
Hiatus Kaiyote are, from left to right, drummer Perrin Moss, bassist Paul Bender, keyboardist Simon Mavin, and singer-guitarist Nai Palm.
The Melbourne-based soul quartet used layered bass tracks, a pointy headstock guitar, old solid-state amps, samples, countermelodies, strange syncopations, and a Brazilian composer to create the complex and colorful Mood Valiant.
According to Paul Bender—bassist for the trippy yet eminently soulful Melbourne-based quartet, Hiatus Kaiyote—the band's live sets often meld into one continuous song. "I never really get a break in the set because we always play all our tunes together for some reason," he says. "I basically never stop playing. I don't have a moment where I am not doing something at any point in the set."
This all-in, throwdown approach is intrinsic to understanding what Hiatus Kaiyote is about. They'll follow an idea, no matter how obscure or complex, wherever it leads, which creates a through-composed structure that gives their music an otherworldly feel. They do have more conventional verse/chorus-type songs as well—"Chivalry Is Not Dead," and "Red Room" off their latest release, Mood Valiant, for example—but even there, the music oozes a loose, what-are-these-amazing-sounds-I'm-hearing energy.
Hiatus Kaiyote - 'Red Room' (Official Video)
Hiatus Kaiyote formed in 2011 and earned Grammy nominations in the R&B category for each of their first two releases before going on what was supposed to be a short hiatus in 2017. But that break seemed to extend indefinitely. During that time, lead singer and guitarist Nai Palm (born Naomi Saalfield) had a terrifying brush with breast cancer (now in remission). Then, with Mood Valiant almost completed, COVID hit and put everything on hold. Although for them, the silver lining was that they were able to isolate together. "We were wrapping it up when that shit went down," Bender says about the final sessions for the album. "We went into the bunker together. It kicked our ass into finishing the record, because there was nothing else to do."
"The biggest part of my attraction to guitars I like is the playability. If it feels good to play, I'm more likely to be motivated to write on it." —Nai Palm
Mood Valiant is the quartet's third full-length and continues their seemingly effortless fusion of jazz-like harmonies, electronic textures and patches, and subtle-yet-funky grooves. Added to the mix are lush string and horn arrangements from Brazilian composer Arthur Verocai (more about him in a minute), and an adventurousness that seems almost prog, as heard on songs such as the whirling and unpredictable "Rose Water," the beautiful piano ballad "Stone or Lavender," and the aforementioned experimental-yet-grounded "Chivalry Is Not Dead."
Bender is a driving force behind the band's groove. He's officially the bassist, but in addition to holding down the low end, he also covers upper-register chordal work—timbres and tones you'd expect from a guitar—as well as more ambient and spacious synth-like textures. He's not the band's only multitasker. Drummer Perrin Moss plays on a mutant kit that resembles a cross between a standard jazz-type setup with a large assortment of acoustic noisemakers, electronics, and keys. Keyboardist Simon Mavin lives in a space that combines vintage gear, samples, and modern pads, and Palm is guitarist and lead singer, although she'll often put the instrument down to focus on her complex and harmonically rich vocals.
Nai Palm subverts expectations—and makes a big style statement—by playing "gentle shit" on her Jackson Randy Rhoads V RRT3 Pro Series.
Photo by Stephan De Witt
"When I write songs alone from scratch, it's usually on a guitar," she says. "A big part of the motivation to play or not play depends on how the song feels emotionally, performance-wise. Guitar is super cerebral and focused, which I adore and I find a lot of freedom in, but it can be limiting singing because your brain is essentially doing two separate tasks. It's fun to keep my options open and not just be stuck to one thing."
Given the band's multidimensional spirit, it's no surprise that Bender has deep roots in various disciplines. His earliest experiences as a youngster were playing metal and grunge, but at one point he was halfway around the world, studying jazz at the University of Miami and cutting his teeth on upright bass.
Paul Bender's Gear
Bender's behemoth of a pedalboard.
