The guitar and bass legends get existential as they discuss everything from the evolution of their songwriting partnership to how raging Marshall Silver Jubilees and thumping Orange bass amps brought a raw, gutsy vibe to their new steampunk-inspired album, "Clockwork Angels."
Photos by Ken Settle
If there’s one band on the planet that’s made it cool for musicians to be … well, uncool, it’s Rush. Because let’s face it—the intelligent, chops-heavy prog rock that Geddy Lee (vocals/bass/keyboards), Alex Lifeson (guitars), and Neil Peart (drums/lyrics) have become synonymous with over the last 30-plus years will never completely escape the stigma of being considered overwrought, stodgy, and even nerdy.
But with 1980’s “The Spirit of Radio”—a tune that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ranked as one of the top 500 most genre-defining—the dudes raked in fame and glory with brainy, multisyllabic bashing of the very industry and medium that made their careers possible, and they did it over a backdrop of swirling pull-off licks, distorted bass, and tour de force drumming that was somehow still catchy. Their encore? The next year they pilloried modern society at large with “Tom Sawyer”—a chops-laden, darkly futuristic anthem that even hardcore deriders of prog can’t help but dig.
Today, Rush is arguably the longest running, most original, and most influential progressive rock band ever. Their influence can be heard in major bands ranging from Pantera to Smashing Pumpkins, Primus, Death Cab for Cutie, the Mars Volta, Coheed and Cambria, and countless others. And yet, through innumerable musical fads they’ve remained staunchly committed to big ideas, grand arrangements, and stellar, instantly identifiable musicianship—rich, unorthodox chording, odd-meter riffing, and ethereal solos from Lifeson, and a finger-busting mix of Jack Bruce’s beef, Jaco Pastorius’ finesse, and a funk master’s groove from Lee. But they’ve also been flexible and open-minded enough to not come across as stagnant and stubborn. In the process, they’ve managed to get more radio play than just about any of their peers, scoring bona fide hits with songs like “Fly by Night,” “Closer to the Heart,” “Freewill,” “Limelight,” and the aforementioned classics. But even when their collective open-mindedness led to sonic evolutions that didn’t sit well with some longtime fans—specifically, the synth-heavy output from 1982–1989 that seemed to push Lifeson into a more atmospheric and textural approach—the band has remained unapologetically forward-looking.
With the release of this year’s Clockwork Angels, the Canadian legends prove they haven’t changed their devil-may-care attitude one bit. A steampunk concept album that finds the band bringing subtle keyboard and piano elements back into the mix, Clockwork is chock-full of classic Rush hallmarks—from Lifeson’s gloriously echoing, “Limelight”- like solo in “The Anarchist” to Lee’s jaw-droppingly nimble-fingered breakdown in “Caravan” and the newfound fire in Peart’s drum work. But there are also fresh elements that make it perhaps the band’s most listenable outing in years. Lee’s singing, particularly on the beautifully simple “The Garden,” exhibits more control and nuance than on any other Rush record, and several songs are augmented with lush string arrangements.
We spoke to Lee and Lifeson at the tail end of the seven-week rehearsals for their current world tour about everything from the writing and recording of Clockwork to the secrets of their longevity and their extreme gear nerdery—from Lee’s Orange amps and ’72 Jazz-bass fetish to Lifeson’s recent addiction to Marshall Silver Jubilee amps.
Was there anything unusual about how
you recorded Clockwork Angels?
Lee: Only in the sense that, listening back
to [2007’s] Snakes and Arrows, I saw a record
that we probably had more overdubs than we
needed. I think that comes from underestimating
the fullness of the sound of the three
of us playing. So, having the benefit of touring
quite a bit from the time we made that
record, and to play some of the new material
that we’d written on tour, we learned a lot
about ourselves. I think the live experience
has informed our writing over the last few
years. This album is a direct result of that.
You’re not talking about overdubs of things
like solos, though. You’re talking about layers—
numbers of overlapping parts.
Lee: Yeah, layers. We just had this tendency
to hear music in a dense way, and I think
that even though we streamlined the way
we were writing, we were choking some of
the parts—some of the interesting stuff was
being obscured by too many parts. So when
we approached this record, that was very
much in the back of our minds. If we were
going to have an overdub, we better have a
damn good reason.
