Fender Vintera II ’50s Jazzmaster, ’60s Stratocaster, and ’70s Jaguar Review
Three new models from the Mexico-made Vintera II series offer refinements and, in some cases, uniquely stylish alternatives.
It sounds just like you want a Strat to sound—a bit boxier than top-shelf Strat’s perhaps, but colorful all the same. Nice neck. Beautiful fit and finish and a lovely rosewood fretboard.
Neck could use a bit more taper toward the nut and a little more contour at the edges. Vintage tall frets may not be everyone’s cup of tea.
$1,149
Fender Vintera II ’60s Stratocaster
fender.com
For Fender-philes that love vintage details, the first Vintera guitars, introduced in 2019, were welcome news. The Mexico-made series featured several custom colors rarely seen on the company’s more affordable instruments, the classic 7.25" fretboard radius returned, and the price was nice—most models were $899.
To players that cherished the Vintera guitars for their embrace of idiosyncratic and vintage-authentic elements, the expanded Vintera II series will probably seem like a Christmas stocking exploding from a Thanksgiving cornucopia into a Fourth of July fireworks finale. The burgeoning line now includes the Bass VI and competition stripe Mustang, a Telecaster Bass, and a Thinline Telecaster. It’s a beautiful batch of instruments that showcases some of the company’s most beloved and fascinating zigs and zags away from the norm, as well as several standard bearers.
While the three instruments that Fender sent our way don’t include the oddest of the series’ oddities, they still span the spectrum between the iconic, in the form of the ’60s Stratocaster, and more obscure instruments like the ’70s Jaguar with maple neck and black block fret markers. Two of our review guitars feature rosewood fretboards, which see a welcome return after the original Vintera series’ embrace of pau ferro fretboards. All three are built with alder bodies (only the Vintera II Telecaster Thinline is built with ash). Like just about any consumer goods, the new Vintera II guitars are affected by the realities of post-pandemic economics, and our review guitars range from $1,149 for the Stratocaster (which isn’t completely bonkers, given global inflation across the board) to $1,499 for the Jaguar, which is a bit more startling. Crossing the $1K threshold will be a tricky psychological hurdle for players accustomed to Mexico-made Fenders in the three-figure range. But as Paul Weller said, this is the modern world. And what’s reassuring is that the quality of these guitars is generally excellent, rivaling more expensive guitars in many respects.
Vintera II ’60s Stratocaster
A sunburst ’60s-style Stratocaster can elicit many different reactions: “Hello Old Faithful,” “You again?,” and “ahhhh...perfection” among them. Its form is familiar, beautiful, and balanced. In its Vintera II guise, the ’60s Stratocaster feels pretty great, too.
I once visited George Gruhn at the old Gruhn Guitars shop in Nashville and hung out a while in the little annex adjacent to the office where he kept his most primo stuff. Every A-list, vintage guitar model was there. But the one I can still feel in my hand to this day was a Lake Placid blue 1964 Stratocaster. The neck was perfect—a beautiful taper from a substantial oval at the 12th fret to a lovely, almost slim-and-narrow-feeling profile at the nut.
The Vintera II is heftier and blockier between the 5th fret and nut, and less contoured at the edges than many real ’60s Fender necks including that recalled 1964 Stratocaster. But they nail many other virtues—most notably the thickness from the 5th fret up. Like all the Vintera II guitars, and many others in the modern Fender line, the ’60s Stratocaster uses vintage tall fret wire rather than true vintage-spec frets. The difference doesn’t always feel huge, but it’s apparent. Hammer-ons and pull-offs feel a touch snappier and bending feels slick. If you have a heavy-handed approach to chording you might hear some notes go a little sharp. Players with a more nuanced touch shouldn’t have to worry much. Still, I wish Fender had gone the whole way to vintage spec and used shorter fret wire, which, in my book, feels great with a 7.25" radius. The rosewood fretboard, by the way, looks beautiful. Many of the pao ferro boards from the original Vintera could look chalky and arid, but the rosewood on the Vintera II looks deep and full of characterful grain.
