There's a perfectly good reason why the famous offset's most high-profile ambassador has a new signature Telecaster—andthe silver-maned fuzz lord also turned to a number of other surprising choices for Dinosaur Jr.'s wonderfully varied new Sweep It Into Space.
Dinosaur Jr. has long had a home with fans of fuzzy indie rock, but they've also never sounded quite like any other band. The sour/sweet juxtaposition of J Mascis' gentle, reedy vocal textures against his hallmark wall of swirling, violently massive guitars isn't without precedent, yet in the context of Dinosaur Jr.'s music it's always stood out as something unique and genuine—and it's had a major influence on the hordes of contemporary artists chasing the alt-rock glory of the '90s.
The Massachusetts-based trio has had three distinct periods as a band, yet Mascis' earnest songwriting and equally vicious, noisy, and melodic guitar have always been the eye around which the band's sonic hurricane revolves. He is a revered tone hunter, a passionate student of rock's grimy past, and a prolific gear collector. Weaned on a steady diet of '80s hardcore punk, '70s proto metal, and especially Stooges records featuring Ron Asheton's primal guitar work, Mascis has a style—particularly in his soloing, which feels like a 6-string stream-of-conscious monologue—that's unmistakable.
Dinosaur Jr. - Full Performance (Live on KEXP at Home)
Dinosaur Jr.'s original lineup of Mascis, bassist Lou Barlow, and drummer Emmett Jefferson Murphy III (known as "Murph" to everyone but the government) formed in 1984 in Amherst, Massachusetts, and put out three highly influential albums before splintering. Mascis continued to make Dinosaur Jr. recordings, chiefly by himself, until 1997, at which point he began a solo career in earnest. However, Dinosaur Jr.'s founding triumvirate unexpectedly reunited in 2005. And the band's third act has added four critically acclaimed albums to its discography—now followed by an inspired and vibrant fifth, the new Sweep It Into Space.
Mascis has historically been downright negative about the role producers play, however, this time the band opted to call in friend, fan, and prolific singer-songwriter Kurt Vile to help bring Sweep It Into Space to life. Mascis says that, unlike the typical artist-producer relationship, Vile's role was more like a fourth band member and cheerleader. "Kurt was good because he likes the band already and wasn't really trying to tell us anything to do. He was mostly playing and singing different parts to the songs, and if I liked them I'd put 'em in. Kurt was also a good vibe guy and I think he made the other guys feel a little more comfortable, because we can get a little tense when we record. Kurt kept the vibe good." Mascis adds that he and Vile have similar tastes as guitarists, and that "if we were both being interviewed, you'd hear some similarities in the things we like from the past."
I bought a Les Paul Deluxe just because I was in Thin Lizzy mode. That was an interesting new purchase, and I played some rhythm stuff on the album on that guitar.
So many high-profile reunions fail to yield strong new albums, let alone five. Sweep It Into Space elaborates on the magic of Dinosaur Jr.'s beloved early output. It's a pure representation of Mascis' songwriting, with the classic Murph and Barlow support, and every track is a feast for fans of Mascis' guitar work. From the jangle and bash of opener "I Ain't" to the hulking, Black Sabbath-informed riff that opens "I Met the Stones" to the layered acoustic guitars and blazing solos that punctuate throughout (particularly the burners on "Hide Another Round" and "N Say"), Sweep It Into Space finds Mascis at the peak of his prowess. Though Mascis claims not to have noticed any specific changes in his playing throughout the pandemic's isolation, he did find himself on a serious Thin Lizzy kick he admits probably found its way onto the new album (perhaps as manifested by the harmonized leads on "I Ran Away").
"I was watching a lot of Thin Lizzy videos. My friend Graham [Clise] that's in [side-project] Witch with me told me to watch this video of Gary Moore on [BBC TV program] The Old Grey Whistle Test,and his backup band is Scott Gorham, Phil Lynott, and Cozy Powell on drums, and he's really ripping in that! That video led me to get more into Thin Lizzy, because it sounded a lot like [MC5 guitarist Fred "Sonic" Smith's band] Sonic's Rendezvous Band or something that was definitely up my alley. I bought a Les Paul Deluxe just because I was in Thin Lizzy mode. That was an interesting new purchase, and I played some rhythm stuff on the album on that guitar."