That said, Alex, you’ve really perfected the
art of layering guitars with different timbres
and tonalities. How much of that do
you hear when you’re writing tunes, and
how much of it comes to you as you’re into
the track up to your elbows in the studio?
Lifeson: A lot of it does come to me
beforehand. I hear a lot of things—and
then, once I start exploring, I hear a lot of
other things [laughs]. But that’s the real fun
for me. I can sit and do that sort of thing
for hours and hours and hours. I’m always
looking for something that nobody’s ever
heard or trying to take a sound and modify
it in a way that’s fresh and different.
Some of the new songs—like the title
track—have a really live, spontaneous feel.
Did you track any parts together this time?
Lifeson: Sometimes, but not very often.
Typically, Ged and I will work in [Apple] Logic
with a drum machine or samples, and then
we’ll give that to Neil and he’ll work on his
drum arrangements, and then we’ll develop it
from there. But with this record, we gave him
the music and there ended up being a lot of
changes in the lyrics as we went along. When it
came to actually recording, Nick [Raskulinecz,
co-producer] wanted to record off the floor
from the first day forward—which was really
unusual and a big surprise for Neil, but he
embraced it and ended up loving it. His playing
is just a lot wilder and less thought out. It’s
more reactive to music that, in a lot of ways,
he’s hearing for the first time. Nick really prodded
him to take different approaches—so it
was really quite a palette. Consequently, when
he’d get drum tracks done at the end of the day,
we’d import them back into Logic, and then
redo our parts to what he’d done, and we’d
bounce back and forth like that a couple of
times … sometimes four or five versions. And
then, once those drum parts were established,
we’d go in and redo all our parts.
Alex Lifeson basks in the echoing glory of his favorite new signature Les Paul at a September 18 show in Auburn Hills, Michigan. “I gravitated to [it] for probably 60 percent of the record,” he says.
This is the way we’ve worked for a long time—we seldom work off the floor. For us, it’s much more efficient and pleasurable to work in this manner where we have our own space in the studio, we can focus on what we’re doing, and you’re not doing take after take after take because somebody slipped up somewhere and you have to go back and start over again. We’ve tried doing it live, and it’s kind of fun—and I understand the merit in it—but for the complexity of our music and the focus that’s required, it’s much more efficient to work this way. We’re all there—everybody’s in the studio at the same time, and everybody’s a cheerleader—but the actual performances work better this way. Once you’re used to is, it’s just as satisfying as playing live, but it’s easier because you’re not struggling to hear yourself and all those things that just defeat the purpose of why you’d do it live anyway. If you’re going to do it off the floor, you better do the take perfectly right from the start.
Did that new MO about minimizing
overdubs affect Alex’s parts primarily,
or did it also affect bass lines?
Lee: If you’re limiting the amount of keyboards
you’re going to use—which seemed
to be a mandate early on [laughs]—then it
falls down to the guitar player to fill out
the sound. I thought we could get away
without that, and Alex agreed a hundred
percent. By the same token, he had strong
feelings about my layering: For a few
records there, I was really layering my voice
with multipart harmonies all the time, and
he wanted to see a more direct approach
with my vocals this time—less harmony, or
at least just very specifically used harmony.
Did that change in how you approached
the vocals affect how you approached the
bass parts?
Lee: Not really. The bass kind of goes where it
needs to to make the song vibrant—what the role
of the bass is changes from song to song. In some
moments in the song, “The Anarchist,” for example,
that bass melody holds that chorus together.
So that was driving the chorus, and when I wrote
the vocal melody it really had more to do with
how those lyrics needed to be expressed, and I
found to my dismay [laughs] when I came to
rehearse them, that they were very difficult to
do at the same time. I feared that bass line, and
I made sure I went into rehearsal extra early
this year. I’m a big believer in the 10,000-hour
series—I put a lot of hours into that!
In the past, I wrote bass patterns that were connected to the vocals in a way that allowed me to do it live without killing myself or tying my brain into a pretzel, but this time I kind of let that go because I just felt it was better for the music to go where it needed to, and worry about the best possible vocal melody for the song afterwards. So that’s how it came together—as two separate players: Me, as a bass player on this album, was a separate guy than me as a singer.
