Big guitar-building workshops keep it clean, and so can you!
Developing good, clean workshop practices will help you save time and money.
Who doesn’t like a sweet, sustaining, saturated guitar sound? I know I do, but I also love a clear and full clean tone maybe even more. Dirty or clean, to me a guitar sounds like a million bucks when the tubes are glowing and the playing flows. But most of the time I’m in the workshop making lots of dirt, and I don’t mean the overdriven amplifier kind. Making guitars can be a dirty business. Carving wood, plastic, and steel into a majestic instrument creates a lot of mess, and eventually you have to sweep your way clear.
Half a century ago, a mentor passed on this advice: The best way to clean up a mess is to not make one in the first place. Maybe this sounds quaint, but I assure you that it is good for business—any business. It doesn’t matter if you make pedals, guitars, amps, or even music, mess is money down the drain. Not only that, it’s a psychological strain on you that saps your energy and makes you careless.
When I worked at Fender, I was part of a team that was charged with revamping departments for efficiency, safety, and worker well-being. I can’t say that we made a huge difference, but I learned a lot that I could apply to my own shop and a host of other businesses. One thing there we didn’t have to fix was cleanliness. Despite the gargantuan scale of the enterprise, all of the factories are incredibly clean, especially considering the amount of materials that get processed. It reminded me of the race cars and shops of Roger Penske, who understood that a clean, organized workplace sets the tone for excellence. It’s also difficult to pinpoint problems when areas are cluttered, and you can’t see what’s going on clearly.
Beyond the obvious advantages of keeping things organized, there is another benefit created by keeping things clean, one that I’m surprised that more shops I visit (and see in videos) don’t understand. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to stop making your product and clean up. When you’re buried in debris, straightening up is time-consuming, and time is money. When you determine your cost per unit, whether it’s guitars, amps, or even rehearsal time, do you factor in the hours you spend cleaning up? It may not seem like much, but it can really add up. Regardless of if you own a shop or are in a band, if you create a tangle every time you work, the time you spend undoing it is time you could have been with your friends, family, or doing anything else.
A well-designed work area that reduces clutter will save your health and save you money. You don’t have to be a big organization to justify some basic cleanliness improvements like a good dust-collection system, either. It doesn’t have to be a huge investment. There are a slew of affordable mobile dust-collectors/vacuums with adjustable arms that can be rolled from task to task.
"When you determine your cost per unit, whether it’s guitars, amps, or even rehearsal time, do you factor in the hours you spend cleaning up?"
Stop blowing dust off your workbench or machinery onto the floor—picking it up later is like throwing profit away. Everybody benefits because cleanliness improves efficiency that reduces passing unneeded costs on to your customers. Over the course of a year, cleaning up 60 minutes a week adds up to almost seven days’ worth of time you could be using for something better, and who doesn’t want an extra week?
I’ve found that if you build cleanup time into your daily routine, it reduces stress as well. It’s important to create procedures that promote a constant state of improvement and order. After a gig, pro techs have a mandated way of breaking down and stowing gear that avoids confusion when the next setup happens. Daily routines of maintenance and cleanup catch problems before they stop the show or cripple production. If you habitually clean the spilled beer off your cables and amplifier, you’re making it easier for yourself in the long run. I know this all seems pretty obvious to some of you, but I’ve learned from master Kaizen practitioners that there’s always a higher level to reach for. If you are a one-person shop or a weekend warrior musician, those steps can really make a difference.
I suppose the reverse is true for me. If I apply this multi-tiered improvement regime to my guitar playing, I’d probably be a lot happier with my proficiency. An old dog can learn new tricks, and that’s exactly what I mean to do. So when I step on that distortion pedal, it will be the only dirt I deal with.Our columnist is back to balance the force with a look at the top qualities of old-school Fullerton noise-makers.
Last year, I wrote a column listing the top 10 annoying things about vintage Fender amps. Now, I seek to rebalance the equation, and will share my list of reasons to love them.
