
Jol Dantzig expounds on the importance of listening while you work and how he learned to hate the iPod.
The look on Ray’s face was a mixture of surprise and outrage. He was trying to keep his anger in check, but his clenched fists were giving him away. Ray was a fairly new hire who had been making good progress, and I knew he was working hard to make a good impression on me and everyone else in the shop. It was obvious he liked making guitars, but he had a long way to go before the more seasoned builders would trust him with anything sharp. This particular morning, he had been jockeying a bass against the polishing wheel with his back to me as I called out his name twice. I’d noticed the telltale white wires coming from his over-ear sound-protection muffs, and once I had his full attention, I asked him to remove the buds from his ears—permanently.
“I’m listening to Pearl Jam,” he explained. “We make instruments for Jeff Ament, I’m …” Ray struggled for the right words that would convey his dedication and total commitment to his craft. “We’re part of the music business,” he continued with his voice starting to rise in pitch. “I’d think that it would be part of the job—I care about this.” His words trailed off as he shook his head. He knew ear protection was mandatory in the noisy shop, so he couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong. Why was I singling him out?
“Look Ray,” I began, “I know you’re passionate about music, and that’s good. I like that you’re connected to what we do here. But you have to be able to hear the work talking to you.” Ray’s forehead wrinkled below the edge of his knit cap. He remained silent, but his eyes said: What the fuck are you talking about?
It wasn’t the first time (or the last) that my mentoring style elicited this response. There were a dozen ways I could have put this to him, but I wanted it to stick. “You need to listen to the sounds around you,” I explained. “Every operation here makes two kinds of noise: one when you are doing it correctly, and the other when something’s going wrong.” Ray’s expression was now one of curiosity. “Learning those sounds can make you a better craftsman,” I continued, “and can also save your ass.” I again asked him not to use the earbuds, and left him to finish his job.
Excessive noise in a guitar shop—either machinery or loud music—can be detrimental to your long-term hearing. If you are a music fan, this will be a crushing blow to you later in life, so prepare for it now.
Most hearing protection—be it earplugs or over-the-ear muffs—with a sound attenuation factor of 30 to 40 dB reduces the din of a noisy workshop while still allowing you to hear the important sounds that almost subconsciously guide you. Another bonus is that constant noise is fatiguing, so you’ll feel better at the end of the day if you protect your hearing.
Every task has its own song. A planer or jointer chirps at the end of a pass when the feed rollers or tables need adjustment. A band saw has a whole vocabulary of sounds that tell you when guides are worn or misaligned, or if you are cutting too fast or turning too sharply. I have known woodworkers who can hear when a band saw blade is about to break. If you’ve ever worked on a really big one, you know how that gets your attention.
There is a distinct howl that router bits make when they are dulling or when the chip clearance angle is compromised with wood-pitch buildup. Occasionally, bits and blades can have incorrect geometry—even if fresh from the factory or a sharpening service—which makes them dangerous to use. These tools produce unusual sounds that can tip you off immediately. If you return that tool right away, not only will you avoid injury or damaging parts, it will also be clear to the vendor that you didn’t just wear it out.
Hand tools like chisels and planes have a certain sound when they are happy, and complain when they are not. Cabinet scrapers have a signature song when they are properly burred. Drills make a squealing noise when dull, pushed too hard, or when you’ve chosen the wrong speed for the diameter of your bit. The simple acts of filing frets or shaping a string nut each have a smooth tone when things are going well, yet make chattering noises when done incorrectly.
If you spend time working with tools—no matter what you’re making—I’ve made my best case for paying attention to the whispering of the wood and steel surrounding you in the shop. It can save you time, money, and even protect your health.
So, how did that conversation with the shop newbie pan out? Not too long after that, Ray learned about the noise a buffing wheel makes when it gets too close to a guitar’s edge, followed by the sound of the instrument bouncing loudly off the shop floor. Many years later, we laughed about it.
Our columnist’s collection of moon spruce, ready for inspection—with a view.
As players get older, our instrument needs change. Our columnist shares how he designed an acoustic adapted to arthritis.
For many acoustic guitarists, playing the instrument is one of life’s greatest joys. As a luthier, I’ve seen firsthand how deeply musicians cherish their guitars, something they look forward to playing not just weekly, but daily. As any guitarist knows, some guitars simply feel different. While some are more rigid and require extra effort to play, others feel smooth and effortless. With this in mind, as our playing needs evolve, so too may the instruments we choose to accompany us.