Ring My Bell
Though there are many perfect amplifier companions for a vintage-style Stratocaster, I used a Tremolux piggyback and Fender Reverb tank with the reverb dwell laid on thick for much of this evaluation. The ’60s Stratocaster bridge pickup sparkles, splashes, and slashes in this very pre-CBS environment. It sounds sharp and focused, and pops with clear bell tones colored with a hint of trashy attitude. With a little less reverb, it dishes jangly Heartbreakers rhythm tones and punky Buddy Guy daggers. The out-of-phase fourth position conjures spanky Big Star-isms, and the middle position generates sweet circa-’72 Jerry Garcia dew drops and full-bodied rhythm. The neck pickup is primed for soul ballads, Gilmour space flight, and Kurt Cobain riffs. To state the obvious, these pickups cover a lot of ground. If you can level any complaint about them at all it’s that they lack some of the high-end detail of more expensive counterparts and sound a touch boxier as a result. Could you hear that in a band mix? Hard to say. I’d venture that many Stratocaster snobs would feel pretty good with taking this guitar on stage.
The Verdict
Full of punchy, spanky, slippery, and silvery tones, the ’60s Stratocaster feels like an old bud, a warm blanket, or an ages-old chisel. Like any Stratocaster, it has a very familiar, at times doctrinaire, personality. But that classic Straty-ness is sweet in the Vintera II edition.
While fit and finish were practically perfect on our test guitar, there was room for fine tuning. The G and B strings went flat more than I would like and the vibrato could be a little smoother and hold tune a bit better. I’d think these are problems easily fixed with a good setup—or even just a little care at home. That said, even in inflationary times it's nice to have those issues ironed out on a guitar north of $1K. When it’s all working though, the Vintera II ’60s Stratocaster feels alive and addictive.
Vintera II ’50s Jazzmaster
The Jazzmaster was born with about 18 months remaining in the 1950s. And while it’s easy to align the Telecaster and Stratocaster with other facets of ’50s culture and iconography, the Jazzmaster is, at least in my addled head, synonymous with the 1960s and beyond, making the notion of a representative ’50s Jazzmaster a curious one. But at least superficially, ’50s Jazzmasters were unique instruments marking a transitional time for Fender. Those in-between aesthetic elements make the ’50s Jazzmaster, which comes in desert sand and sonic blue, among the most distinctive looking guitars in the Vintera II line. Both colors are interesting choices for representing a ’50s Jazzmaster. Sonic blue is more associated with 1960s custom-color guitars, and desert sand, while a common ’50s Fender color, was generally seen on more inexpensive Duo Sonics and Musicmasters. Nevertheless, both hues look natural with the very-’50s gold-anodized pickguard. And on our desert sand review model, the rich slab-rosewood fretboard and gold pickguard help make the whole package look like a delicious chocolate-and-creme confection nestled in a gold foil wrapper. And I, for one, am all for guitar color schemes that evoke yummy food.
The Jazzmaster’s late-50s C neck is discernibly slimmer than the ’60s Stratocaster’s ’60s C shape—a potential surprise to those that associate ’50s Fenders with thick necks. Paradoxically, perhaps, the shape gives the ’50s Jazzmaster a more generic, contemporary feel than the ’60s Stratocaster. Yet it’s comfortable and feels fast, even if it leaves you longing for a little extra thickness from the 7th fret up. It’s hard to take issue with the Jazzmaster’s playability, though, which is lovely. I was certain that a Jazzmaster with a setup this low would fret out a bit, but two step bends from the 12th fret up went without a hitch. And in general the Jazzmaster feels a little faster under the fingers than the Stratocaster.
Of Zing and Springs
Like the Stratocaster’s pickups, the ’50s Jazzmaster’s pickups sound narrower and less lively in the high end than the pickups in more expensive American Vintage II counterparts (and, in this case, the 1964 Jazzmaster on hand for comparison). But the basic voice is still very recognizably a Jazzmaster, and without context—or in a mix—they would probably fool experienced listeners. The bridge pickup is sharp and zingy, the middle position atmospheric and warm. And the neck pickup is sweet and round. They are relatively free of noise, too—a distinction many Jazzmasters cannot claim.
If there is a single significant shortcoming in the ’50s Jazzmaster, it’s in the vibrato, which, in our review guitar, is prone to clacking sounds, particularly when you use a fast vibrato arm technique. This is a familiar issue in affordable, non-vintage Jazzmasters and Jaguars. (I run into Japan-made offsets from the ’90s with the same knocking problem.) Suggested and proven fixes for the issue range from loosening the vibrato tension screw to sticking tape between the bridge and vibrato plates. But given how much of the joy—and extended expressiveness— of playing a Jazzmaster is rooted in the beautifully bouncy and elastic vibrato, it would be nice to experience the best version of Jazzmaster vibrato right out of the gigbag.
