Moths and butterflies are admirably, amazingly adaptable in flight. I mean, imagine you weigh mere milligrams. You’re trucking along, minding your own business, and a 45 mph gust blows you straight into the path of a garbage truck. As a moth, you have to be ready for anything. I’ve been in a lot of jams like that. The Moth Electric C. Regalis would have been a perfect companion.
The C. Regalis (the name honors the largest moth, by mass, found north of Mexico, making the moth in my earlier metaphor seem pretty lame) derives its own adaptability from blendable drive and clean tones. There’s nothing revolutionary about that idea. But the C. Regalis has a drive section that sounds great and is very versatile by itself and makes the whole very special. It has a flexible +/-15dB treble-and-bass EQ and a smooth/crunch switch that functions, more or less, exactly as advertised by adding even-order harmonics. The many possible tones from the drive section can, in turn, be compounded exponentially with the dirty/clean blend. All this room to roam in the controls means C. Regalis isn’t encumbered by a rigid agenda. It cares little about whether you use a Jaguar or an SG, a Fender Deluxe Reverb or a Marshall. The C. Regalis is eager to please. And it’s hard to imagine a player that couldn’t find a sound, or 30, to love in this pedal.
Master of Metamorphosis
Overdrive pedals, even lovable, essential, invaluable ones, can be pretty boring. And I can’t remember the last time I thought of an overdrive as a songwriting machine. But the C. Regalis is varied, forgiving, and intuitive in ways that facilitate fast movement between tones and make morphing between mere sounds and more concrete musical ideas fluid and effortless. There are many springboards and templates to work from too: Randomly choosing pedal settings, I bounced between sweet, toppy clean boost, hot treble-boosted tones, tweed Deluxe haze, Stonesy grime (’60s and ’70s versions), Dinosaur Jr. grind, and Sabbath sludge—and that was with a single guitar and amp.
Not surprisingly, for an overdrive and distortion with a clean blend control, there are strong hints of Klon, and I found many comparable tones in the C. Regalis and my fave klone at many settings. But the C. Regalis is also generally airer and less compressed than the klone, which translates to a lot of headroom and range. That range can reveal potential in the amps and guitars you already have. A few examples: I turned a raspy P-90 and Marshall combination into deep, pillowy Kevin Shields smoke. A Telecaster and vintage Vibrolux bellowed like a plexi, then ripped lines of treble-boosted acid twang. Curtis Novak Wide Range pickups in a Telecaster Deluxe plus the Moth sounded good with … everything. And I don’t remember encountering undesirable combinations that couldn’t be fixed with a simple, quick adjustment to the pedal or guitar controls (the C. Regalis is also highly responsive to guitar volume and tone attenuation).
The Verdict
Moth Electric’s C. Regalis is a really lovely, thoughtfully designed drive unit. At $179, it’s also a deal. The controls are smooth, precise, and situated in a clean, clear, and straightforward layout. And the simple, spacious design makes it easy to move between drastically different tones, mid-performance, without feet or presets. (Yes, bending over mid-jam kinda sucks, but if you don’t have enough time to pull this off, you’re probably playing too many notes.)
There are, of course, specific drive sounds that the C. Regalis can’t recreate. But it was hard to find any sizable holes in its performance envelope. And it can convincingly approximate almost any pedal, and many amps, at anywhere along the clean-boost to mid-gain distortion spectrum. If you chase specific pedal tones at super-granular levels, the C. Regalis might not always hit the mark. But if you’re out to craft a tone of your own that’s rooted in the organic, analog, vintage realm, C. Regalis has a very high likelihood of delivering.
A Canada-built, tastefully styled mini jumbo serves up comfort, a unique and expansive tone profile, and addictive playability.
Godin may be a Canadian company that skews modern in its design approach. But staring across the room at the new Godin Connaisseur MJ, glowing in soft spring sunlight, I kept thinking about two very classic American guitar companies. Martin and Rickenbacker are famous for very different things, and one of them rarely made acoustic instruments. But check out the Godin’s sunburst finish—it sure reminds me of Rickenbackerfireglo. The herringbone-patterned purling evokes that found on a D-28 as well as Rickenbacker’s checkerboard binding. The split-hexagon fretboard inlay? It conjures thoughts of aD-45, and Rickenbacker’s shark-fins. There are practical reasons that this Godin feels like an alternate-universe offspring from the two American companies—most notably the super-satisfying playability. Hermann Rorschach might have told me I’m more inclined to see and feel these likenesses in the Connaisseur MJ (I’m genuinely captivated by the beauty of Rickenbackers and Martins). But style is a big part of what sets the Connaisseur MJ apart, and you don’t need an inkblot test to know that the Godin Connaisseur MJ is a handsome, well-built, and fine-playing flattop. It’s a guitar that reveals its virtues quickly and easily.
