Left: A 1959 Les Paul Standard owned by John Clardy. Photo by Billy Mitchell taken from Electric Guitars & Basses: A Photographic History by George Gruhn and Walter Carter, © Gruhn Guitars, used by permission. Right: A PRS SC 245. Photo courtesy of PRS Guitars.
For the previous 50 years, Fender had taken a mostly permissive attitude toward guitars built in the Tele or Strat style. Of course, they fought outright counterfeits, but as any perusal of guitar magazines from the '70s and '80s will attest, scores of makers were offering Strat and Tele doppelgangers—and there seemed to have been few cease-and-desist letters, few lawsuits. Why, Bienstock wondered, would Fender suddenly be seeking trademarks for the body shapes? He foresaw trouble for artisans like Tom Anderson Guitarworks or Roger Sadowsky of Brooklyn, whose S-style and T-style guitars pay homage to the Strat and Tele, respectively, only with a master luthier's touch.
Trademarking those shapes "would have turned the entire guitar industry on its head," the bass-playing lawyer says. "You have companies that have been making guitars and basses in those shapes since the late '50s. There was a visceral reaction." The worst-case scenario: a future in which Fender could shut down models some builders had been making for 25 years or insist on licensing fees. "None of these companies were saying these are shapes that they own," Bienstock adds. "They were just saying they are shapes [Fender] can't stop me from making."
So Bienstock, who has a long history of working on such cases, moved to block Fender's hoped-for trademarks on behalf of a consortium of independent guitar builders. Thus began one of the more contentious cases involving guitars and the courts in recent years—the latest flare-up in the guitar universe's strange, decades-long battle over body snatching. The decision came down last year (more on that later), and some say it marked the final word on guitar mimicry. But litigation is forever, so one never knows.
Trademarks vs. Patents
Guitar copies and the legal wrangling around them is one of those subjects that guitar aficionados talk about from time to time with more fascination than information. There is no clear body of law defining how far one may go in copying a design without exposing oneself to a lawsuit. There's no telling when or how you'd get sued, because the originators of the iconic guitar designs have historically been inconsistent—even arbitrary—about when and how aggressively they've challenged clones.
At a time when the music industry is obsessed with copyrights and intellectual property, the guitar industry operates in an environment somewhat like the permissive shadow world of hip-hop mix tapes. For most of the past 50 years, the guitar market has largely been a free-for-all where guitar manufacturers—from individual luthiers to assembly-line operations— have imitated classic guitars almost at will. In some cases, builders improved on the iconic designs and charged premium prices. In others, companies of dubious repute mass-manufactured mediocre facsimiles and sold them to players who covet the real thing but can't afford it. Of course Fender and Gibson, the two guitar makers with the most at stake, have introduced their own entry-level versions of their key models, but one could ask reasonably why should they have to compete with other makers' knockoffs of their own designs?
To get a handle on this issue, we'll need to go to law school for one paragraph so we can learn the difference between patents and trademarks. (In case you're wondering where "copyright" fits into the equation, it applies only to composed or authored works and, therefore, has no bearing on guitars or other manufactured items.) Patents cover inventions—anything that is functional, as opposed to aesthetic. One has to apply for a patent through a rigorous process in which you prove originality and describe your design in detail. If you win a patent, you have exclusive rights to make or license the invention until the patent expires (these days, it lasts 20 years). Trademarks, on the other hand, cover brands and nonfunctional design features (like Nike's swoosh or Fender's logo and signature headstock shape). Trademarks never expire. However, trademark owners must consistently protect and defend their trademarks. So for example, Xerox couldn't be lazy for 20 years and let other companies claim they make a better "Xerox" machine and then suddenly swoop in after the term has become generic and sue folks for using it.
Clash of the Titans, Pt. 1
A 1959 P bass owned by Clifford Antone. Photo by Billy Mitchell taken from Electric Guitars & Basses: A Photographic History by George Gruhn and Walter Carter, © Gruhn Guitars, used by permission.