TIDBIT: While much of Sweep It Into Space was recorded before the pandemic, Mascis also tracked alone at home. "Quarantine made me a better engineer, if anything."
Mascis is a renowned gearhound, so it's no surprise he picked up some new old guitars over the course of the pandemic. However, the big news in Mascis' gear world is his latest collaboration with Fender: a signature Telecaster based on his favorite 1958. Mascis' wildly popular signature Squier Jazzmaster was first put into production in 2011 and is considered by many offset fans to be the best bang-for-buck Jazzmaster available. But despite the role Mascis has played in popularizing Jazzmasters by playing vintage models live since Dinosaur Jr. began, the guitar Mascis has relied upon for the lion's share of the iconic solos heard on the band's albums is indeed that very special '58 Tele, which sports a blue-sparkle refinish, mirror pickguard, jumbo frets, and a "top-loader" bridge. The new Road Worn Series J Mascis signature Telecaster immortalizes that guitar and its unique features in a relatively affordable package.
J Mascis' Gear
Another new gear switch-up: Whereas Mascis blasts through a wall of Marshall and Hiwatt stacks live, for the new Dinosaur Jr. album, he relied on a Vox AC30 and Fender Bandmaster instead.
Photo by Jim Bennett
Guitars
- Fender J Mascis Signature Telecaster
- 1958 Fender Telecaster
- 1972 Gibson Les Paul Deluxe
- Ernie Ball Music Man St. Vincent
Amps
- Vox AC30 AC30HW2 Hand-Wired reissue
- 1x12 cab with Tone Tubby Hempcone Speaker
- Tweed Fender Bandmaster
Effects
- Jerms Tone Bender MkI clone
- Chase Bliss Brothers
- Jam Pedals RetroVibe
- Lovetone Cheese Source
- Lovetone Meatball
- Wren and Cuff J Mascis Garbage Face fuzz
- Bad Cat X-Treme Tone
Strings & Picks
- Ernie Ball Regular Slinky (.010–.046)
- Dunlop Tortex 1.12 mm
Rig Rundown - Dinosaur Jr.'s J Mascis and Lou Barlow
So, for a guy whose name is synonymous with the Jazzmaster, what exactly is it about that old blue Tele that's made it his go-to when it comes time to lay down a solo? "I seem to play differently on a lot of guitars, which is another reason why I like to buy different guitars. I come up with different things, and maybe the guitars have some songs in them already. On that Tele, I find my solos are more interesting. If I play the same solo on a Strat, it just sounds like a Strat to me. It's slightly more boring somehow? I don't know where my brain or fingers go or why that happens, but I usually find that if I play solos on different guitars for the same song, the stuff I play on that Tele is always more interesting. The top-loader was the first Tele I really bonded with, and it was about the feel. When I pick up Teles with string-through-body bridges, the strings are a little harder to bend. People say the top-loaders don't have as much sustain, but I never thought of a Tele as a sustain guitar anyway, and when you hit a Big Muff, every guitar has sustain. So that argument doesn't really work for me."
People say [Telecaster] top-loaders don't have as much sustain, but I never thought of a Tele as a sustain guitar anyway, and when you hit a Big Muff, every guitar has sustain.
Sweep It Into Space came together right before the pandemic began to shut things down. While all of its songs were fundamentally tracked by the time lockdowns began, Mascis had to capture some of his solos and overdubs at home and was forced to learn Pro Tools in the process. "I guess quarantine made me a better engineer, if anything," he says. "I did some 12-string guitar overdubs and recorded some solos myself." Although, live, Mascis is often photographer-slamming his sound through a confrontational trio of Marshall and Hiwatt stacks, recording himself led to a different option. "I tended to use a handwired AC30 head, because it has a master volume. Because the amp was right next to me, I could make it really quiet with the master volume, which really helped out. I think I played it through a cab with one of those Tone Tubby hemp speakers."
