I couldn't have known when the process started in April, but working on this guitar seriously helped to get me through one of the toughest periods of my life—for the fall of 2014, taking on a full-time course load at North Seattle Community College while still working my full-time job. When I couldn't see friends, when I was losing sleep, when I was up to my eyeballs in math and physics and programming homework, I had something tangible to look forward to. I'm convinced that the idea and the followthrough were a gift from the Lord. Now that it's over, I actually miss the journey of working on this project. It feels funny, like mental pins and needles. But the time is moving on. I'm leaving my job of three years so I can solely focus on pursuing my engineering degree.
Tackling this project through the lenses of the Classical versus the Romantic, as described in Robert Pirsig's Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance, felt like both a complicated math equation and a celebration of my history with guitar, which I loved. Both sides came together to produce something unique and special. My friends became excited for and fascinated with the process as it went along. Michael Adams, tech extraordinaire who has had his hands on perhaps hundreds of guitars, told me that Big Riff was one of the most exciting guitars he had worked on last year. He paid me the highest compliment: "It's not something I would ever go for, but everything worked together beautifully."
I've already been asked what the next project will be. I wish I could keep on designing and making guitars! But I can't, at least not for now. Big Riff was my attempt at an "end-all be-all" double fat Strat with a built-in sustainer device, which could handle metal.
If I had the ability to make another guitar, it would be a baritone. I've been interested in baritone guitars since I was a teenager. There's something awesome about the increased scale length and low-end girth. The problem with baritones is that guitar manufacturers tend to view them as secondary: poorly made, with a cheap black paint job and an irredeemably disgusting tribal motif intended for nu-metal fans to go "Yeeeaaaaah! F***in' cool, bro!" OR, they're just a knock-off of a traditional Fender design and are always equipped with single-coils pickups. Why aren't there humbucker-equipped baritones, with original new designs and made with quality wood and components? There's a void there in guitardom. 7- and 8-string guitars are finally being taken seriously as professional quality instruments, but given the longer scale length which impairs the ability to bend strings (even high ones), you'd think that heavy guitarists would be content with foregoing high strings and asking more for baritones.
In the last few years, I've also been interested in guitars made with unconventional materials like acrylic and aluminum. Acrylics aren't common, but they have been around for a while. The Dan Armstrong plexi is a classic instrument with an innovative "hot swap" pickup design (seriously, why didn't this take off?). It's heavy, unusually expressive and clear—no pun intended—and fun.
Photo pulled from Google image search.
And then there's Electrical Guitar Company. These folks craft space-age looking necks machined from aluminum. I've yet to play with one, as they're a custom order only, but sweet goodness they look amazing. The bodies may still be made out of wood, or chambered aluminum with a slick polished "mirror" finish...
(Google image search)
...Or acrylic WITH the aluminum neck! Best of both worlds!
WHAT IN THE WORLD?! (Google image search)
And then there's the Moog Guitar. It's like having a sustainer on speed. Both pickups are independent devices which can be set for sustaining or stopping power, and the pickup operations can be blended for out-of-this-world harmonics. And it's not a cheap sound-effect gimmick, either: the strings are actually being affected to produce these tones. The Moog Guitar comes complete with a built-in ladder filter. It's unfortunate that these guitars have already been discontinued. I'm certain the $3400 price point didn't help its cause:
A millenium ahead of its time.
Obviously these materials and designs reach far beyond anything I could ever ask Warmoth to do if I wanted to build another custom guitar. But this is where my mind goes in my ongoing quest for tone. I don't want a vintage or "relic-ed" instrument. Give me the unusual stuff. The really unusual stuff. Perhaps, after another three years of school and electrical engineering degree attained, I will have ideas for even more guitar functions that haven't been explored yet.
Anyway, enough of that. This blog will remain online as an archive to an entire beginning-to-end process, and if I get to design another axe, I may decide to reinstate it.
I need to thank the heroes who made Big Riff possible:
Warmoth guitars — Everything about my experience with them has been awesome. Well-laid-out website on both the body/neck design and purchasing ends. Every time I needed to call them to ask a technical question, the very first person I talked to on the phone answered that question; there was not a single "Oh, that's not my department, let me transfer you to..." Also, EVERY order came in on time or earlier, including the birdseye maple neck. I would be proud to do business with them again.
Angeles Moreno — Angeles was super cool about sending me the Moogdula font for the headstock logo. Through our email interaction, she seemed pleasantly surprised that someone wanted to feature her handiwork on a musical instrument.
Chris Mannino — My coworker who helped by making the vinyl labels for the headstock. They're killer and I now have spares!
Michael Adams and Mike & Mike's Guitar Bar — What can I say? In his last month in Seattle, Mike really pulled through and did a thoroughly kickass job with the electronics as well as with fixing several small points on the body and neck. There was only one person I would have felt comfortable bringing it to for wiring the Sustainiac, and he took charge of it like the expert professional that he is. Mike, thank you again, friend, and I'm so happy for you and Charissa as you both pursue your passions in Los Angeles. Mike Ball (aka "Other Mike") told me "This doesn't have to end just because Mike [A.] is away." I'll be sure to visit as often as I can!
And I'd like to thank God, the Creator, who has made us in his image and given us the capacity be creative. May the music I make with this instrument be pleasing to him.
Soli Deo Gloria.
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