By Liam Shearer

Maybe it’s the way they are religiously styled, photographed and marketed, or maybe it’s the way their art seems to disseminate into entertainment of all sorts, but the majority of successful musicians have seemed to attain a level of iconography rivalled only by the true legends of silver screen.

In part this is due to the way they dress. From the collarless suits of the Beatles in early ‘63 to the legendary meat dresses of the 2010s, musicians have become synonymous with their exceedingly outlandish outfits. The other aspect is, of course, the specific instruments which are often tied to the expanse of an artist’s career. This is an element of music history I had not considered too much until I was lucky enough to visit the “PLAY IT LOUD: Instruments of Rock ‘n’ Roll” exhibit at the MET 5th Avenue this summer.

I found the exhibition appealed specifically to my own (arguably quite limited) taste in music, but also found it lacking coverage of a few instruments made iconic by the personal touches added by their owners. Here are a few pieces I found most important, along with a few I wish could have been granted a mention.

The Famous Hofner 500/1 “Violin Bass”:

This bass is, arguably, one of the most iconic of all time. Wielded most famously by Paul McCartney throughout the era of the Beatles, it has continued to flow through the arsenals of some of contemporary music’s most fervent Beatles fanatics. Notable among those are Kevin Parker of Tame Impala and Zach Dawes of Mini Mansions.

It was a strange feeling seeing this instrument hung with a hundred tourists gawking at it. I have a poster of it held by McCartney in my bedroom back home. The left-handed Union Jack variant was presented to Sir Paul by the Hofner company to mark the 2012 Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth celebration concert, but this is one of the only personal guitar variants in the collection.

The ‘Jingly/Jangly’ Rickenbacker 360/12:

The Rickenbacker 360/12 and it’s less-stringy younger brothers are one of the most iconic families of guitar. In the 60s the thing was almost an essential aspect of being a pop star - George Harrison and Pete Townshend (to name just the most famous two) used them to exhaustion. Future generations gravitated to the iconic and storied history of the guitar, with artists like Paul Weller and Johnny Marr taking both the sound and design of the guitar to new levels. I wish, perhaps, one of Paul Weller’s commission-painted Rickenbacker’s could have been granted a mention.

I was delighted to see this guitar in the collection, but in hindsight I realise they couldn’t have but this exhibition on without it. It truly is one of rock history’s most unique and iconic designs.

George Harrison’s 1961 Fender Stratocaster, known as “Rocky”

The exhibition had no shortage of Fender Stratocasters. But the Fender Stratocaster is one of the most basic-looking instruments I think I have ever seen. Discount beginners’ electric guitars have for decades been imitating the smooth design to the point where there is a “Fender”-ish instrument in most teenager’s bedrooms all over the world. If you look up the term “electric guitar” on Google Images, you will see primarily an outrageous count of blue and red electric Fender-style guitars.

George Harrison’s 1961 Strat, however, is one of the most unique guitars of all time, in large part due to the psychedelic paintjob he added in his garage in 1967. But it was an instrument that the exhibition failed to mention.

The instrument itself is, of course, the only one of its kind in existence. But it is so iconic, particularly as Beatles imagery continues to spread around the world, that I am truly surprised the exhibition had no mention of it. In Beatles history the guitar is legendary, having played on more famous Beatles hits than most people could name. It was truly a shame to reach the end of the exhibition with not even as much as a mention of this iconic instrument.

All in all, these are small nit-picks. The exhibition, after all, intended to hit a far wider audience than just me and my individual expectations. But I think a problem that proliferated the exhibition was a fundamental misunderstanding of an artist’s relationship with their instrument. Just like they do sonically, an artist takes an (often factory built) piece of equipment and physically makes it their own. I think that fact could have been represented better through the exhibition. After all, isn’t that part of what makes music so iconic in the first place?

All other images courtesy of the author.