My clientele is diverse, ranging from musicians in their 20s to those well into their 70s and 80s. One common challenge I have observed is that as players reach their 50s, many begin experiencing arthritis, which can hinder their ability to play comfortably. There are several techniques luthiers use to improve playability, such as lowering the action or opting for a shorter scale length; for instance, switching from a Martin 25.4" scale to a Gibson 24.750" scale. But, over the years, I began considering whether it would be possible to design a guitar specifically for players with arthritis, allowing them to continue playing with less strain on their hands, shoulders, and overall body.
My guitars are already designed to be exceptionally easy to play. They are not built for aggressive strumming or rugged outdoor use, though I can accommodate various styles. Recently, I took this concept a step further for a customer, creating an instrument with a smaller neck. Moving away from the traditional 1.750" nut width, I refined it to a slender 1.675". The string spacing at the bridge was adjusted to 2 3/16" instead of the wider 2 1/4" spacing used primarily for fingerstyle playing. Additionally, I incorporated a 25" scale length for a lower string tension at full pitch.
Combined with a 13-frets-to-the-body design, these adjustments made the guitar feel significantly smaller and more comfortable in the player’s hands. To enhance comfort further, I used an orchestra-class instrument, and added both an arm and belly bevel, reducing strain on the player’s shoulders. Even though I chose an OM for this build, an auditorium-class design would work well, too.
However, the most crucial aspect of this instrument was the top, which serves as its engine. I selected a piece of moon spruce, personally sourced in Switzerland in August of last year. This type of spruce is lightweight and highly responsive. More importantly, when voiced and tuned correctly, it requires minimal effort to produce sound and it has a higher level of admittance.
“Any movement on the strings, whether by the picking hand or the fretting hand, requires significantly less effort than on a traditional guitar.”
Admittance is a crucial factor when evaluating any musical instrument, whether one you are building or considering for purchase. In guitars and tonewoods, admittance is the amount of sound that can be produced with a standard level of effort. If a piece of wood has a high level of damping, it will not produce sound efficiently when built into a guitar, resulting in an instrument that is less enjoyable to play. Conversely, if the wood exhibits an extremely low level of damping, the guitar may feel responsive and lively, but this does not necessarily indicate a well-balanced instrument. Damping must be carefully controlled, particularly in the soundboard, to achieve an ideal balance. A properly voiced guitar should provide excellent responsiveness, a full and resonant sound, and treble frequencies that are rich and warm rather than thin or overly sharp. Thus, when discussing these aspects of guitar construction and tonewood selection, the key term to remember is admittance. For this build I was looking for high admittance while retaining a deep, well-balanced tone.
For the player, this means that even with standard tuning at A440 and regardless of whether they choose light or medium strings, though light gauge is preferable, the guitar remains incredibly soft to play. Any movement on the strings, whether by the picking hand or the fretting hand, requires significantly less effort than on a traditional guitar. This is due to the top’s high flexibility and responsiveness, allowing for a soft touch while maintaining a respectable level of volume.
For those dealing with arthritis or other hand-related challenges, selecting a softer-playing guitar is essential. Shorter scale lengths can be beneficial, but having an instrument custom-built by a luthier who understands these considerations can make a significant difference. For my customers facing these issues, my goal is to ensure they can continue playing for as long as possible. I recognize how important the guitar is to their lives, and I want to help them keep playing without unnecessary discomfort. If you are experiencing difficulties, there are options available, and solutions worth exploring.
Valerie June’s songs, thanks to her distinctive vocal timbre and phrasing, and the cosmology of her lyrics, are part of her desire to “co-create a beautiful life” with the world at large.
The world-traveling cosmic roots rocker calls herself a homebody, but her open-hearted singing and songwriting––in rich display on her new album Owls, Omens, and Oracles––welcomes and embraces inspiration from everything … including the muskrat in her yard.
I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun in an interview as I did speaking with roots-rock artist Valerie June about her new release, Owls, Omens, and Oracles. At the end of our conversation, after going over schedule by about 15 minutes, her publicist curbed us with a gentle reminder. In fairness, maybe we did spend a bit too much time talking about non-musical things, such as Seinfeld, spirituality, and the fauna around her home in Humboldt, Tennessee.
YouTube
If you’re familiar with June’s sound, you know how effortlessly she stands out from the singer-songwriter pack. Her equal-parts warm, reedy, softly Macy Gray-tinged singing voice imprints on her as many facets as a radiant-cut emerald—and it possesses the trademark sincerity heard in the most distinctive of singer/songwriters. Her music, overall, brilliantly shines with a spirited, contagiously uplifting glow.
