Review: James Trussart Deluxe Steelcaster

The Trussart Deluxe Steelcaster is a zero-bullshit music machine. The name tells you exactly what it is: a Fender-style guitar fashioned out of steel. And the look—a rusted, hollow metal body that shows the scuffs and scars of age—provides fair warning of the gnarly tone you'll find within.

The design (equal parts Frank Gehry and H.R. Geiger) was dreamt up by French artist James Trussart, who lives and works in Los Angeles. He crafts the bodies out of steel, then exposes them to the elements until they start to corrode, stopping the rusting process once it's reached the point when it's "just so." Trussart adds some finishing touches (intricate engravings, delicate paint, a few rubs of sandpaper) before applying a satin coat, bolting on a beautiful Strat-style neck and fitting the guitar with hand-wound pickups.

There are extras, like a perforated back and hand-engraved bodies and headstocks. Trussart makes about 300 guitars and basses a year. They're all different, but they all look like they can chomp your leg off.

James Trussart holding a Steelcaster with a Gibson-style guitar next to him.

I've been lucky enough to hold dozens of Gibsons, Fenders, Martins, and Rickenbackers over the years, and the Trussart is right up there in terms of build quality and workmanship (not to mention price point; Deluxe Steelcasters start at around $5,200). The guitar I tested is a well-balanced eight pounds, and the neck is damn near perfect. Visit Trussart's website and you'll see photos of A-list players like Eric Clapton, Billy Gibbons, and Tom Morello slinging Trussarts on stage. Marc Ribot owns one, which is all the endorsement I need.

Of course, purists will argue that an all-steel ax like the Trussart will never be able to reproduce the sound of a "real" wooden guitar, and they're absolutely correct. The rusty beast is bit of a one-trick pony, but man can this pony run.

My loaner Steelcaster came loaded with custom pickups by Arcane, Inc. hand-wound to Trussart's specifications. When I plugged it in to a vintage 1960s Fender combo, I was expecting something between a thin squeal and the weak, mid-rangey honk common to other non-wood instruments. Instead, I was blown away. The tone is brawny and forceful, with all the subtlety of a kick to the face. The Steelcaster produces gobs of big, bad Dave Alvin twang. We're talking all meat and potatoes, even at lower levels. Crank it up and the room gets hot enough to melt the glass wrapped around your whiskey.

While the guitar has enough swagger to cut through the clatter of any live band situation, it offers little in the way of nuance. You get the same sustain as a wooden instrument, but you don't get that rich thickness or the warmth in the bottom end. But that's kind of the point: The thing looks like a Smith & Wesson, so only a fool would expect it to perform like a Stradivarius.