Opinion
While a Strat is often labelled the archetypal guitar model, it took Adam Goldsmith a while to find his perfect match
One thing I’ve never owned – that many guitarists consider their most essential possession – is a Strat that I’ve really bonded with. I’ve always found it easy to bond with Telecasters, and Gibsons, especially 335s, but for some reason the ideal Strat, the archetypal electric guitar, has eluded me so far. I’ve had several Custom Shop models, all of which have been nice guitars, but none of which I stuck with – despite always having to take one on sessions, because they are the sound of electric guitar that people expect to hear and (sometimes more importantly) see when they hire a guitar player.
This week I’ve been sent some tracks to record for production music company Audio Network, and the charts have been marked up with suggested sounds and guitars. This is not an unusual thing for composers to do, and nine times out of 10 the references, in terms of electric guitar, are either ‘Strat’ or ‘Les Paul’. This gives me a base to work from in terms of the general type of sound the composer has in mind. I won’t always exactly follow the suggested instrumentation, but I will follow the general spirit of the instruction. For example, I’ll often use one of my PRS guitars, either a DGT or a Custom 24 I’ve had retrofitted with OX4 pickups (which I love) instead of a real Les Paul, largely because the tuning (especially on the G string) and reliability of PRS is better than that of most Les Pauls, and this is more important for most projects I work on.
Most of the charts for this project I’m working on are marked ‘Strat’, so I’m using an interesting guitar that I bought about two years ago on a trip to London’s Denmark Street, home of many legendary guitar shops. I’d decided to take the plunge and buy a vintage Strat as I wanted to finally find one I really loved. I’d arranged appointments to try a couple of different guitars. First up was a refinished Fiesta Red 1962 model, which, from memory, was around £10,000. I was a little nervous as I’ve never spent this amount of money on a guitar, but I figured: it is my job, it’s a tax write-off, etc, etc, and I’ll only ever buy one of these guitars. I experienced a mixture of relief and disappointment after playing it for half an hour or so in the shop, however, when, despite the magic – real or imagined – of playing an original ’62 Strat, I concluded it didn’t sound or feel better than a nice Custom Shop model. I then experienced the same feeling with a couple of later 60s examples a bit further down the street.
I was just about to make my way home when I spotted a beaten-up white Strat in the window of Regent Sounds, which had an interesting story behind it on closer inspection. It had been owned by a working musician from north London for most of its life and was a composite of a couple of different guitars. The neck was from a 1964 Strat, with a Brazilian rosewood fretboard, and it looked like the neck and mid pickups were from the same guitar, while the bridge was a 1972 example. As for the body, no-one has been able to agree on its origin for obscure technical reasons I don’t fully remember. Best guess seems to be late 60s or early 70s, or possibly not even Fender at all. However, I loved this guitar straight away.
The neck was the real selling point. It feels absolutely amazing and fits my hand perfectly. At around £4,000 this guitar was the same price as a Custom Shop model but had bags of vibe from years of use, which you just can’t fake, so I bought it immediately. The only thing I’ve been not quite so happy with is the weight of the body (it’s too heavy for me), so in the absence of an available original 60s body, I commissioned Scott Cameron of SC Relics to provide me with a nice lightweight Fiesta Red body (pictured below), similar in appearance to Michael Landau’s guitar, which I love the look of.
It should be arriving this week, so I’ll be very interested to see how the addition of this body impacts the tone and general feel of the guitar once it’s been fitted, and will report back next month.
If, like many of us lately, you’ve been living your life through the various digital channels available, you’ll have noticed the plethora of ‘post a pic of this or that, one a day for 10 days, no explanations or descriptions’ on Facebook and other social media platforms. Most of us on the magazine have done our 10 albums, and some are currently on their 10 black-andwhite photo posts.
When I listed my most musically influential listening, many of my friends were perplexed that my first three choices were by Elvis Presley, Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra. They’d expected guitar stuff. But my first musical influence was my mother, who played classical music and jazz albums on the ‘radiogram’ when we were kids. Of course it seeped into my subconscious, as it did with my siblings. We all then went off and got into different things – one brother adored Motown and the other prog, while my sister was into blues and soul. Seeing Jamie Dickson and Dave Mead run through their albums was a total revelation, too – they came out with things I’d never imagined, and some stuff I’d not even heard of.
But this whole exercise got me to thinking. I’d posted about four days’ worth of choices before I realised I’d not listened to some of these records in years. And here I was touting them as my favourites. The first thing was to redress that situation. It was strange, though, because when I re-auditioned them I realised I’d completely forgotten some of the Ella and Frank tracks, and was shocked at how corny some of the Elvis ones were. But then I suppose usually it’s a few particular songs that stick out in any collection, and it’s these that give you the impression that the entire album was amazing. But Elvis totally nails the slow blues, Reconsider Baby!
