Chalk up another score for Italian innovation. Chicco Bellini and his company, Gurus Amps, are among the top dogs in the Italian gear market. They’ve also been gaining steam worldwide since the release of their most popular pedal, the Echosex 2, a few years ago.
The SexydriveMkII is a reissue of Gurus’ first pedal, the Sexydrive, with additions for further tweaking. It also conforms aesthetically to the Gurus look, with a Plexiglass faceplate that makes it feel premium and unique. On the front, the SexydriveMkII features a passive three-band EQ, the standard Volume and Gain controls, and a Balance control that gives you the ability to mix in your dry signal with the distorted one, essentially adding more shades to an already impressive palette of overdrive colors.
Like its predecessor, the SexydriveMkII seeks to emulate the crème de la crème of driven amp and overdrive tones, mixing influences from the Dumble Overdrive Special and Klon Centaur. A few hours with the pedal left the impression of an overdrive designed by a hi-fi specialist – meticulously sculpted in all frequencies, with enough compression to make it feel tight but not noticeably squashed. With the gain cranked up, it responded to changes in dynamics with a nice smooth bite. The Balance control adds an interesting functionality to the drive characteristic; mixing in more of the dry signal makes the pedal feel bouncier and clearer, while mixing in more distorted signal makes the overall sound smoother (high-end doesn’t peek out as much).
I found the sweet spot a few ticks above the 1:1 clean-to-distorted ratio, where it had enough dynamics and compression to sound like a classically smooth overdrive, but the added detail of a good clean tone lying right underneath.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
For many builders of solidbody guitars, the challenge is to improve on a handful of pioneering designs from the 1950s and ’60s. No one knows this better than Ernie Ball Music Man – in fact, the brand was co-founded by Leo Fender in 1974. Its latest Cutlass and StingRay solidbodies are attempts to improve classic archetypes in very different ways.
The Cutlass aims to perfect Leo’s 1954 Stratocaster without being a straight-up copy. The tester was an HSS rosewood-fingerboard version (though it’s also available in a more-traditional configuration with three single-coil pickups and a maple fingerboard). The HSS Cutlass is for guitarists who want more girth and firepower for solos and power chords. To eliminate noise, the ’60s-voiced single-coils in the neck and middle positions utilize their active Silent Circuit and buffered output and require a 9-volt battery in a rear chamber. Also look for a five-way pickup selector with 250k Volume and Tone controls.
Other specs include an alder body, maple neck (25.5″ scale, 10″ radius), 22 stainless-steel frets, and Music Man’s trademark 2+4 headstock (for a straight string-pull) with Schaller M6 locking tuners. The bridge is a Music Man Modern tremolo with bent-steel saddles; it’s a dive-only vibrato, but, because it has locking tuners, you probably won’t be able to make the Cutlass go out of tune no matter how hard you try.
The neck profile goes from a soft V (lower frets) to a C carve (upper frets) and the net result is fast and comfortable. Plugged into a tube combo and software-modeling SIMs, the Cutlass evoked old-school tones married to modern performance standards. There was plenty of single-coil quack, but the ’bucker in the bridge delivered additional lead cut and sustain. In fact, a humbucker fitted into an alder double-cutaway is a unique tone in its own right.
The StingRay’s most dramatic departure from the Cutlass is its African mahogany body instead of alder. Combined with passive humbuckers and 25.5″ scale, this plank seeks the elusive sweet spot between Gibson and Fender sensibilities.
Though the StingRay has the same 2+4 headstock and diving tremolo bridge as the Cutlass, its body is an offset shape and its pickguard configuration is different – where the Cutlass has a single sheet of tortoiseshell, this solidbody has tortoiseshell over the pickup cavity and a chrome section under the metal Volume and Tone knobs. Also, the three-way pickup toggle is located in the upper bout – another nod to Lester rather than Leo.
On the job, the StingRay will give you many of the fat humbucker tones players want, from rock and blues to jazz and country. And that neck is super-fast. The mahogany yields hairier tones than the Cutlass, but as mahogany is a denser material, expect the StingRay to weigh a few ounces more.
Both the Cutlass and StingRay give players modified Leo concepts. Cobble them together with the company’s obsessive attention to detail and playability, and you have a pair of superb, professional solidbodies. Right out of the box, each is impressive – though from Ernie Ball Music Man, we expect no less.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
EarthQuaker Devices is one of the most admired pedal builders today, thanks to their original designs that feature tweakable controls which allow players to easily dial in their own unique sounds. With more than forty pedal offerings, the EarthQuaker line covers everything from guitar synth to psychedelic reverb. Their latest – the Erupter – is a fuzz unit featuring an amazing amount of sophistication under its deceptive single Bias knob.
Removing the back from most fuzz units, especially vintage ones, reveals a handful of components. Not so with the Erupter. A look inside this small box provides all the proof needed that the chaps at EarthQuaker put a ton of thought into the circuit design crammed within.
First, there’s the small transformer on the board that mimics the output of a pickup, thus allowing the Erupter to be placed anywhere in your chain while remaining responsive to guitar volume changes. Also, unlike most fuzzes, the Erupter has a buffer to prevent loss on the high end. Other upgrades include a relay and soft-touch footswitch to engage true-bypass rather than the typical mechanical switch that is both prone to popping when engaged and not very reliable.