Bass
- Ernie Ball Music Man Bongo 6
Amps
- Ampeg SVT heads and cabs
- Vintage Coronets
Strings
- Ernie Ball Slinky Long Scale 6-String Nickel Wound Electric Bass Strings (.032–.130)
Pedals
- 3Leaf Audio Octabvre
- 3Leaf Audio Wonderlove Envelope Filter
- 3Leaf Audio You're Doom Dynamic Harmonic Device
- Chunk Systems Brown Dog Gated Bass Fuzz
- DigiTech X-Series Synth Wah Envelope Filter
- DigiTech Whammy
- Ernie Ball VP JR Volume/Expression Pedal
- Mooer Lofi Machine
- Mooer Yellow Comp
- MXR Bass Octave Deluxe
- MXR Carbon Copy Analog Delay
- MXR M109S Six Band EQ
- MXR Talk Box
- Roland RE-201 Space Echo
- TC Electronic PolyTune
- ZVex Box of Rock
"I don't really play the upright that much anymore," he says. "But there was a good period of time when that was my whole bag. I was really into playing upright—walking bass, changes, standards, all that stuff. I definitely went down that rabbit hole pretty hard. It's pretty unforgiving when you step away for a while. It is a distinct physical challenge, and there's a particular double bass fitness that you've got to maintain. You can't really put it down for a couple years and then expect to be any good at it again."
He stopped playing jazz around the time he joined Hiatus Kaiyote, although that's only broadened his horizons, as the band's music draws from so many disparate sources. The challenge, however, isn't just weaving those different pieces together. It's also pragmatic: reproducing their multilayered arrangements in a live setting as a four-piece.
"There is something lovely and distinct about the bass having a chordal function." —Paul Bender
"Simon's only got so many fingers that he can use to play different sounds," Bender says about recreating keyboard parts on bass. "Sometimes I'll try to cover a certain countermelody idea or a chordal idea on the bass, as well as provide the bass function. That can definitely inform the parts that I write. Sometimes it happens in the reverse, where we produce a track where I might have played a regular bass part, but then there will be a bunch of overdubs and a bunch of different things happening, and it's got to be filled out a little bit more. That might change how I approach the bass part in a live context. There are times where I like doing a regular kind of bassline, but I also love getting into the chordal thing, especially when you get into 6-string territory. There is something lovely and distinct about the bass having a chordal function. It can be a really awesome flavor."
But sometimes, the challenge is in the basslines themselves, like when the recorded version is a studio creation of multiple parts stitched together.
TIDBIT: The band flew to Brazil to record composer Arthur Verocai's string and horn arrangements for the songs "Get Sun" and "Stone or Lavender."
"I've definitely done stuff where I've done weird hybrid things," he says. "I'll make a bassline that is comprised of multiple basses making up the whole thing, which is fairly elaborate and stupid, but such a fun approach. I did that on the first record, Tawk Tomahawk, on that track 'Mobius Streak.' I had a Gretsch Electromatic on 'Chivalry Is Not Dead,' from the new record, in the verses, and a Kiesel fanned-fret, super-modern bass, because it has that super-aggressive top-end-y modern thing for the slap bass shit. On the recording, I do a lot more honing in on specific things. That's the time to pull out the very specific colors and accents that different basses give me."
But Bender's only interested in using a varied assortment of instruments when he's in the studio. Once he hits the highway, he's a minimalist and relies on one axe: a blue Ernie Ball Music Man Bongo 6. "I am not taking eight basses on the road," he says. "I am taking one, because … come on. We're not at that level of touring yet where I've got some guy at the side of the stage waiting to run out to hand me another bass for this song. I am not in Radiohead, which would be fun, but that's the pragmatic reality of it."
