Awesome Musical Instruments T3 Pickup Switch Upgrade
Price: $149.99 (black or white three-ply); $164.99 (white pearloid); $169.99 (brown tortoiseshell)
Info: www.awesome-guitars.com.
When Leo Fender was designing the Strat back in the early ’50s, he equipped it with a surplus three-way pickup selector. Three pickups, three choices – simple and straightforward. Players ever since have tried to unlock all of the sounds that a three-pickup guitar can offer, whether by simply positioning the pickup selector in just the right spot for that quacky “out of phase” sound (i.e., positions two and four), installing an aftermarket five-way selector, or adding push/pull switches or mini toggles.
Now Awesome Musical Instruments offers the key to unlocking 35 true analog tones residing in three-pickup guitars. The T3 Pickup Switch Upgrade comprises a proprietary system of six mini toggle switches, a master volume control, and a master tone control, all prewired into a custom-configured Strat pickguard with matching knobs. The T3 drops right into the guitar and uses the existing pickups as well as Euro-style push blocks for all the pickup and control connections. That means no soldering, just small wire cutters, pliers, and a Phillips screwdriver.
The first three of the T3’s six mini toggle switches turn their respective pickups on or off, either in or out of phase. The second set of three switches determines whether the pickups are connected in series or in parallel. There is a bit of a learning curve, but because everything is laid out it in a logical fashion, it’s not as bad as one might expect. When learning the system, it’s important to keep in mind that some switches won’t do anything to the sound unless more than one pickup is on.
The five familiar sounds (bridge, bridge/middle, middle, middle/neck, and neck, all in parallel) are easy to find with individual pickup switches. Two other useful pickup combos are also simple to find: the neck and bridge pickups in parallel for a Tele middle-position sound, and all three pickups in parallel for a fat but still snappy single-coil sound. Add the ability to switch any of the three pickups to true out-of-phase, for that thin, nasally tone, and the T3 presents a whole new sound palette. Granted, phase switches had their heyday in the late ’70s and early ’80s, and the low-fi sound has some limitations, but the option does add a cool retro vibe (especially when soloing), and really makes single tones jump. It’s a nice option.
For some really uncharted territory, the T3 can put the three pickups into the circuit in series instead of in parallel (as with typical Strat switching), creating a humbucker-style sound with two or all three of the pickups. The results are atypical of single-coil-loaded Strats – fatter and thicker with more midrange and less top-end sparkle. Sometimes the differences in tone from parallel to series switching can be a bit subtle and have a tendency to show more contrast when explored with some overdrive dialed in on the amp.
To be sure, it takes time to really explore all the possibilities the T3 Pickup Switch Upgrade has to offer, but it’s a fun trip that ultimately leads to some familiar classic sounds – as well as some cool new ones.
This article originally appeared in VG July 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Long a stalwart in the world of guitar amplification, California-based Mesa/Boogie has stomped into the world of effects pedals with four new releases: the handmade Tone-Burst, Flux-Drive, Grid Slammer, and Throttle Box drive pedals are housed in heavy-duty die-cast 2.87″ x 4.77″ x 2.28″ bud boxes with super-thick powdercoat finishes, etched aluminum faceplates, hand-stuffed PCBs, TPDT true-bypass footswitches, and chassis-mounted pots and jacks. Each took its turn between a Gibson Les Paul Standard Plus and a Mesa Rect-O-Verb 1×12 combo.
Lowest of the four on the gain food chain is the Tone-Burst, which has a Level control, Gain control, and active (with center detents) Bass and Treble controls. The Tone-Burst is, for the most part, a clean-boost, though a bit of dirt can be extracted with the Gain control cranked. It can push the front end of an amp into overdrive, but really lives up to its name by adding a “burst” of musical high and midrange harmonics without over-coloring the tone or adding unwanted noise. It’s one of those pedals that’s tempting to leave on all the time for the punch it adds to an amp’s sound.
The metalflake green Grid Slammer, with its basic three-knob setup (Level, Gain, and Tone) and familiar midrange “bump” is Mesa’s take on the classic “screamer” circuit. It offers up enough gain/overdrive to act as a standalone distortion pedal for crunchy rhythm work in the clean channel, or as a solo gain/mid boost in the overdrive channel. The Grid Slammer’s single tone control is well-voiced and a bit more refined than the classic Screamer’s, allowing for a bit smoother overdrive that is still very crunchy with plenty of bark.
The Flux-Drive features Level and Gain controls and active (with center detents) Bass and Treble tone controls much like the Tone-Burst. But, compared to the Tone-Burst and Grid Slammer, the Flux-Drive definitely ramps up the amount of available gain and has a nice raw yet musical quality that produces a thick sustain with lots of crunch and bite. The two-band tone control does a good job dialing in the right amount of attack and punch while not changing the overall flavor of the distortion.
Last but not least, especially when it comes to gain, is the Throttle Box, featuring a Level knob, a Gain knob with a Lo/Hi toggle, a passive Tone control, and a Mid Cut tone control. Make no mistake, this a Mesa product: it has tons of available gain, especially in the Hi setting; a thick, tight sound; and a smooth, well-voiced Mid Cut control for that signature modern scooped sound. The Throttle Box also retains some of that raw, rough quality of the Flux-Drive while adding to its hard and punchy in-your-face sound. For a bit less low-end thump and more of a classic rock tone, the Throttle-Box has an internal boost circuit that can be switched on and off with a DIP switch in the battery compartment.
Each of Mesa/Boogie’s new drive pedals delivers pro-quality sounds and is built tough for years of road use. And while all four will contribute to the delinquency of your amp’s clean channel and violate its dirty signal with the same legendary quality and attitude that made Mesa/Boogie amps industry leaders, each offers a distinct tone and set of features, making this a lineup that will suit the needs of an array of players.
This article originally appeared in VG May 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The Vox brand may be quintessentially English, but it made a huge impact in the U.S. Riding in with the 1964 British invasion, Vox even displaced Fender for a time as the land’s most desired amplifier. Vox guitars lacked the same impact (the Beatles didn’t play them, after all) but were seen prominently in the hands of the Rolling Stones, Hollies, and others. In retrospect, Vox guitars are most often associated with a ’60s-/garage-band aesthetic. Fashionable for a time, by the end of the decade, Vox guitars and amps had fallen out of favor along with the Beat Group sounds they provided. Still, the best – or at least best-looking – Vox guitars continue to provide an instant cool ’60s vibe (check out the latest Toyota Corolla TV commercial).
Tom Jennings signs off on America.
