MXR’s new Slash Octave Fuzz pedal employs three fuzz “flavors” – Sub-Octave, Fuzz, and Octave Up – that offer a palette of distinctive, utilizable sounds. The pedal, built with analog circuitry, true-bypass switching, and a heavy-duty housing, sports custom artwork with Slash’s famed tophatted-skull-and-crossbones motif. In developing the Octave Fuzz, Slash worked with MXR’s design team, and while few may associate Slash with the octave-fuzz effect, he uses it on occasion to color his sound, not overpower it. One place you can definitely hear it is on his latest studio album, Apocalyptic Love, where Slash provided input to the Dunlop design team while they tweaked prototypes.
The layout incorporates five knobs and the push switch. The unit’s Volume control dials in the volume of dry signal when the Sub Into Fuzz button is disengaged, and controls volume of the main fuzz when Sub Into Fuzz is engaged. The Tone knob shapes overall EQ of the main fuzz, and the Fuzz knob controls the intensity of the main fuzz. Sub Octave controls the volume of the sub-octave voice, while the Octave Up knob controls the volume of octave-up fuzz. The primary function of the Sub Into Fuzz switch is to swap the fuzz on or off; the sub-octave effect functions in both modes, but its presence is dependent on the level of sub-octave mix set with the Sub Octave knob.
There are two footswitches on the pedal; the left one (On) engages the pedal, while the right (Up) engages the octave-up fuzz in addition to whatever mode the user has configured. Internal trim pots control intensity and overall EQ of the octave-up effect. Given its many options, it does take time and experimentation to understand the controls and how the effects interact. To test the pedal, we used a Gibson Les Paul (with humbuckers) and a 120-watt/EL34-driven amp, which provided an excellent platform to hear the pedal with minimal coloration.
You can use the pedal’s Sub Octave function without adding fuzz, which is how we started; in order for the clean signal to roughly equal the signal coming out of the pedal in this mode, the pedal’s Volume knob must be turned up all the way. Used this way, the effect sounds very good and tracks quite well, providing hefty tones when mixed with the clean signal. When you engage the Sub Into Fuzz, the pedal bumps output significantly, so you have to roll off the Volume knob before doing so (with the Sub Into Fuzz circuit engaged, the Volume knob becomes the primary output-level control).
In designing this pedal, one of Dunlop’s goals was to develop a more-predictable version of the ’70s MXR Blue Box fuzz pedal, and the Slash achieves that. By blending its fuzz with the sub-octave effect, it can generate prime razor-cut-speaker tones, oozing with sludge and perfect for whipping out cool Deep-Purple-type keyboard riffs.
To continue our orange-shag-carpet trip, we bypassed the sub-octave effect and used the pedal as a straight fuzz unit, which rendered some hairy, mind-bending tones. No doubt, though, the pedal’s strong suit is the ability to utilize the Sub Octave and Octave Up features, individually or together. The Octave Up effect is conjoined with its own fuzz sound that is blended using an internal gain trim. Turned all the way down, it adds just a touch of fuzz that sounds unique. In that context or in combination with the Sub Octave and the main fuzz, the pedal steps into Hendrix-like territory; particularly when a Strat is used to launch those familiar riffs.
One feature we found particularly cool was the ability to bypass the fuzz. If you’re looking for a different sort of overdrive or distortion along with a sub-octave effect, this unit can deliver. Again, you can’t separate the Octave Up from its associated fuzz, but you can control the blend of the effect in the overall mix. We gave it a try through a 100-watt Marshall head, where the amp’s natural overdrive, blended with the Sub Octave, created a monolithic sound while retaining the amp’s natural overdrive. Awesome!
There are a multitude of tones waiting to be discovered with this unit. Numerous voicings are accessible by experimenting with the interaction of different controls and switches. Whether you want to use the effect subtly to thicken up your tone, or in copious amounts to shake the collective innards of your audience, the MXR Slash Octave Fuzz has some great sounds awaiting discovery.
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The wah is an iconic and enduring guitar effect – steady favorite tool of expression for players of all genres. In recent years, many high-profile players have tied their names to “signature” wah pedals that tweak the output or some mechanical nuance. The new Cry Baby Classic SC-95 was conceived with input from the cat in the hat himself, who has thrown down a notable wah passage a time or two.
The pedal has a true-bypass switch, custom-wound resonance inductor, die-cast housing with custom artwork (rust-and-black-color scheme matched on the PCB board, Slash’s tophat-skull logo molded into the treadle’s rubber pad), and dual side-mounted blue LEDs which display the unit’s on/off status.
If you’re going to test-run a pedal with Slash’s name and imagery attached, logic would dictate you use his guitar of choice – a Les Paul with humbuckers. So we did, plugged into a 100-watt Marshall head and 4×12 cab… cranked. Immediately, the pedal proffered familiar rock-and-roll wah sounds the likes of which have been heard by millions over the years. The first distinctive attribute was the Slash wah’s wide sweep – a rich, vocal-like sound that maintained the fundamental tone of our rig. Dunlop tuned the pedal’s EQ sweep to a lower frequency, which helps give it a warm, thick sound devoid of harshness at any point. Not too dark, not too bright.
