Mediocre Polymath

This is true, pirate's facilities could probably stand to be staffed better, or at all, but they do at least have luxurious amenities like fire escapes and up-to-code wiring. That's more than can be said for a lot of studios in London.

Latest step is a much smaller job. I just got some 12 mm and 6 mm dowel, and cut short plugs for each of the unwanted holes. The 12 mm section was for the back, where a bigger wider set of holes had been drilled part-way through, presumably to allow for the fitting of some switches with short bushings. The 6 mm went in the front. Both pieces were fairly tightly fitted so I didn't need to clamp them, though I did put some tape over the lowest one to hold things in place. I trimmed off the excess material with a chisel and sanded it all down. I'll need to put a few dabs of lacquer on there and sand it some more before I spray the body, because otherwise that end-grain is going to show through.

Good call on the lighting stand. I've got some painting to do soon and it's given me an idea. I don't have a lighting stand but I do have a similarly sturdy and be-tripodded bike maintenance stand. I've always used the W S Jenkins grain filler that Tonetech sell. Not sure if it's good or not really as I don't have much to compare it to, but it's another option if you need one.

I used to rehearse with a band in one of Pirate's locations in London. The room we used had a Rumble 800 into a 4-ohm 6x10 cab. Quite often we'd get there and every knob on the bass amp was turned up to the max, as well as most of the knobs on the guitar amps. Bear in mind this was a room about the size of the living room in a typical victorian terrace. We assumed someone was doing it as a joke, but then one day I ended up there about 20 minutes early, and heard the metal band that rehearsed in the room in the slot before ours. They really were running everything flat out all the time.

It's a matter of tradition for me that every time I put in a big order with Digikey or CPC, at least one of the components I've bought will turn out to be wildly off spec – we're talking resistors rated to 600 volts the size of my thumb, or surface mount capacitors the size of a grain of sand.

Thanks. In other news, I'm currently trying to order some of the electric gubbins I'll need to finish this job, and generally raging at the electronics gods. Why is it that if you need, say, a 500k blend pot and two 500k audio taper pots, every shop will only have one or the other in stock, or they'll have both in stock but with different bushing lengths, or shaft types, or bushing diameters! Then when you finally find a shop that has an acceptably close-enough set of components, they don't have any barrel jacks, or knobs! Every time I place an order for guitar parts I end up having to buy like six small and inexpensive items from three or four different shops, paying as much for shipping as I do for parts. This is despite each shop, in theory, selling everything I need. As it is, I think I'm going to have to get the knobs, strap buttons and one of the two types of pot from Northwest, the output jack, other kind of pot and pickup rings from Armstrong and the fretwire from Tonetech.

So, having sorted out the damage to the back, it was time to figure out what to do about the damage on the front. This wasn't as bad as the great big hole, but it was ugly, and in a very visible spot on the front of the instrument. Here's a picture of it after I'd finished the sanding, the black lacquer dust that got into the grain makes the detail of the damage easier to see in a photo. I decided that, as with the hole in the side, I was going to have to make a bigger but neater hole if I was going to patch this cleanly. First I drilled two 20-mm diameter holes centered on the existing screw holes for the Roland GK pickup. I used a forstner bit, so the holes are completely flat at the bottom. The drill stand meant that I was able to make each hole exatly 3 mm deep. Once that was done, I used the router base for my dremel to join the two holes up and create a uniform 3-mm deep channel where the gouge was. In theory I probably could have done all this with the dremel, but the plunge functions of that router base are really wobbly and unreliable, so I prefer to pre-drill and then have it set at a fixed depth. Here's the finished channel, and the maple inlay piece I shaped to fit inside it. This was scrap rock maple from an old guitar build, painstakingly shaped and measured out, not – as it unfortunately looks – the stick from an ice-lolly that I fished out of a bin. This was glued in with the help of an enormous brick of PTFE (non stick!), trimmed to shape and planed level. The plane I used for this has a blade that I ground into a slightly convex shape, so I can use it on surfaces like this without worrying about a sharp corner digging in. And here's the finished patch. (I fixed that little notch in the right hand side of the bridge cutout).

I should mention that @Chienmortbb very kindly threw in the Roland midi pickup and its associated internal gubbins gratis, but after an afternoon of reading spec-sheets and sketching ideas, I decided that this wasn't something I wanted for this bass. It would have complicated the project – particularly the wiring – massively, and given that I don't have the accompanying floor unit (and no plans to acquire one) it didn't seem worth the hassle. I'll put it up in the recycling forum when I get a moment to properly inventory what bits are there, because I'm sure it's of use to someone. Having ruled that out, I started going through the steps I'd need to take to restore it to stock condition. I decided, after a fair while spend staring and mumbling to myself, that the hole in the side called for drastic measures. If I was to make this bass look decent and return it to its original configuration (with the strap button on either side of the bridge) I needed to plug the hole, but the current routing (if you can call it that) was so raggedy that squaring it off well enough to glue in a plug would be near impossible. Therefore, I grabbed my chisels and a sharp tenon saw and cut out the whole section. No way out but through! After tidying this new gouge, I cut a piece of wood from some scrap timber I had in my heap of scrap timber (everyone should have a good heap). This was planed and finessed into shape. I used rasps and sharp little chisels to cut the recess for the control cover. Then slathered the whole thing in titebond and left it overnight. Once the glue had set up, I carved away the excess with rasps and files. I'll fill in the remaining little gaps with epoxy once I've sorted out the other things.

