BC Rich Guitars’ NJ Retro Warlock, Mockingbird, and Bich have a maple neck-through design with mahogany wings. Their 24 5/8″-scale neck has a modern C shape, 12″-radius rosewood fretboard, jumbo frets, and pearl inlays. The neck has a 43mm graphite nut, dual-action truss rod, and three-per-side headstock with trinity logo and die-cast tuning keys. Each is fitted with BCR1983 Classic Reissue humbuckers, a Classic Quad bridge, separate Volume controls, master Tone, and a three-way toggle.
The latest record from Marty Stuart, Ghost Train: The Studio B Sessions, is a tour de force of country music styles that celebrates the past while pushing firmly into the future. And that’s what renaissance man Stuart was aiming for…
“Well, traditional country music is what interests me the most,” he said. “Sometimes, I miss the weight in my checkbook from lack of airplay, but that’s all I miss. I’ve got enough years behind me to know the only thing that lasts is what you do from your heart. It’s kind of become a cultural mission, because for years I’ve tried to preserve and re-stage the photos and memorabilia. Then one day I woke up and the music was slipping away. I thought we needed to do our part to hang on to it, but write a new chapter. Not a retro thing – a new chapter. I think Ghost Train may have moved it in that direction.”
Recorded in RCA’s legendary Studio B, in Nashville, where plenty of country hits were recorded, Stuart says it was a different experience. “It’s owned and controlled by Belmont University. So we had students on one side of the glass watching us record while learning. Then, friends and neighbors on the other side. So it was kind of strange and wonderful to have all that going on in a time that’s usually private. It was alright because it all kind of became a part of the atmosphere.”
Keeping Stuart’s music fresh, both live and on record, is his band, the Fabulous Superlatives. Guitarist Kenny Vaughan (VG, Dec. ’06) is the perfect foil for Stuart. Harry Stinson on drums and Paul Martin on bass are as skilled at the kind of music Stuart is making as any musicians on the planet. “We’ve been together almost a decade now, which is almost 50 years in Hillbilly time. I’ve been in bands since I was nine years old and absolutely, this is the band of a lifetime. My legacy band, as I see it. It’s the first and only band I’ve ever had where I save every recording, every photograph, every document, because it’s going to be studied when it’s all done. It’s one of those divinely ordered bands. They’re not only master musicians, they’re master people.”
Fans of Stuart and the band can get a weekly fix by tuning into his RFD-TV show, which is an amazing display of musical talent seldom seen on any kind of television these days. In the space of 30 minutes, he squeezes in performances by the Superlatives, songs by guests who are often royalty in country music, a song from his wife, Connie Smith, and a musical interlude from Leroy Troy. In-between are heavy doses of Stuart’s humor and good-natured personality. The show is reminiscent of the program Porter Wagoner served up in the late ’60s and early ’70s.
The show is just one part of his mission to keep the public exposed to traditional country music, ensuring it sees and hears more than the pop/country that dominates the radio. He also has a program on XM/Sirius radio celebrating the same thing. And he’s a fine photographer who has compiled several decades of photos featuring country artists into a book, along with DVDs of the show and some music that can’t be purchased in stores.
The TV show also was the catalyst for the only change in equipment he’s made in many years. “My guitars have pretty much stayed the same, but with amps I’ve been all over the place. For the show, someone suggested Kenny and I go to a silverface Fender Princeton. I did, and I add a little boost on top, and that’s it. We use them on the show, and that’s all I used on the record. I’ve found the true tone of my guitar in that Princeton. It’s the way to go for what I’m up to. It rings like a bell and in the control room, it’s tight and bigger than the world. I’ll use it on gigs, too, unless the room is too big. Then I’ll go back to a couple of Fender Twins.”
Stuart is an amazing guitarist and mandolinist, playing with an ease that reflects his years at his craft. He doesn’t practice much, but says for inspiration he still goes back to the guys he’s always appreciated. “Luther Perkins still makes me smile. Ralph Mooney always makes me go away shaking my head wondering how he was doing what he was doing. I love the quirkiness of Roy Nichols. And I love the Mississippi man, Muddy Waters. He can do more damage with one note than most guys can do with an entire fretboard. I do love to watch young guys come along, but the old masters are still the ones.”
