31 May 2026

May 2026 – Zen and the Art of Vintage Guitar Photography

by CRAVEGuitars | posted in: Introduction, Observations, Opinion | 0

Prelude

HELLO THERE OR, IN ANCIENT ENGLISH PARLANCE, hail, what do ye, hwæt, wilcuma, godne dag, how fare ye, be thou healthy, and hāl. I thought I’d run out of pretentious greetings. Not this month. I will do my best to keep things simple for the rest of this tremendously tantalising tome. It also seems to me that a lengthy introduction is largely superfluous, so I’ll keep the preamble short and get onto the subject matter sooner rather than later for once. Wonders will cease… just not yet.

It seems that no‑one is taking heed of my passionate campaign for peace & love in the tortuous trials of 21^st Century Earth, so I won’t waste any more time on it this month. It seems hate has conquered love, at least for now. Bad news for everyone. I won’t stop hoping for a better world, though, with or without people. For the sake of the 7.8 million (at least) other species that inhabit Earth, life without people would probably be a good thing.

This Month at CRAVE Guitars…

Altogether now, “Say cheese”! (NB. A phrase that first appeared in 1943, popularised by American ambassador to the Soviet Union, Joseph E. Davies (1876‑1958)). “Click!” Get the picture? This article – as signposted by the title – is dedicated to the ‘art’ of photographing vintage guitar gear. Predominantly, from the author’s perspective, that means guitars. I don’t do this from the position of a professional photographer and I don’t claim to have the skills required to produce world class photographs.

I have had an interest in photography (and art) since I was a teenager, some few decades ago now, and I am familiar with the basic principles. As a result, I am clearly not qualified to provide much in the way of hints and tips about how to do things better. This is therefore not an instruction manual! If you want a ‘how to’ guide, there are a few web sites that impart some of their dark secrets. I have no secrets (dark or otherwise), silver bullets (NB. a good thing) and no magic wand (Harry stole it). What I can do, though, is to relate my experience of photographing guitars over a number of years, and that alone may (or may not) prove insightful. As for the Zen bit of the article’s title, although photographing vintage guitars is essentially a practical application of repetitive technique, I approach creative outcomes with a certain meditative and philosophical frame of mind practiced in the here and now. I think.

I do this from the standpoint of a complete amateur trying his best to capture the visual essence of what makes vintage guitars visually so unique and desirable. For once, I’m not delving into the realm of playing guitars (I’m OK‑ishly proficient at best), neither am I exploring the sounds produced by guitars (I’m not obsessed with searching for the ‘holy grail’ of tone). This is primarily about their visual appearance. As you probably know, I enjoy the whole experience of vintage guitar gear to the point of obsession and addiction. Photographic imagery is my way to share this fascination with others. Personally, I see this as an important and integral part of my mission to spread the CRAVE Guitars’ word.

“There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs” – Ansel Adams (1902‑1984)

A photo is just a photo, isn’t it? Photographing guitars is easy, right? One might think so. Guitars don’t have unpredictable human temperament (you don’t have to make them pose or smile) and they (generally) stay where you put them. There are no time constraints on any stage of the procedure (they don’t get tired or need cups of tea!). True on all three counts. As static photo models go, the methodology should prove smooth and stress‑free. As is so often the case, though, doing something well requires a bit more diligence than the basic notion might otherwise suggest.

While it may seem uncomplicated prima facie, photographing guitars well is actually not as straightforward as one might think. It’s not just a case of pointing a lens at them and the job is done. Nope. Nowhere close. To take photos with any sort of consistent competence requires time, effort and a modicum of acquired ability. To do it exceptionally, requires a highly proficient skillset (I can only assume that latter point, seeing as I cannot demonstrate such proficiency!). I believe my photographic ability lies somewhere along the continuum from hopeless to expert, probably in the area of basic competency and rudimentary adequacy. Quite possibly, my talents lie somewhere else altogether. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to pay for professional photos, so basic and rudimentary will have to do.

Despite the title of the article, this topic isn’t just about CRAVE Guitars, it is also about CRAVE Basses, CRAVE Effects and CRAVE Amps. However, it is the guitars that I am most familiar with and on which the main focus (sic!) of this article will be based.

As usual, no AI has been used for anything this month (other than the image of prehistoric Rock God that is The CRAVEman in his section near the end of the article). This month’s plentiful ‘quotes of wisdom’ are about the art of photography.

“What I like about photographs is that they capture a moment that’s gone forever, impossible to reproduce” – Karl Lagerfeld (1933‑2019)

The Rationale for the Article

Strangely, given the number of photographs I have used over the years to showcase CRAVE Guitars, I think this is the first time that I have ventured any opinion on the subject matter. It is time to change that apparent omission, methinks.

I have always enjoyed taking photographs right from my first Kodak Instamatic in the late 1960s up to my original Olympus OM‑2, a great go‑to 35mm SLR of the late 1970s and 1980s. I also took photography as part of an art foundation college course, also in the late 1970s, so I have a bit of history with it comes to taking pictures, even if only as a youthful enthusiastic lay person. Even then, my creative instincts always went beyond just taking casual point‑and‑shoot holiday snaps and I was always trying to see deeper into subject matter. The cost and inconvenience of film stock was always a limitation for me at the time. Digital photography has proved to be a revolution and a revelation, which has finally come of age. I have, in the past, used Sony and Nikon digital cameras to good effect, although I’ve never been a fan of Canon.

So… why look into the process of capturing the aesthetics of vintage guitars this month? The trigger came in feedback to a social media post of a headstock close up photo. The comment basically said, “I hadn’t noticed that in the photo of the whole guitar”. So, here we are, looking into that thought in more detail. This then led onto a series of more practical‑style close up photos of components that stood out for me. It was then a short step to thinking less about the guitars themselves and more about drawing out some of the elements that set vintage guitars apart from their modern counterparts. In effect, all I am doing is accentuating the expert industrial design that went into the creation of the instruments in the first place. I am just a middle‑man; the familiar archetypal designs have already been in existence for decades. I am just a mechanism for emphasising some of them for enjoyment.

“A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed” – Ansel Adams (1902‑1984)

I will state at this point that there are many, many people who take far, far better photographs than I will ever produce. However, that sad fact doesn’t prevent me from trying. My skills are very lacking and it is a frustrating exercise to produce something that I feel is barely adequate enough to share on social media and on the web site. I am not qualified or trained in the art, although I would have liked to have been. I am always keen to improve my ability, although not in a structured academic way. I like taking photographs of many things, not just guitars. I think I just about have a ‘good eye’ for images, developed more out of curiosity, rather than educated technique. I will say that taking good photographs comes from patience and persistence and has little or nothing to do with fancy photographic equipment. Good photo gear might make things easier though.

As far as I can tell, my first stab at photographing vintage guitars in a systematic way was in early c.2002 when I recorded ‘portraits’ of the guitars I had at the time, including ones that I have owned for the longest period (since c.1978), the 1975 Gibson Les Paul Standard and the 1977 Fender Stratocaster. The images predate my interest in vintage guitars and the formation of CRAVE (Cool & Rare American Vintage Electric) Guitars in mid‑2007. Here are the 2002 images, I think you’ll agree, things have moved along in the last quarter century…

At the time of writing, I do not have or use any professional photography equipment. The camera that I use is a humble iPhone, albeit the best that I can afford. My current ‘camera’ is an Apple iPhone 17 Pro Max, which I bought mainly for its camera capability, not for any other reason. To‑date, I have not supplemented the iPhone with any accessories or equipment to make the process easier or better. I currently only use natural light, as I don’t have access to any studio lighting equipment. The backdrops I use are what I have to hand – floorboards, a (too) small American flag and an old duvet cover (CRAVE’s go‑to purple satin background). I don’t have any fancy purpose‑built tripods, frames, stands, lights or backgrounds. I take hand held photos in the house’s run‑of‑the‑mill living space, nothing at all that could be described as specialised or fit‑for‑purpose. That’s it. Absolutely nothing exceptional. A lot can be achieved with everyday items and a bit of ingenuity. Photography definitely doesn’t have to be elitist and expensive in 2026. Thankfully.

“Creativity is a wild mind and a disciplined eye” – Dorothy Parker (1893‑1967)

The key for me is to create a consistent, and hopefully, easily identifiable, look. The overall presentational style is all part of the carefully crafted CRAVE Guitars brand image with all the elements intended to work in synergy. I try hard not to do anything that diverges from the core ‘brand’. I have an image (sic!) to protect after all. At this point, I have to state that all CRAVE Guitars’ photographs are copyrighted with ‘all rights reserved’ and unauthorised use of them is prohibited. Take note image thieves.

The aim of CRAVE Guitars’ photography is not to produce lasting gallery‑worthy artistic images, to record newsworthy events or to generate income. Those won’t be my legacy. CRAVE Guitars’ aim is far more quotidian; partly to document the object and partly an attempt to convey some of the object’s physical characteristics in the best possible way. If this can be done in a visually attractive way, all the better. However, the patience and discipline needed to obtain the best image possible is a fundamental basis for both aesthetic and documentary photography. That doesn’t mean that one can’t have fun with reality and use a little creative expression to add ‘un soupçon du je ne sais quoi’ to complement the basic pictures once in a while.

“All the technique in the world doesn’t compensate for the inability to notice” – Elliott Erwitt (1928‑2023)

Some Basic Photographic Underpinnings

The word photography derives from the Greek, meaning ‘drawing of light’. The modern use of the word is widely attributed to English astronomer Sir John Herschel (1792‑1871) from 1839.

The very earliest form of image projection was the pinhole camera or camera obscura and may date as far back as the 4^th Century BCE in both Greece and China. The camera obscura led to the development of lenses to control focus (image sharpness) and diaphragms to control aperture (amount of light entering the camera) in the 16^th Century. The box‑type camera obscura was used as the basis for experimentation in the development of the first photographic cameras.

The photographic process depends on two basic steps; the first is to use a device to expose an image onto a light sensitive surface, while the second is to develop and fix (store) the image permanently. Those basics have held true from the earliest experiments to today’s technologically advanced digital cameras.

The earliest surviving photograph dates to 1826, captured by Nicéphore Niépce (1765‑1833) using a process called heliography. It was Louis Daguerre (1787‑1851) that developed the first commercially available photographic plate process, the daguerreotype. At the time, all images captured were monochrome. Photographic film became available from 1888, invented by George Eastman (1854‑1932). The first mass‑market Kodak Brownie camera appeared in 1901. Colour photography, invented by Auguste and Louis Lumière, was made commercially available in 1907. Colour slide film was introduced by Eastman Kodak with Kodachrome in 1935 and Ektachrome in the 1940s. Kodak discontinued slide film production in 2009 following the rise of digital photography.

While the first digital image was produced in 1920, digital photography really began with the development of the charge‑coupled device (CCD) invented at the Bell Laboratory in 1969. A CCD was used to capture images electronically and store the resulting file in computer memory. The CCD provided the archetype for today’s digital camera sensors, which now use active pixel sensors (APS) developed by Olympus. It wasn’t until 1986 that Kodak developed the first megapixel (one million pixel) solid state image sensors, with Nikon leading the innovation.

While CMOS (Complementary Metal Oxide Semiconductor) is the current sensor of choice (in 2026), the future of digital photography may lie in ultra‑high performance ‘gigajot’ QIS (Quanta Image Sensor) able to resolve down to a single photon of light.