Owls, Omens, and Oracles opens with “Joy, Joy!” with producer M. Ward rocking lead guitar over strings (June plays acoustic on nearly all of the tracks and banjo on one). It then recurringly dips into ’50s doo-wop chord changes, blends chugging, at times funky rock rhythms with saxophones and horns, bursts with New Orleans-style brass on “Changed” (which features gospel legends the Blind Boys of Alabama), and explores a slow soul groove with electronic guest DJ Cavem Moetavation on “Superpower.” Bright Eyes’ multi-instrumentalist Nate Walcott helmed the arrangements with guidance from Ward and June, and frequently appears on piano and Hammond organ, while Norah Jones supports with backing vocals on the folk lullaby “Sweet Things Just for You.” The entire album was recorded live to tape, which was a new experience for June.
June shares her perspective on the album and her work, overall. “It’s not ever complete or finished, your study of art,” she offers. “It’s an adventure, and it keeps getting prettier as you walk through the meadow of creating or learning new things. Every artist that you bring in has a different way of performing with you, or the audience might be really talkative or super quiet. And all of that shapes the art—so it’s ever-expansive. It’s pretty infinite [laughs], where art can take you and where it goes.... I kinda got lost there a little bit,” she muses, laughing.June’s favored acoustic guitar is this Martin 000-15M, with mahogany top, back, and sides.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
June didn’t connect with guitar in the beginning, but discovered her passion for it later, when the instrument became a vehicle for her self-empowerment. She took lessons as a teenager but was a distracted student, preferring to listen to her teacher share the history of blues guitarists like Big Bill Broonzy and Mississippi John Hurt. “I didn’t pick it up again until I was in my early 20s, and my band that I was in with my ex fell apart,” she says. “I still was singing and I still was hearing these beautiful voices sing me these songs, and I didn’t want to never be able to perform them. It was a terrible feeling, to be … musically stranded.
“And I was like, ‘Now, I could go get a new band and get some more accompaniment, but how ’bout I get my tail in there and keep my promise to my granddad who gave me that first guitar and actually learn how to play it, so I’ll never feel like this again.’ The goal was that I would never be musically stranded again.”
She became a solo performer, learning lap steel and banjo along with guitar, and called her style “organic moonshine roots music.” Today, she eschews picks for fingers, even when strumming chords, and is a vital blues-and-folk based stylist when she lays into her playing–especially in a live,solo setting. After two self-released albums, 2006’s The Way of the Weeping Willow and 2008’s Mountain of Rose Quartz, she connected with the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach, who recorded and produced her 2013 album, Pushin’ Against Stone, at Nashville’s Easy Eye Sound, which helped launch her now-flourishing career.
Valerie June’s Gear
Guitars
Amps
- Fender Deluxe Reverb
Effects
- TC Electronic Hall of Fame
- MXR X Third Man Hardware Double Down booster
- J. Rockett Audio Archer boost/overdrive
Strings
- D’Addario XL Nickel Regular Light (.010–.046)
- Martin Marquis Silked Phosphor Bronze (.012–.054
Photo by Travys Owen
As we talk about art being a shared experience, June says she can be a bit of a hermit at times, but “when it’s time to share the art, then there you are. Even if you’re a painter and you just put your painting on a wall and walk away, that’s an interaction that brings you out of your studio or your bedroom to understand this whole act of co-creating—which to me is a spiritual act anyway. That’s why we’re here, to really understand those rules and layers to life. How do we co-create together?
“And I think it’s so fun,” she enthuses. “I enjoy learning, even when it’s hard. I’m like, ‘Okay, this chord is killing me right now, or this phrase.... but I’ma stick with it. And then that likens to something that I might face when I go out into the world. I’m like, ‘All right, I can get through this.’”
I suggest, “When you say ‘co-creating,’ it sounds like you mean something bigger.”
“Both in the creation of our art, but also in the creation of a life,” June replies. “’Cause how can a life be something this artistic? You get to the end of it and you’re like, ‘Wow, look at what I co-created! With all these other people, with animals, with nature, with sound that’s all around....‘ All of my life has been a piece of art or a collective creation. I imagine them like books: different lives on a shelf. And you go pick one—‘Whoa! I created a pretty fun one there!’ or, ‘Oh, man, I had no hand in that....’ Close the book, next one!” she concludes, laughing as she illustrates the metaphor with her hands.
“So does that make all of your inspirations your co-creators?” I ask.
