What does owning your xx brand guitar mean to you?

[mr. beaumont]

The only guitar I have that's "brand name" has a special meaning to me is my Heritage 575, because they days when mine was made over at Heritage are gone...I feel lucky to have grabbed one while Heritage was still Heritage.

[ManyMartinMan]

Originally Posted by Mr. Paul

Wait, what ?????????

Well maybe a little bias or slight preference............ but not to the exclusion of any other brand. If all but one had to go only the best one would stay regardless of label.

[Dbone]

Originally Posted by YamahaGuy

The tuning fork logo company began making instruments long ago. I don't quite understand why some people dismiss them and their guitars so quickly claiming it's a motorcycle company. Anyway, from the bottom of their line to the highest end ones I've ever played/owned, I have never seen/heard/played one that wasn't well made and that was a total dud. I have, on the other hand, played and heard of instruments by other brands that are duds and/or poorly made. If you've ever seen a video regarding their manufacturing process you'll realize that they put a great deal of time into their woods, and their employees are highly skilled and trained. To me, Yamaha means quality, craftsmanship, and value. Not bad for a company that made your 4-wheeler.

I say this concerning any product....Not just guitars:

If the product is not made with quality and craftsmanship I do not respect the product. It would not matter how much nostalgia or history is associated with the product.

There’s a reason why I drive Toyota/Lexus ;-0. Again, not as sexy/historical as some other brands, but the quality, reliability and value proposition is there. The guy driving his Jaguar or Beamer can have it.

[Mark Stone]

Originally Posted by palsed

I was thinking today about what owning a Martin means to me. I worked hard to save for it. I am in love with the tone. They history and nostalgia and significance in musical culture makes me feel part of something special.

So what does your favorite brand mean to you?

Less and less, as time goes by and I get older. I've been a Gibson Acoustic player since the 1970s, and that has been my favorite and go-to brand. But now that I'm in my late 60s (67 next month) and looking for my main, heirloom guitar that will be with me til the end, I find I'm not thinking "brand" any longer. I'm thinking that any brand could be "the one" and I've decided to choose based on the instrument rather than the name. And, BTW, I've chosen - it's in my sig -

[guitar george]

No favorite brand. I like a lot of them. I’m the same with cars. I often switch from one brand to another. I have Epiphone, Gibson, Guild, Martin, Morgan, Taylor and Yamaki Guitars as well as a few others. Still striving for a Collings, Eastman, Santa Cruz etc. and I’d really like a custom build if I ever can afford it. Some years ago I filled out a custom build order sheet and when I saw the total for all my wants it was over $12,000.00, so, that was the end of that for me.

[rwmct]

I always liked Guild as the lesser known of the old "Big Three." And when I decided to get a guitar a few years back, and found that they had been making them ten miles away from where I live, I knew that was what I wanted. Then a pristine F-30 Std. popped up on the LTG forum, and I bought it right away.

I like it that my guitar was made just up the road, that it first went South (to someone on this forum, as it happens) then all the way across the Country to Washington State, then all the way back again.

[Cool555]

Thanks for the nostalgic and well-written story of your childhood and youth. I enjoyed reading it. Your story should be a thread of its own....maybe with a title like, "How I ended up buying/owning a Bourgeois guitar"! Just a suggestion.

Originally Posted by Deliberate1

I grew up in Lewiston, Maine in the 1960’s. At the time, it was a typical New England mill town where thousands toiled in shoe shops and textile factories for little more than $2 an hour. The refuse from those plants dumped directly into the Androscoggin River, which was identified as one of the 10 most polluted in the entire country. I smelled that flowing cesspool nearly every day on my walk to school, and marveled at the buildings along its banks whose paint was stripped bare from the clapboards by those acrid vapors. It was the kind of place that you loved only because it was home.

In time, the mills and shoe shops shut down, and state and federal law prohibited the paper mills up stream from venting their poisonous spleens into that poor river. And I moved away.

Last year, at 63, I bought my first guitar. And started taking lessons. And I found this extraordinary online resource. My headlong dive into all things guitar included something called boutique guitar shops. And a name that I knew from the past, Dana Bourgeois, was frequently mentioned, and always with great respect. I remembered that name, and perhaps the man as well, from my days in law school and the contra dance scene in Portland, in the early 1980’s. I knew him as a fiddle player back then. And I, as a long time woodwinds guy, occasionally played penny whistle at dances.

I thought nothing more of Dana until his name surfaced in the course of my immersion. And I discovered that the legendary boxes he was making were crafted in one of those behemoth mill buildings, not far from the Androscoggin River, that I would walk by on my trips “down town” as a child. It thoroughly fascinated me that he had resurrected and brought back to life at least a fraction of that old, long neglected mill building on Canal St. More than that, I was surprised at the civic pride I felt knowing that world class guitars were being made in my home town, a place I thought to be distinguished by its lack of distinction.