There are countless reasons why simple, vintage Fender amps are still the tool of choice for many working musicians, both onstage and in the studio. I suppose my list is also colored by the fact that I am an electrical engineer, just as Leo Fender was. I have traded and serviced them for almost three decades. As usual, I will mostly refer to the black-panel and silver-panel era of amps from the 1960s and ’70s.
1. Circuit standardization
The amp techs among us may have noticed how similar the electrical circuits are in the various Fender models, especially the popular black-panel Deluxe, Vibrolux, Pro, Vibroverb, Super, Twin, and Showman. Many of us use the nickname “AB763” amps because they are based on the same electrical circuit design, and some are almost identical on the inside. Yes, there are some differences, but apart from the power levels and size, they follow the exact same recipe with the tube layout, preamp section with tone stack, the long-tail phase inverter, the class-AB push-pull power tube design, fixed bias, negative feedback loop, and so on.
So, the tonal differences between the black- and silver-panel-era amps are explained by cabinet size, speaker configurations, speaker type, and power levels. Once you learn how to work on one model, you can work on them all.
2. Circuit simplicity
The first time I opened a Fender amp and inspected its innards was in 1998 when I got my first vintage one, a 1965 pre-CBS Super Reverb. I was surprised by how simple and organized the circuit was. The few components were laid out in patterns and functional sections, and the wires were cut in perfect lengths and bent nicely, tying everything together in a way that was easy to understand when I followed the circuit layout diagram. Simplicity means fewer things that can go wrong. These qualities also make maintenance easier for amateurs and enthusiasts.
3. Low-cost physical construction
Back in the day, Fender was concerned about cost and weight, and as a result, there was no high-end selection of materials or advanced mechanical features. If you need to repair or rebuild something, you don’t have to rebuild with absolute vintage correctness to obtain the original Fender tone. If, for example, an MDF baffle board is damaged, which tends to happen to amps with multiple heavy speakers, I always use thicker pine plywood when cutting out a new board. The tone remains pretty much the same, while robustness is drastically improved. This also goes for cabinet pieces, back plates, screws, and nuts. Do what Fender did, and use what you have available.
4. Tube mods
As a player, I like simple tube-swap mods, and as an engineer, I am impressed at how vintage Fender amps handle different tubes, or even allow you to pull some tubes out. Did you know that you can remove V2, V3, V4, and V5 in an AB763 amp, and the normal channel will still work?
My favorite tube swaps are a 12AX7 in the phase-inverter position for less headroom; a 12AU7 as a reverb driver for better reverb control; 6L6s in place of 6V6s in the Deluxe Reverb for cleaner headroom; and a single 6L6 in the Princeton Reverb for less headroom. There are plenty other tube swaps that you can learn about on my website, fenderguru.com, or in previous articles here at Premier Guitar. You risk malfunction and burned tubes and components if you insert the wrong tubes, so be careful and trust only valid sources.
5. The big lineup
In my list of problems with Fender amps, I pointed out a few amps that I would have recommended that Leo Fender cut out to reduce production complexity and cut costs. However, I do dig the big lineup of different amp models, from small practice amps to huge stage amps. You can pick the exact tool according to your taste and needs, and as mentioned earlier, all of them share the characteristic Fender clean tone—it’s just that some are much louder than others.
6. The clean tone
For me, the clean tone of an amp is everything. This is my number-one reason why I love the old-school Fender amps. They were designed as clean, natural tone platforms, for the simple purpose of amplifying the sound of your guitar, bass, or keyboard.
But a proper analysis of Fender’s clean tone requires a column of its own, so stay tuned for the next Silver and Black!
Gain is fun in all its forms, from overdrive to fuzz, but let’s talk about a great clean tone.
