“As a repairman working on every conceivable type of guitar, I became convinced that vintage instruments were desirable not because they had improved with age, but because they had been built differently from current models,” says Paul Reed Smith.
PRS himself talks about learning from Ted McCarty, building guitars for the stars, elbowing the competition, his distinctive headstock design, and more.
Paul Reed Smith could be gloating. At a time when other majors have made layoffs or are coming down from the lockdown-era sales buzz, the company the luthier founded literally with his own hands in 1985 has become a $100-million business. PRS Guitars’ $849 SE Silver Sky—a 6-stringed Clydesdale—was this year’s top seller on Reverb. Recently, the Stevensville, Maryland-based operation introduced its debut pedals, plus a limited-run Robben Ford signature axe that’s a Rolls-Royce with strings. And a raft of new instruments are already in the wings for 2023.
Instead, at an early November party Smith threw at Nashville’s Soundcheck rehearsal complex during CMA week, he reflected humility. Smith addressed the roomful of players, emotionally recalling the 2015 CMA Awards, where the count of PRS instruments onstage was literally neck-and-neck with the population of Fenders and Gibsons for the first time. That ceremony was an ignition point for greater success as well as an affirmation for the guitars that bear his name.
“We don’t want to be a brand,” he told the crowd. “We want to be guitar makers. Country guitarists really helped take us to another level. I am truly grateful.”
“We didn’t have heaters and we were wearing winter coats inside, because if you opened the door for a delivery, it got to be 30 degrees in there.”
Besides his passion for pursing all aspects of what goes into creating guitars, that humility—sometimes inflicted upon him—has played a role in his success. Smith found his calling while at St. Mary’s College, at the opposite end of the state from his native Bowie, Maryland. Lacking a guitar and the cash to buy one, he persuaded a music teacher to let him build a guitar for credit. He got an A, of course. He also dropped out to play and repair guitars, opening a shop in a reputedly haunted garret in Annapolis.
“As a repairman working on every conceivable type of guitar, I became convinced that vintage instruments were desirable not because they had improved with age, but because they had been built differently from current models,” Smith relates. “The reason some of the electrics from the ’50s and early ’60s felt and sounded so good was that a great attention to detail went into the manufacturing process, and that the manufacturers had a real sense for the subtle points.”
Racked and ready: Four decks of PRS guitar necks wait for their final destinations at the company’s Stevensville, Maryland, guitar-building location.
Pondering how to reintroduce these characteristics in the instruments he wanted to build, Smith hit upon the idea of contacting Ted McCarty, who was president of Gibson from 1950 to 1966—the golden era of electric guitar making. “I would sit at the shop, and I was afraid to call him,” Smith says. “We didn’t have heaters and we were wearing winter coats inside, because if you opened the door for a delivery, it got to be 30 degrees in there. So, Clay Evans [a friend and, later, early PRS executive] and I are wearing our coats, and Clay’s saying ‘Call him! Just call him!’ And I’m like, ‘I can’t....’ But I called him and explained who I was and what I did, and he asked, ‘Would you be willing to come visit?’ So, we picked a date, and I went.
“The first time I went, he got very, very upset at the end of the interview. It was about three hours. And I said, ‘What’s wrong?’ He goes, ‘Nobody’s asked me these questions in 30 years. Nobody’s asked me how to glue the fingerboard on, what glue we used to glue the frets in…. All they want to know is how to get rich quick. ‘Where can I find a Les Paul? Where can I find a Flying V? Where can I find an Explorer?’ Nobody’s asked me these guitar-making questions, and this is how I made my living.’
“I thought it was beautiful,” Smith continues. “I just kept coming back and coming back. I was very grateful for his attention, and it ended up being a grandfather relationship. I sang to him on his deathbed, with a guitar.” And, of course, Smith also paid tribute to his historic mentor with PRS’ vintage-informed McCarty series.
Over the decades, Smith and his team have made guitars for a coterie of world-class players that includes John McLaughlin (including a 6- and 12-string doubleneck), David Grissom, Nancy Wilson, Mark Tremonti, Jimmy Herring, Mark Lettieri, and, of course, Carlos Santana.
“What Robben Ford wanted and what David Grissom wants is that every one of those models we ship is a his-caliber instrument. He doesn’t want just the couple we tweak for him and then put his name on a bunch of others.”
