Guitar Stories

February 29 2020

Everybody, Say Hello To Piet

Quite a few years ago now, I was having dinner with my wife and father-in-law when suddenly he started talking about names.

He noted that I was the fourth Nikolaus Huber in my family line, and my eldest son, Niko, the fifth, and that my name was the name of a company as well. And attached to all the guitars that came from that company was my name again.

“In those ways, your name can live on,” he said. “But I have no sons. I have three daughters, and all of them have married and taken the names of their husbands. My name – Rietbergen – dies with me.”

He didn’t sound particularly sad when he said it, but it really struck me. What also struck me, and not for the first time, was the grandness of that name – Rietbergen. There was a certain fine sound on top of the special, personal resonance it held for me. I felt that it should be attached to something with a touch of elegance – an archtop came to mind at first. And so, years later, we released our semi-hollow, carved top model, the Rietbergen.

Fast forward to 2020. Those of you who came by at the NAMM Show this year saw that we have some big news: we are very proud to present a new addition to the lineup of Nik Huber guitars.

There are a number of things that make this new model extremely exciting for us. But those of you at NAMM may have noticed one strange thing in particular about our new guitar: it didn’t have a name.

The truth is, we had lots of names for it; we just didn’t have the right one. Clever names, cool names, fascinating names, dirty names, disgusting names – after hours of discussion and brainstorming, in the office and on the plane and in the car and at NAMM, we had it all covered. We had some great names. But we didn’t have the name.

Until suddenly, from what should have been the most obvious place in the world, it came to us. As soon as it was in front of me, the discussion was over. I had tears in my eyes I was so touched, and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought of it straightaway. It’s the most obvious thing in the world to me now – the only possible name for this guitar.

And so, please say hello to the youngest model in our line, named for my youngest son: Piet.

Me and Piet with Piet and Piet

This model has been an exciting new adventure for me. We’re more known for the mahogany-body vein of guitar making, and so creating something totally in the alder-body-maple-neck mould meant exploring some new ground for me as a luthier. In fact, that drove the creation of this new model more than anything. There was no business strategy or deep calculation behind it; I wanted to push myself as a guitar builder and explore something new.

‘That’s hardly new!’ you might say. And while it is just about the most conservative choice of woods you can get, this guitar is really all our own. We’ve made sure it’s perfectly suited to any pickup combination you can imagine – not just two or three single coils with minor variations. We actually started with the pickups, working closely with Harry Häussel to develop something really special. We’ve kept our Dolphin body shape, a familiar, signature element that brings a whole new sound to these woods. We’ve perfected the finishing to create a beautiful look and silky-smooth feel on the body.

I could go on. We’ve spent the last year experimenting with and tweaking every single detail on this model. With builders in the world already making phenomenal S-type, T-type and offset guitars, the last thing I wanted to do was make another (even if I do love those guitars). They have it covered. But with many of these guitars from the builders I admire, the things that make them beautiful and unique are in the details and the multitude of individual choices those builders take. I wanted that to be the case with this new model, which made it even more rewarding to see so many people checking out the Piet at NAMM and saying that it had our unmistakable signature, our DNA and feel.

And that was all the more reason to give it a name unique and meaningful to us.

Piet the human was thrilled when I told him about our decision, and now it’s something we share. The company and guitars share my name. My eldest son also shares my name and we share music, playing in a band together. The Rietbergen name, important to me because of my wife and father-in-law, is preserved and connected to a guitar we love. Now that’s true of Piet as well.

Both the Rietbergen and the Piet models are named out of a feeling, now stronger than ever, that all of this has to come back to family. When I was younger and working as a musician, I’d be away at gigs and not come back until late, or sometimes not come back until the next day. That’s time I wasn’t there when I should have been. When I transitioned to building guitars, I probably had even less time to spend with my family – as anyone who tries to build guitars for a living will tell you, it sucks up just about every spare minute you have. My family showed an incredible amount of support and patience for me and my crazy dream, without which none of this would have been possible.

Simply put, without my family I wouldn’t be here, building guitars and doing what I love. I would be somewhere else, somewhere much worse, with no Nik Huber Guitars, no Niko and Piet and no Rietbergens, and it would be my name lost and forgotten as well.

Just as important in all of this is my ‘second family’, the incredible team working with me to build these guitars. Every day I consider how lucky I am to work alongside them; their passion inspires me to achieve more, and their skill and dedication has brought the guitars to the standard they are today. This simply wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for them. Not even close.

We hope that when you pick up a Piet or a Rietbergen or any of our guitars, you feel that sense of connection and something special that we put into every instrument we build.

Or maybe you just think it’s a great guitar. That’s good too.

– Nik

January 12 2020

Why Dolphins?

The headstock of one of our Dolphin models. But why dolphins?

It’s a good question. Especially as our workshop is over 400km from the sea. But my connection to dolphins has grown right alongside my career as a guitar builder, and I think they’re an even more fitting symbol now than when I first had the idea over 25 years ago.

The dolphin obsession began around 1991 and lasted until…well, we’re still in it. It didn’t come from me originally but from my wife, Ingrid. When we were dating she was crazy about them, and this soon spread to myself. In fact, it was so contagious that it took over our lives in a way. Walking into our apartment was like entering a kind of dolphin shrine. Everything had dolphins on it; from bottle openers to wall art, it was hard to turn your head without seeing them.

