The chapter traces the long, unheralded history of Black women electric guitarists in the United States from the 1940s to the present century. It identifies the unique challenges they face striving to work in an American music landscape that adores Black women as singers but largely overlooks them when they strap an electric guitar onto their bodies. It uses historical research and oral history interviews with intergenerational artists in blues, gospel, and rock to explore how race, gender, and genre conventions manifest and intersect to create barriers and opportunities.

Guitar shop showrooms are museums of design. As visitors walk by rows of instruments, they encounter a tactile history of popular music. However, shoppers may notice that the majority of electric guitars available in the modern marketplace are strikingly similar. While there are certainly instances of radically new styles, they are outnumbered by instruments that resemble mid-twentieth century designs, such as the Fender Stratocaster and the Gibson Les Paul. This chapter explores moments in electric guitar design history that speak to marketplace tensions between historical consciousness and innovation. There is a widespread belief that the electric guitar was perfected half a century ago. Therefore, new design choices must be in conversation with the past. Success stories—such as Fender’s Custom Shop series—rely upon such historical nods. Design flops—such as Gibson’s “G-Force” automatic tuner—fail because they innovate beyond what buyers are willing to accept. So, is the electric guitar dead, as some commentators have proclaimed? I argue that the instrument is in a persistent state of rebirth as new models move forwards by looking backwards.

This chapter introduces the electric guitar in Southeast Asia through its history, cultural and political significance, and signature within locally popular genres of music. For more than seventy years, the electric guitar has been a technology for aesthetic innovation and cultural exchange, inspiring new genres and intraregional scenes, and new playing techniques, instrumentation, and instrument manufacturing and trade. It has also been an agent of transformation for musicians, audiences, and even nations, attending to colliding epochs of decolonization, nation-building, authoritarianism, and neoliberalism. It has inspired youth reverie and dissent, and censorship and oppression—a maligned symbol of Western imperialism and an essential tool of expressive freedom. The electric guitar has much to tell us about what Waksman calls “a deeper shift in the cultural disposition toward sound” and noise, as Southeast Asian guitarists have broadened their tonal and timbral palettes with new possibilities in electronic signaling, amplification, and distortion. But it has an equally important role in helping us understand the residual impacts of colonization, the rise of nations and youth cultures, and Southeast Asia’s past, present, and future.