As for the future, Stuart says it happens as it happens, like Ghost Train, which actually took about six years to put together. “It all starts with a song, and this one began with “Hangman,” the song I wrote with John (Cash). I thought ‘This could be the start of something deep, but it’s gonna take time.’ I started living and writing songs, re-writing them, and one day there were that many that held together. I have book upon book, album titles, album concepts that came and went. But I entertained them all. One day it all found its mark and became Ghost Train.”
His current situation nicely suits a man involved in so much. “I’ve always thought Andy Warhol had the right idea where he had the whole factory going. At the beginning of the decade, I turned my office into the fun factory. It starts with the band and the music, and it has been amazing. Photographs, books, movie scores, saving buildings… it’s the most wonderful thing to be able to say the sky’s the limit. I move with my heart but it all works under one roof now, and that’s a wonderful thing.”
This article originally appeared in VG January 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
John Entwistle
Ode to the Ox 1944-2002
By Ward Meeker
Pop music lovers – especially those with an ear tuned to gear and how it’s used – know that John Entwistle ranks as one of the most influential bassists in the history of rock and roll. Some would argue there is none higher.
Before Entwistle, the role of the bassist was nebulous; the average listener didn’t pay much mind to bass notes or their placement. But Entwistle changed that situation dramatically, developing not only a unique style and establishing the stereotype of the rock-solid, unmoving bassist, but also evolving a tapping multi-hand approach to bass playing.
A musically curious young man, John Alex Entwistle was born in Chiswick, London, in 1944, and as a schoolboy, learned to play piano and French Horn (which he would use throughout his time in the Who). Yet another member of his generation swept up in the skiffle revival of the 1950s, Entwistle was smart enough to see that guitar players in his hometown were a dime a dozen. But few of them were willing to take on the newfangled electric bass guitar, not only because the role was deemed secondary, but also because in England at the time, decent-quality basses were nearly impossible to come by.
Despite being just 14 years old, Entwistle quickly took on double duty as bass player and bass builder, not bothering to learn guitar first.
One day, as he strode down the street, homemade bass under his arm, he was approached by a neighborhood chap named Roger Daltrey, who invited him to join a band. Guitarist Pete Townshend joined soon thereafter, then drummer Keith Moon, and the band evolved from The Detours to The High Numbers and finally The Who, and they started recording in 1964.
From early on, The Who, being a single-guitar band, relied heavily on Entwistle to keep the music rolling. For many reasons (like keeping up with Townshend’s taste for 100-watt amp stacks) he tended to play extremely loud and complex parts to compensate for the absence of a rhythm guitar. The Who was unique in that way: Townshend’s guitar was often the base that Moon and Entwistle would “solo” over.
And amid the pandemonium that was a Who concert – Townshend’s windmilling and power-posing, Moon’s run-amock drumming style, and Daltrey’s frontman posturing – Entwistle developed a trademark standstill style that contrasted visually as he laid down complex fills and countermelodies that fit perfectly.
Entwistle also wrote many noteworthy Who songs. Where Townshend proved to be the cynic, the rebel, the conceptualist, Entwistle’s bizarre, often dark sense of humor lent further contrast. Two cases in point are “Boris the Spider,” from the band’s second album (A Quick One) and “My Wife,” from Who’s Next.
From 1971 to 1973, Entwistle, discouraged by certain bandmates’ falling victim to the trappings of rock stardom, released three solo albums and toured with his band, Ox. Though his solo career never garnered much interest in the U.S., it helped him focus on music despite the fact that the Who was on shakey ground; Townshend had suffered a nervous breakdown early in the decade, Daltrey pursued acting and a solo career, and Moon moved into the party fast lane that would claim his life in 1978.
Despite a uniform feeling that the band wouldn’t really exist after’s Moon’s passing, the Who toured in support of Who Are You, which was released just a few months before the drummer’s death. The wind, however, was knocked out of the band’s sails early in the tour, when 11 fans were trampled to death before a concert in Cincinnati in December, 1979.
The Who kicked out two albums in the early ’80s (1981’s Face Dances and 1982’s It’s Hard). Entwistle, meanwhile, recorded another solo album, Too Late The Hero, which reached number 71 on the U.S. album charts.
The band was to have retired following a farewell tour in 1982, but demand for a reunion led to another tour in ’89.
In the mid ’90s, Entwistle assembled the John Entwistle Band, with producer Steve Luongo on drums, guitarist Godfrey Townsend, and keyboardist Gordon Cotton.
