For Sale: East Indian Rosewood/Engelmann Spruce 00

Despite its relatively small body, this guitar has surprising presence in the bass register, while notes played on the treble strings are round and sweet. The shorter scale length is inherently helpful where playability is concerned, and this instrument is indeed very pleasant to play.

• Back and sides: East Indian rosewood
• Soundboard: Engelmann spruce
• Neck: Honduras mahogany
• Fretboard: Maccasar ebony
• Bridge: Maccasar ebony
• Rosette: zebrano and Macassar ebony
• Headstock overlay: Maccasar ebony
• Neck join: 12th fret
• Body finish: pre-catalysed lacquer
• Neck finish: hardwax oil
• Soundhole diameter: 95mm
• Lower bout width: 14.5"
• Depth at tail: 4.25"
• Scale length: 24.9"
• Nut width: 45mm

Please contact me with any questions you may have, or to arrange an inspection.

Price in Australian dollars is $4,050 and includes a brand new hard case. The purchaser is responsible for any shipping costs.

Cheers, Pete.

Complete (Almost!): East Indian Rosewood/Engelmann Spruce 00

It's always a thrill to fit strings to a new guitar for the first time. This one will sit in its case for a week or so before I attend to final action and intonation adjustments. The search for its new home can then begin in earnest.

Glamour shots to follow.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: a Major Rethink

I'm reasonably satisfied with the back and sides of this guitar having carved, bent, and assembled them, even after acknowledging that the outcome is some way short of perfect. It's a prototype, I tell myself!

I'd been steeling myself for a struggle as I prepared to carve the outer and inner arches on this back plate - it's a hardwood after all. As it turned out, it was a dream to carve, and in many ways a far easier process than shaping the soundboard. After I'd dissected an old Douglas fir coffee table and reconstituted a soundboard from several pieces of the wood I salvaged, whose grain orientation was all over the place, it's understandable that the two-piece back posed fewer difficulties where predictability of grain direction was concerned. I'm now more adept at honing an edge on my gouges and curved plane blades too, and I'm sure that working with consistently sharp tools had some bearing on my enjoyment of this phase of the project.

It was my treatment of the soundboard that left a lot to be desired, and my fear on reflection was that I'd inadvertently worked it a little thinner than is wise. As Douglas fir is not a traditional material for an archtop soundboard and there's therefore little guidance available online, I was aware that guesswork was at play to a large extent, and that my otherwise adequate efforts with the back and sides could be in vain had I chosen to persist with "coffee table" version of the top.

With that in mind, and with the experience of carving a top and back behind me, I scoured the internet for an affordable top set, finally tracking down a pair of Sitka spruce wedges from Edco Fine Woods in Canada. The price was attractive enough, albeit slightly less so after factoring in the usual horrendous cost of shipping to Australia. Nevertheless, I gritted my teeth and made the purchase, and can look forward to my second attempt at producing a soundboard I'm happy with, following the suggestions on plate thickness contained in the Bob Benedetto book.

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: Back and Sides

The wood I've chosen to fabricate the back and sides of this instrument from is something of a mystery. I bought it perhaps 25 years ago, accepting without question at the time that the vendor's labelling of the wood as "Tasmanian Oak" was accurate. I don't recall whether I had immediate plans for it, but if I did, it seems I was distracted before I could convert intentions into action. It features subtle flame, which more than likely explains my purchase; there's a good chance I bought it on impulse and set it aside for a rainy day.

Wet with alcohol to reveal its colour.

I'm tempted to think that many of our endemic Australian tree species were christened in the early days of colonisation by unimaginative British folk longing for the familiarity of home; there are many native species designated as ash, maple and oak, for example, although they're unrelated to their European namesakes. I'm sure our indigenous inhabitants had much more melodious names for them prior to the invasion. 

In the case of the wood sold as Tasmanian Oak, it's commonly known that it could be sourced from any one of three Eucalyptus species, but this wood is distinctly different in appearance. To use a commercial fishing analogy, it could perhaps be described as "bycatch". It has the familar Tasmanian Oak aroma when worked, but overall it's much darker in colour and its tan shades vary across the quarter-sawn face; the texture is much finer than the ubiquitous hardware store variety too.

