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 henās 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, didnāt 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 āTone Messerā upgrade, a built-in distortion/fuzz circuit. The companyās 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.
āTo this day, even fans will sometimes call the decision to use DeArmonds the Messengerās āAchillesā heel.āā
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 Messengerās āAchillesā heel.ā) 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, thereās 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 āwhoa, manā 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 blockāresonant frequency or notāthe apple-shaped hollow wooden body of the guitar, and the catās-eye-style āf-holesā 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 eraās hard rockers.
The most famous devotee of the Messenger was Grand Funk Railroadās Mark Farner, who used the guitarāand its Tone Messer circuitryāextensively on the groupās string of best-selling records and in their defining live shows, like the Atlanta Pop Festival 1970 and their sold-out run at New Yorkās 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: āAfter I stuffed it full of foam and put masking tape over the f-holes to stop that squeal, I said, āI like it.āā 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 Chicagoās own SS Vintage. Given that itās 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 donāt 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 ā60s and early ā70s.
Sources: Reverb listing from SS Vintage, Reverb Price Guide sales data, Musicraft July 1, 1967 Price Schedule, 1968 Musicraft Catalog, Chicago Music Exchangeās āUncovering The Secret Sounds of the 1967 Musicraft Messenger Guitar,ā MusicPickups.com article on the Messenger.My years-long search for the ārightā Bigsby-outfitted box finally paid off. Now how do I make this sumbitch work in my band?
Considering the amount of time Iāve spent (here and elsewhere) talking about and lusting after Gretsch hollowbody guitars, itās taken me a remarkably long time to end up with a big Bigsby-outfitted box I truly love. High-end Gretsches are pricey enough that, for a long time, I just couldnāt swing it. Years ago I had an Electromatic for a while, and it looked and played lovely, but didnāt have the open, blooming acoustic resonance I hoped for. A while later, I reviewed the stellar Players Edition Broadkaster semi-hollow, and it was so great in so many ways that I set my sights on it, eventually got one, and adore it to this day. Yet the full-hollowbody lust remained.
Iāve long been more of a single-coil player than a humbucker guy, so the more I thought about it, the more intrigued I was by the idea of a hollow with pickups that werenāt of the FilterāTron variety. I also liked the idea of a lower-key aesthetic. So in early April, after a bunch of research and listening, I pulled the trigger on a beauty from the other stellar āGā hollowbody brand. With its transparent blonde finish and P-90-esque Franz single-coil pickups, the Guild X-175B Manhattan I picked up ticks both boxes nicely. And for a very reasonable used price, too.
After outfitting it with a set of Thomastik-Infeld flatwound strings, I ended up loving the Manhattanās woody resonance so much I had to try it with my band. Problem is, I play in a drums-and-guitar duo where my Vibrolux Reverb runs in tandem with a bass amp to fill out the sonic space (two of my main band axes are baritones, and a keyboard goes through the same pedalboard and amp array). As you mightāve guessed, the Manhattan did not initially love the bass amp. When I plugged in with my usual settings, the howling was so rabid I figured the Guild would never work out at band volumesāor at least not in that band.
You canāt ride the wild horsey without widening your entire playing mindset to be much more cognizant of when something ā¦ threatens to cause a fit of mad buzzing.
But the more I played the 175B through other amps and at quieter volumes, the more I realized I had to give it another go. The guitarās acoustic depth and the Franzās clear-but-mellow, almost Jazzmaster-esque response are so old-school charming but big and bold and vibrant that I decided it might be worth revamping settings for the entire bass-and-guitar-amp rig.
Figuring it all out has been a wild mustang ride. Tremolo and vibrato intensity needed to be increased a tad to yield the same vibes they do with other guitars. But my usual gnarly fuzz tastes are too out-of-control and indistinct with the Manhattan, so fuzz might be off the board indefinitely. The good news is that you can work that howling susceptibility to your advantage and create huge, pulsating sounds that are as bombastic in their own way as a fuzzed-out solidbody.
To bridle the beast, I tried shoving a sock or four through the f-holes. It worked a bit, but it also deadened the sound and killed that āaliveā feeling that makes the resonating body so cool to work with in the first place. So out the socks went. Interestingly, bringing down the volume of the Vibroluxānot the bass ampāhelped significantly, though I refuse to take it below 3 because it just wonāt sound right. Being mindful of how playing positions and proximity to the amps exacerbate the problem are also key. Even so, you canāt ride the wild horsey without widening your entire playing mindset to be much more cognizant of when somethingāmost often itās simply sustaining a 6th-string noteāthreatens to cause a fit of mad buzzing. Itās an entirely new world of dynamics, dampening, and muting, with both your fretting and your picking hands.
Weāre still experimenting with how all this might shake out in the band, but so far the sounds and overall vibes are so cool weāre considering adjusting song arrangements, instrumentation, and tunings to better coalesce around the Guildās wonderful sounds. (The simplicity of one guitar, one keyboard, and not too many pedals has its attendant benefits, too, including a streamlined sonic aesthetic and reduced time and technical issues between songs.) Anyway, wish us luck!
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