Valerie June at one of her several Newport Folk Festival appearances, with her trusty Gold Tone banjo
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
“Yeah! Even if they’ve gone before,” says June. “I was listening to some beautiful classical music the other day, and I was like, ‘Man, I don’t know who any of these artists are; they’re all dead and gone, but I’m just enjoying it and it’s putting me in a zone that I need to be in right now.‘ So, we’re always leaving these little seeds for even those who are coming after us to be inspired by.”
Some of her current non-musical co-creators are poets and authors, such as the poet Hafez, the philosopher Audre Lorde, poet Mary Oliver, and Robin Wall Kimmerer, a Potawatomi botanist whose works include Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants, The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World, and Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses.
“It’s not ever complete or finished, your study of art. It’s an adventure, and it keeps getting prettier as you walk through the meadow of creating or learning new things.”
“These books are so beautiful and show the relationship of humanity with nature and the way trees speak with each other; the way moss communicates to itself,” June explains. “Those ways of being can help humans, who always think we know so much, to learn how to work together better.”
As she’s sharing, I see her glance out her window. “Right now, I just saw a muskrat go across the pond,” she continues. “It’s about this big [holds hands about three feet apart] and it digs holes in the yard. It’s having such a great time and I’m just like, ‘Okay, you are huge, and I’m walking through the yard and falling in holes because of you [laughs]. I’m just watching you live your best life!’ And then there was a blue heron that came yesterday, and I watched it eat fish.... They’re my friends!” she exclaims, with more laughter.
Valerie June believes in the power of flowers–and all living thing–as her creative collaborators.
It might seem like we’re getting a bit off subject, but it’s residents of nature like these who are important in her creative process.
I share how, in my own approach to art, I feel as though we can always access creativity and our ideals, as long as we stay receptive to experiencing and sharing in them. June agrees, but comments that sometimes her best self only wants to sit and focus: “No more information; no more downloads, please.”
An encounter with Memphis-based blues guitarist Robert Belfour, who June frequently saw perform, expanded that perspective for her. She shares about a time she went up to him after a show: “I was like, ‘Hey, I would love to work with you on some music and maybe we could co-write a song or something.’ He was like, ‘Nope! I don’t wanna do it.’ And I said, ‘Whaaat?’ And he’s like, ‘No. I do what I do, and I do not do what anybody else does; I just do what I do.’”
Sometimes, she says, “I think that’s just as much of an outlook to have with creating as anything. It’s like, ‘Okay, I’m there, I’m where I wanna be. I don’t want to be anywhere else.’”
“That’s why we’re here, to really understand those rules and layers to life. How do we co-create together?”
Part of what’s so enjoyable about speaking with June is realizing that she truly exists on her own plane. She has no pretense, and in that, doesn’t hide some of the fears that weigh on her mind at times. But she doesn’t let those define her. It’s her easy, exuberant optimism that sparks a feeling of friendship between us, without having known each other before that afternoon. What are some of her guiding principles as an artist, I wonder?
“I sit with the idea of, ‘Who am I creating this for?’” she says, “and returning to the fact that I’m doing this for me, and, as Gillian Welch said, ‘I’m gonna do it anyway even if it doesn’t pay.’ This is what I wanna do. And reflecting on that and letting that kind of be my guiding force. It’s just something that I enjoy, that I really wanna do.”
YouTube It
From there, the conversation meanders in other directions, and June even generously asks me a few questions about my own artistic beliefs. We share about trusting your gut instinct, and walking away from situations and people who don’t serve us. This reminds her of a bigger feeling.
“With everything that these times hold for us as humans,” she shares, “from the inequality that we face to the environmental change, the political climate, and all the things that could lead us to fear or negativity.... I started to think about it, and I’m like, ‘Okay, well, maybe we are fucked! Maybe the planet is going to eject us and all of the other things are gonna come true! Well, if that’s what’s gonna happen, who do I wanna be?’
“I want to go out in a way that’s sweet or kind to other people, enjoying this experience, these last moments, and building togetherness through music. I want to co-create a beautiful life even in the face of all of that. That’s what I want to do.”
6V6 and EL84 power sections deliver a one-two punch in a super-versatile, top-quality, low-wattage combo.
Extremely dynamic. Sounds fantastic in both EL84 and 6V6 settings. Excellent build quality.
Heavy for a 9-to-15-watt combo. Expensive.
