"A gentleman is someone who knows how to play the banjo and doesn't." - Mark Twain

Mark Twain

I have a confession, something I need to get off my chest. When I started out on this little project I fully intended to make a six string banjo out of a biscuit tin, that I triumphantly monikered a "banjitar". I even named this humble blog accordingly. But, and I say this with all due regret and humility, that I have unknowingly led you, kind reader, up the garden path.

As my build approaches some form of completion, I have to recognise that there is little, if nothing, of  the banjo in the genetic makeup of my instrument.

I hope that you will grant me pardon for my brashness in this matter, and think no less of me than you did when first we met. Believe me when I say, that I have truly learned an important lesson through all this to-do. I shall not to give sway to hubris so rashly in my future endeavors.

Yours in ignominy,

Vinylhed

Nothing to fret about

Okay! Back to the workshop (or the kitchen in my case). It's about time I gave my banjitar frets. This is the part of the build that has been giving me nightmares. First of all, I need to do the maths to calculate the fret spacing according to the scale length of the instrument, then I need to accurately mark where the frets should go on the fretboard, after which I must cut the grooves straight and then finally insert the frets. Easy!

There's so much that can go wrong, especially as I'm a complete numpty when it comes to maths.

The scale length of a guitar is the space from the nut (the top) to the bridge (the bottom), and for some mercurial reason I decided mine should be 26".

Luckily, I found the web is awash with clever little programs to do the fret calculations for me. Problem solved? Well, it now creates a secondary problem...How in blue blazes do you measure 1.459" with only a crappy tape measure and a 12" ruler?
To cut a long and overly tedious story short, I converted the measurements into millimeters and I was laughing!

So, with the frets marked in pencil I set about cutting the grooves into which the the fret wire would be slotted. Arming myself with the 0.022" TPI (teeth per inch) razor saw, I gingerly started to cut.

Surprisingly, for Jimmy Wild's least gifted pupil in woodwork, I managed to cut the slots straight and in the right places.

Time to bang in the fret wire with my handy rubber hammer.

(It's at this point I wish I'd had the forethought of mind to grab my camera and take some photos of this process, but I was concentrating so hard it completely slipped my mind.)

I added a wee bit of superglue to each fret, making sure the fret wire was going nowhere after I had banged it into place. It made a bit of a mess of the fretboard, but that could be sanded later. Cut the ends proud of the board, filed them smooth, and I had finished. It was time to string her up and see if my endeavors had resulted in a tuneful guitar. But that, as they say, is a story for another day.

I bet you can't wait.

Wireless technology part II

As I've been having a few issues with my guitar build, I've been sidetracked by my amp project.

If you remember my earlier post, I was going to put the workings from an old Bush amplifier into a nice retro wireless I picked up on ebay. I originally hoped to keep the radio working, but there was no way I was going to fit both of the workings into the space available.

Being completely clueless about electrics and electronics, I was going to need to be hyper careful when removing the amp parts. If I pulled out wires and damaged components, I would really be up shit creek without an amplifier.

The gods of badly thought out electrical endeavours looked kindly over me as I undertook the tricky operation. Apart from having to connect a new jack socket in place of the old din plug input and soldering longer wires to the bass and treble pots, it all went better than could've been expected.

After some fiddly and cramped screwing and bolting of the components firmly into place, I put the back on and hoped for the best.

I fitted to the back a brass handle and a couple of hooks to spool (is that the right word?) the power cable round, to make the amp slightly more portable.

The brass/gold jackplate and guitar knobs give the front a classy period look...in my not-so-humble opinion.

My girlfriend, Louise, watched with a look of terror on her face as I plugged the amp into the mains and, with a silent prayer to the gods of badly thought out electrical endeavours, I turned the knob....

There was a satisfying clunk from the knob, followed by an electrical hum twined with the light behind the dial coming on. Amazed that I hadn't received a life-threatening electric shock from the metal knob, I glanced at the still terrified Louise and then back to the amp, checking to see if there was any signs of smoke emanating from it, the flex or the plug.

Still no signs of impending danger, I twisted the knob fully, which was accompanied by a satisfying increase in the electrical humming. No fire. No explosion. It was time to take the final step and plug in my acoustic guitar.

What do you know! It works! The twangy sounds of my classical guitar were pouring forth from the speaker.  Louise's expression of fear had now turned to one of incredulity. Between you and me reader, my better half's surprise was dwarfed by my own disbelief that I had succeeded in creating a damn fine looking amp without fire, explosion, serious injury or death.

Oh, well, enough prevaricating. Time to get back to guitar making.

String theory

For those of you who I've been boring with my endeavors, pay attention, this is where things hot up! Time to string her up and hear what she sounds like for the first time.

I've fitted the tailpiece that will hold the strings. The actual tailpiece is a second hand stop bar from an electric guitar and I fashioned a steel guard to stop the metal strings cutting into the tin. It looks quite neat and tidy, if I don't say so myself.

We need to talk about nuts! To be precise, the guitar's nut which guides the strings down the neck. I've got a piece of steel I intend to use as the nut, but I've slapped in a bolt for the time being to check the hight it needs to be. The thread allows me to space the strings and move them if need be. If I make another of these, I'll maybe use a bolt for the nut as it gives a rugged industrial look.

Right! Machine heads on? Check! Bolt on? Check! Bridge on? Check! Tailpiece in place? Check! Okay, string her up and make like a banjitar god!

I now have a playable banjitar. When I say playable, I mean you can twang the strings. Without frets, I'm finding the playing of notes and chords a very tricky feat. Now, I'm no Hendrix on the old guitar, but playing my banjitar makes me feel like a complete novice.

On the bright side, I do like the tinny twang that it makes,and that's before I've cut a couple of sound holes.




In case anyone out there wants to hear how awful I sound, check out this vid and the face of a goon trying to concentrate.

I'm bored! I'm the chairman of the bored!

The fretboard glued very nicely to the neck with only a few gaps visible. I'll plug those gaps with wood filler later.

The spokeshave saw another tour of duty to plain the fretboard flush with the neck, and I still can't believe how well it came out. The neck's a little thick, but I'll wait until I've played it to judge if I need to shave any more off.

Wireless technology

As my biscuit tin banjitar will have pickups, I'm going to need an amp. Buying a cheap amp would be far too easy, and my custom banjitar deserves something special.

I've got an old amp that works just fine, but looks nasty and has a din plug input. I'm intending to put the workings into this retro-looking radio I got off ebay, and add a new socket.

Compared to the banjitar this is a piece of cake...I wish I hadn't said that!

Truss-ed in me

I lay awake last night worrying about my stiffness issues, and how I might overcome the problem of bending at a critical moment. The only thing for it was to fit a truss rod to the neck of my instrument before I glue on the fretboard.

So, with my mighty chisel of power in hand, I cut a thin groove in the centre of the neck face. Next, I placed the truss rod into the groove, encased it in glue (to stop it from rattling and a buzzin') and then slapped the fretboard on top. I don't want the action to be adjustable, so using glue, as opposed to a more flexible option, to hold the rod in place is okay in my book.

We're getting there! A bit of planing and sanding, and then the frightening task of fitting the frets.