April 1: An epic day in Nashville...
I've had enough fret jobs done to know a good one can make a real difference in a guitar which sounds great and shows promise – but falls short for niggling neck/fret issues. I also know a fret-dressing by an inexperienced or simply inattentive tech having a bad day can be at least moderately disastrous, if not worse, possibly requiring a re-fret to resolve.
So it's always dicey, taking a guitar for a fret tune-up. If it's not a favorite guitar and you're just trying to improve it, maybe not so much of a risk. But if it's one of your cherished rides – but has small congenital (or gradually developing) problems – a fella gets a bit nervous. There's also often little cost difference from "touching up a few frets" to a complete leveling, so it can be problematic deciding just how to proceed.
Once you've had a couple BAD fret jobs, you're a little nervous ever after. The worst thing (ask me how I know) is to spend a pile, wait to get the guitar back, find it little or no better than before (or bad in a different way), and realize the next step is a refret or new neck.
I could probably eventually learn to do fretjobs myself. I hacked away at them when teching in a music store in the 80s, being careful always to work on guitars I couldn't make WORSE. But I've done enough of it to know my limitations, and to imagine the time, expense, and unfortunate accidents likely to accompany my own attempts to get results that would satisfy me.
I'd been aware of this Plekking business for a couple of years. It sounded like science fiction: an "automated" fretjob machine which can (in experienced, trained hands) reputedly do a beyond-humanly-perfect fret dress in minutes.
Was it John Henry vs the steam engine, or sending a robot to do an artist's job. Are fret jobs art or science? (The answer, as it turns out, is that it's both.) A great technician on a conscientious day can do a wonderful fret job, no doubt. But if the Plek machine could deliver "perfect" results, every time, with no worry – it's a no-brainer, huh?
So I had been looking for the opportunity to have a guitar (or two) imPlekticated. When gradual fretwear issues on a couple of my favorites started to bother me, it was time. From research, I knew Joe Glaser Instruments in Nashville was not only my closest plektorium, it was one of the most experienced. (Just HOW experienced, I didn't yet know.) I knew Richard had his prized 6122-59 tweaked there, and was very happy with the results.
I made the call, and was told I could drop a guitar off and get it back in a week or so. I asked if I brought several and drove down from Indiana, could they possibly be done in a day?
Joe graciously accommodated this imperious request, and we set the date for April 1.
Accordingly, I rose stupid early, loaded seven guitars in the van, and made the drive, arriving at Joe's place around 9:30 in the A of M. Joe's place is in a residential neighborhood south (and I think west) of downtown, an area of recording studios, art galleries, and the like. From the street, it looks like a small house; there's no signage. (In fact it started as a small house; there's now a reasonably enormous industrial building attached behind it.)
I carried guitars in and we got right to work. Joe explained all the parameters the machine measures, and – since one size fret job does NOT fit all – the variables that have to be considered before he could determine what would be a "perfect fret job" for me.
I explained the two kinds of problems I thought were represented in one or another of the timber I'd brought with me: more string rattle than I'd like on the bass strings in the first position – and isolated fret buzz in a few locations above the 12th fret.
I demonstrated the issues on the guitars. He asked if I'd brought a guitar that I considered played perfectly. I produced my Dyna Jet, and played it. He watched and listened to my playing for awhile, no doubt drawing some conclusions.
The he put the Jet on the Plek (which is set up in a small room off the front office) to get its parameters scaned. The Plek machine (which you should read about in more detail elsewhere, as I won't do it justice) measures most parameters with the strings on and at pitch. In a minute or two it knows neck relief to thousandths of a millimeter, at every point across and up down the neck, as well as the distance between string and fret EVERYwhere.
It creates a clinically merciless graphic of the shape of the fingerboard, on a string-by-string, fret-by-fret basis: no hump, twist or bump will escape notice. It knows the height of every fret above the board under every string.
The Jet was good; it wasn't perfect. I saw the anomalies, and Joe could see how the setup could be improved to suit my playing habits. The question then became, should we plek the Jet?
I trusted him – if I was in for a donut, I was in for the whole box – so we went for it. First Joe adjusted the truss rod (I tended to have too little relief on all my guitars), then slacked the strings and pulled them aside. The machine put tension on the neck to exactly mimic the tension of the strings, Joe entered the parameters of presumed perfection, and turned the beast loose.
The process so far had taken 30-45 minutes, maybe a little longer. (It would get faster.)
We were interrupted when "Vince" came in to talk shop (he and Joe were helping organize a community guitar show/jam). Joe introduced me briefly, they talked for 10 minutes or so, and Vince left. I know I don't pay enough attention, so I had to ask. Yes, it was the Vince you'd think it was.
The actual Plek process, the fret-dressing itself, took about 8 minutes, removing absolutely the minimum amount of metal necessary to level the frets and give them the profile desired.
Before I could play the guitar, though, it was delivered into the hands of one of Joe's techs to have the nut attended to as needed, and to polish the frets. (The machine work doesn't leave them mirror-smooth.)
When that was done, half an hour or so later, I played the sucker, and – fur's I could tell, in that environment, it was even sleeker and smoother than it had been. Of course, on a guitar that already played well, I wouldn't know for sure till I got it home and played through my own gear across a range of songs.