Eventually, I felt I needed to honor that effort, and acquired a lovely 12 fret Slope D in torified Adi and mahogany. And every time I take it out of its case, I think, we both grew up about a mile from each other. But that is only one reason why this guitar, and its maker, means something to me. It just happens to make amazing music. Dare I say, the sound of home.
David

[Jack Orion]

I first got into playing acoustic guitar because of Bert Jansch - his debut album and, obviously, his third album Jack Orion were a massive influence on me and changed the way I thought about acoustic guitar.

On both albums Bert is holding what I assume is a 000 Martin (maybe a 28 looking at the binding) so, when it came to buying my first proper guitar, a 000/OM Martin was what I wanted, and I came away with my OM28v.

Owning a Martin I feel connected to the players and guitars of the past - knowing that they are still a family owned company and that they are still making great guitars makes me proud to own one. I still think a Martin is a badge of honour amongst guitarists, particularly in the UK - if you've got a Martin it's as if you're serious about it.

I've been lucky enough to meet several people from high up in the Martin management (including Chris Martin himself, Dick Boak, and Fred Greene) and they were all very nice people who were enthusiastic about their company and products and genuinely seem to take pleasure meeting those that own them.

I also own a Collings.

Owning a Collings means something in a different way - knowing that my guitar was made without compromise, from wood hand selected by a small team (and, most likely, selected and fine tuned by Bruce Vanwart), and built with an attention to detail and finesse that I don't think I've seen in any other 'factory' built guitar, means that I hold that guitar and I feel like it's time to get serious now.

My Collings doesn't give me that same fuzzy, comfortable feeling that the Martin and its associated history does - but it does make me feel like I'm a member of a club that 'knows', as if the odd player might see me at a gig and give me a nod without feeling the need to discuss the guitar. My Collings is often not a talking point at gigs, although my Martin quite often is, but every now and then someone will go 'a Collings? Nice.' and leave it at that.

[rabbuhl]

Originally Posted by palsed

I was thinking today about what owning a Martin means to me. I worked hard to save for it. I am in love with the tone. They history and nostalgia and significance in musical culture makes me feel part of something special.

So what does your favorite brand mean to you?

I was looking for a new acoustic for a long time. I was focusing on Eastman, Faith, Furch, etc. in that you get more value for the money. In the end, I am really happy to have gotten a Martin. It has everything I want and was only a little bit more money. And it just screams quality, playability, and mojo along with higher resale value.

[Guilty Spark]

Last year I finally acquired the Martin of my dreams after a very long and winding road to finally affording it (job loss severance, as it were) and was prepared to become a lifelong Martin devotee. I really love the guitar, it's sound, the company's history...................unfortunately, a serious build issue (out of the Custom Shop, no less), the way it was handled in some quarters, and follow-up customer service after I got it back from being repaired (with entailed much hassle, about 400 miles of driving, then ultimately shipping it back to the factory) has really taken the luster out of my personal Martin odyssey. I'll forever have my Martin, but it will always be a "brand new/repaired" Martin in my mind. Not quite what I was hoping for when I ordered it, and certainly not something I expected. Somewhat sad, actually, considering I even joined the Martin Owner's Club.

If I ever get a bad case of GAS, it'll lead me to another guitar brand for something different.

[Deliberate1]

Originally Posted by Cool555

Thanks for the nostalgic and well-written story of your childhood and youth. I enjoyed reading it. Your story should be a thread of its own....maybe with a title like, "How I ended up buying/owning a Bourgeois guitar"! Just a suggestion.

Thanks for the kind words.
I have spent a bit of time at Dana's shop recently. Returning my guitar to the mothership for a "physical" and set up was the perfect excuse to peek behind the curtain. Stepping inside that old hulk of a factory, built more than a century ago, and for a far different purpose, triggered memories of my dad's warehouse not far from Dana's shop. As a kid, I worked in that near derelict of a building loading and unloading cases of toilet tissue, paper towels and other paper goods destined for local resturaunts. At $1.00 per hour, and a Ring Ding at break time, I was grateful for the job at Burger King that eventually came my way.

Dana's shop has the same musty smell as that warehouse from my past. Not at all unpleasant, but unmistakable to those of us who are no strangers to the factories of a much earlier time, built when, and because, our country was a manufacturing juggernaut. Old oil, hints of solvent, tanning chemicals, bleach and sweat. Lots of sweat.

In our age and time, we have become accustomed to certain amenities which we notice only by their absence. Before I left the shop, I hit the head. It is a time capsule. You will find no auto anything. You are obliged to unzip your own fly, flush your own toilet, turn on on your own faucet and secure your own paper towel. I was thankful for muscle memory, and successfully releaved myself without the assistance of electronic or mechanical wizardry.

