This wonky Zim-Gar was one of many guitars sold by importer Gar-Zim Musical Instruments, operated by Larry Zimmerman and his wife.
The 1960s were strange days indeed for import guitars, like this cleaver-friendly Zim-Gar electric.
Recently I started sharing my work office with a true gem of a guy … one of the nicest fellas I’ve ever come across. If you’ve been following my column here, you might remember my other work mate Dylan, who is always telling me about new, fad-type things (like hot Honey guitars) and trying to convince me to use AI more. (What can I say, he’s a millennial.) But Steve, on the other hand, is about 10 years my senior and is a native New Yorker—Brooklyn actually, from the Canarsie neighborhood. Steve is a retired teacher and spent many years teaching in the Brownsville area of Brooklyn, and man, he has some amazing stories.
Mostly we talk about music and sports (he’s exiled here among us Philadelphia sports fans) and he’s just endlessly interesting to me. He has a huge appetite and can eat a whole pizza. When he talks, he sounds like one of the Ramones and he still has an apartment in Rockaway Beach. We both love Seinfeld and, like George Costanza, Steve knows where all the great bathrooms are across New York City. Since he’s been added to my circle (and is such a mensch), I decided I should work him into a column.
So here’s the connection: Back in the day there were many American importers, dealers, and wholesalers. A lot of them were based in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles, but I only know of one guitar importer located in Brooklyn: Gar-Zim Musical Instruments. The company was run by Larry Zimmerman and his wife, and the couple had some success importing and selling Japanese guitars and drums. I used to see early Teisco imports with the Zim-Gar badge, which was the brand name of Gar-Zim. I’ve also seen Kawai guitars with the Zim-Gar label, but the Zimmerman’s seemed to sell cheaper and cheaper gear as the ’60s wore on, including the piece you see here.
“This build reminds me of the cutting boards I used to make in wood shop back in my high school days.”
The model name and factory origin of this guitar is a mystery to me, but this build reminds me of the cutting boards I used to make in wood shop back in my high school days. The guitar is just flat across the top and back, with absolutely no contouring or shaping. Its offset body is plywood with a thin veneer on the top and back. From a distance this guitar actually looks kind of nice, but up close you can see a rather crude and clunky instrument that offers little flexibility and playability. The non-adjustable bridge is off center, as is the tremolo. It was really hard to get this guitar playing well, but in the end it was worth it, because the pickups were the saving grace. Another example of gold-foils, these units sound strong and raw. The electronics consist of an on/off switch for each pickup and a volume and tone knob. The tuners are okay, and the headstock design is reminiscent of the Kay “dragon snout” shape of the mid to late ’60s, which is where I would place the birthdate of this one, probably circa 1966. Everything is just so goofy about this build—even the upper strap button is located on the back of the neck. It reminds me of that era when simple wood factories that were making furniture were tasked with building electric guitars, and they simply didn’t know what they were doing. So, you get oddities like this one.
Gar-Zim continued to sell guitars and other musical instruments through the 1970s and possibly into the ’80s. I once even saw a guitar with the label Lim-Gar, which is totally puzzling. I think there should’ve been a Stee-Gar designation for my new buddy Steve-o! Yes, good readers, with guitars and me, there are always just a few degrees of separation.
Our columnist’s prime example of the Avalon AV-2T.
How an improbable instrument shaped the sound of one of music’s most endearing curiosities.
Music has always been my escape. For a while, I was collecting obscure records from obscure bands, and that was just about as much fun as collecting obscure guitars. In my eccentric music collection, you can discover fife and drum music of Mississippi, 1960s Cambodian garage, furious punk, rap, hip-hop, ska, reggae, and raw blues that could peel the paint off the walls.
There was one legendary record that I was always on the lookout for: Philosophy of the World by the Shaggs. The only version I had was a scratchy cassette with a washed-out photo of the album cover. I was turned on to the band by one of my good friends, who also turned me on to the Ramones! But the Shaggs were really something else entirely.
There are two things that are most interesting to me about the Shaggs. One is the mixture of their off-tempo, off-beat sound with an innocent and endearing quality. It sounds like someone handed some sheltered kids instruments and then simply had them write songs without any training or theory or ideas of what was popular music. And that’s pretty much the deal!
The band’s backstory is basically this: The Shaggs consisted of the Wiggin sisters from Freemont, New Hampshire. Their father somehow thought that, through some kind of divine intervention, his daughters were to become a famous musical act, and the man devoted himself to forcing the sisters to practice, write music, and even record an album. This was in the mid-to-late ’60s, when there were plenty of strange musical ideas being explored, but the Shaggs’ sound was really different. It was music written in a bubble inside a cultural vacuum. And I think it’s glorious.
Here's the bass version: The Avalon AV2B.