Digital photography has led to global democratisation of electronic imagery in the 21^st Century. An example of this is Google Images. It has also been a stimulus to so‑called ‘citizen journalism’ – ordinary individuals reporting news events to a mass audience without being a formal press journalist. Digital images are now the standard form of photographic process in 2026.

There are basically three general forms of professional photography:

Photojournalism – documenting important cultural, political and social stories and events for posterity
Commercial photography – marketable commissioned products for business and private clients
Art photography – translating an artist’s vision and creativity for aesthetic appreciation

There are plenty of sub‑genres of photography, many of which overlap and merge. Familiar examples include: portrait, wedding, landscape, wildlife, macro, abstract, street, travel, lifestyle, product, fashion, advertising, event and scientific photography, amongst many others. These sub‑genres are generally specific and exclude the whole raft of everyday family and holiday snaps. It is the diversity of styles that makes photography such a popular pastime for many people around the globe.

In addition to the professional types, the vast majority of photographs are taken by hobbyist amateurs and are generally for reminiscence and nostalgia, rather than for profitable or artistic ends. CRAVE Guitars photography probably fits in this broad catch‑all category. I do, however, try hard not to produce a multitude of below‑par run‑of‑the‑mill images. Any merit in CRAVE Guitars’ images is for others to judge.

Some of the world’s best spontaneous photographs that capture an ephemeral historical moment require the photographer to be in the right place at the right time with a camera always at the ready. Fortunately, CRAVE Guitars has the benefit of being able to control and choose every step of the process. And I still get to mess up!

“To photograph is to put on the same line of sight the head, the eye and the heart” – Henri Cartier‑Bresson (1908‑2004)

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

THE GOOD is very easy to determine and I hope blindingly obvious – good subject matter. One thing I love about vintage guitars is that they are (mostly) just gorgeous objects as well as great musical instruments. When the items are amazingly beautiful vintage guitars, it makes things simpler and I strongly believe that the guitars themselves distract from any shortcomings in my ability to photograph them. I am pretty sure that many top photographers will attest to the importance of what is being photographed more than the tools used to capture them or the skill of the person pressing the shutter release. The only saving grace is that I now have some experience behind me, which has improved the outcomes over a considerable period since at least 2002. It is an incremental improvement and not always entirely successful. A ‘good eye’ can only get one so far without needing inspiration allied to technical ability and adequate equipment in order to excel.

A look at any of the relevant magazines and Internet sites shows what can be achieved. Most of what is out there, though, concentrates on showing new guitar gear in its best light (sic!) for marketing use. Vintage guitars, simply by their existence today, show their innate character, their idiosyncrasies and their scars of a lifetime of playing music. They are far from perfect – some seem relatively untouched while others are battered and bruised. To me that variety is part of their attraction.

No two vintage instruments are identical under scrutiny. I am not in the occupation of acquiring museum‑grade, sterile examples that are so valuable that one is too afraid to use them. I love the genuine articles showing their sometimes graceful and sometimes ungraceful, genuine aging (not the modern trend of fake ‘relic’ guitars). I have said it before (many times) and I’ll say it again. I believe in the Japanese concept of wabi sabi, that something can be, ‘perfect because of an object’s imperfections’. It is that quintessence that I’m trying to capture as much as their inherent design characteristics. The guitars themselves may not be able to tell any stories but they sure bear the signs of having lived as part of many stories.

Gallery of Acceptable Images – One for the ‘good’ pile. Just about. Each of these still have issues (note the crease in the American flag!) Sometimes things work out OK and the unadulterated image outcome is, well, OK. If the image ‘pops’ and flatters the guitar, then I’ll let it past quality control. They may still not be perfect (nothing is) but they are generally… OK.

Gallery of Close Up Images – Seeing the whole guitar is one thing and is the main thing that people probably want to see most. However, sometimes, it is nice to pick out a detailed element of a guitar and make it into the main subject of a photograph. Sometimes, the details can prove fascinating and possibly overlooked within the context of the whole instrument.

“For me, the subject of the picture is always more important than the picture” – Diane Arbus (1923‑1971)

THE BAD is also relatively straightforward. Guitars are not the easiest of things to pose without it being blooming obvious that something is being used to position guitars in a way that makes the image capture easier. There are some accepted ways of showing guitars off, such as guitar hangers. These are OK but make a total mess of photographing the neck/headstock area or the instrument as a whole. Guitar stands have the same drawback, particularly getting in the way of guitar bodies. Try positioning most guitars horizontally such that the neck is not out of whack and see how tricky it is, especially so that there is nothing to make it look ‘wrong’. Even when the overall positioning is as good as one can get it, getting the right angles to photograph ‘bits’ of the guitar well can be a minefield. Try sketching a guitar at various angles and you’ll see how difficult it is to get the proportions and perspectives looking ‘right’. I would like to invent some form of contraption that could allow one to position a guitar accurately for photography while also not being visible. If there is a trick to this, I’ve missed it so far.

There are a couple of other considerations here. One is the use of natural light; one has to pick the right ‘quality’ of light. Dull but relatively bright is best to minimise intrusive contrast between highlights and shadows. Non-direct light sources generally scatter visible light photons better. Bright sunshine is too harsh for guitar photography. Too dark and the subtleties are lost. Another consideration is that ordinary shadows produced by things in the environment and/or the camera/photographer can intrude and aren’t always obvious. Sometimes, if there is a similarity of colour or contrast in the setting, the form of the object can be concealed, particularly in the darker areas. Not good when the shape of a guitar is important to the final composition. Sometimes, these things can be foreseen but sometimes it only becomes clear later on in the process. Necessary re‑shoots are a pain but inevitable.

Eagle‑eyed onlookers may spot some vintage dust in some images. I don’t have a problem with showing that these are used, played and, while well‑maintained, and are unashamed to be presented in that way. New guitars are, in my opinion, like new cars, overly pristine (yes, even the heinous ‘reliced’ instruments). “Hold the front page!” CRAVE Guitars are decades old and brandish their wear, tear, scars, flaws and tarnish proudly (even with specks of rust and dust). I’ve put this particular aspect under ‘bad’ for those who may see such blemishes as neglect and abuse. Not so. Such things are all part of their authentic vintage character, ageing naturally. It is also a bit of an intentional middle‑finger to the abhorrent ‘collecterati’ who demand perfection commensurate with their detestable dollar. Heck, people will pay good money for vintage dust!

“To me, photography is an art of observation. It’s about finding something interesting in an ordinary place…I’ve found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them” – Elliott Erwitt (1928‑2023)

THE UGLY is probably the bane of all photographers attempting to make guitars look their best. Most guitars have glossy finishes or parts that reflect light. Yup, the one major thing that can make an otherwise OK photograph unusable is reflections. Given that I use natural light in an ordinary room using a hand held smart phone camera, reflections are, frankly, a complete pain in the ass. While one can try to minimise reflections (at best – they are hard to eradicate completely) using angles, it isn’t always possible without messing up the composition. Proportions can be thrown totally out – for instance ugly foreshortening or distorted angles/perspectives – all caused by just a small change in angle. Chrome or gold plated pickup covers and control plates can be a nightmare. One can quite easily miss an annoying reflection during a shoot, only to realise how bad it is afterwards. Reflections are generally of two types; one can be the light itself (bright highlights) or it can be other things in the room that get reflected in a finish. Sometimes, given my totally amateur approach, I just have to put up with some light/reflection anomalies. Look close enough at most CRAVE Guitars’ photographs and you can see lighting reflection problems. Most other things are easier to solve compared to this ugly and frustrating phenomenon. Once noticed, one cannot not see it. Non‑reflective and free‑standing gear like effect pedals and amplifiers are far easier to photograph.

Below are some montages brought together to demonstrate some of the things discussed above. As far as the ‘monstrosities’ are concerned, once spotted, one cannot unsee them and they crop up just about everywhere. For two of the examples, I’m showing ‘before’ and ‘after’ versions, so you can view the originals then they’ve been marked up to emphasise the (worst) issues, in true before & after, ‘spot the difference’ fashion.

Gallery of Monstrosities: Light Problems – This definitely falls into the ‘ugly’ category. Light is needed for photographs but light reflections should not encroach onto the subject such that it distracts the eye. I have ringed the problems, as if they aren’t already obvious.

Gallery of Monstrosities – Light Problems Before

Gallery of Monstrosities – Light Problems After

Gallery of Monstrosities: Dark Problems – Also definitely ‘ugly’. This is the close relative of light reflections. This time, it’s not light but objects of any sort, including backgrounds that are reflected and, again, intrude onto the subject and distract the eye. Again, ringed for emphasis.

Gallery of Monstrosities Dark Problems Before

Gallery of Monstrosities Dark Problems After

Gallery of Monstrosities: Contrast Problems – One for the ‘bad’. Sometimes, when trying to accentuate something, one ends up obscuring something else in the process. Over or under exposure can be interesting but it can also be highly irritating.

“My ultimate goal is to try to make the ordinary look extraordinary” – Martin Parr (1952‑2025)

On a Technical Note

As mentioned above, a lot can be achieved with a little. Overcoming the hurdles of the good, the bad and the ugly is one thing. However, so far, everything has been up to the point of ‘pressing the shutter’ and the image is captured by the camera’s sensor. We are in the 21^st Century and despite the enduring nostalgia for genuine film (now the pictorial equivalent of vinyl records), we are generally talking about digital photography here.

One of the huge advantages of digital photography is that one can take unlimited photos and review them instantly, discarding the obviously bad ones and retaining the best. Digital is also cheaper per image than film can ever be. Another big bonus of digital photography is that it makes exposure so much easier than in the old days. Things like automatic shutter speed, aperture, ISO sensitivity, depth‑of‑field, under/over exposure, etc. are less critical than they once were, making it harder for people to take a ‘bad’ photograph, at least as far as exposure goes. In this case electronic automation can be a blessing. It does, though, make it harder to raise the bar, which I endeavour, albeit falteringly, to achieve.

One thing that I have learned is to see (not look at) what needs to be incorporated and what needs to be omitted long before one picks up a camera (phone), which includes not only the objects in the frame (foreground and background) but also what is in the environment that can impact on the result. Once one learns to see and visualise the outcome, then that is the time to pick up the camera.

A great deal is made of camera sensor resolution. In reality, it isn’t just the number of megapixels that matter, it is the quality of the lenses, the way that the circuits process the image including things like focal length, dynamic range, image cropping, focusing, tracking, ‘shutter’ speed, contrast, sensitivity, noise, colour accuracy and compression. Digital zoom is just horrible, a good physical zoom lens is so much better. In old school 35mm photography a standard focal length lens is 50mm. Less than 50mm is wide angle, more than 50mm is telephoto. For guitar photography a slight telephoto focal length equivalent to 70‑80mm is ideal, essentially the same principle as for portrait photography.

Higher pixel count means larger file sizes, which can be an issue for social media and web pages. As things stand in 2026, a 12 megapixel image is more than good enough for general efficiency and efficacy. A 24 megapixel or higher image is better where fine detail and/or large image sizes matter. Unprocessed RAW images (so‑called digital negatives) are not a priority in this context unless one is aiming to produce professional standard results. As a rule, you can’t add in pixels that aren’t there in the first place, so it makes sense to adopt the best sensor resolution possible for the task at hand.