The Vox brand hit U.S. teens like a hurricane with the Beatles arrival, but Vox instruments were initially unobtainable, which added to the mystique! Jennings Musical Industries (JMI), a relatively small company in Dartford, Kent, experienced explosive growth supplying the British Beat Boom with its signature amplification. This runaway success was a double-edged sword; needing capital to build the vast amounts of equipment on order (but not paid for), Jennings had no choice but to seek outside financing. By September of ’63, the Royston group (a British electronics concern) had bought a controlling interest from founder Tom Jennings. Amps were the bulk of the business; most Vox guitars were cheap beginner’s models, though by the beginning of ’64 some professional-quality instruments were in-hand. Royston/JMI had no distribution in the U.S. when the Beatles opened this vast market, but one American company had a foot in the door…
By the summer of ’64, Thomas Organ Company was JMI’s exclusive U.S. distributor. Like Hammond and Baldwin, Thomas made mostly large, expensive console organs for the upscale home market. These were big business in the early ’60s, and Thomas was a major player. If, in retrospect, they seem rather unhip (at least compared to Hammond), at the time, Thomas was building some of the most technically advanced organs of the day. Still, in ’64, their big endorser was Mitch Miller; Lawerence Welk was featured in the ’65 ad campaign, the spotlight product being an organ with lighted keys showing students which note to hit! They had no footing in the Beat market, not even building small portable units like Vox supplied to likes of the Animals or the Dave Clark Five.
The Eko factory, 1964.
Thomas was actually a relatively young company – founded in 1956 – and by ’64 a subsidiary of Warwick Electronics, which was a major builder of portable TV sets. Thomas was an early pioneer in high-end solidstate technology – in ’59, the company introduced transistor organs, offering an unusual five-year guarantee. They even sold home organs with a built-in stereo phonograph!
Thomas’ gung-ho founder and president was one Joe Benaron, a big believer in aggressive marketing. In ’62, the company advised music dealers, “Strong, aggressive merchants are selling Thomas – or should be! Join Thomas now… don’t wake up to discover yourself selling against it!” Even so, Benaron was watching its share in the overall market shrink as teenagers everywhere turned to guitars. By late ’64, even Piano Trade magazine was running features like “Guitar – The Instrument with the Golden Future!” Benaron, like many in his shoes, wanted a piece of that action!
The Eko factory, 1964.
Personally, Benaron had much common ground with Tom Jennings, who also started with electric keyboards. Jennings admired the big “Classy” products Thomas built, and it’s been suggested he considered his amps, guitars, and organs to be less-admirable creations despite their success. Jennings was pleased to distribute Thomas organs in the U.K., and in turn Thomas secured exclusive American distribution rights to Vox. At the British Music Trade Fair on August 30, 1964, Thomas placed an order for $1 million worth of Vox equipment; at the time the largest single order for musical merchandise ever made with a U.K. firm. This was followed in mid November by a second order for $1.5 million and, in early ’65, with another for $2 million. Add various exports to Europe and the Far East and the situation for JMI looked rosy – on the surface. The challenge came in supplying the product!
The Vox Teen Beat masthead.
Compared to the American market’s appetite for Vox, the trickle of amps, guitars, and organs JMI was able to supply was a pinprick. Seeing this, Benaron deduced that exploiting it fully meant not just distributing Vox – he wanted his company to be Vox in America! This eventually led to what could be described as a bait-and-switch operation on a massive scale. Instruments sold under the Vox name in the U.S. became the product of a collaboration between English, Italian, and American concerns, many well-removed from their Dartford roots. Vox amplifiers proved very expensive to import. Thomas gave them English-sounding names like Berkeley, Buckingham, and Royal Guardsman, but soon enough they were actually being built in the U.S. At first, Thomas assembled imported chassis into locally-built cabinets, then began substituting domestic components, eventually the only English-made part was the speaker. Using their transistor technology, Warwick/Thomas re-engineered the Vox tube amps designed by Dick Denney at JMI into something completely different, made in a huge plant in Sepulveda, like Warwick’s TVs. In terms of design and construction, these American-made solidstate amps were by no means junk – they have endured better than Fender’s transistor efforts – but they were worlds away from the English “valve” amps they were marketed as being equivalent to.
Reluctant endorsers the Bobby Fuller 4.
Vox guitars, too, were re-engineered for the American market, but not in Sepulveda. Guitar making at JMI ran a distant second to amplifiers; despite interesting designs, production relied on sometimes-spotty subcontractors. Solidbodies were assembled in the U.K., but JMI tried several Italian guitar builders as sources for plywood hollowbody guitars nobody in England had the facility to make. After working with Welson and Crucanelli, by early ’65, JMI settled on the Eko operation in Recanati, Italy. Run by founder Oliviero Pigini, Eko was (according to themselves) the largest and most advanced guitar factory in Europe. It already exported to England and America, and was more than willing to pick up contract work on Vox guitars. In ’66, JMI/Royston, Eko and Thomas entered a partnership named EME, to further Vox production worldwide. Jennings, Benaron, and Pigini all had ambitions for the operation, but the goals were not always the same. Eventually, Thomas and Eko essentially cut JMI out of the loop, running their own pipeline from Italy to the U.S., even while the guitars still carried the tag line “Vox – The British Sound.” What Benaron really cared about was clearly advertised in June, 1965, to U.S. music dealers: “Vox: The Sound Of Money… The top beat groups have made a lot of money with Vox… so can you!” Vox was sold to the public with slightly less crass slogans like “VOX: The Greatest Name In Sound,” “The Sound That Travels with the Stars,” “VOX – King of the Beat,” and most famously, “Vox: It’s What’s Happening.”
Presenting the amazing Voxmobile!
Amplifiers for European sales, and small numbers of guitars, were still made in the U.K., but by the summer of ’65, most guitar production shifted to Eko. Practically all guitars imported into the U.S. after the first wave were of Italian origin, though JMI-made budget instruments like the Shadow, Clubman, and Super Ace seem to have been brought over in some quantity as early stopgaps. U.K.-made guitars imported in 1964-’65 can be seen in the hands of some early users, but Italian examples soon predominate. Thomas’ early-’65 Vox “King Of the Beat” catalog showed a mix of English- and Italian-made models; by the next catalog, it was all Eko product. The Eko/Vox line was extensive, including distinctive JMI originals like the trapezoidal-bodied Phantom line and teardrop-shaped Mark, alongside others “inspired” by the likes of Gibson’s ES-335 and even the Mosrite Ventures model.
Differences between English and Italian interpretations of Vox designs are often small but significant. JMI used at least three subcontractors for guitar necks and results were inconsistent, especially the fretwork. Most JMI necks are one-piece with a rosewood or ebony fingerboard and have a thinner finish, even when the body is swathed in polyester. Eko necks carry heavy poly finishes, but the actual construction and especially fretting are more consistent. Italian necks used maple (originally one piece, later often multi-laminate) with a bound ebony fingerboard and a truss rod adjusted via an easily accessible plug at the body end. This rod was coupled with a metal T-shaped center section under the fingerboard, and has sometimes worked too well over time – some Eko-made Voxes today show neck and fingerboard crack issues where the rod has been overtightened. Still, at the time, the Italian neck seemed a more-reliable improvement. It’s easy to tell the difference – Eko necks have “Made in Italy By Vox” in small print on the back of the headstock.