The second thing that drew me to the Shaggs was their guitars. In the grand tradition of matching instruments, the girls played an uber-obscure guitar called the Avalon AV-2T. I wrote about this exact guitar way back in 2014, but as I was thinking about the Wiggin girls, it got me to examine how a guitar can influence an artist’s sound or writing style. The Avalon was a Fujigen product from the late ’60s, and during that era the guitars all featured rather slim, laminated necks that were perfect for smaller hands. But the tiny frets required some finesse to apply enough pressure. And the action was usually only decent up to around the 12th fret, so your chords and keys were limited. Plus, the bridge offered very little sustain. I mean … that is the Shaggs’ sound! These Fujigen pickups have that resonant, thin tone that you can hear all over the recordings.
The body style of the Avalon is so psychedelic, like a crossbreed of a Burns Bison and a Mosrite, pollinated with a Teisco Spectrum 5. Like … this was one of the craziest of the old Japanese guitar designs and it was adopted by a family band from a small New England town. The daughters were home-schooled and weren’t allowed to date until they were 18. And yet there they were on their album cover sporting tiger-flame maple electrics! If you think about popular bands or popular guitar players, most have a signature guitar that serves as the canvas of a signature sound. The Wiggin girls had the Avalon.
These guitars were only made for a year or two, circa 1968. But now they’re real finds on the used market. There was also a bass version of the Avalon that came with either two pickups (AV2B) or one (AV1B).
If you want a truly radical music experience, search out the Shaggs and give a listen. While you’re listening, think about the guitar sound, 1969, or whatever else you’re tripping on at the moment. Because after you have a listen, you’ll be changed.
SUSTO's Justin Osborne joins Premier Guitar editors and our reader of the month in discussing oddball guitars and current musical obsessions.
Question: What's the weirdest-shaped guitar you own and how did you acquire it?
Justin Osborne – SUSTO
Photo by Dries Vandenberg
A: The weirdest-shaped guitar I own is by far my '80s Kramer Voyager. I never play it live, but it was actually one of the first guitars I ever bought way back in my early teens. I was at an antique shop with my mom and the guitar was there for only $75. I borrowed the money from my parents to buy it and had a lot of fun with it, mostly just playing in my room. My friend has been borrowing it indefinitely, but I still count it as a part of my guitar collection and will always remember it as my first electric guitar.
Current obsession:
My current musical obsession is Strand of Oaks' new album In Heaven. I've been a fan for a while now, and just love how Tim Showalter creates such a specific sonic landscape on his albums. This new one is a banger!
Strand of Oaks - Galacticana (Official Acoustic Video)
Strand of Oaks - Galacticana (Official Acoustic Video)Stream / Purchase: https://orcd.co/inheavenFollow Strand of Oaks:Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/...Sam Crowley – Reader of the Month
A: My Telecasket, which I built. White Zombie is one of my favorite bands of all time and has been since high school. I loved Sean Yseult's coffin basses from the moment I saw them and always thought if I could have a custom guitar, it would be a coffin. Fast forward 25+ years, as I was playing in my horror-rock band, the Electric Dead, it was time to finally do it. My father, who is a cabinet maker, and I built it together over the course of a few weeks.
Telecasket
The string-through body is a big slab of pine, and the binding/center stripe are walnut. My favorite guitarist is Billy Gibbons, so I had to put a Pearly Gates in there. His style also influenced the choice of no neck pickup and just a volume knob. Super simple. This being our first guitar project, we didn't want to tackle the neck, so I ordered that from Solo Music here in Ontario. I replaced the nut on that with a TUSQ nut and gave it a satin finish. The guitar is amazingly resonant, sounds absolutely huge, and the audience loves it!
Current obsession:
Photo by Blain Clausen
Always Billy Gibbons. To me, he's just the coolest guitar player ever!
Billy Gibbons X-Rays His Hands?! | The Big 5
The ZZ Top legend on what makes his “Pearly Gates” Les Paul so special, why he recently had his hands x-rayed, and the “slithering” slide guitarist whose wor...Shawn Hammond – Chief Content Officer
A: Unfortunately, I can't find a pic of the cherry-finished Gibson '67 Flying V reissue I had to sell in a pinch a decade and a half ago, but I really miss it—it had neato-sounding, splittable Duncan Seth Lover pickups.
The weirdest profiles in my collection now would be my old Schecter Ultra III (which has a TV Jones Magna'Tron in the bridge position) or my Mosrite-inspired Eastwood Sidejack Baritone DLX (with Curtis Novak JM-WR pickups).
Current obsession:
Of late, I've really been lusting after a DynaSonic-outfitted Gretsch Jet.
Ted Drozdowski – Senior Editor
Photo by John Thomas Collins
A: If you're an old Delta blues guitarist, you might have started on a 1-string like my diddley bow (below). It's got slices of pipe for the bridge and nut, an old banjo tuner, a galvanized-pot body with a genuine plywood top, and an old tobacco barn stave for the neck.
It was a gift from my friend Mike Mitchell, an artist in East Nashville, and I put in a Mexico-made Tele pickup, so it sounds nasty. It's a big hit at shows and sounds super-gnarly through a Marshall.
Current obsession:
Maybe a new combo for my stereo amp setup, or a damn cool small head? And to keep on keepin' on.