Through a 15-watt/EL84-based combo, we were happy to hear how the pedal produced the same characteristics as through the arena-sized rig. With a single-coil Strat running clean through a 2×12 cab and playing the obligatory “Shaft”-style funk/rhythm, it performed admirably.
The LED indicators are great a feature, especially when playing live, and the graphics (inside and out) look pretty cool, too. If you’re needing a wah that delivers a unique tone, looks sharp, and is well-built, the Slash Crybaby Classic is worthy of consideration.
This article originally appeared in VG December 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Most guitarists will never have the opportunity to play high-end or vintage gear, but that’s what guitar pornography like this book is for. If you’ve never been fortunate enough to play or own a 1967 Guild Starfire V, EccoSonic amp, or Musitronics Mu-Tron III, author and VG contributor Dave Hunter offers you the next best thing: great photos and Gear Acquisition Syndrome-inducing information about the greatest gear in the world.
This book is also a history lesson for guitarists. It’s a 320-page collection of the most iconic tools of the trade, with easy-to-digest information. With more than 680 photographs of the most precious guitars, amps, and effects, it’s a guitar wonderland that takes you from the rare to the bizarre to the essential. The Boss Super Overdrive SD-1, Fulltone Drive 2, and Line 6 POD, are all here alongside a ’66 Burns Bison, ’63 Vibroverb, and ’47 Fender Dual Professional.
This is a great resource for both the novice and the veteran guitarist. And it should be required reading for the serious guitarist who wants to improve their gear knowledge.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s February ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The 1964 Fender Stratocaster that Bob Dylan played at The Newport Folk Festival in July of 1965 sold today at Christie’s Auction in New York for $800,000, plus buyers’ premium of $165,000, reaching a new record for the price of a guitar sold at auction.
It was at Newport where Dylan played a short three-song electric set, accompanied by Mike Bloomfield, that caused folk purists to deride Dyland during the performance. Nonetheless, he returned for an encore – with an acoustic.
After the festival, Dylan left the guitar on a private plane, the pilot of which notified Dylan’s management, which never replied to his efforts to return it to the singer. The pilot’s family held onto the guitar and only recently resolved ownership issues. The sale prices exceeded the previous record established when Eric Clapton’s “Blackie” Strat sold in 2004 for $959,500 after fees.
Vivino with a Collings SoCo Deluxe, watching for a cue from Conan O’Brien. Photo: Paul Drinkwater/NBCU.
Growing up in New Jersey, Jimmy Vivino was in many ways a typical Italian-American kid. His life centered around family – his parents, siblings, and extended relatives – all of whom were vital to his development as a musician.
One of three sons born to an amateur-but-ardent trumpet player, Vivino and his brothers, Floyd and Jerry, grew up in a home where the music of jazz legends like Roy Eldridge, Louis Armstrong, Bobby Hackett, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, and Dinah Washington permeated the living-room walls, usually accompanied by their father and his horn, along with Broadway music and hit pop records of the day.
“Dad and his family came over on a boat from Italy, and their trade was carpentry, which meant being a professional musician wasn’t a consideration for him,” Vivino recalled. “He was a great trumpet player, and I think he was frustrated, never having the chance to play professionally. So when it came to his kids, he thought, ‘I’m going to let them do what they want to do’.”
By the age of eight, the youngest Vivino was steadfast in his desire to follow in his father’s horn-playing footsteps, so he took up the trumpet. His first “show business” gig originated in unlikely fashion.
“As a kid, I had a nervous habit where I’d shake my leg – I just had too much energy,” he said. “So at dinner, I’d bounce my leg up and down, and the whole table would shake. My father one day said, ‘We have to do something with this kid!’ In those days, they didn’t stick drugs in a kid and call it ADHD or whatever, so my parents sent me to tap-dancing lessons. That was my punishment! But then of course my brothers said, ‘Why does he get to go?’ (laughs) So we all went! And, as unhip as it sounds now, as a kid I was impressed with the Osmond Brothers, Andy Williams and his brothers, and Wayne Newton. So we formed this song-and-dance team; my brother, Floyd, played the piano, my other brother, Jerry, played the clarinet, and I played trumpet. In 1964, we performed our first show, at the New Jersey Pavilion at the World’s Fair.”
Though he would stick with the trumpet through high school and beyond, in ’64, he was amongst the legion to witness the Beatles’ first appearance on American television.
“‘The Ed Sullivan Show’ was something our whole family did together,” he recalled. “We’d have Sunday dinner, the old folks would watch Lawrence Welk, and the kids would go to the basement. Then, when Sullivan started, everybody – my grandmother, grandfather, parents, cousins, uncles, and the kids would sit and watch (laughs)! It gave us everything from Shirley Bassey to Topo Gigio to Jack E. Leonard and Alan King.”
After the Beatles on Sullivan, “Everything changed,” he added. “These guys playing their instruments and singing… they looked cool, but you could see they weren’t comfortable in their suits, so we knew there was some degree of showbiz in the act.”
Soon after, Vivino joined a band, playing trumpet and a Hammond organ. His innate musical curiosity eventually led him to guitar – the instrument he relied on most in his many and varied gigs, including as leader of the Basic Cable Band on “Conan.”
During our conversation, Vivino divulged the details that make up his musical background, spicing the talk with tidbits about music history and the instruments of his heroes.
Beyond the touchstone that was the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, what was a key element in your developing an appreciation for the guitar?