“If your pictures aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough” – Robert Capa (1913‑1954)

Post‑Processing

One unavoidable and essential aspect of the photographic process in the 21^st Century is digitally altering an image after it has been taken. In the olden days, it used to be done in a darkroom with limited facilities for creativity. Digital post‑processing can be a wonderful creative tool. It can also be an image saver if some unforeseen artefact wasn’t picked up in the shoot. However, it can also easily be a potential disaster area in the making. Nowadays, many people snap lazy images and then spend hours using software in an attempt to recover something from a bad photo and, in some cases, they then go on to make it even worse! A central tenet of quality assurance is, ‘get it right first time, every time’ (GIRFTET). Adopting a GIRFTET method makes everything that follows much simpler. Such an approach reduces errors, improves quality and consistency, shortens process time, and enables continuous improvement.

Post‑processing, to me, falls into two broad categories; the first as a functional tool to fix minor errors and correct small artefacts, and the second as a creative tool to effect the whole image intentionally and to change it substantially from the original. One thing to consider, is that it is a very, very good idea to keep the original unaltered image and then work on a copy as, once an image has been bastardised, it can be very difficult to revert back. Keeping an original copy means one can easily start over if need be. Following a step‑by‑step methodology also helps – varying too much in one go is a recipe for a mess.

Once the image has been captured and stored, it can easily be transferred to a laptop and, if necessary, manipulated in photo/graphics software to make it more usable. Once again, I don’t have professional software to manage and/or manipulate digital images of guitars. Popular packages such as Adobe Photoshop or Corel PaintShop Pro are available to those who want to pursue post‑processing seriously. For me, I can’t justify the subscription investment in terms of either funds or training. I use simple ‘free’ graphics software called, Paint.net. It isn’t the most sophisticated toolkit but it does most of the basics well enough.

“It is an illusion that photos are made with the camera… they are made with the eye, heart, and head” – Henri Cartier‑Bresson (1908‑2004)

In the old days of film, darkroom manipulation required a whole extra level of skill, as well as the need for a dedicated darkroom facility along with the equipment, materials and chemicals needed. Image editing software means that a ‘laboratory’ is no longer a prerequisite for image production. Digital editing simplifies, speeds up and reduces the cost of preparing a digital image for sharing electronically. Thankfully, picking up the software skills are only costly in terms of time and tolerance. For an amateur like me, technological progress here has proved to be a wonderful thing.

There is, however, one fundamental issue that I have with the whole idea of digital image post‑processing and that is that it can often be seen and used as a cure‑all for bad photography and a temptation to mess around with an otherwise OK image. I am very firmly of the belief that the basic principle of ‘rubbish in/rubbish out’ applies. Take a good photograph and it should need a lot less manipulation after the fact. Take a bad photograph and no end of messing around with it is likely to improve it to a condition that is acceptable.

“No amount of toying with shades of print or with printing papers will transform a commonplace photograph into anything other than a commonplace photograph” – Bill Brandt (1904‑1983)

With a bit of practice, effective post‑processing can become second nature. At its simplest, this can be judicious cropping an image that is less than ideal in composition. Another learning point… cropping an image to improve composition can be rejected by social media platforms like Instagram, as it doesn’t like non‑standard aspect ratios. Editing can also prove useful in cleaning up tiny blemishes that might have been missed in the original photo shoot (usually cat fur in the CRAVE household!). However, coming back to ‘the ugly’ above, it is almost impossible to eradicate bad reflections effectively. Similarly, dealing with colour imbalance can be a nightmare, having to use software to manage contrast, brightness, hue, saturation, highlights/shadows, exposure, colour temperature, tint, hues, RGB, etc. It is very, very difficult to resolve fundamental issues unless one spends a great deal of time becoming proficient. Like many guitarists, I prefer to be playing guitars rather than fiddling around with the finer points of image editing software (and I have a professional background in IT as well!)

There are a lot of creative tools in image processing software these days. If the intention is not to create accurate images but to produce artistic effects, then image manipulation can be a great deal of fun. Sadly, I don’t have enough time to explore the full range of effects for CRAVE Guitars but there are some series where I push images to be pleasing to the eye rather than a forensic representation of the physical object. For instance, I do this for CRAVE Guitars’ Instagram series of images. I also use them for some close ups. Given the subject matter, creative effects are the exception, rather than the norm. At its simplest, creating a black & white or sepia version of a colour image is easy, as is adding a vignette or some sort of digital filter. It is preferable to do as much ‘in camera’ and as little in image editing as possible. I would like to do more in the way of creative ‘artistic interpretation’ one day.

Gallery of Post‑Processed ‘Creative’ Images – Sometimes it’s nice to play in the sandpit of digital image manipulation to create something that is perhaps more appealing to the eye than it is to catalogue and archive reality. This is where image editing software comes in. It isn’t a priority but it is something I’d like to explore more.

Other things that I would like to experiment with is to create videos of the instruments to allow people to see them from different perspectives. Another thing that I would like to explore at some point is photogrammetry, using overlapping HD images to create a 3D digital model of the guitars. Both of these would add a complementary approach to standard 2D images. One of the drawbacks of making videos or 3D‑modelling is the aforementioned issue of posing the guitar without obstruction. Essentially, though, the sky is the limit, only constrained by practical considerations and lack of creative imagination on my part.

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever” – Aaron Siskind (1903‑1991)

Final Thoughts on Zen and the Art of Vintage Guitar Photography

My main effort as far as photography is concerned is to produce straightforward acceptable images for use on the website and on social media. That is the bulk of my activity. In addition to the stock CRAVE Guitars photographs with the familiar purple satin background I also produce other series of photographs that don’t appear on the website and only selectively on social media (e.g. ‘flag’ and ‘floorboard’ pics).

“If you don’t have anything to say, your photographs are not going to say much” – Gordon Parks (1912‑2006)

One of the reasons for documenting vintage guitar gear is to record them at a point in time for posterity and an attempt to represent the gear in the best way that I can in that moment. There are other benefits, such as security. In the event that something horrible should happen, for instance damage or theft, there will be plenty of detailed evidence of each and every item. It would be difficult to pass off any CRAVE Guitars without them being easy to identify from available proof of ownership.

Only some photographs make it onto the web site, the minority in fact. Many others are used only on social media. Some may only appear in articles such as this one. Plenty more, probably the majority, are never seen by anyone but me. Some are documentary evidence, some are unacceptable but good enough to keep as snaps, and some were just for convenience or experimentation.

As a typical Virgo star sign, I tend towards being a bit (?!) of a pedantic perfectionist. That is probably not a good trait for a documentary photographer, as I can always find fault with the outcome, which is highly infuriating. What others may think is absolutely fine, I see as a train wreck. Anything slightly off drives me crazy. For instance an alignment that is perhaps just a degree off horizontal when it shouldn’t be, a perspective with a vanishing point that is slightly off centre, an overly distorted foreshortening caused by a badly chosen focal length, or a distracting artefact. Out of focus images and/or poor depth of field are also particular bugbears. Ggrr. Argh. For my sanity, sometimes I have to post a photograph that I wouldn’t otherwise accept.

Regular readers will be aware of my long‑standing aspiration to turn the house’s cold, damp, dark cellar into a CRAVE Cave for the vintage gear. Part of that ambition would be a dedicated studio photography area. There are no windows, so no unsightly light aberrations.

So, in an ideal world, what would be my ideal photography set up? Well, I’d start with a decent full frame mirrorless camera with a decent tripod. I would employ professional backdrops on a dedicated frame. I would use a variety of stand‑mounted studio lights from direct lighting, soft boxes, reflectors, ring lights, etc., suitable for static as well as video photography. In addition, some sort of support(s) for positioning/manoeuvring guitars. I would also go for some quality photo/image processing software. Ultimately, though, these are just tools and, being pragmatic, I cannot justify the cost or space. They wouldn’t necessarily make the photographs any better but they could make my life an awful lot easier. As long as it doesn’t distract from the whole point of CRAVE Guitars, of course.

“Photography helps people to see” – Berenice Abbott (1898‑1991)

As seems to be the case, frustratingly, I have ambitions that extend way beyond my ability to realise them. However, that doesn’t prevent me from trying to improve my skills to showcase CRAVE Guitars’ vintage gear. I will continue to display the ‘collection’ to the best of my ability so that I can share with anyone who might have a similar obsession with these wonderful objects made of wood, plastic and metal. As ‘they’ say, ‘beauty, is in the eye of the beholder’ and ‘truth’ is therefore subjective. Oh, and do not believe anyone who suggests that, ‘the camera cannot lie’. It most certainly can.

So far, I have set things out as a technical, linear process without any emotional component. Firstly, I like looking at things, hopefully in a slightly different way from most people. Secondly, I like taking photographs of things that appeal to me; vintage guitars definitely fall into that category. Thirdly, I like sharing my passion with others and images are the primary vehicle that I use for doing so. As the saying goes, ‘A picture is worth a thousand words’ (NB. The origins of the phrase are unclear but can be traced back to several different sources between c.1911 and 1921, probably drawn from earlier, similar sentiments, meaning that complex ideas can be conveyed by an image more effectively than by a lengthy narrative description). I hope that the notion of an emotional attachment comes through not only in the pictures but also in the words that support them. Photography should be an enjoyable experience and the outcomes satisfying. If it isn’t pleasurable, it probably isn’t worth doing.

For once, I have left behind the sounds and playability of vintage guitar gear, at least for this article. That doesn’t mean that playing them and making music with them is of less significance than their looks. The aesthetic appeal is just one aspect of vintage guitar gear and it is the one way in which I can articulate my passion. Visual appeal is therefore quite an important and integral component of vintage guitar heritage. Another point is that this isn’t just about nostalgia or reminiscence, it is about a practical way of keeping these aging relics of a bygone age relevant in the modern world. Images are used to show how vintage guitars are right now, complete with all their untold back stories. They have lived many decades already and they will live many, many more, hopefully. Long after I’ve gone to that darkroom in the sky. CRAVE Guitars is, after all, just a temporary steward in their long journey.

“The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera” – Dorothea Lange (1895‑1965)

I am a vintage guitar enthusiast first and foremost, not a photographer. The instruments are my priority. I do not think and do not imply that I am a good photographer from whom something valuable can be gleaned. I make no pretentions or claims to competence and my images, I believe, are testament to that lack of skill. My ability cannot be compared with most professional photographers, yet alone the masters of the trade. My photographs will never be revered as art but that is not what is important. However, it is an essential way for me to look and to see what it is that I am so passionate about and then to use images to tell a bit of their story to others. Ultimately, it is the vintage guitar gear that matters, not my ability or equipment; it is the beauty of the subject that, to my eye, needs to revealed and communicated.

One thing I have learnt more than anything else from feedback is an adaptation of that old adage, ‘you can’t please all the people all the time’. Share photos of the full guitars, people ask for close up images and vice versa. Share photos with some creative post‑processing and people ask for straight images. Share AI images and they want real photos. Share standard photos and they want to see/hear the vintage gear. Share something not on the web site and people say they want images already available. I try to do all of the above and people still find a way to disapprove, often vociferously, such is the toxic nature of unsocial media. Sheesh! One cannot win. It is also one of the reasons that I think social media is a necessary evil to be tolerated, rather than enjoyed. Why can’t people engage harmoniously with a contemporary community of like‑minded individuals? I have now decided to share what I want to post photographically and if people don’t like it, well, they know what they can do! Yup, look elsewhere.

“You can fool of the people all of the time, you can fool all of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time” – attributed to various including John Lydgate, Abraham Lincoln and PT Barnum

Just a word on the matter of Artificial Intelligence (AI) which, by all accounts, is the next ‘Big Thing’ that will apparently permeate all parts of our paltry presence. I am reasonably technologically‑minded and I can see both the potential benefits and potential risks of AI. I am no Luddite in that respect. AI will continue to mature in the same way that the Internet did. I think I’m on safe ground in saying that AI will find increasing traction in photography, both in digital camera electronics and in post‑processing image editing software as well as web site creation and social media. I predict that AI will ultimately result in a compromise of both good and bad, as with any other paradigm shift in human technological progress.

