Posted on January 12, 2010May 29, 2025 by Dale Phillips Review: Custom Guitars: A Complete Guide to Contemporary Handcrafted Guitars edited by Simone Solondz Review: Custom Guitars: A Complete Guide to Contemporary Handcrafted Guitars edited by Simone Solondz Reviewed by Benjamin Hoff Originally published in American Lutherie #66, 2001 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Six, 2013 Custom Guitars: A Complete Guide to Contemporary Handcrafted Guitars Edited by Simone Solondz String Letter Publishing, 2000 ISBN 978-1890490294 The creators of Custom Guitars had the opportunity, the resources, and the talent to bring into existence a ground-breaking book heralding today’s revolutionary age of guitar building. But.... Despite the claim of its hyperbolic subtitle, Custom Guitars is an incomplete and occasional guide that can’t seem to decide what it wants to be. It consists of eight skimpy chapters by various authors that could be (and possibly were) magazine articles, stretched out and separated by more than 200 color photographs of varying quality, followed by a list of 209 custom builders, a good many of whom — such as Guild, C.F. Martin, and Ovation — are manufacturers, not custom builders. The resulting assembly is a flashy but insubstantial piece of work, the literary equivalent of a factory guitar. Become A Member to Continue Reading This Article This article is part of our premium web content offered to Guild members. To view this and other web articles, join the Guild of American Luthiers. Members also receive 4 annual issues of American Lutherie and get discounts on products. For details, visit the membership page. If you are already a member, login for access or contact us to setup your account.
Posted on January 12, 2010May 29, 2025 by Dale Phillips Review: Dangerous Curves: The Art of the Guitar by Darcy Kuronen Review: Dangerous Curves: The Art of the Guitar by Darcy Kuronen Reviewed by John Calkin Originally published in American Lutherie #67, 2001 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Six, 2013 Dangerous Curves: The Art of the Guitar Darcy Kuronen MFA Publications, 2000 ISBN 978-0878464784 It’s getting harder to write reviews of guitar picture books. I’ve nearly passed through my third decade of playing, building, and heavy reading about guitars, and I have seen the elephant and heard the owl. When confronted by yet another hip coffee-table volume, my first thought is, “Go ahead, impress me. I dare you.” Dangerous Curves is sort of up to the challenge. Photos of 110 guitars (from an exhibition held at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston) illustrate the evolution of the guitar as objet d’art while the text attempts — succinctly and entertainingly — to track the changes to the instrument as cultural phenomena. The book is a good thumbnail refresher course in the history of the guitar with a new twist. Guitar nuts tend to think of a few guitars as important and the rest as also-rans. Within the context of art there are no important guitars, only artistically interesting guitars. Art is dynamic. The strongest art has led its culture. With the possible exception of the Stratocaster (my own judgment), no guitar has been artistically that important. Guitar art has followed cultural trends, not led them. Become A Member to Continue Reading This Article This article is part of our premium web content offered to Guild members. To view this and other web articles, join the Guild of American Luthiers. Members also receive 4 annual issues of American Lutherie and get discounts on products. For details, visit the membership page. If you are already a member, login for access or contact us to setup your account.
Posted on January 11, 2010May 14, 2025 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: François Pistorius In Memoriam: François Pistorius November 10, 1969 – June 23, 2002 by Rodney Stedall, Stuart Deutsch, Larry Baeder, and Anne Ludwig Originally published in American Lutherie #73, 2003 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie, Volume Seven, 2005 Born in Pretoria, South Africa, François Pistorius spent his childhood in the town of Bethlehem in the Eastern Free State. He attended high school in Pretoria and was interested in the creative arts, including pottery and sculpture. François started playing guitar at fourteen. After military training, he and his older brother traveled in Europe for a few years, and when he got to Galway, Ireland, he fell in love with the musical culture and the people. He stayed for four years, apprenticing with luthier Paul Doyle. He returned to South Africa and started his own shop at his farm called Kayuta, twenty kilometers east of Pretoria. He was also the leader of a band called Baraka, which played Afro-Celtic music. François was a perfectionist. He worked on his own to produce a few detailed, high-quality instruments. His designs were innovative and his instruments were far from typical. He was confident in his abilities (in an unassuming, nonarrogant way) and did not rate himself second to any other luthier in the world. François Pistorius died tragically in a motor car accident. I have fond memories of visiting him on Lynnwood Road and how much he taught me in the short period I knew him. I will always remember him for his unconventional and original approach, and for the fine instruments he crafted. I can still see him tapping his foot to those Celtic rhythms. — Rodney Stedall I thought the world of Fran’s instruments and was certain that he would be one of the great luthiers of this century. Now all I have to remember him by is a 000, an archtop, and a 12-string. I met Fran while doing sound for a documentary in Jo’burg and Cape Town. His friend Gideon worked with me as an assistant cameraman. When he heard that I collected and played guitars, we were introduced. I