The earliest industry trademark dispute anyone seems aware of actually pitted Fender against Gibson in the mid 1960s. Gibson had engaged automobile designer Roy Dietrich to come up with the Firebird, a zig-zaggy electric guitar that some have said evoked the era's oversized automobile tailfins. Fender decided that it too closely resembled its Jazzmaster and either sued or threatened to sue. By today's standards, Gibson would have had a pretty easy time defending itself—the profiles of the two instruments are quite different. Nonetheless, Gibson voluntarily made dramatic changes to the Firebird design and the dispute became moot.
Fast-forward to the 1970s and the rise of the Japanese manufacturing juggernaut. Besides small, fuel-efficient cars, the Japanese were making ever-better musical instruments. One such company was Hoshino Gakki, maker of Ibanez guitars. During that time, Hoshino made several lines of instruments that were clearly meant to evoke, if not outright copy, the look and sound of Gibson Les Paul and ES series guitars. According to a history of Ibanez by Michael Wright, Gibson's parent company at the time (Norlin) filed suit in Federal District Court in June of 1977 against the US distributor of Hoshino instruments "to send a message to all companies making copies" of Gibson instruments. The suit wasn't aimed at cloned body styling per se, but at overly similar headstock designs, which have always had more weight in the guitar world's code of honor than body styling anyway.
Wright says Hoshino had been preparing internally for such a challenge from US makers for several years and that Ibanez was moving away from copies to unique designs anyway. So the suit was easily settled out of court when Elger, the US distributor, pledged to stop making any evocative headstocks or using any confusing branding. Despite the lack of legal bloodshed, today you can find so-called "lawsuit" Ibanez guitars with Gibsonlike headstocks from the mid-'70s fetching anywhere from nearly a thousand dollars to more than two grand.
Clash of the Titans, Pt. 2
More recently, Gibson made a major trademark move on our own shores by suing Paul Reed Smith Guitars, one of the most esteemed craft builders in the country. Filed in November of 2000, the suit claimed PRS Singlecut solid-bodies infringed on Gibson's trademark of the Les Paul body shape, a trademark it had secured seven years prior. It was a sweeping, aggressive claim that demanded massive damages and accused PRS of unfair competition, fraud, and deceptive business practices. It seemed almost surreal, especially since a variety of companies around the world had been making far more accurate facsimiles of Les Pauls for years. Nevertheless, in 2004 a district court ordered PRS to stop making, distributing, and selling the Singlecut—one of its best-selling guitars.
The ban lasted just about a year. Then the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals overturned the injunction and in every possible way rebuked the findings of the lower court. One key part of the ruling hinged on one of the core criteria by which trademark infringement is tested—the likelihood that a consumer will be confused into purchasing an imitator brand while thinking he's buying the original. In assessing whether PRS Singlecuts passed this particular test, the appeals court cited the testimony of guitar historian Walter Carter, an expert witness called by Gibson, who famously said in a deposition (much to Gibson's dismay) that even if there were a possibility that someone could mistake a Singlecut for a Les Paul at a distance or in a smoky bar, "only an idiot" would confuse one for the other at the point of sale. Given that the PRS Singlecut had been such a hot seller before the court battle, it comes as no surprise that the company launched back into production of the single-cutaway guitar designs immediately after the court ruling. Current PRS guitars with that shape now include several SE import versions, US-made signature guitars such as the Mark Tremonti model, and the new US-made SC 58.
Carter, who works for Gruhn Guitars in Nashville, says the confusion test is too vague to be worth much anyway. "First, you've got to know enough about guitars to be even able to confuse the two," he says. "If you don't know anything about automobiles at all, you're not going to confuse a Volkswagen with a Cadillac. And then you can't have too much knowledge, or you won't be fooled for more than a second."
In the end, while Gibson failed to prove that PRS had violated its trademark, Gibson retained the trademark itself. So nothing rules out the prospect that the company could go after makers of more convincing Les Paul copies in the future.