“The first guitar I made for Carlos Santana changed my life,” Smith offers. “At first, he didn’t see me as a guitar maker. He made me earn his respect, which I honor. He said the first instruments I gave him were ‘accidents of God.’ He thought it was like somebody wrote a hit song, but it was almost an accident—and he didn’t see me as a repetitive hit writer. He literally said, ‘Okay, it’s an act of God, can you make me another one?’ Then, after the fifth instrument, which was a doubleneck, he called me up and said, ‘Okay, you’re a guitar maker.’ That was tremendous. Every Christmas he would call and thank me about the sound coming out of his guitar. He thought of it as a big, male saxophone tone, and he adored it.”
So, what does a world-class musician demand in a guitar? “If you look at guitars in general as a line, and about four-fifths of the way along that line you draw a vertical line through it, what’s beyond that graduates from being a guitar to a musical instrument,” Smith says. “They want musical instruments. What Robben Ford wanted and what David Grissom wants is that every one of those models we ship is a his-caliber instrument.
Initial sanding happens after the overall body shape, electronics cavities, and other cuts are made.
He doesn’t want just the couple we tweak for him and then put his name on a bunch of others. Carlos Santana wants a guitar that he can take out of the factory, put in the limo, go to the gig, pull it out, and play it. And by the way, I’ve watched him do that. It’s a little scary to have him play to 15,000 people with a guitar that’s only been played about a minute-and-a-quarter its entire life. David Grissom does not take a guitar to clinics. He takes ones off the wall at the store to hold my hands to the fire. Carlos calls me constantly and has requests to make ’em better. David wants them better. He just got one that has a hollow, single f-hole in it, and he’s losing his noodles over it.”
It’s been years since Smith has built a guitar himself. “I have a bench where I repair audio gear, and I’m my wife’s furniture repair person, but that’s it,” he says. Nonetheless, he is a regular presence on the PRS factory floor, checking the progress on models in development, eyeballing the wood inventory, checking out pickups, offering suggestions, and evaluating as he formulates plans for the company’s future. “It’s almost a soothsayer job,” he offers. “It’s like having a crystal ball, but you gotta do it from experience, with your ear to the tracks.”
A high-quality instrument starts with good tonewood, and the factory keeps an abundant inventory for both necks and bodies.
Part of that is trying to rout the competition, which he obviously enjoys. At the Nashville party, Smith recounted a story about paying top dollar for a Klon Centaur, and then putting it through its paces. Pleasing at it was, he felt there were shortfalls in tone and control, so he decided to try to beat it. The result is PRS’ Horsemeat Transparent Overdrive (get it?), but his company’s engineers took it a step further, also designing the Mary Cries Optical Compressor and the Wind Through the Trees Analog Flanger, which all debuted in September. Nonetheless, Smith’s goal was not to expand into pedal making, but rather to lure players who’ve avoided PRS. “I’ve actually heard comments like, ‘I like these pedals, maybe I’ll look at their guitars again,’” he says.
Earlier last year, he took on the template, working-player’s Stratocaster with the release of the SE Silver Sky, a low-cost, high-performance version of PRS’ John Mayer signature model. When I mention the guitar, his immediate response is, “How about those pickups?” He then related that he worked with his suppliers in Indonesia, where the guitar is built, for two years on the remarkably wide-ranged pickups. “Initially, they weren’t right, and we didn’t have direct control over their creation, like we do with models we build here, but the pickups still had to lay in exactly the right place sonically. When John played ’em, he thought they were the best overseas-made single-coils he’d ever heard, and he signed off on them literally that second.”
“The first guitar I made for Carlos Santana changed my life,” Smith offers. “At first, he didn’t see me as a guitar maker. He made me earn his respect.”
Although much has changed over the decades at PRS, the company’s distinctive three-and-three headstocks have remained unchanged since the early ’80s—despite being a turn-off for some trad-minded players. Smith explains why: “The design was half practical and half reflective of the front curve of the guitar. It’s like a Dan Armstrong headstock, where the strings went straight to the tuning pegs. On a Fender, they went straight to the tuning pegs, but they were all on one side. That it goes straight to the tuning pegs is important.
