BINKY PHILIPS – A LEGENDARY COLLECTION

For those who don’t live on the East Coast, you might only recognize the name Binky Philips by his role as a frequent contributor to the Huffington Post, sharing his colorful, humorous rock and roll experiences. For those who remember the ‘70’s New York rock scene, you may remember Binky as a member of the legendary CBGB/Max’s Kansas City band, “The Planets.” Within a five year span, The Planets shared bills with The New York Dolls, KISS, The Ramones, Television, Blondie, Dictators, Mink DeVille, et al.

Following the demise of The Planets, Binky ran East Village records stores, did independent radio promotion for every major record label’s Rock and Alternative acts, and started his own record label, Dotpointperiod.

He currently plays guitar in a modern-day version of The Planets, as well as being a member of The Last Ditches with his old friend, Walter Lure of the infamous Johnny Thunder’s Heartbreakers. In addition, Binky’s ebook, “My Life In The Ghost of Planets – The Story of a CBGB Almost Was” is out and available at iTunes and Amazon, released as part of Rhino Records’ Single Notes Series.

I recently caught up with Binky to get the stories behind some of the outstanding pieces in his iconic collection, as told by the man himself…

1966 Telecaster

“On the Saturday after Thanksgiving 1966, my Dad announced, “We’re going to Manny’s to try out one of those damn Telecasters you won’t shut up about, okay!” I was inside-out with excitement. Head salesman, Henry, unlocked the glass case that held the Fenders and handed me a blond on blond Telecaster, the exact style I craved. I was instantly the star attraction; the envy of every clustering-around-me kid in the store. On Christmas morning, a big cardboard box with FENDER in blue ink was sitting next to the tree. Made in October 1966 according to the maplecap neck, it was indeed the classic blond-on-blond. Why is it black now? Stolen from me in 1974, recovered in 1978, the thief had stripped the finish. I’d always loved the way Bob Dylan looked with Robbie Robertson’s black Tele. So, about a dozen years ago, I got a little drunk, and with a fancy Japanese broad-tipped magic marker, ‘refinished’ my Fender black. It’s aging organically and beautifully. The string-wrapped bridge pick-up has a specific snarling roar that frankly, flattens almost every other Fender I’ve ever put through an amp. Classically unforgiving, you have to work to play this Telecaster. Consequently, you get that real snapping rawness that only a Tele brings to the Albert Collins/Don Rich par-tay!”

1957 Stratocaster

“I’d had the Telecaster for six months and was loving it. I’d seen The Who for the first time, at the legendary Murray the K show in March of 1967 and Pete was playing and throwing around a twin of my Tele. I was so very proud. Then, The Who came back for a full-length show on July 8, 1967. This time, Pete completely destroyed a sunburst Stratocaster. Now I had to have a Strat. I’d heard that a tough kid named Ray had one for sale near my ghetto-located junior high school. I sold a one pick up copper-colored Jimmy Page Danelectro for $25 (I’d paid $18 for it) and my Premier reverb unit for another $25. And that was how I was able to afford a November 1957 Fender Stratocaster for fifty bucks!  One day, in late 2000, I stumbled onto this yellow-gold ultra-weather-checked nitro body at 30th St Guitars. I had the bought stripped and repainted black two-piece 1957 body swapped for the gold one and had another Strat built using the 1957 body. The woodgrain on the ’57 body is the straights I’ve ever seen on any guitar. So, I kinda have almost two 1957 Strats. The gold is big and bold, the lead guitar. The black simmers with warmth, the rhythm guitar. Both sound great!”

1964 Gibson Hummingbird

“In April of 1969, the intro to “Pinball Wizard” convinced me… I had to own a steel-stringed acoustic guitar. Eight weeks later, I started an office boy summer-job at an architect firm, saving every penny for a low-budget Gibson or Guild. One day, Michael, the other ‘summer job’ kid, asked me, “So why are you working this summer?” I told him of my acoustic guitar goal. He replied, “Really? My older brother is selling his. He bought it at Manny’s around Easter time in 1964. It’s been in his closet ever since.” Just before Labor Day, I met Michael’s brother in a parking lot in Greenwich Village and handed him $175 in cash. He handed me a hardshell Gibson case with an orange-sunburst 1964 Hummingbird inside, the second most important guitar in my collection. I have approximately 120 songs lounging in the Library of Congress. I wrote over 100 of them on this Hummingbird. The tone is mythical no matter how you hit it. But, when you really crack the whip, it is the loudest acoustic guitar I’ve ever played.”

