Danelectro Baritone

My name is Dan Barrett, so owning a guitar that's called a Danelectro Baritone is essentially my birthright. That's pretty much the only reason I bought it, I think in 2002. I didn't know anything about baritone guitar at the time. I do remember that I bought it in a bass shop on Denmark Street in London. I seemed exotic and out of place there, maybe a bit neglected. I have no idea how much it cost, but I had more disposable income back then and it didn't seem too expensive.

The Danelectro guitars are famously cheap, being made out of masonite and having originated at a time when there was a gap in the market for instruments that were more accessible to people than the higher quality ones from brands like Fender and Gibson. They are proper instruments though. Jimmy Page played a Danelectro shorthorn so they must be legit.

My burgundy Danelectro Baritone

I was really taken with this weird thing. It's a fairly unpleasant colour, and it's rather ungainly. It sounded really different too - it could be a bit like a bass, or higher notes had this really clanky quality, and playing an open chord was HUGE. It had the strange power of making anything I'd written on a normal guitar sound really miserable, and I was really into that kind of thing in my 20s.

As an amplified instrument, it's only got one really useful sound which is both pickups on at once. It's noisy, as in there's quite a bit of background noise. The strings are thick, because it's tuned low - I usually tune B-E-A-D-F#-B. The neck is long, so it's a fairly physical experience to play. Even if I could shred like Eddie Van Halen (I can't) I'd struggle to do the widely-widdly stuff. I've never had it properly 'set up' so the intonation isn't perfect, and even if I wanted to the bridge is very basic - just a piece of hardwood - so there are limited options for fine tuning. I put a couple of matchsticks in there at one point. Not sure why.

Matchsticks

I rather like all these idiosyncrasies though.

I bought the Danelectro Baritone when my band at the time was still starting out. We'd done a demo and we were playing some shows. There were five of us, with 3 guitarists and a bass player. Things tended to sound a bit frantic and crowded. I had a hunch that playing a baritone guitar would help bring a more distinct voice to the music.

It didn't really work, because a) we weren't very good; and b) I didn't switch wholesale to playing baritone guitar, so the logistics of carrying another instrument around and only playing it on the odd song were a hassle and rather indulgent.

So I stopped playing this guitar with my main band. Over the years I have returned to it for other projects. Even though I've had it for 16 years I don't think I've ever really done it justice. Silkworm (one of my absolute favourite bands) often featured a baritone with guitar and drums in a three-piece - I had dreams of doing something like that. I'm not much of a bass player, but I thought I could do something less conventional and still be filling out space in the music.

I had a project where it was just me with the Danelectro Baritone and a drummer. This was at a time when 2-piece bands were a thing. Or, the first time I remember them being a thing. That was an experience, because I had to play more just to fill up space, but also recognise that there was only so much I could do. In addition, I was very exposed so there wasn't any room for mistakes. The logistics of being in a 2-piece were interesting too. Less banter. Less beer. Very efficient.

I had another project where I was playing with a guitarist and a drummer. This was like the three-piece ideal I'd described, except it was very much instrumental post-rock rather than 'songs' with vocals. This was also an experience, because the other two musicians were very good and had been playing together for years, developing their own innate understanding and musical language. It was a bit of a stretch - a workout even. Still, things came together really well and we'd got to a stage where we were ready to play a show. We were rehearsing in a squat in east London which had the added bonus of friendly people being around to tell us how good we sounded.

My overriding memory of my Danelectro Baritone was the three-piece's last rehearsal. Things were sounding good. Suddenly there was a shout of "fire! fire!", a moment of silence to process it, and then we ran out of the building. Stood at a safe distance I watched the place go up in flames in a matter of minutes. Thankfully everybody got out, but some people had lost everything. It was a strange experience - I must have been watching and waiting there for several hours. I was a few steps removed from the situation - having a small stake in what was going on, but really just being an observer.

The fire brigade wouldn't let anybody back in for some time because it wasn't safe, but eventually they did. Downstairs was dark and wet, totally transformed. Sometimes that initial image of the burnt-out downstairs appears in my dreams.

I went into the back room upstairs where we had been rehearsing, and found my guitar undamaged save for a covering of soot. I packed up quietly and went home. The three-piece never played again.

I still feel like one day I'll do justice to this instrument because it really suits me somehow. Big, a bit awkward, but it can really hold things together given the chance.