Maple Leaf Rag
Consider another unorthodox melding of concepts: “mini” and “jumbo.” Obviously, they are a contradiction in terms. But as an acoustic guitar design guideline, the combination can yield pure gold. The jumbo in mini jumbo (MJ in Godin nomenclature) alludes to the body’s basic shape which, in its fluid curvaceousness, echoes Gibson’s SJ-200. But while the Connaisseur MJ isn’t a behemoth like the SJ-200, it’s not exactly mini either, and feels much more like a shapelier Martin OM. It’s a very comfortable profile that does much to alleviate the arm fatigue that can come from wrestling a dreadnought or genuinely jumbo jumbo.
At $2,499 the Canada-built Connaisseur MJ is Godin’s most expensive flattop by several hundred dollars. And at that price it has to tussle with giants like Martin, Gibson, and Taylor—all of whom sell very established and well-known models in a crowded market segment that most of us could call “getting expensive enough to hurt.” So, what distinguishes the Godin in a densely populated field? Well, it’s certainly pretty, and the melding of classic flattop design touchstones and contemporary styling moves achieves a unique, attractive result rather than an uncomfortable, incohesive mash up of influences.
Golden Glow
In the sonic sphere, theConnaisseur MJ exhibits many classic spruce-and-mahogany characteristics. The warm, concise fundamentals, sunset-hued, softly decaying overtones, and lack of brashness are all hallmarks of this tonewood combination. But the Godin definitely doesn’t live on the dusty, dry, and antique end of the mahogany-and-spruce spectrum. It’s alive and dynamic and responsive in ways you might even categorize as “modern,” and has ample headroom that leaves space for shifts in mood and intensity without shedding its essential voice. It’s easy to be struck by the Connaisseur MJ’s sparkle, especially when you use a light fingerstyle touch. But as I got to know the guitar, I grew to love the balance and resonance in the low end. I suspect that the mini jumbo body, and perhaps the 25.5" scale, have a lot to do with the Godin’s even, inviting voice and range. There is a beautiful combination of energy and air, even in the most softly plucked notes, and it’s easy to see how the extra expanse of spruce aft of the bridge might have a lot to do with how lively and rich the Godin sounds.
“The Godin definitely doesn’t live on the dusty, dry, antique end of the mahogany-and-spruce spectrum. It’s alive and dynamic and responsive in ways you might even categorize as ‘modern.’”
All the tone in the world doesn’t mean much if a guitar plays like a log. But the Connaisseur MJ shines in the playability realm. A few less-than-perfectly-dressed fret ends aside, the neck is addictively comfortable. If there’s a lot of Richard Thompson hammer-ons and pull-offs in your own playing vernacular, you’ll love the snappy touch responsiveness.
The Verdict
The biggest compliment I can offer the Connaisseur MJ is the considerable time I spent with it in a meditative musical state—thinking not about a review, just basking in its warm, sprightly resonance and inviting touch response. At $2,499, the Godin arguably offers more personality than a satin-finished instrument at the same price with a more famous name. It’s well built and feels like a guitar that’s in it for the long haul. And when it comes to tone and a pure playing experience, the Connaisseur MJ shines.
Like so many pedals that became legends, the Klon Centaur spawned legions of copies and imitators that possess unique virtues all their own. You can now count Keeley’s new Manis among the Klon-inspired stomps that took a great idea and shaped something uniquely awesome in the process. As far as klones go, it’s a great one. Tested alongside a very accurate klone that I use as a benchmark in Klon tests (it was A/B tested with a real-deal Klon once owned by my colleague Joe Gore), the Manis was virtually a mirror image, and often a more satisfying one for its slightly less compressed voice.
One of the most practical attributes of good Klon-style pedals is the relative ease with which they pair with very different rigs. The circuit’s inherent ability to span mellow boost and ferocious, chugging distortion while maintaining dynamic response and detail makes it an invaluable tool for coping with luck-of-the-draw backlines and adjusting to venues of varying size. With options to use germanium transistor clipping and a bass boost, however, Manis multiplies this multifacetedness considerably.
The Deadly Manis
Germanium clipping diodes are, of course, among the most critical parts of the original Klon’s architecture, and the Manis sounds beautiful and accurate in germanium-diode mode. But when germanium transistors take over the clipping function, the character of the pedal changes perceptibly. The Manis is audibly and tangibly less compressed, there’s more air and space in the output, and it’s easier to summon extra grit from your signal by changing pick intensity. You might hear a little less focus in germanium transistor mode, which can adversely affect the pedal’s ability to slot in a busier mix. But in isolation, the germanium transistor clipping sounds and feels much more awake and dynamic. The ability to switch between the two also makes the Manis more versatile when stacking with fuzz and other overdrives, and merely flipping between clipping modes could significantly recast the personalities of Big Muffs, Fuzz Faces, and even other klones without diluting their essence.
