Here’s an outtake from the book, an interview I conducted with Adrian Turner back in 2011 (I think) about not only the history of the Tri-Sonic pickup but also those that are in the Red Special.

The interview was conducted by email, so any typos or other grammatical inaccuracies are mine  – Simon Bradley 2019

The origins of the Tri-Sonic pickup are firmly rooted in earlier European pickup manufacture. Coil type and base-plate assemblies are typical of the central European manufacturers (such as Fuma in Germany). These types of pickups were popular in the UK throughout the 1950’s under various brand names. Primarily designed for fitting to cello guitars, they were mostly fairly low output affairs, not ideally suited to solid body instruments.

Jim Burns had been using similarly constructed pickups, reproduced in the UK and adapted with different top covers, on a handful of solid body instruments manufactured in the mid to late 1950’s.

In 1959, Burns teamed up with Henry Weill and produced a small range of solid body ‘Burns Weill’ instruments, with complete electrical assemblies supplied and manufactured by Weill. These units were noticeably hotter, with visual influences similar to early Guyatone manufactured solid guitars, starting to appear in the UK in the late 50s.

As 1960 approached, Burns was keen to follow his own solo path and the Burns Weill partnership ended.

Burns new range of guitar designs to meet the new decade, were relatively thin, small bodied instruments (probably governed by the availability and size of quality timber, at this frugal time). Scaling down the size of the pickups made them more visually correct, whilst also allowing space for his innovative and rather complex (often confusing) control options. There was an awful lot going on inside early Burns instruments.

Burns’s pickups had stayed faithful to a proven formula but now appeared with flattened chrome covers with large holes punched into the top face (originally to allow for exposed magnets). Output of the units was extremely high for this period.

The Tri-Sonic made its first outing in two different versions and sizes. The upmarket ‘Artist’ and ‘Vibra-Artist’ guitars originally featured three separate small casing type Tri-Sonic’s with staggered, exposed Alnico pot magnets.

The more affordable ‘Sonic’ guitar featured a pair of slightly larger Tri-sonic’s, visually the same, but lacking the exposed magnets. Originally a single Alnico bar magnet was placed internally with a gloss plastic insert sandwiched beneath the covers, visible through the holes. It would be this larger cased variant which would remain in production throughout the decade and was the type purchased and fitted to the Red Special.

This larger version was more economical to manufacture for a few reasons. It used a slightly heavier gauge magnet wire, which made it far easier and quicker to assemble – and far less susceptible to manufacturing error/breakage (although this led to a bulkier coil, hence the slightly larger size of the units). The use of a single non- exposed bar magnet also saved both time and cost, when compared to fitting the individual exposed magnets, which needed riveting individually to the metal base-plates.

After the first few months of production, the larger pickups lost the Alnico bars which were replaced by two Ceramic block magnets, butted together to form a solid ‘bar’ along the length of the pickup. These Ceramic magnets are the type found in the Red Special’s pickups.

As various different Burns Guitar models appeared throughout the 1960’s, many were fitted with different adaptations of the Tri-Sonic, voiced to suit each instrument respectively (all marked with the standard Tri-Sonic logo). Magnet types were extremely varied (Alnico 2 bar, Alnico 2 pot, Alnico V pot, Alnico 3 Block (rare), Ceramic block and Ceramic pot magnets).

Each different magnet type and coil assembly producing tonal and output variations. A common mistake often made, is the belief that every Tri-Sonic manufactured in the 1960s will produce an accurate Red Special sound. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

In 1965 Burns and his then partners sold the company to Baldwin.

Around this time a degree of rationalisation seems to have occurred in pickup production.

Throughout the 1960’s Burns had not only produced Tri-Sonics, but also several other types of innovative pickups. Many of these units shared similar magnet assemblies and coils in varying different sizes. It is unknown if an attempt to ‘use up’ all existing stock ensued – or if a policy of ‘one size fits all’ was adopted, but for a while much bulkier coil assemblies appeared, rather uncomfortably ‘squeezed’ into Tri-sonic cases.

Although, both physically and visually larger, this does not mean that they are over-wound or hotter. It simply means that they were manufactured using a different size former and the thickness of the protective insulation was greater. It is these large type ‘rationalisation’ coils, which are present in the Red Special’s pickups.

Most regular Tri-Sonics from the mid 60’s period tend to average between 6.5 Kohms and 7.5 Kohms. The Red Specials pickups are no exception, with the centrally located pickup being the slightly hotter of the three.