As mentioned, the Erupter has a single knob controlling the bias to the transistors, with a center detent for the optimum bias setting. Turn it to the right, and it becomes louder and perhaps stronger sounding. Go to the left, and the fuzz begins to spit as it becomes more gated. The tone of the fuzz is strong and forceful, and features a significant volume boost to help keep the effect from getting lost in the mix.
The EarthQuaker Erupter is a powerful fuzz device, with ingenious circuitry allowing, incredible signal-boosting capability, and variety of fuzz tones, all of which conspire to make it a great fuzz contender.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The Guild Bluesbird has a long history that began in the 1950s with Guild’s answer to the Gibson Les Paul –the M-75 Aristocrat, later renamed the M-75 Bluesbird. The guitar appeared in the Guild catalog for years before it was discontinued in the 1970s. It remained off the radar until the mid-1990s, when Guild reissued it with changes to the body shape and certain appointments. Then it disappeared again – until now.
The latest iteration of the Bluesbird is a mashup of features from past models. The body shape is nearly identical to the original M-75 Bluesbird. The traditional crown-like Guild Chesterfield headstock and logo are also employed, but that’s the end of its similarities to vintage models.
The new Bluesbird features a body measuring only 1.5″ at the edge, considerably thinner than older Bluesbirds. A beautifully carved flamed maple top sits on a chambered mahogany body, bound on top and boasting a striking Ice Tea Burst finish (Solid Black is the other color option). The polyurethane finish doesn’t feel thick or sticky.
Scale length is 24.75″, and the bound neck is a sleek vintage soft U shape that will please many guitarists (though those preferring thicker necks may balk). The rosewood fingerboard has medium-jumbo frets expertly installed and finished, and the nut is bone. Grover open back Sta-Tite tuners keep the Bluesbird nicely in tune. The pickups are USA-made Seymour Duncan JB (bridge) and ’59 (neck) models. TonePros locking bridge and stop tailpiece are included – very thoughtful touches.
Bluesbird controls are standard two Volumes and two Tones with clear plastic knobs and a toggle. The test model was shipped sans a pickguard, although a guard is standard on the black version and is included in the gig bag for the sunburst model as an option.
But how does the Bluesbird play?
“Effortless” comes to mind immediately. This is a very resonant instrument that sounds bright and lively unplugged. Single-string riffing was a breeze, the intonation was right on target, and plugged in, a pleasing variety of tones were available: clean, rich mids and snarling high end with added gain on the bridge pickup.
The Bluesbird would be comfortable in almost any musical setting, but make no mistake: this is a rock guitar at heart. The Duncan pickups and TonePros hardware are “built-in mods” that ratchet up the desirability. And with a street price under a grand, the Guild Bluesbird is an extremely viable alternative to similar looking, higher priced solidbodies.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
What’s a pedal platform? Nope, it’s not a carbon-fiber Pinarello mountain bike with Shimano shifters and derailleurs. It’s another term for the Bravado 40-watt head designed by pedal impresario Brian Wampler for any player who wants to hear that floor-bound pedalboard climb high like a Pinarello.
Behind the classy if understated exterior details and logo lie 6L6 power tubes and hand-wired circuitry. Power and standby switches are to the left of the front panel, with input to the right. And just one spot over, in white, sits the all-important Volume knob. There are also Treble, Middle, and Bass controls, and 16-, 8-, and 4-ohm speaker loads are selectable on the rear panel. No new bells and… wait – is that a Fat mini-switch? And a six-way Bright switch to give guitarists a sweepable selection of tone coloration to add a little sizzle to the high end?
Indeed, the Bravado is for tone tweakers who can hear pedals that attenuate higher frequencies. Or fans of single-coils who could use a little help in the mids.
Tested with Kent Armstrong single-coilpickups through a 12″ Celestion Greenback in an extension cab, the pedalboard was subdivided to take advantage of the effects loop. Wampler Ego Compressor, Ibanez Tube Screamer, and Duncan Palladium went into the front input. Brian Wampler worked with Dave Friedman to develop an active effects loop that would deliver an unfiltered sound, or a sound filtered only by the effects, in this case an E-H Holy Grail Reverb, Seymour Duncan Catalina Dynamic Chorus, a Wampler Tape Echo, and a Crazy Tube Circuits SPT for tremolo and related craziness “Clean.” That generic term sums up the unprocessed sound of the Wampler Bravado head, with no Master and no onboard reverb. The stacked pickups liked Bright switch settings 2, 3, and 4 for a natural sound. Position 1, and a flick of the Fat switch, and the solidbody began to behave like a hollowbody.
It’s all about the pedals, though, and the Bravado truly came alive when a Wampler Mini Ego compressor was activated with knobs straight up. Adding tonal color effects, starting with the Holy Grail reverb, the Bravado accentuated the impact of each pedal so that once “normal” settings seemed extreme. The whacky “Fleurb” setting of the Grail became detailed enough to cause mild vertigo. The Catalina Chorus and SPT reacted similarly, also with an apparent magnification of the impact of each pedal. Combining multi pedals only became unmusical when the effects were pushed to their sonic limits. But with typical settings, the characteristics of each individual pedal remained identifiably individual. Reference checks with a 60-year-old Ampeg Jet and a newish Fender Blues Jr. confirmed that the Bravado’s effects loop’s transparent sound outperformed both amps.
