Posted on April 23, 2025May 14, 2025 by Dale Phillips Meet the Maker: Kenny Hill Meet the Maker: Kenny Hill by Cyndy Burton Originally published in American Lutherie #90, 2007 I Spoke to the many-faceted Kenny Hill at the 2006 GAL Convention in Tacoma. The previous evening he played Bach’s Toccata, Adagio, and Fugue in C on the magnificent Fritts organ in Lagerquist Hall to a very appreciative audience. How was it that you decided to treat us to a demonstration on the organ? What an opportunity! I’ve played since I was about ten. My dad taught me and I did a little child-prodigy year, when I was ten or eleven years old. On a church organ? Yeah; in a Baptist church. My dad was real involved in church, and he made us be real involved for our growing-up time. But it wasn’t until college that I got excited about pipe organ. I had learned guitar and played Dylan songs and other stuff. But then I heard the pipe organ and the music of Bach. I thought, “I can really understand that. I can relate to that.” It led to a tremendous amount of work, but I figured that’s what you had to do. 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 13, 2025May 14, 2025 by Dale Phillips Is “Guitar Design” an Oxymoron? Is “Guitar Design” an Oxymoron? by Steve Klein from his 2001 GAL Convention lecture Originally published in American Lutherie #76, 2003 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Seven, 2015 Webster’s defines “oxymoron” as “a figure of speech in which opposites or contradictory ideas or terms are combined, e.g., sweet sorrow” and my personal favorite, “thunderous silence.” The second definition of “design” is “being able to make original plans.” When Todd Brotherton called to ask if I would speak here today, he mentioned that I’ve been doing my design thing for near on thirty years. And almost in the same breath, he called my ideas new and innovative. What’s wrong with this picture? Palm pilots are new. Downloading MP3s is new. Viagra is new. My ideas are no longer new. So why are the things that I’m trying to do still thought of as new? Or we might ask, why is the musical world so slow to change, when everything else in our culture seems to be on the fast track? Why might it take so long for acoustic guitars to evolve? This begs some questions, such as: 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 13, 2025May 14, 2025 by Dale Phillips Meet the Makers: Sue and Ray Mooers of Dusty Strings Meet the Makers: Sue and Ray Mooers of Dusty Strings by Jonathon Peterson Originally published in American Lutherie #77, 2004 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Seven, 2015 Over the past two decades, Ray and Sue Mooers’ company, Dusty Strings, has become a major player in the folk-music scene in the Pacific Northwest and beyond. Their urban-basement store in Seattle has become a regional hub, not only supplying musical tools to beginner and expert alike, but serving as a meeting place for musicians; a place for folk-music aficionados to get information about concerts, festivals, and regional events. Their enthusiasm is infectious, and their expertise, inventory, and reputation has grown over the years. They have probably built and sold more hammered dulcimers than anyone, anywhere, and they have recently moved their folk-harp and hammered dulcimer production into a new, thoroughly modern facility not far from their retail store. I spent an afternoon talking with them and walking through the plant, and was massively impressed not only by the scale and sophistication of what they are doing, but by the two of them. They are warm, welcoming, and down to earth, and they have wonderfully clear and direct attitudes toward their lives and their business. After all these years they are still in love, and despite big changes in the scale of their enterprise and the incumbent responsibilities, they still seem to be having fun. 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 July 5, 2024May 15, 2025 by Dale Phillips Pedagogue’s Lament Pedagogue’s Lament by William Cumpiano Originally published in Guild of American Luthiers Quarterly, Volume 9, #2, 1981 and Lutherie Woods and Steel String Guitars, 1998 Isn’t it a pity? Nobody wants to pay the dues of their art: everyone wants to be but nobody wants to become. Everyone wants to be called an expert but no one wants to be called a beginner. Whatever happened to the fine old tradition of the “amateur” (from the French: “lover of”)? Painstakingly, I tell my students: “Drop your illusions. You cannot become a luthier after a seven-week course. I will give you the mental tools and the process of assembly, but you must go on from here and build dozens upon dozens of guitars. You must study the masters and dissect their decisions, you must fail and throw up your hands in despair, then pull yourself together and try again, over and over. You must suffer sleepless nights wondering why and what to do next, and devour information in every direction: tools, finishes, machinery, abrasives, adhesives, old ways, new ways, odd ways. Then, somewhere between your fiftieth and hundredth guitar, you start to hear it, because you’ve been straining to listen for so long: the peculiar song of the soundbox.” 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 July 1, 2024May 14, 2025 by Dale Phillips Opinion Opinion by Keith Hill Originally published in American Lutherie #63, 2000 Everyone who practices an art, a craft, or a profession belongs to only one of two groups: Those who love the art, craft, or profession; or those who love being involved in the art, craft, or profession. That which distinguishes these two groups is that those in the latter group are in love with the idea of being an artist, craftsman, or professor while those in the former love the art itself. What does this have to do with being a musical instrument maker? Everything. The art and craft of the professional instrument maker hinges on knowing how to reliably produce a musical instrument which equals in every way the quality of the best that has gone before. To deny this reality makes a farce of the whole business. Why? Because if you replace the words “musical instrument maker” with the word “chef” (as in gourmet cook) and the words “musical instrument” with the word “food,” no one would quibble with that statement. Since musical instruments produce sound which the ears “eat,” I see no difference (nor did Mattheson who used the same metaphor in discussing music back in the 18th century) in how the standards of quality should apply. Yet, the field of professional musical instrument making is plagued with the attitude that “because we don’t know and can’t know how the great instruments from the past were made, we do the best we can and focus our attention on what we can do well” which, unfortunately, means building instruments that appeal to the eye and not to the ear. No one would hire an engineer to build a bridge who had that attitude. No one would hire a chef who had that attitude, much less want to eat anything cooked up by such person. Yet, in the field of music, such an attitude is normal. 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.