Production of the tape-wound coil assemblies supplied to Burns, had always varied considerably. Examining a selection from each year, clearly indicates that coils were obtained from various sources. This is evident in the different materials, construction techniques and grades of magnet wire and hookup wires. Very early Tri-Sonic’s are often internally identical to Henry Weill’s units. Much later coils are akin to the Italian EKO manufactured items. Doubtless, there were numerous other armature suppliers too.

Like many products which are produced in relatively large quantities – they can often be haunted by undesirable quirks – especially if pushed beyond the use they were originally intended for. Such issues have been addressed on the Red Special.

The plated pickup covers were originally designed to be held in place by the spring action of the steel base-plates alone. This was originally aided during assembly by the application of liberal amounts of rubber cement. This not only helped to ‘glue’ the casings together, but also had an insulating affect and soaked up any internal movement or vibration. In later production, this was changed to a black bitumen based product – for the same purpose.

Over a number of years, this adhesive tends to completely dry out, leaving behind either a mustard coloured dust residue or a black powder coat type effect, visible on the inside of 60s pickups. Not only can this cause the covers to randomly spring off (just what you need midway through a performance) but can also cause severe feedback and uncontrollable whistling at volume. Quite why Burns never originally soldered the casings together (like modern units) is a bit of a mystery.

Tri-Sonics have always been expensive units to manufacture and it is unknown if this was purely down to cost or simply the faith they had in the adhesives at that time but production remained the same throughout the 1960’s.

The neck and bridge pickups of the Red Special have the internal voids filled with Araldite Epoxy, before being squeezed back together.

Modifications have also been made to the base-plate and fixing/adjustment tabs of the Red Special’s neck pickup, lowering the overall Inductance of the unit. This has a ‘fine tuning’ effect, to achieve a more focused tone from the neck pickup, relative to its placement on the guitar. The original black plastic inserts have at some time been replaced by extremely thin pieces of a textured black rubber material, visible through the holes in the top covers. Each pickup is shimmed for height and screwed down directly into the body wood.

In use, Tri-Sonics from this time period are renowned for their powerful, compressed tone when pushing an amplifier into saturation.

Because of their ‘full metal Jacket’ design, they can always be prone to a little natural high-gain feedback, but a skilled player can control and use this to great effect, producing lush harmonic overtones and seemingly endless sustain.

All Tri-Sonics by design, sense a wide string area, which favours midrange rather than over emphasising lows and highs. These units become extremely effective at volume when switched together in series, producing an extremely smooth ‘wall’ of compressed midrange.

 

Here’s a shot of the set that was built by Pete Malandrone for what we hope is a forthcoming video of part of the interview with Brian conducted by Simon Bradley for the ‘Brian May’s Red Special’ book. Watch this space for news on that as we get it – might be a little while, though.

Parts of the set are modern props but some are genuine, such as the original workbench upon which Brian and Harold May set to work on the Red Special, Harold’s original hammer and, hiding beneath the copies of the original plans for the Red Special, the pickup winder he built with which Brian made his own coils.

Also of serious interest are the radio sets also built by Harold and the original tin of Rustin’s clear coating used on the Red Special’s body.

By all means share this photo, but please credit The Red Special.com should you do so.

Don’t miss Simon’s six-part blog that goes behind the scenes of the book in much more detail

For part one click here
For part two click here
For part three click here
For part four click here
For part five click here
For part six click here

So, here’s a thing: taking the Red Special apart.

It was all my idea, I admit it. What was I thinking?

The trick with planning anything remotely creative is to raise it above the norm, or at least try to. To this end it was always my naïve intention to have the Red Special dismantled and its constituent parts photographed in minute detail for the book. Who, I reasoned, wouldn’t want to see the underside of the bridge Tri-Sonic, or the scratchplate, all naked and alone? Geeky? Certainly, but talk about unfettered access. This was exactly what I was trying to do with the entire book, give people the feeling of being in a room with the Red Special, sixpence in hand, AC30s humming, ready to rock. Or something.

I think Pete actually had to sit down when I first mentioned the idea. His job centres around making sure the Red Special is in tip-top condition and available whenever Brian needs it, not to oversee its dismemberment while I cackle in the corner like Salacious Crumb, snapping away on my phone. He mumbled something about having to, unsurprisingly, “…ask the boss…” but, as the guitar hadn’t been taken completely apart since it was restored by Greg Fryer back in 1998, he wasn’t in any way sure what the reaction would be. Read the book and you’ll soon see how much it means to Brian, for all sorts of reasons.