Was that bass part in “The Anarchist”
difficult because of the physicality of the
fingering or because of the conflicting
harmonies and rhythms?
Lee: It’s the syncopation—or the lack of
syncopation. Rhythmically, the way the
bass drives and the way the vocal sits on it
are really quite different.
In the intro to “Clockwork Angels,”
it sounds like the synth intro to “The
Camera Eye” [from Moving Pictures] is
playing backward in the background.
There’s also an ascending, flanged unison
riff near the beginning of “The Anarchist”
that sounds like a nod to “Red Barchetta.”
Are these intentional nods to the past, or
is it just a coincidence due to the fact that
it’s coming from the same guys?
Lee: No, there are some not-so-subtle nods
to the past, like, in “Headlong Flight”—which is a very obvious “Bastille Day”
redux—but what you’re describing I think
is just coincidence.
John “Skully” McIntosh, bass tech for Geddy Lee for the past three years, was on hand to take care of both the basses and guitars during the Clockwork Angels sessions. Here he details Lee’s main gear for the new album and tour.
All That Jazz
Lee’s No. 1 bass is a black ‘72 Fender Jazz bass
“that has been seen time and time again, onstage
and in photos, and to which all other bass guitars
are compared,” McIntosh says. “This instrument
carries most of the weight during the show.”
The pickups are original, though the bridge pickup was rewound to virtually original specs by Tom Brantley at Mojo Tone in North Carolina in 2010. That same year, it was outfi tted with its third neck—a maple Fender Custom Shop version with a 9" radius, white binding, and aged pearl block inlays. According to McIntosh, it has “a little more mass than the typical Geddy Lee-style neck,” and like all of Lee’s basses, the back of the neck has a rubbed oil fi nish. It’s set up very straight, with extremely low string height and fast action. The medium-weight alder body features an aged pearl pickguard custom-engraved by James Hogg with the alchemical symbol for amalgamation. Says McIntosh, “All the touring basses have scratch plates engraved and paint-fi lled by James with various alchemical symbols.” Like all of Lee’s Jazz basses, No. 1 has a Badass II bridge.
Lee’s No. 2 bass is a sunburst ‘72 Fender Jazz with a neck made by Mike Bump at the Fender Custom Shop in 2011. It’s used as his main backup and for “Seven Cities of Gold” and “Wish Them Well” off the new album. Like No. 1, it has a 9"-radius maple fretboard, but the binding and block inlays are black. Its pickups were made by Brantley at Mojo Tone and are based on No. 1’s.
When performing “Bravado” (from Roll the Bones), Lee plays a black ’74 Jazz with a neck just like that on his No. 1. “It has the original pickups,” McIntosh says mysteriously, “but with a little voodoo inside to get just a little something more out of them.” All three ’70s basses have the original tuners and string trees.
Lee’s “elegant” candy apple red Fender Custom Shop Jazz bass has an ash body with a maple cap. It has a slightly narrower neck than his ’70s basses, but still has a 9"-radius maple fretboard. “This bass has been around for a while and has Custom Shop pickups in a ’60s-style spacing,” McIntosh explains. Lee uses it for “2112,” as well as “Halo Effect,” “The Wreckers,” and “The Garden” from Clockwork. His backup for the red Jazz is a sunburst Fender Geddy Lee signature bass.
For “The Pass” (from 1989’s Presto), Lee plays a D-tuned black Jazz bass assembled from parts—including a Mike Bump-built Custom Shop neck and pickups by Tom Brantley. McIntosh says Lee also recently received a new Custom Shop surf green Jazz bass built by Jason Smith that will be used on four songs.
All of Lee’s basses, regardless of tuning, are strung with Rotosound Swing Bass RS66LD (.045–105) sets, and they’re outfitted with Levy’s Leathers straps and Jim Dunlop Straploks.
A Clockwork Orange ... and Sansamp, Palmer, and Avalon
McIntosh says Lee’s Clockwork tour amplification
rig is unlikely to change much from the
previous tour. “However, you can never count
out the possibility of a change or addition of a
piece of gear. The bass rig is an ongoing evolution
that will never cease.”