Back to the Future (2003, That Is)
A 1954 Strat owned by Clifford Antone. Photo by Billy Mitchell taken from Electric Guitars & Basses: A Photographic History by George Gruhn and Walter Carter, © Gruhn Guitars, used by permission.
The case pitting Fender against Ron Bienstock's consortium of guitar builders was different. While Gibson had been trying to defend a trademark it already owned, Fender was applying for trademarks it had never had before. The obvious question was, after five decades of making Teles, Strats, and P basses, why then? The company's chief legal officer Mark Van Vleet says it was a response to a growing threat to the integrity of Fender's designs. "With the advent of the internet and with manufacturing in China being so prevalent, our primary concern was trying to deal with counterfeits and infringements—companies and people who are clearly trying to ride on Fender's history, Fender's place in the industry, and Fender's iconic status to sell their goods by confusing consumers." Van Vleet also says Ron Bienstock was being premature and speculative in his assertions that Fender was going to use its new trademark to muscle in on small luthiers.
"Our position is not that we were trying to monopolize anything," says Van Vleet. "We simply believed that we had the rights to these designs and, therefore, were trying to obtain rights that we were entitled to, just like we have in the past and like many other companies in the industry have done. We certainly were not trying to do something to the disadvantage of the industry."
Nevertheless, Fender fought for six years before the United States Patent and Trademark Office's Trademark Trial and Appeal Board (TTAB) rendered its final decision in March 2009. The trademarks were denied. Quite simply, the TTAB said, the claim came too late in the history of guitar building: Fender, they concluded, "never policed the body shape, only the word marks and headstock profiles. In addition, they never claimed trademark rights in the body outlines publicly through, for example, the catalogues, until 2004. In the meantime, many other guitar manufacturers sold guitars with the identical body shapes for at least 30 years, either as complete guitars or in the form of kits. In view of the above, we find that opposers have proven their claim that the applied-for configurations are generic."
Fender's Van Vleet says the company "respectfully disagrees" with the ruling. "In our opinion, the issue before the court was whether or not consumers or prospective consumers associate Fender being the source of those two-dimensional shapes. And we had boxes and boxes and roomfuls of evidence indicating that, when consumers saw those designs, they associated Fender as being the source." Van Vleet won't specify any actions the company is currently involved in against guitar makers for other trademarks they do own, only that, in general, "We will go after companies who we believe are infringing—somebody who's trying to confuse the consumer out there between what they're doing and what we're doing."
The Right Stuff
Victorious attorney Bienstock spins last year's decision on the Fender case as an important ruling on behalf of creative lutherie. "I fully believed in the righteousness of the cause," he says. "We needed to have this result. This was the right thing."
But it still doesn't seem that clear-cut. When it comes to building upon other companies' or individuals' designs, luthiers are still bound to ask "What's safe, legally?" Writer types are raised to believe plagiarism is pretty close to the worst nonviolent offense on the books. But guitar building is an art as much as it is a business. And art allows for—indeed depends on—creative borrowing and license. So the question then becomes whether one can bring an artist's eye to a copy. Is making your own "Strat" like covering a great song—that is, is it more of an homage—or is it a selfish move more akin to ripping an album you didn't buy and serving it on BitTorrent?
Gruhn Guitars' Walter Carter, who sees luthier-made tributes to Strats and Teles come through the famous Nashville shop all the time, says honorable builders "try to make some kind of improvement, cosmetic or functional— whether it's a beautiful top or a different kind of contour . . . almost always a different headstock . . . different pickups. That's the line between integrity and copy."
A 1953 Tele owned by Toby Ruckert. Photo by Walter Carter taken from Electric Guitars &
Basses: A Photographic History by George Gruhn and Walter Carter, © Gruhn Guitars,
used by permission.
