|
Landreth soaked up the local culture in the seventies while playing with Clifton Chenier, the renowned zydeco king. Throughout this early period he was actively perfecting his playing style, one that was also coerced along by a devout interest in the method of Chet Atkins. His high regard for the music of contemporaries such as Scotty Moore, Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix was matched with an inexhaustible desire to further his slide playing technique into unchartered territory. All of these attributes would later give way to the signature playing style of Sonny Landreth.
Guitarists throughout the world are awestruck when viewing the chordal and picking dexterity that transpires on either side of the glass. The slide, which is on his pinky finger, glides above the fretboard and along the strings; simultaneously, the other four fingers fret chords and notes to the left of it. And while the five fingers on the right hand pick, pluck and tap away, he concurrently utilizes a unique muting technique with his palms and his fingers. Both thumbs are utilized to the max throughout all of this. People who watch Landreth’s technique notice something new and extraordinary every time they’re in his presence.
Both South of I-10 and Levee Town, released in 1995 and 2000 respectively, contain some of the most incredible slide guitar work ever recorded. These Landreth albums are drenched in delta blues and zydeco flavors, a backdrop to a sound that’s both genuine and traditional. While inclusions such as “Love And Glory,” “Levee Town” and “Congo Square” (covered by names as diverse as John Mayall, Tom Principato, Kenny Neal and the Neville Brothers) went on to garner songwriter recognition, his adeptness for traditional blues ambiance is blatant on tracks like “Broken Hearted Road” and “Great Gulf Wind.”
Nevertheless, the rollicking instrumental, “Native Stepson,” has become an anthem for fans everywhere – the exclaimer of his existence to the unaware, as well. Instantly seizing the ears of music enthusiasts everywhere, the song heralded far and wide the talent of this burgeoning slide guitarist from Louisiana. Recorded live at the Grant Street Dancehall in Lafayette back in 2004, Grant Street is an amazing display of Landreth in a live setting where he creates an exhilarating atmosphere. An electrifying “Native Stepson” opens the set.
Looking outside his slide prowess – an act that’s sometimes hard to do – the fact shouldn’t be overlooked that he’s a great guitarist when playing conventionally, a fine vocalist and an accomplished composer and lyricist. Citing him as one of the most underrated musicians on the planet, as well as one of the most advanced, Eric Clapton chose Landreth to open his Crossroads festival in Chicago back in the summer of 2007. As anyone associated with Clapton, this incident assisted greatly in furthering Landreth’s notoriety. Finally, he has elevated to a level in which he’s able to call past and present idols his peers – some of which appear on his 2008 collaborative effort.
Sonny Landreth gets by with a little help from friends Eric Clapton, Mark Knopfler, Eric Johnson, Robben Ford, Vince Gill and more on From the Reach. It’s an amazing collaboration of sorts. Although Landreth composed the entire album, each song was written specifically for its special guest musician. The endeavor was such a success that one might think the guests wrote the songs instead of Sonny, primarily because the styles are so akin to their own.
It just goes to show the degree of admiration and respect he has for each friend and acquaintance on the album. One can easily sense elements of camaraderie and reverence radiate from the performances, along with an air of aptness – not in a competitive sense, but in a sanguine optimism in knowing that they’re among peers of distinction. It’s obvious that the music being made was exciting to even them. Clapton excels in his two efforts, as does Knopfler in the album’s opener, and those examples just scrape the surface. Importantly enough, Landreth shines throughout. Playing alongside him seems to have compelled each guest to stand out alongside Landreth – but then again, that’s what brilliant performers aspire to. The brilliance of performance is augmented when people of such caliber do it together, making the music all the more enjoyable to listen to.
We recently sat down with Sonny Landreth to talk about left and right hand playing techniques, the making of From the Reach and much more.
Sonny, a lot has been going on lately.
Well, it has.
From The Reach is a great album, by the way.
I appreciate it, man. I’m really happy with it.
Bassist Dave Ranson has said that your slide playing has a tendency to scare other slide players. How does that make you feel?
[Laughs] I don’t know about that, man. I just keep my head down and try to play in tune and in time. We’ve done a lot of shows with a lot of great musicians which is always inspirational. Every time I hear these other players, I go, “Oh, man.” It’s about getting fired up, in terms of the creative side of it.
Who were your influences growing up? Who helped in coercing you to develop such a great style?
I had a ton of heroes and I always loved music. My older brother was always bringing music into the house, ever since I was a little kid. We were living in Mississippi; we moved to Louisiana when I was seven years old – I thanked my dad for years about making that move. [laughs] It’s such a great culture here.
The Cajun and zydeco influence started here in Dixieland, New Orleans and New Orleans jazz. I played trumpet in school, so I had classical and jazz influences with rock n’ roll. Early on it was Scotty Moore with Elvis, the Ventures and then an older kid in a music store turned me on to Chet Atkins. That’s how I learned the right hand fingerstyle approach – from Chet Atkins. Some years later, when I was getting into delta blues and discovering slide, I was using the slide with that same approach on the right hand. It set me on my path. I heard B. B. King when I was 16, and at a funky little club in Louisiana I heard Clifton Chenier for the first time – the Zydeco King. He invited me inside and my world changed that night. I saw, heard and met Jimi Hendrix in the late sixties when he played in Baton Rouge. There are a lot of influences.
Talk about playing behind the slide with the left hand.
What I learned from the delta players was to tune the guitar to a certain key. For example, if the song is in E, there are two basic tunings. I would use those and then start experimenting with tunings of my own. I was playing a blues thing and I was frustrated about playing in a minor key while tuned to a major key. Long story short, I could see the notes behind the glass and had the inspiration to fret that note behind the glass. When using a slide, the strings float over the neck – you don’t use the frets. You don’t press against the fretboard like you do when playing regular guitar. The slide makes the tones on the strings as they float above the fretboard, so behind that there’s just enough room on the hand. I have the slide on my little finger, leaving the other three fingers to chord or use for fretting positions behind and under the glass. It’s the combination of the fretted notes and the slide notes that are floating that creates the mojo.
When I discovered that, it opened the window. I sensed the potential for the creativity of slide guitar way more than I had even anticipated. I just became more adventurous and started trying things, and I started coming up with all these different techniques. But what it really comes back to is my role models; these delta players were the package in one deal – the singer, songwriter in most cases and guitar player. So they were supporting the lyric in the song, and in the case of using the slide, they could create different sounds. So that’s what it’s about for me. It’s about the song and using these techniques for the sake of the lyric more than anything.
 | |
|
As I had said, I learned the Chet Atkins fingerstyle approach. Looking back on it, that’s when I started realizing the guitar as a solo instrument. That was the gift I got from Chet Atkins. I love those albums where it’s just his guitar – the electric guitar. But it’s somewhat of a classical approach as a solo instrument, like a piano. He would have a bass line and a fingerpicking pattern, with rhythm, chords and a melody all going around at the same time. That left an impression on me, and I think that once I got into using a slide on the left hand, which I got from the delta bluesmen, it really set me on my own path.
Now, to get a little more technical, one thing that’s important to discuss is the muting technique, whereby you assign a finger per string. From high to low, the high string would be the third finger on the right hand, the second string would be the second finger and the third string would be the first – or index finger. The thumb controls the bottom three. What happens is, whatever note I’m playing on whichever string – with the slide, for example – if it’s a single note then all the other strings are muted by allowing the fingers to drape or cover those strings. Obviously, I don’t do that all the time because a lot of times you want all that to open up and ring. But that’s how you learn to control what’s happening on one side of the slide when the notes are ringing and to use your palm to extract tones and overtones on notes on the other side of the glass.
