Tag: ES-335

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Guitars Semihollow

Gibson ES-335 Sixties Cherry

On Parkinson’s and Movies

It took me a while to realize that one of my greatest interests in science was rooted in a major passion for movies that I developed during Christmas 1985. Right before that holiday, I watched ‘Back to the Future’ for the first time. The movie immediately became my favorite because it resonated with me on multiple levels: adventure, action, love for family, and the profound concept that children can sometimes help their parents. On top of all that, there were guitars and music.

There were three scenes involving guitars, all of them crucial elements of the storytelling.

The opening scene, with the mini guitar and the massive amp, reflects a dream that all young guitarists have at some point in life: to move air—and not just air—with your music.

Then, there was the school audition scene—a major fiasco that all musicians, whether professional or amateur, are familiar with.

The third scene was a moment of redemption, and arguably the most important of the movie. After ensuring his parents’ first kiss, Marty is asked to play ‘something that really cooks.’ He launches into ‘Johnny B. Goode’ by Chuck Berry.

We all know how the scene develops: Marty loses himself in the music, moving from 1955 rock-and-roll into a frantic medley of future styles: Pete Townshend’s windmill, Angus Young’s floor-kicking, and Eddie Van Halen’s finger-tapping.

As an 8 year-old boy, I was so impressed by the energy and the power of my new idol who commanded that Gibson with such incredible motor precision and agility.

There is a profound paradox in seeing my childhood hero become the global face of a condition that robs a person of that very movement. Michael J. Fox transformed his diagnosis into a global scientific mission, and in a way, I subconsciously followed that same trail.

The Gibson ES-335—though the one in the movie was actually an ES-345—has been a lifelong dream for me. For years, it was something I could only experience in films and fantasies. Then, five years ago, I felt I was finally musically ready to take the plunge. I bought it.

After a couple of years, I met with representatives from the Michael J. Fox Foundation, and the loop was finally closed.

Every time I pick up this guitar, the timeline of my life snaps into focus: it’s the bridge between the boy dreaming in 1985 and the doctor and investor searching for a cure today. It represents the heroes who taught me to look toward a future where—through vision, science, and the right song—we finally find the rhythm to heal what was once thought broken.

Categories
Guitars Semihollow

Eastman T59/v-SB

One 335 to rule them all

But the truth is that, in my case, the story isn’t really about the guitar as much as it is about the journey. A long journey, sometimes tiring, almost a real labor. Because the 335 is a bit like the phoenix: everyone talks about it, everyone looks for it, very few have truly found it.

On paper, it could be the perfect guitar. In fact, it could be the only guitar a person would ever need. Blues, rock, jazz, detailed tones, dynamics, body, air, definition—everything. And that’s exactly the problem. When an instrument promises everything, finding the right one becomes incredibly difficult.

Because for a 335 to truly sound great, it needs very specific qualities. It has to respond to your touch, hold together when you push it, yet remain refined when you roll the volume down. It must sound full and convincing clean, and stay articulate under drive without turning to mud. It has to be manageable (I didn’t say light—that’s impossible). And when you seriously start looking for all this, you realize the price climbs… into car territory. Assuming that, at those prices, you even find the right one—and not just a beautiful jewel with no soul.

And yet, you keep searching. Because the idea that a no-compromise 335 really exists is too powerful to let go. It’s not obsession, it’s hope. And maybe that’s the beauty of it: not so much owning it, but knowing that somewhere, sooner or later, that guitar is waiting for you.

Then there’s the question no one ever asks out loud: what happens if you actually find it? Panic. Because after the perfect 335, what do you do? Close shop? End the search, the late nights comparing serial numbers, years, necks, pickups? Unsettling, almost existential questions. The real risk isn’t failing to find it—it’s finding it for real.

So maybe the answer is something else, something much healthier: finding a 335 that fits you—like this wonderful Eastman T59—that comes as close as possible to the parameters I’ve set for myself at this point in my life. A guitar that speaks my language now, not that of some hypothetical future self. Excalibur can wait. Searching for it is part of the myth, but living and playing well today is far more rock’n’roll.

In the end, the 335 isn’t a destination, it’s a traveling companion. And like all true companions, it doesn’t need to be perfect—it just needs to be right.

Categories
Guitars Semihollow

Gibson ES-335 Chris Cornell Replica

1991. I was 14, hunched over my school books while my brother, who is six years older than me, was listening to music on his Walkman. I had no idea my life was about to change in just a few minutes. I think I was reading a Latin textbook when my brother placed his headphones over my ears. It was the opening riff of “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” After an initial skeptical reaction (the volume was way too high, as it should be), I was immediately hungry for more.

1991 was a seminal year for rock—the resurgence of the last great guitar-based movement in music history. It wasn’t just Nirvana’s Nevermind; there was Pearl Jam’s Ten, U2’s Achtung Baby, RHCP’s Blood Sugar Sex Magik, R.E.M.’s Out of Time, and Metallica’s Black Album.

Then, there was a unique band, a group of four that dug deep into blues, metal, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Black Sabbath with their album Badmotorfinger. It was more than a simple musical exercise; it was an honest, raw, and profound look at the human condition. At the core of that band, Soundgarden, was a guy with curly hair, an incredible voice, immense charisma, unique songwriting skills, and great guitar technique to match. His name was Chris Cornell.

He rapidly became one of my musical heroes, in the company of legends like John Coltrane, Jimi Hendrix, Miles Davis, and Bruce Springsteen. Soundgarden’s music marked the chapters of my life, from their breakup in 1997 to their reunion in 2010. In 2017, Chris Cornell died by suicide—a terrible loss for music and millions of fans, myself included.

He used to spend Christmas in Rome, the city where I live. In 2016, he performed a concert here, but I couldn’t attend due to work commitments. It remains one of my biggest regrets. Driven by that regret and a mix of emotions—including the gratitude I feel for my brother, who introduced me to this genre—I decided to pay tribute to this story, and specifically to Chris Cornell, by building a replica of one of his signature Gibson ES-335s.

It took several months to choose the wood, the hardware, and the luthier who could truly understand the meaning of the project. It is not a mere copy of a guitar, but a genuine gesture of love and appreciation for those who enriched my life with music and guidance.