
The Firstman Liverpool Deluxe looks extreme, but would you believe it once appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show?
I've had this month's story on my shelf for quite some time, because I could really weave so many interesting threads and connections to this guitar. How does one honor a tremendous man with huge contributions to music when limited to a single page? But I'm feeling like it's time to tell at least part of the story behind one of the most interesting people I've ever met through my love of guitars.
Back around 2010, I began researching Japanese guitars in earnest, simply because I was discovering that there was too much speculation, misinformation, and plain-old ignorance floating around, and I found the fire to uncover the truth burning inside me. I started by reaching out to some Japanese internet connections via email, with the hope that we could communicate and that I'd make more contacts.
This Firstman Liverpool Deluxe may look like a battle axe, but it's chock full of warm, surfy clean tones.
Eventually, I found my way to a blog that was operated by a fellow named Kazy. He wrote in Japanese and English, and much of the content related to Mosrite guitars and his connections to Semie Mosely and Nokie Edwards. It turned out that Kazy was the nickname of Kazuo Morioka, and he became one of the most amazing sources I've ever encountered.
The guy was an excellent pianist, and was an early player of electrified pianos and organs. He shunned a cushy job with his family-owned pharmaceutical business to work for Kawai as a demo player, and went on to own a chain of music stores across Japan. He worked with all the early Japanese guitar companies and seemed to know all their employees and histories. After talking with Kazy, I developed a notebook full of numbers, emails, and connections all over Japan.
Mihara preferred a clean but strong sound, so that's what you'll find with one of these old Liverpool guitars.
Kazy spoke perfect English and had even lived in the U.S., near Seattle, for many years. He was friends with Semie Mosely, and together they produced a line of guitars in Japan that were called Mosrite Avengers. Kazy was also great friends with Nokie Edwards, who I missed meeting in person by one day while we were both visiting Kazy in Japan.
This month, I'll highlight one of Kazy's most extreme guitar designs. Kazy started electric guitar production in the late '60s using the brand name Firstman. He had the stellar idea to connect with popular Japanese bands and make custom guitars that would give them a signature look onstage. I suppose it was similar to groups wearing matching outfits in that era.
This Firstman Liverpool was the first, made in collaboration with Tsunaki Mihara of the Blue Comets. In the late '60s, the band had a huge hit called "Blue Chateau." They even played on The Ed Sullivan Show! Kazy and Mihara collaborated over every detail and put all kinds of considerations into the pickup frequency, attack and decay, coil winds, etc. Even the violin body shape was chosen because of its inherent resonance and projection, but, of course, with a more extreme Japanese design aesthetic. The deep, lightweight hollowbody is a rather large 15" across the lower bout, and came with some resplendent details, such as full-body binding and chrome accents. Plus, there was a totally posh scroll headstock.
Columnist Frank Meyers interviews Firstman founder and guitar designer Kazuo Morioka.
Mihara preferred a clean but strong sound, so that's what you'll find with one of these old Liverpool guitars. This guitar projects like a vintage Gibson hollowbody and has simple tone/volume knobs and a 3-way switch. I suppose these shapely black beauties present a menacing first impression, but they have a sweet sound that matches well with surf music and instrumentals.
Two Liverpool guitars were produced as prototypes, and a lot of handiwork went into them. According to Kazy, everything was carved and shaped by hand, from the arched tops and backs to the necks to the scroll headstocks. Kazy and Mihara received these guitars, and then, after the Blue Comets would play shows, there would be orders placed to make regular factory production runs.
A few variations on this guitar were produced, including a Liverpool Junior and a Liverpool Special, and they all came in black. Alas, Firstman guitar production didn't last long, ceasing in 1970. Once again, we're left with these interesting examples of ingenuity and effort, like time capsules waiting to be discovered again by future generations.
Blue Comets "Blue Chateau" (Ed Sullivan Show in 1968)
Tsunaki Mihara plays his Liverpool Deluxe with the Blue Comets as they perform "Blue Chateau" on The Ed Sullivan Show.
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“Sometimes, I’d like very much for my guitar to sound exactly like a supa cobra.”
Luthier Creston Lea tells us about his favorite dirt pedal—an Athens, Georgia-made stomp that lets his guitar be a hero.
