“If I had written the plot of my life, I wouldn’t have dared to make it as fabulous as it has been,” says MESA/Boogie founder Randy Smith. “It has been an incredible ride, and I owe it all to the legions of players throughout the world, as well as the dealers and distributors, and, most of all, the people right here in the company itself.”

The music business may have a vast bookcase chock full of stories where dreams came true—as well as an entire library devoted to dashed hopes—but few tales are as magical as that of Randy Smith and MESA/Boogie. There were incredibly daunting struggles, to be sure, but sustaining the company throughout its 55-year history are some compelling pillars: tone, innovation, commitment to excellence, customer service, integrity and a strong identity of family amongst its team.

It also didn’t hurt that some significant business smarts, a couple of dollops of luck and the incredible discovery of a symbiotic creative partner were involved.

Two years after San Francisco’s cultural Summer of Love in 1967, the Bay Area was still blossoming hippie hopes. Everyone seemed to be in a band loudly exhorting peace, love and the quest for utopia. Of course, musicians needed gear to get the message out, and they also had to have a place to get that gear repaired when it broke down.

The MESA/Boogie journey began with a crazy-ass idea from Smith’s bandmate, Dave Kessner: “Let’s open a music store.”

“It was totally spontaneous,” remembers Smith. “There was no roadmap. There was no crystal ball. There was no corporate direction. I had no expectations when I started all of this—no idea what it would become. I was just a starving cat working in the back of a music store.”

However, Smith had some groundbreaking ideas about guitar amplification and tone, and his company soon enjoyed seismic growth, and tons of customer loyalty and goodwill because of them. From his “sneaky” Princeton mods in the late ’60s onward, Smith and the MESA/Boogie team have never stopped innovating. Everyone knows about the mega hits—the Mark I, Mark IIC+ and Rectifier series that helped define certain musical styles—but the “chart-toppers” kept on coming. Today’s players can experience the MESA/Boogie “Home of Tone” with gear such as California Tweed, Fillmore, Badlander, Mark VII and JP-2C guitar amps; Subway bass amps; various overdrive, preamp and boost pedals; and CabClone speaker-simulation processors. Acquired by Gibson in 2021, the MESA/Boogie team was instrumental in building the revitalized and gleefully retro Gibson Falcon amplifiers.

We’re thrilled for this exceptional opportunity to offer the Boogie story as told by some of the people who helped make the company’s history—Smith himself, Gibson Tone Lab Director (and indispensable co-visionary since 1981) Doug West, Master Artisan Jim Aschow, Sr. R&D Specialist John Marshall and Product Manager Tommy Waugh.

Pictured: MESA/Boogie Factory Sign in Petaluma, California

1968: From Chinese Grocery to Bay Area Music Hangout

A streetwise punk named Dave Kessner convinces Randy Smith their future is in repairing music gear for the San Francisco scene’s rock royalty and emerging artists. The meat locker of a former Chinese grocery in Berkeley, California, is transformed into Prune Music. The “build it and they will come” plan actually works, as the store’s customers include the Grateful Dead, Steve Miller, Jefferson Airplane, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Big Brother and the Holding Company, and others.

Randy Smith: Prune Music in Berkeley was created because I could fix amplifiers. In the middle ’60s, I was going to University of California, Berkeley, and playing in a band. One night, the keyboard player’s Sunn 200S amp blew up—smoke, flames, everything. I was able to fix it, because I’d fooled around with ham radio stuff as a kid. My partner in the band, Dave Kessner, was very impressed, and he floored me by saying, “Man, let’s open a music store.” We had no idea about what it would be, but Dave wisely said, “Everybody in the Bay Area is playing in bands, and there’s nobody who can fix this stuff.” So, we rented this little storefront in Berkeley for $75 a month, and in no time, lots of Bay Area bands—Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Country Joe and the Fish, and others you’ve probably never heard of—were bringing me their gear to fix.

1969: Finding Peace in Mill Valley

The University of California, Berkeley becomes a hotbed of student activism, igniting demonstrations for civil rights and the Free Speech Movement, in addition to protests against the Vietnam war. The cultural upheaval is deemed critical for changing the world, but the tumult is not very good for a small music store trying to do business. Prune Music escapes the frequent rioting by packing up and moving to the serene, happy hippie environs of Mill Valley.