The Verdict
Clicking vibrato aside, the ’50s Jazzmaster is a very well made instrument that looks and feels more expensive. The guitar’s essential voice sounds authentic if a bit less widescreen than that of a vintage or American Vintage II specimen, and it feels fantastic in hand across the whole length of the fretboard.
Vintera II ’70s Jaguar
Charting guitar fashion via the British Invasion clock, you could make the case that Fender’s Jaguar started to fall out of vogue by the summer of 1965—Chris Dreja’s appearance with one on the cover of Having a Rave Up with the Yardbirds notwithstanding. But by the early ’70s, with Stratocasters topping the Fender hit parade, Telecasters adopting very Gibson-like humbuckers, and with Marquee Moon still a few years down the road, the jet-age Jaguar had most certainly ceased to look groovy to the natural finish and bell bottoms set. That didn’t keep Fender from taking a few final stabs at breathing life into its former flagship model—yielding the maple-neck-with-black-block look of the ’70s.
Though it has its fans, the maple-necked Jaguar is a peculiar marriage of design elements. To my eye, at least, the chrome on a Jaguar works best against a simple dot-inlay rosewood fretboard, which offers balance and dark counterpoint to the gleaming metal. Both of the colors that Fender offers in the Vintera II series make the maple neck work more effectively. Against the vanilla shade of the vintage white finish, the honey-tinted maple looks like pie crust against cream, and on our gloss black review model, the black block inlay is a stylish echo of the body’s finish. Fender picked well when selecting these color schemes.
Chokin' Up
I have friends that flat-out just don’t relate to Jaguars. That’s fine. I get it. If you’re used to a 25 1/2"scale, the Jag’s 24" scale can feel pokey, plinky, and petite. Even I sometimes find it tricky to switch between a Jazzmaster and a Jaguar mid-set for this reason. But the Jaguar is also a very funky guitar—not necessarily in the James Brown sense, but in the way the shorter, more compact-feeling neck (with an extra fret, compared to the Jazzmaster and Stratocaster) feels fluid, fast, and snappy once you get used to it. The focused, not-too-muscular fundamentals sound amazing for Malian guitar textures, splashy surf tones, Velvets garage haze, and concise, fuzzy psychedelic leads. I love all of those sounds and frequently use Jaguars to make them, so you can consider my opinion biased. But I think the Jaguar functions in a unique and compelling way in these environments, and others, that will appeal to players not weighted down by tone dogma. Our review Jaguar, by the way, is the slinkiest playing of the three guitars profiled here. The short scale feels incredibly fast. The neck also has the most comfortable profile of the three guitars—a thicker C that feels substantial and serves as a nice balance to the short scale. The vibrato is pronouncedly smoother than that on the Jazzmaster and less prone to clicking noises under all but the most fast and vigorous shaking.
The pickups, like the neck, will be polarizing. I heard everything I like about Jaguars here: focus, a less bossy, less-full-spectrum output that’s chimey, airy, rich with concise overtones, and not too fat for jangly arpeggios or fast, funk rhythms. Like all the Vintera II pickups, the Jaguar’s are a little less detailed and oxygenated than more expensive or vintage counterparts, but they have the accent down. I’ve played a lot of Jags over the years, and in terms of tone, this one was no less recognizable as a Jaguar, and just as fun in most respects.
The Verdict
At $1,499, the Vintera II ’70s Jaguar is a full 200 bucks more than the Jazzmaster and 300 more than the Stratocaster. While the unusual black neck binding and block markers might account for some additional “exotic” manufacturing expense, it’s difficult to understand what accounts for the price, which starts to teeter uncomfortably away from the accessible category. Yet the Jaguar was the nicest playing and certainly the most unique feeling of the three Vintera II instruments reviewed here, and immensely inspiring for it.
Fender Vintera II Series! '50s Jazzmaster, '60s Stratocaster & '70s Jaguar Demos | First Look
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Then we give a Takamine guitar & Fishman amp to an up-and-coming Nashville musician.
Music City is always swirling with top-notch musicians performing anywhere they can, so Takamine and Fishman challenged PG's John Bohlinger to take his talents downtown to—gig on the street—where he ran into YouTube sensation DØVYDAS and hands over his gear to rising star Tera Lynne Fister.
At 81, George Benson Is Still “Bad”—With a New Archival Release and More Music on the Way
The jazz-guitar master and pop superstar opens up the archive to release 1989’s Dreams Do Come True: When George Benson Meets Robert Farnon, and he promises more fresh collab tracks are on the way.
