A mix of futuristic concepts and DeArmond single-coil pickups, the Musicraft Messenger’s neck was tuned to resonate at 440 Hz.
The idiosyncratic, Summer of Love-era Musicraft Messenger had a short-lived run and some unusual appointments, but still has some appreciators out there.
Funky, mysterious, and rare as hen’s teeth, the Musicraft Messenger is a far-out vintage guitar that emerged in the Summer of Love and, like so many heady ideas at the time, didn’t last too much longer.
The brainchild of Bert Casey and Arnold Curtis, Musicraft was a short-lived endeavor, beginning in San Francisco in 1967 and ending soon thereafter in Astoria, Oregon. Plans to expand their manufacturing in the new locale seemed to have fizzled out almost as soon as they started.
Until its untimely end, Musicraft made roughly 250 Messengers in various configurations: the mono-output Messenger and the flagship Messenger Stereophonic, both of which could come with the “Tone Messer” upgrade, a built-in distortion/fuzz circuit. The company’s first catalog also featured a Messenger Bass, a wireless transmitter/receiver, and various models of its Messenger Envoy amplifier, very few of which have survived, if many were ever made at all.
“To this day, even fans will sometimes call the decision to use DeArmonds the Messenger’s ‘Achilles’ heel.’”
Upon its release, the Messenger was a mix of futuristic concepts and DeArmond single-coil pickups that were more likely to be found on budget instruments than pricier guitars such as these. The Messengers often featured soapbar-style DeArmonds, though some sported a diamond grille. (To this day, even fans will sometimes call the decision to use DeArmonds the Messenger’s “Achilles’ heel.”) The Stereophonic model, like the one featured in this edition of Vintage Vault, could be plugged into a single amplifier as normal, or you could split the bridge and neck pickup outputs to two separate amps.
One of the beloved hallmarks of the guitars are their magnesium-aluminum alloy necks, which continue as a center block straight through the tailpiece, making the guitars relatively lightweight and virtually immune to neck warping, while enhancing their playability. Thanks to the strength of that metal-neck design, there’s no need for a thick heel where it meets the body, granting unprecedented access to the higher end of the fretboard.
This Stereophonic model could be plugged into a single amplifier as normal, or you could split the bridge and neck pickup outputs to two separate amps.
The neck was apparently also tuned to have a resonant frequency of 440 Hz, which, in all honesty, may be some of that 1967 “whoa, man” marketing continuing on through our modern-day guitar discourse, where this fact is still widely repeated on forums and in YouTube videos. (As one guitar aficionado to the next, what does this even mean in practice? Would an inaudible vibration at that frequency have any effect at all on the tone of the guitar?)
In any event, the combination of that metal center block—resonant frequency or not—the apple-shaped hollow wooden body of the guitar, and the cat’s-eye-style “f-holes” did make it prone to gnarly fits of feedback, especially if you engaged the Tone Messer fuzz and blasted it all through the high-gain amp stacks favored by the era’s hard rockers.
The most famous devotee of the Messenger was Grand Funk Railroad’s Mark Farner, who used the guitar—and its Tone Messer circuitry—extensively on the group’s string of best-selling records and in their defining live shows, like the Atlanta Pop Festival 1970 and their sold-out run at New York’s Shea Stadium in 1971. But even Farner had some misgivings.
The Messengers often featured soapbar-style DeArmonds, though some sported a diamond grille.
In a 2009 interview, he talked about his first test-run of the guitar: “After I stuffed it full of foam and put masking tape over the f-holes to stop that squeal, I said, ‘I like it.’” He bought it for $200, on a $25-per-pop installment plan, a steal even at the time. (He also made it over with a psychedelic paint job, befitting the era, and experimented with different pickups over the years.)
When these guitars were new in 1967, the Messenger Stereophonic in morning sunburst, midnight sunburst, or mojo red would have run you $340. By 1968, new stereo models started at $469.50. Recent years have seen prices for vintage models steadily increase, as the joy of this rarity continues to thrill players and collectors. Ten years ago, you could still get them for about $1,500, but now prices range from $3,000 to $6,000, depending on condition.
Our Vintage Vault pick today is listed on Reverb by Chicago’s own SS Vintage. Given that it’s the stereo model, in very good condition, and includes the Tone Messer upgrade, its asking price of $5,495 is near the top-end for these guitars today, but within the usual range. To those readers who appreciate the vintage vibe but don’t want the vintage price tag, Eastwood Guitars offers modern reissues, and eagle-eyed buyers can also find some very rare but less expensive vintage MIJ clones made in the late ’60s and early ’70s.
Sources: Reverb listing from SS Vintage, Reverb Price Guide sales data, Musicraft July 1, 1967 Price Schedule, 1968 Musicraft Catalog, Chicago Music Exchange’s “Uncovering The Secret Sounds of the 1967 Musicraft Messenger Guitar,” MusicPickups.com article on the Messenger.The Chthonic Fuzz is designed to offer sludgy, tight-grain fuzz tones and is impactful with guitars outfitted with any types of pickups, though specifically designed for “brighter” single-coil, P90, DeArmond, or gold-foil equipped instruments.