There’s another technique that uses the palm of your right hand. You have some distance between the very bottom of the string and the fretboard with slide, so when I’m sliding those strings officially aren’t touching the frets and are not touching the fretboard. I’ll probably contradict myself later, because there’s always a weird reverse technique that pulls out a different sound when doing the exact opposite. [laughs] But basically, that allows you to press down all six strings or any combination with the palm. As you press down, the slide goes with you. That allows you to excite the strings and bend the notes behind the slide – the ghost notes I call them.
What you can do is emulate vibrato, tremolo, chorus and echo. Also, when you fret certain notes on the neck, let’s say two strings in harmony and the other four strings are floating with the slide, the clash of the two creates the potential for oscillations, which can also be controlled with the right hand. You can control the speed of them – they can really ring on and be very strange at the same time. It adds a lot of character to the overall sound which becomes more complex. You’re not just getting individual notes, but you’re getting a combination of notes and overtones plus the effect of these oscillations.
As you had said, you began on the trumpet. Did that influence your guitar playing style?
Oh yeah, and I was talking to Robben Ford about this – he started out playing saxophone. You approach the guitar with a completely different idea about phrasing because as a wind instrument player, be it sax, trumpet, trombone, oboe or flute, you have to take a breath and then play the passage. Your phrasing is completely geared around taking that breath. What that also does is bring out much more of an expression of the voice from the human side. It makes it more emotional, I think. It’s a different approach, a different idea and a different concept.
You have amazing tone, live and in the studio. Is that more a gear related thing, or is it in the fingers and through your amazing technique?
Tone is number one. Even as a kid I wanted to have my own sound. I recognized that all my heroes have their own unique style and their own sound. As soon as I hear it, I know it. That’s such and such, and this is that person. That’s what I always strived for – my own tone and phrasing. It comes from deep within.
It really doesn’t matter if it’s guitars, pickups, pedals or no pedals, amps, preamp tubes, speakers – it comes from a place where you find your own voice. Again, that’s what impressed me early on; I really wanted to sing the guitar, have my own voice on the guitar. That’s a huge part of it for me.
And it’s usually done on a Stratocaster.
I’ve got Gibsons and Fenders – I’ve just got a lot of guitars. Its apples and oranges, but I’ve settled on the Strat because it has got something going for it with slide that I just can’t shake. It’s more versatile. I can cover more bases with it. But on the other hand I have Les Pauls too. I learned to play Hendrix on a Gibson ES-175, an old jazz hollowbody. [laughs] I love ‘em all. But yeah, it’s my favorite [the Strat].
 | |
|
It really is. You color that with various gadgets, gear and that sort of thing, but it really starts with that. You really should be able to hold your own. If you really want to test your metal, sort of speak, don’t use any effects. Plug straight into an amp and just try playing a gig like that. When you’ve got your own voice, it’s going to come through no matter what.
How’s the action set up on your guitars?
I use what would be considered a medium action for acoustic guitar. I use gauge .13 thru .56, pretty heavy for a rocker, but it’s really not for a grasser. Bluegrass players like high action and the heavier strings are okay for them. What it does for me, when using open tuning – chordal tuning – is that gauge really opens up the sound of the guitar. You get a lot more harmonics and overtones, which enables you to get a more complex sound.
What tunings do you get into?
I have a lot of tunings I use, but at a gig it’s anywhere from five to eight. It depends upon the set list and what we’re doing that night.
Are there any particular tunings you like more than others?
I’d put them more in a group. I like the slack key tunings – the Spanish tunings, like G and D. I love the elasticity of the sound and the feel it gives you. The notes elongate just a little more. They really sink into each note. I love that, like in Elmore James’ “Dust My Broom.” D is just the blues key I think. For some of the more complicated things, the higher tunings like E and A, for example, the fingering is all the same from E to D. The fingering positions are the same for A and G. However, it’s a higher sound because the harmonics are different, there’s more tension and it just gives it more of an edge for tunes that rock a bit more. And F minor, or various tunings in minor keys, I love those. Some of my favorite tunings are minor, and I’ve always felt that the minor blues is about the most beautiful sound there is.
You played at Clapton’s Crossroads festival last summer.
Yes, we did. We were the first ones to come out the chute, man – 12 o’clock noon. We had been up most of the night before, playing a late night gig and we were ready to rock at noon. [laughs] It was just a real huge moment for me when Eric Clapton came out and sat in with us – that was about the greatest affirmation for me. He was one of my original guitar heroes. That’s why I wanted him on the new album, too. It was really exciting and we’d been playing a lot so the band was on. As a group we felt really good. It was crazy because it’s always by the seat of your pants at any festival oriented gig. The crew and all were fantastic, but it’s just great to play live and be around all those amazing musicians.
 | |
|
Actually, I worked on his album, A Sense of Place, in 1990. On that project I met my future co-producer, Bobby Field – R. S. Field. And that was another one. I was a huge John Mayall, Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck fan. Way back I’d listen to their music, so I was really honored to get to do that. He was great to work with and the fact that he did a couple of my songs was a huge honor as well.
He got a lot of wear out of “Congo Square.”
Yeah, that’s the one most covered by people.
On your new one, From the Reach, were the tracks all done correspondently?
Not all, but just about all of them. The way I put it to everyone was that I’d do whatever they wanted. Of course, they were invited to come to South Louisiana or I would go to them with the tracks – however they wanted to do it; at home and send it back to me. In most cases, that’s what they did and I had anticipated that. They had all been on heavy touring schedules and were finally home. That way they got to go to their studio with their engineer. So my job, as producer, was to use the Pro Tools technology and capture the moment emotionally. The beauty of this format was that we’d mix as we’d go.
I was able to send each artist the exact mix we were working with. I think that really helped. The twist on this project that was different from other collaborations or guest albums is that I wrote the songs for each of the guests to play on. I hoped to open the door enough because of my intense familiarity with their styles. I’m so into their playing and that helped me as a songwriter to gear towards that. But at the same time, I hoped to keep my own foot in the home soil. And it was as much a tribute to them for me – that’s how I felt about it. That excited me as a songwriter. I was told I was in a lot of trouble, labels getting in the way. They said they wanted to do it and then the red tape; blah blah blah. But it went without a hitch. Everyone was so great about wanting to do this and as their performances came back, it was just so obvious. I was totally blown away by all the performances.
I like the first Clapton contribution, “When I Still Had You.” And as you had mentioned, it’s a lot like the current Clapton style. It’s amazing the way in which the two of you go back and forth. There’s quite a lot going on in there. The second one, the bluesy thing, is good too.
Yeah! I was thinking I’d go through it and maybe use one solo. But then I thought, “Man, I ain’t gonna deny the world any Eric Clapton solos,” so I kept it all on there. [laughs] I thought it would be cool to take a song that represented his pop era, in a way, but it would have a hook and then go from that into a kind of guitar jam. I tried to be adventurous with it.
 |
After sending the track, his was the first one to come back, in less than a month. I just love his playing – he’s just incredible. We’ve gotten to be friends over the years and we’re going to do some shows together. The great thing this did for me, I mean, it was so much fun. It pushed me because they all played so great. That’s what I like. And it’s good to get out of your comfort zone because you’ve got to get shook up, rattled and rolled. Reach down and bring up the magic. That’s what I always hope for.
The Vince Gill songs are excellent, too. He’s another great guitarist. Rockers don’t always realize the greatness of many of the present country pickers. When he took to the stage at the first Crossroads festival, he kind of blew everyone away.
