I finally went through the papers tucked inside Enza’s Müb gig bag.
I’ve owned her for a while now, but I had never really sat down to read the details of the materials that went into making her. I knew Maurizio had refurbished her himself. I knew how she felt in my hands, how her low B responded, and that sense of fullness I could never quite describe without reaching for the Italian word pienezza.
But now I know a little more about what she’s made of.
Her body is listed as Palaquium, sourced from Malaysia, making up approximately 60% of the materials specified. There is a 10% maple insert, identified as Acer saccharum from the USA, and another insert made from Intsia palembanica, also from Malaysia.
Her fretboard is Guibourtia ehie, a hardwood from Africa, listed at 20%. Her logo and side dots are made from mother-of-pearl sourced from Pinctada maxima, the silver-lipped pearl oyster.
That’s quite a journey for a compact five-string bass made by an Italian luthier in Kuala Lumpur.
Malaysian tropical hardwoods, North American maple, African ovangkol, and the iridescent inner shell of a pearl oyster. Different materials, different origins, brought together in one small instrument.
I looked up the names. Palaquium belongs to a genus of tropical trees found in Southeast Asia. Sugar maple is a familiar hardwood used in instrument making. Intsia palembanica is merbau, known for its density and durability. Guibourtia ehie, commonly called ovangkol, is a West African hardwood. And Pinctada maxima produces the nacre we know as mother-of-pearl.
I won’t pretend I can hear each wood separately in Enza’s voice. An instrument is more than the sum of its timber, and a list of materials cannot explain everything about how she responds to a player’s hands. Construction, geometry, hardware, strings, setup and electronics all matter.
Besides, I bought Enza to play her, not to conduct a study on wood.
Still, there’s something satisfying about discovering these details after the fact. The paperwork gives me another way to appreciate an instrument I already enjoy. It reminds me that even a compact bass can bring together materials from different parts of the world, selected and shaped by one maker.
Enza has always felt complete to me. Now I know a little more about the materials that went into making her that way.
I suppose that’s part of owning an instrument. You can spend months learning what she does in your hands, then open a pocket in her gig bag and discover there’s still more to learn.
making room for enza
I’m not a bassist, so I don’t naturally reach for Enza the way I do my guitars. In fact, she’d been sitting in her gig bag for a few weeks.
Today, I took her out and played her again. As always, it was a joy. She’s so easy to play that I sometimes wonder why I leave her untouched for so long.
The answer, I think, has less to do with Enza than with the way I’ve arranged my workspace.
At my balcony workstation, the Phil Jones X4C Nanobass used to sit tucked inside a shelf. My VHT Special 6 and Orange PPC108 sat side by side in the open underneath the tabletop. To play bass, I had to reach into the shelf, switch on the X4C, plug in the cable and adjust the volume. None of that was difficult, but together it became a small hassle.
So I made a simple change. I swapped the positions of the PPC108 and the X4C.
The PPC108 doesn’t need adjustments, and I can still hear her voice clearly enough from the lower shelf. The X4C now sits in the open, next to the Special 6, on top of a small IKEA footstool. I can reach her controls without having to stretch into the shelf.
With The Tchula ready to go, Enza is now much easier to pick up and play.
It’s a small change, but it removes a little resistance between wanting to play and actually doing it. I don’t need to make a conscious effort to practise bass more often. I just need to make it easier to start.
That also explains why I’m selling my 1977 Fender Precision Bass. She’s a darn good vintage bass, but holding her at my balcony workstation isn’t comfortable. I can appreciate what she is without pretending she’s the right instrument for the way I play at home.
Enza is different. She’s compact, comfortable and immediately rewarding when I pick her up. I may not be a bassist, but I enjoy playing her.
Perhaps owning instruments isn’t just about finding the right ones. It’s also about arranging our spaces so that the instruments we love are within reach.
Enza has spent enough time in her gig bag. Now she’s sitting where I can get to her easily.
Let’s see how much more we play together.