With her solo career now in bloom, Meg Duffy has become a bandleader, assembling a group to tour behind her masterful album Wildly Idle (Humble Before the Void).
An in-demand indie collaborator and her trusty Strat step into the spotlight with an artfully layered solo debut, Wildly Idle (Humble Before the Void).
There's an old debate among musicians on the topic of musical literacy. Some claim that a working knowledge of theory and notation detracts from creativity, while others say the more you know, the greater your musicianship.
Meg Duffy, 26, a formally trained guitarist and singer-songwriter in Los Angeles by way of upstate New York, makes a strong case for the latter argument. Duffy's command of fretboard harmony and her melodic inventiveness—not to mention her mastery of effects pedals—have made her a busy collaborator. In the last several years, she's enhanced the music of indie artists like Kevin Morby, Mega Bog, and Weyes Blood, among others.
But Duffy's vision is best appreciated by spinning her debut LP, Wildly Idle (Humble Before the Void), which she released under the name Hand Habits. On the album, she sets her songs—as well as poetry by Kayla Ephros, Catherine Pond, and Lucy Blagg—to rich soundscapes that beckon you to peel back and discover their many sonic layers.
Reached via telephone, Duffy explained how she arrived at these uncanny sounds, how she captured them in the bedroom of a Los Angeles house, and about how music theory has informed her creative decisions.
some amazing effects.
There are so many great guitar sounds on Wildly Idle. What's their primary source?
I just used one electric guitar, and I've only ever had one. It's a Fender Lone Star Strat with a rosewood fretboard and single-single-hum Seymour Duncans. I use the tremolo system a lot. I made it really tight with an extra spring, too, because I don't like it when it has a lot of give. It's just not as physical when it's loose.
Why do you only have one guitar?
I've never found another guitar that I like that I was willing to spend money on. I've been thinking about getting a Jaguar or a Mustang, though. I want something that I can play behind the bridge. I had the pleasure of opening for Wilco, with another group that I play in, and it was great to hear those pointy sounds from behind the bridge. But yeah, I haven't gotten another guitar because I love mine so much.
What's your history with that Strat, and why do you love it so much?
It was the first guitar I ever bought for myself. I started out on an Austin Strat copy. After about a year, my uncle Richard, who is a luthier, was like, “Okay, now you should get a real guitar," and he took me to a place called Parkway Music in Clifton Park, New York. I went in wanting a white or seafoam green one, but I ended up liking this sunburst Strat so much I bought it. It was 900 bucks, which was a lot, because I was 18 and about to go to college.
The neck always feels so good to me. And I love the way the way the guitar sounds, although as my ear is evolving, I'm starting to recognize why it would be nice to have another guitar, in terms of tone. I don't always like the midrange on it.
Duffy's debut album as Hand Habits was recorded mostly in her bedroom using an Avid Mbox interface, Pro Tools, and a few borrowed microphones.
Maybe part of it is sentimental. I feel I've built up a relationship with my guitar. I know it so well, and I can pull off the things I want to execute on it. It's like driving a car.
Let's talk about the rest of the gear. What effects and amps did you use on the record?
I was originally using a vintage Music Man that was left in the house that I was recording in. I tracked a couple of rhythm guitars on that, and then it started to shit the bed. It wasn't having any output at all, and those things are notoriously heavy. I also didn't have a car, so I was like, “I can't really fix this. I can't bring it anywhere." I also didn't want to put money into it, because it wasn't mine.
And then, halfway through making the record, I bought a Fender Hot Rod Deluxe. That's always a fun amp I go back to because it's so simple and it has a lot of bass. I tend to roll off the high end on anything I do. I started using that amp, and then—I don't know if it was a tube problem or there was something rattling within the cabinet—any time I'd play the note D, it would rattle. That started driving me nuts, so I recorded the rest of the guitar on the album direct, through an [Avid] Mbox.
What about effects?