1969 Gibson SG (formerly own and thrown by Pete Townshend)

“Utterly obsessed fan that I was, I’d decided to sleep out for a full two nights under the marquee of the Fillmore East on 2nd Avenue and East 6th St. to buy tickets for The Who’s Final Performance of “Tommy” at the absurdly ostentatious and downright silly venue, The Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center.

About eight weeks later, Sunday, June 7th, 1970…  It was Show Time.

The lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and Bill Graham came out of the wings, and as he always did at a Who show, solemnly intoned with his deep voice-of-authority, “Ladies and Gentlemen… on bass, Mr. John Entwistle… on lead vocals, Mr. Roger Daltrey… on drums, Mr. Keith Moon, and on guitar, Mr. Peter Townshend… Please welcome, The Who…”

Off we went!

For some reason, Pete seemed truly angry and disgusted about something. His playing reflected it. He was ferocious!

Once a wonderfully performed “Tommy” was over and done with, The Who played a few ‘oldies’ and finished up with “My Generation.” To my distinct disappointment, instead of the expected and much anticipated guitar destruction, Pete carefully leaned his Gibson SG Special against one of his Hiwatt amps without so much as one bang. The boys took their bows and left the stage.

The crowd was crazy for an encore. But, The Who had another show to do in three hours and besides, they almost never did encores. Hell, most of the time, the stage would be a shambles. But, suddenly, the lights went back down, the crowd bellowed, The Who walked back onstage.

As the roaring jam of “Shakin’ All Over” was drawing to a close, Pete snuck a quick look at me. Our eyes met.  My intuition instantaneously somehow understood. I was now tingling. I could feel my breathing get quick and shallow.

While Keith and John and Roger thrashed through the big typical Who coda thing, Pete unplugged himself and walked to the edge of the stage, wrapping the strap around the guitar’s body with elaborate care. He locked eyes with me. He asked me with his body language, Are you ready?

Surrounded by friends who understood and stood back, I nodded. Pete stepped back a couple of feet, judging the distance of the orchestra pit, and in a Zen zone, tossed his SG Special high in the air.

In slow motion, it arched towards me. Gliding in, face first, I literally caught it by its two pointed cutaways. Pete’s perfect-touch toss would’ve made Joe Namath proud.

As soon as the guitar was in my arms, I looked back at Pete…

He smiled, a quick nod, his eyes saying, “Nice catch.”

The lights came up.

Many dozens of kids were charging down the aisle, absolutely intent on taking that guitar away from me.

A true mob!

Out of nowhere, one of Bill Graham’s actual real-life Hell’s Angels ushers, a tuxedo-ed 6′ 6″ linebacker with long blond Viking hair and a wandering right eye, suddenly materialized next to me.

As the hordes came charging toward me, looked down and growl/croaked, and I mean like frickin’ Lurch…

“You’ve been at every fuggin’ Who show I’ve ever ushered. NO ONE is taking that guitar from you!”

And he was true to his word…

“Back off! Mess with him, you’re messing with me. It’s his!” [highly sanitized quote]… and.. Oh, yeah, they backed off.

He then led me and my date (first time I’d ever taken a girl to see The Who… Wow, was Esther impressed!) backstage and out onto West 66th St. via what seemed a semi-secret exit.

Although it’s somewhat fragile (Pete did bang it around some before he tossed it to me), I have been playing the guitar for decades now. Plugged into a big amplifier, it sounds exactly like “Live at Leeds”. EXACTLY!”

1959 Gibson Les Paul

“I’d first seen this guitar when Ricky Derringer brought it into be repaired at Guitar Lab, the Summer of 1970. It had a small shallow inch long crack on the bass-side of the headstock by the head nut, courtesy of an airline. It was the first sunburst Les Paul I’d ever held. It glowed with vibes. And, instead of bright or fading red, it was an unexpected and compelling dark brown ‘jazz box’ sunburst.

Two years later, May 2nd, 1972, I walked into Guitar Lab and Rick’s tobacco-burst was hanging on a hook on the consignment wall. I was the very first person to see it for sale. It was $650. That was about a hundred bucks over the going rate.

I didn’t hesitate a second. “It’s sold!” I yelled! Guitar Lab’s Carl Thompson had to calm me down. I made him put in the back room.