Win the battle, get a movie contract! Brother James (middle) feels good with Vox. The Banana Splits Vox it up.
Other problems can emerge as the guitars age. Eko’s heavy polyester finishes sometimes crack or check heavily. Unlike JMI versions, the Italian pickguards used an unstable plastic and many have shrunk and warped, though this was not a problem at the time. Much of the hardware was well-made and nearly identical – both used similar Van Gent tuners fitted with stamped metal Vox-branded covers, and Eko copied JMI’s bridge and vibrato designs very closely. An important sonic difference was the pickups; Eko-made units look much like their English antecedents, but produce a thinner sound and weaker output. Most Thomas Vox guitars shipped in a distinctive oblong grey case – attractive, light, and handy, but fairly flimsy, as well with a plastic handle that has an annoying habit of snapping off.
Vox had a ready-made teen market, but Thomas still engaged in energetic promotion, sponsoring Teen Fair and Battle Of the Bands events in California. Thomas’ blatant exploitation of the newly hip “teen” culture seems somehow equally savvy, crass, and somehow endearing almost 50 years on! JMI’s U.K. market strategy of getting gear into the hands of any newly prominent artist proved impossible in the U.S., so Thomas did the next best thing – milking Hollywood connections to get Vox featured on film and TV, sometimes over objections by an endorsee; the Bobby Fuller Four appear in AIP’s Ghost in the Invisible Bikini with a full Vox rig – which a Fender-toting Fuller strongly resented. Bands sometimes appeared on TV with a Vox lineup they likely only saw that day! The Gentrys, Beau Brummels, Seeds, Electric Prunes (who recorded a promo for the Vox wah pedal), local faves the Guilloteens, Dino, Desi and Billy, and many other mostly-L.A.-based acts appeared on TV shows like “Hullabaloo,” “Shindig!,” and “Shebang” with Vox rigs. Garage legends The Standells were sometime Vox endorsers who used their own guitars in their golden movie moment in AIP’s Riot on Sunset Strip (with Vox amps) but the other bands in the film (the Chococolate Watchband and the Enemies) both appear using an identical Violin Bass/Mark VI /Bobcat guitar lineup that was likely part of the set! The Who mimed with matching Vox guitars on the Smothers Brothers show – convenient for Townshend’s smashing routine! As intended, this exposure gave the impression Vox guitars were in much wider use with major groups than was really true!
“Samantha” and a bewitching Vox guitar.
Looking beyond California, Thomas published its own nationally distributed “Vox Teen Beat” newspaper full of propaganda, and expected aggressive promotion from Vox dealers who were encouraged to sponsor local battle-of-the-bands contests and other teen events. The wildest promotional hardware of all was the Voxmobile, built by L.A. customizer George Barris in the shape of a giant Phantom bass. This traveling $30,000 “guit-car” had 32 guitar inputs, three built-in amps, hidden speakers everywhere, and a dual-manual organ on the trunk. Fender somehow missed that idea! For a time, there was even a Vox retail outlet in Hollywood.
Thomas pursued endorsements in the R&B market with Ike and Tina Turner, and most successfully, James Brown, who for a time featured Vox gear on the back of his LPs. “Instruments by… Vox” was an album credit. His band can be seen with Vox lineups in 1967-’68, and it’s interesting to speculate what brother James’ crack players thought about these relatively flimsy instruments replacing their Gibson guitars and Fender bass!
Another unlikely Vox act was Velvet Underground, the seminal New York cult band. While now considered one of rock’s most influential acts, when active they were a commercial non-starter. Still, thanks to the patronage of Andy Warhol, the band received a package of Vox gear in ’66, which can occasionally be spotted in use.
Thomas’ Hollywood connections entered a surreal phase when Samantha Stevens from TV’s “Bewitched” (played by Elizabeth Montgomery) strummed a Vox Apollo with psychedelic paint livery in the 1968 episode “Hippy Hippy Hooray.” By September of that year, the fading brand received its wildest TV endorsement, equipping Hanna-Barbera’s live-action Saturday morning cartoon stars the Banana Splits! The Vox Ultrasonic and Starstream played by Fleegle and Drooper may have been the last nails in Vox’s credibility coffin. Thomas shut the operation down not long after, plagued by a shrinking market, fading sales, and quality issues. From the Beatles and the “World’s Top Beat Groups” to the Banana Splits in just five years – the Vox brand had a uniquely strange journey. The aesthetic of electric music changed rapidly, and by the early ’70s Vox was as uncool as it had been cool in ’64. Still, Vox amps – even some of Thomas’ transistor babies – maintain a devoted following that has only grown over time. The guitars have not fared as well, but have an enduring appeal to some players – at least for their visual style. Next month, we’ll look at some interesting models from this most varied – and storied – line.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The Electro-Harmonix Epitome, Tone Tattoo
Price: $491.84 list (Epitome) and $292.35 list (Tone Tattoo)
Info: www.ehx.com
The concept is smart yet so obvious it’s a wonder no one came up with it sooner. With both the Epitome and the Tone Tattoo, Electro-Harmonix manages to cram three effects into a single housing. Did life just get a whole lot easier?
The Epitome combines EH’s Micro POG (polyphonic octave generator), Stereo Electric Mistress flanger/chorus, and Holy Grail Plus reverb. The Micro POG section adds amazing layers of shine and shimmer with just three knobs: Sub (for the bass octave), Up (for the treble octave), and Dry (to mix in the effect-treated tone). Do the math – that’s the potential to simulate an 18-string guitar. Dial in the Sub and Up octaves to taste and then roll in Dry to add the guitar’s natural tone. It’s like a 12-string guitar with a bass octave tracking perfectly beneath it. This could be especially useful for a solo guitarist. Conversely, just put on the Sub and crank it through a crunchy amp for some seriously wicked metal tones.
The Epitome’s Stereo Electric Mistress allows the user to dial in the rate of the flange and/or chorus (sorry – no tap tempo). These are the famous, fat tones that EH pioneered 35 years ago – everything from Leslie organ sounds to the chorus and flange of The Police, Rush, and Pat Travers. Meanwhile, the Holy Grail digital reverb section provides settings for Spring (classic surf sounds), Hall (big cathedrals), Room (medium ambience), and Flerb (digital-reverb repeats like U2 or country-style).
