Posted on January 12, 2010May 29, 2025 by Dale Phillips Review: Benedetto Archtop Plans Review: Benedetto Archtop Plans Reviewed by Dave Riggs Originally published in American Lutherie #66, 2001 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Six, 2013 Benedetto Archtop Plans Drawn by Skot Koenig Stewart-MacDonald Any veteran writer knows it is probably not a good idea to gush praise upon a product which he is reviewing, and I always want to seem professional in the eyes of good writers in case one of them reads this. Therefore, knowing I may go to hell for it, I must warn you all to get ready for the gush. Although plans have been published of a classic Epiphone by Scott Antes as well as D’Angelico New Yorkers by both Steve Andersen and Tom Ribbecke, the ones recently published by Bob Benedetto are unique among all such plans and are deserving of special mention. Forget that these new drawings are of guitars currently in production by a living luthier and that archtops may not be of interest to all guitar makers. The drawings are worth buying for several reasons, whether or not this particular instrument is of significance to you. 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: 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 23, 2025 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: Arthur E. Overholtzer In Memoriam: Arthur E. Overholtzer January 27, 1910 — 1982 by Bruce McGuire Originally published in American Lutherie #35, 1993 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Three, 2004 In 1969 I was a student at Chico State, a hippie living in a rented house. One day the older man who lived next door came over to introduce himself. He said he was teaching a group of people to make guitars, and needed space for wood and tools; could he use my basement? I had never even played the guitar at that time, but I told him he could use the space if he would take me on as his apprentice. That’s how I met Art Overholtzer. For three years I was his neighbor and private student. He became like a father to me. I helped him write his book Classical Guitar Making and took all the pictures except the ones that I am in. I’m proud of my legacy and relationship to one of the world’s best classical guitarmakers. Arthur Overholtzer. All photos courtesy of Bruce McGuire. Art and Bruce (seated at front) with students of the 1969 guitar-building class at Chico State College. Bruce McGuire. Art working on a soundboard. Art suffered a severe heart attack in 1971, and he summoned me to his bedside. He asked me to take over his guitarmaking class at Chico State and carry on after him. I did both as best I could. He asked me to look after Orpha, his aging wife, and to make sure his book was published. As it turned out, he lived to see it in print and his heart condition was abated for awhile. After moving to Santa Cruz in 1972, I continued building by Overholtzer’s technique. I also took on a student by the name of Richard Hoover. He built his first guitar under my supervision and we worked together as partners. My instruments bore my name as BR McGuire Guitars. His guitars bore the name Otis B. Rodeo. I took Richard up to the Overholtzers’ house in Chico to introduce him to my grand master. They liked each other instantly. Art was pleased to see Richard’s first guitar and he found comfort that I was passing on the tradition of training an apprentice in quality guitarmaking. Richard was single, and in a position to devote his full time to instrument building. I had two girls at the time, and it was necessary for me to have a full-time job in addition to guitar building to support my family. In 1975 Richard Hoover and I parted company and he began the Santa Cruz Guitar Company. Santa Cruz has been extremely successful and their guitars are some of the finest in the world. Richard has had interviews in numerous publications over the years and it burdens me that Art Overholtzer is often left out of the chronology. It was his precision, knowledge of wood, method of wood selection, and theory of building a guitar with no stress that was passed through me to Richard and his employees. Editor’s note: Richard Hoover comments that he “owes an undying debt of gratitude to both Bruce McGuire and Art Overholtzer,” who he calls “the grandfather of my lineage.” Richard agrees with Bruce McGuire that it is unfortunate that nonlutherie publications generally edit out his mention of Overholtzer’s strong influence on a generation of guitarmakers. My guitarmaking has been somewhat sporadic lately. I have three more children and a rich family life. I also have a new apprentice by the name of Steve Clifford who is the youth pastor of Santa Cruz Bible Church. We just glued the back on his first rosewood classical guitar. Steve's guitar will sound incredible because I let him use my finest rosewood and spruce from the '60s. Art and I purchased rosewood in Berkeley when it cost $1.50 per pound and I still have enough to last the rest of my life. All of Art’s hardwood was passed on to me. Some of it has been drying for fifty years. His Sitka spruce came from Alaska thirty years ago and I also have a lifelong supply of it. I need no recognition from Steve. Instead, the recognition will be to our Lord who was very close to Art Overholtzer and myself. Steve leads worship services with guitar and he has a great impact in his music ministry. Art will be smiling down from heaven when he realizes that his tradition of unconditional faith, uncompromising quality, and integrity have been passed on in a profound way. A thousand people will sing each week along with an instrument built by his apprentice’s apprentice. Art Overholtzer needs to be given credit for being a fine human being who made an enormous contribution to guitar building through his unfailing generosity and through sharing his knowledge of guitar building with anyone who asked.