I dashed back to Brooklyn and closed my savings account. I’d been working two part-time jobs, while still a 19 year old kid living at home, expressly to be able to afford the first sunburst Les Paul that came up for sale. I had $652.80 in my account. I still even have the passbook!

For the record, I own a Gibson with a typo in the serial number. For decades, I thought I owned a 1958, the serial number being in the low 8 0700 series. Turns out that number is impossible. The first ever Les Pauls sprayed a sunburst finish were at the top of the 8 1000 series in April, 1958. That, the double creme PAF in the neck (a double black at the bridge), the small heel, the lusciously perfect full-but-non-chubby neck-profile, the specific type of wider-flamed maple used on the face (Thanks for pointing that out, Vic DaPra), all indicate that someone at the factory that day didn’t catch the mistake. This is George Gruhn’s theory as he stated in his Vintage Guitar Magazine column a few years back. My Gibson Les Paul Standard is actually a very early 1959. Shucks.  When Jeff Beck played this guitar, he wanted to buy it on the spot (see photo).

The guitar is on its fourth set of frets. The tuners were changed to Schallers in early 1970. The road rash is 50% Rick’s fault, 50% mine, and it’s bad! The only other non-original items on the guitar are the jackplate, I still have the half-destroyed original, and the G-string saddle on the Tune-o-Matic.

Interestingly, as the finish as aged these past four decades, the guitar has become subtly redder. For one thing, the clear-coat has ambered to ripe banana and I believe the brown dye has faded and the protected red under it is showing through.

With the pick guard removed you can see that there was an inch wide strip of ruby red running around the edge of the guitar and that the brown started out almost black. When I bought it, you couldn’t see the curls/flames on the cutaway bout or up by the toggle switch unless you were in direct sunlight.

The double black bridge pick up has the utterly classic PAF snarl, razor-sharp and clear-ringing at lower volumes. It sounds so much like Jimmy Page, it’s almost a little goofy.  The double-creme PAF in the neck doesn’t sound like any other humbucker I’ve ever heard. It’s much glassier than you expect from the neck position. It’s ultra-articulate. But, there is dark rumble, like a J-200 acoustic quality, on the low end that is unique. Cranked, it’s so delicious that it’s hard to switch to the bridge pick up sometimes. But, when you do, if you have both pickups in ‘goes to 11’-mode,  when you bang downward on that (authentic) butterscotch toggle, you get that one db kick in volume that feels like a Marvin Hagler left hook.

When I met Rick D a few years after he sold it to me, Rick said, wistfully, ‘Man, I beat the living shit outta that Les Paul. And it took it.”

As time has gone by, I have organically developed less a feeling of ownership and more of stewardship. I feel honored to have it my possession. The Myth of the ’59s… ummm, none of it’s myth. The best electric guitar ever made. And, yes, I have the brown pink-lined Lifton case.”

1970 Dan Armstrong Clear Body

“In the Spring of 1998, I discovered Matt Brewster’s 30th Street Guitars in Manhattan. Matt and I hit it off. I consider him a dear friend. At the time, my office was a whopping four blocks away. I was in his shop often. This helped considerably with the most fleeting and important element of rare item purchasing… Timing!

My first purchase with Matt, I traded him some gear and cash for a 1970 Dan Armstrong clear-body with the rarest of all 8 pickups designed for that guitar, the double humbucker. If all you wanted was the tone of a Godzilla Leslie West P-90, oh baby. But, that was it. A very cool one-trick-pony. The pickup is so rare that the guitar is now sitting in a glass case in the reception area of the Ampeg Company!”

1956 Chet Atkins 6120

“Less than six months later, Matt got in the nicest playing Gretsch I’ve ever had in my hands, a Brooklyn-made white-label 1956 Chet Atkins 6120, the austere “Bentley”-version without all the (silly) cows and cacti. The neck’s shape and the action and vibe are incredible for a Gretsch. It feels like a frickin’ D’Angelico. The antique DeArmonds have ‘major mojo’. In truth, I enjoy it more acoustically. It’s my one full-depth f-hole guitar and even with all the accouterment on the guitar’s face, it sounds like an f-hole acoustic. The extremely thin 4-piece-only maple body and the metal head nut and bridge make it just sizzle. For this 6120, I handed Matt back the Danny A and a 1960 Duo-Jet that was gorgeous to look at, but not to play… and a stiff chunk of cash.”

