Guitar Industry Voices gathers candid perspectives from across the guitar world—with a simple goal: to spark thoughtful conversation about guitar culture and the retail ecosystem, from brands and builders to retailers, artists, and players alike.
VOL. 01 • ISSUE 1
Guitar Industry Voices is meant to be a simple, straightforward series about the business side of the guitar world: short perspectives from people who build, sell, and play. As a lifelong guitarist with a long career in brand, product, and retail marketing, I’m using this space to share issues brands, shops, and players face—and hopefully inspire discussion about what’s working, what’s not, and what can be improved.
I want this series to evolve into something genuinely useful for the people behind the scenes, so feel free to use the link at the end to send me any thoughts, comments, or future topic ideas.
To start things off, this issue’s question was simple: What’s one thing you wish more people understood about your corner of the guitar world?
Tylor Fisher, General Manager, Dave’s Guitar Shop
“We live in a time that is filthy rich with good quality guitars. Stuff is better than ever and widely available. We all need to remember guitars are tools intended to bring joy and spark creativity. Find something that sparks that in you and just enjoy it.”
My takeaway
This sounds like a feel-good reminder, but it’s also a sharp read on the market: the quality floor is so high now that “it’s well made” barely narrows anything down. The harder part is choosing—because there are a dozen great options for every classic you already trust. That’s why “spark” matters: it’s shorthand for fit, identity, and inspiration… the stuff that gets you to actually pick the guitar up instead of continuing the endless comparison loop. In other words: we don’t need more adjectives—we need clearer reasons a particular instrument belongs in your hands.
A question it raises
In a world where almost everything is good, what’s the clearest way to help a player confidently self-select the right guitar without turning the decision into a research project?
A Well-Known Independent Luthier
(Who Wishes to Remain Anonymous)
“A couple of things that I wish customers understood about my industry:
1 — Deposits and scheduling. I have only a certain number of spots in my build queue per year. Once an order is placed, it books off all of the time that it will take to build the guitar, plus all of the parts and materials. If someone wishes to cancel their order, I have no choice but to build their guitar even if they don’t intend to pay for it in the end. I’m already invested, and if they do not buy it, it then becomes my job to sell their completed instrument at the completion of the build. The normal cost to consign an instrument for sale at the retail level is 25%, so that’s what a deposit really covers: it covers the cost for me to resell the instrument for the customer. Many people ask for their deposit back, but what they are really asking is for me to sell their guitar for them at no cost. This is a very frustrating, though rare circumstance, and I wish more people understood what a deposit is for, and why it’s a very fair part of any business, especially the bespoke craft industry.
2 — Understanding nuanced building and details. Having someone compare two different guitars—one from a mass manufacturer and one from a bespoke craftsman—couldn’t be further apart. When you order a handmade instrument, you’re ordering all the attention to detail, completely different parts, materials, and techniques, and it’s just not an apples-to-apples comparison. Even comparing instruments from one builder to another can be very, very different.
3 — Realizing that any small builder’s biggest competitor is their own instruments being sold on the used market. Building custom guitars inherently means that a customer is choosing all of the details of an instrument, so just buying used means you’re buying someone else’s idea of the perfect guitar. Getting a bespoke guitar, in my view, is all about getting exactly what you want.
These are a few of the challenges I face, but honestly, the positives are too many to even mention and far outweigh any challenges.”
My takeaway
This well-respected, high-end luthier is describing something players don’t always see: a custom build is less like buying a product and more like reserving real capacity in a small manufacturing calendar. Once a slot is booked, time, parts, and opportunity cost are already in motion—even if the customer’s excitement later turns into a change of heart. His deposit point is really about fairness in that reality: a cancellation doesn’t “undo” the work; it often turns the builder into the person responsible for reselling a guitar that was built around someone else’s choices. The broader takeaway isn’t “customers are wrong,” it’s that bespoke economics don’t behave like mass retail, and confusion starts when we treat them like they do.
A question it raises
What’s the most buyer-friendly way to explain deposits, scheduling, and cancellations upfront so expectations stay clear—and nobody feels surprised later?
David Plummer, Owner & CEO, Zhangbucker Pickups
“The only thing I could think of would be for customers wanting a humbucker set to not just describe the desired tone for the bridge. They often say it as, ‘The set I have is too bright.’ It is extremely rare for a neck humbucker to be described as too bright, so sometimes I have to pry out of them what the existing neck humbucker is like and what they don’t like about it—which almost always turns out to be that it’s dull or muddy.
So any customer wanting a humbucker set needs to tell me what’s going on in all three positions in the existing set, and what you want improved in each position.”
My takeaway
David’s point is basically: “Help me help you,” but it’s bigger than pickups. A lot of players can describe what they dislike (“too bright”), but not what’s happening across bridge, neck, and middle—where the real story usually lives (hello, muddy neck). And if you’re shopping a set like it’s only a bridge problem, you’re almost guaranteed to chase fixes that don’t stick. This is where better questions beat better adjectives: the more a brand or retailer can guide the diagnosis, the less money gets lit on fire in the great pickup swapping ritual we all pretend is “research.”
A question it raises
What would change if pickup brands and retailers made “three-position diagnosis” the default way players describe problems and shop for solutions?