Guitar historian and journalist Tom Wheeler agrees. "There are plenty of guitars out there made by reputable [builders] that one could look at and say, 'This is an interpretation of the Strat idea.' I think that's fine. I admire those guys. It's the guitar that is a copy down to the last screw that I feel it's a shame that Fender gets nothing." Wheeler shares other luthiers' puzzlement that these infrequent-but-intense battles have been fought over something as generic as the mere body shape—without reference to all the key design elements that make up the "face" of a Strat or Tele. "I hope that, at some point in the future, we can get beyond the issue of the two-dimensional body outline so that all manufacturers and every creative person can be a little more protected in their creativity and their work."
The Irresistible Piñata
It's been about a year since the Fender trademarks were denied, and with no conspicuous lawsuits out there, the few guitar geeks who watch this issue closely are saying it's probably now pretty much over. If you can't win a claim on a trademarked shape you do have (like Gibson), and you can't gain a new trademark on a tried-and-true body style (Fender), then where else is there to go? All we're left with is a fascinating question for the Monday morning quarterback. Did Gibson and Fender blow a historic opportunity and forego millions of dollars of revenue by not protecting their signature body shapes through trademark law earlier and more often?
James Boyle, a professor at Duke University who specializes in intellectual property issues, says there is no clear answer, because one has to remember that all those copies over the years have in a sense served as free advertising for the real thing. Boyle, reached by email, examined the issue in proper professorial fashion—in the form of some good questions: "Is part of the reason that Les Pauls, Strats, and Telecasters are iconic because they were the subject of so much slavish copying? Did the copying end up establishing them as the undoubted aristocracy of the guitarists' world—the guitar that the junior rocker dreams of moving up to once he has graduated from his first cheap knockoff? Or did [other manufacturers' copies] lose them a market that they could have legitimately controlled with trademark, and thus represent a substantial number of lost sales or licensing payments? You and I might have intuitions about which course would have been best, but it is hard to claim a watertight economic case."
No doubt the chief executives of those companies wonder about this themselves—perhaps more often than they let on. And, considering the sporadic history of this fight—as well as the stakes involved in such a competitive economy—it seems probable they or some future executives will eventually take another swing at the piñata.
[Updated 11/1/2021]
Slash grips one of the three highly mythologized Les Paul replicas that he has used over the years (right)—which may or may not have been the inspiration for his new signature Gibson Appetite Les Paul (left).
The story of Slash's instrument arsenal during the heady days of recording Guns N' Roses Appetite for Destruction is just such a tale, retold by our era's version of epic poets and debated as hotly as any controversial archaeological discovery.
In March 2010, Gibson Guitars released their Slash Appetite Les Paul model. The company's press materials proclaimed this was "the axe that launched a thousand riffs." In videos hosted on the Gibson website, Slash holds the new model next to his personal guitar and says, "This is the original right here," and "It's basically set up just like my original was." The camera slowly pans over the instrument and zooms in on some of the details.
"All things considered, with the original one, it just happened to have a certain sort of unique tone unto itself," Slash says in the video. "With the new one, we basically tried to capture that. The new Appetite for Destruction guitar is about as close as anybody could get to the original."
According to luthier Roman Rist, the middle Les Paul replica here is Slash's first from luthier
Kris Derrig—the one Rist says Slash used on the tail end of Appetite. The guitar on the right
was built by Peter "Max" Baranet. The instrument on the left is purportedly Slash's second
Derrig model.
Photo courtesy of Roman Rist
The guitar was hailed as an impressive instrument. When Premier Guitar reviewed it, we said, "It's a well-built, high-quality Les Paul with flawless playability and gorgeous looks." The review carried a 4.5 rating out of a possible 5.
That review also pointed out something that Slash fans and internet forum users had known all along: The Slash Appetite Les Paul is actually a replica of a replica— because the instrument Slash rocked on the iconic album wasn't actually a Gibson. The "original," as Slash calls it in the videos, was made by California luthier Kris Derrig.