1965 Firebird III

“Next up from 30th St, is my 1965 Firebird III. At $1400, I could, at the time, afford to just outright buy this beauty. It’s the 73rd guitar Gibson made in 1965. Given their production, that could be less than 10 days into the year. My guess is that it’s one of the first five non-reverse Firebirds ever made. I have long held that the non-reverse was the weird looking version, like a 1962 Dodge Dart. The three P-90s are all yummy. Using the neck pick up for lead sounds like pure British Invasion. This Gibson had been ‘on the floor’ at Matt’s for less than 15 minutes when I walked in and saw it.”

Rickenbacker Rose-Morris 1998

“I never bothered to even fantasize about owning a Rickenbacker Rose-Morris 1998. The idea of possessing the exact export-only 6-string model Pete used for The Who’s entire first album, and the guitar he’s playing on the ultra-classic “Maximum R&B” poster, was too preposterous to contemplate. And then, one day, I walked into Matt’s shop and saw that frickin’ F-hole. Again, the guitar had been for sale for less than an hour. Built in April 1965, bought in London, this model 1998 made it into Matt’s shop via South Africa (!). The tone of the toasters on this guitar are totally different than any other Ric I’ve ever played. This guitar is a charging bull. Lead work has that odd thick/thin Ric sound. But, chords struck with some vehemence can almost go up against PAFs for sheer power. The loudest DeArmonds I’ve ever encountered. The tone is, of course, insanely Rickenbacker. Oh, and my September ’66 Mapleglo Ric 330-12 string sounds rill good, too.”

1965 Danelectro Longhorn Guitarlin

“While I was swiping these bad boys from 30th St Guitars, something I’d hankered for forever turned up on eBay. That’s where I found my 100% original 1965 Danelectro Longhorn Guitarlin. Other than several small chips on the treble-side horn, and mild, elegant weather-checking, this freakin’ stunning oddball naugahyde-rimmed ax is almost dead mint. The way they made this guitar viable from an engineering/design standpoint was to make the neck 12-string FAT! Mostly for standing in front of the mirror with, although the tone is pure lipstick-Dano.”

1968 Les Paul Custom

“As my 1959 sunburst gained more and more value, I realized I needed a back-up Les Paul. As early as the mid-80s I’d decided the best bet, the most affordable real Les Paul, would be a one piece body/one piece neck 1968 reissue black Custom. Once again, my timing was stupendous. I was in the market for a Fender Hot Rod DeVille amp. Matt had gotten one in. As we dragged it into his “Blast Room”, I asked him what he had in the shop that would most closely resemble my ’59. Matt came back with this Custom he’d bought the day before. The thing had been ridden hard and put up wet. A working musician’s tool. A slim but surprisingly deep neck. It was 100% original except for ancient Grovers. I started to play it through the DeVille and the damn thing sounded lethal. Both pickups, phenomenal. It was a one/one, but, surprisingly, an early 1969. Pots date 5268 (coincidentally, the pots on Pete’s SG Special are also 5268). I brought back an October 1967 Ric Fireglo 330 and a mint December 1964 sunburst Jazzmaster I’d bought during the year before. And more cash. Once I owned the Custom, I spent $100 each (yeah, I’m nuts!) on four authentic 1950’s black bonnet knobs. Next, my pal, Perry M. got me a 1962 gold Tune-o-Matic bridge. Man, those Nashville bridges suck. The guitar’s sustain doubled with the T-o-M. Like sick better! If any one of my guitars is just pure evil…”

1961 Epiphone Casino

“Then, fate decided to have some real fun with me. I’d totally blown it. Matt Brewster had come up with a gorgeous 4 digit 1961 Epiphone Casino. I dawdled two days and it was gone. My God, what an ass! A perfect sunburst, the introduction year, ultra-rare tortoise-shell pick guard, dot markers, bikini-plate, a luscious glassiness to the finish that rivaled every guitar I owned, except the ’59… I’d even plugged it in. The neck P-90 sounded like a piano! Damn! Damn! Damn!

Three months later, I walked into 30th St to visit a tawny 1960 PAF-ed ES350 I had put about $2,000 down on. I was about a grand from being able to take it home. As I passed the front counter, something made me turn and look up. Way up near the ceiling was that 1961 Casino. It was back! I went to Matt and said, “Take that two grand off the 350 and put it on that Casino and…” taking out a checkbook, “What do I owe you?” He was inordinately kind.”