In any case, I managed to bend the ambitiously tight Venetian cutaway without mishap, using a technique demonstrated by Ken Parker on his YouTube channel. Briefly, it involves gluing bias-cut linen patches to what will become the outer surfaces of the tightest bends in order to support the wood fibres subject to tension as the wood is bent.  To further assist in bending these tight curves, I also followed his example and thinned the sides a little more than I usually would. To make up for the thinner sides, I added a 1mm inner laminate of cherry veneer which will contribute to crack protection and add stiffness to the rims.

Carving the back plate went well enough after I'd brushed up on my gouge sharpening technique and adopted the grimly determined mindset required. As I discovered, reducing a hardwood back plate to something approaching its final dimensions using only hand tools is a test of patience and resolve. I know that the contours of top and back plates can be roughed out using routers and other power tools, but apart from establishing the outermost plate thickness with a router, I chose to restrict myself to planes, gouges and scrapers. There's further refinement required where final thicknessing of the perimeter is concerned, but for the time being I can move on to other tasks.

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: Bridge

In keeping with the theme of this project, which is to make use of nondescript pieces of wood cluttering up the workshop, the bridge I'll fit to this instrument will be fabricated from a highly figured and seriously dense chunk of red gum (Eucalyptus camaldulensis) that I wrenched out of our firewood delivery man's hands a few years ago. "I'm not burning that", I told him!

The wood's dramatic figure is very appealing, but although it's well seasoned, it might contribute to some instability over time. The guitar is for my own use, however, and the worst case scenario is that I'll have to replace the bridge at some point - no big deal, and it's much cheaper than ebony!

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: A Dilemma

As I prepared to begin carving the top of this guitar I found myself facing a dilemma, mainly because I don't know whether I'll repeat the exercise. Ideally, for a project such as this one, I'd own a range of gouges and a convex-bottomed plane or two, but I questioned whether their purchase could be justified given that I can't be sure that the cost would be spread across more than one archtop instrument. Nevertheless, in a moment of weakness, and with the prospect of carving a back from a dense hardwood, I gave in to temptation and purchased a small convex-soled plane while resisting the urge to buy other desirable tools. Fortunately, I also own a couple of small gouges, so I'm not entirely floundering.

With the success of this guitar far from guaranteed at this stage, I guess I'll eventually deem it a worthwhile effort and be encouraged to expand my arsenal of carving tools in order to build more of them, or I'll think of it as an interesting diversion but stick with the flat top guitars I'm much more comfortable with.

As it turned out, carving the outer surface of the top plate was relatively straightforward once I'd become familiar with the areas of the top that were happy to cooperate, and those that were a little more recalcitrant. Using flat bottomed planes on the convex surfaces, I was able to quickly remove a lot of material, while my puny gouges and a variety of scrapers dealt with the concave shapes close the perimeter. My recently acquired convex-bottomed plane is certain to prove its worth as I proceed to shape the inner surface of the top.

Among the many relevant tips I picked up from Ken Parker's YouTube videos, his example of first establishing the top's longitudinal arch was an especially useful strategy. Also following his lead, I'm using a low, raking light source that's proving invaluable as I identify lumps and bumps and work towards achieving something approaching symmetry and a smoothly graduated surface.

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: Soundboard

Given the significant investment of time and effort involved in crafting an archtop guitar, there's an argument for using the very best materials I can find. An equally valid point of view is that, for my first attempt at an archtop, there are likely to be mistakes along the way and that it's good policy to choose raw materials of a lesser quality to match my modest expectations.

For this guitar, I've taken the latter approach to the extreme. A Douglas fir coffee table has languished, unused and propped up in a corner of the workshop, for years. In fact, I've had visions of adding it to the pile of tree branches accumulating in a corner of our little property as they await dry weather and a match. However, after stewing over the reality that a decent spruce top could set me back hundreds of dollars and be destined for mediocrity, I contemplated how best to repurpose the old coffee table.

As the table top was comprised of several adjacent lengths of fir, with grain oriented randomly, I separated the sections with a circular saw and selected the pieces whose grain was closest to quarter-sawn. As you can see, the composite soundboard in its raw state would be a firm favourite in an ugly contest, but I'm reasonably confident that I can transform it into something resembling a guitar. Despite their humble origins, there's a sense of excitement and anticipation when I contemplate making use of sub-optimal materials that may ultimately make beautiful noises.

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.