"I'll make a bassline that is comprised of multiple basses making up the whole thing, which is fairly elaborate and stupid, but such a fun approach." —Paul Bender
"It was partially due to [singer/songwriter and guitarist] Lianne La Havas, who called me on her birthday, drunk from Costa Rica, while I was looking for a guitar," Palm laughs, explaining how she ended up with her white Jackson V. "I went into the heavy metal guitar section to get some space to hear her, and after the call thought, 'Fuck, I'm going to try the spiky Randy Rhoads guitar.' A big part of the attraction was its playability. The action was great and I loved that you can get both a clean and gritty sound from it. I have super-little hands, and the D'Angelico—although it was a vibe—was super heavy. The biggest part of my attraction to guitars I like is the playability. If it feels good to play, I'm more likely to be motivated to write on it. I also love the juxtaposition of playing gentle shit on it. It pisses off the purist metal heads, but I like to think outside of the box." Palm prefers to pair her pointy Jackson with a Fender Twin Reverb.
When Palm plays guitar, she also only uses one instrument. For most of the last decade, that was a custom semi-hollow D'Angelico EX-SS, although a few years ago she made a radical switch, which, for the music she plays, is seemingly incongruous.
Paul Bender loves to experiment with basses and amps in the studio, but when it comes to playing live, he keeps it simple and relies upon his Ernie Ball Music Man Bongo 6, which he prefers to play through an Ampeg SVT.
Photo by Luke Kellett
For Bender, using different basses and layering parts is just one part of his unique approach to the studio. He also has a fun time with amps. On the road, he's content to rent an SVT—or comparable refrigerator-like unit—but in the studio, his mission is clarity and definition.
"If I've got to pick one amp to run the bass through, I am not going to go for a big amp," he says. "I have been getting into these little Coronet amps. They are quite small, and I am not going to blast the bottom end through it." The point is using the smaller amps—in this case, solid-state models from the '60s and '70s—to focus on details and relying on the direct line for the sub frequencies. "The interesting part of the sound, or the flavor, is more that midrange and presence you get pushing it through a smaller amp like a Coronet. I am trying to hear the distinct detail in what I am playing, and the fingers and the touch and the presence. Smaller amps are great when recording. It's a whole different realm. When I am doing a gig, I might be standing in front of the fridge, but in the studio, sometimes the smaller the amp, the better. It condenses the most interesting parts of the sound to that one little speaker."
Nai Palm's Gear
Photo by Luke Kellett
Guitar
- Jackson Randy Rhoads V RRT3 Pro Series
Amp
- Fender Twin Reverb
Strings
- Ernie Ball Super Slinky (.009–.042)
- Ernie Ball Regular Slinky (.010–.046)
Pedals
- Electro-Harmonix POG2
- Kink Guitar Pedals Straya Drive
- Mooer Yellow Comp
- MXR Echoplex Delay
- MXR Reverb
- MXR Sub Octave Bass Fuzz
- MXR Uni-Vibe
- TC Electronic PolyTune 3
Hiatus Kaiyote don't have many peers when it comes to their aesthetic and overall approach, although they did find a simpatico creative partner in legendary Brazilian composer and arranger Arthur Verocai, who contributed horn and string arrangements for "Get Sun" and "Stone or Lavender" on Mood Valiant. "We're kind of musical loners," Palm says. "If we work with someone creatively, they have to be able to contribute something uniquely themselves. He was the cherry on top of our album, and it really made the record sing."
To work with Verocai, the band flew to Brazil, played a few shows to cover costs, and met up with him. As it was, showing up in the studio in Rio was not only the first time they met, but the first time they heard his arrangements. It was a risk, but they weren't disappointed.
"If we work with someone creatively, they have to be able to contribute something uniquely themselves." —Nai Palm
"He had a really awesome energy," Bender says. "We got to know him during the session and got to see him at work conducting and rehearsing and recording the ensemble. It was great. We had no idea what he was going to write at all. We thought, 'Hopefully it is going to be cool and we're all going to love it, because otherwise it is going to be fucking awkward if we don't.' But he nailed."
There is a limit to how far Hiatus Kaiyote are willing to push the envelope. Sure, they'll obsess over tones, allow their songs to take them on intricate musical journeys, partner sight-unseen with Brazilian composers, and fly across oceans to collaborate. But they're still an Australian-based band, and there's only so much stuff they're willing to take on the road.