Yeah, Knopfler and I were talking about that years ago. That guy [Gill] can play anything – any instrument he picks up. He’s an amazing musician and I wanted to hit on that on this album, but we ran out of time. I worked with both him and Dr. John in the studio for this album, but I think that’ll be my next project – guests on all instrumentals. We had an instrumental and he did a real fast chicken pickin’ kind of thing, complex chord changes and stuff, but we just ran out of time. I’ll look forward to getting into that with him. Vince is amazing.
What guitars were you using on From the Reach?
For this album, if you listen to it, I’m on the left and they’re on the right in the mix – for the most part. Another thing I wanted to stick with was to make it more thematic by using the Strats and my Dumble Overdrive Special. That was my main rig. I also used a Demeter on a couple of things – the Vince Gill track. I used the ‘69 Les Paul on the track with Robben, “Way Past Long,” to offset his humbucker. I went for more of a woman tone on the left and he’s got more edge on the right. I used some pedals on some things. I used the Keeley Compressor on a couple of things, the Demeter Compulator on “Uberesso.” I switched between a Demeter head and Dumble head on that song. I used a Zen Drive on “Uberesso.” For the most part, those are Vintage 30 speakers, an old Bandmaster cab and a double cab that Alexander built for me back in ‘95 on my amp. I also used this cool little combo, a little class A called the Goodsell. It’s brilliant. That’s what you hear in the riff on “Milky Way Home” in the verse. It’s real chimey and open-ended. I used various other Fenders for colors and such, but that’s typically what I used with mostly Lindy Fralin pickups.
Man, I’ve got to tell you. I don’t know if you’ve heard about this silent singlecoil backplate system that Lindy Fralin is using, from Suhr [the BPSSC System]. You’ve got to check this out! It’s the latest and greatest thing that has come along in a long time. The way it works it doesn’t alter your tone at all. It works with the two trempots that tap off of the leads for your ground. It’s a big, flat pickup that’s part of the backplate. It’s a larger plate and that’s part of the secret I think. It takes the hum way down to where it’s manageable. They say 85 percent; I don’t know, but it’s a huge difference. In a really noisy environment, you can open up and tweak those trempots back to find the sweet spot, no matter what kind of single-coils you’ve got. I really like Steve’s DiMarzio bridge pickups, the Virtual Vintage are good and I’ve used the DP181s for years – the Fast Track twin blade in the bridge. So I went back and forth with the single-coil, Lindy Fralin’s and then with some of Steve’s pickups.
 | |
|
There’s a bunch of things, but the one thing I’m going to miss the most is getting text messages from Eric Clapton. I’d be in a hamburger joint here at home, just getting ready to go to the studio and the thing starts vibrating. I look down at it and it says, “I just finished working on the track, and I’m feeling good about it.”
As it would progress, he’d give me these updates. I’d text him back asking him to sing harmony on “When I Still Had You.” He’d text me back, saying, “Well, I’ll try.” The next morning, he text messages me, saying, “Well, I did the harmony vocal. I think it sounds like crap, but you’re welcome to use it.” [laughs] I then called him up, knowing he was in the studio and he answered the phone laughing. I said, “Man, there’s no way that’s going to sound like crap.” He said, “Well, I just couldn’t phrase it the way you did” – being really critical of himself. But it sounded awesome, of course.
| Sonny’s Gearbox On the road and in the studio:
| |||||||||
Sonny Landreth
sonnylandreth.com
|
|
For fans of Gibson guitars, there are a few names in the company’s long history that are revered. The most obvious is Orville Gibson, the eccentric founder of the company, who, without any woodworking experience, designed and built some astonishing mandolins, guitars and lyre guitars around the end of the 19th century. There’s Lloyd Loar, who came to Gibson in the early 1920s with an engineering background and made some remarkable revisions to Gibson’s lines. In fact, Loar’s place in Gibson history is so significant that his signature in an instrument from his time period makes it worth tens of thousands of dollars more than the same instrument without his signature.
You’ve also likely heard of figures like Seth Lover, who invented the humbucking pickup in 1957, and Ted McCarty, whose direction in the early fifties led Gibson to its commercial pinnacle. And then there are the people who are known by a devoted minority who kept the Gibson name and reputation alive as the brand expanded and matured. James “Hutch” Hutchins was instrumental in keeping the sixties’ way of producing Gibson archtops alive in the seventies, eighties and nineties – his recent retirement has left a sizable void in Gibson’s archtop production world and has kept the fish in Lake Michigan trembling in fear.
Ren Ferguson falls into this latter category; while he keeps a low profile, he is primarily responsible for some of the most elaborate flattops to come out of Gibson’s Bozeman, Montana plant – officially titled “Gibson Guitar Montana Division” – and arguably for some of the most elaborate flattops in the world.
That may seem like hyperbole, but it’s not. Gibson dealer, Mike Fuller, of Fuller’s Vintage Guitar in Houston says of Ren, “He is simply one of the greatest luthiers of all time. His guitars will be sought after for a long time to come.” Likewise, Dick Boak of Martin Guitars in Nazareth, Pennsylvania, says of Ferguson, “Ren has been our friend for several decades and we have great respect for him as a luthier and as an individual. We have let him know on several occasions that there might be a position here for him, but he loves Montana too much to leave it.”
“I revere Ren as a superb craftsman,” says Mike McGuire, director of operations for Gibson’s Nashville plant. “Plus, he is just a great guy.” Comparisons between Ren Ferguson and Lloyd Loar are frequent and well deserved. Both Loar and Ferguson have taken big liberties with the design of Gibson instruments, and both men placed intense scrutiny on the physical structure of the instruments they revised. Loar changed the bracing inside the F-5 mandolin from a single cross brace in the round soundhole version to two vertical, parallel “tone bars” or braces in the the revised F-5.
Additionally, Loar changed the openings to F-holes on the F-5 mandolin, the K-5 mandocello, the H-5 mandola and the L-5 guitar. Ferguson, on the other hand, took LeRoy Parnell’s 1930s L-00 to a chiropractic office to have an X-ray taken of its bracings so he could understand just what made it so special of a guitar.
“I’m really flattered by the [Lloyd Loar] comparison,” says Ren. “Loar brought a engineering background to Gibson and I brought an experience background with me. We are both musicians, too.”
The praise for Ferguson’s work isn’t just limited to those within the guitar industry. Between 500 and 600 orders come into the Bozeman plant annually with a request for Ren’s signature on the label inside the soundhole. Ren is glad to oblige because his signature is now in such demand that it helps sell guitars from Gibson Montana. Perhaps modern day investors are speculating that the value of the Ren Ferguson period at Gibson Montana will equal or exceed the Lloyd Loar period of Gibson in the twenties, but what is certain is that guitar investors are betting on the future. In the years to come, the time to do the elaborate inlay Ren does, and the materials used for that inlay, will become more scarce. Solid abalone is hardly ever used anymore, so Ren’s involvement not withstanding, these “Master Museum” models, as Gibson calls them, will definitely appreciate in value for years to come.
The Beginnings
Ren was originally born Lawrence Ferguson on February 26, 1946, in Detroit, Michigan. As was family tradition on his father’s side, all first born males were to be named after their paternal grandfather – in this case, Ren’s grandfather, Lawrence. Not a big fan of the nickname “Larry,” Mrs. Ferguson intervened, instead giving him the nickname, “Ren,” after a favorite artist. “My mother, who had been an artist at Disney for a while, had a great admiration for an airbrush artist named Renwick,” he recalls.
Ren began his luthier career, as it were, in shop class at Westchester High School, in Westchester, California. By the early sixties Ren had a Harmony guitar and his brother had a banjo – both rather poor excuses for instruments. Ren decided he could make a banjo in shop class for his brother. “I had no idea how complicated instrument building was back then,” he says. “I soon found out how critical tolerances had to be for frets and bridges and the like.” Ren’s father had a furniture business with a spray booth in it, and he got to experiment with refinishing wood furniture that people would trade in – in addition to plenty of Nocasters and Telecasters. “I ruined a lot of potentially expensive guitars back then,” Ren recalls.
