Posted on June 28, 2019March 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips The Imperator The Imperator Revisiting the Lyra Guitar by Alain Bieber previously published in American Lutherie #88, 2006 The year 1806 is very special for my personal guitar addiction. As reported in a previous contribution (AL#80), 1806 is when Giovanni Battista Fabricatore of Naples produced the first guitar I know of with a fully adjustable neck. This lyra guitar (or lyre guitar), now in the Paris museum, might have inspired Stauffer and the whole Viennese School. I have no proof of that, but I remember that Stauffer started his career by replicating the Neapolitan master’s models. Legnani also played a role, as everyone knows. I have become a complete fan of adjustable necks. After a dozen guitars inspired by the Stauffer model, I am more and more attracted by this basic option. I no longer see the superiority of the fixed neck. To me it is less convenient and less stable across time, due to the difficulty of adjusting the action. To summarize, I admire G.B. Fabricatore as well as the Viennese luthiers who enhanced his pioneering efforts. For these reasons I decided I should celebrate the bicentennial anniversary of the 1806 Fabricatore by building a lyra guitar, with an adjustable neck, of course. I would also find out through this exercise if such instruments were really as bad as commonly said. The so-called neoclassical infatuation flooded the world at that time and produced the lyra guitar. This instrument is a reflection of the Greco-Roman craze which influenced all aspects of arts and crafts, including the lutherie world, as early as 1750. Without that context, the lyra guitar would have been either nonexistent or very different. The neoclassical movement emerged during the Enlightenment as a facet of the profound desire for change of the whole society. Among its foundations are the concomitant archeological findings of the Naples area. A real cult for the artistic accomplishments of the ancients resulted. From this basis, a new, more austere style of furniture with multiple links to the archeological images available appeared and seduced a society which was a bit fed up with the royal styles that preceded it. All artists and craftsmen where ready for a profound change. In a rather short time the Louis XVI style was born. This moment is still considered by many as the apex of European cabinet making. 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 June 24, 2019March 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips Three Short Articles by H.E. Huttig The Guitar & I by H.E. Huttig previously published in Guild of American Luthiers Quarterly 10 #2, 1982 See also, “Three Craftsmen” by H.E. Huttig “Woes of a Wood Merchant” by H.E. Huttig My introduction to the mystery and beauty of musical instruments took place in my grandmother’s hotel suite. Grandma had been to Europe, an experience reserved for a favored few in those days. Her suite in the old Hotel Lucerne was a cultural oasis in the otherwise arid surroundings of Kansas City, a town only recently emerged from frontier days and having a considerable preoccupation with cattle and lumbering. Her rooms were filled with bric-a-brac and antique furniture. In addition there was a grand piano and numerous small instruments including violins, mandolins and guitars. I was five years old at the time and my inquisitive fingers quickly found the strings of the instruments. I marveled at the sounds and appreciated the beauty of the polished rare woods. Later Grandma moved to Miami Beach and her guitar was damaged when a hurricane blew in the windows. The guitar was given to me all in ruins, and I managed to repair it. It is still in my possession. Years later I met Delfin Martinez and Ted McCully, both talented guitarists. Delfin had come from Key West and was familiar with all phases of Latin music. Though he plays guitar, his favorite instrument is the TRES, a three stringed Cuban folkloric instrument Ted was born in Russia and was adopted by Admiral McCully from the crowds of Russian orphans left homeless after World War I. 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 14, 2010February 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: Richard L. Schneider In Memoriam: Richard L. Schneider March 5, 1936 — January 31, 1997 by Jeffrey R. Elliott Originally published in American Lutherie #49, 1997 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Five, 2008 I first met Richard in 1964 while accompanying a long-time friend on a chance visit to his Detroit workshop. The three of us spent an enjoyable afternoon taking turns playing his guitars, and I fondly remember Richard’s Mexican folk songs. That afternoon changed my life. My friend left knowing he would have a new guitar, and I left knowing I had to make them. Fate smiled and eventually Richard accepted me as an apprentice, fulfilling my dreams. Many months later Richard began my friend’s guitar. One day Richard asked if I’d like to work on it. I was surprised and delighted with the prospect of contributing to the realization of my friend’s instrument. This thoughtful gesture is typical of the generosity, trust, consideration, and a sense of the poetic that was Richard’s. Photo by Ivan-Roger Sita. I was the first of many who Richard taught over his thirty-five years of guitar making. He was a great teacher, and his enthusiasm was infectious and inspiring. His work exemplified his standard of fine craft and aesthetic harmony combined with imagination and the eternal search for the ideal sound. He was one of the most innovative people I have ever known, and his contribution to guitar making will continue to influence generation after generation of luthiers. Via con Dios, Richard, you will be missed.