DigiTech/DOD invites guitarists to embrace their darker side with the release of the Chthonic Fuzz (pronounced “thaw-nick” and meaning “of or relating to the underworld”) , a minimalist, vintage-inspired pedal with impressive versatility and a distinctive voice.
Expanding upon an initial ‘70s informed, single-knob (Output) fuzz circuit, DOD engineers added functionality via a separate gain control (Fuzz) and a gentle passive tone control (Lustre) that ensures audible pick attack throughout the entire frequency range, making for a still easy-to-use, but more flexible pedal, capable of the darkest, most potent fuzz to subtle touches of sonic grit and everywhere in between. A pair of 2N2222 transistors allows for traditional transistor clipping that can be dramatically reined in by dialing back the guitar volume knob. As a two-transistor pedal, the Chthonic Fuzz – like many vintage-style fuzz boxes – works best when placed first in the signal chain.
The Fuzz and Output dials are most prominent on the pedal, side by side at the top of the housing, with the smaller Lustre knob sitting just beneath the Fuzz control at the upper-left of the pedal. The Chthonic’s eye-catching visual presentation is rounded out by a sturdy footswitch, crisp blue LED power indicator, and a unique “Kraken/Cthulhu” graphic by the same individual responsible for the artwork of the DOD Carcosa Fuzz, conceptually considered a “bright twin” to the darker Chthonic Fuzz.
The Chthonic Fuzz includes true bypass and accepts a linear 9vDC adapter or 9V Alkaline Dry Battery.
Guitarists seeking fat, meaty fuzz, and singular overdrive textures need to look no further than the Chthonic Fuzz available on Halloween, October 31st. MSRP is $208 and Street Price is $149.99
For more information, please visit digitech.com.
An Improbable Restoration Project Reinvigorated This Fantastic Vintage Acoustic-Electric
Few might invest in an old Kay as deeply as our columnist, but, in his case, it paid off.
When I was in my early days of researching guitar history, I embraced all sorts of guitars from all over the place, from kitchen countertop guitars to cheap rusty resonator jobs. I really had no focus whatsoever. Every topic, as it related to guitars, was rather fascinating. Eventually, though, I moved towards crazy electrics and away from folksy acoustics. I wanted loud, interesting, and rare, and in my eyes acoustic guitars were all sort of the same. I know, I know … they aren’t the same at all. But in the 1960s, acoustic guitars were copies of copies, and they just never really held my interest. For this month, when I was tasked to write about an acoustic guitar, the choice was easy since I only own one.
My acoustic guitar is an early 1960s Kay model that has seen its share of wear and fixed cracks. Based on the size, it’s most likely the Kay Plains Special, with mahogany sides and a solid spruce top. When I first saw this worn-out old boy with the art deco headstock, I could tell someone really loved it. The neck has a lovely deep-V shape, and even though the guitar was in disrepair, I wanted to give it a second chance. So, off it went to a few different techs who gave it a refretting (Kay used some pretty bad frets), crack repairs on the top, a neck reset, and a reglued bridge.
I suppose most folks wouldn’t want to put that kind of money into a cheap guitar, but, in my eyes, it’s like recycling. The Kay Musical Instrument Company was one of two Chicago-based manufacturing behemoths, along with Harmony. (Valco, the other notable Windy City-based instrument maker, merged with Kay in 1967.) Both companies specialized in interesting fare, often geared towards beginners and intermediate players. I love so many of the old Kay and Harmony guitars.
Vintage Kay Acoustic Demo with DeArmond Model 210 Pickup
Hear guitarist Mike Dugan slide and strum on the author’s Kay/DeArmond combination.
With this acoustic, I knew what I needed to add, and that came from Toledo, Ohio. I’ve often mentioned that I grew up and live near the Martin Guitar Factory in Nazareth, Pennsylvania. When I was a kid, I took my first guitar lessons at a little music shop called the Nazareth Music Center (and it’s still open for business). Throughout the ’80s, as my love affair with guitars began to grow, I frequented the quaint little shop that was a converted two-story home. The waiting room was the old kitchen and the lesson rooms were in the basement. On the first floor was a counter on the left and some instruments for sale on the right … kind of like a sitting room. I wish I could travel back in time because that store, back then, had amassed all sorts of inventory from several decades of business. One item that always held my interest were the blue and white boxes of DeArmond pickups that were still new in the package. These were the early days of my interest in “hot-rodding” guitars and mixing and matching parts, so I ended up buying a few of these old pickups.
The DeArmond Company was started in Toledo by Harry DeArmond and, since the mid-1930s, they specialized in guitar pickups that could be attached to acoustic and archtop guitars. They definitely filled a need, since electric guitar popularity was just around the bend. The company made all sorts of crazy pickups and almost all of them sound amazing.
My favorite of the old DeArmond pickups is the model 210, which always seemed to be the most powerful sounding to my ears. Plus, this pickup is fully adjustable via the threads on the polepieces. There’s a whole laundry list of professionals who’ve used the DeArmond 210, and I can understand why—it just has that vintage sound built right in. (Of course, back then, that sound was contemporary!) I use this pickup with my old Kay as a slide player with open tunings.
There’s a lesson here for all you acoustic players that shun the new and fancy and innovative. Take an old American-made acoustic and an old American-made pickup, and you really have something.