Dinosaur Jr. (left to right): Bassist Lou Barlow, J Mascis, and drummer Emmett Jefferson "Murph" Murphy III.
Photo by Cara Totman
Another reason Mascis fired up his Vox is that he prefers the way AC15s and AC30s handle fuzz pedals for recording. "I tend to always want to put the mic right on the speaker, and lately I've tended to favor a Vox amp for fuzz. I like the way fuzz hits a Vox amp. It seems to work well with them and it's never that loud when I record, so it's very different than how I get that sound live. I'm trying to recreate maybe the live feel, but it seems much easier to get a cool sound at a lower volume so the mic can handle it." Mascis also says that it's usually a germanium Tone Bender MkI that he reaches for as a starting point for his recorded fuzz sounds, and seldom the Big Muffs he loves live. However, the guitarist is still happy to experiment. "I tend to add different things to that, and I usually always stack fuzzes together to come up with a cool sound."
The only time I'll ever reach for a slide is if I think a song really needs it, because I'm not very good at it.
Interestingly, while the main riff on "I Met The Stones" features one of the most savage guitar sounds on any Dinosaur Jr. release, no fuzz pedals were involved in shaping the track's core tone. "That song I ended up playing in C# … and I think I was using a St. Vincent signature Ernie Ball guitar, because it seemed to play in-tune well at that pitch. A lot of those rhythm parts are on that guitar through a tweed Fender Bandmaster. I think the sound on that song is mostly from the amp and the mini-humbuckers in that guitar."
A 1987 SST Records press photo of Mascis, Murph, and Barlow before a name dispute caused them to add the lovably diminutive appellation to their moniker.
Even though Dinosaur Jr.'s reinvigorated trio lineup has proven yet again to be a fertile and stable partnership with Sweep It Into Space, in 2019 Mascis revisited the major-label releases the band put out during Murph and Barlow's mid-'90s absence, with a series of vinyl reissues. Given that project's proximity to Into Space, one can't help but wonder if any ideas from that '90s output seeped into the new album's tunes. "You definitely hear some songs, and it's like you didn't remember some of them at all," he says. "It's interesting when you record a song and never play it live and then hear it again 20 or 30 years later. You sometimes don't remember much about it. So it was cool to hear them again and wonder what I was thinking about when I wrote them. 'How'd You Pin That One on Me' off of Green Mind has a lot of slide, and the only time I'll ever reach for a slide is if I think a song really needs it, because I'm not very good at it. So it's interesting to hear myself playing slide. I usually don't like listening to people playing slide unless it's someone very specific. Something about slide guitar doesn't appeal to me that much. I like Mick Taylor's slide stuff, which wasn't too crazy."
The major-label years of the mid '90s had stranger things in store for Dinosaur Jr. than an unexpected slide guitar part, though. For example, the band made its television debut on Late Show with David Letterman in 1993, at a time when Letterman's house band typically backed up the show's musical guests. The performance saw Mascis and company rip through an impassioned, barnstorming version of "Out There," with Paul Schaffer and the rest of the Letterman band jamming along, And while that in itself is YouTube gold for fans of rock oddities, it gets better. David Sanborn spends the entire song blowing the living hell out of his saxophone from a perch in the background. It's a weird sound, but one that actually kind of works. Mascis remembers the experience fondly. "I was trying to encourage David Sanborn to jam out on the song, and all those guys are just sitting there, so I figured he might as well just play and see what it sounds like. I remember it being good, but I also remember a few sax notes seeming out of tune … which was surprising for Sanborn."
- Fender Releases the J Mascis Telecaster - Premier Guitar ›
- J Mascis Keeps It Loud! - Premier Guitar ›
- Forgotten Heroes: Ron Asheton - Premier Guitar ›
- Hooked: Blackwater Holylight on Dinosaur Jr 's "Feel The Pain" - Premier Guitar ›
- Rig Rundown: Dinosaur Jr.'s J Mascis [2022] - Premier Guitar ›
An '80s-era cult favorite is back.
