I’ve been playing music all of my life, starting with piano at age five, a very short and unsuccessful career as a trumpeter around age 9, and picking up the guitar when I was 11. My early teen years were filled with John Fahey, Robert Johnson, Michael Hedges, Jorma Kaukonen, and Charlie Patton records. When I discovered Wes Montgomery at around 16 my world became steeped in Wes, Joe Pass, Jim Hall, Pat Metheny, and John Scofield.
Woodworking has also been in the forefront throughout my life. My father is a woodworker and journalist and was the original editor of Fine Woodworking magazine, back in the black and white days when it was more of a wood art journal. Famous woodturners like Albert LeCoff and David Ellsworth were regular visitors to the dinner table and our home was filled with elegant modern furniture built by my father. When I was very young he taught me to set up a plane, how to sharpen chisels by hand, and to sweep the shop every night.
When I was a teenager and developing a penchant for obtaining guitars my father suggested we build one. We got off to a good start but I lost interest after a couple of weeks as my focus was more on playing. I jumped ahead in the book we were working from to the fretting section and began doing my own repairs and setups. A week later I decided to refret my vintage Gibson ES-175. Probably not the best choice for a first fret job, but it came out well enough.
Following high school I attended the jazz program at the New School for Social Research in New York City and tried to master the guitar. My perseverance rewarded me with a mild case of tendonitis in my left thumb and I was forced to put down the guitar for a month. During that month I returned to my original instrument, the piano, and it has been my main instrument ever since though my love for the guitar has never waned.
I came to luthiery in a roundabout way, though looking back it seems like my whole youth was set up perfectly for it. In 2010 I was vacationing in Barcelona, Spain and attended an authentic flamenco concert. I was completely floored by the guitarists – the rhythmic and harmonic concept coupled with their technique and creativity – I felt like I had just discovered a new world. I started learning flamenco guitar, and after a time became the owner of a very fine flamenco guitar hand-built by Rafael Moreno Rodriguez.
This guitar changed my life. I have owned many fine guitars, but this guitar was a completely different animal. I fell in love with it. The tone, the responsiveness, the ease with which it played, the Brazilian Rosewood back and sides – everything about it. The craftsmanship and spirit of this guitar reminded me of a fully restored 1895 Steinway grand piano I once played at a private party. I soon found myself watching videos and reading books on luthiery. I rediscovered the copy of Cumpiano and Natelson’s, “Guitarmaking Tradition and Technology” my father had slipped me at some point and read it cover to cover.
It wasn’t long before the inevitable happened and I built a dreadnought. I had my very first acoustic guitar on hand, an old plywood Washburn D, which I traced on a piece of posterboard and set to work. I remember calling my father and telling him what I was up to, and that I had even bought a hand plane. He said, “Oh yeah? I’ll bet you know how to stand correctly and everything.” In my shop later I realized I was in a marching stance as I trued up a block of mahogany for the neck.
I have found working with wood to be a very natural experience for me, and I attribute that to my upbringing and early exposure. There was a famous jazz musician at the New School who liked to go around the room and ask everyone what their parents did for a living. If someone said their father was a doctor, he would reply, “Then you should be a doctor.” If they were a lawyer, you should be a lawyer. He ruffled a lot of feathers in that room but now that I’m older, I am coming to understand his meaning.
I was fortunate to study with many of the greatest jazz musicians of our time while at the New School, and that training has served me in many ways that reach beyond music. At my first lesson with pianist Jaki Byard, he had me play all four triad types (major, minor, augmented, diminished) through the cycle of fourths and fifths. He said, “I always do this first, because no one ever knows them all, and it takes up the whole hour.” His sense of humor was unmatched. From there you go to 7th chords, but every variation you can think of, maj7, maj7 add 6, flat 5, sharp 5, resolving sus chords, min7, min7 add2, add4, flat 5, sharp five, minor/major 7, then all of it again as polychords, on and on. It was extremely thorough. Next it was tenths with the left hand, scales, block chords, drop two, drop four, fourth chords – always through the cycles so you are always learning everything in all keys. The lesson was clear: if you want to play around with music, you better know the basics. Kind of like when I was a kid and wanted to play around with wood, and learned to sharpen chisels.
I approach designing and building guitars with this same sensibility. If I’m trying a new technique, a new joint, a new feature, whatever it is I break it down to its most basic components, and I practice it for days before building prototypes and then attempting to execute it fully. I frequently go back and do things again and again until they are as perfect as I can achieve. One of the deep truths about music and craftsmanship is that it is actually about making mistakes. One of my teachers liked to say, “A master is simply a person who has made all of the mistakes, so go make some mistakes.”