The downside to this extraordinary clarity lies in the pedals themselves, especially noisy overdrive, fuzz, and distortion units. Extraneous hum and buzz are magnified, through both the effects loop and the front panel jack. Despite this, the Bravado screamed behind that extra juice, with rolling harmonics on chords and eternally sustained notes. Swapping in an ancient battery-powered DOD Overdrive/Preamp 250, dialing down the Bright switch and Treble control, activating the Fat mini-switch and the compressor, the neck stacked humbucker achieved a “Look, Ma. No rolling off the tone control” “woman tone.”
At 40 watts, the Bravado is certainly club gig-worthy, but it could be the ultimate home dream amp. If those pedals you just couldn’t throw away are in a box in the studio, the Wampler Bravado demands that you take them out and revisit them.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Every pro guitarist who has laid eyes on the Pirate Guitar Effects Plank has initially thought they recognized the logo and taken a second look. The Plank is something other than a clone, though: it’s a take on a classic overdrive circuit – with added bonus points.
Germanium this, true-bypass that – all of the Plank’s boutique bells and whistles reside inside a heavy-duty red casing with that eye-catching graphic. The Plank uses a 9-volt battery (now considered old-school) or a standard center-ring 9-volt power supply. With Gain, Treble, and Output dove-head knobs and a stomp switch labeled “On/Off,” it’s all self-explanatory territory familiar to OD pedal users.
The left stomp switch, however, puts the Plank in unique territory, kicking in an Echoplex EP-3 preamp. And there are secrets to be explored by simply removing the back cover. For the musician who needs to compensate for differing outputs and sounds of humbuckers versus single-coils, there’s a Dark/Bright switch and the internal volume trim pot.
An OD pedal needs to hit a tube amp to work properly, so a Tele-parts guitar was plugged into a late-model tube combo set flat with reverb on 4 for a classic rock/blues jam session. With all knobs turned straight up, the guitar and amp performed together with smooth added boost exhibiting little breakup or squashed compression. Finding a place in an unrehearsed band mix was easy with the Plank. It simply made a good-sounding amp and guitar sound better without the crunch that can overwhelm an onstage mix. A strong single-note solo voice was characterized by good note separation, and double stops with bent notes sustained and sang with clarity and attitude. It was still possible to color chords without damning dissonance, yet a bent B string could hang on seemingly forever with a little finger wiggle.
Kicking in the Echoplex preamp circuit via the left stomp switch redefined the Plank, adding a hi-fi gloss with noticeable gain. Selecting the preamp before the right-switch circuitry produced different colors, and a few moments of tailoring the sound through the internal adjustments compensated for the impact of humbuckers in a hollowbody. Though these adjustments couldn’t be done on the fly, they maximize the usefulness of the Pirate Plank.
Smooth, sustaining overdrive, not too gritty, is what characterizes the Pirate Plank. You want fuzz or ragged breakup? Check your pedal stash – you already got that. Maybe it’s time to walk the Plank.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Most of us have been so conditioned to accept 12″ guitar speakers that we forget there are good options. While traditionally employed by bassists, 15″ speakers have also been used by the likes of Stevie Ray and Jimmie Vaughan, Dick Dale, Chris Duarte, and pedal-steel guitarists to get seriously fat tones. Peavey keeps the 1×15 tradition going with its Delta Blues 115 Tweed, a tube combo with a Celestion Fullback.
The Delta Blues is a loud 30-watter with a swank tweed skin, leather handle, and chrome top panel. Despite the old-school vibe, this is a two-channel amp with a footswitchable lead boost, effects loop, and external speaker jack, all speaking to the needs of modern guitarists. The amp sports four EL84 power tubes and a trio of 12AX7s in the preamp, and weighs about 50 pounds. It also has two rear jacks for Channel/Boost and Reverb/Tremolo footswitches (the amp comes with a single two-button footswitch, but you can buy another to manage all four on/off functions).
Controls include a Normal volume knob in Channel 1, and Pre and Post volume knobs in Channel 2 to conjure the proper degree of overdrive. There’s also a passive three-band EQ, reverb, and a tremolo circuit with Speed and Intensity knobs. Buttons include Channel Select and Boost, along with Power and Standby switches to the far right.
Tested with a Stratocaster, the Delta Blues sounded fabulous, with a huge sonic girth and sweet high-end – no harsh trebles here, especially with the spring reverb kicked on. The clean channel was fine for all manner of blues, country, rockabilly, and classic and modern rock – basically everything from Howlin’ Wolf to the Alabama Shakes. Jump to the overdrive channel and things get feistier, with big, bruising power chord crunch, thankfully without any glassy screech. The tremolo circuit only adds to the fun. Adjust the Treble knob, as well as your guitar’s volume and tone, to find the perfect sweet spot. You will be impressed by the heavenly tones.
The power amp’s 30 watts of output is plenty loud, but if you need more volume for gigs, consider an external cab or PA. The only debit is that the plastic Channel and Boost buttons are a bit flimsy for long-term gigging. Otherwise the Delta Blues 115 Tweed is strong contender for your tube-amp dollar. Peavey has a true winner here.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Gather ’round, children, for a scary bedtime story. Once upon a time, there was no such thing as a high-gain amp. So, wizards built treble boosters – like the Dallas Rangemaster – to add high-end response. Other sorcerers came up with a Top Boost modification, which they added to the Vox AC30. Then a mad scientist created a Frankenstein monster known as the Marshall, whose higher gain meant treble boosters would be largely lost to the mists of time.