Of course, the real fun comes when the effects are combined. The Holy Grail’s Shimmer button dials up some amazing ambient drone effects for the experimental/progressive crowd, tweakable for endless, dazzling soundscapes. Ladle in some of the Electric Mistress for lush environments more often associated with synths. It’s difficult to believe these sounds are coming from a stompbox. Bring in the Micro POG and suddenly it’s like surfing through the gates of Olympus. You may not even believe you’re playing a guitar. The Epitome isn’t cheap, but it brings a lot of bang for the buck.
The Tone Tattoo houses more conventional effects than the Epitome, namely EH’s Memory Toy delay, Neo Clone chorus, and Metal Muff distortion – again, in a single box with three footswitches. Moreover, all three effects are analog and completely independent of one other. There’s a world of sounds here, from ’80s rock to ’90s grunge to ’50s slap-back delay to straight-up metal. And, as with the Epitome, the effects will interact in cool ways.
The Memory Toy’s Delay, Feedback, Blend, and Gain controls will help find the perfect echo, from mild to extreme. Analog architecture means a fatter, warmer delay than with digital, but without the articulation. This is a deep, smoky delay tone akin to a tape Echoplex. The Neo-Clone is very simple, with a Rate knob for the speed of the chorus and a Depth button for two choices of analog chorus flavor, while, the Metal Muff is set up a like an amp, with Treble, Bass, Volume, and Drive controls, plus a useful Scoop toggle and a noise Gate button with accompanying Threshold knob. The Scoop has three choices of midrange attenuation, great for thrash-metal setups.
On the gig, the Tone Tattoo proved a great meat ’n’ potatoes pedal, providing essential distortion, chorus, and delay tones. Each effect can be as extreme as anyone could possibly want it, but for straight rockin’, just a dab will do ya – a little overdrive and delay left on all the time, with the chorus kicked on when needed. One debit is difficulty reading the labels on the knobs, especially on a dim stage. The pedal should be set up before the gig and activated via the footswitches when needed.
Adding the Epitome to the signal chain results in a lot of firepower for just two pedals. With the Tone Tattoo holding down the fort, the Epitome becomes a surprise weapon for killer reverb, modulation, and octaver effects (if stereo can be wired into the PA, all the better). The audience won’t have a clue how all those sounds are coming from just two pedals.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Gibson Style J mando-bass. Photos: William Ritter.
Decades before Audiovox or Leo Fender dreamed of making a fretted electric bass, Gibson started manufacturing fretted acoustic mando-basses that were tuned the same as an upright bass.
Joe Spann, author of Spann’s Guide to Gibson 1902-1941 has assembled serial and work-order number information documenting Gibson’s production prior to World War II, which indicates mando-bass production started as early as 1906 and that none were shipped after 1931. The style J mando-bass was offered as late as ’37, but since none have been documented as being shipped after ’31, it’s safe to assume demand must have been very low after the mandolin-orchestra boom subsided. Similarly, the Gibson style U harp guitar was offered in Gibson catalogs as late as ’39, long after production ceased, so it’s not safe to assume that listing in a catalog indicates Gibson was still building it – sometimes, it was merely clearing old inventory. Remaining Gibson ledgers document eight batches of Kalamazoo-branded mando-bass style KJ produced by Gibson between 1935 and ’37, but Spann has examined two Kalamazoo mando-basses with batch numbers from 1933 indicating that they were produced at least that early, but none of the Kalamazoo models appear to have been produced or shipped after ’37.
Style J and a Gibson flat-top.
The Gibson mando-bass resembles a gigantic style A Gibson mandolin with four strings. The instrument is 62″ in total length, has a scale of 423/8″, a body width of 24″ and a body length of 331/2″ making it one of the largest fretted instruments ever offered in the Gibson catalog. The mando-bass was designed for use in mandolin orchestras. Its appearance complements the Gibson mandolin family, with the mandolin tuned the same as a violin, mandola tuned the same as a viola, mandocello tuned the same as a cello, and the mando-bass tuned the same as an upright bass. While the first three have four pairs of strings, the mando-bass has four strings. Its top is carved spruce with an oval soundhole, while the back and sides are birch. The neck is mahogany with an ebony fingerboard. The peghead has “The Gibson” pearl script inlay, and the crossbar is a factory installed armrest. The Kalamazoo mando-bass had f-shaped sound holes rather than an oval soundhole, but was otherwise very similar. Mando-basses have an extension end pin much like an upright bass. They could be played upright with the player standing or with the player seated and instrument in a diagonal position much like a gigantic mandolin.
Spann has located production records that list 39 units, but there were very likely more, since his reconstructed serial number list contains only approximately nine percent of serial number units produced by Gibson prior to 1935. Spann has 100 percent of the serial numbers after 1935, having extracted them from shipping ledgers. While he speculates that as many as 400 mando-basses were produced, so few have emerged compared to other models produced in quantities of a few hundred, that the number was probably not more than 200 and may have been less. We simply do not have truly accurate records for total production. Spann has documented 21 Kalamazoo mando-basses (style KJ) and speculates as many as 40 could have been produced sporadically between 1933 and ’37.
One possible explanation for today’s relative rarity of mando-basses is that they were not offered with hard shell cases, as were the other instruments in the family; Gibson mandolins, mandolas, mandocellos, and guitars with carved tops and backs were relatively expensive instruments in their day, so most buyers opted to get a hardshell case such that we encounter very few of these instruments without a good case, which played a great role in their preservation. A large instrument without a good case is prone to damage. Another factor is that a large, somewhat unwieldy instrument that had gone out of style would take up enough room that people would be more likely to throw it away.
The Gibson mandolin orchestra boom lasted from the very early 1900s through the early ’20s, after which the mandolin orchestra craze died abruptly and Dixieland music took over, resulting in strong sales of tenor and plectrum banjos. Mandolin-family instrument sales plunged and thousands of instruments were retired from service. Many later re-entered the market in old-timey country music and bluegrass, but country musicians (and most pop-music players) who took up the mandolin neglected mandolas and mandocellos. It’s conceivable that some of these musicians would have been interested in mando-basses had they encountered any, but they’re so scarce – especially in playable condition – that one would be hard-pressed to recall a musical group that utilized one after the mandolin-orchestra era.
The Gibson style J mando-bass is a well-crafted, historically significant instrument, worthy of attention from sophisticated collectors and musicians.
This article originally appeared in VG September 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Cynics inclined to dismiss Gretsch’s Roots Collection as a crass ploy to hop aboard the current washboard-rock chuckwagon popularized by the likes of Mumford & Sons and the Avett Brothers will do well to recall that the company’s, well… roots. Gretsch history, after all, extends to late-19th-century Brooklyn, where the company built a reputation producing percussion and acoustic stringed instruments. Considered in this context, it’s no stretch that Gretsch should revisit their own history with a 22-instrument collection evoking that period which predates the Fabs and rockabilly hep cats with whom the marque has been most associated lo these many years.