Originally released in the 1980s, the Victory has long been a cult favorite among guitarists for its distinctive double cutaway design and excellent upper-fret access. These new models feature flexible electronics, enhanced body contours, improved weight and balance, and an Explorer headstock shape.
A Cult Classic Made Modern
The new Victory features refined body contours, improved weight and balance, and an updated headstock shape based on the popular Gibson Explorer.
Effortless Playing
With a fast-playing SlimTaper neck profile and ebony fretboard with a compound radius, the Victory delivers low action without fret buzz everywhere on the fretboard.
Flexible Electronics
The two 80s Tribute humbucker pickups are wired to push/pull master volume and tone controls for coil splitting and inner/outer coil selection when the coils are split.
For more information, please visit gibson.com.
Gibson Victory Figured Top Electric Guitar - Iguana Burst
Victory Figured Top Iguana BurstThe English guitarist expands his extensive discography with 1967: Vacations in the Past, an album paired with a separate book release, both dedicated to the year 1967 and the 14-year-old version of himself that still lives in him today.
English singer-songwriter Robyn Hitchcock is one of those people who, in his art as well as in his every expression, presents himself fully, without scrim. I don’t know if that’s because he intends to, exactly, or if it’s just that he doesn’t know how to be anyone but himself. And it’s that genuine quality that privileges you or I, as the listener, to recognize him in tone or lyrics alone, the same way one knows the sound of Miles Davis’ horn within an instant of hearing it—or the same way one could tell Hitchcock apart in a crowd by his vibrantly hued, often loudly patterned fashion choices.
Itchycoo Park
“I like my songs, but I don’t necessarily think I’m the best singer of them,” he effaces to me over Zoom, as it’s approaching midnight where he’s staying in London. “I just wanted to be a singer-songwriter because that’s what Bob Dylan did. And I like to create; I’m happiest when I’m producing something. But my records are blueprints, really. They just show you what the song could be, but they’re not necessarily the best performance of them. Whereas if you listen to … oh, I don’t know, the great records of ’67, they actually sound like the best performances you could get.”
He mentions that particular year not offhandedly, but because that’s the theme of the conversation: He’s just released an album, 1967: Vacations in the Past, which is a collection of covers of songs released in 1967, and one original song—the title track. Boasting his takes on Procol Harum’s “A Whiter Shade of Pale,” the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life,” Pink Floyd’s “See Emily Play,” and Small Faces’ “Itchycoo Park,” among eight other tracks, it serves as a sort of soundtrack or musical accompaniment to his new memoir, 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left.
Hitchcock, who was 14 years old and attending boarding school in England in 1967, describes how who he is today is encased in that period of his life, much like a mosquito in amber. But why share that with the world now?
In the mid ’70s, before he launched his solo career, Hitchcock was the leader of the psychedelic group the Soft Boys.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/tinnitus photography
“I’m 71; I’ve been alive quite a long time,” he shares. “If I want to leave a record of anything apart from all the songs I’ve written, now is a good time to do it. By writing about 1966 to ’67, I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
Hopefully, I say, the publication of these works won’t ring as some sort of death knell for him.
“Well, it’s a relative death knell,” he replies. “But everyone’s on the conveyor belt. We all go over the edge. And none of our legacies are permanent. Even the plastic chairs and Coke bottles and stuff like that that we’re leaving behind.... In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth. But I suppose you do probably get to an age where you want to try and explain yourself, maybe to yourself. Maybe it’s me that needs to read the book, you know?”
“I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
To counter his description of his songs above, I would say that Hitchcock’s performances on 1967: Vacations in the Past carve out their own deserved little planet in the vintage-rock Milky Way. I was excited in particular by some of his selections: the endorsement of foundational prog in the Procol Harum cover; the otherwise forgotten Traffic tune, “No Face, No Name and No Number,” off of Mr. Fantasy, the Mamas & the Papas’ nostalgic “San Francisco,” and of course, the aforementioned Floyd single. There’s also the lesser known “My White Bicycle” by Tomorrow and “I Can Hear the Grass Grow” by the Move, and the Hendrix B-side, “Burning of the Midnight Lamp.”