bought a small flattop, which quickly became my favorite instrument, then ordered a 12-string, an archtop, a classic, and a dreadnought. Unfortunately, the very day that the director of the film, Lee Hirsch, was to meet Fran and bring the last two instruments to me, fate stepped in. It’s sad that he’s gone so soon; I had been working on creating a market in the U.S. for him. His instruments blew away anything in my collection, and I have a 1936 D’Angelico archtop and 1920s and 1940s Martins and Gibsons to compare them to. — Stuart Deutsch Both photos courtesy of Rodney Stedall. I will never own one of François’ instruments, and for that I will forever be at a loss. I did not meet him, but on the phone he was articulate, insightful, and gracious. I did, however, play several of his instruments and knew that I had to have one. They are truly remarkable in every way. The line between art and craftsmanship is fine and difficult to tread. To produce something practical, superbly made, and with a higher aesthetic is to create something for the ages. François has left us with far too few instruments, but no doubt, they are for the ages. — Larry Baeder One of the highlights of my time with Guitar Talk was the article that I did on François Pistorius. His workshop was amazing and very organized. He tapped some wood for me so I could hear the difference between a good piece and one that would not perhaps make such a good guitar. His life story was fascinating to hear while I saw the many different instruments in his workshop. I was fortunate to hear his band rehearsing at his cottage in the country east of Pretoria, and also hear him play his double-neck guitar/bouzouki at a Tárrega club meeting. I was very impressed with his music, which was mainly Celtic in style. I feel very fortunate to have met him. Having known him, even very briefly, has added more color to my life. In the words of his friend Irma Wouters, “He’s making harps for the angels now.” — Anne Ludwig
Posted on January 11, 2010May 14, 2025 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: Terry Demezas In Memoriam: Terry Demezas July 17, 1953 – December 16, 2004 by Eric Meyer Originally published in American Lutherie #81, 2005 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie, Volume Seven, 2015 Terry Demezas died unexpectedly on December 16, 2004. The call from Vicky Demezas left me stunned. My associations with Terry reach back twenty-five years. That night when I had time to think about it all, memories started flooding in. I first saw him bent over an ailing guitar at Kent Rayman’s shop sometime in the early 1980s when I was trying to get my own repair business going in Portland, Oregon. Terry was a tall guy and he always had trouble with normal-sized workbenches. I’ve been storing his oversized bench in my shop for years. In what proved to be our last conversation, he said that he was going to reclaim it and get back into guitar building. That’s the way that I think of him. He changed hats many times in his too-short life but he approached each metamorphosis with energy and thoroughness. He had the soul of a responsible gypsy. When I flaked off and ran away to Europe, Terry ran my shop for me. When I returned, I asked him to keep running it. Over the ensuing years we’ve kept in contact, and he would tell me of his current projects and loves. I remember very well when he fell in love with Mexico and Vicky, and brought her back to Portland. He started a cultural exchange, “sister city” program with a small town near Vera Cruz that went on for many years and changed the lives and awareness of folks from both places. I remember him telling me of how Bob Lundberg’s beautiful and blond daughter, Branwyn, caused much distraction in the local boys. I wish I had participated, but my gypsy days were over. Photo by Cathy Monroe. He was alternately an archery bow manufacturer, a guitar maker again, a nursing student, and a hospice nurse. Through all of these later times he was a fisherman and that was probably why I was there to hear of all the changes in his life. He would call me up and lure me out of my basement shop with the promise of a ride to the Deschutes River and a day of fly-fishing. We had two hours each way of philosophy and catching up, and dinner at the Warm Springs Café. In the last two years his news really astounded me. For his fiftieth birthday Terry decided to give away one of his kidneys. He found a stranger on the Warm Springs Indian Reservation who needed one and that was that. I imagine a few folks tried to talk him out of that one, but he persisted. One was evidently enough for him. Next, I get a call from Bob Steinegger asking me to make mastodon-ivory bridge pins for a totally tricked-out guitar that Terry was ordering for an old friend. When Steiny and I drove to Salem, Oregon, for Terry’s funeral service, we met the guy. The gift had come out of the blue. We grieved with Vicky and Terry’s much loved daughter Myriam. Chris Brandt had gotten the news and was there. We talked about trying to round up one of Terry’s earlier guitars, but we didn’t know where to start to look. Michael O’Dohmnaill may still have one in Ireland. Vicky and Terry had parted ways as friends many years before and he was engaged to marry again. He was teaching his future adopted son to play the Beatles. Terry was a better fly fisherman than I am. In his extra-long green waders he looked like Gumby. He would work a spot on the river for all it had to give, often finding its hidden prizes behind submerged rocks. When the spot didn’t pan out he would move on. I’d still be flagellating the same stretch, sure that if I found the right pattern, a fish would find me. When I finally looked up Terry was somewhere around the bend, long gone, exploring a new place. I probably won’t be fishing as much now that he is gone.