Smith: We moved the store from Berkeley to Mill Valley—which was a brilliant move, although we didn’t anticipate at the time how brilliant it was. Mill Valley had become the Mecca for musicians and rock and rollers, because so many of them lived across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco in Marin County. Prune Music was also known as the place that had all of this cool, vintage gear. Of course, it was known as “used gear” back then, but this was also when the CBS takeover of Fender had caused quality to go sideways, and we had all of the old and great stuff—’50s Strats for $200, a goldtop Les Paul for $300. Touring musicians all the way up to Eric Clapton would come to Prune Music. It was like a cultural center as much as a music store. The back room was fabulous and notorious. I have to give some credit for my career to all of the cool musicians who came by, because I listened to them talking about their gear. Funny story. One summer day, these kids came into the store, and I yelled at them, “Hey, eat your freakin’ ice cream cones outside before you handle the goldtops.” Well, those kids became Huey Lewis and the News [laughs].

In addition, my left-hand man, Doug West, claims he came into Prune Music when he was eight years old, and I sold him a guitar. I’m afraid I don’t remember that, but I do remember building him a Boogie amp when he was 11 or 12. Doug has been my tone buddy for more than 40 years, and he and I have been mostly responsible for all of the products that have come out of our shop.

Pictured: The Spirit of Art in Technology Book

Doug West: My mom took me into Prune—which had just opened up in its original location on Sunnyside Avenue in 1968. Randy was in there, and we bought a nylon-string guitar from him for around $25. Then, I got into steel-string guitar, and we went to the store’s second location on Locust Avenue, where I bought a Yamaha FG-180—a popular and affordable guitar at the time. Prune Music became part of my entire childhood, because it was on the way home from school. I stopped there pretty much every day, and Randy would see me around, but we didn’t really know each other. I started working there officially after high school. Before that, I was just the excited kid they told to tune up and polish the guitars if I was going to hang around. I became the store manager there around 1980.

Jim Aschow: I met Randy through my father, who used to sell musical instruments and parts to Prune Music. I would visit the store with my dad, but I don’t remember much about it. However, Randy reached out to my dad about cabinet making when Boogie moved to Petaluma. I had a background in making my own speaker cabinets and stuff, and I was looking for a job, so I started working here. I liked the story. They were making amplifiers and it was a music-oriented company.

Carlos Santana Names an Amp Company

With Prune Music now entrenched in a peaceful environment, more and more of the amplifier-design ideas in Smith’s head become real-world projects. The genesis of what was to become MESA/Boogie is triggered by a desire to blow a rock star’s mind, while another rock star comes up with the name that will launch a legend.

Smith: The big takeaway musicians were all talking about at that time was that distortion characteristics were part of blues and rock and roll, and the only way you could achieve classic distortion was turning up the amp too loud. That also meant the wattage of the amplifier might be too powerful, or not powerful enough, depending on the venue. For example, one of the things that killed our fledgling band was the guitar player had a Marshall stack, and it was way too loud for the small clubs we were playing. He’d say, “But I have to turn up to get my tone.” Well, he wasn’t Eric Clapton, we weren’t playing Winterland and he didn’t need a 100-watt Marshall stack. It was a liability.

So, the biggest breakthrough I came up with was separating the musically desirable expression of distortion from playing loudness. The basic idea for that came from my being interested in sports cars. I had this little, underpowered Austin Healey that I always wanted to drop in a lightweight V8 engine from General Motors. I thought that would be the ultimate sleeper.

Now, when the guys from Country Joe and the Fish came by the store and asked, “Is there anything you can surreptitiously do to [guitarist] Barry Melton’s Fender Princeton practice amp that will just blow his mind?” I thought, “Yes—that’s exactly what I’d like to do.” I approached it the same way as putting a hot-rod V8 into a little sports car. I kept the Princeton looking stock, but ripped out everything except the pots and knobs, and rebuilt it as a jacked-up, tweed 4x10 Fender Bassman. Barry still has that amp, by the way. In fact, he told me he still plays it. He brings it in every ten years or so to get new tubes put in it.

Pictured: MESA/Boogie ads feat. Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, Brad Gillis and Kirk Hammett

Everybody just loved that 4x10 Bassman circuit—including this fellow named Jim Marshall, because that circuit was the secret to Marshall amplifiers. But I knew the 10" speaker in the Princeton would last about 30 seconds with the more powerful Bassman circuit. The 12" JBL D120 speaker was the hot ticket at the time, and if I did everything carefully, I knew that speaker would fit into the Princeton chassis. I checked out the modified amp on my scope, and it looked like it would work, but I wondered what it would sound like. I walked out, and Carlos Santana was in the store. I said, “Hey, Carlos, plug into this amp.” He said, “Oh, man, that’s a Fender Princeton. I don’t want to plug into that.” I told him I had beefed it up a little, and he should try it. He plugs in and starts wailing, as only Carlos can do. He’s going off, the doors of the shop are open and a crowd is forming out on the sidewalk. When he finishes, he looks at the amp, looks at me and goes, “Man, that little thing really boogies.” That’s where the “Boogie” name came from.