I broached the subject during a planning meeting with Brian in 2012 that also included Pete and a couple of others. I was showing them some of the initial design concepts for the book that I’d asked a friend of mine, Sarah Clark, to come up with in order to try and gauge Brian’s feelings on the artistic direction I wanted to take. No mucking about, I just asked him. “How would you feel about us taking the guitar apart? It’d make a perfect centrepiece…to the…whole…project…?”. I tailed off and glanced at Pete, whose expression gave little away, then back at Brian who was, for a second, staring into the middle distance. Er…

In that strange way of the human brain, at that moment I had a distinct vision of me glibly asking Leonardo Da Vinci if I could have a crack at the Mona Lisa with a bottle of turps. “The canvas is an integral part of the painting, Leo. You owe it to the potential readers of this book to let me cack-handedly ruin your greatest work.” You presumptive git, I thought to myself.

Still, I was perfectly aware that, if Brian weren’t up for the idea, he’d say no. However, he started making positive noises and slowly nodding his head. “Mmm…” He begins a lot of his sentences like that; thoughtfully. “Yes… it’d be interesting.” He said, in something of an understatement to the rest of us. I’ll always admire him for that: I’d have to stop and think before I let anyone take one of my guitars apart, and this was the Red Spesh.

It took a year to find a gap in his itinerary where he wouldn’t be needing the guitar for a while – we nailed down two days in September 2013 – and, after obtaining his permission one more time during a follow-up phone interview a few months later, we started planning for the moment.

It was never going to be me who’d be taking the Red Special apart; not a chance. Even after a career (career!) spent behind one type of guitar or another, I can barely restring one without a sharp piece of metal drawing blood, and I’ll peruse even the most straightforward of wiring diagrams with befuddled confusion. Show a dog a Norwegian dictionary: that’s the face I do.

No, that honour/tribulation would fall to two obscenely experienced men: Andrew Guyton, a luthier based in Suffolk who builds wonderful replicas of the Red Special that Brian uses himself; and electronics guru Nigel Knight, who has been integral to the design of the range of May-endorsed treble boosters, not to mention the Deacy Amp Replica. Better them than me, and they’d agree.

We gathered at Brian’s offices in Surrey, some of us really looking forward to what would surely be a unique experience, and others not so. A large and sturdy table was cleared, coffee brewed (fresh pots!), cameras suspended and tools unsheathed. I stood in the corner and looked on excitedly while those of a more confident ilk got on with the job. Although there was plenty of bravado on show, no one was taking what was happening lightly: none of us knew if the guitar would come apart easily, let alone go back together again, and if a piece got lost or broken… didn’t bear thinking about.

All the shots, plus much more detail of the procedure, are in the book, but seeing the guitar with its guts removed was a strange experience to say the least. Intellectually you know it’s only wood and metal, but it was those pickups that Brian used to get the sound for the solo from Bohemian Rhapsody, it’s that neck he put his hand around, it’s those frets he coaxed all those beautiful notes from…well, you get the idea.

The process took a certainly painstaking yet reasonably calm six hours to complete, and Nigel took the opportunity to undertake some maintenance, checking the pickups and wiring. The scariest part of the entire day was putting it back together as there was a concern that the neck pocket could have constricted just sufficiently to restrict the reseating of the neck. Wood can be like that, and it would only have taken a movement of a fraction of a millimetre within the neck pocket to have put a real crimp on everyone’s day. Even usually the unflappable Andy treated himself to a quiet sigh of relief as the most revered sliver of mahogany fireplace anywhere in the world slid back easily into where it should. Pete, for whom it hadn’t been the most relaxing day at work he’d ever had, was probably the most relieved of all: it’s doubtful that the charge of informing Brian of a mishap would have fallen to anyone else.

Although Pete plays better guitar than he’d let on, he’s no Brian May, yet the guitar still sounded like the Red Special and it was my turn to feel a wash of gratitude. We hadn’t damaged the guitar’s inherent sprit with our probings and unscrewings; she was still as vibrant as ever. You go girl.

Brian wasn’t actually present when we did all this, but his face when he saw the final shots, a mixture of astonishment, fascination and horror, will stay with me for a long time.

With the Red Special safely back in its case and locked away, we all ended up sitting around the table, winding down and congratulating each other on what had been a truly great day. I wound up with the Red Special and I was idly noodling on it, as I would with any other guitar. In fact, Pete and I were talking about a band rehearsal he had asked me to dep for, and we were working some songs out… on the Red Special.

Yeah, I know…