We’re all here for one thing. It’s the singular sound and magic of the stringed instrument called the guitar—and its various offshoots, including the bass. Okay, so maybe it’s more than one thing, but the sentiment remains. Even as I write this, my thoughts fan out and recognize how many incarnations of “guitar” there must be. It’s almost incomprehensible. Gut-string, nylon-string, steel-string, 12-string, 8-string, 10-string, flatwound, brown sound, fuzztone…. It’s almost impossible to catalog completely, so I’ll stop here and let you add your favorites. Still, there’s one thing that I keep coming back to: clean tone.
I’ve had the luck and good fortune to work in the studio with Robert Cray, and it was the first time I watched how a human being could split the atom with tone so pure that you could feel it in your blood, not just your gut. It’s a piercing voice like heaven’s glass harmonica. Now, I’ve had fellow musicians turn up their noses when Cray is mentioned, but that’s their problem. I love a saturated guitar—my Analog Man King of Tone cranked way up high in the clouds—but it’s a power trip. I know it’s scarier to get it right when down low and tight. Fearless Flyers tight.
It’s not that I don’t like distortion. I’ve chased saturated and singing sustain all my guitar life. I’ve experienced it all, from big amps with quads of Mullard bottles glowing brightly as they approached meltdown, to tweed combos turned up to a sagging and farting 12. There have been racks full of effects piled upon effects—hushing, squashing, squeezing, chorusing, echoing, and expanding my guitar’s output like some Lego sound transformer. The good, the bad, and the relatively unknown. I even tried building my own amp line with a friend when I was 17 years old just to get what I heard in my head. But when I’m honest with myself, the stinging clean sounds of guitar strings are what move me the most.
When I started playing guitar, clean was about all you could get. If an amp started to distort or feed back, we worried that the amp might burst into flames.
When I started playing guitar, clean was about all you could get. If an amp started to distort or feed back, we worried that the amp might burst into flames. I didn’t understand how it worked, but I learned fast. The instruments didn’t ignite, but the sound did. That buzzing, clipping tone hid all my bad finger technique, and I was on my way, squealing and spitting fire from the speakers. The neighbor lady complained to my parents, so, clearly, I was doing something right. It was the power I was looking for in my young life. Clean tone was a thing of the past; long live the square wave on the throne of 16 speakers piled high above the stage.
Many of us have clamored for that thick distorted sound we’ve heard on records and in concerts. Guitarists still curate their collections based upon the building blocks we all discovered during our formative years. It started on the early rock ’n’ roll recordings, when small combo amps got turned up loud to compete with the horns. Bluesmen dimed their amps on Chicago’s Maxwell Street to be heard down the block—good for business. The Brits cranked it up a notch and we players took notice. To some degree, clean was being pushed out. Then, in 1978, “Sultans of Swing” and “Roxanne” came clean. Alongside the slow burning rise of metal, the chiming clarity of the guitar returned to the fray. I’m not trying to build a definitive timeline history of popular guitar sounds here. I’m just merely acknowledging that they ebb and flow. But I always come back to clean.
Even the apex of thick, fat, beefy tone—the PAF humbucker—was and is built for bold hi-fi tone. Its shimmering, articulate clean highs are often lost on period recordings or lousy playback systems. If you doubt it, listen to Michael Bloomfield’s piercing tone on “Albert’s Shuffle” found on the Super Session album. His contemporary, Peter Green, also made extensive use of the clean tones available from his PAF-loaded axe on seminal Fleetwood Mac recordings. Humbuckers can play sweet and clear. It’s worth contemplating that some of the most revered guitar sounds ever committed to record were, in fact, cleaner than we remember. Don’t even get me started with country music.
A lot can be said about practicing guitar with a frighteningly clean sound. Strip away the fuzz and echo and bask in the glory of that stringy, popping, slicing tone that will reward your progress but punish your carelessness. Even after all these years, I’m a sloppy player. But getting it right when all the distortion is put back in the toy box is a scintillating high you can be proud of. It’s just a different addiction. The best part is that when you dial up the dirt again, it feels like flying.