In late June ’02, The Who had regrouped and was set to begin a tour of North America, when Entwistle died on June 27.
By all accounts, Entwistle’s personality was that of one of the most grounded, humble rock superstars ever. As a player, he respected peers like Paul McCartney and Jack Bruce (though he wouldn’t necessarily say he liked their tone), though his own style shared little with either of them. But like them, it defined itself.
Goodbye, John Alec Entwistle
We Hardly Knew Ya
By Steve Patt and Rick Pascual
“Kid, can ya lend me a hand here?” emanated from a hairy individual in a British accent so thick I could barely understand it’s meaning.
Without thinking twice, I grabbed a guitar case from the gent and followed him down the long hallway. This was my first encounter with John “The Ox” Entwistle, in grungy downtown Baltimore, and I got used to helping him over the years.
In the old days, access to bands was a lot easier, and being a 16-year-old Who fan, I had hoped to meet the group by scoping out their hotel. I got more than I bargained for, because the group’s head roadie, a hobbit-like sandy-haired Bob Pridden, pressed me into service, and I was a fixture for the tour.
The Who, all included, were fun to be around, and got along like family. But John was the avuncular older brother to me, giving me tips on wine, women, and (of course) song – though not necessarily in that order. I graduated from the Who to Procol Harum, and eventually left roadying to be a musician with the Chambers Brothers, but never forgot the kindness of Peter, Keith, Roger, and John… who urged me to “forget about the music life, kid – it’s all flash. Go back to school!” Which, of course, I ignored at the time.
John was a scholar – very serious about his music – but had an easy perspective on the Who and its role in the world of popular music.
The group took the stage June 29 in Los Angeles, without its linchpin, John Entwistle. “John would have wanted us to go on,” Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey, the remaining original bandmates issued in a statement after John’s untimely death at 57, and I couldn’t agree more. The extended family of Peter, Roger, and crew will be playing their hearts out in honor of John Alec Entwistle and his legacy, and all of us music lovers will be there in spirit. – Steve Patt
As you entered the original Manny’s Music on 48th Street in New York City, you walked straight ahead to the stairs that led you down to the main selling floor. That’s where the guitars were, behind sliding locked glass doors above your head. Amplifiers of all the most soughtafter brands formed a small island in the center. The yellow Danelectro that everyone used to test amps was sitting in its usual spot on top of a Standel (or maybe Fender) amp.
I bought my first Precision Bass at Manny’s on August 7, 1968. I still play it to this day. John Entwistle and Pete Townshend entered the store right behind me and my brother, Frankee Lee.
The two guitar players of the Who walked passed us and we acted as cool as we could, but I was delirious. I really was a fan, and that summer I was in love with The Who Sell Out LP.
Entwistle also came to buy a Precision Bass. Henry, Manny’s sales guy, called upstairs to stock and told them to bring down two Fender Precision Basses in sunburst. Henry turned to me and asked if I was buying the case as well figuring that perhaps I could only afford the bass. He didn’t know that I had $225 burning a hole in my pocket. I’d accumulated this money during a summer job at my mother’s office, an aircraft parts distributor. She was my boss that summer and told me if I wanted a really good bass, I’d have to buy it myself. She gave me the job so I could earn it. I really wanted a Precision Bass.
When they finally brought the basses down, Mr. Entwistle opened one of the cases and wearily brushed at the strings as it laid in its orange-lined case. I took the other out and caressed and stroked it like the new lover it was about to become.
I turned to Entwistle who was standing a foot or two away talking to Henry and asked if these weren’t the greatest basses we were buying and he simply said, “The best.” He was so right.
Later that night The Who played the Shaefer Festival in Central Park’s Wollman Rink where I caught Townshend’s pickup cover from his completely smashed Gibson SG. Entwistle did not play the bass that he had bought that evening and I often wondered if he ever did play it or perhaps he made a lamp out of it at a later date.
He was the best rock bass player period. He changed the role and sound of the electric bass like Hendrix changed the sound of the electric guitar. I don’t think he was unappreciated. His fans, myself one for 37 years, are many and varied and devoted. The greatest pleasure in going to see him play was watching him stand so casually still and fly so high into the heavens simultaneously.
