THE STORY

Two Guitars Walk Into a Boneyard

Everybody knows an SG.

Everybody knows a Flying V.

You don't need to see the logo or even the whole guitar. The shapes themselves have become part of the language of the electric guitar.

Which means they're also fair game.

MiniSGV started with pieces that suggested both of those familiar designs, but there wasn't much reason to choose between them.

So I didn't.

Half SG. Half Flying V. Neither, Really.

The fun begins when you take shapes everybody recognizes and change their relationship to one another.

A little SG here. A little Flying V there.

Shrink the whole idea down, rearrange the proportions and suddenly the familiar becomes something else.

That's MiniSGV.

It isn't trying to fool anyone into thinking it's an SG or a Flying V. In fact, the whole point is that you can still see both of them.

It's a visual mash-up—a little guitar built out of two much bigger ideas.

One Guitar Became Two

There is another Boneyard relationship hiding inside MiniSGV.

Its history overlaps with Unum.

Both trace back to the same earlier Rubÿtone from 2016. Eventually there wasn't any reason those parts had to remain one guitar.

So they didn't.

The neck went on to become Unum.

The body pieces had another future.

They became MiniSGV.

That's one of the things I like about the Boneyard. Taking a guitar apart doesn't necessarily mean I've destroyed one guitar.

Sometimes I've discovered that there are two guitars hiding inside it.

The Boneyard Has No Brand Loyalty.

That's one of the freedoms of building with found objects and leftover guitar parts.

Once a guitar has reached the Boneyard, the original rules don't necessarily come with it.

A part from one instrument doesn't have to spend the rest of its life surrounded by parts from the same manufacturer, the same model, the same decade—or even the same kind of object.

It just has to work.

And preferably make the next thing more interesting.

MiniSGV takes two of the most recognizable solid-body silhouettes in electric-guitar history and treats them as raw material rather than something sacred.

Some people might call that disrespectful.

I call it parts compatibility.

Smaller Guitar. Same Problem.

Of course, making everything smaller doesn't make the engineering smaller.

The neck still has to meet the bridge at the right place. The strings still have to clear everything. The structure still has to carry the tension, and the controls still have to end up somewhere a human hand can reach them.

The guitar doesn't care that the idea is funny.

It still expects to be built correctly.

That's the part of MiniSGV I like most.

From across the room, you might recognize an SG.

Then you see the V.

Then you realize neither explanation quite works.

That's when it becomes a Rubÿtone.

Interested?

There isn't a set price on MiniSGV.

It's one of those guitars where I'd rather hear from someone who really wants it than decide in advance what number belongs next to it.

So if MiniSGV looks like something that belongs in your hands—or your collection—make me a serious offer.

I'm willing to listen.