Let’s face it: Nobody can tell what overdrive pedal you’re using. Whether you’re in a carpeted suburban basement accompanying the hired clown at your nephew’s fifth birthday party or standing on the spot-lit monitor at Wembley, not one person knows whether the pedal at your feet cost $17 or $700, has true bypass, or has an internal DIP switch. Nobody leaning against the barn-dance corncrib or staunching a nosebleed up in the stadium’s cheap seats is thinking, “Heavens yes!! THAT is the sound of a silicone diode!”
So, why buy another overdrive pedal? Or six more? Are they different? (I’m asking myself.) Of course they’re different. (I’m telling myself.) A Turbo Rat is not aKlon. ATube Screamer is not a DS-1. Or is it? I can’t keep track. Why? Because it’s fun to see what the talented manufacturers of the world have to offer. And because any reader who picks up a guitar magazine for any reason other than to swat a fly is curious about what’s new and what other players are using to good effect. You can blow your savings on a guitar—I’d be happy to build you one—or an amp (or vacation or college or discount merlot or a regrettable whole-back tattoo), or you can spend $100 to $300 to satisfy your curiosity. Will anybody in the audience notice? Unlikely. Will you feel better for five minutes or the rest of your life? Maybe. Seems worth rolling the dice from time to time. Nobody gets hurt. And sometimes you’ll find a pedal that pulls something good out of your playing simply by responding to the way you play … which makes you play in new ways, etc., etc., in an infinite loop of delight. Or at least infinite till the next pedal comes along. It feels good. In a troubled and imperfect world, is it so wrong to feel good?
I bought my first overdrive pedal, a well-usedMXR Distortion+, for $25 in 1991. Surely, I could have stopped there. But many others have come and gone in the years since. Have I bought a pedal, sold it, bought it again, sold it again? More than once.
I’ve mostly, finally outgrown the desire for new pedals, but I’m not immune to the occasional itch. Sometimes a trusted brand introduces something I just haveto hear for myself. That’s particularly true in the case of smaller-scale builders whose ears I’ve learned to trust. I’m going to like everythingChris Benson of Benson Amps or Brian Mena of Menatone ever makes, for example, so why not hear it all? Sometimes it’s alluring copywriting that makes me reach for my wallet. Sometimes they just look cool.
Maybe in my case, I just can’t resist a name like Supa Cobra. Sometimes, I’d like very much for my guitar to sound exactly like a supa cobra. When Greer Amps first introduced their Supa Cobra six years ago—described as delivering “chewy medium gain overdrive to awesome crunchy grind!”—I was immediately intrigued.
Oh, how I love the Supa Cobra—a woefully underappreciated pedal now only available from Greer by special request. I’m sure there are smart players who have discovered the joys of its lower-gain settings, but for me it’s perfect for punching through sonic mud and letting my guitar be heard. It lets my guitar be a hero.
I like it best with its 3-way clipping switch set to the middle position, which, according to Greer, bypasses the other modes’ clipping diodes and lets the op amp’s natural drive come through. I can’t say I know exactly what that means, but I know it’s loud and clear and compressed in just the right way to let sustained notes really sing out in a natural, power amp-y manner.
The Supa Cobra’s greatest feature may be the body control that dials in low-end presence without adding any murk. At higher body settings, the notes push on my chest in a way that I find thrilling. I like it around 60 percent with the gain knob turned nearly full up. Perhaps excessive, but life is short. When it’s time to sound big, it’s the biggest-sounding pedal I’ve found. Lots of overtones, but not at the expense of clarity. It’s quick to jump into harmonic feedback at the gain-y settings I like best, but in a beautifully controlled way.
As a matter of fact, I think people do notice what overdrive pedal I’m using. Not that they know it’s a Supa Cobra, but it makes my guitar leap out in a way that so many other pedals have not. To borrow a word from Greer’s Lightspeed Organic Overdrive (also fantastic), it sounds organic. Or, very much unlike a wasp in a tuna can. I think it sounds like music. Loud music.A dual-channel tube preamp and overdrive pedal inspired by the Top Boost channel of vintage VOX amps.
ROY is designed to deliver sweet, ringing cleans and the "shattered" upper-mid breakup tones without sounding harsh or brittle. It is built around a 12AX7 tube that operates internally at 260VDC, providing natural tube compression and a slightly "spongy" amp-like response.
