These four Mesa/Boogie combos were made around 1978. The pair on the left are Mark I models,
while those on the right are early Mark IIs.
Randall Smith became fascinated with electronics at an early age. Then as a teenager, he was captivated by cars and would repair them for his friends. By 1966 he was playing drums in a rock 'n' roll band, putting his technical skills to use by repairing band members' amps. This led to his opening Prune Music in Berkeley, California, with his bandmate David Kessner.
While Smith did repairs in the back, Kessner manned the counter. Eventually many popular West Coast bands, including the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane, had their amps serviced at Prune Music.
While most companies gave the Stones amps for free, Smith charged the band for his handmade Boogies.
Around 1969 the roadies for Country Joe & The Fish decided to play a prank on lead guitarist Barry "The Fish" Melton. They had Smith modify Melton's 12-watt Fender Princeton to "do something really wild." Smith installed the classic Fender Bassman circuit and squeezed in a 12" JBL speaker, and the result was a 60-watt amp shoehorned into the small Princeton box. After trying Smith's creation, Carlos Santana declared, "This little amp really boogies." Thus the amp's name became "Boogie."
By the early '70s, Smith had started his own company, Mesa Engineering. Using more gain stages and a master volume control, he came up with a "cascading preamp" concept that could generate sustaining overdrive at any volume level. Santana received one of these amps (eventually known as a Mark I) and used it both onstage and on the epic Abraxas album.
Right at home: A 1995 PRS Santana Prototype rests against the vintage Boogies.
Hearing Santana's sound, other top guitarists wanted Boogies too. Because Smith personally assembled and inspected every amp, the wait time in the late '70s could be up to seven months. Keith Richards contacted Smith in 1977 and eventually purchased several Boogies over the years. (While most companies gave the Stones amps for free, Smith charged the band for his handmade Boogies due to the small size of his company at the time.) Boogies can be first heard with the Stones on side three of Love You Live taped at Toronto's storied El Mocambo Tavern. Boogies remained the Stones' go-to amps through 1993.
The four Mesa/Boogie amps pictured this month date to about 1978. The two on the left are Mark I models, while the two on the right are early Mark IIs. Featuring a hardwood cabinet and wicker grille, each amp has Mesa's classic '70s look. The price for each of these amps was about $1,200. Their current value is $1,500.
Early Boogies sported funky-cool Dymo labels. Now that's boutique!
Because Santana played such a pivotal role in early Mesa/Boogie history, we posed a 1995 PRS Santana Prototype (from the first Limited Run) next to the amps. The current value for this guitar is $7,500.
Sources for this article include Amps! The Other Half of Rock 'n' Roll by Ritchie Fliegler, Rolling Stones Gear: All the Stones' Instruments from Stage to Studio by Andy Babiuk and Greg Prevost, and an interview with Randall Smith by Trent Salter archived on Mesa/Boogie's website.
[Updated 10/12/21]
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Reverend Billy Corgan Drop Z Signature Electric Guitar - Pearl White
The Reverend Billy Corgan Drop Z combines the aesthetic features of his Z-One signature model and a longer 24-fret, 26.25″ scale neck designed for drop tunings. The long scale neck provides appropriate string tension for down-tuning, so the tone is deep and full, yet still stays punchy and clear. The Alder solid body paired with Railhammer Billy Corgan Z-One Pickups delivers a heightened output and a velvety treble for a rich, weighty rock tone. The roasted Maple neck, fingerboard, and medium oval profile are comfortable to play, even with the slightly longer scale length.
Neil’s brother-in-law Billy’s Ovation, before Neil’s repairs.
Reader: Neil Crump
Hometown: Austin, Texas
Guitar: King of the Road
My brother-in-law passed away in March. He was a talented keyboardist and, in his heyday, played in bands that toured internationally. As a musician, he naturally had a guitar—a 1974 Ovation—and a “friend” put an unauthorized abstract paint job on it. That guitar had an extremely hard life: Its top was broken and the frets were completely worn out. As an aspiring luthier, I took the guitar to repair it then pass it on to his daughter. This proved to be a challenging task as I had never done anything more complicated than a basic setup before and I had few luthier tools.