Through these recordings, Hitchcock pays homage to “that lovely time when people were inventing new strands of music, and they couldn’t define them,” he replies. “People didn’t really know what to call Pink Floyd. Was it jazz, or was it pop, or psychedelia, or freeform, or systems music?”
His renditions call to mind a cooking reduction, defined by Wikipedia as “the process of thickening and intensifying the flavor of a liquid mixture, such as a soup, sauce, wine, or juice, by simmering or boiling.” Hitchcock’s distinctive, classic folk-singer voice and steel-string-guided arrangements do just that to this iconic roster. There are some gentle twists and turns—Eastern-instrumental touches; subtly applied, ethereal delay and reverb, and the like—but nothing that should cloud the revived conduit to the listener’s memory of the originals.
And yet, here’s his review of his music, in general: “I hear [my songs] back and I think, ‘God, my voice is horrible! This is just … ugh! Why do I sing through my nose like that?’ And the answer is because Bob Dylan sang through his nose, you know. I was just singing through Bob Dylan’s nose, really.”
1967: Vacations in the Pastfeatures 11 covers of songs that were released in 1967, and one original song—the title track.
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“I wait for songs to come to me: They’re independent like cats, rather than like dogs who will faithfully trail you everywhere,” Hitchcock explains, sharing about his songwriting process. “All I can do is leave a plate of food out for the songs—in the form of my open mind—and hope they will appear in there, hungry for my neural pathways.”
Once he’s domesticated the wild idea, he says, “It’s important to remain as unselfconscious as possible in the [writing] process. If I start worrying about composing the next line, the embryonic song slips away from me. Often I’m left with a verse-and-a-half and an unresolved melody because my creation has lost its innocence and fled from my brain.
“[Then] there are times when creativity itself is simply not what’s called for: You just have to do some more living until the songs appear again. That’s as close as I can get to describing the process, which still, thankfully, remains mysterious to me after all this time.”
“In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth.”
In the prose of 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left, Hitchcock expresses himself similarly to how he does so distinctively in his lyrics and speech. Amidst his tales of roughing his first experiences in the infamously ruthless environs of English boarding school, he shares an abundance of insight about his parents and upbringing, as well as a self-diagnosis of having Asperger’s syndrome—whose name is now gradually becoming adapted in modern lexicon to “low-support-needs” autism spectrum disorder. When I touch on the subject, he reaffirms the observation, and elaborates, “I think I probably am also OCD, whatever that means. I’ve always been obsessed with trying to get things in the right order.”
He relates an anecdote about his school days: “So, if I got out of lunch—‘Yippee! I’ve got three hours to dress like a hippie before they put me back in my school clothes. Oh damn, I’ve put the purple pants on, but actually, I should put the red ones on. No! I put the red ones on; it’s not good—I’ll put my jeans on.’
Robyn Hitchcock's Gear
Hitchcock in 1998, after embarking on the tour behind one of his earlier acoustic albums, Moss Elixir.
Guitars
- Two Fylde Olivia acoustics equipped with Sennheiser II lavalier mics (for touring)
- Larrivée acoustic
- Fender Telecaster
- Fender Stratocaster
Strings & Picks
- Elixir .011–.052 (acoustic)
- Ernie Ball Skinny Top Heavy Bottom .010–.054 (electric)
- Dunlop 1.0 mm
“I’d just get into a real state. And then the only thing that would do would be listening to Trout Mask Replica by Captain Beefheart. There was something about Trout Mask that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa! This music is it.’”
With him having chosen to cover “See Emily Play,” a Syd Barrett composition, the conversation soon turns to the topic of the late, troubled songwriter. I comment, “It’s hard to listen to Syd’s solo records.... It’s weird that people enabled that. You can hear him losing his mind.”
“You can, but at the same time, the fact they enabled it means that these things did come out,” Robyn counters. “And he obviously had nothing else to give after that. So, at least, David Gilmour and the old Floyd guys.... It meant they gave the world those songs, which, although the performances are quite … rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“There was something about Trout Mask Replica that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa!’”