Posted on January 11, 2010May 14, 2025 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: David Rubio In Memoriam: David Rubio December 17, 1934 – October 21, 2000 by Paul Fischer Originally published in American Lutherie #65, 2001 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Six, 2013 Born in London, David Rubio was educated at Whittingham College, Brighton, and then studied medicine at Trinity College, Dublin, but gave up because of color blindness. His other abiding interest at the time was the guitar, and in particular, flamenco. Self-taught, he spent time playing in London coffee bars before deciding to go to Spain, where he played with traditional singers and dancers. To supplement his meager income, he began trading wood between guitar makers and, in the process, learned something of the craft and art of guitar making. The hours spent in these workshops was not wasted, and what he witnessed and experienced, further enhanced by his photographic memory, would be put to good use some years later. He was invited to go with the Rafael de Cordoba ballet company on a tour of New York in the early ’60s, and on completion of the tour, Rubio remained in New York, having met Neste, who later became his wife. He had been born David Joseph Spinks, but during his time in Spain had acquired the sobriquet “Rubio,” a reference to his pale north European complexion. He later Hispanicized his second given name, Joseph, to José. It was during this period in the early ’60s that he decided at first to repair guitars, then quickly moved to making them. Working from a garret in Greenwich Village, he built these first instruments on a chest of drawers using tools purchased from Woolworths. The guitars carried the label: “José Rubio Constructor de Guitarras.” A stroke of good fortune occurred when Julian Bream brought him an instrument for repair and was much impressed by a flamenco guitar just finished. By the mid-’60s Rubio had made numerous guitars and had a reputation as “the gentleman guitar maker,” a reference to his habit of working in smart clothes. When I joined him in 1969, he still wore a velvet crimson waistcoat and bow tie while working. The connection with Bream led to an invitation to return to England and to use a recently renovated barn on Bream’s estate as a workshop. Rubio warmed to the idea, and in 1967 moved all his equipment (by then very professional) across the Atlantic and took up residence in rural Dorset. Photo courtesy of Classical Guitar Magazine, UK. Much influenced by the instruments of Simplicio, Santos Hernández, and Bouchet, by the time he was settled in his new workshop in England, Rubio’s guitars had taken on an identity very much their own, and now carried the label, “David J. Rubio, Luthier.” Working closely with Bream, his reputation and confidence grew rapidly. But it was Rubio’s desire to have his own workshop, and by 1968 he had found a property in Oxfordshire requiring much restoration, but ideal for his purpose. With his usual concern for detail, a 15th-century house with barn was sympathetically converted into an ideal workshop and residence. Since his early days in Greenwich Village, Rubio had moved back to England, changed workshops twice, and established himself as a leading guitar and lute maker in just five years. That, by any standards, was an impressive achievement and perhaps enough for most people, but not Rubio. At that time, the early music scene was burgeoning, and there was demand for good copies of historical instruments. This was why, in January 1969, I presented myself at his door, informing him that I was a qualified harpsichord maker seeking to extend my experience into fretted instruments. To my surprise and delight, he said his next project was to make harpsichords. When could I start? Grass never grew beneath Rubio’s feet, so with my experience in harpsichord making, we began an instrument almost immediately and presented it to the customer some months later. Other instruments soon followed — theorbos, vihuelas, citterns, pandora, as well as lutes and guitars. With the rapidly increasing demand for all instruments, two makers could never hope to satisfy demand, so the decision was made to build another workshop, specifically for harpsichords, and to use the existing one for small fretted instruments. The workforce was increased from two to nine, inevitably putting great pressure on Rubio’s time, so I became manager, which freed him to concentrate on his next project, bowed instruments. Creating yet another workshop for himself, in 1972 he began making Baroque violins and cellos, later followed by viola da gambas. With his increasing interest in bowed instruments, only a limited number of guitars and lutes were made by him personally; most carried the initials P.F. and a smaller number, the initials K.S. (Kazuo Sato). By the mid-’70s, Rubio’s thoughts had turned to his long-term future and a desire to return to working solo. In 1979, he left Oxfordshire for Cambridge. As the market for harpsichords declined, his interest turned to the modern violin, and these he continued to make until the last few months of his life. Parallel to violin making, he undertook research into the varnishing techniques of the Cremonese masters, as well as acoustic testing for guitars and other instruments. For this work, Cambridge University conferred on him an honorary master’s degree. During his years in Oxfordshire and Cambridge he made a relatively small number of guitars and lutes, but come the ’90s, his restless energy brought him full circle and back to his first choice, this time to something of a hybrid among guitars, the 8-string guitar, but not in its more usual form. In collaboration with the guitarist Paul Galbraith, an instrument using an asymmetric fingerboard and bridge, such as was used on the orpharion of the 17th century, was developed and christened the Brahms guitar. The many and varied instruments made by David Rubio will, of course, remain as a testament to his creative energy and talent, and so will the many younger makers who were influenced by his ideas, inspired by his achievements, and encouraged by his example. David Joseph Rubio died of cancer in his workshop on October 21, 2000. He is survived by Neste, and his daughter, Benita, from an earlier marriage.