By the time I was 13, I was playing in bands, and we’d all go to the Fillmore – a carload of kids with a friend’s older brother as chaperone – and seeing those bands made me think, “I gotta be one of those guys onstage.” It was loud, and for $3 we got to see three bands. I’m glad I grew up when I did!
Was there any particular act that steered you toward guitar?
Well, I had been slowly drifting toward it. Until I was 23, though, I was a B-3 player with guitar in the back of my mind. I remember, I was nine years old and went to trumpet lesson one day and there in the studio was a Kay Old Kraftsman bass hanging on the wall. It was the simplest thing – looked like somebody whittled it on their porch (laughs)! But I’d stare at it and think, “How cool is that?” But I never got up the courage to say to my father, “I don’t want to play the trumpet,” because I thought it would break his heart. So I just kept borrowing a friend’s bass or guitar. Also, my uncle left an old Stella in our basement and I set it up with four strings so I could play bass lines using a broken piece of vinyl record as a pick. Still, though, from the time I finished high school until I was 23, my brother and I played in lounges six or seven nights a week. I played organ with him, but I got fed up. I said, “This is going nowhere and I’m not doing what I want to do.” So I stopped and started studying guitar with Joe Cinderella.
The “big three” in Vivino’s guitar collection are this ’53 Les Paul, ’52 Telecaster, and ’57 Duo-Jet. ’53 Les Paul and ’52 Tele photos by Barre Duryea. ’57 Duo Jet: Robert Wolpert.
What was the first group where you focused on guitar as your instrument?
I went on the road with a four-piece band that backed a comedian and a singer playing lounges all over New Jersey, Florida, and Las Vegas – really mobbed up joints (laughs)! I did that for a year and a half or so, then started playing on an underground TV show created by my brother called the “Uncle Floyd Show.” It focused on punk culture – his biggest fans were people like David Bowie, David Johanssen, Joey and Johnny Ramone, and they’d appear on the show all the time. There was a “Lunch With Soupy Sales” vibe, but for teenagers and young adults. The show’s band did gigs opening for the Ramones and other punk bands; we’d come out with tuxedos, doing a Vaudeville-like thing, and the punk audiences loved that stuff. People like Bowie and John Lennon were hiding in the audience.
I also was in bands with Phoebe Snow, playing some with Al Kooper, and had a band called Reckless Sleepers with Jules Shear and Steve Holly. But it wasn’t until I got to know Allan Pepper at the Bottom Line club that things really started to happen. After that, I was a working musician in New York. And I was lucky, because there are a million great guitar players, but getting gigs is a matter of where you are – it’s luck – and once the door opens you’ve got to show something. Like Tommy Tedesco said, “Take the gig and then figure out how to do the gig!” (laughs)
Are there guitar players who, at that time, were influencing you?
Mike Bloomfield was one. A friend’s older sister had the Butterfield album and Highway 61, and when I heard them, I thought, “Who’s playing guitar?” Bloomfield had this approach and sound rooted in B.B. King, but he also had a sense of adventure. You were with him on this wild ride – and he didn’t always make it! Sometimes he’d crash, then get back up and keep going. I learned later from Hubert Sumlin and other old blues guys that what Bloomfield did was “heart to hand” playing where you kind of leave your head out of it. It’s about connecting the heart to the hand, playing what you feel. Bloomfield was 90 percent feeling – on the attack, the way he hit the notes, and just sticking to the guitar and the amp. Johnny Winter was the same way.
What was it about Johnny’s playing?
He plugged straight in, man! I saw him at the Fillmore and he had three Fender Twins with JBLs – stacked like a pyramid! And with that setup, what could hurt you more than a Firebird (laughs)? I mean, they didn’t put mics on the amps in those days because they didn’t need to. I was in the fourth row and had to duck under the seat every time he took a solo! Later I learned, while working with him, that he just turned everything up all the way. The guitar, the amp, the treble up, bass off, midrange up. Bloomfield did the same thing – midrange was on 10, bass was off.
So, how did what you heard in those guys translate to your playing?
Well, I did what every kid does, and tried to copy every note they played. I worked with Al Kooper, and one night we were playing the Bottom Line – I had a Les Paul goldtop, a Deluxe, and my pedalboard, and he said, “You’re playing great, but that sound…” I said, “Look, I know what I’m doing, blah, blah, blah.” Well, turns out Joe Walsh was standing by the bar to the side of the stage. Al leaned over to me and said, “Joe’s gonna come up and do ‘Rocky Mountain Way.’” So Joe takes my Les Paul, pulls it out of the pedal board, plugs it straight in, turns everything up all the way – I had the amp on 3. I go, “Oh, Jesus!” But that’s all it took.
That night, I learned to use the amp – make it sweat – and turn the guitar down for rhythm parts and let your hands express… well, Joe Walsh’s whole arm goes into a chord. But that was one of the first times I experienced, up-close, what a great player is. Billy Gibbons is the same way. People ask, “How does he get that sound?” It’s just the guitar and the amp. Johnny Winter was like that, Bloomfield was like that, Jeff Beck was like that – and still is.