Lost, that is, unless you have a vintage amp and you’re chasing those vintage tones. Which is where a magician named Dan Albrecht, founder of Area 51 Tube Audio Designs, steps in. His Alienist pedal breathes new life into the treble-booster concept – and in an interesting blend of old-fashioned and newfangled ways.
To start with, the Alienist looks suitably steampunk. It’s housed in an aged-copper-colored box with a portal lens in the center showing the eerie glow of the hard-working innards.
Those hand-wired guts include both old-school low-gain NOS germanium and new-tech higher-gain silicon transistors, switchable via a toggle that offers two sonic paths to mate to your guitar, amp, or the voice you hear in your head.
The Alienist was tested with a ’55 Fender Esquire and a tweed Deluxe. Now, few people have ever complained about the tone of a’59 Deluxe, but with the Alienist in the path, the array of tonal colorings was astounding, opening up the amp’s range in many ways.
To be sure, the Alienist is not simply your basic treble booster (Albrecht calls it a “Voicing Boost Pedal”); beyond the choice of the two driving transistors, the effect also has a six-position Voicing selector.
The effect helps to truly wake up a dark-sounding amp, enhancing its front end to balance out the shadowier shadings of tone. At the same time, the Alienist provides a wider variety of sounds under your fingertips as its boost broadens your amp’s range, which you can then control better than ever via the Volume and Tone knobs on your guitar. This greater touch sensitivity provides everything from shimmering cleans to dirty lowdown – all by way of those guitar tweaks.
Mixing and matching transistors with the Voicing options yields a pleasing range of sonic possibilities. Go for the high-gain silicon transistor with a low Voicing setting, and your tone is pure fat. Adjust the Voicing and you can dial in some overdrive (thanks to the boost) and some glorious second-order harmonics in those trebly upper registers. Talk about singing. Darken the amp, guitar, and the Alienist’s voice and you can mimic Clapton’s vaunted “woman tone” – and this from an Esquire.
The Alienist’s output is also especially responsive to pick attack and how hard you dig into the strings. Ease back and relax, and you get warmth and comfort. Dive in, and you’ll find new edges and angles to your sound. The pedal’s other toggle (Norm/Res) activates a filter stage that lends it some cocked wah character and harmonics – a unique facet of the circuit.
The Alienist’s build and componentry are also impressive: audiophile-grade resistors and capacitors for low hum and noise – as well as the best tone possible – plus Switchcraft #11 jacks as used on vintage Fender amps all ensure that this is an effect built to last.
Of course, a stompbox without tone isn’t worth stomping on. But the Alienist also wins points for being the coolest-looking pedal to come through this reviewer’s mailbox in a long time. From that copper steampunk styling to the etched-in gothic script to that menacing glowing eye – this is one manmade tone monster.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
When Charles Thompson adopted the stage name Black Francis to play the Pixies’ first gig – at a bar in the suburbs on a Wednesday night in 1986 – guitarist Joey Santiago was right there, the two of them unfazed by the tiny crowd and chilly reception.
Santiago ’90s: Rick Gould. Pixies: Simon Foster. Santiago and Charles Thompson rehearsing in 1985, the former (LEFT) with his Ovation Viper. By the early ’90s, he was using a Les Paul Classic (RIGHT).
Former students at UMass Amherst, Thompson had convinced dorm mate Santiago to quit the books and get serious with his guitar. The two spent 1984 working warehouse jobs while Thompson wrote lyrics on his subway commute and at night grabbed a guitar to add backing chords. In late ’85, they placed an ad in a music newspaper seeking a bassist who was “…into Hüsker Dü and Peter, Paul and Mary.” The only response came from a folk-rocker named Kim Deal. Though she had never played bass or been in a band that made it out of the garage, she had a willing drummer friend named Dave Lovering. The four gathered and after just a few months of the bar grind scored an opening slot when Throwing Muses rolled through Boston. In the audience that night was producer Gary Smith, who in March of ’87 took the Pixies to his studio to cut a demo. Eight of the 18 songs became the band’s EP Come On Pilgrim.
Behind Thompson’s songwriting, the band developed a style that would prove supremely influential in the coming years, delivering lyrical messages that were harsh, humorous, or soul-searching paired with music that strayed from traditional pop structures via exaggerated dynamics – low-key verses mixed with screaming, go-for-the-throat choruses. Early albums like Surfer Rosa and Doolittle saw them develop into a college-radio stalwart in the U.S., while in the U.K. they were chart regulars and a huge concert draw.
Though their apex proved short, the Pixies created music with impact. Thom York of Radiohead and every member of Nirvana have referred to their own bands as Pixies rip-offs. David Bowie was a fan of Thompson’s odd art, and U2’s Bono has cited him as a great songwriter.
After a brief hiatus, the Pixies recorded Trompe le Monde in 1991 then toured the following spring before Thompson famously broke up the band via fax (except to Santiago, who got a phone call). They reunited to tour in 2004 and sporadically in the years after. In 2013, they released a compilation called Indie Cindy, followed by Head Carrier in ’16 with new bassist/vocalist Paz Lenchantin.
