So the project that began with “what would a guitar with a totally flat soundboard sound like?” ended up answering a very different question – “How do you make an archtop with sustain and broad tonal colour?”

It’s proving a pretty popular design, yet some really struggle with it as the cantilevered long neck and wedged floating bridge seems to defy their understanding of engineering. Of course the best thing is for folk to try one out, then the “aaah!!” moment comes, and all the doubts go!

Despite this idea being “new” it’s not without pre-cursors:one feller noted that I’d re-invented Les Paul’s “the log” and just the other week I saw a picture of a guitar by a 1960’s Italian maker, Wandre, that had a cantilevered neck similar to my archtops, so I’m in good company it seems.

The freedom to experiment:it’s one of the many benefits to running a one man shop. With employees it wouldn’t be possible, I’d be too concerned about keeping them busy and paying the bills.

GC: You trained under the guidance of luthier Stefan Sobell from the age of seventeen – how valuable was this process in terms of building your own confidence and ‘voice’ – and how much did this working relationship influence your own work; belief in yourself and ability to take instruction – so much so it still influences you today?

Working for Stefan was a very challenging and worthwhile experience, and one that continues to influence my present.

Considering what a basic workshop (by todays standards) it was, we made a lot of fine instruments. Not only did he make good instruments he also knows how to run a business, and run it well. When Stefan started he was supporting his young family, and he was the bread winner. He had to get things done, get them right and get them out the door. And in those days his work wasn’t commanding the sort of money it is now. When I started with him in 1988 I think a Model 1 guitar was £820 or £880!

As for belief in myself – When I opened my own workshop it wasn’t as if I was trying to learn how to make guitars whilst trying to make a living at the same time – I already knew how to make fine guitars, I’d been making some of the most highly regarded instruments in the world. For years. Just no-one knew. Some folk who used to visit Stefan’s workshop though I just made the tea! So it was more more of an issue of letting people know that I was in business, that the quality was the same, just the design and approach was different. It didn’t take so long, word got around pretty quick and it didn’t take long for a waiting list to build up.

Taking instruction is an interesting topic – there are many ways to learn: a great bit of advice I heard years ago from a martial arts instructor was “If you have a question…ask yourself first before asking me” It’s very very good advice. And a very effective way to gain a little insight.

Much of what I learned from Stefan I learned through observation and asking questions of myself. He’s a guitar maker, not a guitar making teacher and whilst he’s extremely articulate, much of what he does can’t be articulated, it has to be learned through observation and repetition until it becomes experiential.

That said, it’s certainly important to ask questions of teachers, the right questions, but that “ask yourself first” rule should still apply. Sometimes we ask questions more out of wanting to appear intelligent or interested rather than out of a genuine curiosity. That’s the wrong motivation for asking question…more about how we want to be perceived rather than our wish to learn. Sometimes we ask questions because we want to understand everything straight away, but it simply isn’t possible. That’s where repetition comes in handy, it’s the repetition that makes certain things become clear in the mind, but then I suppose that’s not an option available to many.

Back to receiving instruction – as a young man I didn’t like being told what to do, and this caused a lot of problems between Stefan and I, looking back, he had a lot on his plate dealing with me. Still, I learned a great deal working for him but the learning hasn’t stopped, that’s for sure. Listening and observing really helps. Actually, in recent years I’ve earned to listen more, especially when I hear or read something that I actually don’t agree with or like.

One of the difficulties I’ve had in talking to other luthiers, amateur in particular, is that many current makers share a vocabulary – they share ideas and many seem to be reaching a sort of consensus about how instruments work. In my training and in the time I spent with Sobell, we never spoke of nodes and modes, it wasn’t something we concerned ourselves with, instead we spoke of structure and building in order to resist soundboard deformation. This is still pretty much how I tend to think about design which can be a challenge for those who want to learn about how I make. I talk in terms they may struggle to understand (and I don’t just mean my accent!), and of course, my work has never been “data driven” which is so popular amongst amateur makers. The desire for data (amongst amateur makers) is perfectly understandable but data alone won’t make a good guitar or a good guitar maker. It certainly means very little to customers and players.

Looking back at the first few years of my solo work the Sobell influence is very clear – I’d made a number of structural design changes that (at the time) I considered important but the guitars from the first few years still sound and look very “Sobell” to me, which is no bad thing of course, but it took a while to build on that sound which I found a little harsh at times – especially in the hands of players who weren’t so quick to adapt their right hand playing style to a different style of building. My intention was to soften things up without loosing any of that famous Sobell clarity, and seems to be how things have worked out.

GC: It sounds as though your devotion to yoga, meditation and in the past, Japanese martial arts – as well as voluntary work in Asia – has become significant to you outside of your guitar-building work. How much has this enabled you to develop focus and crucially, how much do you need to retain this clarity for your luthier work?