I have a bunch of pedals, which were always in the mix. I used an [Ibanez] TS9DX [Turbo Tube Screamer], which I keep on the TS9 setting. I also use a Boss Mega Distortion, which is really cool. I have a Strymon El Capistan that I use on guitar, as well as vocals, because the reverb sounds great, and it always adds a nice fake-tape sound. Their stuff is so good. I wish I could afford more.
I love using a Diamond Quantum Leap delay—especially in the pitch ramp mode—and after that I'll put the Strymon, with a really long decay time, so I get a lot of oscillation. The Quantum Leap's pitch ramp is foot-controllable, and when I hold down the footswitch, it gives off a subtle “whoo"—a lot more subtle than other pitch-shifting pedals.
And then there's the looping. I use a [Line 6] DL4 to build soundscapes, and I also have the Electro-Harmonix 45000, a 4-track looping recorder that includes some amazing effects. I like to run both loopers at the same time.
Duffy plays only one guitar, a Fender Lone Star Stratocaster, but lately has been eyeing Jaguars and Mustangs, so she could get “those pointy sounds" by plucking strings behind the bridge. Photo by Chantal Anderson
The guitars sound very lush. Are you using anything for reverb?
Yes. I have a reverb pedal, the DigiTech Polara, that came out not that long ago. I feel like DigiTech gets a bad rap, except for the older stuff, but I really love it, especially the Hall and Halo settings.
What is your musical background?
I started playing guitar and listening to mostly classic rock and blues, because I had an uncle who was playing guitar in a cover band, doing Led Zeppelin and Stevie Ray Vaughan and stuff like that. I was into Stevie Ray Vaughan when I first started playing guitar. I'd listen to his version of “Little Wing" and think, “Wow, I wish I could do that with a guitar." It just sounded so physical.
I was in a lot of cover bands playing that kind of music in high school, jamming with friends, but I was also in the jazz band, even though I couldn't read music yet. I would go home after I got the music and spend hours trying to turn it into tab. After I graduated high school, I went to Schenectady County Community College for guitar performance. I was the only female in my guitar program.
do that with a guitar.'"
What was that like?
It just made me feel that I wanted to be better than the boys at everything I did, always. I had a really good teacher, who was mostly a bluegrass player. I was in a pick-style program. We learned a lot of chordal melodies and we would have to read through Paganini pieces, too. But then, for my recitals, I would always play jazz chordal melodies. I think the last piece I performed was “Misty" or something like that. There was a lot of improv going on, and I always played a lot with people in the program.
How did you get into songwriting?
Once I was out of college, I taught guitar for a little while, and I started writing songs about that time. I didn't really share them with anyone. I think I was still writing, at that point, in a theory brain, because of all the part writing and voice leading I'd studied and become obsessed with. I would write all these weird guitar parts that I would now put on and be, like, “This is lame." I wasn't accessing this part of the rest of the creativity that I'm learning how to access now. It took me a little while to bridge the gap between having all this knowledge and being able to apply it with a creative mind.
What do you think helped you bridge that gap?
Just not being afraid of simple chord changes. Not being afraid of a I–IV–V progression, or staying in the key of G major, or just playing what comes to me, rather than “How can I make this interesting first?"
Meg Duffy's Gear
GuitarsFender Deluxe Lone Star Stratocaster with Seymour Duncan pickups
Amps
Fender Hot Rod Deluxe
Effects
Boss DD-7 Digital Delay
Boss MD-2 Mega Distortion
Diamond Quantum Leap QTL1 Delay
DigiTech Polara Reverb
Electro-Harmonix 45000 Multi-Track Stereo Looping Recorder
Ibanez TS9DX Turbo Tube Screamer
Line 6 DL4 Delay Stompbox Modeler
Strymon El Capistan dTape Echo
Strings and Picks
D'Addario EXL116 strings (.011–.052)
Dunlop Jazz III picks
These days, do you ever feel tempted to use more advanced harmonic concepts, or is it something that you've moved beyond?
I think that there's a lot of it in my playing, even when I'm not aware of it. I was in a session a couple months ago, and I wasn't thinking I was playing anything theoretically advanced, but the guy who hired me said, “Wow, you're in that mode up there. What is that?" To me, it's just that I'm using the major scale in a different way. It's not something that most contemporary pop, folk-rock people think about when they're writing.