“I love my Harmony Rocket!” Vivino says of this ’66 model (left). This ’66 Epiphone Casino sees a lot of action when Vivino jams with Fab Faux. ’69 Fender Telecaster with a rosewood body. Harmony Rocket: Barre Duryea. Tele and Casino: Robert Wolpert.
How many electric guitars do you have?
Less than I used to (laughs)! At one time I had 300, but I felt bad because some wouldn’t come out of the locker for five or six years. So I sold them.
Before your collection peaked, were you buying for specific reasons or gigs?
Like anyone, the first thing I did was try to find the sounds I fell in love with. So I had to have a Gibson ES-150 Charlie Christian, just to have it. Then I realized, “I can’t do anything on this…” and I gave it to a guy who could. If something didn’t serve me as a tool, I’d save it for a while before I realized it’s not just about having it. Dying with all the toys? That’s no fun. And holding them hostage was the worst thing I could think of because at the time, guitars were leaving the country by the crate load. This is before Fender, Gibson, and Gretsch said, “We should make these things the way people want them again.” So there’s also the option to get a new one and not worry about it so much. And truthfully, some vintage guitars are great, some are not. To spend $250,000 on a ’Burst is great if you got it, and I hope you play it. I don’t think it needs to go in a glass case.
Did you downsize when the market was up?
I downsized when I needed to for financial reasons. So no, I let them go at fair price. I didn’t lose money, but I wasn’t out to make money. If I had some situation to deal with, guitars were my equity. I said, “They’re here to help me with the next step in my career, whatever it is.”
What are the “essential” guitars in your collection?
First is the ’53 goldtop, which I got from my friend, Brian, who played with Muddy Waters for a long time. He outbid Neil Young – Larry Cragg wanted the guitar for him. Brian turned me on to the real blues. I promised him I’d keep that guitar or sell it back to him if I want to get rid of it. But it’s never going anywhere – it’s my best guitar. I’ve had a ’59 ’burst that, due to a life tragedy, I had to let go, but I sold it instead of the goldtop.
Next would be the ’59/’60 Tele and the ’52 black-guard Tele, then a ’57 Duo Jet in black, like George Harrison’s. I got it for my gig with a Beatles cover band I’m in, Fab Faux, whose deal is to make the right sound. I have a ’65 Firebird, non-reverse with two P-90s – I really love it – it’s the best of my five Firebirds. I love my Harmony Rocket, and my Meteor, which is a great-sounding guitar. There’s also my ’65 Roger McGuinn-style blond Rickenbacker 12-string, which is really nice. I’d always wanted a Harmony Sovereign because a lot of the old blues guys played those, and I got one from ’62 or ’63. I had it restored and it plays great.
I’m not a big Strat guy, but my ’65 has the perfect Strat sound. I’ve been through a lot of Strats.
’59 Fender Duo-Sonic (left). Vivino says this ’65 Gibson Firebird III is the “best of my five Firebirds.” ’62 Les Paul SG in Pelham Blue. Duo-Sonic and Firebird: Robert Wolpert. Les Paul SG: Barre Duryea.
Is it about tone, the way they feel and play, or what?
The ’53 goldtop is my favorite, followed by the ’52 black-guard, which is equally as good on the other end of the spectrum. Those are the sounds – Telecaster and the P-90 goldtop; P-90 guitars were the sound of rock and roll in the beginning – Chuck Berry, Scotty Moore, B.B. King on an ES-5 and 175 early on, just about everything. A lot of classic jazz was played on P-90s, too, the Charlie Christian pickup is basically a P-90, then Scotty Moore in his Super 400 and his L-5 with Alnico pickups.
The Telecaster has always been the workhorse – James Burton, Luther Perkins – that great sound with flatwound strings. And it’s a guitar that, first and foremost, keeps you honest. Playing a Tele is like having an argument – sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t. But you stay in the fight, and when you win, you win big! Other times, it wins; Roy Buchanan struggled with it and beat the living daylights out of it! Robbie Robertson had a lifetime affair with it, so did Bloomfield. It can have a great sound when you hear a guy just wrenching notes out of one. Muddy Waters with a slide on a Tele is a force to be dealt with. Jimmy Bryant seemed to be the one guy who had no trouble mastering the Tele.
What’s behind your lack of enthusiasm for the Strat?
I think Hendrix playing a Strat, and then Stevie Ray Vaughan playing one made me not want to. They pretty much said it all (laughs)!
The bar was kind of high…
It’s kind of high, yes, but a lot of guys want to play a Strat, especially English guys, because of Hank Marvin. But to me, some players’ tones changed drastically with a Strat. Like Clapton; I love him, and his playing today is better than ever, but the tone I remember and love most was on the Beano record and the Cream stuff, with a Gibson. Then again, there’s something beautiful about the purity when he switched with Delaney and Bonnie, then “Layla.” He shed everything about himself, from the way he looked to the way he sounded to the music he was playing and the way he sang. He threw all of it, almost like a penance thing where he had to play a Strat (laughs)! It was like, “I have to start over.” There’s something great about that. And I love him, I think he’s the best guitar player out there right now. Robin Trower… Where was that great Les Paul sound from when I first heard Trower play with Procol Harem? Even Bloomfield switched to a Strat toward the end of his life, and to me, his tone was gone… but that’s just me being selfish and holding on to the first sounds that slayed me.
Which amps have been key to your career?