It’s been a gradual progression – much of that excess energy in my 20’s got channelled into both music and Aikido, but the more skilled you become at Aikido, the more terrifying it becomes! In the end the fear and of injury grew larger than my wish to keep practising…it’s a truly beautiful, elegant and subtle martial art, and very challenging.

Then in my early 30’s I found myself in a yoga class. Partly just to get out of the workshop (this was when I first began building under my own name and was putting in a lot of hours at the bench) and partly to sort out my aching back. I still practice, but not so diligently. I practice enough to allow me to sit in meditation without having to experience too much physical pain. I’d rather spend the time meditating.

Meditation has been part of my life since my mid 20’s but it wasn’t until 2010 that in Thailand I stumbled upon a type of reflective analytical meditation that really challenged my patterns of thought, intention and behaviour. Amongst other things, I began the slow process of looking at my motivation for working. I was shocked at how little thought I’d given it…. My work had brought a little bit of pleasure and contentment into the world for sure, but I decided it was time to do something which was more directly beneficial to people – to give my time and my skills as a volunteer.

It’s the perfect time to do it – I’ve a nice job, no boss, no debt, money in the bank, and for the first time in years I’m pretty free of major responsibility – my daughter is grown up and flown the nest, no employees, nothing… a perfect situation to spend a bit of time helping others. So for the last couple of years I’ve spent the winter time donating my woodwork skills mainly, but other stuff too. It’s nice, working and living in a team, in a different part of the world, doing something where these skills of mine can make a difference.

What it also means is I get to “step back from the canvas” which is so valuable. The internet allows me to still communicate with customers and deal with inquiries and I’ve a great network of friends in the trade who look after the occasional warranty set up or little repair that might arise.

GC: You have mentioned Italian luthier and classically trained musician, Mario Maccaferri, as an inspiration to your own work. He has clearly had many set- backs along the way, including an injury which caused him to cease his playing for some time. He found ways to continue on with his work, despite these set-backs – and became someone who developed innovative new techniques that future luthiers now model themselves on. How much can you relate to these hardships and what kind of highs and lows have you been faced with – and how has this contributed to your own sense of style and unique design?

I’d never thought about Maccaferri like that before, but you’re right. We all suffer some sort of hardship or other. This is simply one of life’s rules, wether you like it or not, wether you even acknowledge it or not…things will from time to time go wrong. It’s how we react to these issues that matter. The trick is not to add suffering to the suffering that is already present! Seems Mr Maccaferri had a decent grasp of that one.

It’s hard to say how hardships manifest in our work. Often its how we react to hardship. In my case it’s by taking a step back and trying to see things as they actually are rather than how I would prefer them to be. Trying to work out what is really going on. Accepting things, trying to understand them and working with where things are now, not getting lost in how I’d prefer them to be.

The greatest challenge in recent years I’ve had to face has been grief, with both parents passing away, both within a few years of one another and both still relatively young. But it’s a very valuable process to go through, to reflect and value the good qualities of those you’ve lost and to actually direct your energies to developing the same qualities yourself, that’s the best way to honour someone’s memory eh?

My parents were very kind, generous, simple people. No pretensions, just very straightforward, decent working class folk. My brother and I were very fortunate, and I know many others are not so lucky.

Back to the work:visually there is no “distractions”, no affectations, no shouting, no demanding, no attention seeking in my instruments. What you see is what you get. Tools to make music with. You could say that if I have a “style”, this is it.

Style can seem a very personal thing. Design can seem a very personal thing. But its always conditioned by the past and by external things – by what we’ve seen or experienced before, by the things we like, by the things we don’t, even by the things to which we’re indifferent.

Whilst my style of making feels very personal to me, if you take a broader view its actually very “British” design: compare my work to that of my peers, it’s really plain and functional. Then compare a 40’s or 50’s British motorbike to an American one – a 70’s British hi-fi amp to a Japanese one. Compare old British woodworking machines to modern European ones…it’s the same thing over and over – the British version is just the bare bones of what needs to be there – not “under engineered”, far from it… just very very simple, very well designed, very well made products, stripped down to the essentials and nothing else. Just pure functional design. Form following function. So in that respect you could say my work is actually quite traditional!

GC: Your book is a photo-essay project which allows people to join you on the guitar-building journey. How long did this book take to compile and do you have plans for anything similar – perhaps a film documentary – in the future?

Dave Best (who did the fantastic photography) came over every few weeks to the workshop for about two years. During that time I put the essays together. Then it all went to old school pal Ben Tibbs who designed the layout. The whole process took about three years but it was worth it! Hopefully the next one will be a little quicker. I wrote the text this year whilst in India. Every morning I’d write for a couple of hours prior to lunch. It was a very enjoyable process, trying to remember everything I do every day.

