I am writing this column for two reasons: One, I was asked to and I thought "why not?" and two, I am a pedal geek. But I am serious about pointing out that, with all the chatter and obsessiveness surrounding equipment generally, and effects pedals specifically, all that matters is what you like.
That could just as well be an amplified wire hooked to a eucalyptus tree going into an old radio or some fabulous overpriced vintage guitar combined with a boutique amp and 23 Illuminati-approved effects pedals. Freedom of expression is what I am about, and gear is innocent fun! But please, let me invoke the brilliant Neil Young lyric that opens "Hippie Dream" before I undertake my arduously-considered mini-list of "essential" effects pedals" (I wish the number had been 10, and I already cheated and combined distortion, fuzz, and overdrive as one!): "Take my advice: don't listen to me"....
1. Volume
I have owned several volume pedals since the '70s. My first was a Morley with the photo-sensor system, and though cumbersome as hell and AC-powered, it was great. After compromising over the years with ones that are lighter and rather structurally unsound, I have ended up with the Boss FV-500. It looks like something on Buck Rogers' spaceship, and I have only broken two of them—which, for me, feels like victory. I use the volume pedal constantly and have ever since I got wind of Steve Howe and Robert Fripp in the early '70s. Constantly shaping/changing volume while keeping the same tone, the "violin effect" (swelling up just after picking), and keeping any single coil-derived 60-cycle hum at bay are just a few reasons why I rely on this item so heavily. That said, holding one foot on the volume pedal while keeping my weight on my other foot has taken a bit of a toll on my aging skeleton, though I am able to use either foot.
2. Distortion/Fuzz/Overdrive
This could quickly become overly complicated ... but I like distortion, and nowadays we delineate between "fuzz," "overdrive," and "distortion," so I will cave and do it as well.
Fuzz: I own a zillion fuzzboxes. I don't often acquire them as part of a search for "classic" fuzz sounds, however. This is a beautiful time for boutique effects pedals, and there are so many great ones out there, and I love them: the Fulltone '69 (classic), Uglyface (ultra-wild), Creepy Fingers MkI (classic), Catalinbread Octapussy (classic), Mid-Fi Electronics Random Number Generator (super sick), and the Devi Ever Soda-Meiser and/or White Spider (classic and sick) are just a few favorites. But the one I always bring along is the Z.Vex Fuzz Factory. Henry Kaiser turned me onto this thing ages ago, and I use it both in its wild, aleatoric mode and in a narrowed, "castrated" mode (after other pedals, which tames it) with equal effectiveness and joy. With Wilco, I use it in "tamed" mode for near-infinite controlled feedback and serious grunge. The pedals themselves are now rather legendary for their fabulous look—I treasure my custom-painted little Z.Vex boxes. I also use the Fuzz Factory on many an improvised music gig for all kinds of sonic mayhem—from sublime to vile. I rely on it!
Overdrive: I am one of those Klon Centaur cultists. This is another box that Henry Kaiser turned me on to years ago—when one could actually buy one! Back then (late '90s), it was the most expensive pedal I'd ever bought at more than $300, but now ... forget it! The thing is so great sounding, versatile, has plenty of gain, cleans up nicely, yet can drive hard. But what to do if you can't spend $650+ on the rare one you might see on eBay? Simple: get a Sarno Music Solutions Earth Drive. I have never seen one in a store, and I am not sure that Brad Sarno and his lovely wife are ready for an onslaught of orders (should I be sorry?), but the thing is inexpensive and almost as fabulous as a Centaur. It's much smaller, so it's what I bring on trips with my own band/improvisers (I must travel with lots of little pedals wrapped in socks in a little Pelican case when not with mighty Wilco).
I admit to not understanding the Tube Screamer thing—that mushy, underpowered green box. Sorry! So take this (and everything I write here) with several grains of salt. I've also enjoyed overdrive items by Crazy Tube Circuits, Fairfield Circuits, JAM Pedals, Catalinbread, and Walrus Audio. Henry K. even showed me the delights of the Tech 21 Randy Bachman pedal! But again, just use what works for you.
Distortion: I ended up loving the '70s-era Marshall Guv'nor distortion after many Pro Co Rat years. But the input/output jacks disintegrate and nothing fits into those big holes left after that plastic decays. The Z.Vex Box Of Metal almost stole my heart with its super-shaping tone knobs and cool gate option (it is good). Then I discovered the Crazy Tube Circuits Starlight, which is just as rich and creamy as a Rat or Guv'nor but has even more oomph—more presence (whatever that means). Made in Greece and marketed by Tone Concepts in Toronto, it's a killer. I am still a bit baffled as to why there are so few "distortion" options as opposed to "fuzz" and "overdrive," but as a previously-admitted Howe and Fripp guy, sometimes I want loud, creamy-with-definition, sustaining distortion for soaring, non-screeching melodic wailing. Between my old Guv'nors and the Starlight, I can get it.
