Jack Higginbotham, PRS COO, trains guitar makers on fretboard approval and round at Cor-Tek’s factory in Indonesia.
Paul Reed Smith believes “that it’s not about the country that an instrument is made in. It’s always been about the skill level of the guitar makers.” Here’s why.
For us, import guitars started when Carlos Santana asked, “Paul, can we make a PRS that’s much more affordable for all the students that talk to me about owning one of my guitars?” I said, “Sure. I’ll get you a prototype for your approval.” When we brought him the prototype, he was impressed, and his comment was, “This was made in America, right?” And I said, “No. This was made overseas.” The contract for his approval was on the table, and he leaned over and signed it as fast as he could. It was a good moment for him and my company because our integrities were on the line, and we had a product we thought was a real instrument.
I’ve always believed that it’s not about the country that an instrument is made in. It’s always been about the skill level of the guitar makers. When we first started traveling to overseas guitar-manufacturing facilities, we found that almost all their training over the decades had been to go fast, while our teaching about how to make instruments was about how to go well. Once they knew how to go well, they didn’t know how to slow down. And the guitars they produce are of the same caliber as what we make here.
Years ago, I visited Fujigen Gakki, which was one of the original manufacturers for Ibanez and overseas-built Fender instruments. They also made George Benson’s archtops. I was impressed. When I was a child, Japanese manufacturing was known for making cheap transistor radios. Now, instruments made in Japan have real cache. Not because the country they were made in changed, but because the guitar-making skill level has gotten so much higher. Fujigen at the time when I visited was an extraordinary guitar-making facility. PRS models could easily have been made there, and I knew it when I visited.
What I’ve been deeply concerned about is that we teach our overseas partners how we want instruments to be, using our techniques. So, as a definitive statement, the country a guitar is made in does not matter much. The skill and care of the instrument makers does matter. Let me give you a few historical examples. Stradivari, Guadagnini, and Guarneri violins are the most-valued, and were made in Italy. Some of the early overseas-built Stratocasters were made in the mountains in Japan near the Seiko watch factory, and they are now highly desirable. A huge percentage of high-end classical and flamenco guitars were made in Spain.
“Believe me, if I got fired and moved to Mexico, within eight months, I’d be making high-end guitars there.”
Jack Higginbotham, who is one of my partners at PRS, is teaching our Indonesian guitar-making partner, Cor-Tek Musical Instrument Company, how to make guitars our way, every day. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, and I trust it. Over and over again, we’ve been told by Cor-Tek that our constant request is that we want them to do it right in terms of instrument making, while most of the other manufacturers’ requests are centered around how they can get finished instruments for less money. That just doesn’t make sense to me. These foreign instrument-makers take great pride in their work and their products, and, in my experience, want to do a great job. We were the first company to put our overseas manufacturer’s name on the back of our headstocks. We did it so the company would take pride in its work. Believe me, if I got fired and moved to Mexico, within eight months, I’d be making high-end guitars there.
So, if you’re looking for an instrument, you should evaluate it the same way, regardless of country of manufacture: How does it look, how does it feel in your hands, how does it sound acoustically, how does it sound electrically, and, most important, will it do the job you want it to do? A guitar is a tool to make music and should be evaluated as such no matter its country of origin. Very often, a country will have a reputation for being better at making some kinds of products than others, but that changes over time. As an example, the Swiss are better at making watches than the U.S. has ever been, but not grandfather clocks.
I hope this was helpful. By the way, I’ve seen some unplayable instruments made in this country. We call such products, regardless of origin, “guitar-shaped objects.” I’ve also played some real gems not made in the U.S. I guess this will start a few threads.
Luthier Ken Parker blends old world lutherie and aerospace tech materials, proving that wood and carbon fiber can dance together in a romantic tango of sonic bliss.
In the guitar market, classic models still have the biggest influence, but the future is lurking.