Then, I started doing this thing where you could bring me your little Fender amp—particularly a Princeton—and get it “Boogie-ized.” But I overheard a couple of young guys in the store going, “Man, I don’t know how Carlos does it. My Princeton is barely adequate for the garage, and he’s headlining Winterland with his.” I realized my stealth thing was backfiring, because people didn’t realize the amp wasn’t a Princeton. It was disguised as a Princeton. So, I taught myself some basic silk-screening and put pieces of acrylic with the word “Boogie” on the modded Fender amps to get some credit for what were no longer Fender Princetons.

What the Heck is MESA Engineering?

For all of its notoriety, Prune Music isn’t exactly minting money. To scratch out a living, Smith comes up with a couple of side hustles. He figures one of these endeavors might need a more professional company name than something based on a hippie catchword.  

Smith: We were starving. The music store wasn’t providing much of an income, so I needed a couple of sideline gigs. One of them was jacking up old summer cabins in Lagunitas, pouring concrete foundations and setting them back down. Not only did this stabilize the building, an actual concrete foundation qualified the cabins for a mortgage, because banks won’t lend money to a structure built on dirt. This was also how I got my nickname, “The Mole,” because I was skinny enough to burrow under the cabins. In addition, I would rebuild old Mercedes-Benz engines. To get Mercedes parts wholesale, I felt I needed a more serious, corporate-sounding name than “Boogie.” So, I came up with MESA Engineering.

Building Boogies in a Dog Kennel

As Prune Music grows into “the place to be” for Bay Area musicians, Smith fears his design and build time is being usurped by social activities. He decides to hightail it to his home in Lagunitas to get more work done, but he needs a satellite shop. A somewhat ramshackle, former dog kennel on the property is converted into his new workspace.

Smith: The backroom at Prune Music was this social hangout where I learned basic stuff about what guitar players needed—which was more sustain. Carlos, for example, was the sustain king, but even he couldn’t get reliable sustain from my jacked-up Princetons. Sometimes it would sustain and sometimes it wouldn’t. The other thing was there was so much partying going on back there that it was hard for me to get much work done. I was learning from these guys, but there were constant interruptions. So, I started working in Lagunitas where we lived. I converted this old dog kennel into a shop, and bands brought their gear out there for me to work on. I did so many Princeton mods that there weren’t many Princetons left in the Bay Area that hadn’t been boosted by me. I bought a few new Princetons from Prune so I could strip them for the cabinet and basic chassis, and I realized, “This is insane. It doesn’t make sense. I learned how to make cabinets and chassis from building ham radio stuff as a kid.” That became the next step—building amps from scratch.

Pictured: Randy Smith's Former Workspace in Lagunitas, California

The Triumph of the Cascading Gain Stage

Now designing his own amps, a fateful call from multi-instrumentalist Lee Michaels sets Smith to modifying the Fender Bassman circuit further by adding three volume controls.   

Smith: I had built around eight snakeskin amplifiers for Lee Michaels—who was a megastar at the time, as well as a gear junkie. He played guitar, but was more known for playing Hammond B3 and singing. He wanted to try these Crown DC-300 amps, which were super technical, stereophile power amps. Lee had a couple of other companies try to develop preamps for these amps, but they were unsuccessful because they didn’t have tone—especially for guitar. So, I went back to the trusty Bassman preamp circuit, and thought, “I’ll add an extra tube in the succession of gain stages to make sure I have enough gain to power these Crown 300s. I also put a succession of three different volume controls at different points in the circuit thinking I could adjust them all, and maybe even eliminate one or two of them with fixed resistor values. I took the preamp over to Lee’s gorgeous, brown-shingle house in Mill Valley—a lowly repair guy in a star’s home—and it did not work. I was severely humbled until I realized Lee hadn’t plugged the preamp into the power amps. He routed the preamp directly to the speaker.

We plugged the preamp into the power amps—which were cranked up, by the way—hit a chord and our bodies just blew to the back of his studio. It was so overwhelmingly powerful. Then, we dialed in the controls, and it was like, “Wow, this is a breakthrough.” Set one way, the preamp produced the loudest, cleanest Fender Bassman sound, but you could jack it up to get moderate gain, as well as go further to get gain levels that had never been heard before. You know, amplifiers multiply—that’s what they do. Adding another stage had the capability of multiplying the signal strength by 50 to 80 times. What that means is when you hit a note and the string vibration decays, it can decay by 80 percent, and it will still drive the amp to full power. That’s where sustain is coming from.