While arthritis in his left hand has made things more difficult, Ren continues to do much of the inlay work in Boseman.
Later in high school he took a job selling guitars at a local music store, Westchester Music, which is now part of the runway at LAX airport. Westchester Music was a big store with a large record department in those days; they offered lessons on piano, organ, guitar and most any other band instrument. The store had a large rental department, and Ren was kept busy. “I learned a lot about what it takes to keep band instruments in service,” he explains. “The airport would break about one guitar a day, and they would ask us to replace the instrument or repair it. Often the passenger would sell me his broken guitar or even give it to me after being reimbursed by the airport for the damage – I had a big stack of guitars from airport passengers. Back in those days it was easy enough to get a brace from Martin or a neck from Gibson.” Ren cut his luthier teeth learning how to rebuild these broken guitars before taking a brief hiatus from Westchester to sell Dobros for the Dopera family. “I would hustle Dobros on the street, in clubs or wherever there were musicians I could demo the instrument to. I even designed a thin profile Dobro we called the ‘Californian,’ which was going into production about the time that the company was bought up by Mosrite and Buck Owens and ultimately moved to Bakersfield,” he says. Eventually he set up classes teaching guitar and mandolin building in California before being drafted. While in the Navy he met two brothers, the Millers, who kept telling him how beautiful Montana was; soon after his discharge from the Navy in February of 1969, he traveled to Montana for his first Mountain Man Rendezvous, an event where men cavort as rugged outdoorsmen from days gone by.
“I still wonder what would have happened to me financially if I had stayed in California and built guitars, instead of coming up here to Montana to eat dirt and chew grass,” he says. Ren wonders if he would have had Bob Taylor’s place in history as the premier California guitar maker.
Montana and Mandolins
Ren eventually moved to the Bozeman area in the mid-seventies to make gunstocks for Shiloh Sharps and to do some trapping. He was playing music in a church band and was at his minister’s house when he got a call from Steve Carlson, the owner of the Flatiron Mandolin Company. Steve had already decided he wanted to hire him. Ren explained that he was pretty busy with other things when Steve said, “I’ll pay you $1800 a month,” to which Ren replied, “I’ll see you in the morning.” The Flatiron Mandolin Company made very good mandolins – as good or better mandolins than Gibson’s, in fact. The main difference between the two resided in the neck joints. While traditional Gibson mandolin neck joints had been dovetails, Flatiron changed them to a mortise and tennon neck joint, partly because of the ease of construction and partly because they had had success with the joint in other applications. They eventually got so good at making mandolins that they had more than they could sell. “We were completing about 12 instruments a week,” Ren recalls. Flatiron was also making a handful of banjos and bouzoukis, and was a fairly popular brand among knowledgeable players when Ren joined the company.
 | |
|
The next morning, as Juszkiewicz toured the NAMM floor, he came upon Steve Carlson and the Flatiron Mandolin Company. Carlson handed Henry a brochure, when Henry informed him that he was working on behalf of the “new Gibson,” and that as CEO of the new company, he was being put in the unenviable position of being forced to protect the company’s designs. Carlson retrieved the brochure from Henry’s hands and said, “I guess you have to do that,” before walking away.
Three months after that fateful meeting, Carlson finally received a cease and desist order from Gibson’s lawyers, claiming that Flatiron had compromised the “silhouette” of the company’s F-5 mandolin. It was a stunning blow to the company; crippled by not being able to make F-5 mandolins, Flatiron quickly found itself in financial trouble.
Mandolin Brothers, located in Staten Island, New York and founded in 1971 by Stanley Jay and Hap Kuffner, was at that time beginning to deal in new mandolins and had been one of the first vintage instrument dealers to hang out a shingle, perhaps second only to George Gruhn in Nashville. Having been a Flatiron Mandolin dealer for ten years before Gibson’s cease and desist order, Jay became concerned about the future of the small company. At the following NAMM show in 1987, Carlson ran into Jay and they began talking about the situation. Carlson said, “What sense does it make for [Henry] to spend all that money on lawyers to try and put us out of business? He could buy our company for less than he would spend on legal fees.”
 | |
|
Shortly after the acquisition of Flatiron, it was decided to move the acoustic production off the floor of the Nashville plant to facilitate Les Paul production. The machinery that was left from flattop production was shipped on semi trucks to the plant at Bozeman. There were only a few usable machines from Gibson Nashville; needing more resources, Carlson bought two flatbed trailers full of tennis racket making machines in Colorado for the paltry sum of $3200. “We basically melted down the aluminum and made a side bending machine from the tennis racket machines,” Ren says. Over time, Carlson was put in charge of building a new facility and Ren took over making fixtures and jigs to facilitate guitar making.
Early in Ren’s building career, he possessed a romantic idea about the guitars he and the Bozeman plant make. He believed there were “unwritten songs” inside each and every guitar.
The Mindset
Early in Ren’s building career, he possessed a romantic idea about the guitars he and the Bozeman plant make. He believed there were “unwritten songs” inside each and every guitar, whether it ended up with a teenage girl playing only for her cat, or in the hands of Emmylou Harris, playing in front of thousands nightly.
New ownership meant new changes. One of the most difficult mindsets for Ren to adopt came from a meeting with Henry. Henry told Ren, “Don’t over-romanticize the making of these guitars – they are just boxes, for crying out loud.” Ren took Henry’s words to heart and over a period of time finally understood that even if they were making apple crates, they needed to make the best, most durable apple crates they could. They also had to be made with the least amount of materials, in the quickest way possible and in a way that makes a profit for the company. Ren admits that this was eventually an epiphany for him. “Henry wants us to make the best sounding guitars that never come back,” he says. “We are all just sharecroppers of the Gibson tradition. We get to get up in the morning and come make the best guitars in the world.” And it seems that every employee in the Montana plant feels that same duty; when visitors tour the Bozeman plant they are frequently impressed at how “heads down” the entire staff is. They are focused on making guitars; their collective attention to detail and dedication might be compared to a colony of bees. “No one is lounging about here,” Ren says.
That dedication and singular focus has paid off. There are numerous buyers around the globe who are waiting in the wings for Ren Ferguson’s next “Master Museum” guitar, and they are willing to pay upwards of $50,000 just to own one. “They don’t sound any better than the standard J-200s,” Ren surmises, “but they sure don’t sound any worse.” When asked about how he felt the high prices his creations were fetching he replied, “They are a stone bargain. What if you paid a master plumber for the 200 hours of work he had done on your house?”
 | |
|
He recalls the intense labor he put into the “Pirates of the Caribbean” J-200, which was built for Johnny Depp in honor of the movie, which Ren admits he was slightly obsessed with. That obsession came about from a line in the movie, where Depp is marooned on an island and begins reminiscing about his ship. Depp says, “A ship is more than a keel, a hull, a deck and sails – what it is is freedom.” The line struck a chord with Ferguson, who believes that a guitar is more than just spruce, mahogany and some lacquer; it is also freedom.
Ren’s son, Matt, played a band with some folks from Disney and began talking about the guitar his dad was designing – this led to visits to the set of the movie for Ren. Photos of Depp on the fantail of the ship were supplied by Disney and were eventually carved into the guitar’s ebony bridge. Coins were procured for the fret inlays. The guitar was made from close-grained spruce and quilted maple and finished in a shade of purple that was transparent, but had veils of opacity as well. The finished guitar was purchased by Disney for an undisclosed sum – it is reportedly valued at $100,000.