Oh, by the way, don’t forget that, in addition to the feature pages, there is a whole menu of picture galleries to be found on the CRAVE Guitars web site by following the link below (opens in a new browser tab):

Link: CRAVE Guitars Picture Galleries

Do I have a favourite CRAVE Guitars photograph? Tricky one that. I would have chosen an image of the stunningly beautiful 1963 Gibson ES‑330 but that had dark reflection aberrations of the sort indicated above. Then I thought of the 1968 Gibson SG Standard, the 1983 Gibson Explorer CMT. Almost there but not quite. There was the 1965 Fender Jaguar, the 1962 National Glenwood 95, the 1962 Gretsch 6120 DC Chet Atkins and the 1972 Fender Mustang Competition, even better. In the end I selected the 1972 Fender Telecaster Thinline ‘floorboard’ image. It is not on the website and I’ve only used it once on social media, so you might have missed it. The Thinline is a beautiful guitar captured in an OK image. A 100% original picture with zero post‑processing. So… here it is for your delectation. Perhaps I could have saved over 8,620 words after all.

OK. How about a least favourite? One image that shows just about every bad thing about a guitar image. There are (sadly) so many examples of rubbish photography but this one (actually on the web site!) is clearly demonstrating a job done badly. Sadly, it is only one of many. Not one’s best moment, I am embarrassed to say. Dear, oh dear.

If I do have any final words of advice about photographing vintage guitars, they would be twofold; a) A good eye is better than good equipment and, b) To produce consistently good images requires a great deal of perseverance, patience and a concentration on the subject matter. Nothing else matters. The following quote is testament to that from someone far wiser than me.

“Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst” – Henri Cartier‑Bresson (1908‑2004)

Photographs in Music

As a bit of a tenuous link to musicology, photographs and photography have appeared in many songs by well‑known artists over the years, including the 20 below, amongst many others (in no particular order):

The Cure – Pictures of You
A Flock Of Seagulls – Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You)
Blondie – Picture This
Duran Duran – Girls on Film
R.E.M. – Camera
Depeche Mode – Photographic
J. Geils Band – Centerfold
Neil Young – Distant Camera
Death Cab For Cutie – Photobooth
Wilco – Kamera
Frank Turner – Polaroid Picture
Johnny Cash – Send a Picture Of Mother
Ed Sheeran – Photograph
Taylor Swift – Picture to Burn
Keith Urban – Polaroid
P!nk – Family Portrait
Ringo Star – Photograph
Paul Simon – Kodachrome
Def Leppard – Photograph
Nickelback – Photograph

“Only photograph what you love” – Tim Walker (1970‑)

The CRAVEman as Prehistoric Photographer

As seems to be becoming commonplace these days, The CRAVEman has to get his fearsome Stone Age mug into the show somehow. Here he is trying his best to capture images of his precious prehistoric guitar collection, despite the (hopefully obvious) challenges. He may get the hang of it in a few thousand years’ time!

Useless fact of the month: As a prehistoric individual, The CRAVEman attempts to grapple with the technology of a Victorian bellows camera. He hasn’t yet grasped the concept of flash photography – originally using a carefully measured chemical flash powder comprising a mixture of magnesium and potassium chlorate, placed on a tray and ignited to produce a bright flash. Now we use LED flash guns. Thankfully.

“You don’t take a photograph, you make it” – Ansel Adams (1902‑1984)

CRAVE Guitars’ ‘Album of the Month’

There is no real connection between this month’s article content and this month’s album selection, so there is no point in trying to justify any sort of questionably vague link between the two. This time around, just for the joy of it, I thought I’d go for something a little different. This month’s accolade goes to…

David Bowie – Let’s Dance (1983): Let’s Dance was David Bowie’s 15^th studio album released in April 1983 on the EMI record label. The album was co‑produced by David Bowie and Nile Rodgers. Bowie’s previous album, ‘Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)’ (1980) was a hard act to follow. Typical of the Thin White Duke, he didn’t regurgitate more of the same. Oh no. A total musical transformation and a new image were well up with the prevailing zeitgeist of the time. The album comprised 8 tracks, coming in at just under 40 minutes. Four of those tracks were released as commercial hit singles, ‘Let’s Dance’, ‘China Girl’, ‘Modern Love’ and ‘Without You’, helped to a significant degree by frequent rotation on MTV’s stylised music video coverage at the time.

Bowie was never one to shy away from an unlikely creative transformation. Let’s Dance (the album) received a mixed reception and many found it difficult to categorise at the time, especially as it was a departure from what people expected from a Bowie album. Musicians included several members from Nile Rodgers’ Chic and guitar work from one Stevie Ray Vaughan. The album was toured globally in 1983 as the Serious Moonlight tour. I was fortunate to attend one such concert at the Milton Keynes Bowl in Buckinghamshire, England in 1983. The massive success of Let’s Dance was followed by a creative anti‑climax in David Bowie’s output for many years and nothing subsequently matched the commercial success of Let’s Dance.

When thinking about the staggering legacy left by the late David Robert Jones (real name, 1947‑2016), ‘Let’s Dance’ may not be amongst many people’s top albums. There are way too many excellent Bowie albums to pick just one to stand head and shoulders above the rest. The rationale for choosing ‘Let’s Dance’ is simply that it is an easy listen and, on the whole, very accessible and emotionally buoyant – making it an enjoyable musical experience. RIP Ziggy Stardust, a.k.a. Mr. David Bowie.

BELIEVE IN MUSIC!

“To photograph truthfully and effectively is to see beneath the surfaces” – Ansel Adams (1902‑1984)

Tailpiece

Well, that was a bit of an epic journey, far longer than I thought it would be. As mentioned at the beginning of this article, I can’t believe that it has taken over 100 blog posts over almost twelve years to get around to the subject of vintage guitar gear photography. When the epiphany occurred, it was a relatively easy topic to cover. I hope that there was something illuminating (sic!) for you to enjoy. I will persevere to improve my photographic skills.

“One should really use the camera as though tomorrow you’d be stricken blind” – Dorothy Lange (1895‑1965)

For once, I already have an idea for the topic(s) for next month. I just have to put finger to keyboard to compose something that will make sense. I hope you’ll return to find out what I’m planning. Let’s hope there is still a habitable world in which such an editorial can be brought to fruition.

Truth, peace, love, and guitar music be with you always. The CRAVEman, signing off for now. Until next time…

CRAVE Guitars’ ‘Quote of the Month’: “Music is like essential life blood with the heart providing the rhythm, the brain providing the melody, the blood vessels providing the arrangement and the blood cells providing the individual notes. A perfectly balanced system in synergy, created over aeons”

Like it? Why not share it?

27 Feb 2025

February 2025 – Ikigai and Vintage Guitars

by CRAVEGuitars | posted in: History, Introduction, Observations, Opinion | 0

Prelude

IT IS WITH GREAT RESPECT AND HONOUR that I welcome you with open arms to CRAVE Guitars’ February article. One trusts that the little blue marble on which 8bn+ citizens fly at an astonishing rate through the universal void (NB. approximately 627km/s (1,402,559mph) relative to the Cosmic Microwave Background) is still a habitable ecosystem, despite mankind’s worst (and unfathomable) efforts to obliterate it and everything worthwhile on it. The current world state is, frankly, a disgrace to anyone’s sensible definition of civilisation. Talk about regression. OK. Let’s not.

Do you feel as though you are travelling at over 1.4 million miles per hour? No? Me neither. But you are. The reality of it seems unreal. We cannot comprehend the truth; it is beyond our ability to rationalise. Sometimes we need to think beyond what our five meagre senses tell us about our environment and wonder at our place in the vastness of the universe.

“In the sky, there is no distinction between east and west; people create distinctions out of their own minds and then believe them to be true” – Buddha (Siddhārtha Gautama – c.480‑400BCE)

Once again, I am returning to the comfortable and comprehendible micro‑biosphere of vintage guitars. Once again, I am taking an oblique perspective and thinking about these adorable instruments within a wider life process. Once again, I shall be looking to the Orient for inspiration. Once again, it will, hopefully, make sense by the time we reach the end. Once again, here we go…

When writing this article, I found myself returning to some of the ideas covered in last month’s article, ’10 Things I Love and Hate about Vintage Guitars’. By providence, it turns out that this article makes a relevant companion piece to January 2025’s blog. Rather than reiterate some of the previous article here, you can access it here (opens in a new browser tab):

January 2025 – 10 Things I Love and Hate about Vintage Guitars

Last month, I used quotes came from Shakespeare’s ‘Taming of the Shrew’ and from the modern coming‑of‑age rom‑com film based on the Bard’s play, ’10 Things I Hate About You’ (hence the title’s tie‑in to the article). This month, I will focus on supporting quotes from the wise dude that is Buddha. Despite the different countries and religions of origin, the thoughts and ideas are harmonious.

“I don’t like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?” – Kat from the film, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

What is ikigai?

On the face of it, Ikigai (生き甲斐) is simply a word. However, behind those six letters/four characters lie a universe of possibility and potential. Ikigai is an ancient eastern philosophical construct that literally means, ‘iki’ (to live) and ‘gai’ (reason), usually used to mean, ‘purpose for being’. In Asian countries, particularly Japan, ikigai is so ingrained in the culture that it is inseparable from their daily way of life. It is therefore integral to the habitual behaviour and feelings of its citizens, rather than a discrete, overt rulebook for how to act.

It is believed that ikigai originated from Okinawa in Japan as a guiding philosophy for a long, happy, and meaningful life. Interestingly, Okinawa is the island prefecture of Japan known for its high number of centenarians per capita population. It has been suggested that Ikigai, enhances mental health, wellbeing and mindfulness. Taking the other side of the same coin, studies have shown that people who do not feel ikigai are more likely to be affected by cardiovascular disease. Interestingly, the vague notion of ‘happiness’ is downplayed in ikigai for more meaningful emotional states.

Ikigai is scalable and can be used to refer to an individual, a community, an organisation, a country/nation/state or society as a whole. In modern times, Ikigai was popularised by the Japanese psychiatrist and academic Mieko Kamiya in her book, ‘On the Meaning of Life’ (1966).

“The most genuine aspect about ikigai is that it involves your feelings. Ikigai is something you feel. It is related to one’s sense of self‑worth and personal values. And is more future‑oriented than happiness” – Mieko Kamiya (1914‑1979)

The Japanese government goes as far as to describe ikigai as, “A broad concept, ikigai refers to that which brings value and joy to life: from people, such as one’s children or friends, to activities including work and hobbies”.

Ikigai is not unique and the principles are not exclusive to Asian origin, similar ideas have manifested in other countries and cultures such as the French ‘raison d’être’ and ‘joie de vivre’, the Greek ‘Eudaimonia’ and the Austrian ‘logotherapy’. The western Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) of mindfulness is based on elements of ikigai. It seems that, whatever words are used to define it, many cultures actively seek the path to a satisfying and meaningful life, so why should we not join them in the venture?

Am I wedded to, or invested in, ikigai? Nope. Do I use it as my guide to life? Nope. Do I deliberately think about applying its principles on a daily basis? Nope. If that is the case, why is it important enough to write about and how does it work on a conscious and subconscious level? Well, I thought that, if I applied the principles of ikigai to something practical in the real world, it might produce some interesting results.