Pictured: Guitar Cabinet Speakers in Preparation for Fabrication

After I heard that, it was like, “Ah, I don't want to deal with these Crown 300s. What I want to do is build a 100-watt, four 6L6, 1x12 combo amp for Carlos freakin' Santana.” Carlos had been looking for endless sustain, and that's basically what I did. The extra gain stage became the foundation of what was later called the Boogie Mark I. It had phenomenal sustain, but the important thing was it was separable from playing loudness. I can’t emphasize how important that was. Yes, people were putting master volumes on Fender amps, but Fenders were inherently clean. There wasn't enough gain, so you’d turn the master down, and it was hardly any different than simply turning down the volume. But with up to 80 times more gain and sensitivity, a master at the very end of the preamp could largely duplicate and far surpass any musical distortion you could get by turning up an amplifier too loud. This was an enormous and evolutionary breakthrough in amplification for guitars. It may be common now, but back then, it had a tremendous impact on music.

1972: The Mark I Blows Minds

Smith dials in the format and concept of the Boogie Mark I amplifier, and Carlos Santana helps spread the news of this miniature amp with monstrous tone and sustain across the globe.

Smith: I kept that same three-volume control pattern—even though I was no longer using Crowns. I was starting to make 1x12 amps, because I'd already come up with this concept of the high-power, compact amps—the wolf in sheep's clothing. One of the first ones was a snakeskin amp that Carlos took out for the Abraxas tour around 1970, and I was getting calls from all over the world. He went to Europe, Asia and even South Africa, and people were asking him things like, “How do you get that tone? How do you get that sustain? Is it all from this dinky, practice-sized amplifier?” Carlos really put me on the map by saying, “Well, it's my crazy friend Randy, who lives under the redwood trees in California. See if you can get ahold of him.”

That wasn't easy to do. With all of these orders coming in, we had to organize something more business-like while keeping the building process exactly the way it was. We decided that you could only phone us on Wednesdays, because we were building amps the rest of the week. We had to do that, because we were backordered four months to a year with prepaid orders. Everything was direct to the customer. You ordered your amplifier, put down a deposit and selected from a menu of options. It started out with a basic Super 60. You could add reverb, a graphic equalizer, make it 100-watts and change your speaker to JBL, Altec or a custom Eminence.

I also came up with a hardwood cabinet with a wicker-cane grille—partly because I didn't like the process of putting Tolex on cabinets. In fact, I laughed about what we called the “Tolex Aftertaste.” After you made six or seven cabinets, your tongue got glue residue all over it. It was miserable until I figured out the solvent that could get rid of the Tolex aftertaste was vodka. So, hardwood cabinets came out due to the Tolex aftertaste, and the wicker grille happened because I had been repairing some broken-down cane chairs. I thought the material would make for an attractive, organic-looking grille cloth.

At that point, it felt like a business, because we weren’t starving. We were actually seeing some income. I'll never forget the first time I went to the post office box, and there was a check. It was amazing.

1975: Santana Introduces the Rolling Stones to Boogie

During a Stones concert, Santana shows Keith Richards why he brought a “practice amp” to play Madison Square Garden. 

Smith: I would say Carlos Santana was our first global sales manager. Here’s a quick story related to that. Carlos was invited to jam with the Rolling Stones during their encore at Madison Square Garden in 1975. He walked on stage with his Boogie, and Keith Richards looks at him and says, “Rolling Stones. Madison Square Garden. And you bring a practice amp? What's the matter with you?” As they are tearing through “Sympathy for the Devil,” Keith gives Carlos the nod, and as Carlos told me, “I hit one big note, held it and it soared over the top of the whole band.” The next day, I get a call from Ian Stewart [Stones road manager and keyboard player] wanting to get the amp that Carlos had. I could hear Keith in the background, so I asked Ian if he’d put him on. Keith couldn't be nicer. He said, "Hey, mate, that amp is great. I love it.” When I told him he’d actually have to pay for one, he said, “We’re the Rolling Stones. We haven't paid for gear in decades.” I said I was just one starving cat, and if I could afford to give away an amp, wouldn't it be better to give it away to some broken down blues player? I also mentioned he could write off the cost of the amp on their tour expenses. Keith said, “Right, mate. That would be a good plan, but I want not one, but six. Here’s my manager, Jane Rose. Just tell her how much they are.” So, thanks to Carlos, that was the beginning of a beautiful relation, and over the decades, the Stones bought dozens of amps.

Pictured: Guitar Speaker Cabinet Fabrication at the MESA/Boogie Factory

1978: The Advent of the Mark II Series

Santana wants more. Smith visualizes a mode-switching feature so players could seamlessly jump back and forth from rhythm to lead sounds. The Mark II becomes the first amp ever to offer this feature.