Would you say your training has given you a wider range of options when it comes to diatonic harmony?
For sure. And I always go back to the sentiment that when someone's really well read, and they have studied philosophy or language, they're usually able to express a very intricate thought without overwhelming someone with language.
Where did you record the album?
I recorded two of the songs, “All the While" and “In Between," in Saugerties, New York, with the help
of my friend Kevin Laureau. We co-engineered, and he helped me with a little arranging on one song.
The rest of it I recorded in my bedroom in a house in Highland Park [a historic Los Angeles neighborhood]. I'd just moved there, and Jeremy [Earl] from [the record label] Woodsist had heard some of my older songs and was really into them. He said, “We should do a record," and at first I thought, “Okay, cool, but I don't know when I'll have enough songs," because I wasn't really writing that much. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, I was surprised at how much I started writing.
But in terms of recording, I was creating all these roadblocks for myself, and venting to friends: “I don't know how I'm going to do this record. I think I'm going to have to work a lot first, and I want to go into a studio." Then I thought, “These are all problems that I'm creating for myself. I have an Mbox and Pro Tools on my computer. I can borrow microphones and I can just do this on my own."
After graduating high school, Duffy went to Schenectady County Community College for guitar performance. She was the only female in the guitar program. Photo by Robbie Simon
What gear did you end up borrowing?
In terms of microphones, I borrowed a Shure SM7B and a Blue Dragonfly, one of those condenser mics, which sounded great on vocals. As for Pro Tools, I was using the LE version, and just whatever basic plug-ins come with that. I'm a big fan of the stereo pan—there's a lot of hard panning on the record.
What did you learn from the process of recording yourself?
Anything I didn't know how to do, I just looked at a YouTube tutorial—things like how to automate reverb without creating another track. If I couldn't find an answer or didn't have the capability, I would try to figure out how to do it a different way, which was cool.
It sounds like you sweated the details.
I'd actually try not to spend that much time on every track. I've been in recording situations without time constraints, and I think people can get really obsessed with options, in terms of getting sounds. I didn't have a lot of experience, obviously, up until this point. So I made a promise to myself not to spend too much time on the sonics.
In terms of songwriting, do you start off with a strong idea of what you want before tracking or do you write your songs as part of the recording process?
I usually have a strong idea of what I want a song to sound like—at least for the rhythm section—and it's usually very simple. My process is, like, “Oh, I'm going to record a scratch guitar and vocal, and then I'll record over it and just do a lot of layering."
Obviously, there's a lot of overdubbing, because it was just me. A lot of the songs started with just a guitar and me singing a scratch vocal, and then I would add the real guitar and the real bass before spending a lot of days trying to come up with some cool percussion parts.
On “All the While," you play some slide guitar, first just single notes, and then harmonized, with some intriguing effects.
That was just me running my guitar through a [Boss] DD-7. During the take, Kevin live-manipulated the oscillation, to get it to feed back. The DD-7 pedal was before that Diamond Quantum Leap that I was telling you about, with the pitch modulation. It's super subtle, but you can kind of hear the warble at the end of it.
“Book on How to Change" has other cool guitar moments, like the spontaneous lead lines beneath the surface.
I did a couple passes of that one where I was like, “Okay, I'm just going to solo over the whole thing, and see what I get." There are some cool little riffs in there that I was pretty proud of. I feel I should apologize to Nels Cline for ripping him off so much, but he's my hero. And then just a lot of the soundscape building was fun because it's like jamming with yourself.
You're going on tour soon and will presumably be playing these songs with a band. What do you think that will be like?
I'm still learning how to communicate to a band how I want things played, especially since I made the record mostly on my own. Actually, I'm rehearsing these songs with other people for the first time next week, and it'll be interesting because I get a little bit protective of some parts. There are so many subtleties that come out of making a record, and then the songs kind of grow around the recording, and they feed into each other.