“When I started putting tremolos on guitars, Carlos Santana ordered one and he goes, ‘It’s gonna stay in tune, right?’ I said, ‘Sure!’ I had no idea how I was going to do it. Turns out what makes a difference is how you cut the nut, having it as close to the tuning pegs as possible. Also, the strings need to be as straight as possible, and you have to reduce the headstock angle. It’s a combination of those three dimensions.”
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Leveraging 3D printing technology, the new Floyd Rose Original locking nuts are designed to deliver unmatched precision and consistency, replacing the traditional “lost wax” casting method that dominated for decades.
The shift to 3D printing allows for intricate detailing and tighter tolerances, ensuring each nut meets exact specifications.
The process begins with powdered metal, which is precisely 3D printed into the desired shape using advanced metal printing technology. After printing, the parts are depowdered and cleaned before undergoing a sintering process—an advanced heat treatment—during which the parts achieve full density and hardness. Lastly, the nuts are CNC “kiss-cut” to exacting specifications for consistency and control of the fit before receiving a premium electroplating finish.
“Floyd Rose has always been synonymous with innovation, and by embracing this incredible new technology we are able to continue that legacy,” said Andrew Papiccio, president of AP International Music Supply of which Floyd Rose is a division. “The accuracy and flexibility of the new 3D printing method will allow us to make a more consistent piece while also giving us full control of the manufacturing right here in the USA.”
Initially, the 3D-printed locking nuts will be available in ten classic sizes with a 10” radius, with plans to expand the range to accommodate various fretboard radii in Spring 2025. This augmentation will offer players more options for customizing their setups to match a wide variety of fretboard curvatures.
To get a sneak peek at the new Floyd Rose USA Series, come visit us at NAMM in booth 5734 in Hall D.
With flexible voltage adjustments, precise control, customizable protection, compact design, and affordable pricing at $299, the Brownie is the ultimate solution for optimizing tone and safeguarding your gear.
AmpRx, the trusted name behind the industry-renowned BrownBox, has unveiled its newest innovation: The Brownie, a voltage-optimizing power supply for modern amps and the first of its kind.
Designed by AmpRx co-owner and CEO Cassandra Sotos (2024 NAMM Female Entrepreneur of the Year), the Brownie provides unparalleled control, flexibility, and protection specifically for modern tube amplifiers by allowing the player to both increase and decrease voltage with volt-by-volt precision.
Priced at $299, the Brownie offers an affordable and essential solution for protecting your investment in your high-quality tube amp. It allows you to optimize your tone and safeguard your gear from variations in voltage by givingthe ultimate advantage: knowing exactly what you’re feeding your amp.
Known as the secret weapon of touring professionals, AmpRx products have been spotted on stage with bands like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Zac Brown Band, Iron Maiden, and many more. AmpRx is now bringing its game-changing technology to an even broader audience with this compact, affordable, and versatile product. Try the Brownie for yourself and discover exactly why artists, amp designers, and technicians rely on AmpRx to provide consistent sound, performance, and extend the life of their gear.
The Brownie will be available January 20th, 2025, presented at NAMM Global Media Day and on display at Booth #5630.
WHAT MAKES THE BROWNIE SPECIAL? Building on the success of the flagship BrownBox, the Brownie offers key innovations tailored for modern amplifiers:
- Flexible Voltage Adjustments: The Brownie is the first in the AmpRx line to both decrease and increase voltage, providing optimal performance for modern tube amps (often at 117-120V).
- Precise Control: Adjust voltage in ultra-precise -1V increments when decreasing, and by +3V or +5Vwhen increasing, allowing musicians to fine-tune their tone with precision.
- Customizable Protection: The Brownie ensures safe operation, putting control directly in the player's hands, and includes two fuse options: 2A for smaller setups and 4A for larger setups, ensuring compatibility with diverse gear.
- Compact and Portable Design: Smaller and lighter than the original BrownBox, the Brownie is perfect for musicians seeking portability, durability, and streamlined functionality. It can even fit on a pedalboard or in a backpack.
- Wide Accessibility: At just $299, the Brownie offers professional-grade voltage control at a price point that’s accessible to musicians everywhere.
