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Harvey Thomas and the Infernal Music Machine

Harvey Thomas and the Infernal Music Machine

by Tim Olsen

Originally published in American Lutherie #11, 1987 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie, Volume 1, 2000



Remember what the term “Japanese guitar” used to mean, back when beatniks roamed the earth and Elvis was still kinda nasty? The Beatles hadn’t landed and I was in the third grade when my big brother Jim brought home a brand new Japanese guitar. Loosely modeled after a classic, it was already caving in from the load of its steel strings. You don’t see them like this anymore, man. Painted-on binding, decal rosette, door skin luan plywood, basswood (or worse) neck, nice sharp ends on those rough brass frets. I was totally fascinated!

But the word fascination found new meaning a year later when my even bigger brother Dick came home from college with what might as well have been the Messiah Strad. It was a very plain, small bodied New York era Epiphone archtop with a badly repaired crack running the full length of the soundboard, and he had bought it cheap in a pawn shop. The hand of mortal man never created such perfection. This was a gift from the angels! Oh, the lovely dissonances that it spoke as I whanged it with a juice glass slide! When Dick was begged, he would strum “Who Put the Overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s Chowder.”

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Hearing Voices: A Recipe for Voicing the Steel String Guitar

Hearing Voices: A Recipe for Voicing the Steel String Guitar

by John Greven

from his 2011 GAL Convention workshop

Originally published in American Lutherie #114, 2013



Let’s discuss a vocabulary for tone. These are the words I use when I talk to my customers.

Power. We’re talking about headroom, the ability to get louder when you play harder.

Responsiveness. I want a top that will respond easily to a light touch, but it will also sustain under a heavy one. The finished guitar will have a full voice played lightly or heavily or anywhere in between. A lot of guitars require a heavy touch; as playing pressure diminishes, the voice gets thin and loses its full substance.

Projection. How far away can you hear it? I want the guitar to throw its voice as far as possible. When I was at Gruhn’s, a 1937 D-28 came in, all original. The top was the thinnest we’d seen on a herringbone, about .090", but it was really stiff. The sound of that guitar was painful, but you could hear it for miles. For a bluegrasser trying to play lead over six banjos, that’s the guitar.

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A Summary of John Greven’s Voicing Method

A Summary of John Greven’s Voicing Method

by Mike Doolin

Originally published in American Lutherie #114, 2013



John Greven has been building guitars for fifty years, and has single-handedly built over 2200 guitars in that time. Doing the math, that means he averages close to a guitar a week. Given that kind of efficiency, it’s not surprising that his methods for controlling the sound of his guitars are simple and direct. He’s distilled the huge number of variables down to the handful that he believes are most important, and has evolved testing methods that take only seconds and require no measurement tools.

While John is a trained scientist, and does speak of the scientific aspects of guitars and wood, he’s quick to point out that his methods are not scientific, but intuitive and experiential. This is a major problem in documenting his methods: in a sense, you have to be John Greven to fully understand them. They rely on John’s vast experience in building thousands of guitars, and playing those guitars and thousands of guitars by other builders, and on his “photographic” memory for sound, and the database of sounds that his experience and memory have created in his head. Moreover, sound is not accurately describable in words, and tactile sense is not accurately quantifiable.

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Workshop Evolution

Workshop Evolution

by Kent Everett

from his 2011 GAL Convention lecture

Originally published in American Lutherie #108, 2011



Evolution doesn’t necessarily mean that you get better and better. It can mean that you evolve to fit the situation you find yourself in, such as changes in the market or your living conditions.

One basic way to set up a workshop is to have a master work bench in the middle of the room and the power tools around the edges. It’s basically a circular idea. This is very common in Spain and I think most of our small garage workshops are set up this way. In a bigger workshop, you might want to set it up so the wood goes in one end, it goes through the various operations, and it comes out the other end as a guitar. This is a more linear plan.

For five years prior to getting into the first shop I’m going to show you, I went everywhere trying to find a job as a guitar builder. I built my first guitar in Victoria, BC in a little workshop right down the street from Larrivée. I walked into his place one day and I was blown away. He had eleven employees and I could not believe it. I wanted to be part of that. I stayed in Victoria for a year trying to get on with Jean, but that was around 1980 and the acoustic guitar market was dying and he was shrinking his shop. I built four guitars in a cabinet shop while I was in Victoria. I would bring them to Jean and he would encourage me and I’d go back and do it over again.

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Meet the Maker: George Wunderlich

Meet the Maker: George Wunderlich

by Nathan Stinnette

Originally published in American Lutherie #73, 2003 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Seven, 2015



How did you start building minstrel banjos?

I was a Civil War reenactor, and I was introduced to the work of a gentleman by the name of Joe Ayers, who’s done a lot of recordings of minstrel banjo music. I’d never heard it before, and I decided right then and there that I could play that kind of banjo music. I’d grown up in Missouri where most everything is bluegrass, and I knew I did not have the coordination for three-finger playing. But this was something I could do. It was a little more melodic, a little more interesting to me.

I bought an 1880s-period banjo from a company called The Music Folk in St. Louis. It was the oldest banjo they had on the wall, so I thought, that must be Civil War. When I couldn’t get the right sound out of it, I called Joe on the phone and said, “What am I doing wrong?” He explained to me in very basic terms that my banjo was wrong. It needed to be fretless, it needed to be gut strung, it needed to have a deeper pot. With his direction, I built a banjo. This was in 1992.

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