Stairway To (Selmer) Heaven

Confessions of a luthier

(First published in Guitarist magazine, issue #476)

Can Alex rise to the challenge of bringing a road-worn jazz guitar back to its former glory?

As any luthier will tell you, taking on repair work can provide quite an education in guitar building. This month a guitar came in through the door which is precisely the kind that I relish: an instrument in which there is scope for many small improvements, which should hopefully add up to quite a lot.

The guitar in question is a gypsy-jazz style guitar, instantly bringing to mind vibrant campfire jazz jams associated with the gypsy-infused jazz music of Django Reinhardt. Deep grooves scar nearly every single fret along the fingerboard, showing all the signs of having enjoyed many blistering arpeggio runs and nonstop la pompe rhythm playing for the last decade at least. I can’t resist playing a few minor 6th chords to see if some of that Manouche-infused mojo might rub off on me.

Back to the workshop, and a brief appraisal reveals that the strings are sitting higher above the frets on the treble side of the guitar than the bass side. The reverse is usually true, and on closer inspection it appears the floating archtop-style bridge has been put on back-to-front. This provides an easy fix that would be a good start to get this guitar playing right, but some further investigation is necessary to get things playing perfectly. The old corroded strings can’t go in the bin soon enough, and once they are off the poor condition of the fingerboard becomes painfully apparent. Fortunately I’m mostly looking at a build up of dirt and grime, so nothing too serious but a dash of lemon oil won’t cut it this time. Armed with a pair of reassuringly tough vinyl gloves, it’s time to take out my miniature cabinet scraper and pare away the many years’ worth of unidentifiable gloop.

A common way to restore the playability of a well-used guitar is to either refret it completely, or level the frets with a file. I opt for the latter, given that the wear to the frets is not too extreme in any one spot. Once complete, every fret is painstakingly ‘crowned’ to ensure the string only sits on a single point at every location. Failure to do this results in a poor tone, as well as noticeably spoiling your intonation as you fret notes. The filed surface of each fret has to be finely abraded to a mirror finish to ensure buttery-smooth playability. Now I daresay I’m looking at a fingerboard that looks as new as the day it was made.

I restring the guitar with a set of gypsy jazz 11-45s. Unlike the bronze acoustic strings with which most of us are more familiar, these silver-plated copper wound strings are essential for applying the correct amount of tension to the longer scale length of the gypsy jazz style guitars, as well as achieving the best sound. Now that I’m working with the right strings and a corrected fingerboard, it’s important to tweak the truss rod to (almost) straighten out the neck once everything is under tension.

Next, some subtle alterations are made at the bridge end I am ready to put the guitar through its paces one more time, attentively checking that every note sounds just right, ensuring the feel of the neck is balanced and the action is in the ‘sweet spot’ - not too high, not too low, especially for punchy gypsy jazz technique.

Finally, I am tasked with moving the fret dots from the US-standard 9th fret to the 10th fret, as per the original 1940s Selmer guitars. This is tricky woodwork, but when it comes to hiding the repair, thankfully the ebony is forgiving. The finishing touch is a new handmade pair of quirky moustache ends, and stepping back it’s hard not to feel as though this battle-hardened axe is smiling back at me in appreciation.