Slash and Gibson did not respond to interview requests for this article. However, we should note that the general attitude among savvy guitarists is that Gibson's Appetite Les Paul isn't some attempt to hoodwink an unsuspecting public. Most observers feel that if a customer is a big enough fan to pay the list price of nearly five grand for the instrument, they'd also know the true story. And Gibson's new Appetite guitar does include some modern updates that theoretically improve its practicality for a mass audience. And in many ways the Gibson initiative to sell such an instrument addressed a burgeoning demand among consumers—and addressed it well.
"I don't fault them at all," says guitar builder Roman Rist, who figures into the earlier days of this tale. "Slash does have a relationship with Gibson. Slash is a bona fide rock star, and, for them, why not make a Slash model? I'm sure Slash had plenty of input in the design to be able to sign off and be happy with the guitar. I don't see anything wrong with it."
But while Gibson rehashed the iconic instrument for today's musician, the larger legend is much more complex. Indeed, there are many who allege Slash actually wielded three Les Pauls during the time in question. Those three guitars are shrouded in questions, contrasting memories, and conflicting reports. Examining the legend of these instruments is like trying to unravel the threads of an ancient Norse epic or documenting the numerous trysts and offspring of the Greek god, Zeus. Each answer opens a new question, each thread ends at the beginning of a new one.
The Epic of the Hunterburst
Mythologist, lecturer, and writer Joseph Campbell focused on the role mythology plays in the human experience, while examining myths and legends handed down through the centuries. There are certain constants that appear in myths, regardless of the culture that spawned them. There is a hero who must leave his comfort zone and embark on some sort of journey. Along the way, that hero encounters supernatural help in the form of "amulets," quoted in the Campbell passage above. The form of these implements changes throughout the myths. It could be King Arthur's Excalibur, or Perseus's gifts from the gods, or Luke Skywalker's lightsaber.
Or, in a musical context, the mythological structure could feature an impoverished, curly-haired hero encountering a transformative instrument.
In the early '80s, during Guns N' Roses' formative period, Slash was living hand-to-mouth. Struggling to eat and pay for a drug habit, he certainly lacked the wherewithal to accumulate fine vintage instruments.
"Those guys couldn't put two nickels together to buy a pack of Marlboros back then," says former Guns manager Vicky Hamilton. At the time, Hamilton even allowed the nascent rockers to move into her apartment— which surely diminished the likelihood of recovering her security deposit.
Due to such constricting finances, Slash played a variety of guitars during this period, as documented in Marc Canter's photography book Reckless Road: Guns N' Roses and the Making of Appetite for Destruction, and he was certainly not tied to any particular brand.
Throughout that text are photos of Slash with a red B.C. Rich Warlock, a B.C. Rich Mockingbird with visible wood grain, and—when he was very young—even a black Fender Stratocaster. In Slash's own best-selling memoir, Slash, written with co-author Anthony Bozza, the guitarist relates a story of asking Kiss' Paul Stanley for help procuring instruments from B.C. Rich.
It was in that wilderness of instrument experimentation that Slash came across the first amulet that would help him face the challenging climb up the ladder of rock 'n' roll stardom.
"I was playing a new guitar," Slash writes in his memoir. "It was a Les Paul that had belonged to '70s blues guitarist Steve Hunter. I'd traded my B.C. Rich for it at Howie Hubberman's place, Guitars R Us."
Obtaining this instrument was a major cause for celebration at the Guns base camp.
"I have one really good memory of Slash getting his first sunburst Gibson, and he brought it into our living room when we were all living together," says Hamilton. "He opened the case with pride and everyone gave him the 'ooh' and 'aah.'"
That guitar is frequently referred to as the "Hunterburst," after its former owner who was famous for performances with Alice Cooper, Peter Gabriel, Lou Reed, and even Aerosmith. Perhaps most notably, Hunter played on the Cooper tunes "Billion Dollar Babies" and "Welcome to My Nightmare," as well as Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill" single and Lou Reed's epic Rock n Roll Animal.
The problem is that Hunter doesn't know if his guitar ended up in Slash's hands. Though the influential guitarist politely declined to speak on the record for this interview, he did state he does not know what happened to his instrument after he sold it.