In a 2006 interview, Thompson cited Santiago as “the unsung hero of the Pixies,” for his ability to make simple guitar parts stand out, using a subtle touch in a rough setting. Quiet and soft-spoken, Santiago’s role behind the scenes has always been immense and his playing has tempered – or fostered – Thompson’s angsty lyrics. We recently spoke with Santiago to learn more about his background and the latest on the band.
Santiago/Francis photo courtesy of J. Santiago.
How did music first become part of your life?
The Beatles were big where I grew up in the Philippines, and I loved their sound instantly when I heard “Savoy Truffle.” Later, we listened a lot to the “King Biscuit Flower Hour” and watched “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert.” I remember seeing so many bands on that show and thinking, “This is cool.” It looked like a good time, and on “King Biscuit,” especially, they played live. I thought, “I want to do that.” It was such a huge dream.
Did you ask your parents for a guitar?
Well, my brother’s guitar was right there hanging on the wall, so I got The Mel Bay Easy Way to Guitar and learned basic stuff like “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” But I pretty much went straight to barre chords, then I was like, “That’s all I really need.” I learned other songs here and there – the basics of rock and roll.
Did you jam with friends?
Yes, but it was terrible.
After high school, you studied economics in college. How did that happen?
Well, I apparently had the brain for it. After I aced my mid-terms sophomore year, a professor said, “I see you’re undeclared. Would you be interested in economics?” I said, “Sure.”
And you met Charles because he lived in your dorm?
Yeah, he was two doors away.
What were your first impressions of him?
He was jolly. He was drinking milk from the little cartons you got at the cafeteria, and had his acoustic guitar. He was more into blues and stuff. My Ovation Viper was back home when I met him – I was focused on keeping up my GPA and didn’t want to be distracted. But I brought it from home and we started jamming in the common area.
Would people give you looks?
Yeah, and some would actually come over to watch. I don’t know that we worked on any songs that became anything, but we had some cool riffs… no lyrics.
Guitar and amp photos: Simon Foster. (LEFT) Santiago makes frequent use of the Bigsby on this ’65 Gibson ES-345. Its Varitone control rarely moves out of position 3. (RIGHT) This Les Paul Custom is Santiago’s primary stage instrument. Completely stock including the Bigsby, it’s as heavy as it looks.
Was there chemistry right away?
Yeah, we were having fun. I think he liked the weirdness in what I was playing. Years before, I’d found these albums in the public library. It’s a funny story… AC/DC was playing in town, and I rode my bike to the hall and cruised around back. When I spotted someone by their bus, I said, “Hey, I want to meet Angus,” and the guy said, “Beat it, kid!” So, I went to the library instead, got a card, and took home these albums by Joe Pass, Wes Montgomery, Les Paul. I thought, “That’s what I should learn if I want to play weird stuff in some kind of rock-and-roll thing.” I understood Jimi and Jimmy and Townshend and all that, but people had already done it. I was trying to find something else. That said, I did learn the opening chord to “Purple Haze” and used it a lot in the Pixies, but you never wig out on “Is She Weird” one note at a time.
And you weren’t into the shredder scene at the time – high-gain tones on superstrats?
Yeah, two things I wasn’t into (laughs) – the speed because everybody was doing it, you know? It sounded like “How fast can you type?” I was more into the Cars – Elliot Easton’s lyrical playing. And Queen. When I found out Roy Thomas Baker produced both bands, I made the connection. Back then, I would read about producers and recording engineers, and I noticed on a lot of jazz records how the sound was open and simple – I figured they probably used one microphone. When Charles and I met, I started listening to Iggy Pop.
(LEFT) This Les Paul ’60 Classic is a longtime road companion and was once his primary stage axe. (RIGHT) An ES-Les Paul Goldtop.
Which amp were you using when the Pixies started gigging?
A Peavey Special. It was cheap and had this awesome distortion I thought was great – super gainy even with the Volume turned really low.
And a clean channel that was unbelievably loud…
Yeah, I kinda ignored that (laughs). But that was it – I had the Viper, that amp, and a tuner. Nothing else.
When did you start using more effects?
When we started recording, and then all I bought was distortion pedals. Later, I fooled around with delay. To this day, I have at least eight delay pedals.
Feedback was a pretty important part of your sound.
Right. Playing live, I’d get that by turning up and facing the amp. The cool part was finding that spot where you could get it to really sing. It was like “Alright, where’s the feedback in this room?” I remember the stage floor at CBGBs had this loose plank I would jump on to rattle the spring reverb. It would make this sound people thought was magical. I’d jump, and kaboom!
What was the next guitar to come along?
I was always into Teles because of the cover of Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run, but of course Charles had one. So, I bought a Fender Mustang when we started touring. There ended up being a lot of guitars around and Charles gave it away one day because he thought it was his (laughs)! That’s when we knew we had a lot of guitars – and s***ty memories! That’s when I got a Les Paul
What year was it?