"Fuck flying from Australia with a bass amp," Bender says. "That's a horrible idea. Although if we were Iron Maiden and we had our own plane, that would be a whole different jam."
Hiatus Kaiyote: Tiny Desk (Home) Concert
Hiatus Kaiyote enlist an eclectic—and, in some cases, furry—crew of friends and collaborators for this colorful Tiny Desk (Home) Concert, featuring music from Mood Valiant.
Onstage, Tommy Emmanuel executes a move that is not from the playbook of his hero, Chet Atkins.
Recorded live at the Sydney Opera House, the Australian guitarist’s new album reminds listeners that his fingerpicking is in a stratum all its own. His approach to arranging only amplifies that distinction—and his devotion to Chet Atkins.
Australian fingerpicking virtuoso Tommy Emmanuel is turning 70 this year. He’s been performing since he was 6, and for every solo show he’s played, he’s never used a setlist.
“My biggest decision every day on tour is, ‘What do I want to start with? How do I want to come out of the gate?’” Emmanuel explains to me over a video call. “A good opener has to have everything. It has to be full of surprise, it has to have lots of good ideas, lots of light and shade, and then, hit it again,” he says, illustrating each phrase with his hands and ending with a punch.“You lift off straightaway with the first song, you get airborne, you start reaching, and then it’s time to level out and take people on a journey.”
In May 2023, Emmanuel played two shows at the Sydney Opera House, the best performances from which have been combined on his new release, Live at the Sydney Opera House. The venue’s Concert Hall, which has a capacity of 2,679, is a familiar room for Emmanuel, but I think at this point in his career he wouldn’t bring a setlist if he was playing Wembley Stadium. On the recording, Emmanuel’s mind-blowingly dexterous chops, distinctive attack and flair, and knack for culturally resonant compositions are on full display. His opening song for the shows? An original, “Countrywide,” with a segue into Chet Atkins’ “El Vaquero.”
“When I was going to high school in the ’60s, I heard ‘El Vaquero’ on Chet Atkins’ record, [1964’s My Favorite Guitars],” Emmanuel shares. “And when I wrote ‘Countrywide’ in around ’76 or ’77, I suddenly realized, ‘Ah! It’s a bit like “El Vaquero!”’ So I then worked out ‘El Vaquero’ as a solo piece, because it wasn’t recorded like that [by Atkins originally].
“The co-writer of ‘El Vaquero’ is Wayne Moss, who’s a famous Nashville session guy who played ‘da da da’ [sings the guitar riff from Roy Orbison’s ‘Pretty Woman’]. And he played on a lot of Chet’s records as a rhythm guy. So once when I played ‘El Vaquero’ live, Wayne Moss came up to me and said, ‘You know, you did my part and Chet’s at the same time. That’s not fair!’” Emmanuel says, laughing.
Atkins is the reason Emmanuel got into performing. His mother had been teaching him rhythm guitar for a couple years when he heard Atkins on the radio and, at 6, was able to immediately mimic his fingerpicking technique. His father recognized Emmanuel’s prodigious talent and got him on the road that year, which kicked off his professional career. He says, “By the time I was 6, I was already sleep-deprived, working too hard, and being forced to be educated. Because all I was interested in was playing music.”
Emmanuel talks about Atkins as if the way he viewed him as a boy hasn’t changed. The title Atkins bestowed upon him, C.G.P. (Certified Guitar Player), appears on Emmanuel’s album covers, in his record label (C.G.P. Sounds), and is inlaid at the 12th fret on his Maton Custom Shop TE Personal signature acoustic. (Atkins named only five guitarists C.G.P.s. The others are John Knowles, Steve Wariner, Jerry Reed, and Atkins himself.) For Emmanuel, even today most roads lead to Atkins.
When I ask Emmanuel about his approach to arranging for solo acoustic guitar, he says, “It was really hit home for me by my hero, Chet Atkins, when I read an interview with him a long time ago and he said, ‘Make your arrangement interesting.’ And I thought, ‘Wow!’ Because I was so keen to be true to the composer and play the song as everyone knows it. But then again, I’m recreating it like everyone else has, and I might as well get in line with the rest of them and jump off the cliff into nowhere. So it struck me: ‘How can I make my arrangements interesting?’ Well, make them full of surprises.”