He knew he astonished other bass players, after all he was our Jeff Beck. We worshipped and applauded and let it be known that he was the hero of another subspecies of Who fanatics. Anyone who was really listening when they first heard the thunderous solos he blasts off in “My Generation” knew from that day forward the bass was coming out of the shadows. Live at Leeds. Left channel. Case Closed. – Rick Pascual
The Ox’s Axes
As The Who gained prominence, John Entwistle’s tastes developed and he made the de rigeur progression through various makes and models of bass guitars. By the mid ’70s he’d developed a liking for the Fender bass feel, but favored the low-end tone of Gibson’s Thunderbird through Hi-Watt and Sunn amps. Ever one to resolve a quandry, he had Fender Precision necks fitted to Thunderbird bodies – creating what he called his “Fenderbirds.”
By the late ’70s he had taken to custom-made (and often elaborate) Alembic basses. Through two decades he was often seen in concert and video playing an Alembic with an Explorer-shaped body. By the late ’90s, though, he was playing Status basses with all-graphite necks.
But his personal collection of guitars consisted mostly of six-strings, including some fantastic rarities, like a matched set of 1958 Gibsons – a Flying V and an Explorer – a late-’60s Fender Stratocaster in Paisley Red, and a double-cutaway Gretsch White Penguin made for Mary Ford, and believed to be the only one of its kind. Among the basses in the collection were several early-’50s Fender Precisions, Ampeg Horizontal basses, including a an ASB-1 “Devil Bass,” and a Rickenbacker 4005L “lightshow” bass.
Entwistle collected more than “just guitars.” An avid deep-sea fisherman, he had nearly 300 fish mounted and hanging in his bar at home, to go with a guitar collection that numbered well over 200. He also had a fondness, at varying times, for Star Trek episodes on videotape, brass instruments, and antique synthesizers. He even tried his hand at breeding purebred chickens. He was also an avid drawer, and on a few occasions, toured with his artwork.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2002 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Riff rockers Crobot have been promoting their first album, Something Supernatural, with a live show offering full-bombast rock, contagious funk, and science fiction. The band’s success is owed in part to the sonic interludes of guitarist Chris Bishop, who has discovered the missing link between crashing power chords, funky riffs, and hallucinogenic guitar effects,
Your sound has hints of Clutch and Queens Of The Stone Age. How did you discover your own “voice?”
It wasn’t one of those things we had to develop much. We just started jamming. When the tap tempo broke on my Vox delay pedal, I started trying to manipulate delay times with my foot while we were playing, and it started making these crazy sounds. Sometimes, I’d accidently smack the wrong knob, and I’d use the sound to ramp songs and parts into each other. Once I started doing that, I knew I wanted to utilize low-octave effects and abrasive delay. “Legend Of The Spaceborne Killer,” was the first song where we said, “That’s our sound.”
Your playing has a Southern funkiness.
Skynyrd. I’m from Tennessee, and I remember playing guitar with my dad and his cousins. They would literally sit around and drink beer and play every Lynyrd Skynyrd song all night. So, I would learn all these songs. Having that funkiness is important. Really, I’m just trying to fill frequencies within the band. One of my favorite guitar players is Audley Freed, and his playing is similar to mine because I remember learning Cry of Love songs when I was 10 or 11. It really stuck with me. Even with all the effects, you still get an organic guitar tone, and that’s important, especially if you want a raw feel. If you want to sound like Nickelback, you use a big wall of sound. That’s great, but I like people to hear the character in my playing. I’m somewhat of a sloppy player. I want people to be able to hear the string noise and not just hear a big wall of distortion.
Which amp are you using?
I’ve played Orange amps for years. I use the Dual Terror and I have the Tiny Terror for a backup or to play a small room. If it’s a decent-size room where I can crank it up a little bit, I’ll use the Dual Terror. They’re both awesome, and it’s vital that I have that because the way I run the crazy delay stuff, I need a bit of head room so I’m not working with straight feedback. The Duals are pretty good for that. I don’t have to run it too hot, but I still have a good, solid tube sound.
What’s on your pedalboard?
I’ve got a Morley Bad Horsie Wah, which is one of the first they ever made. I use it more as a filter effect. I also have a Way Huge Swollen Pickle and a Z-Vex Fuzz Factory. Then I have an Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and a POG 2. The Micro POG is set for one octave down, while the POG 2 I use strictly for my octave up. I stack them. That’s the holy grail of kick-you-in-your-face tone. When I want to get heavy and knock someone’s balls off, I put that Fuzz Factory on with that sub-octave from my POG.