Posted on January 14, 2010March 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips Review: The Guitar of Andres Segovia Hermann Hauser 1937 Review: The Guitar of Andres Segovia Hermann Hauser 1937 Reviewed by Tom Harper Originally published in American Lutherie #83, 2005 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Seven, 2015 The Guitar of Andrés Segovia Hermann Hauser 1937 Liner notes by Richard Bruné and Don Pilarz Produced by Dynamic S.r.l., Genova, Italy Dynamic catalog number CDS 433 Wouldn’t it be great to have in one source working drawings, textual explanations, photographs, and recordings of one of the most important instruments ever built? Dynamic’s offering does exactly this. Richard Bruné, Don Pilarz, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art collaborated to create a definitive description of Andrés Segovia’s famous 1937 Hauser guitar. The result is a boxed set containing a multilingual pamphlet (Italian, English, German, and French), three sheets of full-scale working drawings, a full-length audio CD of Segovia playing the instrument, and a poster. All this fits into a box that is about 6" × 9" × 3/4". The pamphlet describes Segovia’s challenges to establish the guitar as a serious classical instrument, the requirements for the instrument, technical details about it, and its physical state. One also gets a sense of Hermann Hauser as a builder. It is clear that he did not create great instruments by accident or luck. There are also almost thirty color photographs that display important details of the outside and inside of the instrument that are very useful to a builder wanting to create a Hauser-style instrument. The writing is clear and concise and provides construction details that I have not seen elsewhere. 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 14, 2010March 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips Review: Aux origins de la guitare: vihuela de mano by Joël Dugot Review: Aux origins de la guitare: vihuela de mano by Joël Dugot Reviewed by Bryan Johanson Originally published in American Lutherie #81, 2005 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Seven, 2015 Aux origines de la guitare: la vihuela de mano Joël Dugot ISBN: 2-914147-23-6 Paris, France: Cité de la Musique, 95 pp. 2004 www.cite-musique.fr When I started high school, I was given the choice of taking French, Spanish, German, or Latin. This was in addition to the regular “boy” curriculum of math, English, P.E., biology, social studies, and metal shop. (“Girl” curriculum included secretarial studies and home economics.) I had heard that cute girls took French (a gross inaccuracy, as it turned out), so French seemed like a good choice. It was taught by a very round, short, bald man who insisted we call him Maitre. Every day he would breeze into class, walking quickly to the front saying, “Bonjour la classe!” as he went. We would drone back, “Bonjour, Maitre.” We could normally tell from his voice what kind of day it would be. If he was jovial, it would be bad French jokes day. If his voice was stern, we would be covering new material. If his voice sounded tired, we would be conjugating verbs. On rare days he would say nothing at all. That was the silent language of pop quiz. For two years the main focus of the class was to learn to have a conversation with correct pronunciation. My conversational French was never very good. This was mostly due to the fact that I could barely hold a conversation in English. It was a harsh thing to take a shy, sensitive fifteen-year-old boy and stand him in front of class with an equally shy fifteen-year-old girl and make them speak to each other in clear, enunciated tones: “Hello Claire! Are you going to the library? I heard the record player does not work. Have you seen Jean? He is at the bakery. I think it is going to rain today. It is very moist....” 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.