“The secret of happiness is not in doing what one likes, but in liking what one does” – Buddha

The principles of ikigai

There are many variations to the concept of ikigai. Many writers refer to ‘the four pillars’, ‘eight intersections’, ‘nine steps’ or ‘ten rules’. This means that the core concept has been interpreted in many different ways for different audiences. Looking into the variety of ‘frameworks’, it seems that authors can adapt the concept in any way they please to make their point. Some takes on ikigai are logical while some are frankly hard to connect to ancient oriental philosophical thinking. Some frameworks purport to be ikigai but aren’t – beware! Some people refer to the ‘rules’ of ikigai but ikigai is definitely not rules‑based – avoid! So… how to make sense of the subject matter?

In the end, perhaps because it resonated with my own personal norms and values, I am going to use the ideas put forward by distinguished Japanese neuroscientist, broadcaster and author Ken Mogi (1962‑) in his book, ‘The Little Book of Ikigai’ (2017). The tagline to the book is, ‘The Japanese way to finding your purpose in life’. I read this book with a curious, critical and almost‑sceptical mind. I chose this tome because it is relatively slim (and therefore accessible) and because I was, perhaps vainly, hoping that it would give me some tangible direction to my own sense of purpose. While the latter sadly wasn’t realised (perhaps I was expecting too much in the way of an epiphany), it was still a thought provoking read, providing many real‑world examples to bring the concept to life. Ken Mogi suggests the following as the ‘5 pillars of ikigai’:

Starting small
Releasing yourself
Harmony and sustainability
The joy of little things
Being in the here and now

Mogi suggests that these are neither mutually exclusive nor exhaustive and therefore best used as a guide, not a doctrine. The approach is entirely discretionary and relies heavily on common sense. Ikigai is neither religious nor spiritual dogma so it is secular in origin and application. However, ikigai isn’t a ‘pick & mix’ where fulfilment can be achieved by embracing some parts while rejecting others. If it is to be life changing and life confirming, it’s kind of an all‑or‑nothing holistic approach.

Perhaps it is because Mogi is a neuroscientist and I have a lay person’s interest in how the brain functions, his ideas accorded with my own. My curiosity lies in how humans make sense of our environment through perception, thought, memory, reasoning, learning, decision‑making and behaviour. Basically, there is nothing clever or pretentious going on here, ikigai’s quintessential simplicity seemed to me to be a reasonable and practical place to start.

The aim of Mogi’s book is to provide an outline to help readers to realize and discover their own ikigai. While Mogi’s methodology didn’t deliver (for me) on the implied and unmeasurable promise of “less stress, better health and greater happiness” (NB. from The Times newspaper review), it provided a basis for further exploration. Ikigai seemed a tantalising way of applying ideas to reality. In this case, testing what CRAVE Guitars is, the longevity of its journey, why it is compulsive and, perhaps, how it might develop in the future. So, in a nutshell, that’s where I am coming from.

“The only real failure in life is not to be true to the best one knows” – Buddha

Why ikigai?

Regular readers may well have noticed that CRAVE Guitars’ articles often refer to things that have an Eastern origin and I regularly use quotes from the Buddha. To clarify; my ethnicity is white/British and I am not religious, so there is no cultural or ideological/theological motive to exploring this theme. I have absolutely no agenda here. I am not trying to influence anyone (including myself) or to promote anything. However, it has turned out to be more than just a detached intellectual investigation in that I can understand that there is more to ikigai than trite personal development ‘spin’. It is, by the way, much more profound than the headlines above might suggest.

“He is able who thinks he is able” – Buddha

While I admit to past hippie‑ish tendencies when I was younger, there is no history of Far Eastern philosophy driving my life. However, there are many things that I come across in my research that have roots in Eastern culture and actually mean something to my personal perspective on life. It may appear that Eastern thinking sits at odds with the harsh realities of the Occidental post‑industrial capitalist ethics pervading my country of origin (the UK). Ikigai clearly isn’t for everybody – each to their own.

Thus it was that, amongst many other topics, I came across ikigai and it struck a chord (sic!), sufficient to be worth investigating. It therefore seemed logical to extend that stimulus to include how it relates to my obsessive passion for vintage guitars.

“I never see what has been done; I only see what remains to be done” – Buddha

Ikigai and Vintage Guitars

So how does all this work regarding vintage guitars? Well, I hope to explain, first by clarifying what each of the five ‘pillars’ used by Ken Mogi mean and then how that equates to my passion for CRAVE Vintage Guitars.

Starting small – This can mean the little rituals and habitual routines that, together, make it worth getting up in the morning. It is about discovering life’s little pleasures that have meaning, even if no‑one else shares them. Once one recognises the small things that give you pleasure, one can cultivate, nurture and grow these things until they become something unique and tangible, which have value and reward. Over time, such appreciation can contribute to good health, a contented, fulfilling life and greater longevity. Some interpretations of ikigai extrapolate the ideas to include work and making money from one’s endeavours. However, commerce is not the focus here.

Starting small makes sense. How often is one able to start something fully formed, sizeable and successful? Big dreams and big outcomes (generally) have to start small if their potential is to be fully realised. Starting small doesn’t mean doing something shoddily. It is important, regardless of scale and scope, to act to the best of one’s ability. Doing small things and executing each small step with uncompromising perfection and proficiency is part of ikigai’s mantra.

When it came to guitars, it all started in the late 1970s with my first ‘real’ electric guitar (a Fender Mustang) and, following a trade up and savings, to a Fender Stratocaster and a Gibson Les Paul Standard. At the time of acquiring them, they were far from vintage, both being second hand and less than two years old at the time. Small beginnings were a very big thing for me then. Then life and its burden of responsibility intervened for over two decades.

When it came to founding CRAVE Guitars, it began in a flash, spotting a 1989 Gibson Les Paul Custom in a shop window in Brighton, East Sussex, UK in 2007. It looked ‘right’ and I was hooked instantly, even though it wasn’t vintage at the time. From that moment on, the die was irrevocably cast. I gradually migrated away from a random accumulation of acoustic and electric guitars of various ages and budgets from all over the world to what became the more focused entity that is CRAVE Guitars of here and now.

The magic of vintage guitars is now a vital part of my daily life and has been for years. Several guitars are always on show and can be picked up and played at a moment’s notice or just looked at and cherished. There is some ‘it’ factor about vintage guitars that is beguiling and mesmerising (see last month’s article). Each one is unique and each has its own idiosyncrasies. While CRAVE’s overall ‘stockpile’ continues to grow, there are many moments of discovery, insight and pleasure that equate very well with ‘starting small’.

“An idea that is developed and put into action is more important than an idea that exists only as an idea” – Buddha

Releasing yourself – In ikigai, releasing yourself is the idea of self‑negation, the person not being the centre of an activity, not being burdened by social status or a definition of ‘self’. Some interpret it as subordinating oneself for the interests of others. It also means that consciousness is linked to the discovery of sensory pleasure in things. To release oneself, one needs to let go of one’s ego – it is not the sense of self that is important, it is all the facets of what one does that makes something pleasurable. Releasing yourself is basically the antithesis of seeking fame or pursuing insipid celebrity ‘status’ for its own sake.

Not realising or understanding the idea of releasing yourself when writing last month’s article, I tried to articulate what I now comprehend as sensory pleasure. I talked then about the look, feel and tone of vintage guitars as well as an appreciation of their past and future. It really isn’t about me, it is about the almost transcendental experience of owning and playing music on a vintage instrument. I do not go on about how big my collection is, how special it is or how much it is worth (I genuinely have absolutely no idea of monetary worth). Neither is it about my playing ability (NB. rubbish) or the type of music I create – none of these things matter to the guitar.

The idea of releasing yourself, again not realising it, has been and is integral to CRAVE Guitars. Readers may have noticed that I attempt to remain enigmatically anonymous and in the background. The focus has always been on facilitating and sharing the wonder of CRAVE Guitars. The personality of the founder is immaterial. Indeed, I am uncomfortable putting ‘me’ in any limelight. Again, it is not about who I am, my ego or self‑esteem, it isn’t about my social standing or how I might be perceived by others; it is 100% about the vintage gear. I try hard not to reveal my identity and I purposefully do not share images of myself, CRAVE Guitars is all about (and only about) the artefacts, and it has been that way since it was established in 2007. Hopefully, this dissociation enhances the quality of the CRAVE Guitars experience.

CRAVE Guitars is not an elite collection and it isn’t a commercial enterprise. It is a non‑profit information sharing project. It is not modelled against any other entity, so it may be unique. It is what it is and I hope that others share my interest. Personal circumstances dictate that I have to live a modest, humble life and vintage guitars are my mission in life, unburdened by institutional, professional or commercial constraints.

Another example is when talking about the spin‑off project to (try and) write fiction – ‘The Distortion Diaries’. I have already stated that, if it is ever published, it won’t be under my own identity, it will be under a pseudonym. The aim is to focus readers on the material content, not the author. It is most definitely not about the author’s ego. How many times do people read a book because it is written by an author they like (or avoid one by an author they don’t), rather than read it because of its inherent literary merit? Removing the author’s identity, ego, vanity and position from the decision to read something may (?) enhance the journey in a different way.

I do not (need to) seek external validation for my work on CRAVE Guitars. Striving for approval (or not) is not a primary factor, although it is quite gratifying when positive feedback is received. If people wish to interact with CRAVE Guitars, that’s fine but it is not the same as interacting with me as a private individual; they are separate things – the disembodiment of the ego from the entity. I would much rather visitors focus their interest on the cool & rare American vintage electric guitars, rather than the vain, narcissistic vintage owner of them.

It seems that ikigai’s ‘releasing yourself’ has already been habitual for some considerable time. This was not deliberate but, now, ikigai finally makes sense to me.

“There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth, not going all the way, and not starting” – Buddha

Harmony and sustainability – This is about creating a sense of community around something that has a lasting, unforgettable impression. In our evermore connected world, it is easier to put something out there for others with a similar mind set to engage with. It also becomes easier for the community to contribute towards a shared outcome. Our modern world also means that we can achieve this far easier without causing adverse impacts associated with, for instance, environmental damage caused by travel.

Established norms, values, rituals and customs over time all form part of a continuum sustained in harmony. In last month’s article, I referred to universal balance and an equilibrium that allows for a dynamic system of opposites to co‑exist. The Chinese way of yin and yang is all about harmony and sustainability.

In the last article, I talked about stewardship and temporary guardianship of vintage guitars and I also talked about the importance of conserving, rather than preserving, vintage instruments. All these are part of harmony and sustainability. The web site, social media and these blog articles all contribute towards CRAVE Guitars being a contributory part of a much broader community of like‑minded people anywhere in the world. Temporal sustainability also helps to maintain continuity between the past, the present and the future.

“Nothing ever exists entirely alone; everything is in relation to everything else” – Buddha

CRAVE Guitars is not about the modern (bad) habit of convenient material obsolescence and disposability, or Gen‑Z’s inconsiderate demand for random, sterile immediacy and attention. CRAVE Guitars is about bringing instruments from the past, taking care of them in the current moment so that they will be relevant in the long‑term future. CRAVE’s esoteric trove of vintage gear attempts to find a synergistic coherence in the whole that is greater than the sum of the individual instruments.

The aim is that CRAVE Guitars isn’t a point in time, it is just a part of a much bigger, much longer story within the broader context of a vintage guitar community that includes the despicable ‘collectorati’, retailers, dealers, auctioneers, museum collections, individuals, artists and wider society. All of these things form just a small portion of CRAVE Guitars ikigai.