When Emmanuel was invited to contribute to 2015’s Burt Bacharach: This Guitar’s in Love with You, featuring acoustic-guitar tributes to Bacharach’s classic compositions by various artists, Emmanuel expresses that nobody wanted to take “(They Long to Be) Close to You,” due to its “syrupy” nature. But for Emmanuel, this presented an entertaining challenge.
He explains, “I thought, ‘Okay, how can I reboot “Close to You?’ So even the most jaded listener will say, ‘Holy fuck—I didn’t expect that! Wow, I really like that; that is a good melody!’ So I found a good key to play the song in, which allowed me to get some open notes that sustain while I move the chords. Then what I did is, in every phrase, I made the chord unresolve, then resolve.
Tommy Emmanuel's Gear
“I’m writing music for the film that’s in my head,” Emmanuel says. “So, I don’t think, ‘I’m just the guitar,’ ever.”
Photo by Simone Cecchetti
Guitars
- Three Maton Custom Shop TE Personals, each with an AP5 PRO pickup system
Amps
- Udo Roesner Da Capo 75
Effects
- AER Pocket Tools preamp
Strings & Picks
- Martin TE Signature Phosphor Bronze (.012–.054)
- Martin SP strings
- Ernie Ball Paradigm strings
- D’Andrea Pro Plec 1.5 mm
- Dunlop medium thumbpicks
“And then to really put the nail in the coffin, at the end, ‘Close to you’ [sings melody]. I finished on a major 9 chord which had that note in it, but it wasn’t the key the song was in, which is a typical Stevie Wonder trick. All the tricks I know, the wonderful ideas that I’ve stolen, are from Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Lionel Richie, James Taylor, Carole King, Neil Diamond. All of the people who wrote really incredibly great pop songs and R&B music—I stole every idea I could, and I tried to make my little two-and-a -half minutes as interesting and entertaining as possible. Because entertainment equals: Surprise me.”
I share with Emmanuel that the performances on Live at the Sydney Opera House, which include his popular “Beatles Medley,” reminded me of another possible arrangement trick. In Harpo Marx’s autobiography, Harpo Speaks, I preface, Marx writes of a lesson he learned as a performer—to “answer the audience’s questions.” (Emmanuel says he’s a big fan of the book and read it in the early ’70s.) That happened for me while listening to the medley, when, after sampling melodies from “She’s a Woman” and “Please Please Me,” Emmanuel suddenly lands on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.”
I say, “I’m waiting for something that hits more recognizably to me, and when ‘While My Guitar’ comes in, that’s like answering my question.”
“It’s also Paul and John, Paul and John, George,” Emmanuel replies. “You think, ‘That’s great, that’s great pop music,’ then, ‘Wow! Look at the depth of this.’”Often Emmanuel’s flights on his acoustic guitar are seemingly superhuman—as well as supremely entertaining.
Photo by Ekaterina Gorbacheva
A trick I like to employ as a writer, I say to Emmanuel, is that when I’m describing something, I’ll provide the reader with just enough context so that they can complete the thought on their own.
“You can do that musically as well,” says Emmanuel. He explains how, in his arrangement of “What a Wonderful World,” he’ll play only the vocal melody. “When people are asking me at a workshop, ‘How come you don’t put chords behind that part?’ I say, ‘I’m drawing the melody and you’re putting in all the background in your head. I don’t need to tell you what the chords are. You already know what the chords are.’”
“Wayne Moss came up to me and said, ‘You know, you did my part and Chet’s at the same time. That’s not fair!’”
Another track featured on Live at the Sydney Opera House is a cover of Paul Simon’s “American Tune” (which Emmanuel then jumps into an adaptation of the Australian bush ballad, “Waltzing Matilda”). It’s been a while since I really spent time with There GoesRhymin’ Simon (on which “American Tune” was first released), and yet it sounded so familiar to me. A little digging revealed that its melody is based on the 17th-century Christian hymn, “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” which was arranged and repurposed by Bach in a few of the composer’s works. The cross-chronological and genre-lackadaisical intersections that come up in popular music sometimes is fascinating.