Cline's late 2011 Wilco pedalboard is home to some of his favorite overdrive, distortion, and fuzz pedals: the Klon Centaur, Z.Vex Fuzz Factory, and Crazy Tube Circuits Starlight, among other tone toys.
3. Compression
I use the humble and sometimes maligned Boss CS-3 compressor pedal and have for ages. I played with two guitarists in the '80s who turned me on to the advantages of the compressor pedal: Nick Kirgo (in a band I was in called BLOC) and Bill Frisell (when we played together with Julius Hemphill). I usually use the compressor as a clean boost plus sustainer. It brings idiomatic sounds out of my guitar such as harmonics and string sounds behind the bridge and above the nut. It enables me to play a clean sound over any looping (my old looper requires a constant balancing act between the loop and the playing levels). And sometimes the compressed tone is just damn pleasing. I like the latch on/off on Boss pedals a lot—especially on the compressor when one can kick it in midstream and it just squishes on rather than pops on. I also really dig the Pigtronix Philosopher's Tone, which Jimmy Vivino turned me on to. I think it sounds better than the CS-3. but I'm an old dog.
4. Delay/Echo
The inimitable Electro-Harmonix 16 Second Digital Delay on Cline's board.
I used to always use an Echoplex for delay until it became too unwieldy—and back in the late '80s people actually ridiculed me for using it along with "stompboxes" instead of rack units and MIDI controllers. I sigh sadly as I ponder how many of those alleged "essentials" are rusting in landfills as I write this. Anyway, I now prefer a Keeley-modded Boss DD-3 pedal. The Keeley modifications provide some "warmer" delay effects choices while I am still able to get my old DD-3 weirdness happening (as in, really fast, heavy repeat-laden, digital-sounding, electro spazz-outs that I can cut on and off with no trail off). And, of course, I can get simple, tasteful bounce. I can get by with a plain old DD-3, too, but the Keeley one is just a bit better. I am not married to delay and reverb the way many guitarists seem to be, but I do want it when I want it. I also adore the Electro-Harmonix Deluxe Memory Man, Fulltone Tube Tape Echo, and the like, but try carrying all that stuff around in an under-50-pound suitcase! Runner up in the "Super Cool" and "Original Delay Dept.": the new Catalinbread Echorec, which has wild multi-delays and warble modeled on the classic Binson Echorec—beautiful. And it's small!
5. Looper
This last pick was almost a tie between the DigiTech Whammy Pedal and the mention of my antiquated and super-scarce Electro-Harmonix 16 Second Digital Delay (which would have been even more cheating on my part). I use them both all the time. I much prefer the original Whammy (the smaller red one) and have had some really aggravating experiences with the newer, "reissue" (the big red one that's not really a reissue at all—it's just red). But I am so lost without my old EH 16 Second. I have used it since Bill Frisell showed me his (he is the master) back in 1985. It's always recording, one can drop sounds into the loop non-destructively, do reverse (everything does reverse these days, but alas), it's small, It's magic. It's also rare as hens' teeth, and after writing this column it may be even more difficult to get! Too bad. To me, it's one of the coolest things ever, and I rarely leave home without it. I have tried other things; the nice folks at Electro-Harmonix even gave me a wonderful 2880 to mollify me since their "reissue" also wasn't a reissue and didn't do what the old one did at all, and I'd whined loudly and irritatingly about it. I think it was the first gratis piece of gear I ever got, and it came with a sweet note from Mike Matthews and everything—amazing! But sadly for me, the EHX 16 Second DD is all I like (try to find one and then try to afford one—my first one I got used for $225). It's become a part of my playing and my sound, especially in my own music (The Nels Cline Singers, et al), and with improvisers.
Well, that's it. Take from it what you will. I am just ... me. I hook up all my stuff and think to myself every time: "I have so much fun wherever I go!" Enjoying, making, manipulating, surrendering to the world of sound. You can do it with almost anything—clap your hands together, or hum, or whatever it is you do ... just enjoy.