“Like everything in life, there’s always more to be discovered,”George Benson writes in the liner notes to his new archival release, Dreams Do Come True: When George Benson Meets Robert Farnon. He’s talking about meeting Farnon—the arranger, conductor, and composer with credits alongside Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, and Vera Lynn, among many others, plus a host of soundtracks—after Quincy Jones told the guitarist he was “the greatest arranger in all the world.”
On that recommendation,Benson tapped Farnon for a 1989 recording project encompassing the jazz standards “My Romance” and “At Last” next to mid-century pop chestnut “My Prayer,” the Beatles’ “Yesterday,” and Leon Russell’s “A Song for You,” among others.
Across the album, Benson’s voice is the main attraction, enveloped by Farnon’s luxuriant big-band and string arrangements that give each track a warm, velveteen sheen. His guitar playing is, of course, in top form, and often sounds as timeless as the tunes they undertake: On “Autumn Leaves,” you could pluck the stem of the guitar solo and seat it neatly into an organ-combo reading of the tune, harkening back to the guitarist’s earlier days. But as great as any George Benson solo is bound to be, on Dreams Do Come True, each is relatively short and supportive. At this phase of his career, as on 1989’s Tenderlyand 1990’s Count Basie Orchestra-backed Big Boss Band, Benson was going through a jazz-singer period. If there’s something that sets the ballad-centric Dreams Do Come Trueapart, it’s that those other records take a slightly more varied approach to material and arranging.
When it was finished, the Benson/Farnon collaboration was shelved, and it stayed that way for 35 years. Now released, it provides a deeper revelation into this brief phase of Benson’s career. In 1993, he followed up Big Boss Man with an updated take on the smooth, slick pop that brought him blockbuster fame in the previous two decades and delivered Love Remembers.
Love is Blue (feat. The Robert Farnon Orchestra)
This kind of stylistic jumping around, of musical discovery, is a thread through Benson’s legendary career. From his days as a young child busking in Pittsburgh, where his favorite song to play was “On the Sunny Side of the Street,” he evolved through backing Brother Jack McDuff and leading his own organ combo, into his soulful and funky CTI Records phase, where he proved himself one of the most agile and adroit players in the jazz-guitar game. He eventually did the most improbable—and in anyone else’s hands thus far, impossible—feat and launched into pop superstardom with 1976’s Breezin’ and stayed there for years to come, racking up No. 1 hits and a host of Grammy awards.
At this moment, deep into his career at 81 years old, Benson continues to dive into new settings. While anyone observing from the sidelines might conclude that Benson has already excelled in more varied musical situations than any other instrumentalist, he somehow continues to discover new sides to his musicality. In 2018, he joined the Gorillaz on their technicolor indie-pop single “Humility,” and in 2020 he tracked his guitar onBootsy Collins’ “The Power of the One.” Benson assures me that not only are there more recordings in the archive that he’s waiting to reveal, but there are more wide-ranging collaborations to come.
On Dreams Do Come True, Benson covers classic jazz repertoire, plus he revisits the Beatles—whose work he covered on 1970’s The Other Side of Abbey Road—and Leon Russell, whose “This Masquerade” brought Benson a 1976 Grammy award for Record of the Year.
PG: The range of songs that you’ve played throughout your career, from your jazz records to 1970’s The Other Side ofAbbey Road or 1972’s White Rabbit album to 2019’s Chuck Berry and Fats Domino tribute, Walking to New Orleans, is so broad. Of course, now I’m thinking about the songs on Dreams Do Come True. How do you know when a song is a good fit?
George Benson: Well, you can’t get rid of it. It stays with you all the time. They keep popping up in your memory.
All the stuff that Sinatra did, and Nat King Cole did, and Dean Martin, that’s the stuff I grew up on. I grew up in a multinational neighborhood. There were only 30 African Americans in my school, and they had 1,400 students, but it was a vocational school.
I remember all that stuff like yesterday because it’s essential to who I am today. I learned a lot from that. You would think that would be a super negative thing. Some things about it were negative—you know, the very fact that there were 1,400 students and only 30 African Americans. But what I learned in school was how to deal with people from all different parts of the world.
After my father made my first electric guitar. I made my second one….
You made your second guitar?
