Guitar Legends Hall in press

Agosto de 1969. En una granja de Bethel, Nueva York, medio millón de jóvenes se reunieron para celebrar "tres días de paz y música". Pero Woodstock fue mucho más que un festival; fue la culminación de una década de cambios culturales, el apogeo del movimiento hippie y una declaración generacional que resonaría para siempre.
En el epicentro del Verano del Amor de 1967, cuando la música se fusionaba con el arte visual en una explosión de color y libertad, una guitarra se convirtió en el símbolo de toda esa revolución.
In the ’70s and ’80s, while many guitarists were trying to be the fastest, a master of sound showed that the real power of the guitar lay not in the number of notes, but in the quality of each one.
In the Pantheon of Legendary Guitars, there are iconic names: “Blackie,” “Frankenstrat,” “Red Special.” But only one name evokes not just a sound, but a love story. A name that belongs to the royalty of blues and was christened in flames. That name is Lucille.
Before stadiums and massive festivals, the music that would change the world was brewing in the shadows of hidden bars and juke joints along the Mississippi. In smoky venues in Nashville and Memphis, between clinking glasses and the haze of tobacco smoke, the blues was electrifying—mutating into something rawer, faster, and filled with irresistible energy.
Before rock and roll filled stadiums, before epic solos and hair flying in the wind, someone had to draw the blueprints. Someone had to take blues, country, and R&B and build something entirely new, vibrant, and aimed at a generation that didn’t know it was waiting. That architect was Chuck Berry, and his design tool was a Gibson guitar.