That’s a whole other ball of worms… Another can of wax! I really love AC30s, but now that I’m in California I started finding all these Fenders. But I don’t use old amps on road gigs; you move them and a soldier joint comes loose or something else, things happens. Even on “Conan” I use new amps.
What do you have right now?
I’m using a Fender Twinolux and a Blackstar. Sometimes an AC15 or AC30.
The Blackstar has that Vox vibe covered?
Yeah, Billy Gibbons turned me on to those when he was playing through a 1×12. I basically like the sound of a Fender and a Vox together. So I’m running them both, they’re both around 20 watts.
What other amps reside in the collection?
Vintage-wise, here in L.A. I have a couple of brown Princetons from ’61, one with white knobs. I’ve got a secret amp – a blackface Pro Reverb. There’s also a ’64 Twin, and I just got a 4×10 Kustom combo – black naugahyde, like John Fogerty’s. Some of the sounds we loved in the ’60s were made with solidstate amps like that – Albert King played through Acoustic amps, Lonnie Mack was using solidstate after he stopped using Magnatones. Carlos Santana was playing through Acoustic amps when I saw him, and Fogerty had those Kustom 2x12s with the tuck-and-roll cover. I found one for $200 and did the normal thing – put $800 into it (laughs)!
Do you eye certain amps for playing certain parts or gigs?
Yeah. Fab Faux is always a Vox. With Al Kooper, I used mostly Super Reverbs. I have a bunch of other really cool amps – one of my favorites is a 1×12 Premier Custom with reverb and vibrato. It’s 20 watts, 30 tops – great amp that I keep on the East Coast. On Johnny Winter’s last album, I used that amp with just a two-pickup Les Paul Black Beauty on “Further On Up the Road.”
Paul Waller, Master Builder in the Fender Custom Shop, built this Fender/Gretsch mélange Vivino affectionately calls “the white chicken.” Photo: Matt Ferguson/Fender.
What’s your day like on the Conan show?
I go in at 9 a.m., have a meeting at 10, then I usually write or do any recording that needs to be done for bits. We have a studio setup here and my guitar tech, Barre Duryea, runs my Pro Tools. The band comes in at noon, we rehearse for an hour, then we rehearse with Conan on-set – he always has a guitar in his hands.
On the show, I know people watch to see what we’re playing, so I make it a point to play guitars by a lot of new makers – Collings, James Trussart, PRS, Ronin, Eastwood stuff. There are a lot of great guitars being made, so I tell the guys to send something and we’ll play it. I ask, “Are you making something that thinks it’s a Les Paul?” and if they are, I say, “I don’t want to play it!” (laughs) So PRS will send me something like a small archtop, or Collings will send an electric. I love Collings acoustics, but I told them, “If you’re gonna make me a guitar, make me something that’s more Gretsch-like and put some TV Jones pickups in it, a Bigsby, and flatwound strings.” They did, and it’s great. Trussart made me a couple cool things. I also love new Epiphones, old Epiphones, Gibsons, Fenders, Gretsches…
You’re sort of like G.E. Smith when he was on “Saturday Night Live.” It was always fun to watch as they went to commercial because he jammed on some cool old guitars and amps…
I loved him for that. G.E. is a great guy and one of the biggest Tele fans I know. He’s another one – plug straight into the amp, gets a great sound! So yes, it was fun to watch him. It was like, “What’s he going to play next?”
A lot of my friends had great TV gigs, but G.E. was the first to say, “I’m gonna pull out my Flying V and do an Albert King thing.” And he hit me as much as anyone with the “right guitar for the song” thing.
Your most recent album is 13 Live, with the Black Italians. What’s the story behind that band?
Well, in 1992, my friend Andy Justin opened a club in New York called Downtime, and upstairs there were rehearsal studios; musicians would come down to the bar after they rehearsed. It was a place to unwind – a music bar built by musicians for musicians. Andy told me, “I want you to play here once a week, in residence,” so I called people I was working with at the time – Danny Louis was one of my favorite people and one of the greatest musicians I know, so I called him first. Catherine Russell is the best singer I know – so great. Mike Merritt and James Wormworth have been with me since Mike called me to play with Johnnie Johnson almost 30 years ago, and Worm was the drummer. These guys are each part of a jazz legacy – Mike’s father is Jymie Merritt, who played in Art Blakely and the Jazz Messengers, and James Wormworth’s father, Jimmy, played with Coltrane and jazz vocal trio Lambert, Hendrix, and Ross… I’ve known Felix Cabrera since 1972, when he came over from Cuba as a refugee in the ’60s. He brings this Cuban thing to harp playing, this whole energy that’s just so essential. We’ve been partners for almost 40 years. I met the percussionist, Fred Walcott, through David Johanssen when he was playing as Buster Poindexter. And Mike Jacobson, who lives in New Orleans, is our other percussionist, I met him through Fred.
Anyway, after we started playing, the band got bigger and bigger, which was very cool because if someone couldn’t make it, there was always someone covering every instrument… sometimes, there’d be four guitar players at the same time, but that was the concept. And we never practiced – just played whatever came off the top of my head or what I had worked out that day. It was pretty simple music, nothing really involved. And it was never intended to do anything beyond playing there in the bar – it was a place for people to cut loose. It was right around the corner from Madison Square Garden, so someone like Mick Fleetwood would come over if he was playing – whoever was around would sit in.