[Updated 11/8/21]
- Rig Rundown - Wilco's Nels Cline - Premier Guitar ›
- Nels Cline and Julian Lage: Gnarly Humanist and the Twenty ... ›
- 10 Pro Pedalboards Revealed - Premier Guitar ›
- Wilco's Jeff Tweedy, Nels Cline & Pat Sansone Talk About Their New Album Cruel Country - Premier Guitar ›
- Wilco's Jeff Tweedy, Nels Cline & Pat Sansone Talk About Their New Album Cruel Country - Premier Guitar ›
- Wilco Announce New Album - Premier Guitar ›
- Nels Cline: The Wilco Guitarists' Diverse Background - Premier Guitar ›
![Rig Rundown: Umphrey’s McGee [2025]](https://www.premierguitar.com/media-library/youtube.jpg?id=60219771&width=600&height=600&quality=85&coordinates=280%2C0%2C280%2C0)
Guitarist William Tyler, a restless sonic explorer: “I would get bored staying in the same place.”
Mastering an instrument and an artistic style—and then being recognized and rewarded for it—is a daunting enough accomplishment that one might be forgiven for feeling that, once reached, it’s the be-all to end-all. Guitarist William Tyler, for all the praise and opportunity that have come his way over the past decade and a half, isn’t content to plow the same furrow. With his evolutionary new album, Time Indefinite, this son of the South is pushing further afield, not completely forgoing his virtuosic neo-Americana lyricism but incorporating it into static-friendly, otherworldly studio experimentation.
The disorienting opener of Time Indefinite, “Cabin Six,” begins with a loop of hovering blare that, lasting nearly a minute, might lead listeners to think something is amiss with their turntable stylus; this gradually dissipates into an eddy of railroad-like whine from which a chiming 6-string hook emerges only to finally sink into a murky, detuned drone. The simple, lovely “Anima Motel” and almost naïve “Concern” are eminently approachable, and “Howling at the Second Moon,” with its alternate, Joni Mitchell-inspired tuning, feels like something that could have appeared on one of Tyler’s previous albums (even if it was recorded on his iPhone then texturized via a bump to a cassette recorder and dosed with added effects). But the distressed sonic sculptures of “The Hardest Land to Harvest” and “Electric Lake” or the sampled, distorted church choir laced through “Star of Hope” have a ghostly resonance unlike anything the guitarist has done before.
SoundStream
“I think it’s important for artists to push themselves into new ways of working,” Tyler says. “Most of my favorites, artists I follow over the long trajectory of their careers, have done that, whether it’s in music, film, visual art, novels. Of course, some people have a method or style that they stick to, and it serves them. And I wouldn’t want to put anything out into the world that I wouldn’t myself, as a consumer, enjoy spending time with and taking seriously. That said, I would get bored staying in the same place. The new record is about making something that was a little less chained to certain kinds of guitar music, where I felt like I might be running up against my creative limitations or enthusiasms in that area. I wanted to reinvent myself for myself, to explore fresh possibilities, even with the guitar as my primary tool.”
Tyler, whose parents were hitmaking Nashville songwriters, made his name early on as a young guitar phenom playing in such alternative-minded, country-influenced bands as Lambchop and Silver Jews, before appearing on the fourth volume of the influential Tompkins Square “Imaginational Anthem” series of new-era American Primitive guitar and then making his full-length debut as a solo artist with the 2010 album Behold the Spirit. As a player and composer, he was recognized for subsuming the early influence of John Fahey and the Takoma style into something vibrantly his own.
Tyler keeps his tools simple and his ears open.
Photo by Angelina Castillo
William Tyler’s Gear
Guitars
- Mid-1950s Martin D-18
- 1974 Gibson SG
Pedals
- Hologram Electronics Microcosm
- Strymon El Capistan
- Line 6 DL4 Mark II
Once Tyler signed to the stalwart indie-rock label Merge, the guitarist released a string of warmly received electro-acoustic albums: Impossible Truth (2013), Deseret Canyon (2015) and Modern Country (2016). There was also a marvel of a solo performance at Nashville’s Third Man Records released as an LP in the “Live at Third Man” series. A few years later came the album Goes West, its title alluding to a pre-pandemic move to Los Angeles, and its arrangements flecked with atmospheric swirls and sunny, almost pop-like touches. Tyler also created an aptly rustic score for First Cow, director Kelly Reichardt’s 2019 art house Western, and the guitarist capped his Merge run in 2023 with Secret Stratosphere, a live album of soaring full-band versions of numbers from his back catalog, credited to William Tyler’s Impossible Truth.
“I wanted to reinvent myself for myself, to explore fresh possibilities, even with the guitar as my primary tool.”