Benson: Yeah, I designed it. My school built it for me. I gave them the designs, sent it down to the shop, they cut it out, I sent it to the electric department, and then I had to put on the strings myself. I brought my amplifier to school and plugged it in. Nobody believed it would work, first of all. When I plugged it in, my whole class, they couldn’t believe that it actually worked. So, that became my thing, man. “Little Georgie Benson—you should hear that guitar he made.”“I can let my mind go free and play how I feel.”
George Benson's Gear
The Benson-designed Ibanez GB10 was first introduced in 1977.
Photo by Matt Furman
Strings & Picks
- Ibanez George Benson Signature pick
- Thomastik-Infeld George Benson Jazz Strings
Accessories
- Radial JDI Passive Direct Box
So, your environment informed the type of music you were listening to and playing from a young age.
Benson: No doubt about it, man. Because remember, rock ’n’ roll was not big. When the guitar started playing with the rock bands, if you didn’t have a guitar in your band, you weren’t really a rock band. But that was later, though. It started with those young groups and all that hip doo-wop music.
I was known in Pittsburgh as Little Georgie Benson, singer. Occasionally, I would have the ukulele or guitar when the guitar started to get popular.
What’s your playing routine like these days? Do you play the guitar every day, and what do you play?
Benson: Not like I used to. Out of seven days, I probably play it four or five days.
I used to play virtually every day. It was just a natural thing for me to pick up. I had guitars strategically placed all over my house. As soon as I see one, my brain said, “Pick that up.” So, I would pick it up and start playing with new ideas. I don’t like going over the same thing over and over again because it makes you boring. I would always try to find something fresh to play. That’s not easy to do, but it is possible.
I’m looking for harmony. I’m trying to connect things together. How do I take this sound or this set of chord changes and play it differently? I don’t want to play it so everybody knows where I’m going before I even get there, you know?
“I wasn’t trying to sound loud. I was trying to sound good.”
How did you develop your guitar tone, and what is important about a guitar tone?
Benson: Years ago, the guitar was an accompaniment or background instrument, usually accompanying somebody or even accompanying yourself. But it was not the lead instrument necessarily. If they gave you a solo, you got a chance to make some noise.
As it got serious later on, I started looking for a great sound. I thought it was in the size of the guitar. So, I went out and bought this tremendously expensive guitar, big instrument. And I found that, yeah, that had a big sound, but that was not it. I couldn’t make it do what I wanted it to do. I found that it comes from my phrasing, the way I phrase things and the way I set up my guitar, and how I work with the amplifier. I wasn’t trying to sound loud. I was trying to sound good.
George Benson at Carnegie Hall in New York City on September 23,1981. The previous year, he received Grammy awards for “Give Me the Night,” “Off Broadway,” and “Moody’s Mood.”
Photo by Ebet Roberts
When I think about your playing, I’m automatically thinking about your lead playing so much of the time. But I think that your rhythm playing is just as iconic. What do you think is the most important thing about rhythm guitar parts, comping, and grooving?
Benson: That word comp, I finally found out what it really represents. I worked with a man called Jack McDuff, who took me out of Pittsburgh when I was 19 years old. He used to get mad at me all the time. “Why are you doing this? Why are you doing that? I can’t hear what you’re playing because you play so low”—because I used to be scared. I didn’t want people to hear what I was playing because then they would realize I didn’t know what I was doing, you know? I would play very mousy. He said, “Man, I don’t know if you play good or bad because I can’t hear you. Man, play out. People don’t know what you’re playing. They’ll accept whatever it is you do; they’ll think you meant to do it. Either it’s good or bad.”
So I started playing out and I found there’s a great truth in what he said. When you play out, you sound like you know what you’re doing. People say, “Oh wow, this cat is a monster.” It either feels good and sounds good or it doesn’t. So, I learned how to make those beeps and bops and things sound good and feel good.
The word comp comes from complementing. Whoever’s coming in to solo is out front. I gotta make them sound good. And that’s why people call me today. I had a record with a group called the Gorillaz. That’s the reason why they called me is because they realized that I knew what to do when I come to complement somebody. I did not have a lead role in that song. But I loved playing it once I found the space for me. I said, “Man, I don’t wanna just play it on an album. I wanna mean something.”
I did something with Bootsy Collins, who is a monster. I said, “Why is he calling me? I’m not a monster, man.” But he heard something in me he wanted on his record, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. I said, “No, I don’t think I can do it, man. I don’t think I can do you any good.” He said, “Try something, man. Try anything.” So I did. I didn’t think I could do that, but it came out good. Now I’m getting calls from George Clinton.
You worked on something with George Clinton?