“I think the principle right there,” Emmanuel muses, “is people like Bach and Beethoven and Mozart found the right language to touch the heart of a human being through their ears and through their senses ... that really did something to them deep in their soul. They found a way with the right chords and the right notes, somehow. It could be as primitive as that.
Tommy Emmanuel has been on the road as a performing guitarist for 64 years. Eat your heart out, Bob Dylan.
Photo by Jan Anderson
“It’s like when you’re a young composer and someone tells you, ‘Have a listen to Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind,”’ he continues. “‘Listen to how those notes work with those chords.’ And every time you hear it, you go, ‘Why does it touch me like that? Why do I feel this way when I hear those chords—those notes against those chords?’ I say, it’s just human nature. Then you wanna go, ‘How can I do that!’” he concludes with a grin.
“You draw from such a variety of genres in your arrangements,” I posit. “Do you try to lean into the side of converting those songs to solo acoustic guitar, or the side of bridging the genre’s culture to that of your audience?”
“I stole every idea I could, and I tried to make my little two-and-a-half minutes as interesting and entertaining as possible. Because entertainment equals: Surprise me.”
“If I was a method actor,” Emmanuel explains, “what I’m doing is—I’m writing music for the film that’s in my head. So, I don’t think, ‘I’m just the guitar,’ ever. I always think it has to have that kind of orchestral, not grandeur, but … palette to it. Because of the influence of Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, and Elton John, especially—the piano guys—I try to use piano ideas, like putting the third in the low bass a lot, because guitar players don’t necessarily do that. And I try to always do something that makes what I do different.
“I want to be different and recognizable,” he continues. “I remember when people talked about how some players—you just hear one note and you go, ‘Oh, that’s Chet Atkins.’ And it hit me like a train, the reason why a guy like Hank Marvin, the lead guitar player from the Shadows.... I can tell you: He had a tone that I hear in other players now. Everyone copied him—they just don’t know it—including Mark Knopfler, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, all those people. I got him up to play with me a few times when he moved to Australia, and even playing acoustic, he still had that sound. I don’t know how he did it, but it was him. He invented himself.”
YouTube It
Emmanuel performs his arrangement of “What a Wonderful World,” illustrating how omitting a harmonic backdrop can have a more powerful effect, especially when playing such a well-known melody.
Guest columnist Dave Pomeroy, who is also president of Nashville’s musicians union, with some of his friends.
Dave Pomeroy, who’s played on over 500 albums with artists including Emmylou Harris, Elton John, Trisha Yearwood, Earl Scruggs, and Alison Krauss, shares his thoughts on bass playing—and a vision of the future.
From a very young age, I was captivated by music. Our military family was stationed in England from 1961 to 1964, so I got a two-year head start on the Beatles starting at age 6. When Cream came along, for the first time I was able to separate what the different players were doing, and my focus immediately landed on Jack Bruce. He wrote most of the songs, sang wonderfully, and drove the band with his bass. Playing along with Cream’s live recordings was a huge part of my initial self-training, and I never looked back.
The electric bass has a much shorter history than most instruments. I believe that this is a big reason why the evolution of bass playing continues in ways that were literally unimaginable when it began to replace the acoustic bass on pop and R&B recordings. Players like James Jamerson, Joe Osborn, Carol Kaye, Chuck Rainey, and David Hood made great songs even better with their bass lines, pocket, and tone. Playing in bands throughout my teenage years, I took every opportunity I could to learn from musicians who were more experienced than I was. Slowly, I began to understand the power of the bass to make everyone else sound better—or lead the way to a train wreck! That sense of responsibility was not lost on me. As I continued to play, listen, and learn, a gradual awareness of other elements came to the surface, including the three Ts: tone, timing, and taste.