It was Kim Deal’s – a ’70s, with soapbar pickups. And when I started [using] the vibrato, I’d get crazy and Kim quickly said, “Can I have my guitar back?” So I got my own, a goldtop Classic. I was the cheapest one I could find with the thin neck I loved. I still have it, but I broke it playing in Paris; I put it on a stand while doing a solo where I’d play with just the pedals, doing this thing with delay where I’d make it sound like the guitar would keep playing. I thought, “Man, this is f***ing cool!” But sometimes the guitar came out of the stand and went flat on its face.
Santiago rarely moves his 50-watt Marshall JCM 800 from the high-gain channel. For clean sounds, he relies on a mid-’60s Fender Vibrolux Reverb.
Did it suffer that famous neck-angle whiplash that has claimed so many Les Pauls?
Yeah, and it was probably the third time it had fallen like that. I picked it up and the strings were all loose. Then, I got the Les Paul Special.
As alt-rock became more popular, followed by grunge, did you see Pixies influence in other bands?
I did, and probably the first time was when I heard the opening to “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” by Nirvana. I saw an interview with Dave Grohl later, and he was talking about recording and telling his band, “This sounds like the Pixies, I don’t think we should be doing this.”
What was your reaction when Charles put the band on the backburner in ’93?
After I hung up the phone, my girlfriend – now my ex-wife – said, “What happened?” I said, “Um, the Pixies just broke up.” I didn’t make a big deal out of it – went back to cutting vegetables. It was a relief, really, because we were unhappy.
What was your plan from that point?
Well, after going into depression and staying in my room for three months, I discovered recording to a computer. So I made a bunch of demo tapes and thinking, “Why don’t I compose music?” Everyone always called the stuff I played “atmospheric,” anyway, so I got an agent and became serious about it. I also went back to college to finish my degree, but then one day my agent called and said, “This guy, Judd Apatow, wants to meet you.” He had heard my demos. So we met and he asked, “How long did take you to do this?” I told him, “Some of it was an hour, some was 20 minutes.” And he goes, “You’re not bulls****ing me, are you?” I told him, “No,” and he asked me to compose the score for his TV show, “Undeclared.” I also started doing films.
Head Carrier is the band’s first set of songs written to go together since Trompe le Monde. Was the process similar to those earlier albums?
No, we took about three weeks just sorting through songs, then figured out which would go to the wayside. Then, we went to Toronto to record proper demos and met with producer Tom Dalgety. Right away, we were bonding, and he thought we had enough songs, so we started recording. We did pre-production for a couple weeks, decided on arrangements, then pretty much nailed recording in three weeks; David did drum tracks in three days, then we recorded bass, then guitar, then vocals.
Santiago and Lanchantin: Simon Foster. Santiago and bassist Lenchantin during the recording of Head Carrier.
And Charles’ lyrics were worked out?
Kinda. There were a handful he wanted to tweak.
What amps did you use?
I had my Marshalls and my Vibrolux.
Did your parts come together pretty easily?
Yeah, we were writing guitar parts as we went, but I got them down pretty quickly.
The album has a strong modern-rock feel but still sounds like a Pixies record going back. It reinforces the thought that you guys were ahead of your time.
Well, we were drawing from the past – we embraced what it is, what we are, what comes naturally to us. And it might sound different because Kim left, but it’s different [because we were] experimenting.
How did you decide Paz was right for the band?
We knew it, really, on our second tour with her. And when we started recording the album, she had great suggestions, and she had chops, obviously.
What was the first connection with her?
She played with my ex-wife and I in the Martinis once, which I sometimes forget because it was years ago. But, I called my friend, Josh Freese, the drummer in Perfect Circle, and said, “Is there anyone you think would work?” We wanted to try out three people. Charles knew of one, and I also thought about Rachel Haden, of That Dog; she played with Todd Rundgren and was spectacular. Then Paz came in and was very much in our mood, had a good sense of humor. We enjoyed every moment with her.
How do you describe the nuance Paz brings vocally, compositionally, and in her bass parts?
Her vocals are right on, she’s a perfectionist, and her attitude in the studio was very light. We loved that she fit in – it’s hard to find people as weird as us. She’s positive; we call her “Pazative.”
So, if it wasn’t for rock and roll and the Pixies, what would your life have been like?
I don’t know… I would probably be trying to be in a band. It probably wouldn’t be as good as this.
Santiago: Simon Foster. Santiago in the studio, pedals galore.
Did you ever wonder if that knack you had for economics could have amounted to anything?
The only thing I knew about economics was that Mick Jagger was also an Econ major. So my economics background has nothing to do with the Pixies… other than me wanting to tour more because the fixed costs were already paid. I remember one professor asking a class, “Who wants to work for IBM?” A lot of people raised their hands, but I didn’t. I thought, “Hmm, I shouldn’t be here.”
How have fans reacted to Head Carrier?
All very positive. We made something fresh and smeared our fingerprints all over it! Seriously, though, it’s been great playing the new songs in the live show. They fit in really well.
Have there been notable tour highlights?
We had great shows in the U.K. and Ireland to start, and now mainland Europe. A personal highlight for me was when my kids came to Paris to see us at a Lollapalooza in July. It was interesting to experience through their eyes.
How does Europe compare with the U.S.?
I prefer to tour in Europe. It’s got a liberal vibe and the architecture is interesting.
Do you have any expectations for the fall tour in the U.S.?
