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The gourd banjo was one of those things that could
have been forgotten. It teetered on the edge of awareness
for the last century. Outshined by its finely carved,
pearly-hewn offspring, which was so readily accepted
by the upper class. Most people just forgot where the
banjo originated… at the bottom of the barrel.
But as always, there are a few who know the truth. And
it is their job to bring it to light. With the help
of great performers and skilled craftsmen, the gourd
banjo has been re-born into the twenty-first century.
I had played banjo for seven or eight years before I
ever heard of a gourd banjo. I had even built a few
traditional banjos prior to my knowledge of the old
gourd style. The first time I heard one on a record
I imagined this gigantic banjo letting out these low
grumbles and I had to know what it was. It was shocking
to see the humble gourd as the creator of these tones.
I was amazed at their simplicity and ruggedness, and
to think of the people who first made these instruments
out of whatever was lyin' in the yard, made me re-think
my building process. So I set out to make one.
I had plenty of gourds, wood, skin, and tacks. The whole
idea of simplicity and necessity drove me through the
process. No pearl. No frets. Just banjo.
So the first step was to shape a neck. Not having to
worry about fret placement gave me the freedom to be
really artsy with my profile, so I loosely copied an
old 1850's style neck by Joel Sweeney. The whole neck
shaping process was finished in about three hours, significantly
less than a fretted neck. I used 7 or 8 coats of tung
oil for the finish, and buffed it to a shine with a
rag.
Once the neck was complete I drew a 10 inch circle
onto my gourd and lopped the top off. The gourd was
full of seeds and fibers so that needed to be cleaned
out (which took the most time of all). The skin was
soaked in hot water and stretched over the gourd, then
hammered into place with old furniture tacks. I was
able to save enough scrap from cutting out the neck
to make the stick that runs through the gourd. The last
step was to cut a soundhole. I slid the neck into the
gourd and strung it up. I used fiddle pegs for the tuners,
and fat nylon strings. These banjos are best suited
for low tunings. I'd have been satisfied with something
that just looked like a banjo, but this was a fully
functional monster.
What really was born from that first experience was
a deeper respect for the old craftsmen, and a madder
passion to build more banjos. So when number two began
I was really excited to try some new ideas. So excited
in fact, that I cut myself on the ol' band-saw.
I thought about safety for a while, and then a good
friend from Japan (who happens to be an amazing banjo
player) came to visit. He fell in love with #1 so I
decided #2 would be for him. I had one week before he
left, and I wanted him to take it home. So I went down
to the shop and got to work.
Here are some pics of #2 upon completion (with one day
left). I wanted to give it some japanese style so I
used a sumi-e bamboo design for the soundhole. The neck
is walnut and the fingerboard is cocobolo.
 
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