Smith: I believe it was Carlos Santana who said, “I love the saturation and sustain, you know, but it would be nice if I could somehow switch back to a clean sound.” I thought, “Man, you guys are never satisfied, are you?” But it was a legitimate request that made all kinds of sense. I realized I had to come up with a dual-mode amp that had a preset for clean rhythm playing and a separate mode for over-the-top, high-gain leads.

I used the word “mode,” not “channel,” because most Fender amps in that era were called “two channel.” However, both channels were the same mode—clean. There was no high-gain mode. I had to make the distinction. We developed the two-mode amp—the first ever—got a patent, everybody copied it, we sued them and we won.

1980: Boogie Moves to Petaluma

Success is sweet, but it proves to be too much for the Lagunitas dog kennel. Smith looks for room to grow and finds it in a cow pasture.

Smith: All of the Mark I amps—just under 3,000—were built in Lagunitas. It was chaotic. We were at the end of this narrow lane, and we literally had tractor trailers coming up and getting stuck. It was obvious we had to make room to do the next thing—which was after we came up with the Mark II. We moved into this facility in Petaluma in 1980, and we’re still here. Back then, Petaluma was a real backwater, agricultural town about 40 miles from San Francisco. I bought a cow pasture from an old farmer named Elmer Scott, and I promptly freaked out. “Oh, no. I just want to stay in the [Lagunitas] house. This is getting way too close to adulthood.” But I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t go back. We constructed the building, and it actually took us decades to fill the whole thing. As we were growing, we actually rented out space to a gymnastics business and various companies that needed offices.

1981: Doug West Joins the Team

The tone-obsessed, guitar-playing kid who is always hanging around Prune Music starts to show he is much more than someone who digs looking at gear. What happens next has an enormous impact on Smith and the entire company.

West: I came up to MESA/Boogie in late ’81, because I was troubleshooting my stereo Boogie rig, which wasn't sounding clean enough for me. Actually, it was a few trips over some months, because I wasn’t sure what the issue was. Frank Goodman—who was the company’s only salesperson—dealt with me a lot when I was coming up, and he finally told Randy, “Hey, this kid from Mill Valley and Prune is crazy. He’s chasing down tone. We should hire him.” I'll never forget the day Frank called me at Prune Music and said Boogie wanted to offer me a job. I said, “Petaluma is way too far. I'm not driving up there every day.” But I thought about it more, and I even talked to my mom about it, because she knew the history. She said, “This sounds like a real opportunity, and Boogie has been a part of your life since you were ten years old. I think you should consider it.” So, I did, and I became the direct salesperson, as Frank moved on to managing the early dealer network that Randy was setting up.

Pictured: Doug West, Gibson Tone Lab Director

It was such an intense time for Boogie’s growth that, as soon as I got there, Frank took off to go to the US Festival [1982 in San Bernardino, California] and left me on my own to figure things out. I was taking service calls and running back to [Boogie’s first employee and design tech] Mike Bendinelli saying, “Hey, I need tubes for this guy.” There were no computers. There were these slips of paper with little boxes you’d check to ship out the right tubes to people. It was very different back then. Very simple, direct and personalized.

1983: MESA/Boogie Mark IIC+

Boogie’s own dynamic duo—who will go on to design and create some bona fide miracles, produce truckloads of innovations, and deliver the goods that will keep the company rolling for more than a half century—is now working together in their “cave of tone.” With critical assists from Bendinelli and the team, the Mark IIC+ quickly defines the sound of heavy rock. Only 3,000 of the model are ultimately made, and it becomes a much sought after—and rather costly—iconic amp in the used/vintage marketplace.

West: The first product I worked on with Randy on was the IIC+. I could feel something was happening between Randy and I—a relationship that was really powerful, and I respected it so highly, because he was a mentor, as well as a boss. When the IIC+ was done, players started grabbing it and using it on big records. That amp exploded quickly all through the Los Angeles session world and the fast-emerging metal scene. I was doing artist relations on top of everything else, and one of the things I loved about the 1980s, is that almost every band had a great guitar player. I’d load amps into my truck, go to shows and that amp seemed to impress everyone. It took off like you wouldn’t believe. Pretty soon, we had to get two more customer service people. It just blew up.

And then the rack revolution began. At Boogie, it actually started with me, because I had three Mark IICs and two mono M-180 power amps in a rack I called “The Refrigerator.” I asked Randy, “Can we shrink this down? It’s 500 pounds with the road case.” We started goofing around with rack ideas, and we soon had the Quad Preamp, Studio Preamp and an entire family of rackmount products that became a large part of our business.