With a bit of luck I’ll get the photos taken soon and get the book out before too long – I really enjoy writing and plan to do more this year on my winter break.

GC: Do you aim to use tried-and-tested woods for certain elements of your guitars; or do you prefer to break the mould and go for timbers that aren’t necessarily ‘known’ to be particularly successful for certain features – yet, do you believe in innovation and pushing boundaries?

I’m pretty conservative when it comes to materials, I really understand spruce, redwood, maple, mahogany and rosewood, what there are capable of and what their limitations are, and I have really good timber stocks, so there simply isn’t really any need for me to go looking for more alternatives.

One tricky thing about my version of the design is that it requires a certain degree of sensitivity and high degree of concentration during the soundboard thicknessing stage. A regular guitar soundboard is around 3mm thick. My cylinder top soundboards can be down to 2mm. That’s thin for a steel string. But because of the shape structure they’re as strong if not stronger than a conventional soundboard.

When you’re working with tops this thin a small change in thickness makes a huge change in strength. Much more so than the difference between say 3mm and 2.8mm. So you have to be switched on – your attention undivided during this time. It helps to build a few at a time to compare. To thickness and flex, thickness and flex, to keep switching between tops to compare, flex and listen. It’s a fascinating process. You could go down the route of measuring, but I think I do fairly well by paying attention and feeling what’s going on.

GC: In today’s world of conflicting lifestyles and especially in the economic climate – what advice might you offer to anyone who is passionate about a career in guitar lutherie (or anything less than ‘conventional’ in fact) – and is struggling to keep true to their own intuition? How much have your family influences as well as other role-models been a positive guidance for you?

The best advice I could offer to someone who wants to make a living in Lutherie is to learn how to repair. There is no shortage of makers out there. Good makers at that. But there is a chronic shortage of good, reliable repairers. There is a good living to be made by those who are prepared to put the time and effort in.

Learn to repair, repair well, charge accordingly then start putting time aside for building – the public love repairers who build. I recently complied a list of well known luthiers who also used to repair – the list was enormous! Plus it’s a good way to get known, to get people through your door.

I’ll say it again….learn to repair!!!

The other thing is to be mindful of the position you put yourself in or find yourself in. I consider myself fortunate not to have debt at a time when it’s rampant, when it’s the norm, but that was also a decision. I’ve been fairly cautious financially, I’ve always lived modestly. I prefer it.

More advice? To quote Somoygi “It helps to marry well!” …so that’s where I went wrong…

I’ve met a number of makers on my last trip – we had a great time! I paid a visit to Steve Gilchrist, who is quite possibly the best mandolin maker around today, a very down to earth, articulate and amiable chap. He and I talked shop all afternoon – and a number of things he mentioned really got me thinking.

Likewise Trevor Gore and Gerard Gillet – two fantastic gentlemen both of whom make world class guitars. Trevor and Gerard put together an extremely thorough book a couple of years back which is fast becoming something of a “bible” for amateur makers. Trevor has come up with some of the most convincing “lutherie science” I’ve ever come across, and whilst my brain tends not to work in that manner, he really got me thinking about things from a different point of view which is always refreshing….time will tell what effect our meeting had.

Gerard is heaps of fun, he and I got on like a house on fire, he’s a great maker with an excellent team around him and is a wealth of knowledge and experience, and a very good man to talk to about the history of the Australian Lutherie scene which really is quite fascinating. Superb guitar makers all.

If I have to sum my approach up, these days it’s a lot more relaxed. There is a lot more openness in my approach than before. It comes from getting older perhaps. Yes, I’m always playing around with technique and method to try and produce work in a way which is more consistent or in ways that are less stressful, but woodwork is woodwork. It’s design, playability and most of all sound, that interest me and my customers the most.

Being taught woodwork by a man who was self taught (Stefan), kind of encouraged me learn traditional woodwork from books and from the “old school” technicians when I went to study design at university. As a result I’ve have a pretty good understanding of many different ways of cutting up and sticking together of bits of wood. I tend not to get too caught up in thinking one way is any better than another any more. No methods are sacred. Whatever route you take there are always obstacles to overcome, challenges to engage and compromises to be made.

This year for instance I’ve started joint tops the traditional way with rope and wedges. It’s really fun! And terribly elegant. This was after twenty odd years of using a sheet of chipboard and a bag of nails (check out my YouTube video if you don’t know what I mean) at the same time I’m really determined to keep on top of the sawdust situation, to make more shavings than sawdust, to tidy up after every single process, to avoid accumulated mess. This may sound trivial and irrelevant to a client but to me it’s all about staying “present`”. Keeping the day steady – not getting lost in the ups and downs of the day. Ending each day in the workshop knowing I’ve done my best, that the place is tidy and ready for me to return the next day to do it all again.