Most of the “Master Museum” collection – his most valuable and collectible creations – is comprised of J-200 body styles. It’s a model that has had a special place in Ferguson’s heart for a number of years, since he ordered a Gibson J-200 from the music store he worked at in Westchester, California. “It didn’t come in for over a year,” he recalls. “I ordered a sunburst and the guitar came in pasty white.”
The Plant
 Ren Talks Wood We asked Ren about the woods he prefers building guitars with; he told us his ear prefers the sound of red spruce and Brazillian rosewood. However, considering there will be no more Brazillian rosewood guitars coming out of Gibson, due to the company’s new focus on preserving endangered woods, he has been forced to develop some good-sounding alternatives. We asked Ren to tell us how he approaches three of the most popular types of woods, and what he typically hears in guitars built with them. Mahogany “It’s friendly – it holds on to the chorus notes really well and gives you this back-filled sound. If you pick with your fingers, you can get great clarity. Ragtime and blues can be played on mahogany and sound perfect.” Rosewood “It seems to sound a little bit darker. Rosewood is harder to set in motion – the reflective sound and energy required to set it in motion are a little more substantial. Rosewood has a richer tone than mahogany, a more enduring sustain and a sweetness, but perhaps not excitement of a mahogany instrument.” Maple “Maple is clean and clear and holds the midrange incredibly well. It projects really well. Maple may not have the sustain of rosewood or the “party” sound of mahogany, but maple may project more or seem louder than any of the other woods. Eastern U.S. maple tends to be a bit denser or harder than its western counterpart; quilted maple is the softest of the lot. You will get more punch from the eastern flame woods, but more warmth from the western variety.” |
The Bozeman factory is located on a street conspicuously named Orville Way, and is nestled in a pristine valley situated between the Gallatin Range and the Bridger Range, named after mountain man, Jim Bridger. Bozeman is a relatively small town of approximately 30,000 inhabitants. According to Cindy Andrus of the Bozeman Convention and Visitors Bureau, “Bozeman is not easy to describe to someone who has never been here before. It is one of the most diverse small towns in the Western Rockies. It is blessed with an eclectic mix of ranchers, artists, professors, ski enthusiasts and entrepreneurs, all of whom are drawn here by world class recreation, Montana University and a slice of old fashioned Americana. There are hundreds of scenic vistas nearby and Bozeman is a mere 90 miles from Yellowstone; all in all, the area lures visitors from around the world.”
It’s definitely an environment that inspires creativity. Many, if not all, of the new models coming out of the Bozeman plant are Ren’s designs, including the Songwriter series, the Doves in Flight, the J-2000 and the Monarch; they all have their beginnings in his imagination. There’s really no limit to the lengths Ren will go to develop the perfect design. He went as far as packing several models of Gibsons, Martins and Taylors full with wheat to measure the volume of each instrument and to determine the best “recipe” for the production of each of the limited vintage reproduction Gibsons he was making. In his quest for the best sound he has determined that all Gibson flattops have had an inherent 28-foot radius, or parabolic convex shape, incorporated into the top. This keeps the pent-up energy countersprung so when the strings are plucked the sound is immediate and forceful.
When asked how he gets his ideas and inspiration for his gorgeous inlay work, he responds, “I am a great thief!” Having gotten ideas from coffee cups, wallpaper and clouds in the sky, he steals them all. He has always seen things that others have missed. He recalls waiting in the doctor’s office and seeing patterns in the linoleum, in the carpeting. As a kid he was always whittling a neckerchief slide or making a Jiminy Cricket out of oldstyle clothespins. “I have always seen things that weren’t there to be seen,” Ren says.
Although he does enjoy making fine, high-end instruments like the "Pirates of the Caribbean" guitar, he says his favorite guitar is the next one he is getting ready to build.
As time has passed, Henry Juszkiewicz has realized what a golden goose he has in Ferguson. Having consistently made good products out of something as variable as wood, Ren has been given the unprecedented opportunity to remake any and all models of the acoustic guitars produced at the Bozeman plant. A recent production of Hummingbirds made with fine quilted maple is just one example of the freedom afforded to Ren. When Gibson is considering a reissue, they will get numerous examples of a certain guitar and compare them extensively; they will then pick the instrument that has the best tone, feel or “mojo” of all the examples.
 | |
|
The research has not simply revolved around finding ways to efficiently recreate Gibson’s past classics; the Bozeman crew is busy finding new ways to advance the acoustic. For instance, Gibson Montana has refined the tops on its new instruments with a counter tension to the strings – “pent up” tension, as Ren calls it – so when a note is struck, the top immediately comes alive. It’s not like bumping a table and having a book fall off the other end; it’s like bumping a table and having the book shoot off the other end. “I don’t have time to wait around for my guitars to sound good,” Ren states rather pragmatically.
When asked if he would prefer more or less automation in guitar building, Ren’s response was somewhat surprising – although not as much if you recall his epiphany from Henry. He would prefer to see more automation as long as the final product is unaffected. “If I can prevent my workers from getting a repetative injury from sanding wood all day long, then you bet I am for the automation,” he says. The plant has already automated some tasks that were considered hazardous or “life-threatening.”
The Future
You would think that Ren would be salivating over the opportunity to do some fancy inlay or carving at this point in his career – his skills have developed so impressively, and his work is commanding such a premium, that it would seem silly not to. Surprisingly enough, Ren says that while he enjoys inlay work – something he says he “has to do,” like an artistic compulsion – but he is more thrilled by the overall production of instruments. Although he does enjoy making fine, high-end instruments like the “Pirates of the Caribbean” guitar, he says his favorite guitar is the next one he is getting ready to build. He has no puffed up ego, no self-serving idea about his well earned reputation – he is, in fact, the ultimate team player. If you know any extraordinary plumbers, you know that at the end of the day they still have to clean their fingernails themselves; it is refreshing to know an extraordinary luthier with the similar attitude.
“We want each guitar to have that Gibson sound, that Gibson look and that Gibson feel. When the customer gets all of those at the initial purchase then we have done what we need to for Henry,” Ren says enthusiastically, using Henry’s name as shorthand for the corporation as a whole. So while he is without doubt a soldier marching to his own beat, he is keeping pace with the rest of the troops and very much moving to the same music, in the same direction, as the rest of his coworkers. He describes his co-workers like, “a bunch of star children in the olympics.”
How do you describe this symbiotic relationship between the Boseman plant and the whole of Gibson, between Ren and his crew? The best way is through history; had Louis Comfort Tiffany not had a large factory, we likely wouldn’t revere the name Tiffany as we do today. Had Stradivarius not lived to the ripe old age of 90 and had many sons and grandchildren building wonderful violins, chances are we wouldn’t have heard of him either. In short, an “arteest” will ultimately be dependent on a financially successful partnership to flourish and achieve the prominence in the marketplace they deserve. That’s not to say that Ren Ferguson would not be still making the fabulous guitars if he was working under his own name, but now they are museum-quality Gibsons.
 | |
|
We may deduce that, at 62 years old, Ren’s clock is running, that there are a finite amount of Ferguson Gibsons to yet be had. By tenure alone, the Ren period at Gibson has already exceeded the Loar period. Fortunately, he remains dedicated as ever to his craft. While a touch of arthritis in his left hand has made some of his work more difficult, he continues to do most of his pearl cutting with a jewler’s saw by hand and without the aid of glasses (although he admits to needing a jeweler’s loupe for the engraving of pearl).