I was ready to rock the world with busy lines and bass solos when I moved to Nashville in the late ’70s, and I was suddenly transported into the land of singer-songwriters. It was a huge awakening when I heard the lyrics of artists like Guy Clark, whose spare yet powerful stories and simple guitar changes opened up a whole new universe in reverse for me. It was a reset for sure, but gradually I found ways to combine my earlier energetic approach in different ways. Playing what’s right for a song is a very subjective thing.
“If the song calls for you to ramp up the energy and lead the way like Chris Squire, Bootsy Collins, Geddy Lee, Sting, Flea, Justin Chancellor, or so many others, trust yourself and go for it.”
Don Williams, whom I worked with for many years, was known as a man of few words, but he gave me some of the best musical advice I ever received. I had been with him for just a few months when he pulled me aside one night after a show, and quietly said, “Dave, you don’t have to play what’s on the records, just don’t throw me off when I’m singing.” In other words: It’s okay to be creative, but listen to what’s going on around you. I never forgot that lesson.
As I gradually got into recording work, in an environment where creativity is combined with efficiency and experimentation is sometimes, but not always, welcome, I focused on tone as a form of expression, trying to make every note count. As drum sounds got much bigger during the ’80s, string bass was pretty much off the table as an option in most situations. Inspired by German bassist Eberhard Weber, I bought an electric upright 5-string built by Harry Fleishman a few years earlier. That theoretically self-indulgent purchase gave me an opportunity to carve out a tone that would work with both big drums and acoustic instruments. It gave me an identifiable sound and led to me playing that bass on records with artists like Keith Whitley, Trisha Yearwood, Alison Krauss, Emmylou Harris, and the Chieftains.
In a world of constantly evolving and merging musical styles, the options can be almost overwhelming, so it’s important to trust yourself. Ultimately, you are making a series of choices every time you pick up the instrument. Whether it’s pick versus fingers versus thumb, or clean versus overdrive versus distortion, and so on … you are the boss of your role in the song you are playing. When the sonic surroundings you find yourself in change, so can you. It’s all about listening to what is going on around you and finding that sweet spot where you can bring the whole thing together while not attracting too much attention.
On the other hand, if the song calls for you to ramp up the energy and lead the way like Chris Squire, Bootsy Collins, Geddy Lee, Sting, Flea, Justin Chancellor, or so many others, trust yourself and go for it. Newer role models like Tal Wilkenfeld, Thundercat, and MonoNeon have raised the bar yet again. The beauty of it all is that the bass and its role keep evolving.
Right now, I guarantee there are young bassists of all descriptions we have not yet heard who are reinventing the bass and its role in new ways. That’s what bass players do—we are the glue that ties music together. Find your power and use it!
A satin finish with serious style. Join PG contributor Tom Butwin as he dives into the PRS Standard 24 Satin—a guitar that blends classic PRS craftsmanship with modern versatility. From its D-MO pickups to its fast-playing neck, this one’s a must-see.
PRS Standard 24 Satin Electric Guitar - Satin Red Apple Metallic
Standard 24 Satin, Red App MetA reverb-based pedal for exploring the far reaches of sound.
Easy to use control set. Wide range of sounds. Crush control is fun to explore. Filter is versatile.
Works best as a stereo effect, which may limit some players.
$299
Old Blood Noise Endeavors Dark Star Stereo
oldbloodnoise.com
The Old Blood Dark Star Stereo (DSS) is one of those pedals that lives beyond simple effect categorization. Yes, it’s a digital reverb. But like other Old Blood designs, it’s such a feature-rich, creative take on that effect that to think of it as a reverb feels not only imprecise but unfair.
The Old Blood Dark Star Stereo (DSS) is one of those pedals that lives beyond simple effect categorization. Yes, it’s a digital reverb. But like other Old Blood designs, it’s such a feature-rich, creative take on that effect that to think of it as a reverb feels not only imprecise but unfair.
In this case, reverb describes how the DSS works more than how it sounds. I’ve come to think of this pedal as a reverb-based synthesizer, where reverb is the jumping-off point for sonic creation. As such, the sounds coming out of the Dark Star can be used as subtle sweetener or sound design textures, opening up worlds that might otherwise be unreachable.