“The Manis is audibly and tangibly less compressed, there’s more air and space in the output, and it’s easier to summon extra grit from your signal by changing pick intensity.”
Switching in the bass boost, which gives the Manis a 3 dB kick one octave below the circuit’s usual cutoff frequency, also adds a significant breadth to your available tone spectrum. It can lend warmth to the most authentically Klon-like voices in germanium diode mode, or lend an almost Marshall-like sense of oomph to a signal without compromising much in the way of dynamics.
Ultimate Klon Killer? The Keeley Manis Overdrive Demo with John Bohlinger | First Look
The Verdict
If the Manis was merely a klone that hewed close to its inspiration, it would be an admirably authentic example of the breed. But the bass boost and transistor clipping modes make the Manis a potentially invaluable survival tool for any player that faces changing amplifiers, venues, and recording situations, and needs to extract the most utility possible from every pedal. It might well be the only klone you ever need.
Wanna talk about rabbit holes? Well, few are deeper or darker than one that awaits when you compare the virtues, shortcomings, and construction peculiarities of Big Muffs. Make no mistake, I love the things. And studying real, audible differences among Big Muff variants is fun. But I would happily take back many hours I’ve spent contrasting Ram’s Head, Triangle, and Sovtek versions, and their clones—all to arrive at the conclusion that they all sound awesome in their own right. One dude that has spent about a million hours dissecting Muff tone minutiae is EarthQuaker Devices founder Jamie Stillman. Hisefforts to reverse engineer his pal Dan Auerbach’s unique-sounding Sovtek Muff begat theHoof, which remains among EarthQuaker’s most enduring and successful products.
Just as Auerbach’s Muff possessed a certain something missing in otherwise identical Sovteks, so it was with a Version-6 (V6) Electro-Harmonix Big Muff used by James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem for his band’s fuzz-bass tones. As 40-something pedals will, Murphy’s V6 Big Muff got a bit fussy for tour life, so Stillman and EQD were tasked with crafting a replacement. But like so many vintage pedals that have become notorious and legendary, Murphy’s V6 Big Muff is distinguished by construction inconsistencies that made it a quirky and unique thing.
EQD’s interpretation of this formula—made manifest here in the Chelsea Low End Fuzz Driver—is a Big Muff-style voice that leans more Ram’s Head than Sovtek. In strictly sonic terms, that means lots of grind, presence, and a delectable balance between air and aggression that make the Chelsea soar. Like a vintage V6 Big Muff, it features a tone-bypass switch which removes the tone pot entirely. The midrange-heavy result is appealing and impressive in its own punky way. But the rangeful tone control, and the oxygenated sounds that live in its treblier zones, in particular, are highlights of the pedal’s vocabulary that make it distinctive.
As the “Low End Fuzz Driver” handle and Murphy’s historically bass-oriented usage suggest, the Chelsea’s tone profile is a great tool for crafting gnarly, nasty, bottom-end sounds that have a trace of almost saxophone-like honk and grit on top of mere mass—a sound composite that gives bass and baritone riffs lift and definition. But as sweetly and swaggeringly as the Chelsea gels with bass, guitarists will find it a source of rich and blistering tones, and a distinctive alternative to early Triangle-, Ram’s Head-, and V6-style Big Muff sounds.
Xotic Effects newest version of the Vox-flavored AC Booster, the AC Booster V2, adds a second, footswitchable boost circuit (tweakable via a small, clear knob tucked among the four main-channel controls), plus a set of four DIP switches on the box’s righthand side which engage compression, modern or classic voicing, low-mid boost, and high-mid boost.
This new suite of features packs significant extra functionality into V2’s still-diminutive enclosure. The Vox sounds are all there, and with the high-mids juiced and treble nudged, you’re squarely in clanging Top Boost territory. The modern voicing trades some furry mid-range chunk for a bit more aggression and clarity, while the compression is useful for leveling leads and smoothing out unruly playing.
The boost knob is a little difficult to access, situated as it is in the center of the primary four-knob array. I don’t have particularly big fingers, but even I had trouble twiddling it. That’ll annoy some. But it’s a small price to pay for such a pedalboard-friendly footprint. The boost doses you with a healthy bump in level and gain that’s great for stand-out leads and solos. And speaking of standing out, the upper-mid boost switch is a treat. I found that creating a greater disparity between the high mids from the low mids made for a more precise and satisfying tone-shaping experience than I would experience using a standard mids knob.
There are no shortage of pedals that ape Vox AC30 mojo, but I haven’t seen many that will give you the range of utility that the AC Booster V2 will, for less for $200. Xotic nailed a smart and versatile redesign here.