I also have a Vox Time Machine Delay that was modded. That’s my abrasive, super-crazy delay. My other delay is an Ibanez Echo Shifter. It has a really big knob in the middle that you can use with your foot to move up and down. That’s how I get that whirly psychedelic sound.
What’s your main guitar?
For years, I’ve been playing a Fender ’72 FSR Telecaster. It’s sunburnt orange and has a Bare Knuckle P90. It’s got a standard Tele neck, so it feels nice. I recorded the whole album with it. I use the low-octave pedal on a lot of my single-note riffs to compensate for the Tele sound, which is very high-end and piercing, sometimes. The low octave gives a huge, unique sound. You still get the attack and the metallic-ness of the strings, but you get all that low-end. It’s really awesome.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s March 2015 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Mike Stern made his name playing with Blood, Sweat & Tears, Jaco Pastorius, Miles Davis, and others, carving a notable solo career while constantly seeking to broaden his musical voice. On his latest album, Eclectic, Stern pairs with rock guitarist Eric Johnson; the former engaging his rock side while the latter explores his jazz influences.
How did you and Eric Johnson get together?
We played on my Big Neighborhood record. I loved the experience, and for years we talked about doing more together. I went to a couple of his gigs, and we’d occasionally meet and say, “Hey, one of these days we gotta do something together.”
It went so well on Big Neighborhood that we fell into this tour a couple years later. It went well, and we said, “Let’s just record.” This was with Anton Fig on drums and Eric’s bass player, Chris Maresh. We did the record and it went very good. It was kind of live, but not overly worked.
The idea was to play what we were playing live and use the studio for touching up stuff, adding a rhythm part here or there, or fixing a couple things. We left in a lot of the rough edges, which is what I always try to do. I’ve always done records where everybody’s there, playing live. We were inspiring each other to do that. Eric sounds beautiful.
How did you choose songs?
We had a good feeling about playing together live, so when we went into the studio, we felt we could experiment. I brought some tunes, Eric brought some tunes, and we wrote a couple specifically for the project. I wrote lyrics for the first time on a record. It’s called “Roll With It,” and I recorded it as an instrumental first, then wrote words. Singer Malford Milligan was available and it worked out.
Your wife, guitarist Leni Stern, sings on the record, as well, and sounds great.
She’s awesome. She inspires me so much. She’s always trying different things and she’s very adventurous with music. She got a Malian instrument called a ngoni (banjo-guitar), and started playing it. Eric is a big fan of hers and said, “Let’s record some stuff.” We were very happy with it and they were all first takes.
What gear are you currently using?
I’m using a Fender ’65 reissue Twin Reverb, which I also used on the recording. I use an old Yamaha SPX90 for a chorus sound; I use it for one patch. I’m also using a signature guitar Yamaha made for me. It’s a copy of a copy of my original Telecaster, which I got from Danny Gatton. Before that it was Roy Buchanan’s. It was a great guitar that was stolen when somebody pulled a gun on me in Boston. I started using a spare made by Yamaha. They make really good guitars.
What’s next?
I’m going to do more recording. I don’t know when. I have a bunch of new tunes, so I’ll figure out something. I just want to keep it happening.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s March 2015 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
There’s ample revisiting in Seeds and Stems, Telecaster slinger Bill Kirchen’s third album for Proper America. Five of the 13 songs hearken back to his late-’60s/mid-’70s days with pioneer country-rockers Commander Cody and his Lost Planet Airmen. “Flip Flop,” “Womb To The Tomb” and “Rockabilly Funeral,” are longstanding favorites of his solo repertoire, as is Charlie Ryan’s 1955 “Hot Rod Lincoln,” the 1972 Cody hit he has transformed into a Tele tour-de-force.
Recorded live in the studio during a British tour in June, 2012, he used his touring band – bassist Maurice Cridlin and drummer Jack O’Dell – frequent collaborator Austin DeLone, and a few others. Wife Louise Kirchen did harmony vocals, and Jorma Kaukonen played guitar on “Talkin’ ’Bout Chicken.”
“It’s really songs that have remained in the live set,” he explains. “I enjoy doing them. People forever request them. I can’t tell you the number of times people have requested ‘Mama Hated Diesels.’ I was a little leery at first, cause I know some of them are available numerous other places, but some… weren’t to me, in versions I could get my hands on and have [with me] on gigs. Also, Malcolm Mills, the head guy at Proper Records, thought it would round out my three Proper albums nicely.”