Yeah that mod is definitely on my list of priorities. I also need to do it with my other headless bass, as that can be really hard to turn sometimes.

So this is going to be my first post in the build diaries forum that's actually describing an ongoing project. A few weeks ago, I gave in to impulse and decided to buy @Chienmortbb's headless Hohner "The Jack". I'd been circling this project bass for a while because I was on the hunt for some decent (but not astronomically expensive) headless bass hardware. I didn't like the idea of cannibalizing a bass that looked more-or-less salvagable, but I figured I'd keep an eye on it just in case he decided to split it up for parts. The longer I stared at it, and at the complex thru-neck multi-laminate-body design that I'd been working on, the more I realized that a cheap, lightweight and compact bass was something I needed/wanted far more than the custom bass I'd designed. That was a bass that would probably take me several months and end up costing the best part of grand to make. So I contacted Chienmort and said I'd take the Hohner off his hands. It arrived the week before last, packed with great care and attention, and I was able to take stock of what needed to be done. For anyone who hasn't had a quick look at the original listing, the story of this bass is that it was retrofitted with a Roland midi pickup system by a previous owner. This meant it had three extra holes drilled into the control cavity for switches, a recess cut into the front to fit the pickup under the strings (which the previous owner appears to have done with his teeth) and a massive square-ish hole Boo-Radleyed into the side to accomodate the 13-pin output connector. Whatever I did, I knew that I was going to need to refinish the bass. So the first order of business was to strip off the finish – or as much of the finish as needed stripping away. I tried to use chemical stripper again, and met with exactly the same results as last time I tried to use it on a guitar, which is a whole lot of bugger all. Each application only penetrated into the top few microns of paint, and I probably would have made just as much progress with just a metal scraper on its own. I gave up and switched to an orbital sander, which went much better. My aim was not to go down to the bare wood (solid-colour instruments are always solid colour for a reason) but just to sand until the scratched top layer was gone. With that done, I was ready to start patching up the damage.

Righty. It actually stopped raining, so I got distracted working on my new project. The clouds have settled over south London again though, so I should wrap this tale up. Having reattached the neck and planed/sanded the fingerboard level (with an ever-so slight bow to it, as advised by luthiers online), I fitted the new adjustable bridge that I'd gotten from Thomann, using the old masking-tape/double-sided-tape/sandpaper trick to match the curve of the feet to the curve of the top. As you can probably see, even with the adjusting mechanism all the way down, this bridge is a good 3 cm taller than the old one, but still allows for a much lower action. While I was making these repairs I realized that the bung that holds the endpin in place was horribly loose. Many years of being dropped, dragged across the floor and generally knocked about by surly teenagers had mashed up the end-block pretty bad. I didn't have a way to fix that, so instead my wife quickly turned a replacement on her lathe at work. The new one is way bigger, but still a little loose – that's how badly mashed up it is. Finally, before I strung it up, I took a minute to strip the black paint from the tailpiece, as that was made from the same dense wood as the fingerboard, and they look better as a matched set. Here's the finished, revived version of Marylou, strung with a set of low-tension nylon strings. With these changes made, Marylou became much much easier to play (she's currently set up with a slightly silly action of about 7-8 mm on the G string). She was also a lot louder, to an extent that shocked me when I started tuning her up. I think the combination of reattaching the top properly and increasing the break angle really got things resonating. As a slightly frustrating postscript, when my tendon injuries cleared up and I no longer felt uncomfortable or nervous playing Marylou, I decided to put the d'Addario's back on. The nylon strings are a bit dull and clacky in a way I don't like. The d'Addario's were nowhere to be found however. I've turned the house upside down looking for them and have been forced to conclude that I must have thrown them away in a fit of hand-injury-related pique.