The Jim Dandy Flat Top is the only guitar entry in the Roots Collection, but Gretsch seized the opportunity create a functional instrument that works hard to resemble what many a player’s first guitar must have looked like 60 years ago. The Dandy’s body is all agathis with a satin-like finish over black back and sides and a Vintage Sunburst top (Gretsch also offers it in Blue Sunburst) with a white pickguard and screened rosette and “binding.” The 24″-scale-length nato neck is capped with an 18-fret rosewood fingerboard and sports a three-by-three headstock with open-geared nickel-plated tuners and a ’50s Gretsch logo (also screened).
Lest all this talk of painted appointments and what many consider econo tonewoods cause more gentle readers to look askance, rest assured these era-specific cosmetics are where the Jim Dandy’s nods to “catalog guitars” of bygone years end. With its X-braced top and compensated saddle, the Dandy puts forth a much warmer and less punchy tone than what one might expect from a parlor-size instrument offered at this price. And needless to say, the guitar’s 13″ lower bout, 12″ fingerboard radius, and short scale length make it super-comfy and a gas to knock around on – the perfect distraction to have lying on the sofa (it is a parlor guitar, after all).
Another six-string entry in the Roots Collection is the Dixie 6, a thoroughly enjoyable “banjar” (or is it “gitjo”?). The Dixie 6 is a great-looking instrument right out of the box, its pearloid-faced headstock with black-button Grover Sta-Tite tuners being the first rubberneckin’ delight. Other guitar-like accoutrements – a maple neck and fingerboard, 25″ scale length, jumbo frets, and a six-strings-wide neck – in concert with a mottled Remo Fiberskyn head, suggest a quaint 19th-century pre-resonator banjo befitting the “1883” legend (year of Gretsch’s founding, natch) that’s applied to the headstock facing. The Dixie 6’s rim and rear resonator, like the neck and fingerboard, are antique-stained maple, and the body has 24 shiny brackets and an armrest.
One caveat: front-porch-swingin’ folk who are lightning-fingered on the six-string and hope the Dixie 6 will have them astounding their slack-jawed pickin’ partners with Scruggs-like three-finger rolls will likely be sorely disappointed. However, the Dixie 6 will allow players to add unmistakably banjo-like textures to informal jam sessions, whether using a drop-thumb or frailing technique, or even attacking the Dixie 6 with a plectrum. The latter results in more robust volume, which is perhaps a bit lacking from the Dixie 6. Regardless, for players hoping to quickly add a little banjo twang to their repertoire on a very shallow learning curve, this instrument is a great option.
The Roots Collection also includes five-string resonator banjos, resonator guitars, A-style mandolins, and even ukuleles. With the Jim Dandy and Dixie 6, Gretsch has done a nice job producing affordable instruments that are functional for after-work and weekend pickers, not to mention aesthetically evocative of bygone eras.
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.
Greg Howe continues to evolve, pushing his artistry into fresh territory. One of the most successful artists on Shrapnel Records, Howe is following his unique vision and has created a catalog built on his unique style and diverse musical interests. With a stack of killer solo records and collaborations with Richie Kotzen, Victor Wooten, Dennis Chambers, and Jason Becker, Howe recently returned to rock with a fiery four-piece band called Maragold.
How did you find Meghan Krauss, the singer in the new band?
She was discovered by my bass player, Kevin Vecchione, in a cover band. He sent me a picture and I thought, “Wow, she looks great!” At the time, I hadn’t considered a female singer – we had a guy in mind, but he ended up getting a gig with Chris Daughtry.
When I got that picture of her, I was thinking, “Hopefully she can sing.” Then they sent some tracks and I was like, “Wow!” She looks great, sounds great, and has a great live presence. She pretty much has everything I look for – the rasp, soul, and nuance. She’s really incredible.
How did you decide on what the band would sound like?
My initial vision was more sophisticated in terms of chord changes and maybe a little bit more Sting-esque, more singer/songwriter. When I got together with Kevin and we started writing, things just started to happen in more of a rock way. I just went with it because it felt like that’s where this was supposed to be going.
There wasn’t really any plan about what musical direction we were going to take. I knew that whatever we were going to create together was going to be something cool – I just didn’t know exactly what it was going to be. Kevin is very similar to me in the sense that he likes everything. We listen to everything from hip-hop to country to classical to metal to jazz. It doesn’t matter, we like all of it.
Were the songs written with Meghan’s voice in mind?
She did help inspire the direction, but a lot of the songs had already been developed before she came on board. When I heard her voice, it inspired me to write music that would lend itself to maximize her thing. Half the album was written after she came on board.
Did you record together as a band?
In some cases we did basic tracks together, and in some cases I would go back and re-do the guitars. Sometimes, the basic tracks were done for the purpose of getting the rhythm section together. In some instances, some things came out perfect with me, the bass player, and the drummer. A lot of what was originally intended to be reference guitar tracks ended up being real tracks. When I would go back to track the “real” guitar, sometimes it wouldn’t have the vibe that went down as a reference track.
This album is a departure for you in terms of guitar tone.
I broke out a lot of single-coil stuff. I used a couple of my standard Strats, and I’ve been working with Laguna on an all-single-coil version of the LE924 I play. I ended up using the DiMarzio Area series pickups, which are genuine-sounding and noiseless. They were phenomenal. The LE924 has a Super Switch that gets a lot of spanky Tele tones, particularly in the 2nd and 4th positions even though there are only two pickups. As many albums as I have done, I haven’t done a lot of that, and I love that stuff. It was a fun opportunity to reveal a different side of my playing.
When you tour, what’s going to be your amp of choice?
I’m developing a signature amp with DV Mark, which is based in Italy. It’s a very organic, natural, straightforward amp – not a lot of bell and whistles. Essentially, it’s 40 watts, and I wanted the output tubes to play a big role. We decreased gain in the front end and quickened the response time of the signal to the preamp tube. It sends a clearer, louder signal to the output stage driving the tubes. In the end, 6L6s worked best because they had a nice balance of compression and clarity. In a perfect world I’ll have a combination of my signature amp and a power amp handling the Axe-Fx, to let me access all the tones quickly.
What’s next for Maragold?
We’re planning a tour and talking with management companies to see if we should end up on a label. Luckily, with my fan base we can go out and do a successful tour.
This article originally appeared in VG September 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
In the early ’70s, women didn’t play rock guitar. Nor did they front bands. Nancy Wilson was an exception. Few guitarists present as memorable an onstage image as does Wilson brandishing her famous custom-color Fender Telecaster onstage with Heart, the band she co-founded with her sister, Ann, in 1974. One of the biggest bands of the ’70s and ’80s, Heart has sold more than 30 million records, scored 22 Top 40 hits, and sold out arenas worldwide.
