Above: Jeff McCoy in his musician-friendly shop.
Jeff McCoy's been easing into opening Rosendale Guitars for a while now – he served his first customers in the shop at 378 Main Street in January, and got around to a grand opening on Cinco de Mayo. Even before that he was being discovered by a growing stream of musicians flowing into the shop, with its good smells of woodworking in progress, its wide, comfy front stoop and wide variety of guitars to fool around with.
The shop has been described in Ulster Publishing's Almanac as a “well-curated” experience. To find out more, you can 845-430-3950 or connect via the shop's facebook page.
WP: How is it that you became a guitar man?
I've been pulling guitars apart since I was twelve. Putting them back together turned out to be harder. This was on the Lower East Side when it was fashionable mainly for heroin and bialis, neither of which held my interest, so I found myself doing a lot of it and decided to take it seriously. I knew a guy named Richie Baxt , an absolute f-in' genius, and I asked him if I could apprentice.
He told me no, he only hired pretty women, but I kept calling and giving him headaches until he finally said, okay, okay, as long as you'll work for nothing and get the coffee. After two years he decided I was getting good and I was on salary for the next five. I learned a lot from him.
I started doing repairs out of my apartment, too, and then when my wife and I moved up here, I worked out of our basement for six years. But it became really hectic, with all kinds of folks coming around at all hours. “Can I get an appointment?” “It's eleven o'clock, dude.”
I looked around the basement and there were thirty guitars and thirty amps, so I decided to try retail. I'm not so much a retail kind of guy- I prefer the grunt work on the bench. I've loved that since I was a little kid- these hunks of wood with strings. And networking with musicians.
I finally got the nerve to fully follow my passion, decided it was now or never, and here I am – and I wouldn't have it any other way, Every time I turn the key in the door it's a thrill. Cooking didn't do that for me.
Guitar repair does. It's the repair work that drives the business, and that I most love. Guitars are extensions of the people that play them, very personal, and it's a privilege to work on somebody's instrument.
WP: How do you express that sense of privilege?
I like having my bench right out here in the public eye. The big places, your guitar disappears behind a curtain and you won't see it for three weeks. Depending on what's needed, I can usually turn it around in 24-48 hours, and if you're not happy I'll take it back and redo it, gratis, until you are happy.
I keep this a b******t-free zone. At the end of the day, these are tools, like a carpenter's hammer or a painter's brush, not 401K plans. Somebody who buys a particular guitar for the prestige value, that's the instrument that lies under the bed unloved – and that's a shame, because they sound better the more you play them. The wood loosens up under the lacquer.
There's a story about Steve Earle being in a pawn shop fooling with an old Martin, and all of a sudden he started writing songs. He said the songs were in the guitar. A lot of people believe that happens. And if a $50 guitar sounds great, it's a great instrument; if it's two grand and has no songs, it's junk.
WP: So you're having fun here?
I'm really happy with the response I've gotten – I've been seeing a cross section, from beginners to consummate pros, and I will sit here and talk guitars with anybody who wants to all day long. The feedback is good – it seems as if I fill some kind of void they claim existed. I don't pull an attitude or turn people away, and I don't require six forms of ID before you touch a guitar. I remember being treated like a total nobody as a kid on 48th street – I don't do it that way. Anybody can walk here and play anything I've got.