Metallica Comes to MESA

Metallica’s James Hetfield and Kirk Hammett aren’t hearing the powerful, belligerent guitar sound they are seeking for the band’s music in any of the usual-suspect amplifiers. But the tone that will ignite the colossus that is 1986’s Master of Puppets—and influence the sound of heavy metal for years—is just a few miles away from them.

Smith:  Well, Metallica. When they first swerved into MESA/Boogie and the Mark IIC+, they were just an unknown band about 25 miles down the road in San Rafael. They couldn't get radio play. They couldn't get a record contract. Nobody wanted to deal with them. But they didn't care. They were so devoted to their craft and the musical style they were pursuing. At some point, they decided, “MESA/Boogie is right up the freeway. Let’s tour the factory and see what they have.” I recommended they try the Mark IIC+ amps based on the tone they were describing. They said, “We’re looking for the ultimate crunch.” Right then, I saw a 6L6 tube on the floor and I stepped on it. “How’s that for the ultimate crunch?” They understood immediately. “This is not corporate,” they said. “This is pretty cool.” They got the IIC+ amps and never looked back.

1992: MESA/Boogie Dual Rectifier

Smith and West sense that music is undergoing yet another evolution, and players are again looking for new sounds to drive emerging styles. The duo goes back to the iconic Fender Bassman circuit, reengineers it and creates a global phenomenon.

Smith: When Fender went from the old tweed amplifiers to what became the black-panel models that everybody still loves, those amps had a gorgeous clean sound, but even less gain than the tweed amps. This was because distortion was thought of as a negative. We didn’t see it that way. Instead, we viewed distortion as an essential, expressive element of blues and rock. The Rectifiers have all of the gain we’re talking about, but the circuits went back to that old 4x10 tweed Bassman.

In the Bassman circuit, the tone controls were located at the end of the preamp, whereas the black-panel amps placed the tone controls near the front. Fender did that to enable a better clean sound. But putting them at the end was one of the key issues that makes the Rectifier so powerful—the tone controls come after the distortion is created instead of before the distortion. The short story is that the Rectifier became a a colossal success far beyond our wildest expectations. I mean, rarely has one amplifier taken over for a particular style of playing like it for a great number of years.

West: I was in Los Angeles doing some dealer clinics near the end of the ’80s, and I stopped by Andy Brauer’s studio-rental business to hang out and see some rigs. He was supplying everyone’s racks for recording sessions, and I noticed Mark IIC amps were becoming more rare. There were more modified Marshalls and other things. I called Randy from my hotel room and said, “Hey, this sea change is really happening. We’re seeing less and less IICs out here. We might want to take a shot at trying some different sounds.” Of course, Randy is really fierce about not copying anybody. But we do listen to and reference other amplifiers, so I asked Andy if we could borrow or rent a bunch of the amps that people were using. I had an Alfa Romeo at the time, and I stuffed it so full of amps that I couldn’t close the top driving back up to the shop. We stacked up those amps and listened to them for weeks, picking out things we liked and things we thought we could improve. We’d always loved Eddie Van Halen’s sound, so we also wanted to have a bit of a tribute to that in the mix, along with wanting something that was just crazy and bombastic. That was the beginning of the Dual Rectifier.

Smith: The thing that’s so cool about guitar amplifiers is they basically create the sound of the music style being played. How else do you account for this huge diversity of country, rock, blues, and metal? It’s all the amplifier. Then, Doug and I had this idea—we called it the Stylist Series—where we’d make differently voiced amplifiers with different looks that perfectly captured the essence of specific musical styles. At some point, we looked at big hair bands that were playing giant stacks—even though some of them were actually using our Mark IIC+ behind the scenes—and decided to make the most outrageous metal amp we could conceive of. That became the Rectifier, Dual Rectifier and Triple Rectifier, and it far surpassed our expectations. It was explosive. The sounds were just off the charts. It was a groundbreaking amplifier, and we still make them.

West: Another huge element of the Rectifier was how it was dressed. We didn’t just want it to sound amazing, we wanted it to look amazing. Randy came up with the idea of the diamond plate, and we just were like, “Wow—that's the most crazy thing we've ever imagined. Let's do it.” 

Aschow: I don’t think anybody saw the Rectifier thing coming. That was a phenomena all in itself. It was a turn we took due to the music styles happening in the ’80s, and it just took off. We were building hundreds of those things each day. It was crazy. Doug and I also developed the closed-back Rectifier cabinets and, to this day, those are our top sellers. They show up on stages everywhere.

West: I think it’s fair to say those cabinets are viewed like some of the best cabinets ever made. Even people who don’t like our amps use Rectifier cabinets.