He’s also staying abreast of developments in luthiery and in building materials. Although he likes real abalone and mother-of-pearl for his inlays, he admits to having a fondness for abalam, a relatively new product that is essentially slivers of abalone layered in an epoxy-like resin and made into large sheets of material. However he doesn’t use abalam on the guitars that are in the Master Museum line or on any custom guitars that are made at Bozeman. “I can’t engrave abalam with any consistency. There are machines that can engrave it, but the texture is too irregular for me to do it by hand.” Ren doesn’t use a Dremel tool for inlay, but instead uses a Pencil Dye Grinder that is air driven and spins so fast that is has virtually no vibration. Ren has passed the guitar lifestyle down to his sons as well. His older son, Matthew, works for Gibson artist relations in California; his middle son, Tim, has shown a gift for doing inlay like his father, and is currently doing inlay for Gibson under Ren’s guidance. And although making guitars is largely an indoor activity, Ren’s soul longs for the skies, seas and mountains. Ren always wanted to be outside as a kid; he even made his own surfboards as a young man. He still considers himself an “outdoors man.” As a hobby, Ren raises pigeons and begrudges having to tote them water at “dark-thirty” in the morning, as he calls it.
When asked if he would like to retire, he admits he would like to drink a glass of orange juice off his front porch on the ocean and go out on his surfboard at morning’s first whisper, but he feels it may never be in the cards. So hopefully there will yet be a few more Master Museum guitars in the near future, and perhaps a few hundred more Gibson labels to be signed.
John Southern
Southern is a musician, songwriter, photographer, and guitar builder from Tulsa, Oklahoma. He is beginning a new TV Show called “Talkin’ Guitars.” He can be reached at johnsguitarshop@aol.com.
|
Photography by Doreen Iafrate
It’s a small circle of elite builders, luthiers who, in the modern era, have established their names in the annals of guitar building. Names like Buscarino, Monteleone, Sadowski, Benedetto. Add to that list the name Mark Campellone and the fellowship grows in stature. Over the past thirty years, Mark has carved out a place for himself in guitar history as a builder of fine archtop guitars, and has become a well-known name, especially among jazz guitarists and those who trade in the vintage guitar market.
As is true of any modern heavyweight in the building game, those who are successful have been able to craft the finest instruments while at the same time put their unique artistic stamp on each work. Mark’s instruments, while relying on the style and tradition of earlier Gibson archtops, incorporate a well thought out artistic design that spans tailpiece to tuners. A blend of traditional hand-craftsmanship and modern technology, Mark’s guitars – at least for the moment – may be the last of affordable, high-end, handmade acoustic instruments. The following conversation with Mark offers unique insight into how he thinks and feels about his development, the design of his instruments, the current market and his vision for the future.
You’re going to have to educate us a little bit about this business. How do you see your type of business in the guitar market? How do you define what you do – a “small builder” or a “boutique builder?”
[laughs] Micro-manufacturing. I’m not really sure what “boutique” means. There are guys making boutique amplifiers, but they’re not really “custom made,” in that they’re not making a different amp for every customer. There are a lot of guys that do what I do – small independent builders and one-man shops that build whatever a customer wants. Some of them have a loose model structure, but a lot of them will build whatever guitar a customer wants, customizing it in any way.
I used to do that, but since work has backed up, I have kind of gone in the other direction, basically doing what manufacturers do, offering three strictly delineated models. I offer some customization in terms of dimensions, but basically I have been trying to make the building process as efficient as I can to try and get guitars out on time. I kind of shy away from custom work now, so I’m not building a different guitar for every customer. In that sense [my process] is very much like manufacturing, but on the other hand, since I control every operation, the quality and the attention to detail are always there.
There seems to be a new interest in small builders. If you look through this magazine, for example, they often spotlight a lot of these builders. It seems that many new ones have emerged in the last few years.
[laughs] Tell me about it!
Why is that?
I guess it started as far back as the seventies, when some of the manufacturers were dealing with huge demands for guitars and began spitting them out of the factory as fast as they could – Gibson and Fender were cranking out some really crappy stuff. Around the same time Ibanez came out making Gibson copies that were better than Gibson originals at that time, and that kind of got people interested in looking elsewhere for quality instruments. I also think that as music got more sophisticated and the demands on the instruments became a little more sharply defined, customers became more educated and started looking for higher quality instruments. Because of the drop in quality of the manufactured stuff, a lot of them became willing to look elsewhere for something of higher quality.
I was aware that the decline in quality from both Fender and Gibson in the seventies really inspired people to go back and buy older vintage instruments, but I had not thought about how that period of time also inspired small builders to emerge.I’m not so sure why it happened with flattops, because Martin has always maintained really good quality, but the number of independent flattop builders out there now is huge! And with archtops, as people were looking for higher quality archtops and turning to vintage pieces, the cost of vintage pieces got so high that a builder like myself could build and offer a new guitar at a lower price than you could get a vintage piece for.
And with the same quality as the older stuff.
Yeah, and Gibson wasn’t making a lot of archtops during the seventies and eighties – they weren’t so much a part of their regular production. But, just as a disclaimer, I’m a big Gibson fan and I’m glad to see that they got back up to speed. Obviously my designs are Gibson inspired, and I really like their stuff.
It goes way back to when I first started playing guitar. I got my first good guitar, which was a Gibson, at age 12. I had a hint even then that I liked the guitar itself as much, or more, than I actually liked the music. This became more evident later on as I went in the direction of having a performance career; I dropped out of it because the lifestyle wasn’t for me. I got into building, so I guess I was more excited about the instrument itself than I was about the music.
As a kid I had a couple Gibson catalogs. I used to look at the pictures and thought the L-5 and the Super 400 were so cool! And then when I was 14, I was in a band and there was a girl that was friendly with one of the guys in the band, and she had an uncle who had a late-fifties Super 400 with two P-90s, and he gave it to her to play! She used to let me take that guitar on gigs. There I was at 14, playing Steppenwolf on a late-fifties Super 400 CES – not appropriate at all, but I didn’t know, I just thought it was a really cool guitar! That guitar made a big impression on me.
You said that at one point you were considering the path of a professional musician. Did you go to college?
I went to Berklee for a couple semesters, but after two semesters there, I kind of started to run out of steam for it; there weren’t many more courses that I wanted to take. I thought if I really wanted to learn how to play the best thing to do was to just get out and play – that kind of stuff. That led me to leave the school and try playing for a living.
But I think, subconsciously, what was really at work was that the whole lifestyle just wasn’t for me. I thought I wanted to be a musician so bad. It was like this big, cathartic thing one day – I just came to the revelation that it just didn’t work for me. Whatever it is that makes musicians so devoted to trying to play music for other people, I just didn’t have it. I didn’t have that kind of relationship with music. I like music and I have musical talent, but I don’t feel compelled to share it with the public, and certainly not at the cost that most musicians pay to do that. Plus, I was interested in guitars and woodworking. It was something I could do during the day and have a relatively normal schedule. Once I started getting into that I felt more like, “This is me, this is what I should be doing.”
When did you build your first guitar?
I started out building solidbody electric instruments, which came about because I had picked up the bass. I grew up playing guitar but I picked up the electric bass and was playing in a rock band. I was playing an imported student bass that I bought from a friend of mine for 50 cents, although I thought that I should get a better bass because this one was kind of junky. I started looking around, and being a guitar player, the Fender basses were just too bulky and Gibson basses of that era didn’t sound very good. I really couldn’t find anything I liked, so I thought, “let me try building a bass.” I built my first electric bass in 1977, and it was technically the first instrument that had my name on it.
