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Roger Bucknall spent his formative years in Birmingham, heartland of British engineering excellence and the centre of the Industrial Revolution. Birmingham is also close to Stratford-upon-Avon home of William Shakespeare, and his works have left a lifelong impression.
Guitar making for Roger started in his fathers garage at the age of nine. It continued through technical school and on through a degree in engineering at University in Nottingham.
Rogers first job was designing industrial tape recorders close to the New Forest of Southern England. The forest was Henry VIIIs hunting ground and source of timber for the many great ships of the Tudor age. Henrys daughter Elizabeth was to become the sponsor for much of Shakespeares writing during the Golden Age of Literature.
This experience stood Roger in good stead, with analysis of sound and recording techniques being particularly valuable. In his spare time, he studied musical acoustics at Southampton University, and began to develop his idea in guitar design, based on sound engineering principles that were to lead the way in guitar construction.
All this time, Roger was continuing to play guitar, fiddle and mandolin at local clubs, where he began to meet the guitar playing greats on the 1970s. The guitars he was making as a hobby became the instruments of choice for many of the leading British players who found them ideally suited to the altered tunings and complex styles beginning to evolve at that time.
Soon, Roger found himself working late into the night mending old guitars and making new ones for the professional musicians who have remained the backbone of Fyldes business ever since.
It soon became clear that there was enough demand to begin full time manufacturing and Roger moved to the Fylde coast of Lancashire to set up business.
Rogers early interest in Shakespeare re-emerged when he started looking for names for his instruments. The work of the Bard is peppered with references to music and strings and the correlation between Shakespearean characters and the character of sound in musical instruments provided the obvious answer.
The early guitars can be identified by a blue label - in the normal place - below the sound hole - bearing the words Fylde Instruments Ltd, St Annes on Sea, Lancs.
Roger is a little uncertain about the serial numbers, as his records are incomplete - but he believes the blue label could have covered up to 300 guitars made from 1973 to around 1975.
The blue label was followed by an orange one - this time, bearing the words Fylde Instruments Ltd, Kirkham, Lancs which came about shortly after the business moved in 1974. A yellow parchment-type label was introduced in 1978.
The year 2000 was celebrated with a new label - this time in dark orange.
The Fylde workshops are located in Penrith once home to William Wordsworth and Rogers home is near the poets favourite lake. The Lake District is, of course, not only a source of inspiration for poets, writers and painters, it is also scene of bloody battles between Scots and English; it is close to that northern outpost of the Roman Empire Hadrians Wall. Many local people claim ancestry among the feared Border Reivers whose family feuding, theft and murder tore apart the Borderlands for more than three centuries.
"Making guitars and other acoustic instruments is one of those businesses which rely heavily on enthusiasm, dedication and experience," says Roger. "Quite simply, it is one of those things that you get better at the longer you do it and I have no plans to stop".
Hi...Welcome, and thanks for dropping by our site for a visit. Thank you too for the add, and for the friendship.
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Thank you
Is it real life or is it a dream ? Have a peaceful and sunny day and thanks very much for your friendship.Your page is very inspiring and I would be glad if you visit me and leave me a comment Hugs Mindmovie
Hello Fylde Guitars, In your absence I am forced into finding other forms of amusement while thinking about you. Cities crumble, skies ignite spontaneously in your presence. Wood nymphs sprinkle your path with rose petals while you dance and prowl in the sequined moonlight with leftover cupcake sprinkles. You breath as delicately as vapors flowing towards an attractive flame. Please let me hear more of that wonderful sound. Your beauty is multiplexed in contemplation of your multidimensional effervescence. The skin I shed is a perfume that makes water bubbles so terribly clear to me. The expanse of your beauty is a void no universe could ever fill. The stickers hugging the fruit smell better than the perfume of ambergris. I relentlessly desire cotton candy lollipops. Entranced by the sweet harmony of your lips, I gaze beyond reason to find the oasis of your brilliant soul. Your eyes are like spheres of crystal water filled with shimmering dreams. How beautiful is the snowshine in your eyes, so directly current from the static in your mind.