Benson: Not yet, but that’s what I’m working on now, because he called me and said, “Man, do something with me.”
That’s not going to be easy. You know, I gotta find something that fits his personality, and where I can enhance it, not just throw something together, because that wouldn’t be right for the public. We want something musical, something that lasts for a long time.
“I can let my mind go free and play how I feel.”
In the liner notes for Dreams Do Come True, you say that there’s always more to be discovered. You just mentioned the Gorillaz, then Bootsy Collins and George Clinton. You have such a wide, open exploration of music. How has discovery and exploration guided your career?
Benson: Well, this is the thing that we didn’t have available a few years ago. Now, we can play anything. You couldn’t cross over from one music to another without causing some damage to your career, causing an uproar in the industry.
When Wes Montgomery did “Going Out of My Head” and Jimmy Smith did “Walk on the Wild Side,” it caused waves in the music industry, because radio was not set up for that. You were either country or jazz or pop or blues or whatever it was. You weren’t crossing over because there was no way to get that played. Now there is.
Because I’ve had something to do with most of those things I just mentioned, my mind goes back to when I was thinking, “What if I played it like this? No, people won’t like that. What if I played it like this? Now, they won’t like that either.” Now, I can let my mind go free and play how I feel, and they will find some way to get it played on the air.
YouTube It
George Benson digs into the Dave Brubeck-penned standard “Take Five” at the height of the ’80s, showing his unique ability to turn any tune into a deeply grooving blaze-fest.
The new Jimi Hendrix documentary chronicles the conceptualization and construction of the legendary musician’s recording studio in Manhattan that opened less than a month before his untimely death in 1970. Watch the trailer now.
Abramorama has recently acquired global theatrical distribution rights from Experience Hendrix, L.L.C., and will be premiering it on August 9 at Quad Cinema, less than a half mile from the still fully-operational Electric Lady Studios.
Jimi Hendrix - Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision (Documentary Trailer)
“The construction of Electric Lady [Studios] was a nightmare,” recalls award-winning producer/engineer and longtime Jimi Hendrix collaborator Eddie Kramer in the trailer. “We were always running out of money. Poor Jimi had to go back out on the road, make some money, come back, then we could pay the crew . . . Late in ’69 we just hit a wall financially and the place just shut down. He borrows against the future royalties and we’re off to the races . . . [Jimi] would say to me, ‘Hey man, I want some of that purple on the wall, and green over there!’ We would start laughing about it. It was fun. We could make an atmosphere that he felt comfortable in and that he was able to direct and say, ‘This is what I want.’”
Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision recounts the creation of the studio, rising from the rubble of a bankrupt Manhattan nightclub to becoming a state-of-the-art recording facility inspired by Hendrix’s desire for a permanent studio. Electric Lady Studios was the first-ever artist-owned commercial recording studio. Hendrix had first envisioned creating an experiential nightclub. He was inspired by the short-lived Greenwich Village nightspot Cerebrum whose patrons donned flowing robes and were inundated by flashing lights, spectral images and swirling sound. Hendrix so enjoyed the Cerebrum experience that he asked its architect John Storyk to work with him and his manager Michael Jeffery. Hendrix and Jeffery wanted to transform what had once been the Generation Club into ‘an electric studio of participation’. Shortly after acquiring the Generation Club lease however, Hendrix was steered from building a nightclub to creating a commercial recording studio.
Directed by John McDermott and produced by Janie Hendrix, George Scott and McDermott, the film features exclusive interviews with Steve Winwood (who joined Hendrix on the first night of recording at the new studio), Experience bassist Billy Cox and original Electric Lady staff members who helped Hendrix realize his dream. The documentary includes never-before-seen footage and photos as well as track breakdowns of Hendrix classics such as “Freedom,” “Angel” and “Dolly Dagger” by Eddie Kramer.
The documentary explains in depth that while Jimi Hendrix’s death robbed the public of so much potential music, the continued success of his recording studio provides a lasting legacy beyond his own music. John Lennon, The Clash, AC/DC, Chic, David Bowie, Stevie Wonder, Lady Gaga, Beyoncé and hundreds more made records at Electric Lady Studios, which speaks to one of Jimi’s lasting achievements in an industry that has radically changed over the course of the last half century.
PG contributor Tom Butwin dives into the Rivolta Sferata, part of the exciting new Forma series. Designed by Dennis Fano and crafted in Korea, the Sferata stands out with its lightweight simaruba wood construction and set-neck design for incredible playability.