The Wilson sisters’ influence has kept them relevant. They appeared on last winter’s “VH1 Divas Salute The Troops,” their work can be heard on several commercial soundtracks, and of course, they are ever-present on classic-rock radio. Further evidence of their impact lies in the fact the sisters were recently recognized for their songwriting by the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers (A.S.C.A.P.), which honored them with its Founders Award. In 2010, Heart released its 13th studio album, Red Velvet Car, which debuted at #10 on the Billboard Top 200 and #3 on the Rock Albums chart. It became the band’s first top 10 album since Brigade, which was released two full decades before, and scored Adult Contemporary hit singles with “WTF” and “Hey You” despite an approach lauded by critics as having no blatant commercial aspiration, instead harkening to the band’s ’70s sound and groove.Despite monumental success and such accolades, Wilson remains driven by a burning passion for rock-and-roll guitar.
Wilson had her ’68 Gibson SG Junior modified with an older Bigsby, graphite saddles, and a Kent Armstrong pickup.
Do you come from a musical family?
Ann and I started singing way before we were ever in a band. My family is very musical, our aunts and uncles, mom and dad, and grandparents had ukuleles and would sing old Irish pub songs, silly little tunes, even vaudeville stuff from the ’20s. So we just grew up with a lot of musical hams in our family! As kid, we’d put on little shows and productions – we’d lip-sync to our favorite records or play the piano or ukulele. When the family would drive across the country to visit grandma or whatever, we’d sing in the car.
After we saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan – which dates us just a little bit – it really made a spark. We had to learn to play guitars from that moment forward, and start making bands and playing outside of the living room and the church and the school. We started playing for money and trying to write songs. From that point forward, we were just driven to be as much like the Beatles as we could be. We were too young to think, “We should be the girlfriends of the Beatles. We just wanted to be the Beatles, you know? It was kind of before puberty, and Mom and Dad really encouraged us. I took to the guitar like a duck to water. The light bulb went on, lightning struck, and I got good really fast!
Do you remember your first guitar?
My grandmother gave Ann a nice guitar, and I was like, “Please, I gotta have a good guitar, too!” So they bought me a cheapie 3/4-size Lyle made of plywood with a sunburst finish. Somebody forgot to glue down the bridge, so it was impossible to play. And it had a pipe for a neck, so you couldn’t barre an F chord – but, in trying, my hands got very, very strong. Thankfully, I knew the difference between my bad guitar and Ann’s nylon-string better guitar, because I would have given up! But, it was 30 bucks, and my parents wanted to see if I was serious, which obviously, I was…
Who was your first “Guitar Hero”?
Well, there was the Beatles, obviously. Ann sort of had Paul taken, because, you know, girls had to have their favorite Beatle! So I had gravitated between John and George and learned all their guitar parts. Ann picked up a bass, got an imitation Höfner and a little tiny student amp, and we’d rock out and pretend we were the Beatles, all the way up to the English accents! We really wanted it bad… We learned every Beatles song!
A prototype for the Martin HD-35 Nancy Wilson model.
What was the first concert you ever went to?
In 1966, we had a group of four girls called The Viewpoints. We learned a bunch of Beatles songs and a lot of harmony-driven songs from the radio. We went to see the Beatles wearing uniforms our Mom made that matched the Beatles’. We were definitely serious about the Beatles, and still are! So in 1966, we saw the Beatles at the Seattle Coliseum. The screams were deafening! We were there with our opera glasses, and we were the only girls in the place who weren’t screaming. It was very exciting, it was one of the last shows they played, it was really cool!
After that, we started going to more rock shows; I saw Zeppelin open for Sonny and Cher. We were just kids and we were so shocked, because it was so suggestive!
How and when did you begin performing?
Well, we played a bunch of little places as The Viewpoints, including a drive-in theatre. We got guys who had equipment – drums and a bass – but it was really difficult to get gigs. We played a couple of high-school dances and church youth-group things, but there was no “real” band until Ann joined one. I couldn’t play clubs at the time because I was underage, so she went off in to a real rock outfit, and I played acoustic for awhile. Later, I joined her band in Vancouver, which was doing really well in the cabarets there. I went to college for a bit, but knew I was going to eventually join Ann’s band. When we got together, it was writing songs, going in the studio, playing clubs, and traveling across Canada.
Nancy uses this Martin DC-PA1 with an Aura pickup to play the megahit “Alone” in the live set.
What led you to quit college and join Ann’s band?
Well, I wanted to experience the university because I wanted to learn stuff. I knew I’d never graduate because I just wanted to take cool classes and get the experiences, away from Ann for a while, before I joined them and saw the world. I sensed we would never really look back and I’d never have another opportunity to experience such things. That’s how it felt to me, and it was kind of true… We were not afraid to think big – we were young, optimistic, and very hard-working.
What was the Vancouver music scene like in the early ’70s?
There was a lot of different music, a lot of clubs, which they call “cabarets.” The drinking age was lower, so our friends would come up from Seattle to see us. Ann’s band was the #1 cabaret act in Vancouver when I joined. A lot of dues were being paid, and I joined right in with the dues paying, right off the bat! Within a year and a half after I joined the band, the first album, Dreamboat Annie, came out.
Did you have any idea what was about to happen with Dreamboat Annie?
We knew it was good; we’d made ourselves happy with the way it sounded. The original mixing desk at the Mushroom Records studio had come from a famous Muscle Shoals studio – all that great Booker T. stuff was recorded on it – and it really sounded amazing! That record became an audiophile’s favorite, all the frequencies were there, it was very rich and full-sounding. A lot of digital recordings today are too top heavy, and there’s so much missing that we don’t even realize it anymore.
Prior to working with Martin on her signature model, Wilson made heavy use of this Takamine NP-16A.
Any special memories from making that first album?
I remember it taking off as soon as it was released. We made it with an independent Canadian label, Mushroom Records, because major labels turned us down – twice. So we were very much like Loretta Lynn in Coal Miner’s Daughter, where they just went in the car to every single radio station. Those early albums were exciting to make, because it was a real studio and we were allowed to make a real album. Ann and I used to play around recording on our daddy’s Sony reel-to-reel, but this was a real control room with an isolation booth and double-glass windows, and it just felt like the coolest thing on earth. There was no cutting and pasting, unless it was done with a razor blade and tape, so you had to really commit to a take – there was no fixing it later, you had to get it right, on the spot. If you had to splice anything in, you were sweating bullets! Sometimes, you’d play the same song 10 or 15 times, and not feel the magic. So you’d go have lunch or go outside and play basketball. Then you’d come back and get it. Because all this ephemeral, ethereal magic you’re chasing doesn’t just happen unless everyone is in the same spot at the same time. Today, you can construct things and layer things, but you can tell the difference when there’s a band playing real music live in the studio. There’s energy. We used to take amps, guitars, mixers, and go to the beach. We’d set it up in houses where we’d write and record songs to tape. I was the engineer and roadie for all those songwriting sessions, hauling stuff around.
