I found this online and don't know if it is the gospel truth or embellished for dramatic effect. Still a cool story from the early days of guitar amplification.

In 1960, a young guitarist walked into Leo Fender's shop in Fullerton, California, carrying a box of smoking components that used to be a speaker.
He set it on the floor.
He needed another one.
His name was Dick Dale. Born Richard Monsour in Boston in 1937, the son of a Lebanese father and a Polish-Belarusian mother, he had moved to California and become something the music industry had no framework for: a left-handed guitarist playing a right-handed Stratocaster strung in reverse, with strings so heavy they were closer to piano wire than guitar strings, playing rhythms borrowed from Middle Eastern music at speeds the term "staccato" barely describes — and doing all of it through amplifiers designed for polite jazz rooms and quiet country picking.
The amplifiers of the early 1960s were not built for what Dick Dale was doing to them.
The amplifiers of the early 1960s were not built for what Dick Dale was.

Dale had found his audience at the Rendezvous Ballroom on the Balboa Peninsula in California. Four thousand people — screaming, dancing, completely beyond themselves — packed into a building by the ocean. The music was not meant to be appreciated. It was meant to move through a person like a wave through water. Dale played at maximum volume until the paper cone inside the speaker detached from its housing, the voice coil caught fire, and the box went silent.
He drove the smoking carcass to Fender.
Fender gave him a stronger speaker. Dale took it back to the Rendezvous.
He destroyed it in two days.
Fender gave him another one.
Dale destroyed that one too.
This became their routine. Dale played until things broke. He drove the wreckage to Fullerton. Fender built something stronger. Dale broke that too.
The number of destroyed speakers is the stuff of legend. The specific tally is less important than what it represented: a musician whose physical demands were simply outside the range of any existing technology. Not by a small margin. By a factor that made the engineers realize they were not solving an amplifier problem.
They were solving a physics problem.

Leo Fender and his right-hand engineer Freddie Tavares went to the Rendezvous one night and stood in the middle of four thousand dancing fans, and understood for the first time what Dale had been trying to tell them. They could not keep patching the same design. They needed to build something that had never existed.
Fender built a new transformer rated at 85 watts, peaking at 100 watts — power unheard of for a single guitarist. Then they went to the James B. Lansing speaker company and asked for a 15-inch speaker built to specific new specifications. The result was the JBL D130F — a speaker with a rubberized suspension system, a reinforced metal frame, and an aluminum dust cover strong enough to survive what Dale would do to it.
The new amplifier was named the Showman, after Dale himself.
Dale wanted more.
They built an even larger transformer — 100 watts rated, peaking at 180 watts — and a cabinet housing two 15-inch JBL D130F speakers running in series. They called it the Dual Showman.
Dale put it on the stage. He plugged in. He turned it up.
The walls shook. The floorboards vibrated.
The speaker held.

The price Dale paid was not abstract.
He played so hard that plastic picks melted against his strings mid-performance. His fingers bled during concerts. And the volume he demanded night after night, year after year, took his hearing — permanently and irreversibly — long before the career ended.
He didn't want to be heard.
He wanted to be felt.
He wanted the music to pass through a body the way a wave passes through water — not as sound processed by the ears, but as physical energy moving through the chest, the stomach, the floor underfoot.
He got it.
And in the process, he became the first guitarist to jump from the modest volume settings of the era all the way to ten — creating the first full-scale, high-volume live guitar sound in history.
The hardware he forced into existence became the blueprint. The JBL D130F speakers and the Fender Showman amplifiers set a new standard for guitar tone and live sound that found their way into amplifiers throughout the 1960s and 1970s and beyond. Every amplifier that followed — every arena stack, every stadium rig — was descended from the equipment built to survive Dick Dale.
Dick Dale died on March 16, 2019.
The amplifiers he forced into existence are still in studios around the world.
Some of them carry warning labels near the volume dial.
They were put there because of what one musician did when the existing technology told him no.
He said: build something better.

You can find my music at:
www.herbhartley.com
Add nothing that adds nothing to the music.
You can make excuses or you can make progress but not both.

The magic you are looking for is in the work you are avoiding.