās first electric guitars.
Before the Les Pauls and SGs, this aluminum-reinforced instrument was one of the famous brandās first electric guitars.
Itās hard to overstate the importance of electric guitar in shaping American popular music over the last half-century. Its introduction was a revolution, changing the course of modern musical styles. Today, when we think of the guitars that started the revolution, we think of the Stratocaster and the Les Paul, guitars held against the body and fretted with the fingertips. But the real spark of this musical mutiny was the lap-steel guitar.
In the early 20th century, guitar music was moving out of the parlors of homes and into public spaces where folks could gather together and dance. Guitarists needed to project their sound far beyond where their wimpy little acoustic instruments could reach. Instrument manufacturers began experimenting with larger body sizes, metal construction, and resonators to increase volume.
Around this time, George Beauchamp began experimenting with electric guitar amplification. He settled on a design using two U-shaped magnets and a single coil of wire. Beauchamp was in business with Adolph Rickenbacker, and they decided to stick this new invention into a lap steel.
If we put on our 1930s glasses, this decision makes perfect sense. The most popular music at the time was a blend of Hawaiian and jazz styles made famous by virtuosos like Solomon āSolā HoŹ»opiŹ»i. Photos of HoŹ»opiŹ»i with a metal-body resonator aboundāone can imagine his relief at being handed an instrument that projected sound toward the audience via an amplifier, rather than back at his own head via resonator cones. Beauchamp and Rickenbacker were simply following the market.
As it turned out, the popularity of Hawaiian music gave way to swing, and electric lap steels didnāt exactly take the world by storm. But Beauchamp and Rickenbacker had proven the viability of this new technology, and other manufacturers followed suit. In 1937, Gibson created a pickup with magnets under the strings, rather than above like Beauchampās.
āWhen I plugged in the EH-185 I expected to hear something reminiscent of Charlie Christianās smooth, clean tone. But what I got was meatierācloser to what I associate with P-90s: warm and midrange-y.ā
The first page of Gibsonās āElectrical Instrumentsā section in the 1939 catalog features a glowing, full-page write-up of their top-of-the-line lap steel: the EH-185. āEverything about this new electric Hawaiian Guitar smacks of good showmanship,ā effuses the copy. āIt has smoothness, great sustaining power, and an easy flow of tone that builds up strongly and does not die out.ā
Picking up the 1940 EH-185 at Fannyās House of Music is about as close as one can get to traveling back in time to try a new one. It is just so clean, with barely any dings or even finish checking. Overall, this is a 9/10 piece, and itās a joy to behold. Speaking of picking it up, the first thing you notice when you lift the EH-185 out of the case is its weight. This is a much heavier instrument than other similar-sized lap steels, owing to a length of thick metal between the body and the fretboard. The catalog calls it āHyblum metal,ā which may be a flowery trade name for an early aluminum alloy.
This 1940 EH-185 is heavier than other lap steels in its class, thanks to a length of metal between its fretboard and body.
Photo by Madison Thorn
There are numerous other fancy appointments on the EH-185 that Gibson didnāt offer on their lesser models. Itās made of highly figured maple, with diamond-shaped decorations on the back of the body and neck. The double binding is nearly a centimeter thick and gives the instrument a luxurious, expensive look.
Behind all these high-end attributes is a great-sounding guitar, thanks to that old pickup. Itās got three blades protruding through the bobbin for the unwound strings and one longer blade for the wound strings. When I plugged in the EH-185 I expected to hear something reminiscent of Charlie Christianās smooth, clean tone. But what I got was meatierācloser to what I associate with P-90s: warm and midrange-y. It was just crying out for a little crunch and a bluesy touch. Itās kind of cool how such a pristine, high-end vintage instrument can be so well-suited for a sound thatās rough around the edges.
As far as electric guitars go, it doesnāt get much more vintage than this 1940 Gibson EH-185 Lap Steel. It reminds us of where the story of the electric guitar truly began. This EH-185 isnāt just a relicāitās a testament to when the future of music was unfolding in real time. Plug it in, and you become part of the revolution.
Sources: Smithsonian, Vintage Guitar, Mozart Project, Gibson Pre-War, WIRED, Steel Guitar Forum, Vintaxe
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 itās always the right choice.
Saying āyes!ā to everything early on has put me in a place now where I can say no to almost everything and still be okay. That wasnāt without its challenges. Iād like to share a story about a āyesā 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 youāre 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 foolās 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 wasnāt 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 Garrisonāthatās a whoās who of the instrument when I first moved to town, and I was very much a freshman with almost no experience. Almostā¦
Iād been lucky enough to play extensively with Kenwood Dennard (Jacoās drummer), and a little with Hiram Bullock (Jacoās guitarist) before moving to NYC which helped create a little momentum, but only a VERY little.