ROY features two identical channels, each with separate gain and volume controls. This design allows you to switch from clean to overdrive with the press of a footswitch while maintaining control over the volume level. It's like having two separate preamps dialed in for clean and overdrive tones.
Much like the old amplifier, ROY includes a classic dual-band tone stack. This unique EQ features interactive Treble and Bass controls that inversely affect the Mids. Both channels share the EQ section.
Another notable feature of this circuit is the Tone Cut control: a master treble roll-off after the EQ. You can shape your tone using the EQ and then adjust the Tone Cut to reduce harshness in the top end while keeping your core sound.
ROY works well with other pedals and can serve as a clean tube platform at the end of your signal chain. It’s a simple and effective way to add a vintage British voice to any amp or direct rig setup.
ROY offers external channel switching and the option to turn the pedal on/off via a 3.5mm jack. The preamp comes with a wall-mount power supply and a country-specific plug.
Street price is 299 USD. It is available at select retailers and can also be purchased directly from the Tubesteader online store at www.tubesteader.com.
This hollowbody has been with Jack since the '90s purring and howling onstage for hundreds of shows.
Our columnist’s Greco 912, now out of his hands, but fondly remembered.
A flea-market find gave our Wizard of Odd years of squealing, garage-rock bliss in his university days.
Recently, I was touring college campuses with my daughter because she’s about to take the next step in her journey. Looking back, I’ve been writing this column for close to 10 years! When I started, my kids were both small, and now they’re all in high school, with my oldest about to move out. I’m pretty sure she’s going to choose the same university that I attended, which is really funny because she’s so much like me that the decision would be totally on point.
The campus looks way nicer than it did back in the ’90s, but there are similarities, like bars, shops, and record stores. Man, our visit took me back to when I was there, which was the last time I was active in bands. Many crash-and-burn groups came and went, and it was then that I started to collect cheap guitars, mainly because it was all I could afford at the time, and there were a lot of guitars to find.
In that era, I was using an old Harmony H420 amp (made by Valco), a Univox Super Fuzz, and whatever guitar I was digging at the time. I was so proud to pull out oddball guitars during shows and just have this totally trashy sound. Squealing and squeaking and noisy as heck, my style was reminiscent of Davie Allan, Ron Asheton, and Chuck Berry. Of course, I was way worse than all of them, but I did have a frenetic energy and I covered up my lack of skill with feedback. During the ’90s, there was a great punk revival, and I loved bands like the Mummies, Teengenerate, the Makers, the New Bomb Turks, and a bunch of others. Bands were embracing lo-fi, and I was planted firmly in that vein. Plus, the guitars I liked to use already sounded lo-fi.
“This was about the trashiest-sounding guitar, but in a good way!”
For a short spell I was using this Greco guitar and, man, this was about the trashiest-sounding guitar, but in a good way! See, Fujigen pickups (like the ones here) have this echoey voice that I describe as an “empty beer can” sound. My Super Fuzz would just destroy these pickups, and I wish I had some recordings from that era, because it was a real scene! I believe this Greco was a flea-market find but it was much later that I found out it was called a Greco Model 912. This was actually a copy of a German-made Framus guitar, but with a lot more glitz and a crazier headstock. Four pickup selector switches, volume/tone knobs, and a rhythm/lead switch rounded out the electronics. Again, these pickups are instant spaghetti-Western movie tone. Airy and bright, the bridge area is like instant, gnarly surf music. Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine has a similar guitar and John Barrett of Bass Drum of Death was also fond of these pickups. Interestingly enough, these particular Grecos were made in small numbers, ranging between 500 to 600 in total (including all pickup combinations).
The Greco brand was initially owned by the U.S.-based Goya Corporation, but in the late 1960s, Fujigen bought the brand name (for $1,000) and produced a few truly gonzo guitars, including this Model 912. Originally called the GE-4, the four-pickup version sold for $99.50 in 1967. My particular 912 was sold at Sid Kleiner Guitar Studios in Califon, New Jersey (which I learned thanks to the attached store sticker on the headstock).
Aside from the chrome coolness and the four pickups, this model featured a cute little flip-up bridge mute that was all the rage at the time. The body also had some tasteful German carvings around the edges, and as I write this, I am missing this guitar tremendously! But not even close to the way I’m going to miss my girl in a few months. At least I know that she can shop at the same record stores!