VOX AMPLIFIERS:
The JMI Years
since grown to over two thousand amps).
Recalling how organizing the data from all the
amps he’d collected changed his approach,
Elyea says, “at one point, I could see that
instead of one large series of numbers that
all the amps shared, each model had its own,
distinctive sequence. This was a major revelation, to be able to demonstrate that there was
a logic behind the Vox numbering scheme.”
The obsession resurfaced, and Elyea decided
that the book should be as complete as possible. The scope of the book grew wider and
wider, from the low powered amps to the
larger 50 and 100 watt models. “Then, I realized I had to do all the amps,” he says, “not
just my favorites. As I began to research the
other models, I began to see that they were
all cool, just in different ways, and they were
all my favorites.” But it wasn’t just the details
of Vox’s product output during the JMI years
that captured the author’s attention.
The historical scope of the book began to
take on life of its own, as well. “My wife Pam
suggested I put an ad in the local Dartford
newspapers asking to talk to people that had
worked at JMI/Vox or their suppliers,” he
recounts. “About a week later, the floodgates
opened. I was deluged with calls from former
JMI workers who were anxious to tell their
tales. At this point, I realized there was much
more than a field guide—there was a story.”
It is quite a story, too—at least it is the way
Elyea tells it—and a story not without its
touches of pathos. There is, for example, the
account of “The Shed.” One of the byproducts of Vox’s revolutionary Artist’s Loan program, which had been responsible for the
ubiquitous presence of Vox equipment on the
stages of the most celebrated acts of the era,
was the growing collection of worn and well-used amps that were being stored in a shed
behind the factory in Dartford. When the shed
got full and something was needed to fill up a
hole that had been dug at a nearby construction site, the decision was made to kill two