Word To The Wise, Kirchen’s previous album, emphasized duets. Seeds, he adds, “…is the canon kind of record. Plus, you know, it was fun to hear how some (songs) changed over the years. I just went back and listened to Bobby Black playing on the original (Cody) ‘Semi-Truck.’ And man, Bobby was so great, but that’s what I wanted to do – record with the current band, the way we do ’em today.”
He did likewise with the autobiographical “Flip Flop,” referencing his youthful encounters with the Stanley Brothers, Buck Owens/Don Rich, and Professor Longhair. “I just picked three people. They weren’t necessarily the three most important people, but three who had made a big impression on me who are gone.” The rhythm was inspired by an LP of New Orleans R&B on Minit Records he bought as a teenager, what he calls “that New Orleans funky drum thing. Our drummer’s good at that and he doesn’t really get a chance to do it much.”
The original “Tell Me The Reason” was likewise rooted in tradition. “I wrote that with a bass player, Jeff Sarli, and my wife Louise. We were just thinking ‘straight country shuffle.’ Ray Price was the benchmark for that stuff. It doesn’t have a fiddle or a steel, but we certainly were trying to catch that groove.”
Kirchen explains how important it was to properly perform the Cody country tunes, which were witty yet respectful of country tradition. “The spirit of that band is kind of hard to put your finger on,” he explains. “We had a sense of humor, but it wasn’t too tongue-in-cheek. (Vocalist) Billy C (Farlow) and George (“Commander Cody” Frayne) tried to write a straight country weeper with ‘Seeds and Stems,’ and I tried to sing it like that. I hope I don’t smirk on that song. I’m not doing it with any sense of irony or condescension.”
It’s true “Hot Rod Lincoln” remains Cody’s best-known song. Kirchen made it his by adding new dimensions, including a raft of mini-tributes involving guitar riffs associated with stars like Johnny Cash, Duane Eddy, Jimi Hendrix, Marty Robbins, Johnny Rivers, and Roy Orbison. “I was adding the iconic intro to ‘Folsom Prison Blues,’ trying to crack up the band, I did ‘Semi trucks passed me by, then Johnny Cash passed me by,’ and played that lick. Then it was really off to the races.”
On the album, he played a pine Tele copy built for him by Rick Kelly, of Carmine Street Guitars in New York’s West Village. “He makes them out of 150-year-old pine,” Kirchen explained. “Mine was actually made from (indie film director) Jim Jarmusch’s loft. No truss road in the neck and it’s an extremely fat neck. Pickups are by Don Mare.”
The next album may be a departure. “I’m sort of leanin’ toward wantin’ to do a honky tonk record. I never did a pure honky tonk record – with Bobby (Black). That’s just one thing I’d love to do. I’d like to dig a little deeper into Swamp Pop, the Gulf Coast… There’s a million things to do. I just want to keep goin’.”
While carving his own musical niche, Kirchen maintains the spirit the Lost Planet Airmen created almost 45 years ago. “I still have a career in the music business and I’m thankful for that, he concludes. “And I’m still playing ‘Hot Rod Lincoln,’ and those songs are still requested. So I feel in that sense, the legacy’s been good to me.”
This article originally appeared in VG October 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The Mu-FX
Tru-Tron 3X
Price: $369.63
Contact: www.mu-fx.com.
Think funk. Think Bootsy Collins’ wacked-out Parliament Funkadelic Space Bass lines. Think Stevie Wonder’s wah’d Clavinet on his ’73 hit “Higher Ground.” Think Mu-Tron III.
The secret mastermind behind that sound was engineer Mike Beigel, creator of the original Musitronics Corporation Mu-Tron. When that pedal hit the market way back in 1972, it was the music world’s first envelope-controlled filter, establishing a whole new category of guitar effect that we didn’t know we had to have. Some called it an “auto wah.” But thanks to guys like Bootsy and Stevie, the Mu-Tron became known more fondly as “funk-in-a-box.”
By 1979/’80, the original Mu-Tron was history. Despite several clones, copycats, and other attempts to bring it back in the interceding years, nothing since has sounded quite like the real deal. Today, originals sell for as much as that bejeweled necklace your sweetheart’s been hinting about. If you can even find a vintage Mu-Tron, that is.