Is 13 Live its only recorded effort?
Yes, and the idea for the album started when I was working with John Sebastian in a duo we call Johnny and Jimmy. We were in Chicago, playing the City Winery, when Jerry Del Giudice, from Blind Pig Records, came to see me; I had produced Bill Perry and Muddy Waters’ son, Big Bill Morganfield, for him, along with other stuff through the years. He said, “Somebody told me about this legendary band from New York City from 20 years ago – the Black Italians. Why don’t you make a record?” And I said, “Well… I guess.” He sort of forced me into it (laughs) – I had no such plans! And that’s what we did, just got together and played. It represents a lot of influences, kind of scattered and eclectic, but I think it has a sound, and that’s the important thing. And we recorded it at Levon Helm’s Barn, because it’s partly a tribute to him and because the place has a great vibe. His passing was a great loss, and I was lucky to have spent time with him.
So, the band, scattered far and wide after 20 years, converged from all over?
Yes, and before we started recording, we had one night of rehearsal, since we hadn’t played in while! So, on a Friday night we rehearsed and invited some folks to listen, then we recorded 35 songs over two nights, and picked the songs that worked best. Being in the Barn really had a bittersweet quality, and I knew I had to sing something special for Levon. So, when I got on the plane to go to New York, I wrote some lyrics, then in the hotel figured out chords. “Song for Levon” is personal thing, people might not even understand what I’m saying, but I had to do it for Levon’s wife, Sandy, and everyone because the project was connected to keeping things going there at the Barn. Levon is an American institution.
Vivino’s Fender-heavy amp stall includes this ’53 Deluxe (top left) that has been part of his sound for years, two ’61 Princetons, a Twin from ’64, and a ’64 Pro-Reverb. Photos by Barre Duryea.
This article originally appeared in VG’s July 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Tech 21 Boost Pedals
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Contact: www.tech21nyc.com
Tech 21’s new Boost Series of fuzz, overdrive, and distortion pedals offers a compelling concept – premium effects with the ability to deliver a healthy output kick for solos or that big riff to bring it all home.
The Boost Fuzz is Tech 21’s take on the classic germanium fuzztone boxes of the late ’60s. Despite being the holy grail to fuzz connoisseurs, those pedals typically were rife with temperamental components and unpredictable changes in tone. The pedal is equipped with controls for Level, Tone, Drive, Sag, and Boost; Sag controls dynamic response to the user’s playing style. Its Bypass and Boost switches engage a clean volume leap capable of 21 db.
The Boost Distortion is engineered to give players the hot-rodded sound of an ’80s stack. However, its distortion has a greater dynamic range and cleans up well. This box also comes with Level, Tone, Drive, Sag, and Boost; the Sag knob acting much like it does with the Fuzz, allowing the user to tailor the dynamics of the pedal. The Distortion also comes with Bypass and Boost switches; the Boost function is completely post-distortion, meaning it only adds volume, not extra crunch.
The Boost Overdrive is based on the bluesy tones achieved from ’70s overdrive pedals, while building upon those classics by providing more dynamic response and the ability to clean up the pedal, much like one could with a tube amp. The Overdrive has Level, Tone, Drive, Sparkle, and Boost knobs. The Sparkle control introduces upper harmonics to the tone of the pedal. The Boost, like that on the Distortion, is also post-overdrive and provides a purely clean boost.
The Bass Boost Fuzz is a tribute to the fuzzed-out bass tones of the ’60s, as used by Jack Bruce, Paul McCartney, John Entwistle, and underrated San Franciscans like Jack Casady and Phil Lesh. Unfortunately for bass players of the past, most (if not all) fuzz pedals were designed for the frequency range of guitars, cutting out much low-end. Tech 21 has remedied this situation for bass players looking for that classic fuzz sound by expanding the frequency range. The Bass Boost Fuzz has five control knobs – Level, Tone, Drive, +Clean, and Boost. The +Clean control determines the amount of clean signal mixed with the fuzz signal, allowing players to add more definition and complexity to their sound.
Using a Hamer Explorer and Fender Precision Bass into a Fender Twin and a Line 6 modeling amp, the Boost Fuzz attained the great lead sound of germanium fuzzes, but with enough girth to carry thick riffs and chords. Each control had great range, with the Sag knob being particularly versatile. It was quite capable of changing the character of the fuzz, bringing it from the classic late-’60s sound to a more-cutting fuzz, reminiscent of ’90s grunge.
The Boost Distortion may be the most impressive of the line. While similar to other modern distortion pedals in terms of features, the Boost Distortion does a great job delivering a tone very similar to the punchy, hot, stack sound of the ’80s. Its Sag control enables the user to traverse the spectrum of the Boost Distortion’s character, from an almost bluesy, loose tone to a hard tone that could punch a hole in the wall.
The Boost Overdrive is also deserving of its name. Many modern overdrives are sold as distortion pedals, but the Boost Overdrive sticks to appropriate territory, pumping out exactly what one would want from an overdrive – gritty, rough-yet-clear rhythm tone with a singing, bluesy lead sound. The Sparkle control is a nice addition to this workhorse, introducing a tonal complexity that adds depth and air to the sound.