Aschow: I take such pride in the Rectifier series, because it was such a big departure for us. A clean slate. We were going for a whole new look—all the way down to the diamond plate on the front panel of the amplifier. A lot of our other amps kind of spawn off another model. We’d try to take a little bit of what we had and improve upon it. But the Rectifier was straight out of nowhere. I’d have to say that was probably the most exciting project, as well as to see it become so successful.

How Boogie Builds Tone

Smith and West are the first to admit it takes a village—or an entire company—to create Boogie magic. But the quest for tone typically starts with them.

Smith: Doug and I will work on a first prototype until we think it has magic. The next step is to translate the prototype into something that’s producible. You see, it’s one thing to make an amplifier that sounds great. It’s another huge challenge to make an amp where they all sound great. For example, when we were developing the Rectifiers, the first prototype had the most incredible harmonics. Doug and I spent nine months trying to duplicate those on subsequent amplifiers. In the process, we made some discoveries that are our deep, dark secrets of how to make amps where every single one sounds amazing.

Pictured: MESA/Boogie Fillmore 50 Guitar Amplifier Head

West: A typical tone session with Randy and I would be him with a soldering iron and me with a guitar. We go through everything we can think of—literally part by part—to craft the sound of the amplifier. We usually start with something Randy already has working, whether it’s a previous amp we've made, or a prototype he built after we discussed some ideas. The process can go on for a week or two years.

Smith: We call ourselves “The Home of Tone” because we’re not wedded to any one particular sound. For example, Fender kind of owns the clean sound. Marshall owns rock and metal. VOX has the jangly chime. We don’t have a trademark sound. Because I’m not a guitar player, I have no prejudices. All tones are equally valid to me, and my art is trying to design the coolest amp that will satisfy whatever stylistic desire a player has. Everything is about the tone and the feel of the amplifier. Everything has to be in service to the sound and the tactile experience of playing an amp. Guitar is an amazing instrument, because there’s both the tactical, tactile sensation of playing, and there’s the auditory sensation of playing. The amplifier is the link between those.

MESA/Boogie Quality Control

Maintaining and enhancing MESA/Boogie’s reputation that its products are built as tough as tanks has been taken extremely seriously since Dave Kessner told Smith in the late 1960s that many musicians need their gear fixed, and there is virtually no one to do it.  

Tommy Waugh: It really starts with the idea of what we’re going to develop, and then Randy and Doug will work on what it’s going to look like. Randy will go to town, and sometimes he gets the basic circuit spit out in a week—what we call the “Frankenstein”—and we have to catch up with him. From there, it’s really a two-man team with Doug and Randy. As we get closer, they’ll bring in more people, and we start to go down rabbit holes to fine tune everything. Eventually, we send it to our “tone brother and shakedown guru—Steve Mueller in Dallas, Texas—and he’ll send us a list of things to fix or improve. At some point, John [Marshall] and I will take all of these crazy ideas and work on the production systems—making sure everything is right with the board and chassis, teaching everyone in the facility how to put the product together and get it across the finish line. It’s a collaboration all the way through—a series of steps. But we don’t just sit down together and make it. Everyone has their piece.

John Marshall: When I first got here, Jim was the basically the top level of “the buck stops here.” If someone on the team notified us about an issue with a pot, a switch or even the silkscreen on the chassis, he would have us stop building the amp. We would simply stop, pull out the defective parts, notify the manufacturer or distributor and deal with it. Quality control is really tight.

Pictured: John Marshall, MESA/Boogie Sr. R&D Engineer

Waugh: There’s so much detail in the craftsmanship. We spend a lot of time making Boogie products—nothing is slapped together. For example, the Mark VII has just under one thousand parts, and every single one must be correct. We rely on a lot of good people to make this happen, and we have a passion-driven production line. Many of the people have been working here a long time, they really care about what they’re making and they’re excited to make it. That comes out in every product we make. No one is just showing up to get a paycheck. Well built here in Petaluma, California. I think that’s our legacy.

The Legendary Boogie Hammer Test

One more thing: Quality control is such an essential part of Boogie production that every amp on the assembly line is literally pulverized before a player even sees it.

Smith:  Early on, while I was still at Prune Music and repairing amps, this big, burly guy named Dave—who was a tech for Country Joe and the Fish—arrived with a truckload of gear and said, “Hey, I want you to go through all of this stuff and make sure it’s reliable, because it really takes a beating on the road.” As he was saying that while opening the back of the truck, a Fender Dual Showman head fell out onto the sidewalk. “See what I mean?” I realized right then that the mechanical abuse of stuff getting transported, set up, torn down and knocked around probably accounted for a lot of troubles requiring repairs. So, for that very amp, I came up with the fabled “hammer test.” Here’s how it works. I’d turn up an amp full blast—though not connected to a signal—and beat on it with a hammer until something broke. Then, I’d fix that thing, and beat on it again until the next thing broke. I would beat on the amp endlessly until nothing further would break. As a result of that simple test, most of the gear that came through our shop was more reliable than it had ever been before. Every MESA/Boogie that has ever been built has been subjected to a serious pounding to shakedown any mechanical unreliability and any other faults that may occur.