This is where the story begins:
Iād sent Mike Stern a demo back in late ā97. Heād not only taken the time to listen to it but had called my parentsā 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 ālook me up when you get to townā 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 glamorousālong hours, terrible pay, and sometimes, after travel expenses, they cost me money to play.
āWhenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroesāthe reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do.ā
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 thingāa four-night stint at Arturo Sandovalās 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:
āHey man, whatās your scene in April? Lincoln canāt make a trip to the West Coast. Itās just one gig. Trio⦠with DENNIS CHAMBERS.ā
Mike didnāt shout Dennisā name, but thatās how I heard it. My all-time hero. Someone Iād been dreaming about playing with for over 15 years. And hereās the kicker: I had to say no.
Iād just committed to six weeks with Jojo Mayerās 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 amazingāthe 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 worldātruly 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 heroesāthe 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 continueāno matter what.
On our season two finale, the country legend details his lead-guitar tricks on one of his biggest hits.
Get out the Kleenex, hankies, or whatever you use to wipe away your tears: Itās the last episode of this season of Shred With Shifty, a media event more consequential and profound than the finales of White Lotus and Severance combined. But thereāll be some tears of joy, too, because on this season two closer, Chris Shiflett talks with one of country musicās greatest players: Vince Gill.
Gillās illustrious solo career speaks for itself, and heās played with everyone from Reba McEntire and Patty Loveless to Ricky Skaggs and Dolly Parton. He even replaced Glenn Frey in the Eagles after Freyās death in 2017. His singing prowess is matched by his grace and precision on the fretboard, skills which are on display on the melodic solo for āOne More Last Chance.ā He used the same blackguard 1953 FenderĀ Telecaster that you see in this interview to record the lead, although he might not play the solo the exact way he did back in 1992.
Tune in to learn how Gill dialed his clean tone with a tip from Roy Nichols, why he loves early blackguard Telecasters and doesnāt love shredders, and why you never want to be the best player during a studio session.
If youāre able to help, here are some charities aimed at assisting musicians affected by the fires in L.A:
https://guitarcenterfoundation.org
https://www.cciarts.org/relief.html
https://www.musiciansfoundation.org
https://fireaidla.org
https://www.musicares.org
https://www.sweetrelief.org
Credits
Producer: Jason Shadrick
Executive Producers: Brady Sadler and Jake Brennan for Double Elvis
Engineering Support by Matt Tahaney and Matt Beaudion
Video Editor: Addison Sauvan
Graphic Design: Megan Pralle
Special thanks to Chris Peterson, Greg Nacron, and the entire Volume.com crew.
Grez Guitars has introduced the Grez GrandTour Bass, a short scale semi-hollow carve-top instrument available in 4-string format.
The Grez Grand Tour Bass, designed in collaboration with bass powerhouse Ian MartinAllison is, like all Grez instruments, a modern sleek interpretation of the classic instruments from the 50ās and 60ās.
The instruments feature a carved Spruce top, Honduran Mahogany body and neck. The 30" scale construction includes a Macassar ebony fretboard, 12ā radius with 21 jumbofrets. Each bass comes equipped with a Halon bridge, Grez string anchor and LaBellaDeep Talkinā long scale 45-105 flatwound strings. Electronics include Curtis Novak Bisonic/Darkstar pickups with coil tap.
The Grand Tour bass features a nitro finish and is available in a variety of colors(pictured here in custom Toasted Marshmallow).
Grez Grand Tour Bass with Ian Martin Allison
Barry Grzebik explains: āI love process of design instruments, marrying acoustical,electrical, visual and ergonomic engineering with industrial and artistic design. In this case creating something that artfully balances the desire for a robust acoustic voice with the need to hold up to professional touring and stadium stage volumes. One small notable detail is that although this is a short scale instrument, because of the after-length of string past the bridge, it uses standard long scale strings which dramatically increases sting options and availability.ā
Ian Marin Allison shares, āIām inspired by the unique character of vintage hollow andsemi-hollow basses, but they donāt always live up to our modern expectation of stability, playability, versatility and QUALITY. Iām proud to have helped create something that doesā.
The Grez Grand Tour Bass, is available now from Grez Guitars and their dealers with astreet price starting at $5,999. Light customization is welcome with delivery times aslittle as 8 weeks.