Happily, Beigel is back. With his new Mu-FX company he’s offering the Tru-Tron 3X, a modernized and miniaturized version of the famed Mu-Tron III. Attention, shoppers: This is not a reissue. The Tru-Tron does everything the Mu-Tron did – and a whole lot more.
Beigel says he used the original Mu-Tron circuitry “mojo” and paid careful attention to keeping the authentic sound and response of the vintage units. The Tru-Tron can be operated exactly like the original, if you wish. But it also has added features and extra range capability that provide more intense effects than a Mu-Tron.
To feel what Beigel is feeling, we plugged a ’56 Strat into a Tru-Tron (just the 58th one built) and then into a tweed Deluxe 5E3. With just a little effect dialed in, the Tru-Tron acts like a compressor, increasing the subtle “pop” to each note and enhancing the “tube sound” quality of even such a vaunted amp as a tweed Deluxe. But there’s more.
Via its Envelope Drive section, the Tru-Tron allows you to shape both the up-sweep of notes (which was what made the Mu-Tron famous) and now the down-sweep as well. And by choosing between the unit’s Hi and Low settings in the Filter Range section, you can select which range of the notes are peaked and tweaked. The possibilities, as they say, are near endless.
Fiddling with the settings, you can produce deep, warm tones and then swing the sound to aggressive and harsh. Indeed, the Tru-Tron offers much more gain than the original. The gain is “redlined” at 9 – like a car’s tachometer – but it goes to 11. This extra gain allows the aggressive player to drive the signal into almost constant overload. Nigel Tufnel would be happy.
A few technical notes: the Tru-Tron is smaller and more robust than a Mu-Tron, but it’s still big and will require extra space in a pedal board. Second, the Tru-Tron runs on a 12-volt power supply (which Beigel says aids tone quality), so it won’t hook into your typical 9-volt chain. Also, the 12-volt adaptor itself needs to be set either flat or upright; it doesn’t seem to work properly when laid over on its side.
Comparing a Mu-Tron and Tru-Tron side by side, the new pedal simply offers more. The sounds range from subtle to funkified to absolutely psychedelic. Jerry Garcia fans will be, well, grateful. In engineer-speak, the Tru-Tron makes more “mu,” as Beigel terms that special sound for which the envelope filter is famous. Dial in your sound, strike a 7#9 chord, and you can taste the funk – and it tastes good.
This article originally appeared in VG May 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
To get that all-important slap-back to emulate the Sun Studios sound, he eventually settled on a Japanese-built Roland Space Echo.
Setzer’s search for proper slapback was a long, winding road. He never bothered with an Ecco-Fonic; even back then, they were vintage units and a chore to keep functioning. He tinkered with Echoplexes, but was always frustrated.
“The Echoplex is just so damn unreliable,” he says. “I mean, if you give it a dirty look, it’ll say, ‘Screw it, I’m not working for you today.’ They’re just so timid. You’d bring it to a gig and it wouldn’t work.”
He also experimented with analog stompboxes, but the tone was lacking. The lesson from all his trials was that he realized, “I love the tape sound.”
“Then I discovered the Roland,” he says. “The Space Echoes are sturdy and they sound exactly the same as the Echoplex – and you actually have more of a choice in the echo, if you want it. The Roland has always done me well.”
Even now, when analog and digital delays are prolific, reliable, and inexpensive, Setzer tours the world with a pair of vintage Roland RE-301 units sitting proudly atop his blond piggyback Bassmans.
The Space Echo was the creation of Ikutaro Kakehashi. A self-taught watch repairman who progressed to radio servicing and eventually, electrical engineering. Through it all, he was fascinated by music; he even titled his autobiography, I Believe in Music.
Kakehashi took a classically Japanese approach to refining the tape-echo effect. He didn’t invent tape echo – no one knows for certain who did – perhaps Les Paul, perhaps Sam Philips at Sun, perhaps some other mad sonic scientist. But Kakehashi did take a delicate, untrustworthy technology and refined it into an effect that was reliable, robust, and roadworthy.
The roots of the Space Echo stretch back to Ace Electronic Industries, founded in 1960 by Kakehashi. In the late ’60s, the firm offered the solidstate Ace Tone EC-1 Echo Chamber, followed by various subsequent models. The EC-1 was basically similar to its famed predecessors, the Ecco-Fonic and Echoplex, albeit with more-modern controls – and simply more of them.