“In our interactions with others, gentleness, kindness, respect are the source of harmony” – Buddha

The joy of little things – Like starting small, this isn’t about appreciating the idea of something but it is about enjoying something for what it actually is. The joy of little things applies to all human senses, which may or may not be relevant depending on what one is experiencing. For instance the aroma and taste of expertly prepared food or drink is a sensory pleasure (hopefully). The visual appearance of nature, abstract art, architecture or (good) industrial design can evoke an emotional response. The touch of a blade of grass, a tree bark or a grain of sand can evoke a tactile experience beyond the object itself. The ambient sound of the waves or wind can compare with the greatest music if one is prepared to appreciate ones surroundings as suggested by ikigai. Nurturing an individual’s hobbies is about combining the joy of little things that is unique to that person.

Last month I talked about wabi sabi, the Japanese concept that something can be perfect because of its imperfections, using examples such as the patina, light reflections, scuffs, bumps and nicks, lacquer fading, finish crazing, and genuine wear and tear. It can also apply to details such as inlays, binding, tuners, knobs, frets, screws, contrasting materials, as much as to the whole. The uncompromising approach of luthiers to make something exceptional exemplifies ikigai. This doesn’t mean that quality is just about the most expensive and faultless artistic creations. It is about genuine quality – an object’s fitness for purpose. Some of the most basic and straightforward objects can carry just as much fascination. Budget guitars from the 1950s and 1960s can compare with the most expensive classics on a level playing field in terms of the joy of little things.

CRAVE Guitars is not obsessed with the most valuable or the rarest of all guitars, it is about real instruments. It is not about how much they are worth, it is about how they make one feel. Just as much joy can be found in every instrument by accepting it for what it is and not comparing it with some, often fictitious or unobtainable (and therefore ultimately joyless) ideal. Once acquired, a CRAVE Guitar rarely gets moved on. It is the pleasure of longevity that adds to and deepens the attachment to each instrument. The same, I hope obviously, applies for basses, effects and amplifiers.

Some manufacturers have developed a whole livelihood around the attention to every detail in an attempt for continuous improvement, examining every minute element to create synergy. Paul Reed Smith is one example of obsessional striving for excellence in every element while not forgetting the guitar’s fundamental purpose as a musical instrument. His fixation on superiority in every aspect of manufacturing is transferable to the pleasure of ownership and playability experienced by customers. The same ikigai has been instrumental (sic!) in the phenomenal rise of many boutique luthiers making a bespoke guitar as perfect as it can be for each individual customer.

“Do not overrate that you have received, nor envy others. He who envies others does not obtain peace of mind” – Buddha

Being in the here and now – This pillar of ikigai is also a fundamental part of Eastern spiritualism, as much as it is to society and culture. The past is gone, the future is as yet unwritten. All anyone can ever do is to act in the present moment. Animals, for instance, do not appear to abide by the human concept of time or space – they exist only in the here and now.

“What you are is what you have been. What you will be is what you do now” – Buddha

This doesn’t mean that the status quo is perpetual or unchanging. Rather, it is about change being constant and perpetual. The decisions that one makes in the present moment do not affect the past and can only have consequences in the future. Compared to the universe, we exist in one miniscule place and one miniscule moment in time. However, it is incumbent on each individual to do the best that they can while in the here and now.

“Everything changes, nothing remains without change” – Buddha

As mentioned in last month’s article, many guitars existed before I came along and will (hopefully) exist long after I’ve gone. Even then, each instrument only occupies a part of my time on Earth. One can appreciate the history, the mythology and the unknown stories of their past and one can only speculate about their post‑CRAVE future.

“What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow; our life is the creation of our mind” – Buddha

My role and responsibility is to document the here‑ness and now‑ness of each one. One cannot play all the instruments at the same time, so each experience is by definition different and ever‑changing.

“The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, nor to worry about the future, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly” – Buddha

Final thoughts on ikigai

So… the idea is to accept yourself for who you are and to find your own ikigai – your own reason for living, your purpose in life and your motivation to get up in the morning. I cannot guarantee that exposure to these ideas will change your life, make you happier (or wealthier), or make your life more fulfilling and satisfying. Ultimately, it is just a different way of looking at the same things. There are no revelations and there is nothing revolutionary here, however I have found that, once exposed to the ideas, incorporating some aspects of ikigai into daily activities may make life just a bit more bearable.

“Happiness will never come to those who fail to appreciate what they already have” – Buddha

Popular motivational (and often cringe‑worthy) sayings along the lines of, “small choices become actions, actions become habits and habits become a way of life”, pervade modern first‑world popular cod‑philosophy. However, ikigai does represent a mindful interpretation that has endured over many centuries to become part of and beyond Japanese culture. I don’t think one can simply dismiss ikigai (or other ideas like it) as irrelevant or ‘foreign’. It doesn’t mean that it works for you, so I’m just putting it out there for consideration. It doesn’t just apply to vintage guitars, I simply used that as a mechanism to illustrate how an abstract concept can be applied to just one practical example. Ultimately, this article is not instructional, its purpose is simply written for entertainment and information.

“If you do what is good, keep repeating it and take pleasure in making it a habit. A good habit will cause nothing but joy” – Buddha

I was quite surprised, when writing this article, how consistent it is with last month’s article about universal balance and vintage guitars. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I was espousing many of the ideas I’ve covered this month. I suppose that at least it was complementary, rather than contradictory. Phew!

When starting this article, I intended to include some other philosophical concepts that could be relevant to vintage guitars. However, this article has taken up considerably more time and research than I originally envisaged. The other ideas will have to wait for another article for another month.

“What we think, we become” – Buddha

CRAVE Guitars’ ‘Album of the Month’

There didn’t seem anything obviously relevant to this month’s article, so I homed in on the ‘perfect because of its imperfections’ idea and came up with this month’s accolade. And so… drum roll please… I present to you…

Kurt Vile – Smoke Ring For My Halo (2011): Kurt Vile (1980‑) is a strange animal to pin down. He is an American singer/songwriter, multi‑instrumentalist and record producer from Pennsylvania and former member of the indie rock band, The War On Drugs. His music is generally regarded as belonging to the ever‑so‑vague category of indie with a distinct leaning towards slacker rock and lo‑fi rock. SRFMH is Kurt’s fourth studio album released in March 2011 on Matador Records. Kurt sums up his feelings about the album much better than I can, “It’s just me and those thoughts you have late at night when nobody is around. It is more a feeling than a statement – a general wandering feeling” and, “a kind of trance‑like, Appalachian folk‑style”. His comments understate his otherworldly chiming heavily effected acoustic guitar playing and his laid back, contemplative vocal style that is best listened to as an immersive experience rather than a critical audition. Just 10 tracks covering 47 minutes, with the exquisite, ‘Baby’s Arms’ as the sub‑4 minute opening track and closing with the deeply haunting and unsettling, minute‑long ‘Ghost Town’. Overall, it’s a laid back indulgent pleasure.

Smoke Ring For My Halo is perhaps the least stressed out indie rock album I’ve heard and one to go back to, to take the edge off the world’s anxieties and to chill out. The lasting impression it leaves the author can be encapsulated in the framework of ikigai’, so, it kinda fits after all.

“When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky” – Buddha

BELIEVE IN MUSIC!

Tailpiece

Well now… there’s quite a lot to get one’s head around in this month’s topic. I hope it has, in some way, proved enlightening or thought provoking. There are also a great deal more questions that have been provoked by this article, to which I will have to return to in due course, if nothing else other than to tie up some loose ends.

Strangely, I seem to have avoided my usual (irritating) traits of abundant alliteration, mixed metaphors, horrendous hyperbole and nonsensical non‑sequiturs this month. I’m sure my abundant grammatical and literary sins will be back after a sensible sabbatical.

Next month, I’m hoping to return to the topic of vintage guitars viewed from another angle. I would be delighted if you wish to return and join me and the fruits of my mangled imagination. See y’all soon.

Truth, peace, love, and guitar music be with you always. Until next time…

CRAVE Guitars’ ‘Quote of the Month’: “Why does every silver lining have to have a cloud?”

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28 Jan 2025

January 2025 – 10 Things I Love and Hate about Vintage Guitars

by CRAVEGuitars | posted in: History, Introduction, Observations, Opinion | 0

Prelude

HERALDING A HEARTY “HELLO” to y’all for the first time in 2025. Welcome one and all this fresh, shiny New Year, albeit nearly a month old now. Personally, I dislike January. It is cold, dark, wet and definitely inclement. In addition, due to the preceding festive season, January is a month of self‑imposed financial austerity. Almost unbelievably, this year (2025) represents a quarter of the way into the first century of the second millennium already. Where does time go and, more importantly for each of us, uniquely, is where did our time go? One thing is for sure, once it’s gone, it’s gone and it can never be recycled for any purpose other than memory and, perhaps, reminiscence. As one gets older and nearer to the long rest of inevitable mortality, time becomes disproportionately more precious and ephemeral.

Now, ‘they’ say that those who can’t do, teach, those who can’t teach, teach teachers and those who can’t teach teachers write about the things they can’t do or teach. So here I am writing about stuff that I don’t really feel qualified to discuss. Again. Some readers will know way more about vintage guitars than I ever will. Wait… hold on a sec… that’s never stopped me. Oh, what the heck, let’s do this.

This month, I’d like to get back to the subject close to my heart, vintage guitars. It’s been a while because I’ve been writing about other things. This month, while I’m still trying (and not getting far) to work on ‘The Distortion Diaries’, I was thinking about what I like about vintage guitars and what I don’t like about them. One might think that my experience might be entirely positive. However, the reality is a great deal more pragmatic.

The free‑ranging thought processes led me to this month’s article, ‘Ten Things…’ In previous articles, I have attempted to understand the appeal of vintage guitars compared to modern instruments and other old stuff. However, this was inherently a predisposed approach, using positive reinforcement to justify a lifelong preoccupation. Time then, I thought, to take a more contemplative, critical and non‑prejudicial approach by questioning what I love about vintage guitars and the polar opposite of what I hate about vintage guitars.

For info, the majority of the quotes this month are from William Shakespeare’s ‘Taming of the Shrew’ (c.1590‑1594) and a romantic comedy film loosely based on the play, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ (1999). This is intentional and fitting.

“You can’t just buy me a guitar every time you mess up, you know” – Kat from the film, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

Understanding universal balance

Before we start, please bear with me while I take a bit of an existential ‘helicopter view’, then we’ll get to the point. Like most things in the universe (at least our universe if you believe in multiverses), there exists a natural balance that, overall, maintains a steady state of equilibrium over time while also allowing for chaotic fluctuations.

Once again, I’m looking to the east for cultural inspiration. In ancient Chinese philosophy, the concept regarding opposite but complementary, interconnected and self‑perpetuating cycle is known as yin and yang. The opposing forces of yin and yang interact to form a dynamic system in which the whole is greater than the parts and the parts are integral to the whole. The concept is represented by the Taijitu (the familiar diagram of the ‘supreme ultimate’, c.3^rd Century BCE) with black representing yin (the female/passive/negative) and white representing yang (the male/active/positive). The contrasting dots in the Taijitu represent the one co‑existing within the other. Yin and yang are co‑dependent – they cannot exist in isolation, only in perpetual, infinite duality (called a unity of opposites). With yin & yang, the duality exists between the opposing cosmological forces of order and chaos. In human socio‑political terms, the duality is signified by the tension between order and disorder, good and evil, etc. The concept of universal balance applies equally to the past, the present, and the future of existence. Put simply, opposites exist for a reason. Right, that’s the mind‑bending bit over. Deep breath time.