Even with Beatles releases, which generally contained a very high percentage of quality songs (and which I use as my example because their repertoire is ubiquitous), there were always those that I didn’t much like. The silly ones such as Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Yellow Submarine and When I’m Sixty-Four often hit you first because of their sheer catchiness. But they soon palled and the ‘weird’ offerings like Tomorrow Never Knows, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds and I Want You (She’s So Heavy) wind up being the ones that stand the test of time.
New Favourites
Having reconnected with my own favourites, I figured my next task would be to delve into some of the favourites of my friends. These ranged, as I’m sure you’ll know from seeing what your own pals have selected, from the sublime to the ridiculous. Being something of a reticent listener to new music, I decided to go for the albums I’d at least heard of, or that were by artists I may have avoided but people I respect can’t get enough of.
I find it hard to believe there are some really famous albums – by really famous bands and singers – I’ve never listened to from start to finish. For instance, I loved early Led Zeppelin and devoured each release up to a certain point, but then what they were doing began to diverge somewhat from my tastes, which were changing to more melodic music. Naturally I’ve heard every song now, but I never chose to buy certain albums. Same with David Bowie. I’d say in my list of 100 favourite singles a lot of his music would be in there, but some of the albums after Hunky Dory didn’t initially float my boat.
That has to be corrected. So I will start with those two legendary names, and then perhaps King Crimson, Yes and Genesis (I’ve always loved certain tracks by prog bands, but it was never my ‘thing’). And if any of this has struck a chord with you, do write and share which artists or albums may have passed you by, or which you have recently ‘discovered’.
So, what’s up first – is it Station To Station, In Through The Out Door, or Going For The One? See you next month.
When it comes to handmade guitars, I love a bit of aesthetic flair, but beyond the fancy details, for me it’s all about the wood. And I’m not sure there are many guitarists or luthiers out there who would disagree. It might be the exotic allure of cocobolo, the Englishness of a piece of indigenous walnut, or a slab of reclaimed timber with a story, but what’s certain is for today’s discriminating guitarist there is certainly plenty of choice.
Fortunately for a one-man-band luthier like me, life in lockdown has been a relatively unchanged affair with the exception of some socially distanced repair drop-offs, alongside the disappearance of teaching and gigging. And so it was a pleasant surprise to pick up a couple of commissions soon after the shutters dropped, triggering a couple of lengthy Zoom chats and telephone conversations on timber selection. So, where does one start?
The two main considerations when choosing wood for your guitar are fairly obvious: aesthetics and tone. With regard to looks, it’s really a matter of opinion.
For some people the showy figuring of AAA quilted maple is divine; for others it’s garish. The word ‘figuring’ is generally used to describe this almost three-dimensional effect caused by unique growth patterns in the tree. Sapele, walnut, spruce and many others exhibit their own variations. Just look up guitars made from ‘The Tree’ (a mahogany with deep tortoiseshell quilting) to see how the world’s best luthiers deal with such eye-catching timber.
How do such growth patterns affect the tone? The quick answer is you’re unlikely to hear a major difference, rather it’s the species of wood used for the back and sides that provide most of the ‘flavour’. Maples tend to deliver a bright tone, whereas rosewoods offer the familiar warmth loved by fingerstyle players and folk guitarists.
I’ve found other woods, such as walnut and mahogany sit somewhere between the two. But these words simplify what we actually hear, so in order to make sure I’m speaking the same language as the client, it helps to have a reference guitar to use as a starting point when discussing tone. Where this is not possible we can use a little history to direct things. One of my recent commissions was for a Gypsyjazz-style tenor guitar. The customer was looking for something with a traditional sound, permitting a couple of modern appointments including an arm bevel. A European spruce top matched with walnut seemed the obvious choice, as this was the standard for the Selmer factory in the 1930s. I happened to have one last beautiful straight-grained set of English walnut in my wood store, with heart wood running down the middle. A couple of photos on my cameraphone later and the decision was made.
Limits Matter
There are other considerations, too. Certain woods are covered by CITES restrictions, so don’t expect to take your brand-new Brazilian rosewood parlour guitar on holiday without the relevant paperwork. The type of timber you choose can also limit the creativity of the design. Inlay work can get lost in the visual noise of highly figured woods, so it doesn’t pay to throw in the proverbial ‘kitchen sink’, even if your budget is a big one.
Instead, it’s working within limits that makes for the most enjoyable challenge and a meaningful end result. In May, I was supposed to be exhibiting at the Holy Grail Guitar Show, and although the event was cancelled I still rose to their challenge to build an instrument from reclaimed wood. This all-mahogany Gypsy-jazz guitar is built from an old table, with oak bindings and a fingerboard from an old house beam, avoiding softwood for the soundboard altogether. As a result it’s seen me experiment with cedar lattice bracing to strengthen the extra-thin mahogany top. Add to this the fact the instrument has been built under lockdown during a worldwide pandemic and the end result is going to be a guitar with a fascinating story behind it before it has even sung its first note…