Dave Stephens, Owner & CEO, Stephens Design Pickups
“‘Make the industry better?’ If they’re going to sell pedals, for example: stop doing glitzy recording-studio demos that won’t sound like that at home.
These days, if I buy something for gear, I go watch the worst demo videos from bad players—because that’s probably what it will sound like.
And more broadly: a lot of tone outcomes live in the unglamorous details people skip—especially wiring and harness choices.
A pet peeve of mine is guitar harnesses. It’s at least a third or more of your tone. I currently won’t even sell a set of my work unless they will use my harness, and they will need to remove the harness in their LPs. I’ve never found a great harness in almost all guitars. Back when I started, I did a trade job with an up-and-coming luthier: he built a great Mary Kay Tele in trade for me jamming out a print brochure to take to NAMM that year. I made the deadline just barely. The guitar was a beauty… until I played it. It sounded dead. The pickups went back for rewind, but still the guitar sounded bad. Finally, I opened it up and found the single coils had their leads removed and replaced with braided wire. I got it in my head that I could make better pickups and bought Jason Lollar’s book of the basics of actually making pickups. The Tele also had four switches for different sounds; I removed all the trick switches and put the single coils back to just cloth-covered hookups. The guitar exploded with great sound! Adding lots of switches is a tone killer deal. Luthiers seem to know little about harnesses other than book stuff.
Two months ago I sent out a set—my best one—and he wrote that the ‘tech’ did not install my harness, because he said it looked like the Gibson harness. I told them my warranty is not valid until the entire harness gets installed, which also includes the switch wiring—an all-important source of capacitance. They replaced the stock harness for mine and were shocked at the difference and big improvement in sound. I discovered Jupiter Condenser Company three years ago; when I replaced the original NOS vintage Sprague ‘Bee’ capacitor with theirs, it sounded identical! Anyone can paint a cap with color codes to look old, but the sound isn’t there. Jupiter does them right. Pretty much any and all guitars can be vastly improved by building an intelligently designed harness with intentional use of each part of it all—caps, pots, the right braided wire, the vintage wiring method. It’s essential to make a harness for the pickups and tune it to the guitar.”
My takeaway
Dave is basically asking for integrity in two places: what we promise (demos) and what we deliver (real-world setup and wiring). When demos are overly produced, they create expectations a normal room can’t match—and that disappointment doesn’t just hit one brand; it trains people to distrust the whole category. At the same time, even great gear can fall flat if the “last mile” is sloppy—harness parts, wiring choices, and installs can make the product sound like something it isn’t. Put together, it’s a reminder that trust isn’t built by louder marketing—it’s built by tighter alignment between the story and the lived result.
A question it raises
What would it look like if gear marketing and retail support aimed for the same standard—honest demos and simple “install-to-win” guidance that helps buyers get the promised result at home?
Andy Wood, Guitar virtuoso,
professional musician + songwriter
“1 — Invest your time into the music you’re passionate about. Don’t worry about what’s trending, because by the time you chase the trend and release your project, that trend is gone. Follow authenticity.
2 — Endorsements: Never forget that the artist endorses the gear, not the other way around. Just because a company gives you a discount or free gear—or even puts you on their website—that doesn’t mean that the general listener will be invested in you and your music. Inversely, if you put out killer stuff that connects with the target audience or general public, then everyone will care about the tools you used to make the art.”
My takeaway
Andy’s describing the direction demand actually flows: music that connects creates attention, and attention creates curiosity about tools—not the other way around. That’s why trend-chasing is usually a losing game; by the time you catch up, the moment has moved on, and the attempt can read as borrowed identity rather than earned voice. His endorsement point is equally clarifying: being on a brand’s roster doesn’t make an audience care—making something that hits people does. Endorsements work best as confirmation of real use and real connection, not as a shortcut to relevance.
A question it raises
What would change if endorsements were treated more like “proof of real use” and less like a badge brands hand out?
Gil Yaron, Owner & CEO, Gil Yaron Guitars
“IF YOU’RE NOT IN LOVE WITH GUITARS — DON’T DO IT!”
My takeaway
Gil’s line is short, but it’s not just motivational—it’s a filter. In guitars, players and retailers can usually sense when a brand is “touring the scene” versus when someone genuinely cares about the craft, the culture, and the people buying the product. And that care shows up in the unglamorous places: consistency, follow-through, service, honesty, and how you respond when something goes wrong. In a trust-heavy category, love isn’t branding—it’s operational.
A question it raises
What are the most reliable signals—beyond marketing—that tell you a brand is truly worth trusting long-term?
These quotes are, in a way, small “translation moments”—each person is trying to explain what they wish more people understood about their corner of the guitar world. And reading them together, I’m struck by how often the friction isn’t about whether the gear is good—we have plenty of great gear—but about how easily things get misunderstood along the way. Whether it’s how custom work is structured, how tone problems get described, how demos shape expectations, or how endorsements really function, the common thread is simple: when the “why” and the “what to expect” are clearer, everything runs a little smoother. Not perfectly—just with fewer avoidable disconnects.
If you have any reactions, comments, or questions sparked by this issue, send me a note. I’m always looking for better prompts to pose in future installments, and I may feature selected responses in a future issue (with permission—anonymous is always fine). Next month’s prompt: What’s one practical change that would improve communication or collaboration between brands, artists, and retailers?