In the ever-evolving music industry, the electric guitar stands as an enduring stalwart, having shaped the sonic landscape for generations without much physical change. I’ve joked about the state of the guitar before, but let’s take a more serious view of what’s happening in the guitar business. It’s apparent that the classics continue to wield influence, while also undergoing a transformation reflective of the current tech era.
First, let’s consider the resonance of tradition. The vintage trade has never been more robust, and sale prices are at an all-time high. Of course, those rising price tags mean that more cost-effective, vintage-inspired designs are continuing to attract buyers. As a consequence, budget-conscious guitarists are gravitating towards instruments that pay homage to the golden era of rock ’n’ roll, which now encompasses “shredder” guitars as well. At the higher end of the price range, boutique luthiers and established brands alike continue crafting instruments that marry the timeless elegance of yesteryear with modern touches—with varying results.
The aftermarket is awash with the same strategy. Take, for instance, the drumbeat of PAF-style pickups—the holy grail of vintage tone. It’s the tone that everyone wants, but few have actually heard firsthand. Still, discerning players seek out guitars fitted with these replicas, their imaginations yearning for the warm, creamy sound that defined the bluesy (recorded) licks of legends. With the marketplace flooded with PAF imposters, it may be just a matter of time before more recent pickup designs become subject to widespread recreation. A case in point is the resurgence of the T-Top Gibson humbucker, which was the less cherished replacement to the PAF.
And it’s not only pickups. In the spirit of this quest for retro authenticity, some builders have gone a step further, meticulously recreating or improving upon other vintage components, ostensibly to capture the elusive magic of bygone eras. The difficulty for consumers to compare these products to the “real” thing is a conundrum that works in the maker’s favor. In the end, if you like what you hear, that’s what matters.
“As vintage-aesthetic fatigue sets in among some players, carbon fiber, aerospace alloys, and 3D-printed components are pushing the boundaries of what was once deemed sacred.”
Despite the constant dialogue about the golden age of guitars, the electric market is no stranger to innovation. Effect and amp builders offer both digital and analog impressions of vintage products, and there is a faction also pressing ahead into options never imagined in the past. In a world fueled by technological leaps, guitar amplification has embraced a metamorphosis in the realm of digital signal processing, where guitars are not mere instruments but also game controllers for a myriad of sonic possibilities. More and more, modeling technology is becoming the alchemist’s potion, allowing players to summon the tones of iconic amps and effects with a simple twist of a knob. Or at least, as the saying goes, close enough for rock ’n’ roll. It’s tempting to write off these devices based on early attempts, but as processing power gets more powerful and costs come down, we may see the final triumph of solid-state.
The tech touch is also evident in the rise of avant-garde designs and materials. As vintage-aesthetic fatigue sets in among some players, carbon fiber, aerospace alloys, and 3D-printed components are pushing the boundaries of what was once deemed sacred. Whereas previous attempts to integrate aerospace materials were laughable, modern-day artisans are crafting guitars that twist convention, challenging players to rethink their perceptions of what a cool electric guitar can be. The juxtaposition of tradition and innovation is not always a clash but a quest, where the echoes of the past might resonate in harmony with the cutting-edge present.
The democratization of luthiery has also given rise to a thriving custom and boutique market. When I started building instruments, there was no StewMac, and information was a guarded secret. Now, with social media as their stage, thousands of small-scale builders showcase their take on the past or their stab at the future. Like the craft-beer movement, small-shop guitar-making has turned into a significant hobby. These creations stand as testament to the artisanal spirit now driving the guitar market forward.
Yet, as we traverse the landscape of the electric-guitar market, it’s crucial to acknowledge the challenges. The digital age has ushered in a paradox—while virtual instruments and home-studio setups offer unprecedented accessibility, they also pose a threat to the tactile experience of playing a physical instrument. The allure of instant gratification in the form of digital plugins challenges the traditional methods that have defined the soul of the electric guitar for decades.