Guitar gurus Hubberman and Rist both handled Hunter's Les Paul and are certain the guitar went to Slash. The instrument came into the shop with original '50s parts, including PAF pickups that were ultimately removed to sell on the vintage market while the guitar was retrofitted with more modern, reasonably priced hardware.
"I put the Seymour Duncans in," Rist says. "I worked on setting it up and getting it to play good. It stayed there for maybe a couple of days. So maybe a couple of days later, Howie calls up Slash saying, 'I got the guitar for you.' Slash comes in and they work out some kind of deal."
Hubberman, who was also an early investor in the band, recalls that he sold the instrument to the young gunner for $2600, payable over time. "You know, they didn't have any money back then," Hubberman says. "I would just give things to them off the cuff and they'd catch up to me later down the line. Those guys always took care of me. Izzy [rhythm guitarist Izzy Stradlin] was probably the brokest of the bunch, but he would pay it off. Same thing with Slash. I mean, it took a couple of years for Slash to pay off that guitar, but he paid it off."
Humorously, Hubberman adds, "I think when he paid it off, he no longer owned it."
Legend and innuendo has it that Slash pawned the so-called Hunterburst to pay for his drug habit. While that can't be proven, it's certainly possible. In his memoir, the guitarist writes of times when "I sold my equipment for cash to score more smack."
Peter “Max" Baranet—the Man Behind the Hunterburst?
Rist argues that the Hunterburst, although not played on Appetite for Destruction, deserves a significant place in rock 'n' roll history.
"The Hunterburst carried a lot of weight because it was owned by a rock star who, in my opinion, had contributed greatly to the music scene," Rist says. "Steve Hunter is the real deal. So here's the guitar that went from the old guard to the new guard. That's the one that got him [Slash] hooked. The seed for his Les Paul addiction, becoming the Les Paul icon that he is, is the Hunterburst."
But, as was mentioned previously, the Hunterburst wasn't a Gibson. It was a replica. Steve Hunter says it was built by luthier Peter "Max" Baranet, who friends and clients typically refer to simply as Max. Howie Hubberman says the instrument was built by Baranet. So does Roman Rist.
Baranet himself? He's not so sure. In written statements and telephone interviews, Baranet won't confirm or deny that the Hunterburst is one of his instruments.
"Yeah, I don't remember it," he says. "There's people that remember it being in my shop and stuff. But there was a lot of stuff going on in those days, you know. A lot of guitar building and a lot of people running through."
The volume of Baranet's work was indeed staggering. "One year that I was at Image Guitars, I had assembled or custom made over 150 guitars," he recalls. "Singlehandedly. So, you know what I'm saying— [it's] one single guitar. I'm not going to remember everything."
This Les Paul replica commonly referred as "Hunterburst" (because it had been previously owned by Alice Cooper guitarist Steve Hunter) was reportedly Slash's first brush with a quality copy of Gibson's iconic guitar in and around the Appetite for Destruction period.
Photo by Mark Olson
Serial numbers and markings for replica instruments of the day were not standardized and provide little help in solving the mystery. Baranet says he sometimes used customers' birthdays, sometimes even Social Security numbers and other combinations of digits.
Despite Baranet's reluctance to claim the Hunterburst, his former colleague Rist is convinced Baranet built it.
"I worked with Max so long I know how he does things," Rist states. "There are certain little trademark things I can use to spot a Max from a mile away. There are other trademarks with the way he does his routing. If I open it up, I can go, 'Yep, this is a Max.'"
. . . Enter Kris Derrig Version
Whatever the lineage of the Hunterburst, at some point it passed out of Slash's hands. In general, the band had a quick excuse any time equipment went missing. "I think the story was that someone stole it," Hamilton laughs. "Which was a common story with those guys back in those days. Things just sort of disappeared and I didn't even know that they were up on my roof doing drugs and shit."
When Guns N' Roses entered the studio in late 1986 to record Appetite for Destruction, Slash was apparently playing an assortment of guitars that did not— according to some—include a Les Paul, whether replica or Gibson.
