At first sight, perhaps in a photo of Django, it seems merely an artifact from an age when style equaled substance. Like the impossible coolness of the air scoop of a P-51 fighter or the suavité of a Homburg chapeau, the svelte Selmer Maccaferri guitar evokes the jazz age. It's hard to imagine that the extravagant D-hole, the trim cutaway and enormous bridge are anything but pleasing Art Deco design. One covets its curves  immediately.

When Mario Maccaferri put into practice his notions of classical guitar design in the early '30s, he couldn't have known that the "jazz" version of his instrument and its later refinement would become essential to a whole musical movement. And it quickly becomes clear to the newcomer to gypsy jazz that all those elegant bells and whistles that make a Selmer Maccaferri beautiful also herald a sound that is like nothing else.

It's ironic, perhaps, that Maccaferri didn't intend to create a gypsy jazz guitar. It's also worth noting that his initial design was but the springboard for the later (and more common) "petite bouche" Selmer style. The resonating chamber of the first instruments he created for Henri Selmer's company, a wooden box inside the main guitar body, proved less than enticing to most players. It changed the quality of the tone, but not so much that most guitarists thought it worth the trouble. The later oval-hole Selmer design (devised after Maccaferri left the company) lost the resonator and its accompanying D-hole, and the scale length was increased. It was this later style that Django played until his untimely death.
If, after you first spy a Selmer, you follow up the urge to own such a thing of beauty, the first time you play one, you discover much.

First, there is the obvious volume; a standard-issue acoustic guitar doesn't stand a chance in the room-filling presence of a Sel-Mac. And a petite bouche Selmer-style sounds nasal, constricted. Yet there is, in Django's playing, a stinging presence, then a lyrical sweep of notes that is anything but constricted, a sonic range that isn't easily coaxed from this unusual guitar. Notice that discrepancy, and you've taken the first mental step toward a quest for the combination of technique and well-crafted instrument that might put you in league with the Manouche swing great.

We're here in legion these days, strummers from Seattle to Samois, Tokyo to God knows where, finding frustration and satisfaction in the possibilities of two hands, a fat pick and a Selmer-style guitar. Of course, you can play other styles with these swank instruments, but to own one is to leave the door open to the gypsy jazz muse. You can count on her to slip in, to entice you with a well-bent note here and there, a strum in the sweet spot that unleashes a so-good-you-can't-stand-it tone. You'll need more and more, and the first one is always free.
Gypsies have long known what to do with an acoustic guitar. Their right-hand technique brings a Selmer-style to life with stunning volume and precisely articulated notes. To emulate their playing, the left hand must become capable of stunning speed and complex chord voicings. To hear the call of this muse is, for a mere gadjo, to embark on a re-learning of guitar. None of it sounds quite right without gypsy technique and a Selmer-style. Hendrix wouldn't sound like Hendrix without his beefed-up Stratocaster, but his style was quite portable. Django clearly could play other kinds of guitars with great facility. But because of his ability to release such singularly sweet sounds from his Selmer, perhaps more than any other musical style, gypsy jazz is utterly dependent on and identified with two versions of a single model of guitar -- a model that served, through happy accident and a bit of refinement, as a perfect vehicle for the gypsy jazz sound.
Since only 1000 or so pricey "modele jazz" guitars were produced by the Selmer company before its 1952 demise, makers of Selmer-style guitars were and are abundant. While some have been around a while, like Favino and Patenotte, new makers show up with some regularity. Few of us will ever get to play a real Selmer, but it's easier and easier to get your hands on a similar guitar.

As a neophyte gypsy jazzer (is there any other kind?), I've gotten my fingers on the frets of many a different Selmer-style by now, from the mass-produced Gitanes to Dell' Artes and a slew of custom luthier jobs. The taste for that toothsome, punchy mid-range, that taut E string snap, leads one ever onward for even better versions of gypsy jazz tone and playability.

At the Djangofest Northeast 2004, in the middle of some giant jam or other, I swapped guitars with another player. Eager to try everything I could, I dug right in. The guitar sang. It was light, easy and pleasant to fret, and possessed a remarkable depth of tone and crisp, snappy attack. It didn't sag when played lightly, and it came alive at greater volume. It was a joy to play. I knew I had finally found the exactly right Selmer-style for me, so I eagerly asked its bearer what on earth it was. It was a Michael Collins guitar, and I soon discovered that I was chatting with Michael Collins himself.

Now that gypsy jazz has become an international phenomenon, it probably shouldn't come as a surprise that one of its finest luthiers is an incredibly affable Texan. Collins studied luthiery in the American Southwest, and now lives in Canada, where he makes guitars in the style of an Italian who worked for a French company. It won't be surprising if you continue to hear Michael Collins' name mentioned in the same breath as the finest contemporary makers of Selmer-style instruments. At that Djangofest, Michael's guitars featured prominently. The Ritary Ensemble played them onstage and were so impressed that they invited him to become their official luthier. They won't be the last to do so. It is most generous of Michael to lay out in book form the nuts and bolts of his alchemical art, though it will likely further prove that making a fine guitar is a matter of skill beyond what most of us possess. Clearly, Collins is motivated by the community spirit so common among gypsy jazzers.

If you're lucky enough to play or own a Collins Selmer-style, don't expect to escape the siren call of the gypsy muse. But rest assured that your quest to unlock the secrets of the style will be a lot more fun with one of these spectacular babies under your fingers.

James Heflin