Music was my first love. At 12, I was already playing electric bass in a band, finding my groove. Then one day, while riding my bike around the neighborhood, I stumbled across a treasure in the trash: a half-made guitar and a pile of parts. It was a Kent neck on a homemade Flying V body, with pencil lines scratched across it—a dream someone left behind. I pedaled home fast, guitar in hand, and got my mom to drive her van back with me to grab every piece. That find flipped a switch. I built my first guitar from those scraps—a custom body I shaped myself, painted with a 20-year-old can of cool blue spray paint my dad had from the ‘70s. I wired it with a Harmony DeArmond mustache pickup at the neck, a no-name bridge pickup, and a bridge from a Chandler parts bag. The control plate was a scrap of plastic from my old shower wall. It was rough and raw, but it was mine. I still keep that body and neck as a memento of where it all started.

At 13, I convinced my now-great friend Rick Bruccoleri—a master craftsman—to take me on as his apprentice. I soaked up his wisdom for years, and during that time, I found eBay. What began as a way to clear shop clutter turned into me selling over $10,000 worth of “junk” inventory—proof I could spot value in the overlooked. In my mid-teens, I started importing from Japan—hundreds of guitars and thousands of parts over the years, diving deep into the trade. For nearly a decade, I threw myself into the business of guitars—sourcing, selling, learning the ropes. But somewhere along the way, I drifted from that kid who’d built a blue guitar from nothing, dreaming of crafting something truly his own.

Then I met Joe Jesselli. I was rummaging through local shops, hunting gear to flip, when we crossed paths. We clicked instantly—two guys who’d lived and breathed guitars but needed a push. Joe was still building, hands deep in the work, though he’d told me his excitement for the instruments themselves had faded for a time. He’d turned his focus to the craft—the process, the styles—and sharing that with me reignited my fire. Together, we rediscovered what drew us here. Tragically, Joe passed away recently, in late 2024, just weeks before the first Zamm guitar was built—a creation that poured everything he’d taught me into its soul. He never got to see it completed, but his influence echoes in every curve and string. I’m determined to honor his memory, leaning on the skills he shared and chasing the ones he didn’t, keeping his spirit alive in every guitar we build.

Now, in 2025, with Rick Bruccoleri still by my side after nearly three decades of friendship, Zamm Guitars is taking flight. That first Zamm guitar marks the beginning—a tribute to Joe, crafted with quality first, stunning looks, and a feel that’s pure magic. We’ve set the bar sky-high, and we’ll keep raising it. This isn’t just a business; it’s a promise—to that 12-year-old bassist with a scavenged dream, to Joe’s enduring legacy, and to everyone who believes a guitar should be extraordinary.

-Kevin