Email sales@brownbox.rocks to order and stop by NAMM Booth #5630 to see the Brownie in action, talk with the owners, team and artists, and see exactly why so many people insist onAmpRx products when they make music.
For more information, please visit brownbox.rocks.
Inspecting a D’Angelico Excel during a full restoration.
When every guitar claims to be special, how can any guitar truly stand out?
In the guitar world, a transformation is underway that reminds me of the rise and fall of empires. The modern boutique guitar market, which once felt to me like an underground treasure trove, now seems poised on the precipice. It has grown, matured, and, in my opinion, overextended itself. Are we cresting the wave? Has the boutique boom run its course, or is it simply shedding its skin in metamorphosis?
Guitar building has been around for centuries, mostly as an individual, artisanal endeavor until the late 19th century, when it began to be dominated by manufacturing entities. The boutique guitar category as we know it today began as a reaction to the hegemony of big brands. It was a calling and philosophy—a return to individual builders and small shop manufacturers in the mainstream consciousness. Builders crafted instruments that evoked the patinated romance of vintage instruments as well as the hot-rod aesthetic. What started with a handful of outliers has now become an ecosystem. But, like all trends, there’s a limit to how far it can stretch before it must adapt or collapse.
Pioneers to Proliferation
In the early 1970s, builders like Rick Turner, John Suhr, Michael Gurian, and Bernie Rico, among others, stook as renegades of the modern boutique scene. They were voices bucking the production-line trend with craftsmanship that evoked past masters like D’Angelico, Bigsby, or even Stradivarius. These builders weren’t just producing instruments; they were making statements. A guitar by Parker or a Manzer wasn’t just a tool, it was a declaration of the builder’s ethos and vision—something that might have been lost in the guitar boom of the ’60s.
Today, the boutique world is a crowded stage where hundreds, if not thousands, of builders compete for the attention of an audience with only so much disposable income. Plus, the custom allure is no longer the sole province of artisans; custom shop offerings from major brands like Fender, Gibson, and PRS have blurred the lines. CNC machining and production streamlining have made “boutique” features practical, even necessary, for larger operations. To their credit, unlike at the birth of the vintage market, the big guys saw the wave as well. The once-clear delineation between boutique and mainstream is murkier than ever, which by its nature dilutes everyone’s impact in the segment.
In economic terms, this is a textbook example of market saturation. There are only so many players willing and able to spend $5,000, $10,000, or more on a guitar. Supply has exploded, but demand may be plateauing. Handmade boutique guitars, once a rarefied niche, are now ubiquitous at trade shows, online marketplaces, and across social media feeds. This leads me to a pressing question: When every guitar claims to be special, how can any guitar truly stand out?
The Instagram Paradox
Online, custom guitars have become as much about image as they are about sound. It seems any builder with a board and a butter knife is trolling for your approval. A scroll through Instagram reveals a sea of small-batch instruments, but there’s a creeping sense of déjà vu. How many “offset” guitars with stained burl tops and pre-distressed finishes can one truly appreciate before they begin to blur together? Social media, once a powerful tool for builders to connect with their clientele, has become a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it’s never been easier to showcase work to a global audience. On the other, the sheer volume of content has weakened the impact.
“A guitar by Parker or a Manzer wasn’t just a tool, it was a declaration of the builder’s ethos and vision—something that might have been lost in the guitar boom of the ’60s.”
The Buyer’s Shift
Meanwhile, players too are evolving. With the pandemic-fueled spike in sales fading, some tastes are turning away from the museum-worthy builds in favor of simpler, more traditional guitars. In a way, the legacy brands may now be a salve for the disaffected. In an ironic twist, they are seen as the true foundation of the industry—the original and genuine as opposed to a hip fad.
What Comes Next?
So, has the boutique guitar market peaked? Perhaps. But a peak doesn’t necessarily signal decline. Just as the boutique segment was born from a reaction to mass production, the next wave may be driven by a return to fundamentals. Builders who adapt to a changing landscape or who have built their own legacy will continue to thrive. Those who have not entered the general consciousness may find themselves left behind.
In the end, the boutique guitar market will endure, not because of its size, but because of its soul. Just as guitar building began as an individual endeavor, that heritage will continue. The challenge is to capture the essence of what makes a guitar special in the first place: the connection between builder and player—and the magic of turning wood and wire into music.