I’m definitely looking forward to visiting cities we have not done with this album, including shows in Canada and the Midwest, particularly. I look forward to every tour.
What’s next for the band?
After this, we’ll take a break, but then we have two more U.S. tours. Next year, we’re planning to visit another continent – one we have not yet done on this album. And we’re thinking about recording a new album.
What do you think it is about Pixies music that draws a perpetually young audience?
I guess when a part of each generation reads that Kurt Cobain was into us, they take a listen. Plus, “Where Is My Mind” was on Fight Club.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
In the 1970s, rockers were cranking out now-classic live sets with stunning regularity – Jimi Hendrix’s Band of Gypsys in 1970, the Allman Brothers’ At Fillmore East in ’71, Deep Purple’s Made in Japan in ’73, Kiss’ Alive! in ’75, Led Zeppelin’s The Song Remains the Same, Peter Frampton’s Frampton Comes Alive! and Bob Seger’s Live Bullet in ’76, Thin Lizzy’s Live and Dangerous in ’78, The Ramones’ It’s Alive, Cheap Trick’s At Budokan, and UFO’s Strangers in the Night in ’79.
The first prototype for the Sky Elite series, dubbed Sunrise Sky.
Worthy of inclusion is the Scorpions’ stellar 1978 offering, Tokyo Tapes, featuring Uli Jon Roth on guitar. With the Scorps embarking on a more commercial sound after Roth’s exit that year, the heavier/more psychedelic “Uli era” (which included shred-tastic tracks like “The Sails of Charon,” “Virgin Killer,” “Dark Lady,” “Fly to the Rainbow,” etc.) is often overlooked.
In an effort to raise its profile and remind fans of its place, Roth recently toured with a set list comprised solely of Scorpions classics from the ’70s. He then offered the 2015 album Scorpions Revisited and 2016 DVD Tokyo Tapes Revisited.
What inspired Tokyo Tapes Revisited?
The idea came up some time ago from friends who suggested a tour dedicated to early Scorpions material. Their idea was, “If you don’t do it, nobody will. People want to hear these songs, and the Scorpions concentrate on post-Uli stuff. But there’s a wealth of material that deserves to be heard live and in the right context, authentically.” That was the pitch, and I thought it was unusual because I see myself as a forward-looking artist, writing new music, though I’ve been known to indulge in stuff that is 300 years old (laughs). But I thought, “Why not? Maybe I should have a look at the material.” And I got a very good response from promoters; it was basically, “Let’s do it.”
So, we started touring a program I called Scorpions Revisited, with the idea of a live album and DVD. We started recording, and the first tour – we did America – was very good but I was wasn’t quite satisfied because the more we played this stuff, the better it got. We were interpreting it in a way that made sense, and with full inspiration, and we got an album out of it. But we didn’t have a DVD yet because I wasn’t perfectly happy with the footage. So I thought, “The idea is so strong and we have enough material… let’s split the project into halves – do the CD, then the DVD.” And that’s what happened. We played Sunplaza Hall in Tokyo, scene of the original Tokyo Tapes recordings in ’78, and recorded the whole thing. There’s a Blu-Ray version of the concert – two and a half hours – and there are more-extensive versions which include audio of the shows we did in Osaka and Nagoya. Both were great, and I’m happy we could include them. Where the main feature is the Tokyo Tapes show in full surround, a deluxe package has four vinyl versions of Scorpions Revisited, a book with photos, eight CDs and DVDs, a t-shirt, key chain, etcetera. It’s by far the most extensive release I’ve ever had.
Roth onstage in 2015 at the Sun Plaza Hall, Tokyo, with keyboardist Corvin Bahn and bassist Ule W. Ritgen.
You included “The Sails of Charon,” which was not on the original Tokyo Tapes. Why was it excluded the first time?
We weren’t really able to play it convincingly. We tried a few times in rehearsal, but it fell short of my expectations. It was one of those things I had recorded myself except for drums and vocals. When it came to the stage, we didn’t get it together, so I never thought it fit our live set. In the early 2000s, I did an orchestral version, then later I started integrating it in various guises. It went through some metamorphosis along the way, but the theme always remained even if the arrangement changed.
Sky Guitar prototypes built by Boris Dommenget. On the left is a doubleneck (Roth named it Mighty New Dawn) with seven nylon strings and seven standard electric strings. In the middle is Sunrise Sky, and on the right is Sunset Sky, a flamenco with eight nylon strings.
What was it about the ’70s and classic live albums?
I think it’s to do with what I call “The Law of the Octave.” At the beginning of any new development, a lot of the most important and interesting things happen in the first half of that octave, quickly and in abundance. The second part is like a journey through time, where the results become a bit more perfect, more smooth, but maybe not as exciting or novel. Usually, the invention takes place at the beginning. When you look at how rock and roll developed in the ’50s, you first had a mixture of blues and certain rhythms – Chuck Berry, you name it. Then, in the ’60s, you had that groundwork as other influences came into it. The ’60s were a very interesting time for music, with most of the important action happening with artists like the Beatles and several others. At the second half of the ’60s, you had Hendrix and Cream pushing into a new era, creating the groundwork for the rock bands that followed. Then, bands like Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple created a bridge while the bands that came later were basically spin-offs. I think the Scorpions were one of the groups in the early ’70s that were part of what helped create a genre – new sounds and new ways of looking at it all. The ’80s became more smooth, and recordings started to sound the same. In America, you had corporate rock where every band had to have this massive snare-drum sound they thought was emulating John Bonham, and then there were certain vocal sounds and harmonies. Heavy metal [was popular], but most of the influential stuff had already happened. It wasn’t as successful in terms of sales, but the influence came from the ’60s and ’70s.
