DREAMS OF GOLD
We’re all quick to dismiss or critique a new guitar but what about if you’re put in the design seat? Not so bloomin’ clever now are you, Mr Burrluck?
Over my many years of writing about and criticising guitars, occasionally I’ve also been involved in designing a guitar from the ground up. It’s all very well swapping some hardware or coming up with your own wiring system but designing the whole thing – where you’re in the driving seat – is a different matter. Some of you may have been lucky enough to spec out your own custom-shop guitar, or take your idea to a guitar maker. But that’s a very personal choice. What if you had to design a guitar that would be for sale and the whole world would be your judge?
I’m sure many of you will remember the furore surrounding PRS’s Silver Sky design. It seemed like the whole world had an opinion, initially based on just a photograph and a spec list. Today, your design may well be judged on that alone. I recently saw a thread about a new design by a wellestablished boutique maker. A simple picture caused a raft of negatives: “That’s ugly”; “Anyone could do better.” As I write I’m looking at that very guitar. Having spent a lot of hours with it and recorded a near album’s worth of song demos with it, I think it’s one of the most creative-sounding, beautifully made instruments I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing. What do I know?
China Calling
Back in 2007 I somehow got involved in a project to design a guitar with Trev Wilkinson for the JHS-owned Vintage Advance range. The idea was that I’d write about the process, including visiting the Chinese factory that, back then, made guitars for the Vintage and Encore brands. A limited run of the guitars would be sold into the market and a percentage of any profit would go to the Guitar Aid charity.
I documented my exploits in a three-part ‘Project China’ feature but – to cut a long story short – designing a guitar to be made in China was far from a straightforward mission. Later on that year I received two prototypes of my design: one in a satin ‘antique gold’ finish, which had caused quite a rumpus in the Chinese factory, and another in a grey/black finish. Neither were playable, let alone saleable. I took on the remedial work on the gold sample and shipped the black one to luthier Chris George in Lincoln for more extensive work. Once done, I shipped the gold guitar back to JHS HQ.
What happened next? Nothing. Somehow, the gold sample went AWOL and while I’d kept my side of the deal, the Vintage Advance AV1 VG never saw
the light of day. Fast forward to the 2019 NAMM Show and while I’m chatting to Trev Wilkinson he mentioned that he’d just moved premises and had found that original gold prototype in an unmarked box among many others. Despite being surrounded by the world’s best instruments at the show in Anaheim, I couldn’t help thinking about that prototype. Some months later, and 12 years since I’d last seen it, a box from Wilkinson HQ arrived…
Except it wasn’t the prototype at all. It was clearly another sample of my design – complete with satin antique-gold finish, a bolt-on Fender scale six-a-side neck, vibrato, twin humbuckers and some tricky five-way switching. But this sample was new and untouched, even the pickups
“I received two prototypes of my design: one in a satin ‘antique gold’ finish, which had caused quite a rumpus in the Chinese factory”
had those clear plastic covering sheets. The obvious giveaway was the headstock logo. I’d worked with Trev to redesign the Vintage logo into more of a Fender-y script; the logo on this lost-now-found guitar, in similar style, was not ‘Vintage’ but ‘Hadler’. Who? What? My design never got to the second prototype stage but here was a copy!
Time Travel
The genesis of my design was the thencurrent Vintage Zip, a sort of low-cost bolt-on ‘Les Paul Junior’ that I’d quite liked, except I’d felt its sound could be improved. My design, if it can be called that, centred around increasing its scale length from 629mm (24.75 inches) to 648mm (25.5 inches), adding a six-in-a-line headstock, dual humbuckers, Strat-like vibrato and simple master volume and tone controls. The Zip’s lightweight body was made from something called wutong (also spelled Wu Tong or wootong), a confusing catch-all name for what is probably paulownia. It’s a soft wood that’s used in some traditional Chinese instruments and while it has
quite an acoustic-y, crisp character, not dissimilar to poplar or light basswood,
I felt it needed a bit more ‘strength’. I decided I might get this by adding a 10mm maple top to (hopefully) add a little weight and firm up the sound.