In ’92 we’d flown to the Florida Quays and visited a dolphin research centre. Swimming with them is an incredible experience, but watching them interact with people was perhaps more inspiring. They showed an understanding of humans and behaviour that Ingrid and I found fascinating, staying away from those who were disinterested or bad-tempered, and responding differently to adults and children. There was one in particular that kept swimming past and staring at me as I stood by the water, like it was sizing me up, wondering what I was about. The sense of intelligence and connection was clear.

So, when it came to deciding on some kind of symbol for my guitars, in the midst of this obsession, it just felt natural that it be a dolphin.

Funnily enough, the first dolphin inlay was not on a Dolphin model, but on a semi-hollow, Tele-style guitar. It was…not my best work. Let’s put it that way. But I developed the idea from there, and in doing so took more and more inspiration from nature. The ocean-like, blue, quilted maple top with the dolphin inlays came together from this, and it was a bit like a flagship model for a time.

The guitars and this love of nature continued informing each other, and today they’re more strongly connected than ever. We’ve taken every opportunity to observe dolphins, even seeing them swim next to our sons as they surfed. Each year at NAMM, we head down to Huntington Beach and watch them. Through the guitars, we’ve now become connected with people in the world of marine biology.

This same fascination led to the creation of the Orca and, most recently, our Blue Whale series. Limited to a run of 25, the series celebrates this beautiful, endangered animal, with all profits going to the conservation efforts of researcher Richard Seers’ Mingan Island Cetacean Study. The setup for the project involved travelling to the Azores to observe blue whales, which was something else entirely; nothing quite prepares you for experiencing such animals up-close and in the wild.

Now I’m looking ahead to what our next series might be, and how it could also give something back. One of the coolest orders for custom inlays that we ever received was for great white sharks, with a pod of seals at the first fret. The great white is another incredible creature that’s also vulnerable – and one that’s severely misunderstood. That could be a very worthwhile thing to showcase. Plus, it makes for a badass inlay.

So my answer to ‘Why dolphins?’ has changed a little since the beginning. Or at least got longer. At first, I put something out there because it was significant to me – and I also thought it looked good. But putting the dolphins on a guitar intertwined the passion for building with a love for nature so that, now, the guitars promote and support the conservation of the animals, just as the animals inspire the guitars. I guess these days, I’d say that the dolphins are a symbol of this little personal story, and a sign of everything we’re wanting to achieve with our guitars.

But maybe most importantly, they’re something that people and players notice, comment on, request and enjoy. It doesn’t really matter why. Maybe someone has a similar level of fascination with animals; maybe they just like dolphins; maybe they just like the way the inlay looks. Whatever the reason, the fact that it can be significant for a bunch of other people too – well, that’s pretty damn cool.

– Nik

November 3 2019

Emerging From The Man Cave

Formentera Guitars, where it all began over 25 years ago.

My father came back from a guitar building course in Formentera, Spain and I caught the bug. I knew pretty quickly that there was no going back, and so in September 1993, for the first time, I held in my hands my very own guitar.

But what next? I thought I could do better, but like many beginners I needed to find out how. In the days before the internet and all the other resources we have now, where could I learn how to build a better guitar? Simple. I needed a mentor, and if I wanted my guitars to be the best they could possibly be, I would need the best mentor in the world.

So one day in 1994, at the Frankfurt Messe, I came up with a plan. I found out about a gig, grabbed some tapes out of my car, and used them to blag my way past the backstage crew. With the tapes in one hand and my guitar in the other, I bumbled my way through the throng and face-to-face with Paul Reed Smith.

Paul couldn’t have been more generous. Not in the sense of kind words. No, not that sort of generous. More in the sense that he was generous enough to tell me every last little thing I’d done wrong. He’s a good guy like that. But when you’re first emerging into the world, trying to find your way at doing something you love, nothing can be more valuable than honest advice from a true master.

So I went straight back to my bench and got to work, and that night was the first of many spent working on guitars well into the early hours of the morning. It was the beginning of something incredibly exciting, a period of meeting amazing craftspeople and great musicians, of becoming a guitar builder and making friends for life.

I’ve not stopped since, and in 2019 Nik Huber Guitars is a family of people striving to turn beautiful wood into excellent guitars. And every day that’s exactly what we do. And we love it.

It’s been a long time since those first steps. A long time spent at the workbench, hours on end with my tools in hand, evenings and nights with friends and family missed, opportunities passed by – but milestones met. It has, of course, been more than worth it, both for the joy that it’s brought me and the guitars that I’ve built. But I can’t help looking back now on those crazy early days, that time of first entering the guitar world, and feeling that maybe something is missing. That maybe it’s time for this workshop recluse to dust off those social skills and dive, once again, into the community that started this weird, magical journey.

I’ve been reliably informed by people much younger and cooler than myself that online is the place to be. Personally, I absolutely love the opportunities we now have to stay in touch with one another and share ideas as lovers of music all around the world. So whilst I might be one of the old guard now (oh, man) I won’t let that stop me being a part of this wonderful community of strange, passionate guitar weirdos.

And so I’ve started this blog. I have a lot more planned – stay tuned – but for starters, here’s a space where once a month I can gather up and share some thoughts about the things that we all love. You never know, those thoughts might even be of some use to you. Hopefully. Maybe. Or we’ll at least have a good laugh or two along the way.

So, see you next month!

– Nik