But like the Ecco-Fonic and other early echo units such as the English Watkins Copicat, the short-lived Ace Tone used just a basic, short 1/4″ tape loop. It didn’t even borrow the updated (and much more reliable) tape-cartridge concept of the Echoplex.
In 1972, Kakehashi launched the Roland Corporation, and in ’73 introduced the Roland Echo Chamber RE-100 and RE-200 (with added spring reverb). As with the Ace Tone, those first Rolands still used that short tape loop. And, the design of the controls and housing were dead-ringers.
Just a year later, Roland unveiled replacement models with a key revision; instead of the short tape loop, the new RE-101 and RE-201 Space Echoes had a free-running tape-transport system. The longer tape loop spooled freely within a chamber, with no reels of any kind, just a capstan drive protected by a plastic cover. The loose-spool/low-tension design resulted in less tape wear and minimized noise, wow, and flutter.
Compared with the bare-bones controls of an Ecco-Fonic or Echoplex, the control panel of an RE-201 looked like a jet-airplane cockpit. It had inputs for multiple sound sources – two mics and an instrument (each with independent level controls; the instrument input offering a standby on-off toggle switch), and a mixer or P.A.
Controls included Bass and Treble to EQ the effect output (not the dry signal), Repeat Rate (echo length), Intensity (number of echo repeats), and separate Volume knobs for echo and reverb that determine the mix level of dry and effect signal.
In the panel center, the Rolands had a trademark Mode Selector rotary knob with multiple presets. The RE-201 had 11 presets – four for Repeat, seven for Reverb Echo, plus a preset for spring-reverb only. This knob controlled the unit’s single record head, three separate playback heads, and variable-speed motor.
The Space Echo was an instant, runaway hit. Unlike any previous tape echo, it was reliable and sturdy enough to travel. Musicians like Setzer could dial in a simple slapback, whereas Bob Marley’s band used it for deep, throbbing echoes. Either way, the sound was warm, rich, and organic. Portishead and Radiohead would take Space Echoes to new extremes; by juggling the controls and tape speed as well as looping recordings, musicians could create pitch-shifting and oscillated effects.
The RE-101 and RE-201 were followed by the RE-150, which differed from the RE-101 in having two playback heads, different controls, and two outputs. The RE-301 Chorus Echo was added in 1977 with sound-on-sound loop recording and Roland’s famous analog chorus circuitry. The RE-501 and rackmount SRE-555 arrived in 1980 with new livery, chorus, and dual outputs.
Still, the RE-201 was such a popular workhorse it remained in production until 1990, even while these newer, updated models were introduced. In 2010, Roland’s guitar-effects subsidiary, Boss, created a digital-modeling version of the Space Echo called the RE-20.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s December 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
There are enough examples of married-couple acts imploding or having one spouse drag the other down that there probably ought to be a warning sign, if not a law. But the debut duo album by Anthony and Savana Lee Crawford as Sugarcane Jane is enough to give romantics hope.
Multi-instrumentalist/songwriter Anthony Crawford has worked with Neil Young, Steve Winwood, Dwight Yoakam, Steve Forbert, Sonny James, Vince Gill, Rosanne Cash, Eddie Rabbitt, and Rodney Crowell – often as background vocalist, which is ironic considering his prowess on electric and acoustic guitars, mandolin, fiddle, banjo, piano, bass, drums, lap steel, and harmonica, all amply demonstrated here.
The opening “Ballad Of Sugarcane Jane” is reminiscent in mood and texture of Steve Earle’s “Copperhead Road.” The next track, “The Game,” falls somewhere between the Georgia Satellites and Timbuk 3. And there might be a touch of Buddy and Julie Miller here and there. But by “Home Nights,” the couple’s vocal harmonies and entering/disappearing instruments merge into a singular identity.
With co-producer Buzz Cason penning one and co-writing six of the 10 tunes and Will Kimbrough guesting on banjo, this is one of the liveliest, most engaging Americana CDs you’re likely to hear this or any year.
This article originally appeared in VG’s September ’15 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
ScreaminFX has introduced two new pedals. The 1954 Fuzz is a transparent silicon fuzz that has an on/off buffer that enables players to use a wah in front without oscillation. The Betrayer is a mid-to-high-gain distortion with three gain choices – Dark, Vintage and Tight Metal and has a Bass, Mid, and High tone stack. Both are wired true-bypass and use high-grade audio components.