Roth with his ’75 Strat circa 1979, just after he’d left the Scorpions and formed Electric Sun.The Strat now has a heavy-duty vibrato arm made by former Scorpions bassist Francis Buchholz.
What was the origin of your Sky guitars?
The idea came to me at the end of 1982 for the simple reason that I had played Strats for years – mainly the white one I still own that I used on four Scorpions albums and three Electric Sun albums. That guitar did it all for me, and I loved it; the Strat is a perfect instrument in its own way just like the Les Paul is perfect in its own way. But there were things I didn’t like, and in time I wanted to go places the Strat couldn’t. The first was I wanted to play higher in the range. Even in the early Scorpions, if you listen closely to In Trance you’ll hear a couple spots where I play the top Eb, which on the Strat was hard because it had 21 frets, so its highest note was technically a C#; for us, it was a C because we were tuned a semi-tone down. So I had to really bend the string to reach Eb.
So, I found Andreas Demetriou, a very good guitar builder in Brighton, England, and asked him to put two extra frets on the Strat. He said, “No problem” and I used those extra frets on the Electric Sun albums. Andreas did a brilliant job. But then he said, “Look, I can build you any guitar you like.” I’ll never forget that moment, because something happened in my mind. I suddenly started to question the whole thing. I thought, “Why shouldn’t I try to come up with something that enables me to do what I want?” And that’s how it started. I didn’t want to lose what the Strat had – the sound, the feel, the flair. I wanted to build on its strength, but in order to play extra notes, something had to give. I also wanted a guitar that was visually gratifying and nicely balanced – not symmetrically, but a different way.
So, I sat down and closed my eyes. Then I started drawing. I went to Andreas and said, “Can you build this?” And that’s how it started, and I never played another guitar. We built five prototypes throughout the ’80s, including a seven-string that preceded Steve Vai’s [Ibanez Universe]. I called mine Mighty Wing and it became my main guitar for 20 years until I was persuaded to market Sky guitars. That’s a story in itself because since the first Sky was built, a lot of manufacturers became aware of it and it was copied several times. In Japan, they produced a run without my knowledge, and a lot of players had Sky copies, but when I’ve played one, they were usually very bad.
Infinity Sky is a seven-string with mahogany body, maple top, and flame-maple neck with scalloped fretboard.
I didn’t like that copies were being made, but I couldn’t stop it. Then I met Elliott Rubinson, the late CEO of Dean Guitars, and he persuaded me to market a limited edition. He said, “We’ll do the guitar exactly to your specifications and you get a free hand in research and development. We’ll build prototypes until you’re satisfied.” That was all I needed to hear, and that’s exactly what we did – experimented and made the guitars better and better in small details.
I’ve recently designed a new Sky with an incredible active pickup system with a 100-dB output and a Gain control that enables me to control the clean channel of any amp without using any gadgets. It also has in-built delay and a looper. My current Sky is a dream machine. It can do anything I want.
In the ’70s, you and the white Strat were pretty influential during your stint in the Scorpions. What’s the story behind that guitar?
My dad bought my first Strat – a sunburst – in 1971, and I played it on Fly to the Rainbow in ’74. But the following year, we went to a music shop in Hamburg and I saw this white Strat for 900 Deutsche Marks. It was a ’75, stock, but had exceptionally high output on the rear pickup, so it sang like crazy. And because I had broken several vibrato bars on my sunburst Strat – maybe I was manhandling them in a vain attempt to emulate Jimi Hendrix, I don’t know – we built a new vibrato block for it and a massive vibrato arm. Our bass player, Francis Buchholz, had studied engineering and he said, “I can make a new block,” which he did using V2A steel.
Sunset Sky is a flamenco with eight nylon strings.
Which amplifiers do you use?
Currently, my main stage amp is a Blackstar Artisan 100. It doesn’t have a Master section; it’s really old-school, very similar in design to Marshall plexis that used to be my favorite lead amps. It’s based on that design, but infinitely more reliable. I have several and they’re virtually unbreakable – it’s amazing how long they run before you even need to have a look at the valves. Plus, they give the spectrum I like. The downside is they’re very, very loud. When you’re playing clubs, sometimes it creates casualties in the first row. But recently, we started turning away the amps from the audience. The downside then is that I only really hear the monitor sound, but I guess there’s a price for everything. These amps are built for bigger stages, but I can get a great sound out of them when I just turn up one on the main channels. And it has so much headroom, which I want so I can gradually bring in the power of the Sky’s preamp and get a very smooth, singing sustain with all the overtones I want. I set the guitar’s EQ differently every night depending on the stage; often, stages are made dead to give full control to the engineer in front. That’s the downside. But with my setup, I can get a decent sound, and in most locations it’s actually a great sound. I’ve worked hard to get to that point, and I’m very happy about it.
The first batch of Sky Guitars built by Boris Dommenget for Dean.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Tested with Kent Armstrong single-coil