Reverb and Beyond
Functionally speaking, the DSS starts with reverb and applies a high-/low-pass filter, two pitch shifters, each with a two-octave range in each direction, plus bit-crushing and distortion. Controls for lag (pre-delay), multiply (feedback), and decay follow, with mini knobs for volume, mix, and spread. Additional control features include presets, MIDI functionality, plus expression and aux control.
The DSS can be routed in mono, stereo, or mono-in/stereo-out. Both jacks are single TRS, and it’s easy to switch between settings by holding down the bypass switch and selecting via the preset button.
Although it sounds great in mono, stereo is where this iteration of the Dark Star—which follows the mono Dark Star and Dark Star V2—really comes alive. Starting with the filter, both pitch shifters, and crush knobs at noon—all have center detents—affords the most neutral settings. The result is a pad reverb, as synthetic as but less sparkly than a shimmer. The filter control is a fine way to distinguish clean and effect signals. In low-pass mode, the effect signal can easily get dark and spooky while maintaining fidelity and without getting murky. On the other end, high-pass settings are handy for refining those reverb pads and keeping them from washing out the clarity of the clean signal.
Lower fidelity is close at hand when you want it. The crush control, when turned counterclockwise, reduces the bit rate of the effect signal, evoking all kinds of digitally compromised sounds, from early samplers to cell phones, depending on how you flavor it. Counterclockwise applies distortion to the reverb signal. There’s a lot to explore within the wide ranges of the two pitch controls, too. With a four-octave range, quantized in half steps, the combinations can be extreme, and Dark Star takes on a life of its own.
Formless Reflections of Matter
The DSS is easy to get acquainted with, especially for a pedal with so many features, 10 knobs, and two footswitches. I quickly got a feel for the reverb itself at the most neutral filter and pitch settings, where I enjoyed the weight a responsive, textural pad lent to everything I played.
With just the filter and crush controls, there’s plenty to explore. Sitting in the sweet spot between a pair of vintage Fenders, I conjured a Twin Peaks-inspired hazy fog to accompany honeyed diatonic arpeggios, slowly filtering and crushing that sound into a dark, evil low-end whir as chords leaned toward dissonance. Eventually, I cranked the high-pass filter, producing an early MP3-in-a-good-way “shhh” that was fine accompaniment to sparser voicings along my fretboard. It was a true sonic journeyThe pitch controls increase possibilities for both ambience and dissonance. Simple tweaks push the boundaries of possibility in exponentially deeper directions. For more subtle thickening and accompaniment sounds, adding octaves, which are easy to tune by ear, offers precise tone sculpting, dimension, and a wider frequency range. Hearing simple harmonic ideas plucked against celeste- and organ-like reverberations kept me in the Harold Budd and Brian Eno space for long enough to consider new recording projects.
There is as much fun to be had at the highest feedback settings on the DSS. Be forewarned: Spend too much time there and you might need a name for your new ambient band. Cranking the multiply and decay knobs, I’d drop in a few notes, or maybe just a chord, and get to work scanning the pitch knobs and sculpting with the filter. Soon, I conjured bold Ligeti-inspired orchestral sounds fit for a guitar remix of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
The Verdict
The Dark Star Stereo strikes a nice balance between deep control, a wide range of sonic rewards, playability, and an always-sounds-great vibe. The controls are easy to use, so it doesn’t take long to get in the zone, and once you do, there’s plenty to explore. Throughout my time with the DSS, I was impressed with its high-fidelity clarity. I attribute that to the filter, which allows clean and reverb signals to perform dry/wet balance and EQ functions. That alone encouraged more adventurous and creative exploration. Though not every player needs this kind of tone tool, the DSS is a must-check-out effect for anyone serious about wild reverb adventures, and it’s simple and intuitive enough to be a good fit for anyone just starting exploration of those zones. However you come to the Dark Star, it’s a unique-sounding pedal that deserves attention. PG