I got off to a very slow start with the archtop stuff. I initially went to this local music store because I was looking for a five-string banjo – I had picked that up and was having some fun with it. This store had a lot of repair work and when the owner found out that I had built some electric guitars he asked me if I wanted to do some repair work, so that’s how that started. I started working on archtop guitars, which again raised my interest level. The owner had an archtop in there built by a guy by the name of Glen Markel who used to work at Guild in Westerly. I had thought about building one, but I didn’t have the tools and I didn’t know anything about it. But I figured if Glen could do it I could do it! Glen loaned me some of his carving tools and I started putting my first archtop together, which was around 1988.
A lot of the designs [on my instruments], like those fingerboard inlays, I’ve taken directly from architecture on local buildings. Both the five-piece and the three-piece keystone inlays are designs that I have seen over windows on concrete buildings.
I had built half a dozen or so archtops by 1991 and I went to display them for the first time at a symposium in Pennsylvania. From around 1990-91, I started to get serious about working full time, trying to build archtop guitars, and my production started to increase. I was still building some solidbody instruments, but then I did the Classic American Guitar Show in Long Island in ‘93 – the first year they held the show – and that was my first really good commercial exposure. That pushed me further into the direction of doing the archtop thing.
How many archtops have you made since then?
The last one from this batch was number 339.
How do you think your guitars compare with Gibson’s quality these days?
Well, they’re at least as good, if not better! Like I said, I’m a Gibson fan and I haven’t seen a lot of new Gibson stuff, but inevitably with factory instruments, there’s always something about it that says, “I came from a factory.” [laughs]
The joinery and the binding, that’s where I tend to see it most...
Yeah, the little things. I’ve got a couple of Heritage archtops that are really, really nice, but on most of them there’s always some little thing that says, “someone really wasn’t paying attention when they did this.” But as far as the quality of those instruments overall, if you buy a Gibson it’s a good quality instrument – it’s not going to fall apart. You’re probably not going to have any serious problems with it, the build quality is good, but it’s just in some of those details. I still own some Gibson guitars that are really nice.
Why should someone consider buying a Campellone rather than a Gibson?
If it were up to me, I would just as soon buy a Gibson as one of mine, if it was a nice one. But why would other people consider me over that? I think a lot of people just like the idea of a guitar that’s built by one person.
Is it because it is more handmade?
Believe me, I use as many tools as I can – the less handwork I have to do, the better. I gladly accept the help that power tools can offer. But the thing is, it’s one guy building a guitar from start to finish, which a lot of people like the idea of. They figure the quality and the attention to detail are going to be better, so I think that’s why a lot of people would choose to buy one of my guitars over a factory-made instrument.
Why they would choose my guitar over an instrument made by another builder? There are a lot of reasons for that. It could range anywhere from the price and style to personality. One of the things that I think is unique in terms of the appeal of my instruments is that they look like old guitars. A lot of builders now are doing stuff that looks more contemporary, kind of picking up where D’Aquisto left off. They are experimenting with different woods, different sound holes, all that kind of stuff, and that’s ok. It’s a different look with no plastic binding, no inlay; it’s a minimalist kind of thing. I’ve seen some of those instruments and they’re very nice instruments – they have a good volume level, a good balance and all the things that make a guitar good – but they don’t really sound like a forties L-7.
Do you feel like yours recapture that?
Yeah, that’s my goal actually. I like to build what I like, and I like those old guitars, so when I started building that was the vibe I was going for. So I think maybe that’s the main thing that distinguishes my work from that of other builders.
You are very rooted in a traditional style and there are many Art Deco points on your instruments.
Yeah, D’Angelico really kind of crystallized that. As for the Gibson stuff, I don’t think they were necessarily going for the art deco look, although that’s kind of how it came out. But when D’Angelico started building, you could tell a lot of his designs were screaming art deco. And that got me thinking along those lines.
A lot of the designs [on my instruments], like those fingerboard inlays, I’ve taken directly from architecture on local buildings. Both the fivepiece and the three-piece keystone inlays are designs that I have seen over windows on concrete buildings. The design for my stepped tailpiece was inspired by a door handle plate in my aunt’s apartment building.
That reminds me of some of the antique stores I have been in that carry nothing but hardware from the houses built between 1920 and 1940. Every piece – the plumbing fixtures, the registers, window hardware – everything has little artistic design elements like this. The craftsmanship is amazing.I did a lot of artwork when I was a kid and I have a really strong art background. So when I came up with the designs for the decorative appointments I really tried to make everything work together, like a motif and development kind of thing. You see the same theme repeated in a lot of places on the guitar: stepped tailpiece, stepped fingerboard inlays, stepped truss rod cover, peghead inlay. To me, that’s just a good design and it gives things an overall kind of homogeneous look. And even though the guitar is pretty highly adorned, it doesn’t look gaudy.
Some people don’t have that artistic sense. They’ll stick this here, and they like this other design so they’ll overuse that for some other part of the guitar, and the parts don’t work together. It’s like wearing a striped shirt, a polka dot tie and checkered pants. The fact that I have spent quite a bit of time making sure all of the design elements work together I think gives the guitars their overall pleasing effect, visually.
The craftsmanship, the attention to detail and the consistency really separate your guitars from other archtops. For example, I’ve sold a lot of the new Gibsons lately and some of them are much nicer than other ones, especially with respect to how straight the neck is. Some of them you cannot get the neck to lay flat straight. How do you accomplish that?
I think Gibson is still using the old, bent, single type of truss rod. I made a choice to go with another type of rod a while back. Because the [new] rod basically works as a compression-type of rod, it works with the wood and neck to move it. Any inconsistencies in the neck will come out in the action of the rod. It’s an upside-down U-channel, open along the bottom with a rod in the middle of it. As you tighten up the nut – because there is less material under the rod than there is over it – the U-channel will make a nice, smooth arc. This works independently of the neck, and your chances are better for getting a smooth arc with this type of rod.
I think Martin is using this type of rod now; it’s actually not that new of a style – it has been around for a while. It’s the one choice I made that I think helps my guitars end up with a good neck.
I once had an archtop that, when you looked down the neck from the headstock, you could tell the headstock was twisted, and as you sighted down the neck, gradually the neck straightened out. Have you ever had a problem ending up with something like that?
I’ve seen that before and a lot of times it doesn’t affect the way they play. Some of them play fine. In fact, somebody actually produced a design where the whole neck was radically twisted to accommodate the position that your hand is naturally in as you go up and down the neck. Toward the nut it was angled a certain way and as it came up to the body the neck was more parallel. I can’t imagine how they did that! But a guitar with a headstock twist can actually play fine as long as the frets under each string form a straight line under that string.
A good guitar sounds good right away. But it will change as it’s played and as the lacquer dries out. I’ve had guitars come back after a couple years that I think have really opened up. You get some noticeable degree of improvement even within that short period of time.
I’ve never had an extreme problem like that with any of my guitars. When I make neck blanks I cut a bunch of blanks up, store them on the shelf for a while and let them do whatever they’re going to do. I have seen some develop a slight twist during that period. Before I use any blank I resurface it, so by that time hopefully it has done whatever movement it’s going to do.
How long do you store them?
Most blanks sit up there for a year or two before I use them. Even if I do glue up new blanks to use, they hang for a couple of months while I’m doing the bodies. So at minimum they’re going to sit around for a couple months and do whatever they do; when I’m ready to start the necks, it’s a couple months into the building process, so they get resurfaced again at that point. And I imagine they’re pretty stable by that point, because I’ve never had any problems with them.
Is the wood that you get already aged?
Yes, 90 percent of it. Rarely will you get wood from an instrument supplier that’s not dried enough – if they are a reputable supplier they’ll always tell you if it’s not dry. Most of the wood I get for neck stock is just from lumber suppliers – construction grade lumber – and most of that stuff is kiln dried.