It'll be fun to let go of that—a little bit at least—and allow the other players to have their own voices within these songs I've created. I'm interested in facilitating a good time for people, too, musically speaking, and something that's fulfilling for them, as well as for me and the listeners.
YouTube It
In this recent solo performance recorded live in Paris, Meg Duffy creates a huge shimmering sound with her trusty Fender Lone Star Stratocaster and delay pedals.
Columnist Janek Gwizdala with heroes Dennis Chambers (left) and Mike Stern (right).
Keeping your gigging commitments can be tough, especially when faced with a call from a hero. But it’s always the right choice.
Saying “yes!” to everything early on has put me in a place now where I can say no to almost everything and still be okay. That wasn’t without its challenges. I’d like to share a story about a “yes” that would haunt me for years.
As bass players, we can, if we choose, quite easily find ourselves in a wide variety of situations without having to change much about our sound or our playing. If your time is good and you’re able to help those around you feel good and sound better, the telephone will pretty much always ring.
Playing jazz as an electric-bass player living in New York City from 2000 to 2010 was somewhat of a fool’s errand in terms of getting work. No one wanted electric bass, and bandleaders would go to the bottom of a list of 100 upright players before they would even think about calling you. Not only that, but I wasn’t even at the top of the electric list when I first moved there. Not even close. Anthony Jackson, Richard Bona, Will Lee, Tim Lefebvre, James Genus, Lincoln Goines, Mike Pope, John Benitez, Matthew Garrison—that’s a who’s who of the instrument when I first moved to town, and I was very much a freshman with almost no experience. Almost…
I’d been lucky enough to play extensively with Kenwood Dennard (Jaco’s drummer), and a little with Hiram Bullock (Jaco’s guitarist) before moving to NYC which helped create a little momentum, but only a VERY little.
This is where the story begins:
I’d sent Mike Stern a demo back in late ’97. He’d not only taken the time to listen to it but had called my parents’ house right after I moved to the U.S. to tell me he loved it and wanted to hang. I missed the call but eventually met him at a clinic he gave at Berklee.
Of course, I was buzzing about all of this. It helped me stay laser-focused on practice and on moving to NYC as soon as possible. I got the typical “look me up when you get to town” invitation from Stern and basically counted the seconds through the three semesters I stayed at Berklee until I could split town.
I arrived with a ton of confidence but zero gigs. And nothing happened overnight. It really took saying yes to literally everything I was offered just to keep a roof over my head. Through that process, I felt like I was getting further away from playing with my jazz heroes.
The early gigs were far from glamorous—long hours, terrible pay, and sometimes, after travel expenses, they cost me money to play.
“Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroes—the reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do.”
When Stern finally called, a few years into living in NYC, things started to move pretty quickly. I began playing a lot of gigs at the 55 Bar with him, and short road trips became a thing—a four-night stint at Arturo Sandoval’s new club in Miami, gigs in Chicago, Cleveland, and upstate New York, and then some international work, including a tour of Mexico and a trip to Brazil, if I remember right.
But the hardest phone call of my career came from Mike not long into my time touring with him. It went something like this:
“Hey man, what’s your scene in April? Lincoln can’t make a trip to the West Coast. It’s just one gig. Trio… with DENNIS CHAMBERS.”
Mike didn’t shout Dennis’ name, but that’s how I heard it. My all-time hero. Someone I’d been dreaming about playing with for over 15 years. And here’s the kicker: I had to say no.
I’d just committed to six weeks with Jojo Mayer’s band Nerve in Asia and Europe, and there was no way I could bail on him. And there was no way I could afford to ditch six weeks of work for a single gig with Mike. To say that haunted me for years is an understatement. I was destroyed that I had to turn it down.
The tour with Jojo was amazing—the posters hang in my studio as a reminder of those times to this day. And thankfully, I was able to go on some years later and play dozens of shows with Mike and Dennis all over the world—truly some of the highlights of my career.
I still think about that phone call, though. Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroes—the reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do. I get emotional writing and thinking about it even now. But I've learned to never have regrets and understand you just have to believe in the process and maintain the willpower to continue—no matter what.