Once you’ve done that, it’s like, “Okay, you’ll earn it now.” You really care about getting it done, instead of “Oh, I can decide later what to cut and paste.”
This Zemaitis acoustic is sister Ann Wilson’s primary stage guitar, which she uses on “These Dreams,” “Dog and Butterfly,” and” “Sand.”
In the mid ’90s, you took five years to concentrate on raising your family. During this time, you were able to compose the musical scores for several well-known films. How did that experience broaden your musical perspective and songwriting?
I actually learned a lot about music by scoring movie scenes where there’s dialogue and things are happening on the screen, and the music basically needs to support what’s happening onscreen. It’s an exercise in less is more; simplifying and spreading it out, slowing it down and playing fewer notes, having more space in the music. In a way, if you disappear but you’re still there – you’re almost not there – then you’ve done your job. If you’re feeling it but not hearing it, then you’ve done your job well.
I took a lot of that with me into my songs. Instead of playing muscular, proving-it-all-the-time things where you cram in notes, it’s what you leave out that can be just as – if not more – meaningful. It’s about the spaces between the notes.
What’s it like to work with your big sister all these years?
Ann’s voice… it’s just a freak of nature! There’s something undeniable about a voice like that, and it doesn’t come along very often. We come from a military family, and we’ve always had that ethic; we pull up our socks and we troop onward! Along with our sister, Lynn, the three of us lead our family now, our parents are gone and we’re still trooping. We’ve never stopped to consider excess drama as an option. If anyone’s having feelings or opinions, we put it out there and work it out, get past it and do our jobs. I think we really lucked out with our whole family support system; we just don’t have all that extra drama to slow us down.
Wilson has used this Japanese-copy mandolin since 1974.
What do you still love about the guitar?
I’ve just always loved the guitar. The guitar has always been my significant other, my husband… I’m married to my guitar. And I was from the minute I started to play. When I was a kid, I actually took the first good guitar I had to bed with me. I remember thinking, “Darn, this isn’t very comfortable.” But I was so committed!
I think the guitar is one of the best friends you’ll ever have. It’s your confidant, and it’ll tell you what you want to hear. But it’s not a “yes” man! It won’t tell you things that aren’t real. You can’t fake it with a guitar…. Well, I guess there is a lot of guys who do, but I’ve never been one of those fakers! I could play a barrage of notes, but I can’t impress myself that way. The guitar is a reflection of what you put in to it, giving back what you give it, just like life. Put the love in, get the love out!
Given your profession, do you grab a guitar for relaxation?
I play a bit, yeah. When I do sit down and play the piano or guitar at home, it’s a healing grace – a place to exhale and regroup.
How have your instrument preferences changed, over the course of your career?
I’ve always been a fan of vintage because I’m an analog girl – a vintage kind of girl! Those have always been the better sounds. You can hear the dirt and the time and experience in the wood. The wood itself has molecularly aligned itself musically, so there’s a magic that happens with vintage, experienced instruments. Guitars are eternal, they’re my religion.
What do you find more difficult to create, lyrics or music?
Lyrics are more difficult to pull out of yourself, especially good ones that are not too personal or too corny. It’s a tough line to walk.
Wilsons’s ’63 Fender Telecaster has a PAF humbucker in the neck, a single-coil in the bridge, and Bourns pots.
Do you have a favorite guitar?
I don’t. I go through “favorite” guitars all the time. I have a few at home that I cherish – my old Sunrise acoustic that was custom built for me in ’76 by Ed Myronic in Vancouver. That’s one of my all-time favorites. It was there with me at the beginning, it sounds great, and it’s done a lot of scoring with me. It’s a really good studio friend. I did most of my big film scores with that guitar.
And I have the new prototype Martin, which is really great; there’s a brand new “old soul” in my house!
What about your famous Lake Placid Blue Tele?
I’d always had that exact guitar in my head – that color on that guitar was an icon for me. It’s been the main electric in my life since the early ’80s – my all-around go-to guy! I love the Tele thing in general, more than the Strat thing. As a player, I come from an acoustic rock/rhythm place. I play acoustic in a much more aggressive rock style. For me, it’s almost a rhythm thing – part drum – and a Tele can handle that approach better than most guitars. It holds up to my overplaying, so it’s a good transitional electric for me.
Were you surprised at how well Red Velvet Car was received by fans and the press?
It came out higher on Billboard than any of our albums ever – at #10. We couldn’t have been happier about that, because we’d been working pretty hard on it for a long time (laughs)!
Wilson’s acoustic-amp rig uses two Orange 4120 cabinets with Celestion Vintage 30 speakers. They were painted black at Wilson’s request during the Night at Sky Church DVD shoot. The amps are Trace Elliot TA200 models with neodymium speakers.
What can you tell us about the new record you’re working on?
A really great producer can always make it feel like a first take. That’s what we love about Ben Mink, our producer for Red Velvet Car and the new record we’re working on with him. He has the same work ethic – we write stuff in the same room together, then when we push that red button to record, we’re just trying to find it on the spot and get that excitement of that feeling when we first did it. We’re going for a more rock-and-roll, harder-edged thing, so I’ll probably be playing more electric than acoustic. Red Velvet Car had a more-aggressive acoustic and rock sound, but I think we’re going for even more rock tones on this new one.
Wilson has used these Bruce-Zinky-designed Fender Tonemaster amps onstage since 2003.
What did it mean to you and Ann to be presented with the A.S.C.A.P. Founder’s Award?
We couldn’t have been more thrilled to be recognized for our songwriting, especially when we’re out there in the big world with people like Paul Simon and Joni Mitchell – incredible writers who came out of our generation and even before. It meant the world to us. It also renewed our inspiration to keep writing, because sometimes you tell yourself “Nobody listens, nobody cares.” Being acknowledged for something more than just hair or makeup or videos from the ’80s keeps us going.
In this business, the biggest challenges are personal. I’ve tried to balance all that out, as a woman and a mother, especially, and managed to be in a rock band all at the same time. There are not really a lot of bands like Heart, we don’t fit any mold, and never have. We’re a real rock band, a hard-working rock outfit. We blazed the trail, and I hope to see more girls in rock bands defy those odds and do it, too.
This article originally appeared in VG October 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Ronnie Montrose (left) and Ricky Phillips onstage in the early 2000s. Montrose/Phillips: Bill Towner.
Ricky Phillips has many fond memories of his friendship and musical association with Ronnie Montrose (1947-2012). The bassist is finishing a recording project by the late guitarist on which he had participated prior to joining Styx.
Montrose and Phillips met in the early ’80s, but didn’t collaborate until 20 years later, when Montrose needed a bassist.