We expected the Bass Boost Fuzz to be similar to its guitar-oriented cousin, but it was much different. On lower settings, it dished out modern, almost robot-like fuzz, turning the round tone of a bass into something entirely different and futuristic. Cranking the Drive control added girth and gave the overall tone some authority. Bass players will love the control it offers, particularly those playing in bands; the ability to mix clean signal with the fuzz signal is almost like playing two basses at the same time.
This article originally appeared in VG December 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Recharging their batteries, staving off writer’s block, getting back to their roots – countless musicians have an album of covers in their catalogs. Hardly controversial, unless it’s Bob Dylan. When he released 1970’s Self Portrait, fans and especially critics concentrated more on why he made the move, instead of how well he pulled it off.
With hindsight, these 35 outtakes and alternate versions from the Portrait and (three months later) New Morning sessions are more cohesive than the former, more illuminating than the latter. On many, David Bromberg (acoustic guitar) and Al Kooper (piano) are Dylan’s only accompanists, providing texture, structure, ornamentation, and, in Bromberg’s case, some expertly flatpicked bluegrass. In larger ensembles, electric lead is handled by Ron Cornelius, Robbie Robertson, and George Harrison. Throughout, Dylan earns his traditional music cred.
Sony’s only misstep was tapping Greil Marcus to write the notes. His masturbatory, conjecture-over-substance exercise shows just how ignorant a “Dylanologist” can be (for example, in his two-page dissection of “Little Sadie,” he seems utterly unaware of the “murder ballad” subgenre of folk music). As if to inject some sense, a second set of notes is included (by Michael Simmons), but unfortunately nary a quote from Bromberg or Kooper, the two people most qualified to shed light on this chapter, is to be found.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s December. ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Mooer Audio’s Noise Killer eliminates unwanted noise and feedback from a guitar player’s signal chain without impacting sustain, attack, or shortening notes. It has two working modes for hard or soft effect of noise threshold (which can be adjusted from -70db to +10db). It has a metal housing in a small size. Learn more at www.danabgoods.com.
Watson in 2005. Photo: Tim Mosenfelder/Getty Images/
Over a career spanning 52 years, the passage of time only enhanced Doc Watson’s stature. His virtuosity and musical range, merged with an abiding sense of tradition, entertained, amazed, and moved generations of fans, players, and non-players. It ended with his death May 29 at age 89 at a hospital in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. A month earlier, he’d played Merlefest, named for his only son and former second guitarist Merle, who died in a 1985 tractor mishap.
Born in Stony Fork, in North Carolina’s mountainous Wautuga County, Arthel Lane Watson wasn’t a year old when an eye infection blinded him. Music came to him through his mother’s singing, hymns heard at church, and old tunes played by other local musicians. He absorbed records by various artists, among them Jimmie Rodgers, the Carter Family, and the Delmore Brothers. Radio brought in the Grand Ole Opry. He played on harmonica and fretless banjo before attending the Morehead School for the Blind in Raleigh. There, he learned his first guitar chords. His dad helped him acquire a $12 Stella. He’d trade up several times.
Set to play on a local radio broadcast in 1941, the announcer felt Arthel an awkward name. A woman in the crowd yelled out “Call him Doc!” and it stuck. His friendship with local fiddler Gaither Carlton led to him marry Carlton’s daughter, Rosa Lee, in 1947. Their son, Eddy Merle, named for Doc’s favorite country stars (Eddy Arnold and guitarist Merle Travis) arrived in 1949, daughter Nancy Ellen two years later. With money tight, he tuned pianos and played for tips in the streets of nearby Boone, North Carolina.
Watson’s guitar heroes were diverse. One was obscure Texas electric-guitarist Smitty Smith, who played the melodic break on Ernest Tubb’s 1941 hit “Walking the Floor Over You.” Others included Travis, Chet Atkins, and Nashville session ace Grady Martin. He played a Martin D-18 when he joined Jack Williams and the Country Gentlemen, a local bar band, in 1953. Soon, he’d switched to a Gibson Les Paul goldtop. Since they lacked a fiddler, he began flatpicking fiddle tunes. It became his calling card. His Travis/Atkins fingerstyle skills came in handy when the band played rockabilly.
He had the goldtop in 1960. With the Folk Revival in full swing, New York folklorist-musician Ralph Rinzler arrived to record traditional singer-banjoist Clarence Ashley and others including Doc, who wanted to play electric guitar. Rinzler convinced him to borrow an acoustic. Impressed by his range, he felt Watson could succeed as a folk artist, but knew traditional trumped contemporary with folkies of that day. Counseling Watson to stress traditional, Rinzler added that after establishing himself, he could include any music he wanted.
That’s precisely how it played out. He re-learned old numbers and early-’60s engagements in New York City led to a 1963 Newport Folk Festival appearance. A year later, Vanguard Records signed him. He began adding country and folk tunes on his 1966 album, Southbound, and around that same time Flatt and Scruggs enhanced his bluegrass appeal by featuring him on their Strictly Instrumental album. On Doc Watson in Nashville (1968), that town’s famed A-team of session musicians, including Grady Martin, accompanied him. Merle, who’d began playing guitar in ’64, was touring with his dad by the late ’60s.