Tyler has released covers of such disparate artists as Alex Chilton, Michael Chapman, Fleetwood Mac, Yo La Tengo and Neu!/Harmonia’s Michael Rother, not to mention classical composers Handel and Dvorák. The broad listening palette suggested by these choices always pointed toward a more intrepid path. But the album that most presaged the spirit of Time Indefinite is New Vanitas, a small masterpiece of pandemic creation that found him threading beautiful, involved guitar melodies through hypnagogic soundscapes, often haunted by lo-fi snatches of radio broadcasts and sotto-voce dialogue, as on the evocatively titled “Slow Night’s Static.” New Vanitas even includes a woozy track called “Time Indefinite,” the foreshadowing title a favorite that he borrowed from a film by documentarian Ross McElwee.
On Time Indefinite, Tyler says, “I was drawn to more ambient music, including by guitarists like Christian Fennesz and Norman Westberg, but also groups like Stars of the Lid and Boards of Canada.”
Another signpost on Tyler’s new road was a collaboration with Four Tet’s Kieran Hebden that yielded the folktronica single “Darkness, Darkness.” Then last year brought the standalone track “Flight Final,” Tyler’s first release for the artist-led imprint Psychic Hotline, and a slice of musique concrète that brings to mind Brian Eno’s association with German “kosmische” pioneers Harmonia and Cluster. That recording, the first fruit of an association with collaborator and co-producer Jake Davis, set the stage for their work together on Time Indefinite. Most of the pieces on this album, whether blown-out lullabies or spectral hymns or folk-art abstractions, feel like memories refracted in a dream diary.
“The process of working on this album helped me get better at tempo, just feeling more comfortable playing slower.”
“The new album started out as a series of experiments, without necessarily thinking that they were going to make for a whole record—though, eventually, Jake and I heard a thematic coherence to what we were coming up with,” Tyler explains. “It took a long while to come together, but the roots of the music are in the Covid lockdown. The emotional landscape of that time changed the things I was listening to as well as the music that was coming out of me. I was drawn to more ambient music, including by guitarists like Christian Fennesz and Norman Westberg, but also groups like Stars of the Lid and Boards of Canada. I had gone back to Nashville and was dealing with a problematic mental state. Among other issues, I can tend to approach things too fast, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Beyond using different recording techniques and learning new ways of creating a piece of music, the process of working on this album helped me get better at tempo, just feeling more comfortable playing slower.”
The guitars Tyler used in the studio for Time Indefinite were his “family heirloom” Martin D-18 and a beloved Gibson SG, both of which are his main live instruments. For effects pedals, he favored a Hologram Electronics Microcosm (“for low-pass filter looping and really weird granular stuff”) and a Strymon El Capistan (“for delays kind of like the old Electro-Harmonix Memory Man”), though Davis also did a lot of processing with an array of his own. One serendipitous piece of gear was a 1959 Webcor Regent reel-to-reel machine deck that Tyler liberated, still new in the box, while helping to clear out his grandfather’s storage space in Mississippi. Davis was inspired to make old-school tape loops with it, including that startling sound that opens the album. Tyler would play arrhythmic, asymmetrical parts that Davis would record and chop up for the loops.
Tyler at this year’s Big Ears Festival with Jake Davis and Cecilia Stair.
Photo by Ross Bustin
Tyler’s recent spate of collaborations, from Davis and Four Tet to pedal-steel guitarist Luke Schneider, “has kept me on my toes, challenged me and recharged me,” he says. “The insularity of being a solo instrumentalist and writing everything by yourself can be freeing at first. And it can be motivating, as when I first started learning how to play fingerstyle guitar, with all the practicing. But I don’t like the isolation of it now. These days, I prefer working with other people. It pushes you into other genres, those different modes of communication.”
Another recent colleague, Marisa Anderson, has credited Tyler for his open, venturesome spirit as a studio partner, with his default attitude of “yes” when they were making their absorbing duo album, Lost Futures. “That was something I really enjoyed about playing with William—he was up for everything,” she said. “I was like, ‘There’s the diving board,’ and he’d say, ‘Let’s go.’”
“These days, I prefer working with other people. It pushes you into other genres, those different modes of communication.”
Tyler is quick to credit artists and albums that have inspired him. Along with the aforementioned players, he namechecks a vast range of others, from Jimmy Page to Jeff Parker, Bill Frisell to Fred Frith, Bruce Langhorne to Nels Cline, William Ackerman to Sandy Bull. Tyler muses about how some of his Nashville session heroes should “have gotten weirder…. I wish Chet Atkins had dropped acid, listened to a Sonny Sharrock LP, and made his own noise record, you know?” Regarding his touchstones for sonic left turns, he points to Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, as well as Talk Talk’s emotive, avant-minded swansongs Spirit of Eden and Laughingstock.