"Now, I was not there in the studio, but there are too many accounts from Slash and other people that a lot was recorded with a black Jackson and a red B.C. Rich," Rist says. He claims that most of the record was recorded with these instruments and that the second legendary Les Paul replica did not enter the picture "until Slash did all of the solo stuff."
Other sources claim a Les Paul replica was more prominent on the album. In Stephen Davis' 2008 book Watch You Bleed: The Saga of Guns N' Roses, he writes, "Slash cut most of the tracks with a Les Paul copy plugged into a Marshall amplifier."
But in a July 2010 interview with AOL's Noisecreep website, Slash himself seems to confirm, at least in part, the assertion that the LP didn't show up until late in the game, as well as rumors about the disposition of his earlier instruments.
"I was really broke and I hocked all my decent guitars before we went into the studio to make Appetite for Destruction," Slash tells the website staff. "All I had left were a B.C. Rich Warlock and two Jackson guitars, a Firebird, and a prototype archtop Strat-style guitar. I brought them all into the recording studio for the Appetite session and they all sounded horrible. I was like, 'F---, what do I do? I have to do the overdubs and I have no instrument.' So Guns N' Roses manager, Alan Niven, showed up the night before I went in to do the Appetite overdubs and brought me this Les Paul. I went in the next day and it was the most amazing sounding guitar."
That instrument, the second Les Paul replica in Slash's epic journey, is widely reported to be the work of the late Kris Derrig. Luthier Baranet references this guitar when he says, "And then the Derrig model came in, you know, at the last minute for the overdubs and solos."
At first glance, that seems to conflict with Slash's own statement in his book that, "It was made by the late Jim Foot[e], who owned MusicWorks in Redondo Beach."
However, guitar-building contemporaries explain that Derrig shared space with Foote (who is still alive), which probably accounts for Slash's statement in the book, especially since band manager Alan Niven brought the instrument to the guitarist. The rocker did not go to the shop himself.
"Kris had a workshop in the back of Jim Foote's store," Rist says. "Most guitar builders, they just want to be left alone and do their thing, and one thing you do not want to do a lot is deal with customers. So if you can have a buffer man out front, you can do your own thing a bit easier."
The Derrig model is presumed to be Slash's main guitar to this day. In the Gibson promotional materials, when Slash says, "the original," he's referencing the Derrig. Since that instrument went directly to the guitarist, the builders interviewed for this article don't have any firsthand knowledge of the guitar.
Of Holy Trinities and Eternal Myths
In this photo taken in 2001, Luthier Peter "Max" Baranet (left) stands with Slash and the Les Paul
replica he built for the gunslinger.
Photo courtesy of Peter Baranet
Allegedly, Slash obtained a third replica shortly after recording Appetite for Destruction. According to some, he obtained a second Derrig model. Others claim he got another Baranet instrument.
"Through Howie, Max was made aware that Slash needed a Les Paul and he needed one in a hurry," Rist says. "And it was mainly, from everything I know, for the purpose of another touring backup." Although it cannot be confirmed, Slash is presumed to still own that third replica.
Ultimately, some of the arguments surrounding these three replicas may never be solved. Short of getting Slash, the luthiers, and the guitars all in the same room and subjecting them to CSI-level scrutiny, some definitive answers simply cannot be had. In the absence of such hard data, the topic will continue to be passionately debated. One internet message board features an epic 531-post argument that spans three years— and people continue to post on the subject to this day!
While some observers may feel this level of fanatical discourse is a waste of time, it's what true believers do. They staunchly defend their interpretation of the myth or legend. At this very moment, some academic in a college classroom is surely arguing over the true historical figure that served as the inspiration for King Arthur. The Slash Les Paul replica debate simply features more volume.
Although Slash might see it differently, he undoubtedly fulfills Campbell's role of the hero who reinterprets a tradition and makes it valid for a current era.