The folks at Dana's shop could not have been more welcoming. Mike, the tech guru, spent a solid 45 minutes or so examining my guitar and then described exactly what he would do. And a few weeks later, when I collected it, he took the same amount of time out of his day describing what he had done and why. He slipped so seamlessly into teaching mode that I thought myself an apprentice, and he the master. Mind you, I had no appointment, figuring l'd just drop off and pick up the box when it was ready. Dana even joined in the conversation, as he sanded, by feel, not sight, the pick guard of an OM jewel box he displayed at NAMM.

As I left the shop with guitar in hand, and studied the facade of that brick behemoth I first saw with the eyes of a child more than a half century ago, it occurred to me that the great luthiers of the past likely practiced their craft in spaces equally spare yet functional. They brought to life, from silent raw materials, in simple, utilitarian workshops, musical instruments of great and lesser merit played in venues great and small. I confess no small amount of admiration, respect and envy for hands that brought to life shoes and textiles and, now, guitars of the highest caliber in the most modest of work spaces.

Should you have a hankering to visit my state, I highly recommend a visit and tour of this shop where, for once, reincarnation bested the wrecking ball. And the music proves it

Thanks all for indulging me again.
David

[Skip Ellis]

I like my Martin 000-18 and I like my Brook Torridge but only to the point that they do the job I ask them to do. Tools to me - nothing magical involved - there are a lot of others out there that sound just as good or better and are built just as well. I bought these two because of the tone and playability - the Brook is very pretty as well.

[palsed]

Originally Posted by Jack Orion

I also own a Collings.

Owning a Collings means something in a different way - knowing that my guitar was made without compromise, from wood hand selected by a small team (and, most likely, selected and fine tuned by Bruce Vanwart), and built with an attention to detail and finesse that I don't think I've seen in any other 'factory' built guitar, means that I hold that guitar and I feel like it's time to get serious now.

My Collings doesn't give me that same fuzzy, comfortable feeling that the Martin and its associated history does - but it does make me feel like I'm a member of a club that 'knows', as if the odd player might see me at a gig and give me a nod without feeling the need to discuss the guitar.

I feel the same way about my Lowden. Well-said.

[PAPADON]

Over the past 50 years I've owned high dollar Martins, Taylors and Guilds. Turns out my all time favorite is a made in Japan Sigma that I got back in the early 80's in trade for an old beat up piano. Color me confused.

[Birdbrain]

I have a lifelong self-identification with alternative, runner-up and even dead brands. Maybe it started with the first cars I bought, a Fiat convertible and an NSU sedan, back in the 60's-70s. I never saw another car like mine on the road, or in an ad or a magazine. There were no trained mechanics and few parts, and I had to work on them myself. I knew what I liked, and I didn't need peer or media validation. When my mother offered me her V8 Firebird, I preferred my 1500 lb. four-cylinder shoebox with the go-kart handling, thank you ma'am. She thought I was nuts.

That trait continued. I never bought a Windows computer, even through times when I suspected my next apple would be the last they made. I bought a house on the wrong side of town; friends thought I'd be mugged, but it was a wave of condos and gentrification that pushed me out 20 years later, at a nice profit.

Today I'm proud of my hybrid, though it's not a Prius. I'm proud it's a car, not an SUV (although I'm struggling to get it through my snowy driveway today). I'm one of the few doing pro photography with a modern Pentax DSLR, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

So is anyone surprised that I don't long for a Martin, a Taylor or a Gibson? I don't want to pay for a famous name. My Canadian guitars aren't exactly rare, but they are alternative. None of my hero musicians play them, but I'm not into cosplay anyway. I came to the brands for the value; I stayed for the quality, but I'm also happy knowing that my four Si/Pat/Godin/'Gulls never rode on a cargo ship. They were made on this continent by free, Galouis-puffing Quebeckers who were probably good guitar players themselves (there's a secret Canadian living somewhere in side of me, I'm sure).

As for my Tacoma, I'm fascinated by its provenance, the story of a 2,500-year-old tree fished out of a river to see the sun once again. That wouldn't matter if it didn't play and sound superb, but it does. I admire this lost brand's innovations, though my limited edition roundhole model has a very conventional design. And I love the town of Tacoma. My daughter attended college there, and I visited many times. If my wife wasn't a sun worshipper, I'd happily live there. So it tickles me that I discovered it and bought the guitar on the same weekend that the kid moved out of Tacoma, following graduation.

That's a long story, but you asked. My guitar choices stem from a mix of my preferred specs and my innate stubbornness and nonconformism, spiced with my quirks and personal history. Which probably makes me like so many others here...