“Those two Talk Talk albums are beyond masterpieces, with some great guitar playing,” Tyler says. “They were in essence made by an artist, Mark Hollis, who did not care about being commercial anymore and certainly not about being able to replicate the stuff live. When Jake and I were recording ‘Howling at the Second Moon,’ that sort of attitude was a reference point, kind of like, ‘Well, instead of trying to get away from the lo-fi weirdness of my original iPhone demo, why don’t we lean into it?’”
Ever thoughtful and candid in conversation, Tyler has been exceptionally transparent about coping with personal loss and midlife crises, as well as going to rehab for the over-indulgence of alcohol. Knowing that, one can hear grief and anxiety in the whorls of Time Indefinite, with the passages of guileless 6-string representing a nostalgia for less complicated times. “It’s a mental landscape record for sure,” he says. “For fans of my previous albums, it might not hit the same way, I realize. But I hope this record says to people that it’s all right to take chances with how you express yourself, with how naked and raw that can be. It has a purposeful arc and is meant to prompt things that aren’t super fashionable in today’s ephemeral, constant-content culture, like deep listening, emotional ambiguity, self-reflection, you know?”YouTube It
This three-song set from last year showcases the expansive cosmic country sound of Tyler and his Impossible Truth band, which includes a Kraftwerk cover.
Tom Bedell in the Relic Music acoustic room, holding a custom Seed to Song Parlor with a stunning ocean sinker redwood top and milagro Brazilian rosewood back and sides.
A born storyteller, Bedell doesn’t keep his passion to himself. On Friday, May 12, at New Jersey boutique guitar outpost Relic Music, Bedell shared some of the stories he’s collected during his life and travels as part of a three-city clinic trip. At Relic—and stops at Crossroads Guitar and Art in Gilbertsville, Pennsylvania, and Chuck Levin’s Washington Music Center in Wheaton, Maryland—he discussed his guitars and what makes them so special, why sustainability is such an important cause, and how he’s putting it into practice.
Before his talk, we sat in Relic’s cozy, plush acoustic room, surrounded by a host of high-end instruments. We took a look at a few of the store’s house-spec’d Bedell parlors while we chatted.
“The story of this guitar is the story of the world,” Bedell explained to me, holding a Seed to Song Parlor. He painted a picture of a milagro tree growing on a hillside in northeastern Brazil some 500 years ago, deprived of water and growing in stressful conditions during its early life. That tree was eventually harvested, and in the 1950s, it was shipped to Spain by a company that specialized in church ornaments. They recognized this unique specimen and set it aside until it was imported to the U.S. and reached Oregon. Now, it makes the back and sides of this unique guitar.
A Bedell Fireside Parlor with a buckskin redwood top and cocobolo back and sides.
As for the ocean sinker redwood top, “I’m gonna make up the story,” Bedell said, as he approximated the life cycle of the tree, which floated in the ocean, soaking up minerals for years and years, and washed ashore on northern Oregon’s Manzanita Beach. The two woods were paired and built into a small run of exquisitely outfitted guitars using the Bedell/Breedlove Sound Optimization process—in which the building team fine-tunes each instrument’s voice by hand-shaping individual braces to target resonant frequencies using acoustic analysis—and Bedell and his team fell in love.
Playing it while we spoke, I was smitten by this guitar’s warm, responsive tone and even articulation and attack across the fretboard; it strikes a perfect tonal balance between a tight low-end and bright top, with a wide dynamic range that made it sympathetic to anything I offered. And as I swapped guitars, whether picking up a Fireside Parlor with a buckskin redwood top and cocobolo back and sides or one with an Adirondack spruce top and Brazilian rosewood back and sides, the character and the elements of each instrument changed, but that perfect balance remained. Each of these acoustics—and of any Bedell I’ve had the pleasure to play—delivers their own experiential thumbprint.
Rosette and inlay detail on an Adirondack spruce top.
Ultimately, that’s what brought Bedell out to the East Coast on this short tour. “We have a totally different philosophy about how we approach guitar-building,” Bedell effused. “There are a lot of individuals who build maybe 12 guitars a year, who do some of the things that we do, but there’s nobody on a production level.” And he wants to spread that gospel.
“We want to reach people who really want something special,” he continued, pointing out that for the Bedell line, the company specifically wants to work with shops like Relic and the other stores he’s visited, “who have a clientele that says I want the best guitar I can possibly have, and they carry enough variety that we can give them that.”
A Fireside Parlor with a Western red cedar top and Brazilian rosewood back and sides.