A little over a decade later, the Zip ‘Deluxe’, or whatever it was never called, still comes across as the no-frills gigging guitar that, I hope, offers a wide range of sounds with minimum fuss. Even as is, that combination of the maple-topped wutong/ paulownia body gives a still impressive acoustic voice: a crisp and quite fast attack with a good Fender-like decay, not least with subtle vibrato.
I honestly can’t remember how it was supposed to be wired and before I start searching for that info I plug in and work it out: neck humbucker, screw coil of the neck humbucker, both humbuckers, both screw coils of each humbucker in parallel, bridge humbucker.
But the thing that lets it down – or at least says, ‘Hey, I don’t cost very much!’ – is the neck. It’s not so much the shape (which is a pretty generic shallow C that’s 43.7mm wide at the nut, 52.3mm at the 12th with a depth of 21mm at the 1st fret, 22.7mm by the 12th) but the feel with slightly scratchytopped frets and rather sharp fingerboard edges, along with a very pale colour to the untinted maple.
I’d like to think I’d created a visionary new design but, of course, I hadn’t. And whatever positive, useful elements there are in said design, it has simply been let down by poor execution: the ability of the factory to interpret my ‘concept’ and produce it at a price point that’s acceptable. But, of course, in The Mod Squad world, we’re not worried about profit margins or labour costs and I decided I owe it to my previous self, circa 2007, to see if I can finish off the guitar to the level I’d imagined all those years ago.
Groundhog Day
Where to start? I can’t live with the wrong logo so that’ll have to go, along with the pretty thick-looking gloss finish on the headstock face. But before I go to that trouble I go through the guitar checking the basics and dialling in the setup. I feel I’ve been here before as I’d done pretty much the same on that lost prototype. My thoughts now are the same as they were back then: basically, if I can get the neck feeling – and looking – better, this guitar might have some legs.
But as many modding readers will have experienced, sometimes a planned makeover just gets put on the back-burner. My plan to ‘improve’ the existing neck means that I’d be doing a fair bit of work on something I’m not bonding with. Chatting with Trev Wilkinson during my recent lockdown T-style kit-build, made in India by Harmony Musical Instruments, I reminded him of the project. Typically, he had an answer: “Why don’t I send you one of the new HMI-made necks? 22-fret with a headstock truss rod adjustment.”
A little while later two necks turn up, both in the modern style Trev had described. A little more modern Fender-y in feel, we have a nut width is 42.6mm, while the neck itself is 51.8mm wide at the
“I decided I owe it to my previous self, circa 2007, to see if I can finish off the guitar to the level I’d imagined all those years ago”
12th, with a depth of 21.7mm at the 1st fret, 22.8mm at the 12th. The profile is similar but the edges are nicely in-turned. The rosewood fingerboard radius measures pretty much 241mm (9.5 inches); the Vintage is very slightly flatter. Fretting is very tidy, too, with the wire measuring 2.79mm wide with a good height of approximately 1.4mm – marginally bigger and taller than the original’s frets.
Of course, both new necks have paddle headstocks so I brace myself for some more hand-sawing, filing and sanding at the kitchen table. One neck is a standard maple, the other is torrefied with a lovely deep tan colour. Nice.
The problem with fitting a new neck from one manufacturer to a body made in a completely different location is whether or not the two will fit. Luckily, the base of the neck has a similar curve to the original, which is matched by the fingerboard overhang and, for once, the god of modding was looking down at me because this new one fitted like a glove. Almost.
The base of the neck pocket in the body, however, is more than a little uneven – that original Chinese factory wasn’t the most sophisticated I’ve ever visited – and, without a router that most repairers would use to level it, I have no choice but to use various chisels and a wood file, constantly checking the depth. Otherwise, fitting the new neck is exactly how we did it in our kit-build in issues 460 and 461. So, with the holes marked for the screws in the back of the neck, I sand through the grades up to 1,000 grit then give it a few costs of Danish oil, which really deepens and enhances that rich caramel colour, and leave it to dry.