Posted on January 11, 2010May 12, 2025 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: Hammond Ashley In Memoriam: Hammond Ashley Passed on May 1, 1993 by Dave Wilson, Peggy Warren, and Jonathon Peterson Originally published in American Lutherie #34, 1993 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Three, 2004 Hammond Ashley died on May 1, 1993 at the age of 91. We have lost an advocate for fine music and fine musical instrument making, and a good friend. Music was always an important part of Ham’s life. He played banjo in a dance band while studying mechanical engineering at Stanford University. Later, when working for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in Europe, he bought a bass and began learning to play. Years later, while working in Seattle as an engineer for Boeing, he played bass with the Highline Symphony, a group he helped to found. At the age of 80, Ham’s hearing deteriorated so he couldn’t hear directions from the conductor, so he took up the cello, which can be played without a conductor in smaller groups. He had a woodworking background, too. Ham had his own cabinet shop 1928 and specialized in custom antique furniture reproductions and fine interior woodwork. His clients included Edward G. Robinson, Jack Benny, Jerome Kern, and Mrs. Oscar Hammerstein. After the Christmas 1963 layoffs at Boeing, Ham planned on having an active retirement. With a background in engineering, woodworking, and music, lutherie seemed a natural choice. He set up shop under the airport’s landing approach and worked on a little of everything — organs, pianos, and even furniture. But the second floor was devoted to lutherie. He ended up having a whole new 30 year career. His lively interest in advancing the science of sounds led him to explore both the old and the new. Making, restoring, and repairing included experiences with many varieties of stringed instruments including gamba, bass, cello, viola, violin, the eight members of the “new family” of violins, rebec, sitar, sarod, crwth, and harp. But his specialty was the violin family, particularly basses. He worked with Carleen Hutchins of the Catgut Acoustical Society, and was an active member of the GAL. Dozens of people worked for and with him over almost 30 years. Ham set the pace. You might see him elbow-deep in papers at his desk, or working with the plates and winding up with glitter all over his face, or all bent over, with curled up hands, carving a scroll, varnishing a bass, or talking with customers, many of whom became friends. At age 90 he cut his hours down by taking more than an hour for lunch, and so putting in less than 44 hours a week. Ham made music by playing, by his craftsmanship, and by making instruments usable and available to others. Joyful noises came from the house over the years as Ham had fun making music with others. Ham knew what he liked, and generously helped himself, as he in other ways helped others. Friends were invited to stay to lunch or overnight on the spur of the moment. He treated others as he’d like to be treated, giving them the freedom to be themselves. When asked if something was all right with him, he’d say something like,“Whatever works for you,” or, “Don’t undervalue yourself or your work, or others won’t appreciate what you do for them.” Ham was well educated, interested in a wide variety of subjects, and had a wide variety of friends. He was a woodworker, a builder, a storyteller, a figure-it-out scientific kind of person, a thinker who worked with his hands, a courteous, determined, matter-of-fact, down-to-earth gentleman. He was greatly loved, and he will be missed. Hammond Ashley Associates, Inc. will continue under the guidance of Dave Wilson and Paul Hammond Ashley, his grandson. — Dave Wilson and Peggy Warren Photo by Michael Darnton. Ham called the Guild office a few weeks ago to let us know he was dying, and to say goodbye and thanks for everything. I asked him how he was feeling about it, and he said he was tired, that he was ready. He said he missed his wife. They were married for 63 years. She died in 1991. He said there was to be a party at his house. He was so matter-of-fact. I went up there with my wife, Ruth. He was sitting in a wheel chair, looking very content. There were kids running around, and co-workers, family and friends eating and talking, having a good time. Not a tear in the house. Ham and I talked. It was like every other conversation we had ever had. He had such grace and dignity, such honesty. We shook hands, and said goodbye. I learned a lot from Ham, almost none of it about stringed instruments. What a man! I loved the guy. — Jonathon Peterson