Fret Started
This month Alex Bishop dons his perfectionist cap and contends with the tricky process of expertly fretting a hand-built guitar
When it comes to trying to impress fellow guitar makers, it is often the little details that count most. I always tell my lutherie students just before installing the decorative purflings and bindings around the edge of the instrument that this the moment when any flaws in their craftsmanship will be exposed – and that no matter how great the sound of that guitar, they will be somewhat pained forever by that missed opportunity to have made the ‘perfect’ instrument.
Fretwork is no exception when it comes to sweating the small stuff and lately I’ve been faced with fretting a pair of 000-size guitars I’ve spent most of the year building. Those simple strips of nickel adorning the fingerboard are the very point of contact between instrument and fingers, and as I see it they must do their job perfectly. If one fret is a fraction too low or high it will influence the clarity of tone of the notes around it and limit the playability of the guitar. Rough or unpolished fret ends will wreck the feel of a good neck, and badly installed frets can unseat over time, giving rise to problems later on. There’s a lot at stake, but on the other hand a perfect fret job makes for a guitar that feels delightfully comfortable and much easier to play.
My own fretting process has responded to problems I’ve encountered over time, and one of the biggest issues I used to contend with was the problem of ‘fret poke’. This phenomenon occurs when wood, such as the fingerboard, shrinks. I have found common fingerboard hardwoods like ebony and rosewood are particularly inclined to do this, resulting in the metal frets protruding slightly from the edges. After an otherwise perfect fret job, this contraction – which may not occur until months afterwards, often in timing with the change of the seasons – need only be minuscule to become a great irritation.
In order to fix this, I decided to start by binding the edges of all of my fingerboards. This essentially means that fret slots do not extend right to the edges of the neck. Fretting a bound fingerboard requires the extra work of adding a small undercut on the ends of every fret, but it also means that the fret does not necessarily have to come right to the edges of the ’board. This small discrepancy gives space for the fingerboard to shrink in future, without the risk of overhanging frets. I also take the opportunity to carefully shape the fret ends before I install them, opting for ‘semi-hemispherical’, or ball-ended shaping for ultimate comfort. I think the difference compared with a conventional fret job makes for an instant improvement.
Once the agony of repeatedly filing and turning the frets is over, I have a tidy regiment of precision-cut nickel frets arranged to be hammered into the neck. A fret is simply held into place by tiny barbs on the side of a tang, which pushes into a slot on the fingerboard. Mostly, it’s the compatibility between the size of the tang and the slot that determines how easy or difficult this next stage is. Given that frets come in a multitude of sizes, results can vary – but too tight and the frets won’t go into the fingerboard properly, too loose and they won’t stay put. It takes practice and experience to master, but a combination of good hammering technique, slot filing, fret prep and sheer persistence is the recipe for a smooth afternoon of fretting.
The result should be a fret job that seasoned repairers and luthiers will be impressed by and, most importantly, a guitar that people won’t want to stop playing – and they won’t even know why it feels so good.
“If one fret is a fraction too low or high it will influence the clarity of tone of the notes around it and limit the playability of the guitar”