I briefly compare Barrett to singer-songwriter Daniel Johnston, and we agree there are some similarities. And then with a segue, ask, “When did you first fall in love with the guitar? Was it when you came home from boarding school and found the guitar your parents gifted you on your bed?”
Robyn pauses thoughtfully.“Ah, I think I liked the idea of the guitar probably around that time,” he shares. “I always used to draw men with guns. I’m not really macho, but I had a very kind of post-World War II upbringing where men were always carrying guns. And I thought, ‘Well, if he’s a man, he’s got to carry a gun.’ Then, around the age of 13, I swapped the gun for the guitar. And then every man I drew was carrying a guitar instead.”
Elaborating on getting his first 6-string, he says, “I had lessons from a man who had three fingers bent back from an industrial accident. He was a nice old man with whiskers, and he showed me how to get the guitar in tune and what the basic notes were. And then I got hold of a Bob Dylan songbook, and—‘Oh my gosh, I can play “Mr. Tambourine Man!”’ It was really fast—about 10 minutes between not being able to play anything, and suddenly being able to play songs by my heroes.”
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Hitchcock does me the kindness, during our atypically deep conversation—at least, for a press interview—of sharing more acute perceptions of his parents, and their own neurodivergence. Ultimately, he feels that his mother didn’t necessarily like him, but loved the idea of him—and that later in life, he came to better understand his lonely, depressive father. “My mother was protective but in an oddly cold way. People are like that,” he shares. “We just contain so many things that don’t make sense with each other: colors that you would not mix as a painter; themes you would not intermingle as a writer; characters you would not create.... We defy any sense of balance or harmony.
“Although the performances are quite rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“The idea of normality.... ‘Normal’ is tautological,” he continues. “Nothing is normal. A belief in normality is an aberration. It’s a form of insanity, I think.
“It’s just hard for us to accept ourselves because we’re brought up with the myth of normality, and the myth of what people are supposed to be like gender-wise, sex-wise, and psychologically what we’re supposed to want. And in a way, some of that’s beginning to melt, now. But that probably just causes more confusion. It’s no wonder people like me want to live in 1967.”
YouTube It
In this excerpt from the Jonathan Demme-directed concert film of Robyn Hitchcock, Storefront Hitchcock, the songwriter performs an absurdist “upbeat” song about a man who dies of cancer.
Designed in collaboration with Blu DeTiger, this limited-edition bass guitar features a Sky Burst Sparkle finish, custom electronics, and a chambered lightweight ash body.
"This bass is a reflection of everything I love about playing," said Blu DeTiger. "I wanted an instrument that could handle the diversity of sounds I create, from deep, funky grooves to melodic lines that cut through the mix. Fender and I worked closely together to make sure this bass not only looks amazing but sounds incredible in any setting."
Featured as the cover of the Forbes 30 Under 30 music list, Blu, who defines her musical style in the "groovy Indie” genre blending elements of Pop, Rock, and Funk, represents the next generation of pop music, earning accolades and a dedicated global fanbase with her work alongside top artists and successful solo releases. Bringing her signature sound and style, Blu marks a new milestone in her storied partnership with Fender and solidifying her influence on the future of music in creating the Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass.
Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass ($1,599.99) - From the Sky Burst Sparkle to the chrome hardware and mirrored pickguard, every detail on this Jazz Bass echoes Blu’s artistic vision. The offset ash body is chambered to keep this bass as lightweight and comfortable as possible. The satin finished maple neck, bound 9.5” rosewood fingerboard and vintage tall frets provide smooth playability. The Custom Blu DeTiger Fireball bass humbucker and Player Plus Noiseless Jazz Bass Pickups fuse vintage charm with modern punch. The bass also includes an 18V Player Plus preamp with 3-band EQ and active/passive toggle, great for sculpting your tone and ideal for capturing the funky snap and growl that defines Blu’s sound. With its inspired aesthetics, signature sonics and Blu-approved features, the Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass lets you tap into the infectious pop energy that keeps this star shining!