And there wasn't time for that. But my confidence in Joe and the process was strong enough that we forged onward, using the setup of the Jet as a starting point for the others. He had me line the guitars up in whatever order of priority I preferred (whether "worst problem" or "favorite guitar").
The day settled into a rhythm: I'd get out a guitar and show him what I wanted to resolve. He'd inspect it from a luthier's viewpoint, then scan it with the machine, show me the results, and we'd decide whether to proceed with each one. Then he'd program and let it do its thing.
All the time we talked, and I learned more about Joe and the process. Turns out Joe is actually Mr. Plek in the US, and has been a co-developer of the machine since it was invented in Germany. His is one of the earliest units of the current generation, incorporating the latest upgrades.
He's done over 5,000 guitars on the machine – and the data for every one of them is stored on the attached computer. From the famousest of famous players down to hacks like me, that machine knows more about the intimate details of neck and fret than the people who built the guitars. He showed me some of the befores and afters of amazing players' axes. Every brand and model.
Joe has also installed every other Plek machine in the US and trained its operators (who must be experienced techs, if not luthiers, to run the thing). He consults with every manufacturer who uses the machines, some on a frequent, even almost daily, basis.
As the day wore on, I began to understand that, even with all that, the Plek machine is not the center of Joe's operation there. I don't know how many superb guitar techs there are in Nashville, but Joe's place is clearly one of the premier shops. (Maybe THE premier shop.) They do every kind of functional and finish repair, setups, quick fixes, emergency jobs, rebuilds.
But, as Joe explained, they're not about strictly cosmetic collector work: they're about bringing instruments to a peak of real-world playability for professional tone-mongers. In that vein, he provided some gentle reality therapy: for as hard as I like to play down low on the neck (which didn't seem unusual to him, as many Nashville players drive pretty hard), I was going to have to accept somewhat higher action than I'd been trying for.
Knowing I'd be in Nashville for the day, but not realizing I'd be hanging out WITH Joe as he worked, I'd invited Duane and Deed to lunch if they were going to be in town. As the lunch hour passed, Deed called to see what was up...I explained that I was immersed in guitar mania, and she said their plans had changed, so maybe it wasn't going to work out.
In the meantime, we had other interruptions: Tom Peterson checked in a stripped mid-60s Rickenbacker guitar to have pickups, bridge, and other hardware installed.
One of the other techs who works there carried in a triple-humbucker Les Paul Custom he'd just refretted, for Joe's verdict. It was Peter Frampton's. Was it THE guitar? No one knew. Maybe.
Next it was Al Anderson, of NRBQ, who dropped off a new Fender relic Musicmaster-looking Tele-cross kind of thing for a quick setup before a gig. And the hits just kept on coming...
Eventually I went for lunch and a post office run. While I was gone, the shiny iPhone rang, and it was Deed. They'd come downtown after all, were hanging out at Joe's, and Deed needed ice for a hornet sting.
So we got to hang out after all. Joe and his techs were thrilled to meet Duane, of course, and we got a tour of the whole facility from paint booth to tech benches. And not one but TWO giant plastic garbage cans FILLED with removed strings – which the shop carefully saves after removing for donation to folks who need them. We were told it was about two-months' worth. I'm trying to imagine how many guitars go through the place!
So the afternoon had that texture: Duane and Deed sharing casual stories in response to questions from all of us, passing around guitars as they came off the bench, hearing the Plek grind away at my guitars. All very casual.
At some point we talked about bridges, and I told Joe about Tru-Arc. He was very interested in both the concept and the execution, and showed me a carefully arc'ed truly compensated wrapround stop-tailpiece bridge he'd designed – a work of art. He's made six of them, and they sell for 250.00. Says he doesn't want to make any MORE, and thinks Tru-Arcs are UNDERpriced.
I left him several to try out with customers.
One of the seven guitars, we determined, didn't need enough work to justify the expense. Joe thought its isolated 10th fret buzz on one string could be a dented string – and was right.
The others were duly plekked, frets polished, set up to boutique standards, passed through my hands for a quick approval, and re-cased. He was generally impressed with the consistency and quality of the Terada Gretschs' necks and fretwork, a little disappointed at the Hamer (which he's found generally superb), and dismayed (but not surprised) at issues with the Reverend Club King.
But even those guitars, from his experience, were well within the usual spec of current production guitars. His demonstration of Plek machines at trade shows involves the cheapest, rawest Chinese acoustics they can find – which, in 15 minutes start to finish, the machine renders perfectly and sweetly playable.
By the time he wrapped up my guitars around 6:00, Joe was pressed for time to get to a practice (or gig). I loaded out, we settled up and shook hands, and I was on my way.
Beyond the incredible service I got, and Joe's generosity in spending a day on my guitars and talking about plektation, was it worth it? Do I like the results?
And that, hardy readers, will have to wait for tomorrow's installment.
My apologies that there are no pictures. I COULD have; I SHOULD have documented this visit more thoroughly for the edification of all. I was remiss. Deed did take a couple of pics, which I imagine will appear later...