1961 Epiphone Sheraton

“Lastly, but, at least as serendipitous as any other tale here, about 6 or 7 months after I’d scored the Casino at 30th St Guitars, there was suddenly a 5 digit late-1961 Epiphone Sheraton hanging from one of the most prominent hooks in the store. Again, a ’61?! I took it off the wall. The finish on the back of the neck was 100% worn away to raw wood from the first fret to the 15th, the entire neck. Some deadly serious working jazz guitarist has played this guitar for decades, probably 4 or 5 nights a week. The guitar had been lovingly cared for. No dings anywhere. Just playing wear and a ton of it. I had dawdled for decades on one of the top designs of all time, the Gibson 335. Now, they were mid-5-figure guitars. As I played one of the sexiest necks I’d ever had my left hand around, it hit me. This bubble-logo-ed El Dorado of an Epi by Gibson model was the closest I could ever get to a vintage 335. It was under $7,000. I traded a ton of gear and a ton of cash. This unique-tone-monster Sheraton, I’d decided, was My Last Purchase…

But, in the last 60 days, something really really cool has hit my radar. If it happens I’ll let you know…”

 

 

 

the Telecaster for six months and was loving it. I’d seen The Who for the first time, at the legendary Murray the K show in March of 1967 and Pete was playing and throwing around a twin of my Tele. I was so very proud. Then, The Who came back for a full-length show on July 8, 1967. This time, Pete completely destroyed a sunburst Stratocaster. Now I had to have a Strat. I’d heard that a tough kid named Ray had one for sale near my ghetto-located junior high school. I sold a one pick up copper-colored Jimmy Page Danelectro for $25 (I’d paid $18 for it) and my Premier reverb unit for another $25. And that was how I was able to afford a November 1957 Fender Stratocaster for fifty bucks! One day, in late 2000, I stumbled onto this yellow-gold ultra-weather-checked nitro body at 30th St Guitars. I had the bought stripped and repainted black two-piece 1957 body swapped for the gold one and had another Strat built using the 1957 body. The woodgrain on the ’57 body is the straights I’ve ever seen on any guitar. So, I kinda have almost two 1957 Strats. The gold is big and bold, the lead guitar. The black simmers with warmth, the rhythm guitar. Both sound great!”
1964 Gibson Hummingbird
“In April of 1969, the intro to “Pinball Wizard” convinced me… I had to own a steel-stringed acoustic guitar. Eight weeks later, I started an office boy summer-job at an architect firm, saving every penny for a low-budget Gibson or Guild. One day, Michael, the other ‘summer job’ kid, asked me, “So why are you working this summer?” I told him of my acoustic guitar goal. He replied, “Really? My older brother is selling his. He bought it at Manny’s around Easter time in 1964. It’s been in his closet ever since.” Just before Labor Day, I met Michael’s brother in a parking lot in Greenwich Village and handed him $175 in cash. He handed me a hardshell Gibson case with an orange-sunburst 1964 Hummingbird inside, the second most important guitar in my collection. I have approximately 120 songs lounging in the Library of Congress. I wrote over 100 of them on this Hummingbird. The tone is mythical no matter how you hit it. But, when you really crack the whip, it is the loudest acoustic guitar I’ve ever played.”
1969 Gibson SG (formerly own and thrown by Pete Townshend)
“Utterly obsessed fan that I was, I’d decided to sleep out for a full two nights under the marquee of the Fillmore East on 2nd Avenue and East 6th St. to buy tickets for The Who’s Final Performance of “Tommy” at the absurdly ostentatious and downright silly venue, The Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center.
About eight weeks later, Sunday, June 7th, 1970… It was Show Time.
The lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and Bill Graham came out of the wings, and as he always did at a Who show, solemnly intoned with his deep voice-of-authority, “Ladies and Gentlemen… on bass, Mr. John Entwistle… on lead vocals, Mr. Roger Daltrey… on drums, Mr. Keith Moon, and on guitar, Mr. Peter Townshend… Please welcome, The Who…”
Off we went!
For some reason, Pete seemed truly angry and disgusted about something. His playing reflected it. He was ferocious!
Once a wonderfully performed “Tommy” was over and done with, The Who played a few ‘oldies’ and finished up with “My Generation.” To my distinct disappointment, instead of the expected and much anticipated guitar destruction, Pete carefully leaned his Gibson SG Special against one of his Hiwatt amps without so much as one bang. The boys took their bows and left the stage.