Her successful releases including "Figure It Out,” "Vintage," and recent album “All I Ever Want is Everything” have earned her accolades and sent her on the road to tour across the world to perform for her dedicated fanbase. Her distinct style of playing has also seen her play live with top tier artists such as Olivia Rodrigo, Bleachers, Dominic Fike, Caroline Polachek, Chromeo, and more.
Exploring the Limited Player Plus x Blu DeTiger Jazz Bass® | Fender Artist Signature | Fender - YouTube
The majestic Roland Space Echo is having a bit of a resurgence. Here’s a breakdown on what makes it tick, and whether or not it’s right for you.
In this article, we delve into one of the most cherished gadgets in my guitar collection, the Roland Space Echo RE-201. This iconic piece of equipment has been used by legendary musicians like Jonny Greenwood, Brian Setzer, and Wata from Boris, which only heightened my desire to own one. A few years ago, I was fortunate to acquire a vintage RE-201 in good condition and at a reasonable price.
Using the RE-201 today has its advantages and disadvantages, particularly due to its size, which is comparable to an amplifier head. When compared to modern equivalents like delay pedals or software plugins that closely emulate the original, the vintage RE-201 can seem inefficient. Here, I share my personal and subjective experience with it.
The RE-201 is a tape echo/delay effect that gained popularity in the 1970s and ’80s. Unlike the more complex analog BBD delays or digital delays, tape delays use magnetic tape to simultaneously record and play back sound via a magnetic tape head (similar to a guitar or bass pickup). Because the recording head and playback head are in different physical locations, there is a time gap during the recording and playback process, creating the “delay” effect. This concept was first discovered by Les Paul in the 1950s using two tape machines simultaneously.
However, this method has a drawback: The magnetic tape used as a storage medium has a limited lifespan. Over time, the quality of the tape degrades, especially with continuous use. This degradation is marked by muddy, wavy sounds and unavoidable noise. Yet, this is precisely where the magic of real tape echo lies! New tapes produce clearer, hi-fi sounds, while older tapes tend to produce wavy sounds known as “modulated delay.” Additionally, increasing the number of tape-head readers extends the gap time/delay time of the output, and activating multiple tape-head readers simultaneously creates unique echo/delay patterns.
“This degradation is marked by muddy, wavy sounds and unavoidable noise. Yet, this is precisely where the magic of real tape echo/delay lies!”
Just as how fuzz and distortion effects were discovered, the “imperfections” of tape also represent a historical fact about how the creative process in music follows an absurd, non-linear, and unique pattern. In everyday practical life, signal delay is something typically avoided; however, in a musical context, delay adds a deeper dimension. Today, it’s hard to imagine a pedalboard without a delay effect at the end of the chain.
This uniqueness inspired me to create Masjidil Echo, embracing the “imperfection” of a vintage tape echo/delay with magnetic tape that hasn’t been replaced for years. Many newer pedals, such as the Boss RE-20, Strymon El Capistan, and the Catalinbread Echorec and Belle Epoch, draw inspiration from vintage tape repeat machines. Each has its unique interpretation of emulating tape echo, all in a more compact and maintenance-free format. Real tape delay requires periodic maintenance and has mostly been discontinued since the mid 1980s, with Roland ceasing production of the Space Echo entirely in 1985.
However, in recent years, interest in real tape echo has surged, perhaps due to nostalgia for past technology. As a result, many vintage delay units have appeared on marketplaces at increasingly gargantuan prices! If you’re considering acquiring one, I recommend thinking it over carefully. Are you prepared for the maintenance? Will you use it for regular performances? Are you ready for the fact that magnetic tape will become increasingly difficult to find, potentially turning your machine into a mere display piece? I don’t mean to instill fear, but the real deal, in my opinion, still can’t be fully emulated into a more practical and future-proof digital format.
So, I’ll leave you with one final question for consideration: What if the genealogy of technology were reversed chronologically, with multihead/multitap delay discovered digitally in the 1950s, and in the 2000s, a technological disruption led to the invention of mechanical tape echo to replace digital technology? Which would you choose?