New RAT Sound Solution Offers a Refined Evolution of Distortion
ACT Entertainment ’s iconic RAT brand has unveiledthe Sterling Vermin, a boutique distortion guitar pedal that blends heritage tone with modernrefinement. With a new take on RAT’s unmistakable sound, Sterling Vermin delivers a new levelof precision and versatility.
“The Sterling Vermin was born from a desire for something different — something refined, withthe soul of a traditional RAT pedal, but with a voice all its own,” says Shawn Wells, MarketManager—Sound, ACT Entertainment, who designed the pedal along with his colleague MattGates. “Built in small batches and hand-soldered in ACT’s Jackson, Missouri headquarters, theSterling Vermin is a work of pure beauty that honors the brand legacy while taking a bold stepforward for creativity.”
The Sterling Vermin features the LM741 Op-Amp and a pair of selectable clipping diodes.Players can toggle between the traditional RAT silicon diode configuration for a punchy, mid-range bite, or the BAT41 option for a smoother, more balanced response. The result is a pedalthat’s equally at home delivering snarling distortion or articulate, low-gain overdrive, with a wide,usable tonal range throughout the entire gain spectrum.
The pedal also features CTS pots and oversized knobs for even, responsive control that affordsa satisfying smoothness to the rotation, with just the right amount of tension. Additionally, thepolished stainless-steel enclosure with laser-annealed graphics showcases the merging of thepedal’s vintage flavor and striking design.
“From low-gain tones reminiscent of a Klon or Bluesbreaker, to high-gain settings that flirt withBig Muff territory — yet stay tight and controlled — the Sterling Vermin is a masterclass indynamic distortion,” says Gates, an ACT Entertainment Sales Representative. “With premiumcomponents, deliberate design and a focus on feel, the Sterling Vermin is more than a pedal, it’sa new chapter for RAT.”
The RAT Sterling Vermin is available immediately and retails for $349 USD. For moreinformation about this solution, visit: actentertainment.com/rat-distortion .
The Miku was introduced about 10 years ago and is based on the vocal stylings of Hatsune Miku, a virtual pop icon. But it does much more than artificial vowels and high-pitched words.
It’s tempting to think of this pedal as a joke. Don’t.
It all started a few years ago through a trade with a friend. I just wanted to help him out—he really wanted to get a fuzz pedal but didn’t have enough cash, so he offered up the Korg Miku. I had no idea then, but it turned out to be the best trade I’ve ever made.
Here’s the truth: the Korg Miku is not your typical guitar pedal. It won’t boost your mids, sculpt your gain, or serve up that warm, buttery overdrive you’ve always worshipped. Nope. This little box does something entirely different: It sings! Yes, sings in a Japanese kawaii accent that’s based on the signature voice of virtual pop icon Hatsune Miku.
At first glance, it’s tempting to dismiss this pedal as just a gimmick—a joke, a collector’s oddity, the kind of thing you buy for fun and then forget next to your Hello Kitty Strat. But here’s the twist: Some take it seriously and I’m one of those people.
I play in a punk band called Cakrux, and lately I’ve been working with a member of a Japanese idol-style girl group—yeah, it’s exactly the kind of wild mashup you’d ever imagine. Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, the Miku found its way into my setup, and weirdly enough, it stuck. It’s quirky, beautiful, occasionally maddening, and somehow … just right. After plenty of time spent in rehearsals, studio takes, and more sonic experiments than I care to admit, I’ve come to appreciate this pedal in unexpected ways. So here are a few things you probably didn’t know about this delightfully strange little box.
It’s Not Organic—and That’s OK
Most guitar pedals are chasing something real. Wah pedals mimic the human voice—or even a trumpet. Tube Screamers? They’re built to recreate the warm push of an overdriven tube amp. Cab sims aim to replicate the tone of real-world speaker setups. But the Miku? It breaks the mold. Instead of emulating reality, it channels the voice of a fictional pop icon. Hatsune Miku isn’t a person—she’s a vocaloid, a fully digital creation made of samples and synthesis. The Miku doesn’t try to sound organic, it tries to sound like her. In that sense, it might be the only pedal trying to reproduce something that never existed in the physical world. And honestly, there’s something oddly poetic about that.