The crowd was crazy for an encore. But, The Who had another show to do in three hours and besides, they almost never did encores. Hell, most of the time, the stage would be a shambles. But, suddenly, the lights went back down, the crowd bellowed, The Who walked back onstage.
As the roaring jam of “Shakin’ All Over” was drawing to a close, Pete snuck a quick look at me. Our eyes met. My intuition instantaneously somehow understood. I was now tingling. I could feel my breathing get quick and shallow.
While Keith and John and Roger thrashed through the big typical Who coda thing, Pete unplugged himself and walked to the edge of the stage, wrapping the strap around the guitar’s body with elaborate care. He locked eyes with me. He asked me with his body language, Are you ready?
Surrounded by friends who understood and stood back, I nodded. Pete stepped back a couple of feet, judging the distance of the orchestra pit, and in a Zen zone, tossed his SG Special high in the air.
In slow motion, it arched towards me. Gliding in, face first, I literally caught it by its two pointed cutaways. Pete’s perfect-touch toss would’ve made Joe Namath proud.
As soon as the guitar was in my arms, I looked back at Pete…
He smiled, a quick nod, his eyes saying, “Nice catch.”
The lights came up.
Many dozens of kids were charging down the aisle, absolutely intent on taking that guitar away from me.
A true mob!
Out of nowhere, one of Bill Graham’s actual real-life Hell’s Angels ushers, a tuxedo-ed 6′ 6″ linebacker with long blond Viking hair and a wandering right eye, suddenly materialized next to me.
As the hordes came charging toward me, looked down and growl/croaked, and I mean like frickin’ Lurch…
“You’ve been at every fuggin’ Who show I’ve ever ushered. NO ONE is taking that guitar from you!”
And he was true to his word…
“Back off! Mess with him, you’re messing with me. It’s his!” [highly sanitized quote]… and.. Oh, yeah, they backed off.
He then led me and my date (first time I’d ever taken a girl to see The Who… Wow, was Esther impressed!) backstage and out onto West 66th St. via what seemed a semi-secret exit.
Although it’s somewhat fragile (Pete did bang it around some before he tossed it to me), I have been playing the guitar for decades now. Plugged into a big amplifier, it sounds exactly like “Live at Leeds”. EXACTLY!”
1959 Gibson Les Paul
“I’d first seen this guitar when Ricky Derringer brought it into be repaired at Guitar Lab, the Summer of 1970. It had a small shallow inch long crack on the bass-side of the headstock by the head nut, courtesy of an airline. It was the first sunburst Les Paul I’d ever held. It glowed with vibes. And, instead of bright or fading red, it was an unexpected and compelling dark brown ‘jazz box’ sunburst.
Two years later, May 2nd, 1972, I walked into Guitar Lab and Rick’s tobacco-burst was hanging on a hook on the consignment wall. I was the very first person to see it for sale. It was $650. That was about a hundred bucks over the going rate.
I didn’t hesitate a second. “It’s sold!” I yelled! Guitar Lab’s Carl Thompson had to calm me down. I made him put in the back room.
I dashed back to Brooklyn and closed my savings account. I’d been working two part-time jobs, while still a 19 year old kid living at home, expressly to be able to afford the first sunburst Les Paul that came up for sale. I had $652.80 in my account. I still even have the passbook!
For the record, I own a Gibson with a typo in the serial number. For decades, I thought I owned a 1958, the serial number being in the low 8 0700 series. Turns out that number is impossible. The first ever Les Pauls sprayed a sunburst finish were at the top of the 8 1000 series in April, 1958. That, the double creme PAF in the neck (a double black at the bridge), the small heel, the lusciously perfect full-but-non-chubby neck-profile, the specific type of wider-flamed maple used on the face (Thanks for pointing that out, Vic DaPra), all indicate that someone at the factory that day didn’t catch the mistake. This is George Gruhn’s theory as he stated in his Vintage Guitar Magazine column a few years back. My Gibson Les Paul Standard is actually a very early 1959. Shucks. When Jeff Beck played this guitar, he wanted to buy it on the spot (see photo).
