I pretty much always have at least one small body guitar. This is an English Fylde like the one I used to write 'I AN AN ANIMAL'. They are little gem.
Pete played his Fylde Ariel guitar at a few Attic Jam and Barnes and Noble shows that he did with Rachel Fuller back in 2006.
“I’ve had all of the great guitarists in the world say to me, ‘Pete, you’re not in the top 10 for virtuosity, but you’re certainly No. 1 as an acoustic rhythm player. Fylde Gyutar is one of my favs.
One of the things I loved about it was the lightness of weight, the smallness of the body, so it felt to me like a guitar that I could travel with. I carry it with me pretty much all the time. This Fylde, the Ariel, I like to have with me in every studio situation that I operate in.
Although i'm not a guitar collector, i have some favorite pieces in the collection. A Dobro lap steel I bought at my local music shop. It must be about 1928. It looks like a frying pan. I’ve got a perfect Bacon and Day tenor banjo with a built-in mute I bought in New York a few years ago. There’s a 1956 Epiphone Emperor that sounds like John Lee Hooker has traded souls with Carl Perkins and come back from the dead. I’ve got an Esquire string bender by Parsons-White, the real deal. I’ve still got the orange Chet Atkins Joe Walsh gave me back in the early ‘70s. My favorite guitar of all happens to be English. It’s one of the first small-body Ariels by Fylde. I have three now, all superb, set up in different tunings.
Brian May: “Pete Townshend’s a god of guitar and always will be! I’d seen him stand there and let the guitar explode into life on its own.”
In the caption, May reiterated his admiration for Townshend. “I’m glad I said this – I probably don’t say it enough,” he said. “I can’t imagine Rock Guitar without Pete Townshend. Looking back, it seems to me he basically invented it!”
Some times I wish I hadn’t smashed some guitars expecially one. It was 1968.
We were around Detroit about to play at the Grande Ballroom. I had no guitar. I went to the local pawnshops and bought two Strats. One was recent, the other was much older, probably from the first year of manufacture.
They were not expensive. The dealer had no idea what he had. On stage, I started with the older of the two guitars. It was almost certainly a guitar that belonged to Buddy Holly. I sounded like Buddy Holly.
I felt like Buddy Holly. The sound was superb, off the map, bell-like, silky, just sublime. When the time came to smash the guitar, I switched it for the newer one, and a boy at the front of the stage protested.
“No,” he shouted. “Smash the good one, not some fake.” So I switched back, and to my shame smashed the guitar over his hands. I still wait for him to sue me.
He would have a perfect right, but I was pretty angry with him. However, this entire guitar-smashing thing is my fault, my thing, my idea, my artistic statement, my absurdity. I have no doubt that guitar is sitting in someone’s home now, and probably plays okay. I hope the same can be said for that poor guy’s hands. So my regret and shame on this occasion is doubled.