A heat gun and thin spatula knife worked fine to remove the top and the bridge. I did my best to glue the new top halves together—but that left a visible seam, so I put a herringbone center strip over it (to match the purfling I would install later). I had no radius board, so I just clamped the pre-radiused braces I bought and was quite pleased that the new top did have a radius! Once I felt the bridge was sanded perfectly, I glued it down. I then replaced the plastic nut and saddle with bone. A hot soldering iron got the old frets out without damaging the fingerboard. (That said, next time I will clean those slots out better before installing new frets!)
“This proved to be a challenging task as I had never done anything more complicated than a basic setup before and I had few luthier tools.”
I was happy with my progress until I started routing the purfling channel. I had no workbench, and the concave Ovation body made things a bit awkward. While basically “bear hugging” the body with one arm and holding the router with the other, I heard a faint “pop.” The edge of an X-brace had come loose. I was able to squirt glue into the void with a syringe, but the concave guitar body made a brace jack useless (without fabricating a complicated caul). I removed the phono jack and jammed a pencil into the brace, keeping pressure on it with a rubber band. It worked!
Neil gave the Ovation a new lease on life with his extensive repairs, the end result of which can be seen here.
I also learned the importance of channel depth with purfling—I did lots of scraping to get everything flush. I am pleased with the finished product and my niece is so happy! I also put a new label inside the guitar body, with a dedication to her father on it.
Overall, there are multiple wins on this project. I gave tribute to my brother-in-law, made his daughter happy, and learned enough to build a guitar from scratch.
Two horns? It must be a Bison!
It makes me think about an old childhood friend who lived up the street from me. Jerry and his parents lived in an old house on their grandparents’ large plot of land. On one part of the land there was an old orchard filled with all types of fruit trees and pines, and I remember how we would climb to the top of the pines and just roll ourselves down the side, Revenant style! If you fell the right way, the branches would kind of gently let you down to the next, but if you hit it wrong and got in between the branches, you’d be wrecked. It’s like we enjoyed getting hurt, and, of course, when you’re young, you can snap right back. Ah, the days when pain really didn’t hurt. Now I wake up with injuries, for real.
“The action was way high and the fret ends were sharp. It was basically a painful affair.”
So why am I talking about my click-and-stick movie and stupid childhood escapades? Well, let’s get back to memories of my old friend Jerry. First, the house he lived in was so old that it had real wooden siding, but it hadn’t been painted in forever so the exterior took on a worn, faded, haunted house vibe. Second, his carpet was so tattered that it was being held together with duct tape. Lastly, I remember his dad had a cool, old electric guitar in the living room. His dad would let me play it sometimes, and I remember that it actually hurt to play! The action was way high and the fret ends were sharp. It was basically a painful affair. Not falling-out-of-a-tree painful, but as bad as it comes with guitars. It had the label “Conrad,” and young Frank didn’t realize that he’d be looking for that guitar again one day. I mean, it did have four pickups and lots of knobs and switches!
Made at the old Japanese Matsumoko factory in the ’60s, this Conrad Bison 1233 has four pickups and a 27" scale.
Years later, I would discover that his was a Conrad Bison guitar. The model came in a few different configurations, but the four-pickup design was designated as the 1233. Primarily featuring a lovely sunburst, these Bisons were made at the amazing old Matsumoku factory in Japan and were imported by the David Wexler Company that was based in Chicago. Matsumoku always had a good supply of aged wood, and many of the guitars made there are resonant and built well. The Bisons first appeared around 1966 and had a rather good run into the early ’70s.
Simple volume/tone knobs are paired with preset solo/rhythm switches that power alnico magnets. There’s an on/off switch for each pickup, and the sound really covers all the bases. Thumpy lows and crisp highs are all there. And, the pickups handle fuzz and distortion with ease. The Bisons also came in one- and two-pickup configurations with a normal scale, but the four-pickup ones have a longer, 27" scale, which is common for Matsumoku-made electrics.
So there it is: pain, survival, American frontier, Bison, haunted houses. It all sticks together like a duct-taped carpet. Click and stick, baby!