“Chuck Wright recommended me as his replacement after he went on the road with Alice Cooper,” Phillips said. “We dug into the Montrose material and played the hell out of it – got to the point where arrangements changed by a mere glance from Ronnie and we’d go face-to-face, trading riffs.
“New song ideas began to emerge from that interaction; it was like being back in the ’70s, with free-form jamming using Montrose material as the constant.”
Drummer Eric Singer settled into the percussion position between gigs with Kiss and Alice Cooper. In late 2003, Phillips got the call from Styx. By the time he departed, however, the three had recorded several tracks in a unique manner…
“We loaded in our gear with the premise to catch a vibe and keep everything analog, as pure as possible, with no click tracks and no overdubs,” he said. “In other words, if we liked the vibe of a take and there were subtle mistakes or imperfections, so be it. Some tracks were barely discussed before we laid them down, never rehearsed, and performed only that once, while they were being recorded.”
Phillips is now completing those tracks as a tribute to Montrose.
“Since taking over production, I’ve listened to the tracks many times. I thought they were good back then, but they sound better than I recalled. Ronnie’s approach was spot-on. He knew advances in technology were becoming a crutch, and didn’t want it to alter the work and dilute the brew.
“Now, my focus is to carry on with Ronnie’s wishes.”
The concept, as named by Montrose, was 10/10 – 10 songs with 10 singers. Some vocals were recorded more than a decade ago, while others were recent. “Ten years in the making,” Phillips reflected. “Maybe we should call it 10/10/10.”
Numerous guitarists are also contributing.
“Ronnie wasn’t able to get to all of his solos or do any incidental rhythm overdubs, so my job lately has been to find guitarists and singers Ronnie loved, to complete the project. So far, Joe Bonamassa, Marc Bonilla, Rick Derringer, Tommy Shaw, Brad Whitford, Mark Farner, Joe Elliot, Leslie West, and Dave Meniketti have helped. The one connection I’m being insistent on is that we use the guys Ronnie was into, and had talked about.
“He loved this project,” Phillips added. “When he was sick, he didn’t pick up his guitar for two years. But, before he died, he started talking about it again, and was excited about finishing, excited about the future.”
Two months after Montrose’s passing from cancer, Phillips participated in a memorial concert for him. He remembers getting the call from Montrose’s widow, Leighsa.
“I was definitely going to be there. Neal Schon and Steve Smith were in, and we decided to do something together. I think Steve suggested ‘Open Fire,’ which he recorded with Ronnie, and of course, Ronnie’s masterpiece arrangement of ‘Town Without Pity.’ Ed Roth played keys on it, and did a fantastic job; he and Ronnie were very close.
“I hadn’t worked with Neal since our Bad English days, and I hadn’t played with Steve since we used to jam when the Babys and Journey toured together.”
The event (a DVD of which was released in late 2013) included reunions of the mid-’70s Montrose band (with Sammy Hagar as lead vocalist) and his later band, Gamma.
“The Montrose set was very strong,” Phillips said. “Sammy never disappoints. And the Gamma set was great stuff; Marc Bonilla really captured the intensity of Ronnie at that time in his career.”
Other guitarists at the event included Joe Satriani, Jeff Watson, Tommy Thayer, and Frank Hannon.
“I thought Frank did a great job on ‘Frankenstein,’” Phillips noted. “Everybody was good, but Frank’s guitar work, mimicking the synthesizers, was pretty cool. No one was given any time to really fine-tune anything, and I commend everyone who showed up at this event and cared enough to devote their time to the memory of Ronnie Montrose. To get on that stage and perform in a kamikaze back-line format is tough to do. I think everybody did great, and I was proud of them all.”
Phillips is focused on completing the 10/10/10 project, and notes that he’s doing his best to do what Montrose would have done.
“I need to feel I have his blessing on each decision or that he would approve, and feel we’re still on track,” the bassist said.
This article originally appeared in VG August 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Jack Bruce: courtesy of Esoteric Recordings.Bassist/vocalist Jack Bruce, who turned 71 in May, recently released Silver Rails, his first solo album in a decade, with songwriting help from several longtime collaborators.
Bruce recruited numerous guitarists for the project, as well one of his offspring, and the results exemplify the styles of the participants.
“I was thrilled that all of the guitarists I wanted agreed to do it,” Bruce said. “From Phil Manzanera to Robin Trower to Uli Jon Roth and Bernie Marsden – all of them were unsurpassable for their individual tracks. I also love my son Malcolm’s beautiful solo on “Don’t Look Now.’”
Recorded at Abbey Road Studios, there was also a family connection in the location.
“My daughter, Kyla, who is a director, was having the premiere of a film, and there I met Rob Cass, Abbey Road’s in-house producer,” he enthused. “He suggested I make the album at Abbey Road, and I jumped at the chance!
“Pete Brown [wrote] the lyrics on seven songs, I wrote ‘Drone’ myself, and Kip Hanrahan and my wife, Margrit, co-wrote one song each with me,” he detailed.
Two cohorts from Bruce’s previous album, Spectrum Road, participated, and he recalled a unique moment in the studio with Uli Jon Roth.
“[Keyboardist] John Medeski and [drummer] Cindy [Blackman Santana] were touring Europe – not together – so it was relatively easy to get them [to Abbey Road] for a day,” he detailed. “When Cindy and me were working with Uli Jon Roth, we took a short break, and after a while I said we should get back to work, as we were running out of time. Uli remarked, ‘Time is a concept best not considered!’”
The music on Silver Rails is as varied as the personnel. “Candlelight” could emanate from a smoky jazz club, “Reach for the Night” is a slow blues, “Fields of Forever” is a straight-ahead rocker, and the vocals from “Hidden Cities” almost belong in a stage play.
The anchor riff of “Rusty Lady” references Cream’s “Politician.”
“I think it’s fine if people recognize the relationship,” he said. “They’re two sides of the same coin.”
The album’s final track, “No Surrender,” is the heaviest.
“I’m finally exhorting myself never to give up the struggle because, ultimately, the struggle is all we have,” Bruce said of the song.
He’ll add some of the songs to the repertoire of another of his projects, Jack Bruce and his Big Blues Band.
“I think they’ll sound great,” he said enthusiastically.
Warwick is offering a second Jack Bruce signature bass that is decidedly different from the original; the Survivor bears a resemblance to the ’50s Gibson EB-3 he used with Cream in the 1960s, and it can be heard on Silver Rails.
“I used it, my favorite Brazilian-rosewood Warwick fretless, and the EB.”
Asked about retiring, Bruce sloughs off the notion.
“It would be nice to slow down a bit and enjoy the house I just bought on Majorca,” he reflected. “But who knows what’s around the corner? That’s what makes life exciting!”
This article originally appeared in VG August 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