The acclaimed, Grammy-winning 1972 album, Will The Circle Be Unbroken , featured Watson, Scruggs, Jimmy Martin, Roy Acuff, Merle Travis, and Maybelle Carter teamed with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. The album’s success exposed him to a younger audience, many of them rock fans. Eventually, he won eight of his own Grammys, including a Lifetime Achievement Award.
Jack Lawrence joined Watson in ’83, when Merle, anxious to focus on construction work, decided to scale back much of his touring with his father. Lawrence, though steeped in bluegrass, had recently worked in a rock band and only jammed with Doc a couple times backstage. He never forgot his first concert in Illinois, working with Watson and bassist T. Michael Coleman. “I played as many solos as he did,” Lawrence recalls. “He gave me every other solo. He’d play one, and the next time around, it was my turn. That was very gracious for him to share the stage like that – especially with someone he had never worked with.
“At festivals, everybody would want to jam with him. I’d say, or Michael would say, ‘Sam Bush is standin’ over here.’ Or Tim O’ Brien or Mike Auldridge or Jerry Douglas. And he’d say. ‘Well, ask ’em if they want to play!’ We’d get onstage and he would direct everything.
“If I carry anything away from my whole experience with Doc, it’s that you can still be the center of attention but still spread the music to everybody around you and give them a little spotlight.”
Watson later gave Lawrence the 1945 D-18 he’d bought in New York in ’63, played onstage and on all his records before embracing Gallagher guitars in ’68. Lawrence remembers how Watson influenced his playing. When he joined, he’d been caught up in playing hot licks. That began to change.
“He taught me to settle down. He never said anything, but after awhile, I thought, ‘I don’t have to play everything I know on every solo.’”
Reflecting on his mentor’s contributions, Lawrence says, “His legacy is certainly going to be the introduction of flatpicked guitar (soloing) to bluegrass, though Doc never considered himself a bluegrass artist. I would consider him to be one of the first… Americana artists. He took a little bit from every kind of American music form and made it his own, mixed it all up and it came out as Doc Watson music.
“But I also know the legacy he would rather be remembered for was just being a good ol’ boy from down there in Deep Gap, who made a living for his family. I think he would treasure that above all.”
This article originally appeared in VG September 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
There are rock reunions, and then there are rock reunions. Some shine (the Zombies, the Rascals), others tarnish (Police, the post-Morrison, Densmore-less Doors). But blink and you might have missed one of the most important reunions, at least in terms of roots rock – that of Barrence Whitfield and the Savages.
With guitarist Peter Greenberg and bassist Phil Lenker, both formerly of Boston garage band the Lyres, Whitfield and the Savages released their self-titled debut in ’84. The album was a wild mix of rockabilly and old-school R&B that suited leather-lunged Whitfield’s Little Richardesque vocals.
When Whitfield introduced an entirely revamped Savages with 1987’s Ow!Ow! Ow!, some hardcore followers felt he’d sold out – more testament to the rawness of the original band than assessment of the new combo, featuring guitarist Milton Reder. Whitfield put the Savages on hold for most of the ’90s and recorded two excellent Americana albums with singer/songwriter Tom Russell.
From the borderline punk of opener “The Corner Man,” co-written by Greenberg, who doubles as producer (with Lenker also returning), this verily screams, “The Savages are back!” Greenberg’s aggressive guitar is equal parts blues and pre-psychedelic garage – like Whitfield and his battleship of a quartet, truly savage.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s December. ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Absara Audio, parent company of effects maker Pigtronix, has acquired the Supro trademark pertaining to amplifiers and guitars. To accommodate this expansion, Absara has constructed a new production facility in Port Jefferson Station, New York, and says that in April it will begin shipping a line of U.S.-made, vintage-inspired Supro tube amps. The rights to the Supro brand were acquired from Bruce Zinky, who has been retained by the company as design engineer, and has collaborated with David Koltai on the modern incarnation of the Supro amp.
Supro’s origins can be traced to the early 1930s, when the National Resophonic and Dobro companies merged to form a manufacturing entity called Valco.
“We are humbled by the opportunity to re-imagine the Supro product line in a way that honors its rich history and will push these classic designs to the forefront of the modern tube amplifier industry,” said Pigtronix co-founder Brian Bethke.
The reissued Supro amps will be unveiled at the Winter NAMM Show in January. For more information, visit www.Suprousa.com.
The 1964 Fender Stratocaster that Bob Dylan played at The Newport Folk Festival in July of 1965 sold today at Christie’s Auction in New York for $800,000, plus buyers’ premium of $165,000, reaching a new record for the price of a guitar sold at auction.
Mooer Audio’s Noise Killer eliminates unwanted noise and feedback from a guitar player’s signal chain without impacting sustain, attack, or shortening notes. It has two working modes for hard or soft effect of noise threshold (which can be adjusted from -70db to +10db). It has a metal housing in a small size. Learn more at www.danabgoods.com.
Absara Audio, parent company of effects maker Pigtronix, has acquired the Supro trademark pertaining to amplifiers and guitars. To accommodate this expansion, Absara has constructed a new production facility in Port Jefferson Station, New York, and says that in April it will begin shipping a line of U.S.-made, vintage-inspired Supro tube amps. The rights to the Supro brand were acquired from Bruce Zinky, who has been retained by the company as design engineer, and has collaborated with David Koltai on the modern incarnation of the Supro amp.