A World-Class Buffer
Here’s a fun fact: I once saw a big-name Indonesian session guitarist—you know, the kind who plays in sold-out arenas—with a Miku pedal on his board. I was like, “No way this guy’s busting out vocaloid lines mid-solo.” Plot twist: He only uses it for the buffer. Yep, the man swears by it and says it’s the best-sounding buffer he’s ever plugged into. I laughed … until I tried it. And honestly? He’s not wrong. Even if you never hear Miku sing a note, this pedal still deserves a spot on your board. Just for the tone mojo alone. Wild, right?
“The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn’t work for your music, but somehow, it just does.”
Impossible to Tame
Most pedals are built to make your life easier. The Miku? Not so much. This thing demands patience—and maybe a little spiritual surrender. First off, the tracking can be finicky, especially if you’re using low-output pickups. Latency becomes really noticeable and your picking dynamics suddenly matter a lot more. Then there’s the golden rule I learned the hard way. Never—ever—put anything before the Miku. No fuzz, no wah, no compressor, not even a buffer! It gets confused instantly and says “What is going on here?” And don’t even think about punching in while recording. The vocal results are so unpredictable, you’ll never get the same sound twice. Mess up halfway? You’re starting from scratch. Same setup, same take, same chaotic energy. It’s like trying to recreate a fever dream. Good luck with that.
Full Range = Full Power
Sure, it’s made for guitar, but the Miku really comes to life when you run it through a keyboard amp, bass cab, or even a full-range speaker. Why? Because her voice covers way more frequency range than a regular guitar speaker can handle. Plug it into a PA system or a bass rig, and everything sounds clearer, richer, way more expressive. It’s like letting Hatsune Miku out of her cage.
The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn't work for your music, but somehow, it just does. Is it the best pedal out there? Nah. Is it practical? Not by a long shot. But every time I plug it in, I can’t help but smile. It’s unpredictable, a little wild, and it feels like you’re jamming in the middle of a bizarre Isekai anime scene. And honestly, that’s what makes it fun.
This thing used to go for less than $100. Now? It’s fetching many times that. Is it worth the price? That’s up to you. But for me, the Korg Miku isn’t just another pedal—it’s a strange, delightful journey I’m glad I didn’t skip. No regrets here.
Two guitars, two amps, and two people is all it takes to bring the noise.
The day before they played the coveted Blue Room at Third Man Records in Nashville, the Washington, D.C.-based garage-punk duo Teen Mortgage released their debut record, Devil Ultrasonic Dream. Not a bad couple of days for a young band.
PG’s Chris Kies caught up with guitarist and vocalist James Guile at the Blue Room to find out how he builds the band’s bombastic guitar attack.
Brought to you by D’Addario.
Devilish Dunable
Guile has been known to use Telecasters and Gretsches in the past, but this time out he’s sticking with this Dunable Cyclops DE, courtesy of Gwarsenio Hall—aka Jordan Olds of metal-themed comedy talk show Two Minutes to Late Night. Guile digs the Dunable’s lightness on his shoulders, and its balance of high and low frequencies.
Storm Warning
What does Guile like about this Squier Cyclone? Simple: its color. This one is also nice and easy on the back, and Guile picked it up from Atomic Music in Beltsville, Maryland.
Crushing It
Guile also scooped this Music Man 410-HD from Atomic, which he got just for this tour for a pretty sweet deal. It runs alongside an Orange Crush Bass 100 to rumble out the low end.
James Guile’s Pedalboard
The Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and Hiwatt Filter Fuzz MkII run to the Orange, while everything else—a DigiTech Whammy, Pro Co Lil’ RAT, and Death by Audio Echo Dream 2—runs to the Music Man. A TC Helicon Mic Mechanic is on board for vocal assistance, and a TC Electronic PolyTune 3, Morley ABY, and Voodoo Labs Pedal Power 3 Plus keep the ship afloat.