It's all very well coming up with something unusual in the world of guitar design. Take a look at this one here: It's unlike anything this particular brand has done before.
Or this one, which—well, it seems just plain weird, on any level. But how were they justified by the people who designed them, and how did they fare in the marketplace?
Here we learn from five electric makers through the years about the inspiration for change and the mixed consequences of going against the grain.
In the early '60s, National in Chicago developed a series of guitars with Res-O-Glas molded hollow fiberglass bodies, which they thought would be more cost effective to make than traditional wooden ones. The new plastic models were the Glenwood, Val-Pro (later Newport), and Studio. The striking body of the Glenwoods and Newports was later nicknamed the "map shape," because it was (rather fancifully) said to resemble an outline of the United States.
Models such as the Glenwood 99 and the Newport 88 had a bridge-mounted pickup, as well as two regular pickups, and came with no fewer than seven knobs and a three-way selector.
National's parent company, Valco, used fiberglass for other brands, too, including Supro and Montgomery Ward's mail-order Airline. There were also guitars with the unusual shapes but with conventional all-wood construction, such as National's Westwood models.
Valco boss Al Frost was convinced that plastic guitars were the future.
"In this age of true scientific progress," he said, "there are better ways to do things. Man-made materials now exist that actually are superior to those of nature alone. Products must work better, be more convenient to use, last longer, and be less subject to wear and damage in the service for which they were designed."
It turned out not to be so easy. The bodies had a tendency to develop cracks, and the process was messier and more time consuming than National had imagined. And by 1968, Valco had gone out of business anyway, taken down by an unwise purchase of the ailing Kay company.
"You have to think back to where rock was in the late '70s," he says. "For me, Woodstock in '69 was the beginning of modern-day rock, and from there it started to get a bit more sophisticated. But while the music was getting progressive, and on stage they were wearing cool clothes and had these great light shows, it seemed funny that people were still playing un-flashy guitars designed in the '50s."
"I guess the carpet didn't match the cushions, you know? My whole concept," he explains, "was to bring along something sexy and stagey, where the guitar would become part of the look, and to put quality components on the guitar so that people would want to play it."
The first three Dean models were the V, Z, and ML. The V and Z were like a Flying V and an Explorer with a figured-wood top, but the ML had a new body design that simply and cleverly combined the two into a star-shaped creation, making it one of the pointiest guitars yet. Players such as Dimebag Darrell popularized the early Deans and helped establish the new brand among metal-leaning players.
Owner CBS sold Fender in 1985 to an investor group headed by the existing president, Bill Schultz. The historic Fullerton factory was not included in the sale, and this meant American production of Fenders stopped in February '85 while the new team hunted for a new building.
They had worked on two radical solidbody designs before the sale by CBS got under way, and both would become victims of the upheaval. The first was the Performer, which in some ways was Fender's "Super Strat" competitor, but the other was an even less Fender-like concoction, the Katana. Named for a samurai sword, it looked something like a one-legged Flying V.
Introduced in 1985 with Fender or Squier brand and necessarily made in Japan like all Fender's guitars at the time, it marked a response to the fashion for unusual body shapes and the pressure from some dealers for Fender to devise its own pointy-body guitar.
Dan Smith at Fender remembered sitting down with his Mac's art program and messing around.
"I got to the point where I said yeah, this is as ugly as everybody else's," he said. "But the Katana was just too un-Fender for a lot of folks. It was hard for us to take the traditional Fender things and tweak them too far without people throwing up their arms. And in many ways that was our biggest asset and our biggest pain in the ass."