Still raining. Where was I? Ah yes. The neck. This was a much less complicated process than the body fixes. The first order of business was to scrape off all the glue from the heel and tidy up the sufaces where the fingerboard had been taken off. Again, I didn't take any pictures of that process, I think because my hands were covered in mushy old glue and I didn't want to touch my phone. I unscrewed the tuner plates and spent an evening cleaning the corrosion off the tuners. I oiled them and generally tried my best, but they're still absolutely terrible. I should probably replace them, but I'd be nervous about getting something that's the wrong shape to follow the specific curve of the pegbox. This picture shows the corrosion and also the old epoxy and a piece of hand-cut brass tuning peg. Also the scrape marks that suggest someone just tuned the E string with a pair of pliers for quite a long time. Here's the gluing set-up for the neck, you can see the heel, now cleaned and denuded of it's many-layered strata of glue. And a bonus picture that shows just how tiny a regular electric bass looks next to a double bass neck. After I'd gotten both heel and neck pocket squared up and made shipshape, I started the process of shimming and reinforcing the pocket to get the neck angle right. Luckily the basic geometry of the neck joint was all sound -- it was inept execution that did for the last repair, not a fundamental problem with the bass itself. You can see some of the walnut veneer (it was what I had to hand) that I used for the final adjustments. It's just being dry-fitted here. My wife had the smart idea of using a racheting webbing strap to hold the neck firmly in place while the glue set up. I was very careful not to over-tension things and fold the sides in on themselves, only applying the bare minimum amount of force. Here's what the glued up joint looks like now. Not pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but it's held for the last seven or eight years with no issues.

More rain. After I'd cleaned all the glue and torn fragments of wood out of the neck pocket (not a process I took any pictures of), the first order of business was to reattach the various pieces that meet at the neck block (by that I mean the solid piece of timber inside the body that the neck is glued to, not sure if it has a proper name). The top was still securely attached to this block, as was the right-hand side piece. The back was completely detached from it (along with having parted from the top 15–20-cm of the sides) and the left side piece was detached as well. I think these splits had their origins in one of the historic neck-smashy incidents. Like, they were violently snapped off the block then, and either no glued back into position or not glued back well. The steam might have separated an earlier repair, but I don't think those repairs were more than surface-level. I used a long thin scraper to clean the surfaces inside these splits and then lashings of titebond (injected deep into the joints with a syringe). I considered hide glue, but I was doing this indoors during the winter, and really didn't want my house smelling of boiled hoof. I know titebond's not traditional for proper luthierie, but I figured there should be some leeway if you're working on a plywood bass that looks like it was dragged behind a car. Here's a picture of the clamping arrangment for glueing up the side piece. It also shows the cleaned up inside of the neck pocket, with no more manky glue. I held off on glueing the veneers and patches into the pocket until after I'd closed everything up and got it secure. This second picture was taken while glueing up the back. You can never have too many clamps. I have at least twice as many now, but there's always room for more. I also noticed while moving it around that about a 30-cm-long section of the top had come away from the sides at the bottom of the bass. I again used scrapers to clean this out before injecting glue into the gap and clamping. Some of the more knowledgeable readers might be wondering how I kept the sound-post in place through all of this. The answer is that I honestly don't know. I forgot that it wasn't glued into position. Kindly it obliged by not falling out despite all the bashing and squeezing and shifting around. I didn't remember it was there until I was stringing the bass up weeks later.

Around the time that I made the decision about Marylou's neck, I was putting in an order with StewMac in the US for a different project. So I added a thing called a "steam needle" to my basket. This is essentially just a long, hollow 2-mm-diameter needle attached to the end of a length of rubber hose. The idea is that you attach it to a source of pressurized steam and use it to heat the inside of glue joints. (I believe these days luthiers have mostly swapped over to using foam-cutting hot-wires, but this was still the standard tool back then). I didn't have a source of pressurized steam, but I figured I could find a manky old espressso machine or something. I hit paydirt about three months later, when I was idly looking around a local charity shop. I think the staff were a little baffled when a customer loudly exclaimed "PERFECT!" and skipped to the counter grinning and carrying a crappy carpet steam-cleaner from the 90s. I'd hoped I could get the neck off in one piece, but I realised that it would be very difficult to do that without taking off the fingerboard, so that was the first order of business. There was daylight visible under the upper part of the board, near the nut, so I assumed this wouldn't be too hard. I was wrong. While the upper part was barely attached, the lower part was securely glued in with some very old, very hard and difficult glue. It took many hours of fighting with heating and steaming, and multiple scrapers and pallet knives before I was able to lever the thing off. (This picture also shows my weird yellow carpet steamer). The fight to get the neck off was comparably straightfoward. I drilled a few tiny pilot holes with a hand-drill and pushed the needle in. Into the large voids in the joint, as it turned out. Below is what the heel looked like when it finally came off (with much stretching and squelching). From what I could see, I think it was only really properly stuck to the sides of the pocket, which weren't really attached to the neck block anymore. No idea how Marylou hadn't just folded in half under tension at some point. And here's the shredded interior of the neck pocket. You can see some of the damage from its various falls here. On closer inspection, I thought I could see evidence of at least one prior neck re-attachment before her last one (different colours and textures of glue). There was also a lot of grain tear-out that would need to be repaired. So. That was step one done. I had detached the bits that needed to be detached, and without making them any more broken than they were to begin with. The fingerboard, incidentally, appeared to have originally been dyed/painted black (as can be seen on the back of the extension). This had been scraped off the front some time in the distant past though, revealing an absolutely enormous slab of very nice wood (a very uniform rosewood or perhaps Pau Ferro). I'll continue the tale with the actual fixing soon. Unless it stops raining, and then I'll get back to my other projects.