“You’re 18, you don’t know what you want. And you won’t know what you want ’til you’re 45, and even if you get it, you’ll be too old to use it” – Walter from the film, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

Applying universal balance

So… balance is important. The fundamental and elemental ‘rules of engagement’ represented by yin and yang are applicable to every aspect of “life, the universe and everything” (NB. A reference from ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ (1979) by author Douglas Adams).

Thus, when it comes to vintage guitars (and, by extension, equally to vintage basses, effects, amps, etc.), there is a universal balance that provides for the existence of these bits of wood, plastic and metal, and how we feel about them. Accepting the principle of equal and opposing absolutes; light and dark, good and bad, black and white, truth and lies, men and women (at least in my day), concepts of heaven and hell, N and S magnetic poles, etc., let’s start with the positives before we move onto the negatives.

Please remember that this is my, albeit biased, personal opinion under the guise of establishing objective fact. Readers will undoubtedly think differently, so please regard these ‘10 things…’ as the author’s own perspective – nothing more, nothing less. Above everything else, though, this perfunctory examination is for entertainment purposes only. Reader discretion is advised.

I will, however, attempt to curtail my typical tendency to alliteration, my personal propensity for hyperbole, my fun‑filled metaphor mixing and other intentional grammatical sins.

“Better once than never, for never too late” – William Shakespeare from ‘The Taming of the Shrew’

10 Things…

For once, I am not going to go into great depths and will limit each point for brevity. I trust that the implied message behind a few words (for me) is sufficient to convey what I struggle to express. Right, without further ado, let’s get into the action.

10 Things… I Love About Vintage Guitars:

The Heritage and the History – Vintage guitars are the epitome of heritage and they chart the sights and sounds of music over many decades. Many guitars are associated with artists and musical genres that embody and reflect social culture of their time. They play a fundamental and integral part of music history. These aren’t just ‘antiques’ to be stuck on a dusty shelf, they can (and should) actually still be used to make music. My playing skills are inadequate but that doesn’t matter. Holding and playing vintage instruments imbues an intangible, almost mystical appreciation of a zeitgeist stored within the materials. They are vintage because of the long life they have lived, not just the number of years since manufacture. It is, however, all too easy to slip into a deceptively romanticised view of the past.
The Ownership – Fundamentally, people like to own stuff and, for me, that means vintage guitars. Once we start accumulating stuff, there are deep‑seated psychological reasons why we develop a compulsion to collect more stuff. There is no space here to cover that, so you’ll have to take my word for it (for now – I feel another article topic coming). Watching guitars on stages, TV and, yes, even viewing them in museums is one thing but the thrill of having them literally to hand and being able to pick up a vintage guitar and to play it is massive part of the ownership experience. Simply owning and playing some of these old instruments is a pleasurable exercise. Once acquired, I don’t feel inclined to move any of them on; they become part of my life. Protracted ownership is one of the key reasons I’m not a dealer.
The Uniqueness – Back in the day, guitars were largely manufactured by hand and it is unlikely to find two that were identical even back at the factory. On top of that, add in all the things that have happened to them over many years and they bear the marks of time, giving them their mojo and making each and every one of them even more unique and genuinely so. No fake aging here. There is something uniquely satisfying about knowing that the guitar in your hand is unlike any other on the planet, not because it’s been messed with but because it has lived a life of music making over the decades.
The Authenticity – Vintage guitars are the real thing. Not reissues, not New Old Stock (NOS), not relics. They show in every way that they’ve had a life of playing and making music. They don’t just look the part, they are the genuine archetypes on which many modern guitars are styled. I must admit that I prefer vintage guitars that are all‑original if possible, even though this isn’t always practical. I am divided on the topic of refinishes. Generally speaking, original is best – once a refinish has been undertaken, the original can never be reinstated. I do not advocate modifying a vintage instrument unless it can easily be put back to original.
The Variety – Particularly but not exclusively in the 1950s, there was an explosion of design creativity as far as American (and other) electric guitars are concerned. This brought us the Telecaster, Stratocaster, Precision bass, Les Paul, ES‑335, Explorer, Flying V, etc. etc. This means that, although the number of vintage guitars for a specific period is finite, there remains a great deal of diversity, even though there were no such things as ‘mod shops’ or custom shops at the time. In particular, I tend to like the unusual guitars that many others detest. My choice. Their loss.
The Look – I can sit and look at vintage guitars for ages. Wabi sabi is the Japanese concept that something can be perfect because of its imperfections. Whether it’s the patina, the light reflections, the bumps and nicks, the lacquer fading, finish crazing, the genuine wear and tear mean that there is always something that draws the eye over and over again. In my view, the best guitars are well‑used instruments and far more interesting that pristine museum‑grade examples. Where others might see ugliness, I see loveliness in droves.
The Feel – Looks are one thing, feel is another. Most vintage guitars are well played in, although some are worn out. The materials age naturally over time, giving them a tactile feel that is far from the generic newness of mass produced modern guitars. Modern machine manufacturing is very different from the somewhat haphazard and idiosyncratic construction methods of the past. Many modern manufacturers try (and fail) to mimic the physical effects of extended age and use in new instruments. One can almost feel the honest history of each instrument every time it is picked up and played.
The Tone – After the previous two points, one cannot ignore the tone. Many modern guitar designers spend inordinate amounts of time trying to replicate the tones of original instruments. Tone woods are unique and age uniquely. Pickups for instance were often made out of what was available at the time and, while it is possible to emulate the materials, the passage of time seems to exert a permanent change in the physical structure which not only makes each one unique (see above) but makes them impossible to replicate in every way. Modern technology and techniques can only get so far. There are also plenty of under‑the‑radar vintage guitars that can provide a wide range of tones beyond the ‘classic’ sounds of the icons.
The Mythology and the Truth – The absence of genuine documentation leads to much interpretation and opinion. Even the most fastidious research can only uncover some of the truth. The rest is, and will probably likely always will be, unknown. The scant facts result in a truth vacuum within which stories have been created and promulgated, with varying degrees of truth. The fact that only some things can be verified, means a wide variety of opinions persevere. In the absence of documentation, who really knows what these instruments have been through in their lifetime? Using one’s imagination imbues them with intangible mystery that may or may not be deserved. Generally speaking, the more pristine the example, the less storied its history.
The Privilege of Stewardship – Ownership is one thing (see above). However, many vintage guitars not only predate their owners but also will probably outlast them, possibly many times over. This means that ‘owners’ are essentially only temporary and are transitional guardians of important historical artefacts. It is good to be part of their story, perhaps being documented for only the first time in their long life. While I’m here, I am trying hard to do my bit for prolonging posterity, even if I won’t be there to enjoy it once my time is up.

“No profit grows where is no pleasure ta’en. In brief, sir, study what you most affect.” – William Shakespeare from ‘The Taming of the Shrew’

10 Things… I Hate About Vintage Guitars:

The Economics of Collectors vs. Enthusiasts – Regular readers will know that I abhor the whole ‘vintage guitar collector’ world and its elitism, asset accumulation, profiteering based on return on investment and flaunted status symbols of wealth. Most ‘golden era’ vintage guitars (c.1950‑1965) from the major American brands are now so far out of the reach of enthusiasts that many will never get to appreciate the charms of these icons. A case could be made that collectors help to preserve heritage but only if they can make a profit along the way. I can’t abide, let alone change, the arrogant avarice and scornful snobbery associated with vintage guitar ‘collecting’ but at least I can attempt to share my ardent enthusiasm. I recognise that dealers have to make a profit but some take the price of ‘exclusivity’ to extremes. This particular gripe is not about vintage guitars per se but directed at the leeches that avidly feed off them. It is even worse when those pariahs can’t even play them while at the same time denying others the joy.
Provenance and Celebrity Ownership – What distinguishes a standard guitar from the same model owned by a famous musician. Normally nothing really, other than the artist association. A guitar that would otherwise cost just a few thousand pounds/dollars can be escalated to stratospheric, often seven figure sums. Owning a celebrity guitar wouldn’t make me sound like them (why would I want to?) and it doesn’t make me play any better (sadly). I am interested in the instruments, not the artists. While it is good to have some genuine insight to a guitar’s history, I will leave the quest for insanely costly instruments with documented provenance to others. If I mention that auction house, Christie’s of London sold part of the late, great Jeff Beck’s guitar collection on 22 January 2025, raising over £8.7m ($10.7m) in the process, you’ll possibly kinda see where I’m coming from.
The Maintenance (Inc. Parts & Accessories) – Keeping vintage guitars is not straightforward; they require ongoing care and attention. If vintage guitars are used (as they should be), wear and tear ensues. Taking care of vintage guitars often exceeds the skills of amateur meddling and benefit from (expensive) professional skills. Finding a luthier who really knows what they are doing and can be trusted is not an easy task. Sourcing genuine vintage parts is becoming harder and more costly meaning that it is a challenge to keep them vintage correct AND usable. Worn out and badly treated vintage guitars are a sad sight and some, in all honesty, are just not worth conserving. Refinishes devalue an otherwise great instrument. Refrets are, however, sometimes necessary. Neck breaks unfortunately determine eternal ‘player’ status. The prices of vintage guitar cases on their own can also be quite daunting, not to mention case candy, sales tags, manuals and sales documents, normally discarded many decades ago.
The Environment – Vintage guitars are more sensitive to environmental conditions than new ones – temperature, humidity, UV light, etc. Different materials respond differently over time. The ideal environment for vintage guitars often differs from what people experience in day‑to‑day living areas. Most vintage guitars, in my view, should not be locked away in secure environmental storage, meaning that there has to be compromise for us ordinary enthusiast owners. Managing the environment in a normal home without climate control is therefore not ideal but, at least in my case, good enough (just). Thankfully, most electric guitars are less susceptible to changes in environment than acoustics, although archtops and semi‑acoustics can prove problematic. Prevailing wisdom is that guitars should be kept in their cases at a temperature of 21‑24˚ (70‑75˚) and a relative humidity (RH) of 40‑50%. The most important factor here, though, is ‘stability’, avoiding extremes and rapid fluctuations.
The Playing Experience – Part of the mythology is that vintage guitar playing is some transcendent spiritual experience that cannot be matched by mere mortals with ordinary instruments. The reality is, however, much more mundane. However, no matter what period vintage guitars were originally manufactured, some are great, many are OK and some are dogs. The consistency and accuracy of manufacturing back in the day means that many are not always the easiest or most pleasant to play. Sometimes, however, the challenge may also inspire different approaches to playing. Bottom line, the truth is that a guitar of a certain edge doesn’t guarantee blissful nirvana, not by a long way. Be prepared for fret buzzing, high action, scratchy pots, stiff or loose tuners, inaccurate intonation, ineffective truss rods (if any), etc.
The (Lack of) Documentation – Even today, accurate information isn’t always easy to come by but with vintage guitars, it is often almost impossible to get to the bottom of things. From serial numbers, to manufacturing/shipping numbers, to seemingly contradictory features and specifications, identifying and dating vintage instruments can be a nightmare, despite best efforts and extensive research. Even George Gruhn’s illustrious ‘bible’ has plenty of errors and omissions. The best approach is to undertake diligent research and, if possible, find corroborating information from someone who may know more. Sometimes, one just has to use one’s experience and take a punt on an undocumented instrument.
The Noise of the Opinionated Ignorant – The usual example of this is the vociferous and damning condemnation of CBS‑era Fenders and Norlin‑era Gibsons, et al. Such broad‑spectrum denigration simply isn’t justified. These disparaging views are sustained by many people who don’t really know and understand what they are talking about – they just spout out the derivative, clichéd rhetoric of the lazy and uninformed. While there may be no smoke without fire, it is plain wrong to assume that sweeping generalisations apply to every instrument. Don’t believe everything you read; make up your own mind, based on real experience. Extrapolating the point further, the noise of self‑appointed, erratically opinionated commentators over time can create a broad perception that is not necessarily true but, if restated sufficiently strongly, people will believe it anyway (the so‑called illusory truth effect). Such automatic assumptions need to be challenged and re‑evaluated. I strongly advocate an open mind and critical questioning of blind dogma. The symptom may be exacerbated by selective positive reinforcement, i.e. someone agreeing with similar views while dismissing opposing views. File under guitar snobbery, hogwash and boloney.
Fakes and Copies – Where there is money involved, often lots of it, there are unscrupulous companies and individuals wanting to exploit innocent victims for financial gain. There have long been fakes of classic guitars pervading the vintage market and some of them are hard to identify and root out, let alone the possibility of bringing the perpetrators to justice. A lesser ‘crime’ is companies imitating classic guitars and selling them in large numbers. I can understand some people wanting the look without the cost but it is not a thing to be proud of and it often isn’t good for the industry. The most infamous cases were in the 1970s with the lawsuit‑era guitars where flagrant copies by Ibanez (and others) were almost identical to the originals. Then there was the Gibson vs. PRS battle in the early 2000s over the single cutaway Les Paul outline. Now, cheap Chinese knock offs are flooding western markets with an adverse impact on genuine models and are, politically, impossible to litigate against. There really is no need to counterfeit the classics – do something original and improve the breed with integrity.
The Preserve or Conserve Dilemma – Should museum grade vintage guitars be locked up in vaults or in glass cabinets so they can be ‘preserved in aspic’ or should vintage guitars be used for what they were intended to be used for, making music? A case can be made for protecting a very few historically significant items but not all by any means. In my view, playing vintage instruments is good for them, even if it means that they experience greater wear and tear in the process. An old guitar that hasn’t been used for some time sounds dull and lifeless. Playing a stored vintage guitar can bring it back to life. My generally pragmatic stance here is to conserve but not to preserve. One should never feel afraid to touch, pick up or play a vintage guitar.
The Responsibility of Stewardship – While temporary stewardship of vintage guitars is a privilege (see above), it also carries a great deal of responsibility so that they can be passed on for the benefit of future generations of players and enthusiasts (and, begrudgingly, collectors) in a condition that befits their previous ownership. It is up to current ‘owners’ that the legacy can continue untainted into the future. Those that don’t take the responsibility seriously probably shouldn’t own a vintage guitar. For instance, my advice is not to mess with an original vintage instrument unless unavoidable. Far too many guitars have been modified in the past – often when they were near new – and can’t easily be restored to original. Things like tuners, nuts, frets, pickups, bridges, scratchplates, electrics, knobs and strap buttons should be kept original if at all possible. Some mods may be ‘tolerable’, for instance where changes can be 100% reversible without any damage, as long as the original parts are kept with the instrument. Routing out a guitar body to accommodate inappropriate pickups, for instance, may be considered a travesty.