In my view, the electric-guitar market is a tapestry woven with threads of tradition and innovation. It’s a place where vintage sensibilities mix with cutting-edge technology, and the esoteric meets the mainstream. As players and builders continue to search for new ways to differentiate themselves, the electric guitar remains an ever-evolving muse, resonating with the echoes of the past while charting a course towards an exciting future. In other words, just as it has always been.Just some of the bits and pieces that make up a guitar.
Every detail that makes up a guitar contributes to its unique personality. Just like your friends.
One of the best things about being a guitarist is the people you meet and the friends you make along the way. Whether you’re a pro or a weekender, making music attracts a wide variety of people who share your passion for guitar and aren’t afraid to tell you about it. I’ve always been a fan of the swath of characters that wash up on the shores of guitardom, and to say that they can be interesting and entertaining is putting it mildly. It’s pretty certain that when you stop to think of the people you call friends, you’ll find that many are in your orbit because of the guitar. Maybe it’s because the guitar has so many facets and can slot into so many genres of music. It’s a bond that can last a lifetime.
Oddly enough, the instrument itself is a lot like your friends—they all have a personality, and probably no two are exactly the same. Some are old friends that are always there for you. They’re comfortable to be around, and the conversation can make any number of turns without judgment. Those are the ones who will catch you when you fall, as well as bring out the best in you. Other guitars piss you off, but you love them just the same. Sometimes, I wonder why I hold on to certain guitars that I’ve had for a long, long time. Maybe it’s a weird kind of loyalty, or hanging on to memories of good times gone by—like your high-school-locker neighbor.
We all know that a guitar is a pretty simple piece of kit made of wood with steel strings on it. So, what makes them all so different? You can point to the pickups on an electric, but in the scheme of things I contend that’s way down the list. I’d compare pickup choice to choosing the right microphone for a vocalist. In that case, you’d go for the one that brings out the personality of the singer. It’s that very personality that I bond with in any guitar. But where does that personality, or character, come from?
Oddly enough, the instrument itself is a lot like your friends—they all have a personality, and probably no two are exactly the same.
When you break down the guitar form, it actually becomes more complex than you might imagine. Builders juggle a huge number of elements that go beyond the shape of the body or the feel of the neck, although those are important. In some ways, it’s like being a chef with a long list of ingredients and 10 thousand ways to combine and cook them. How thick is the body? What is it made of? Is it hollow or solid? Even how the mass of the instrument is distributed can make a difference—especially when the volume goes up. The surface area of the neck joint and if it is glued, screwed, sloppy, or tight all make a small difference. The truss rod can be a factor by weight and placement. Is it pre-loaded, and by how much? Believe it or not, the volume of space around and under the pickups can affect the sound.
Hardware choice is also a major ingredient, but not in a vacuum, which is how these things are often discussed. The weight of a particular bridge, for instance, might be an improvement on one instrument, but a tone-suck on another. I’ve found that there is a difference between tuning machines that utilize a push-in bushing and an identical tuner that has a screw-down bushing. Headstock angle and size is an influence on resonance, especially when loaded up with weighty tuners. Fret material and dimension can change not only the feel, but the sound of an instrument. Different bridge and tailpiece combinations may require changes in neck-pitch angles, which in turn affects the physics of the string-pull direction and forces on the neck joint and bridge. The list goes on and on.
As much as I’d like to think I understand a lot of what goes on in the construction of my guitars, I also realize that I’m creating an instrument that will be born with an intrinsic amount of variation in character. When viewed as a mechanical ecosystem, it becomes clear that there are an almost endless number of facets that make up the personality of a guitar. Each change may be almost imperceptible on its own, but small changes have a way of adding up to big results. No wonder the aftermarket is thriving, as DIY guitar owners mix and match ingredients to fine-tune their guitar gumbo. It’s gratifying when a brand-new guitar leaves the nest and the new owner doesn’t want to change a thing, but I also understand that sometimes people try to change their friends. My advice is to bring out their best, try not to piss them off, and they’ll be your friends for life.