You mentioned that you often go after a forties or fifties L-7 type of sound. Can a guitar be built with that sound from day one, or is that something that can only be acquired over 40 or 50 years? Does the guitar really change that much over that period of time?
The sound of the guitar changes dramatically within the first day or two when it’s strung up. That’s the initial settling in period when everything tightens up under string tension. Good guitars – you know they’re good at that point, within the first day or so. A good guitar sounds good right away. But it will change as it’s played and as the lacquer dries out. I’ve had guitars come back after a couple years that I think have really opened up. You get some noticeable degree of improvement even within that short period of time. But if you happen to build a guitar that’s a real dog – if it’s a dog when it’s new, it’s going to be an old dog when it’s old [laughs].
Some builders just use pre-manufactured parts added on to their wood. It seems like you have really put a lot of thought into the geometry of your pickguard, the unique design of your bridge and the tailpiece – these parts are distinctly Campellone.
The pickguard is a similar silhouette to a Gibson pickguard – I just made it a little smaller and a little less rounded. The tailpiece is really considered a decorative feature, like some of the other parts of the guitar. When I started building you couldn’t buy anything except a 335-type trapeze tailpiece, and I used that on a couple of my first guitars because that was all that was available. If you wanted to use something different, you had to make something, and I was thinking, “the tailpiece is a design feature which should match the rest of the design features of the guitar.” I’m a wood worker, not a metal worker, although I used to make my own bridges out of brass when I was building solidbody instruments. So I have some metal work experience but not a lot of mill working tools. I had to come up with a design that was original, matched the other design features and still had a classic look. I spent a lot of time drawing tailpiece designs and finally refined it over the course of a couple years to the design that I have now.
So you’re only going to see this tailpiece on your guitars.
I hope so, because I’m having them made. Enough people have seen this on my guitar that they know it’s my design. The tailpiece is made out of brass stock, so I buy a 3’x8’ sheet of brass from a metal supplier; I take it to the sheet metal guys and have blanks cut – you can get two or three tailpieces out of every blank. They cut these squared blanks, and they go to another machinist who has a wire EDM – electrical discharge machine – which is basically a machine that cuts with a high voltage electronic pulse through a very thin wire. The blanks are stacked one on top of the other and then they are all cut in a stack on this machine where they are placed in a tub of water – they have to be submerged for the electricity to work. The tub of water moves on an X/Y axis and that’s how the shapes are cut. At this point, they’re still flat, so they have to go back to the sheet metal guys and have bends put in – the hook that holds the strings and the bend where the tailpiece fits to the rim. From there they go to the plater/polisher.
Are they nickel plated, then gold plated?
Yes, nickel then gold.
That’s the old Gibson way.
Yep. Then they go to a local craftsman and have the ebony appliqués made. A few guitars have been ordered with some abalone work inlaid in the appliqué, but that’s a custom feature. So it’s the metal supplier, the sheet metal guy, the machinist, the plater and the craftsman – five people are involved in the making of a tailpiece!
To Tap or Not to Tap We asked Mark if he tap tunes his tops, and if he believes that it can produce a better guitar. He explains how tap tuning fits into his philosophy of building. The big question is, do any two people really have the same definition of tap tuning? When I started building, archtop construction was just as much of a mystery to me as it was to anyone else. I was struggling to find out what tap tuning meant – there are some people who go with the definition that it means tuning the plates to a particular pitch and I’ve heard some people say, “tune the top to one pitch and the back to a certain interval away from that pitch.” I threw all that stuff out the window. I have owned a lot of good archtop guitars, and at that time I was madly pursuing any information about how you make a guitar sound good. At one time I owned 12 or 15 great sounding, vintage Gibson archtops – L-5s and L-7s – and I used to study them. No two sounded alike and no two were built the same. What I initially realized was that there is no one right way to build a good-sounding guitar. These guitars were all wildly different, in terms of their construction. Some of them were parallel braced, some of them were X-braced, some of them had really thick tops and some of them had thin tops, but they all sounded great. So, I abandoned the idea of tap tuning to a particular pitch – however, I do tap. If you have two raw plates carved to the same dimensions, and you tap each of them, they’ll produce a pitch. The one that produces the higher pitch is the stiffer piece of wood, so I use that as a kind of measuring stick of the wood’s stiffness. The higher the pitch it produces, the stiffer it is. The stiffer it is, the thinner you can carve it – I’m just carving to a point of getting the top loose enough to respond. There’s a point of diminishing returns; if you carve it too thin, it won’t have enough wood to generate any kind of powerful sound. You need a certain amount of heaviness to it to get the power, but you want it to be loose enough to respond. If the top produces a fairly low pitch and it isn’t stiff, you’re going to want to leave it a little heavier to retain enough stiffness so it doesn’t get too boomy, too bassy. I use the tap/pitch technique to assess how stiff a piece of wood is and, using that assessment, to determine how thin I should make the top. |
One reason a lot of guys use actual wooden tailpieces is because, like myself, they’re not metal workers. So if you want an original metal tailpiece – where do you go? How do you do it?
It’s a complicated process.
Yes. I was fortunate that I knew the sheet metal guys – there used to be a big jewelry industry in Rhode Island and there are still a few plating houses around. But a lot of guys are using the wooden tailpieces, and it’s kind of trendy now to use a wooden one.
How does an all-wood tailpiece affect the tone of the guitar?
I don’t know. Obviously I am not a wooden tailpiece guy. Initially it kind of made sense to me, but I have to disagree with some of the experts on this. I don’t think it necessarily improves the tone of the guitar. I’ve heard many wooden tailpieces that vibrate in an undesirable way. The big thing for me was that I wanted to do stuff that looked traditional and I liked Gibson stuff because they all had metal tailpieces; I played too many old Gibsons with metal tailpieces where I thought, “there’s no way you could improve the sound of this guitar – it sounds great. What’s a wooden tailpiece going to do for this?”
Maybe it’s the brass?
I don’t know. Sometimes you do get a little bit of a metal harmonic or overtone, but I don’t find that objectionable! A great L-7 does the same thing and you don’t have a problem with that. To my ears, I don’t think a wooden tailpiece is necessarily a design improvement. The whole idea with a lot of the contemporary stuff is borrowing [from violin design]. Archtop guitar design is based on violin family instruments. And while they did borrow many design features from the violin family, that doesn’t mean that all the violin features apply to the guitar, because it’s a whole different instrument. It’s plucked instead of bowed, so there are some violin features that would actually be a detriment if applied to the guitar design.
Your three models span what price range?
The base prices are $4000, $5500 and $7000. It’s about a separation of $1500 between models.
Has the recession slowed you down at all? Are you concerned about that?
That’s maybe way out there on my radar screen. If I was dependent on a local economy I would be concerned, but my business is nationwide and worldwide. If the whole national economy tanks then the first thing that happens is people cut back on luxury items, but somewhere in the U.S. or the world there will always be people that have money to spend on luxury items! My guitars are still relatively affordable for the average person.
It seems to take a guitar about 30 years to take on the mantle of “vintage.” Where do you think your guitars will be in 30 years, as far as how collectors will look at them? And where will you be 30 years from now?
I’ll be 83! I’m not good with leisure time. I always feel like I have to be productive. So I imagine I’ll probably build as long as I’m able, although maybe not at the level I am building at now. I’m going to want to keep busy. I’d like to think that my guitars will acquire vintage status. Of course, as soon as I croak the more expensive they get! [laughs] I’m pretty confident they’ll attain a fairly noble status after I’m gone – why not? Especially since I won’t be making them any more!
Campellone Guitars
campelloneguitars.com