The guitar is on its fourth set of frets. The tuners were changed to Schallers in early 1970. The road rash is 50% Rick’s fault, 50% mine, and it’s bad! The only other non-original items on the guitar are the jackplate, I still have the half-destroyed original, and the G-string saddle on the Tune-o-Matic.
Interestingly, as the finish as aged these past four decades, the guitar has become subtly redder. For one thing, the clear-coat has ambered to ripe banana and I believe the brown dye has faded and the protected red under it is showing through.
With the pick guard removed you can see that there was an inch wide strip of ruby red running around the edge of the guitar and that the brown started out almost black. When I bought it, you couldn’t see the curls/flames on the cutaway bout or up by the toggle switch unless you were in direct sunlight.
The double black bridge pick up has the utterly classic PAF snarl, razor-sharp and clear-ringing at lower volumes. It sounds so much like Jimmy Page, it’s almost a little goofy. The double-creme PAF in the neck doesn’t sound like any other humbucker I’ve ever heard. It’s much glassier than you expect from the neck position. It’s ultra-articulate. But, there is dark rumble, like a J-200 acoustic quality, on the low end that is unique. Cranked, it’s so delicious that it’s hard to switch to the bridge pick up sometimes. But, when you do, if you have both pickups in ‘goes to 11’-mode, when you bang downward on that (authentic) butterscotch toggle, you get that one db kick in volume that feels like a Marvin Hagler left hook.
When I met Rick D a few years after he sold it to me, Rick said, wistfully, ‘Man, I beat the living shit outta that Les Paul. And it took it.”
As time has gone by, I have organically developed less a feeling of ownership and more of stewardship. I feel honored to have it my possession. The Myth of the ’59s… ummm, none of it’s myth. The best electric guitar ever made. And, yes, I have the brown pink-lined Lifton case.”
1970 Dan Armstrong Clear Body
“In the Spring of 1998, I discovered Matt Brewster’s 30th Street Guitars in Manhattan. Matt and I hit it off. I consider him a dear friend. At the time, my office was a whopping four blocks away. I was in his shop often. This helped considerably with the most fleeting and important element of rare item purchasing… Timing!
My first purchase with Matt, I traded him some gear and cash for a 1970 Dan Armstrong clear-body with the rarest of all 8 pickups designed for that guitar, the double humbucker. If all you wanted was the tone of a Godzilla Leslie West P-90, oh baby. But, that was it. A very cool one-trick-pony. The pickup is so rare that the guitar is now sitting in a glass case in the reception area of the Ampeg Company!”
1956 Chet Atkins 6120
“Less than six months later, Matt got in the nicest playing Gretsch I’ve ever had in my hands, a Brooklyn-made white-label 1956 Chet Atkins 6120, the austere “Bentley”-version without all the (silly) cows and cacti. The neck’s shape and the action and vibe are incredible for a Gretsch. It feels like a frickin’ D’Angelico. The antique DeArmonds have ‘major mojo’. In truth, I enjoy it more acoustically. It’s my one full-depth f-hole guitar and even with all the accouterment on the guitar’s face, it sounds like an f-hole acoustic. The extremely thin 4-piece-only maple body and the metal head nut and bridge make it just sizzle. For this 6120, I handed Matt back the Danny A and a 1960 Duo-Jet that was gorgeous to look at, but not to play… and a stiff chunk of cash.”
1965 Firebird III
“Next up from 30th St, is my 1965 Firebird III. At $1400, I could, at the time, afford to just outright buy this beauty. It’s the 73rd guitar Gibson made in 1965. Given their production, that could be less than 10 days into the year. My guess is that it’s one of the first five non-reverse Firebirds ever made. I have long held that the non-reverse was the weird looking version, like a 1962 Dodge Dart. The three P-90s are all yummy. Using the neck pick up for lead sounds like pure British Invasion. This Gibson had been ‘on the floor’ at Matt’s for less than 15 minutes when I walked in and saw it.”
Rickenbacker Rose-Morris 1998
“I never bothered to even fantasize about owning a Rickenbacker Rose-Morris 1998. The idea of possessing the exact export-only 6-string model Pete used for The Who’s entire first album, and the guitar he’s playing on the ultra-classic “Maximum R&B” poster, was too preposterous to contemplate. And then, one day, I walked into Matt’s shop and saw that frickin’ F-hole. Again, the guitar had been for sale for less than an hour. Built in April 1965, bought in London, this model 1998 made it into Matt’s shop via South Africa (!). The tone of the toasters on this guitar are totally different than any other Ric I’ve ever played. This guitar is a charging bull. Lead work has that odd thick/thin Ric sound. But, chords struck with some vehemence can almost go up against PAFs for sheer power. The loudest DeArmonds I’ve ever encountered. The tone is, of course, insanely Rickenbacker. Oh, and my September ’66 Mapleglo Ric 330-12 string sounds rill good, too.”