During the early '80s, pointy guitars with whammy bars and slick paint jobs were required equipment for any aspiring rocker. Slash's bluesy, more straight-ahead rock 'n' roll riffs and leads on Appetite for Destruction swung the spotlight back on Les Pauls, which had been pushed to the side since the '70s heyday of Led Zeppelin and other LP-slinging bands.
"Back in the '80s, the Burst market was dead," says Baranet. "I used to go to the guitar shows in Texas every six months. I've got pictures from '88 of rows and rows of Bursts priced around seven to ten grand, and nobody was buying. When Guns N' Roses broke, Slash was playing a Les Paul in those three videos in constant rotation on MTV." That exposure attracted international collectors who scooped up Les Pauls, making them scarcer domestically. Accordingly, prices escalated.
"Slash playing Les Pauls was what kickstarted it," Baranet continues. "It's kind of funny, because he was playing replicas at the time, yet he kicked off the real Burst market, as well as the reissue and historic market that followed later."
While the truth of Slash's Les Paul arsenal may never be known, the fact is that guitarists and music lovers will always revere these iconic instruments. And they will always be fascinated by the fine details of the axes.
"To put it in an almost philosophical sense, it puts them closer to god," Rist says. "Especially if you take a look at Slash: He was a kid with an undying belief that he would make it, and now he's turned into a huge star. So you have all these people who wished they could get into that kind of position. They dream of it, but they'll never get there. Sometimes the closest people can get to that place is just talking about it."
Yes, Rist's assertion is a tough one to argue with. Talk of this hero who found iconic implements to complete a quest—and create a legend—truly is bound to continue from this generation and into subsequent generations as long as guitarists dream of ascending from musical mortality and entering the pantheon of guitar gods.
The Reality of Replicas
Undoubtedly, major guitar manufacturers like Gibson, Fender, and Ibanez view any instrument produced by an unofficial source to be counterfeit. And legally that's certainly true. But the handmade replica culture is not the same thing as some unsuspecting musician getting ripped off. Instead, all parties involved (except the major companies) agree that this can be an honorable transaction among consenting adults—one that involves high-quality instruments.
"Keep in mind that a guitar builder is very similar to an artist," says Roman Rist. "For an artist to pull off a convincing Picasso means he has arrived. It is not about passing off a fake. Rather, it's a way of saying 'Hey, this is my business card. If I can do this, I can do just about anything.'"
Some replica builders who did not want to be identified in this story even have relationships with the companies they're copying. They might do custom work for those manufacturers or help out in a pinch. Replicas are frequently of such stellar quality that they command high prices on the vintage market to this day.
"The last nice Max-made Les Paul that I know of changed hands for $45,000," says Howie Hubberman. Baranet himself won't confirm this, but when offered a range of $35,000 to $50,000, he says, "They've resold much higher than that."
Ironically, some replica builders are so respected that other people copy their work.
"There are more forgeries of my stuff than my replicas of the corporate stuff," Baranet laughs.
Other Legendary Guitars Shrouded in Mystery
Slash's Appetite for Destruction Les Pauls are not the only instruments open to speculation, conjecture, and controversy. The beat-to-hell, red-and-white-striped "Frankenstrat" that Eddie Van Halen made famous is a mutt of various components. Depending on who you believe, the body is a Warmoth, Fender, or Charvel. Kramer stepped in and made similar instruments for the guitar slinger in the early '80s, the most famous being the 5150 guitar with a hockey-stick-style headstock. Many fans confuse the Frankenstrat with the Kramer 5150. The high-end EVH-branded replicas of the Frankenstrat (right)—which are made by Fender and sold under the Frankenstein model name—further complicate the discussion.
George Lynch's skull-and-bones guitar is another oddity. Nicknamed "Mom," the highly carved instrument played by the shredder in such Dokken videos as "Dream Warriors" carried a misleading nameplate. The guitar was actually built by J. Frog. However, when he got the instrument Lynch had recently started a relationship with ESP Guitars, so he slapped an ESP sticker on the headstock before using it in the band's videos.
[Updated 11/10/21]