Loading In
The original design was intended to have a pretty lowly price tag in line with the rest of the Vintage range so hardware and pickups were Wilkinson, obviously, and things like pots, switches and caps all had to come from a large components catalogue held in the factory. Every penny matters. But with the addition of the new neck and that antique-gold finish, which looks far from standard low-end issue, I begin to wonder, ‘How good can I make this thing?’
The first thing I do is lightly cut back the slightly uneven matt-gold finish with very fine abrasive paper to imitate the sort of silky smooth satin you’d find on a boutique guitar from the likes of Nik Huber. It makes quite a difference – something that just wouldn’t have been possible at the original factory as it’s simply too time-consuming.
This now slightly lived-in appearance suggests some hardware that doesn’t look brand-new, either, and a set of Kluson-style tuners from an old guitar starts me off. I need to order up some adaptor grommets from WD Music as the neck is pre-drilled for larger-diameter modern tuners. A couple of minutes in a jar of diluted etching fluid has them looking suitably old to match the tuners themselves. So far, so good.
I’m quite a fan of Trev’s ‘vintage spec but improved’ vibratos, which feature a push-in arm, bent steel saddles and ‘stagger drilled’ steel block, and that’s what I’d spec’d on the original guitar. In its bright, shiny nickel-plate, however, it now looks wrong. Luckily, in my bits box I find one I’d prepared earlier… actually, an attempt I’d made at ageing a good decade ago. I’d got my timings wrong and the diluted etching fluid had stripped off some of the nickel plate revealing the copper plate below that. Applying some antiquing fluid makes it go virtually jet black but then using a metal paste polish on an old toothbrush removes that, leaving quite a funky, very old-looking piece that seems to tie in with the darker, deeper brown of that torrefied neck.
“I enjoy the process of blank piece of paper to final instrument. But creating a design is only the start”
Boutique Style
We all like different drives and a decadeplus of gigging has changed my personal taste. Two vintage-y PAF-alikes, a good volume and tone, and a fast three-way switch are enough for me and I start to consider my choices. The original guitar had a covered humbucker at the bridge and an uncovered zebra coil ’bucker at the neck, a sort of modded look that I fancy continuing with my new, more boutiquestyle makeover. And while those Wilkinson ’buckers are perfectly good, this remake needs something a little special. Back to the bits box and I find a Bare Knuckle Mule that had come on a Gumtree purchase in a rather good-looking cover, aged simply from authentic previous use. The matching neck pickup, however, looks a little too new but by removing two of the screws that hold the coil bobbins to the baseplate I can see the bobbins were double black. A little while later I remove the cover and the wax.
So, from here on in, it’s wire up, make sure the frets and fingerboard are fettled within an inch of their lives, string up and cut a bone nut. Then dial everything in. Of course, this minute attention to detail is one reason why you pay what seems like a lot of money for your boutique guitar: the experience and time of the maker, or in this case, the modder.
Final Thoughts
Once upon a time, I quite fancied myself as a guitar designer. I enjoy the process of blank piece of paper to final playing instrument. But creating a design, like writing and demo’ing a song, is only the start. As I said, an increasing number of people will just see a picture of an instrument, look at the price and pass instant comment: “Cool!” Or not.
Ultimately, though, was I originally designing a guitar that would have any appeal to anyone else but me? As a grab ’n’ go guitar to take to a jam session or function gig it certainly works, and my reworking certainly gets a lot closer to my original vision. Having an idea, or even a concept, for a one-off build is one thing but putting that all into process to create an instrument that’ll actually appeal – and sell – at a lowly price is a completely different ballgame.
I have to take my hat off to Trev Wilkinson and the numerous designers who earn their livings creating designs and concepts and travelling to Asia to oversee their production. After this project I certainly realised, too, that, irrespective of the end result, a lot of people are involved. In the case of the Chinese factory that originally made my design, most workers were girls and boys in their late teens and early 20s, living in dormitories onsite, making things that they really didn’t understand. Food for thought when you next rubbish a guitar you see and maybe even play for a whole five minutes. It’s certainly not a five-minute job to bring any guitar to market. Perhaps it’s time to give these ‘invisible’ people a little more respect? Oh, and leave guitar design to those who can!