$3,549
Divided by 13 CCC 9/15
The announcement in January 2024 that Two-Rock had acquired Divided by 13 Amplifiers (D13) was big news in the amp world. It was also good news for anyone who’d enjoyed rocking D13’s original, hand-made creations and hoped to see the brand live on. From the start of D13’s operations in the early ’90s, founder and main-man Fred Taccone did things a little differently. He eschewed existing designs, made his amps simple and tone-centric, and kept the company itself simple and small. And if that approach didn’t necessarily make him rich, it did earn him a stellar reputation for top-flight tube amps and boatloads of star endorsements.
D13’s history is not unlike Two-Rock’s. But the two companies are known for very different sounding amplifiers and very different designs. As it happens, the contrast makes the current Two-Rock company—itself purchased by long-time team members Eli Lester and Mac Skinner in 2016—a complementary new home for D13. The revived CCC 9/15 model, tested here, is from the smaller end of the reanimated range. Although, as we’ll discover, there’s little that’s truly “small” about any amp wearing the D13 badge—at least sound-wise.
Double Duty
Based on Taccone’s acclaimed dual-output-stage design, the CCC 9/15 delivers around 9 watts from a pair of 6V6GT tubes in class A mode, or 15 watts from a pair of EL84s in class AB1 mode (both configurations are cathode-biased). It’s all housed in a stylishly appointed cabinet covered in two-tone burgundy and ivory—together in perfect harmony—with the traditional D13 “widow’s peak” on a top-front panel framing an illuminated “÷13” logo plate. Measuring 22" x 211/4" x 10.5" and weighing 48 pounds, it’s chunky for a 1x12 combo of relatively diminutive wattage. But as Taccone would say, “There’s no big tone from small cabs,” and the bigging-up continues right through the rest of the design.
With a preamp stage that’s kin to the D13 CJ11, the front end of the CCC 9/15 is a little like a modified tweed Fender design. Driven by two 12AX7 twin triodes, it’s not a mile from the hallowed 5E3 Fender Deluxe, but with an EQ stage expanded to independent bass and treble knobs. Apart from those, there are volume and master volume controls with a push-pull gain/mid boost function on the former. In addition to the power and standby switches, there’s a third toggle to select between EL84 and 6V6 output, with high and low inputs at the other end of the panel. Along with two fuse sockets and an IEC power-cord receptacle, the panel on the underside of the chassis is home to four speaker-output jacks—one each for 4 ohms and 16 ohms and two for 8 ohms—plus a switch for the internal fan, acknowledging that all those output tubes can get a little toasty after a while.
“Set to 6V6 mode, the CCC 9/15 exudes ’50s-era tweed warmth and richness, with juicy compression that feels delightful under the fingertips.”
The combo cabinet is ruggedly built from Baltic birch ply and houses a Celestion G12H Creamback speaker. Construction inside is just as top notch, employing high-quality components hand-soldered into position and custom-made transformers designed to alternately handle the needs of two different sets of output tubes. In a conversation I had with Taccone several years ago discussing the original design, he noted that by supplying both sets of tubes with identical B+ levels of around 300 volts DC (courtesy of a 5AR4/GZ34 tube rectifier), the EL84s ran right in their wheelhouse—producing around 15 watts, and probably more, in cathode-biased class AB1. The 6V6s operate less efficiently, however, and can be biased hot to true class A levels, yielding just 9 to 11 watts.
Transatlantic Tone Service
Tested with a Gibson ES-355 and a Fender Telecaster, the CCC 9/15 delivers many surprises in spite of its simple controls and is toothsome and dynamic throughout its range. Between the four knobs, push-pull boost function, and 6V6/EL84 switch, the CCC 9/15 range of clean-to-grind settings is impressive regardless of volume, short of truly bedroom levels, perhaps. It also has impressive headroom and a big, robust voice for a combo that maxes out at 15 watts. Leaving the boost switch off affords the most undistorted range from the amp in either output-tube mode, though the front end will still start to push things into sweet edge-of-breakup with the volume up around 1 or 2 o’clock. Pull up that knob and kick in the boost, though, and things get thick and gutsy pretty quick.
While the power disparity between the 6V6 and EL84 settings is noticeable in the amp’s perceived output, which enhances its usefulness in different performance settings, you can also think of the function as an “era and origins” switch. Set to 6V6 mode, the CCC 9/15 exudes ’50s-era tweed warmth and richness, with juicy compression that feels delightful under the fingertips. The EL84 setting, on the other hand, ushers in ’60s-influenced voices with familiar British chime, sparkle, and a little more punch and cutting power, too.