“If you repeat a lie often enough, people will believe it, and you will even come to believe it yourself” – a ‘law of propaganda’ attributed to the Nazi Joseph Goebbels (1897‑1945), used as evidence to substantiate ‘the illusory truth effect’.

I have tried, objectively, to explain why I am addicted to allure of vintage guitars. So… If it isn’t about money and it isn’t about vanity and it isn’t about my playing ability, just what is it about? That’s the subjective, intangible bit that I still find hard to articulate.

Regarding the subject matter, I suspect that my passion for these objects doesn’t come across particularly well. That is my prosaic inadequacy for which I apologise.

In conclusion… if my idle observations carry any substance, there is some semblance of universal balance after all and the equilibrium is sustained. The same principles apply to just about anything you might care to think about.

“Don’t let anyone, ever, make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want” – Patrick from the film, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

10 Images which you may love or hate

Below are 10 CRAVE Guitars images for you to feast your eyes upon and, perhaps, crave (sic!). NB. None of which are to be found on the web site (until now).

Final thoughts about 10 Things…

When I started accumulating (rather than collecting) guitars in the mid‑late 1970s there wasn’t really a broadly accepted awareness of electric guitars let alone basses, effects and amps being ‘vintage’ (a word that is hard to define in this context). The original CRAVE Guitars are the 1975 Gibson Les Paul Standard, the 1977 Fender Stratocaster, the 1977 Fender Precision fretless bass and the 1978 Music Man Stingray Bass – I still have all four of them. They may be considered vintage now but back in the day, they were just guitars. Only the Music Man Stingray was acquired new, the others were simply second hand. How things have changed in the intervening 40‑50 years. Now I feel old… sorry, vintage!

If you haven’t gathered already, I love genuine, original vintage guitars. I know that they aren’t essential to civilisation’s survival but they do represent a peaceful diversion from the meanness of the modern world. Exploring the ‘Ten Things I Love/Hate’ leads inexorably onto insatiable cravings (sic!) and obsessional pursuits. For many, this is more widely known as G.A.S. (Gear Acquisition Syndrome). For many vintage guitar enthusiasts there is an additional layer of addiction and passion that has real world consequences (e.g. funds, space, etc.).

“You don’t always have to be who they want you to be, you know” – Kat from the film, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

Not everything about vintage guitar ownership is hunky dory. There is a zen-like steady balance to ownership, which is kinda the point I’m getting at, in rather a circuitous route. There are times of excruciating sufferance and moments of ecstatic exuberance. The latter more or less cancel out the former and, thus, the status quo is maintained. There is a karmic tension that many won’t understand, some will seek to fulfil, and fewer likely to tolerate. Vintage guitar ownership requires a particular type of person and a certain degree of patience that is not for everyone. Thankfully so, as there are simply not enough of these things to go around.

Economics is a social science that studies how we allocate scarce resources for production, distribution, and consumption. In this instance, the consumption component is fundamentally about the laws of supply and demand. The inversely proportional interdependence between quantity and price is something about which many vintage guitar buffs are all too well aware. As quantity reduces, prices increase. It rarely (other than in recessionary times) goes the other way in the finite world of vintage guitar market (and why an over‑abundance of new guitars keep retail prices low).

“You’re looking at this from entirely the wrong perspective. We’re making a statement” – Kat from the film, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

Some things about vintage guitars are intangible and subjective, so much so that it is difficult to articulate effectively. Can some of the attributes associated with vintage guitars, including many of the statements above be measured or explained definitively? The ageing of electronic parts for instance. Scientifically, it is not easy to say why one vintage pickup hits the sweet spot while another fails to sound right. Does the type and quality of the tone wood make a real difference to the feel and tone of vintage instruments? How much is real and how much is simply suspicious snake oil? One thing is for sure, vintage guitars have something that new guitars don’t. Identifying with any sort of certainty what that ‘something’ is will engage people in debate, probably forever, and that just adds further mystique and mythology surrounding vintage instruments.

“I burn, I pine, I perish” – William Shakespeare from ‘The Taming of the Shrew’

Some may accuse CRAVE Guitars of actually being a symptomatic example of the abominable ‘collectorati’, a secretive society of which I am so consistently critical. That is probably a ‘fair cop’ to some extent and it is an insinuation that I must bear and justify as a necessary compromise. However, as a not‑for‑profit entity, CRAVE Guitars is certainly not in it for money and I do my best to share the heritage with anyone who wants to look in, so not secretive. They are played, although each one doesn’t get as much playing time as I would like. In addition, I do not try to preserve them, they are too important to waste away in a sterile stasis.

“… But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all” – Kat from the film, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

One thing you might ask at this juncture is (how) do I rank guitars in the ‘collection’? Well, the easy answer is that I don’t. There are undoubtedly ones that I prefer playing to others, some that I prefer to look at to others, and some that sound better than others. However, in overall terms each one has its place and is valued in different, if not directly comparable, ways. However, I cannot rule out the fact that the thorny subject of favouritism may come back under the spotlight at some point.

Where all the CRAVE Guitars’ guitars, basses, effects, amps and accessories will eventually end up, who on Earth knows? In the meantime, I’ll just continue as a curatorial custodian of valued vintage paraphernalia to the best of my (limited) ability.

One wonders what future generations will make of things if/when they look back to the 2020s and, maybe, come across this article. Even in another 40‑50 years, I am certain that perspectives will be very different again. I will also wager that many of the much maligned guitars that I personally like will be much in demand attracting inflated premium prices. Unfortunately and sadly, I won’t be around to proclaim ever so smugly, “I told you so”. Shame.

“If she and I be pleased, what’s that to you?” – William Shakespeare from ‘The Taming of the Shrew’

CRAVE Guitars’ ‘Album of the Month’

Given the subject matter of this month’s article, there is only one album that I think fits the bill (in a slightly tangential fashion).

Leonard Cohen – Songs Of Love And Hate (1971). This impressive recording was Leonard Cohen’s 3^rd studio album, released in March 1971 on the Columbia record label. The album was recorded during a difficult period in Cohen’s life, suffering from depression, making it a very personal and emotionally intense album for the late, great Canadian singer/songwriter. As a whole, it is an extraordinary recording, famous for evocative tales including, ‘Avalanche’, ‘Last Year’s Man’, ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’ and ‘Joan Of Arc’. Despite Cohen believing ‘Songs Of Love And Hate’ was a failed experiment, it endures as one of his finest achievements. Many commentators assert this album as proof of Cohen’s pessimistic ‘downer’ reputation but that misses the point, as it can be a powerfully cathartic listening experience. Only 8 tracks on the original release, coming in at under 45 minutes, it was not only a commercially successful album but also it represents a priceless memoir in the annals of musical history. A fine legacy from a fine artist. Thank you Mr. Cohen (1934‑2016, 82).

The relevance, once again, is that love and hate are interdependent polar opposites that exemplify the importance of, and need for, universal balance – the yin and yang referred to at the top of this article. If we do not understand hate, we cannot appreciate the value of love. If we do not wholeheartedly embrace love, hate will overcome and overwhelm us. Profound existentialism that provides for the equilibrium of life and humanity in the cosmos.

“Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” – Patrick from the film, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

BELIEVE IN MUSIC!

Tailpiece

So, 2025 is now well underway. Thank you for taking precious time out of your life to spend it here with me. I am pleased that CRAVE Guitars is back to talking about vintage guitars within a wider context. The change of scene for a few months was healthy and the subject matter fascinating but vintage guitars still rule. I hope you were able to get some interest and/or pleasure from it. The length of articles is beginning to creep up again, requiring more time to be spent on researching and writing articles than focusing on ‘The Distortion Diaries’. Note to self: Stop it! Now!

I know it’s not my place but in a world of escalating aggression and conflict, the only sensible bit of guidance I can give is for y’all to just chill the heck out (apologies for the split infinitive). Be kind to yourself and others.

Next month, ceteris paribus, we’ll be taking another oblique view about the world of vintage guitars. In the meantime, may you maintain your universal balance and find harmony and contentment therein.

Truth, peace, love, and guitar music be with you always. Until next time…

CRAVE Guitars’ ‘Quote of the Month’: “We don’t make love. Love makes us”

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