Pictured: The Legendary MESA/Boogie "Hammer Test"

2023: MESA/Boogie Mark VII

Coming full circle, Smith, West and the team produce an amp that encapsulates almost every sound from Mark series history—as well as a surprise or two—into a single design. Defined by Boogie as “Nine amps in one,” the Mark VII is the most versatile amplifier the company has ever produced.

Marshall: The Mark VII was a long-term project that took perhaps three years to really develop. It was put it on my bench when it was basically ready. It sounded fantastic already, but I dove into polishing and tweaking the circuit with input from Randy, Doug and the rest of the team. It’s really cool to see the refinements Randy makes, as well as all of the secrets we use to get the best out of any kind of circuit.

West: With the Mark VII, I think we got back to the explosive fire in the notes that the Mark IIC+ had. The Mark VII is like a racehorse—it just blows my mind. It’s taken all of our history, experience and expertise to create this, and make it reliable and consistent. If I’d had a Mark VII in 1980, I'd have been so stoked, but we couldn’t do it back then. We needed all the years since to arrive at this level, get it all orchestrated and put together cohesively and solidly.

The Boogie Mission

From its beginnings in a Berkeley storeroom to joining the Gibson family, MESA/Boogie has always been an intimate “household” of loyal employees, impassioned craftspeople, innovative thinkers and sonic explorers who always have their customers’ back.

Aschow: I didn’t know what to expect in the early days of the company. Boogie had a very loose and eclectic environment. There were a lot of musicians working here, so things could get pretty crazy. But I took to managing it easily. It just worked for me. It felt comfortable. Eventually, I was able to get more involved and tighten things up a little bit. When I became executive vice president, I was calling the shots and stuff like that, but a lot of it was curating people. I would do all the hiring myself to find people who were the perfect fit. We were building this family, and I spent a lot of time, energy and thought on that. Obviously, there were skill levels involved, but a lot of it came down to personality. Would someone really feel like they belonged here—could they adapt, excel and give it 110 percent?

Pictured: Jim Aschow, MESA/Boogie Master Artisan

Smith: We are like a big family that just loves to hang out together and experience this incredible journey of making great amplifiers and seeing them on stage with, say, Paul McCartney. It’s wonderful. It’s amazing to tell people, “You built that amp.” They just swell with pride. But I also ask them, “How would you have felt if that amp had blown up on stage? You’re responsible for that, too. Don’t forget [reliability is] the other part of what you do.”

Marshall: I’ve been fortunate to be able to work on a lot of artists’ amplifiers and one of them was for some guy named Paul McCartney. When we were getting ready to put out the Prodigy and Strategy bass amps, he got the first four of them—actually, serial numbers one through four. Randy had got the amps to a certain point and then he dropped them on my bench. I was essentially the last one to button things up before we boxed them up and sent the amps to Paul’s crew. It’s really inspiring to sit at home watching The Colbert Report with McCartney as the guest, and right behind him you see the amp you worked on. It’s neat to be able to make amps for musicians at such a high level and see that they love them.

Waugh: It really is a family atmosphere here. It’s not just a chemistry, it’s more like a bond. I know everyone’s birthday. I know their wives or husbands, and their dogs. I know where their kids go to school.

Smith: One thing that I’m especially proud of is the longevity of everybody being here and working more like a band than a company. Everybody collaborates. Everything overlaps. There are a lot of hella-good players in this company, so it’s not just Doug and me. We may lay the groundwork, but any number of people in the building are involved and collaborate.

Left: Kevin Robertson (Final Play Test Inspection), Middle: Tommy Waugh (Product Manager), Right: Doug West (Gibson Tone Lab Director)

West: I believe the spirit of the company is that we care about our customers. We always have. Because we are them. It’s a huge satisfaction when we can bring them great tone and help them succeed. We create tools—instruments—that help people emote. That inspires us, and in turn, brings them joy. It’s a great big feedback loop and one we have immense gratitude for.

Smith: Over more than 50 years, I’ve watched musical styles change dramatically, and I’ve never lost track of the thought that my job is to serve the music and the musicians. I have to be able to produce what they want as musical trends come and go. We’ve always had two main policy concepts here, and both of them are really simple. Number one is make the best amplifier products possible with no excuses. Number two is treat every customer, player, supplier and employee the way you would like to be treated—with no exceptions.