The Verdict
If the CCC 9/15 were split into different 6V6 and EL84 amps, I’d hate to have to choose between them. Both of the amp’s tube modes offer expressive dynamics and tasty tones that make it adaptable to all kinds of venues and recording situations. From the pure, multi-dimensional tone to the surprisingly versatile and simple control set to the top-flight build quality, the CCC 9/15 is a pro-grade combo that touch-conscious players will love. It’s heavy for an amp in its power range, and certainly expensive, but the sounds and craft involved will make the cost worth it for a lot of players interested in consolidating amp collections.
The luthier’s stash.
There is more to a guitar than just the details.
A guitar is not simply a collection of wood, wire, and metal—it is an act of faith. Faith that a slab of lumber can be coaxed to sing, and that magnets and copper wire can capture something as expansive as human emotion. While it’s comforting to think that tone can be calculated like a tax return, the truth is far messier. A guitar is a living argument between its components—an uneasy alliance of materials and craftsmanship. When it works, it’s glorious.
The Uncooperative Nature of Wood
For me it all starts with the wood. Not just the species, but the piece. Despite what spec sheets and tonewood debates would have you believe, no two boards are the same. One piece of ash might have a bright, airy ring, while another from the same tree might sound like it spent a hard winter in a muddy ditch.
Builders know this, which is why you’ll occasionally catch one tapping on a rough blank, head cocked like a bird listening. They’re not crazy. They’re hunting for a lively, responsive quality that makes the wood feel awake in your hands. But wood is less than half the battle. So many guitarists make the mistake of buying the lumber instead of the luthier.
Pickups: Magnetic Hopes and Dreams
The engine of the guitar, pickups are the part that allegedly defines the electric guitar’s voice. Sure, swapping pickups will alter the tonality, to use a color metaphor, but they can only translate what’s already there, and there’s little percentage in trying to wake the dead. Yet, pickups do matter. A PAF-style might offer more harmonic complexity, or an overwound single-coil may bring some extra snarl, but here’s the thing: Two pickups made to the same specs can still sound different. The wire tension, the winding pattern, or even the temperature on the assembly line that day all add tiny variables that the spec sheet doesn’t mention. Don’t even get me started about the unrepeatability of “hand-scatter winding,” unless you’re a compulsive gambler.
“One piece of ash might have a bright, airy ring, while another from the same tree might sound like it spent a hard winter in a muddy ditch.”
Wires, Caps, and Wishful Thinking
Inside the control cavity, the pots and capacitors await, quietly shaping your tone whether you notice them or not. A potentiometer swap can make your volume taper feel like an on/off switch or smooth as an aged Tennessee whiskey. A capacitor change can make or break the tone control’s usefulness. It’s subtle, but noticeable. The kind of detail that sends people down the rabbit hole of swapping $3 capacitors for $50 “vintage-spec” caps, just to see if they can “feel” the mojo of the 1950s.
Hardware: The Unsung Saboteur
Bridges, nuts, tuners, and tailpieces are occasionally credited for their sonic contributions, but they’re quietly running the show. A steel block reflects and resonates differently than a die-cast zinc or aluminum bridge. Sloppy threads on bridge studs can weigh in, just as plate-style bridges can couple firmly to the body. Tuning machines can influence not just tuning stability, but their weight can alter the way the headstock itself vibrates.
It’s All Connected
Then there’s the neck joint—the place where sustain goes to die. A tight neck pocket allows the energy to transfer efficiently. A sloppy fit? Some credit it for creating the infamous cluck and twang of Fender guitars, so pick your poison. One of the most important specs is scale length. A longer scale not only creates more string tension, it also requires the frets to be further apart. This changes the feel and the sound. A shorter scale seems to diminish bright overtones, accentuating the lows and mids. Scale length has a definite effect on where the neck joins the body and the position of the bridge, where compromises must be made in a guitar’s overall design. There are so many choices, and just as many opportunities to miss the mark. It’s like driving without a map unless you’ve been there before.
Alchemy, Not Arithmetic
At the end of the day, a guitar’s greatness doesn’t come from its spec sheet. It’s not about the wood species or the coil-wire gauge. It’s about how it all conspires to either soar or sink. Two guitars, built to identical specs, can feel like long-lost soulmates or total strangers. All of these factors are why mix-and-match mods are a long game that can eventually pay off. But that’s the mystery of it. You can’t build magic from a parts list. You can’t buy mojo by the pound. A guitar is more than the sum of its parts—it’s a sometimes unpredictable collaboration of materials, choices, and human touch. And sometimes, whether in the hands of an experienced builder or a dedicated tinkerer, it just works.