1965 Danelectro Longhorn Guitarlin
“While I was swiping these bad boys from 30th St Guitars, something I’d hankered for forever turned up on eBay. That’s where I found my 100% original 1965 Danelectro Longhorn Guitarlin. Other than several small chips on the treble-side horn, and mild, elegant weather-checking, this freakin’ stunning oddball naugahyde-rimmed ax is almost dead mint. The way they made this guitar viable from an engineering/design standpoint was to make the neck 12-string FAT! Mostly for standing in front of the mirror with, although the tone is pure lipstick-Dano.”
1968 Les Paul Custom
“As my 1959 sunburst gained more and more value, I realized I needed a back-up Les Paul. As early as the mid-80s I’d decided the best bet, the most affordable real Les Paul, would be a one piece body/one piece neck 1968 reissue black Custom. Once again, my timing was stupendous. I was in the market for a Fender Hot Rod DeVille amp. Matt had gotten one in. As we dragged it into his “Blast Room”, I asked him what he had in the shop that would most closely resemble my ’59. Matt came back with this Custom he’d bought the day before. The thing had been ridden hard and put up wet. A working musician’s tool. A slim but surprisingly deep neck. It was 100% original except for ancient Grovers. I started to play it through the DeVille and the damn thing sounded lethal. Both pickups, phenomenal. It was a one/one, but, surprisingly, an early 1969. Pots date 5268 (coincidentally, the pots on Pete’s SG Special are also 5268). I brought back an October 1967 Ric Fireglo 330 and a mint December 1964 sunburst Jazzmaster I’d bought during the year before. And more cash. Once I owned the Custom, I spent $100 each (yeah, I’m nuts!) on four authentic 1950’s black bonnet knobs. Next, my pal, Perry M. got me a 1962 gold Tune-o-Matic bridge. Man, those Nashville bridges suck. The guitar’s sustain doubled with the T-o-M. Like sick better! If any one of my guitars is just pure evil…”
1961 Epiphone Casino
“Then, fate decided to have some real fun with me. I’d totally blown it. Matt Brewster had come up with a gorgeous 4 digit 1961 Epiphone Casino. I dawdled two days and it was gone. My God, what an ass! A perfect sunburst, the introduction year, ultra-rare tortoise-shell pick guard, dot markers, bikini-plate, a luscious glassiness to the finish that rivaled every guitar I owned, except the ’59… I’d even plugged it in. The neck P-90 sounded like a piano! Damn! Damn! Damn!
Three months later, I walked into 30th St to visit a tawny 1960 PAF-ed ES350 I had put about $2,000 down on. I was about a grand from being able to take it home. As I passed the front counter, something made me turn and look up. Way up near the ceiling was that 1961 Casino. It was back! I went to Matt and said, “Take that two grand off the 350 and put it on that Casino and…” taking out a checkbook, “What do I owe you?” He was inordinately kind.”
1961 Epiphone Sheraton
“Lastly, but, at least as serendipitous as any other tale here, about 6 or 7 months after I’d scored the Casino at 30th St Guitars, there was suddenly a 5 digit late-1961 Epiphone Sheraton hanging from one of the most prominent hooks in the store. Again, a ’61?! I took it off the wall. The finish on the back of the neck was 100% worn away to raw wood from the first fret to the 15th, the entire neck. Some deadly serious working jazz guitarist has played this guitar for decades, probably 4 or 5 nights a week. The guitar had been lovingly cared for. No dings anywhere. Just playing wear and a ton of it. I had dawdled for decades on one of the top designs of all time, the Gibson 335. Now, they were mid-5-figure guitars. As I played one of the sexiest necks I’d ever had my left hand around, it hit me. This bubble-logo-ed El Dorado of an Epi by Gibson model was the closest I could ever get to a vintage 335. It was under $7,000. I traded a ton of gear and a ton of cash. This unique-tone-monster Sheraton, I’d decided, was My Last Purchase…
But, in the last 60 days, something really really cool has hit my radar. If it happens I’ll let you know…”

 

 

Tom Guerra