Dan Armstrong User Review - Mike B.
It was 1983. I was in Philadelphia in a band called The Tone Controls, playing a mixture of rock 'n' roll, reggae, country, blues and mystery pop - during the time of new wave and synth tracks.
We were posing as authentic, chasing an elusive retro gesture with every amp setting, drum riff, guitar and piece of stage clothing. Our lead guitarist, a water and fire spirit named Alicia, played a Strat through a brown Fender Deluxe. Jonathan, on bass, played Precision through a V4. Settled in at stage left near Chris (the drummer we called "Crisp"), I played rhythm to save my life. At first, I used a Les Paul Special through an ancient Fender Super, rescued from someone's attic. It had a ripped grill and a cool purple pilot light, but gave up the ghost after a few gigs. So I went to Zapf's music store, in greater northeast Philly, and found an Ampeg VT-40, which went perfectly with our ethos: no master volume, ever. The only acceptable distortions were power tube, speaker and ear - in that order. "Waves of sound to engulf eager heads with."
But something was missing. Ten years before, a re-broadcast of "Gimme Shelter" had changed my life. I had grown up playing classical violin, avoiding rock (with one ear). Suddenly, I heard a beautiful, resonant, sustained guitar tone coming out of my TV speaker, and thought "I must learn how to make that sound." But years of garage bands went by, with the guitars either too fuzzy or too sharp and clear - no magical sound. I gradually learned how to play guitar, on a Tele, a Mustang, or whatever I could borrow - but something was missing . . .
The Special was very cool, but I sold it to buy a worn Custom (a factory second) from a kid in South Jersey. The humbuckers were definitely part of the story . . . but I had another problem. Like Keith, I had made open tunings a part of my playing, and I needed to have two guitars to avoid re-tuning on stage. So I found myself back at Zapf's, looking over the guitars with my girlfriend - when I saw it. Hanging on the wall, the essence of rock 'n' roll. Instant flashback to "Gimme Shelter" - red stage light shining through it to reflect off Keith's Nudie shirt. I stepped closer. The Formica headstock and pickguard: what decade are we in, the 50s? 60s? Let me try that one, please. The sound? Well, not the holy grail; not loud enough in the store, of course. But no question about the midrange, that little 3 kHz drill right into my head. "You interested?" "Yeah - you never see these, do you?" I think I paid $300.
So: Dan Armstrong through Ampeg VT-40. I was in paradise, and Chris was digging it too, in his good left ear. It absolutely cut through anything the band could put out, driving that amazing Ampeg EQ (setting #2, 3 o'clock) to just the right distortion. But I soon discovered the challenge of the original rosewood bridge (mine would tend to slide slightly along the polished bridge plate, an early model). So I found a luthier at 21st and South, a craftsman who built beautiful acoustic instruments. He took one look at the Dan, and said "I can make a bridge for this thing for $50." I left the guitar in his care.
When I came back to pick it up, I saw that he had made something really cool: a carved aluminum bridge, properly intonated, and machine screwed to the bridge plate through two holes he had tapped (I know - not a collector's item anymore). He had set it up perfectly for slide, which is what I was playing a lot of, with medium to high action. Over the next few gigs, I quickly found that this worked for regular rhythm as well, with the chunkiest possible sound from Ernie Ball 10s. This Dan, and the old Custom, were my stage guitars for the rest of the band (my shoulders were stronger then) . . .
Later, living in New York and short on cash, I sold this one-of-a-kind instrument to We Buy Guitars on 48th Street - for $300 (I know, I know). It's out there somewhere, waiting to be included in the Registry, I hope. Wherever you are, friend and lover, I hope you are played and loved. Get your owner to send in a picture or two. By the way, he or she will know it's you, not just by your aluminum bridge, but by this: take off your pickguard, and written on the end of the neck in tiny handwriting are the words "No Good" - a factory second!
Michael Bedrosian
The Left Hand Set
We were posing as authentic, chasing an elusive retro gesture with every amp setting, drum riff, guitar and piece of stage clothing. Our lead guitarist, a water and fire spirit named Alicia, played a Strat through a brown Fender Deluxe. Jonathan, on bass, played Precision through a V4. Settled in at stage left near Chris (the drummer we called "Crisp"), I played rhythm to save my life. At first, I used a Les Paul Special through an ancient Fender Super, rescued from someone's attic. It had a ripped grill and a cool purple pilot light, but gave up the ghost after a few gigs. So I went to Zapf's music store, in greater northeast Philly, and found an Ampeg VT-40, which went perfectly with our ethos: no master volume, ever. The only acceptable distortions were power tube, speaker and ear - in that order. "Waves of sound to engulf eager heads with."
But something was missing. Ten years before, a re-broadcast of "Gimme Shelter" had changed my life. I had grown up playing classical violin, avoiding rock (with one ear). Suddenly, I heard a beautiful, resonant, sustained guitar tone coming out of my TV speaker, and thought "I must learn how to make that sound." But years of garage bands went by, with the guitars either too fuzzy or too sharp and clear - no magical sound. I gradually learned how to play guitar, on a Tele, a Mustang, or whatever I could borrow - but something was missing . . .
The Special was very cool, but I sold it to buy a worn Custom (a factory second) from a kid in South Jersey. The humbuckers were definitely part of the story . . . but I had another problem. Like Keith, I had made open tunings a part of my playing, and I needed to have two guitars to avoid re-tuning on stage. So I found myself back at Zapf's, looking over the guitars with my girlfriend - when I saw it. Hanging on the wall, the essence of rock 'n' roll. Instant flashback to "Gimme Shelter" - red stage light shining through it to reflect off Keith's Nudie shirt. I stepped closer. The Formica headstock and pickguard: what decade are we in, the 50s? 60s? Let me try that one, please. The sound? Well, not the holy grail; not loud enough in the store, of course. But no question about the midrange, that little 3 kHz drill right into my head. "You interested?" "Yeah - you never see these, do you?" I think I paid $300.
So: Dan Armstrong through Ampeg VT-40. I was in paradise, and Chris was digging it too, in his good left ear. It absolutely cut through anything the band could put out, driving that amazing Ampeg EQ (setting #2, 3 o'clock) to just the right distortion. But I soon discovered the challenge of the original rosewood bridge (mine would tend to slide slightly along the polished bridge plate, an early model). So I found a luthier at 21st and South, a craftsman who built beautiful acoustic instruments. He took one look at the Dan, and said "I can make a bridge for this thing for $50." I left the guitar in his care.
When I came back to pick it up, I saw that he had made something really cool: a carved aluminum bridge, properly intonated, and machine screwed to the bridge plate through two holes he had tapped (I know - not a collector's item anymore). He had set it up perfectly for slide, which is what I was playing a lot of, with medium to high action. Over the next few gigs, I quickly found that this worked for regular rhythm as well, with the chunkiest possible sound from Ernie Ball 10s. This Dan, and the old Custom, were my stage guitars for the rest of the band (my shoulders were stronger then) . . .
Later, living in New York and short on cash, I sold this one-of-a-kind instrument to We Buy Guitars on 48th Street - for $300 (I know, I know). It's out there somewhere, waiting to be included in the Registry, I hope. Wherever you are, friend and lover, I hope you are played and loved. Get your owner to send in a picture or two. By the way, he or she will know it's you, not just by your aluminum bridge, but by this: take off your pickguard, and written on the end of the neck in tiny handwriting are the words "No Good" - a factory second!
Michael Bedrosian
The Left Hand Set