Lee’s signal goes through a Shure UHF-R system that’s switched via a Kitty Hawk MIDI Looper to an Axess Electronics splitter. “From there, the signal goes out in parallel to a SansAmp RPM preamp, a Palmer PDI- 05 speaker simulator, an Avalon U5 DI, and an Orange AD200 MK3 amplifier—which, in turn, drives another Palmer PDI-05. A Rivera RockCrusher power attenuator provides a load for the Orange. These four lines then run direct to the P.A.” Lee and McIntosh prefer running the Orange with new-oldstock GE 6550 power tubes. “They have a little less warmth than the [JSC Svetlana] ‘winged Cs,’” McIntosh explains, “but they have more clarity and sparkle in the high end, which works better with the high-gain distortion setting we run the amp with.”
For the Clockwork Angels sessions, an Orange 4x10 cabinet was mic’d in place of the second Palmer and RockCrusher used on the road, but McIntosh says that, on the current tour, Lee isn’t using speaker cabinets in his bass rig. Further, the band isn’t using any monitors onstage other than the subs that augment the Logitech Ultimate Ears in-ear monitors they all wear.
“On tour, this arrangement is supplemented by Brad Madix at F.O.H. [front of house mixing] and Brent Carpenter on monitors,” says McIntosh, “who each add a fifth channel of tweed-Bassman-flavored amp modeling through the console." McIntosh also says that, other than subtle changes dialed in by Madix or Carpenter, Lee’s bass-rig settings do not change from song to song.
How do you choose when and what to
reference in those nods to your back
catalog—is it just spur-of-the-moment
studio cheekiness?
Lee: Yeah, it’s a bit of cheek. But, also—like
with “Headlong Flight”—it was kind of an
accident: Alex and I were jamming, and we
go, “Oh, [expletive]—did we just rewrite
“Bastille Day”? [Laughs.] Because we had
assembled that into a complete instrumental
song at that point, and at first we were
happy to let it be kind of a cheeky nod to
the past. So the song was finished, but then
I got lyrics from Neil and realized that, at
this part of the story, [the protagonist of the
album’s storyline] is looking back over his
life and thinking back over his life—thinking
about things that he regrets, things he
doesn’t regret—and the main line is “I wish
that I could live it all again.” So, it seemed
oddly appropriate that we were reminding
ourselves of where we’d been, too.
Alex, how did you get that choppy
effect on the guitar at the beginning of
“Clockwork Angels”?
Lifeson: That’s from one of the plug-ins I
use. It was doing this funny thing where,
when you’d go through the song and then
stop and go back to the beginning and
hit play, that effect would happen. It’s not
recorded as part of the file, but it’s like an
artifact or a regeneration of the plug-in that
would always happen unless you went to the
end of the song and ended it. We kind of got
off on it, and Nick loved it, so he said, “Let’s
start the song with that thing!” I used an
atmospheric Guitar Rig plug-in for the “As if
to fly … ” section just before the bridges, too.
Which guitars did you use on that song?
Lifeson: I used my ’76 ES-355 for all the verses—I love playing that guitar, and it sounds
really, really good. It’s such a ballsy, woodsy
sound. I used that quite a bit on the whole
album. I used my Gibson J-150 for the slide at
the end of the solo. I used a ’59 Tele reissue for
most of the clean stuff on the album, like the
cleaner bridge parts of that song, and then
the Les Paul on the “As if to fly” parts.
The openings of “Carnies” and “Wish Them
Well” have some of the most ferocious guitar
tones on the album—the latter has a bit of
a snarling, Angus Young vibe to it.
Lifeson: We were going for that big, open
rock vibe with “Wish Them Well.” That song
went through three complete rewrites. We
just weren’t happy with it as we went along,
but finally it came together and had the kind
of vibe that we wanted at that point in the
record. I think I used my ’59 Les Paul for
that. It was really a lot of fun to record that,
because there are those big, open rock chords,
and Neil’s drumming is just so straight ahead.
On “Carnies,” it’s riffy at the beginning, which I quite enjoy, and then there’s the choruses. And there, again, I used a Guitar Rig plug-in on one of the guitars, and it sounded a bit like a carousel.
Was it a rotary-speaker plug-in?
Lifeson: It’s in their special-effects listing,
and it’s called “Soundtrack” or something
like that. It has so much junk on it—it has
sort of a rotary sound, and it fades in and
out, and it’s manipulated in so many ways.
I was drawn to it because it had the sound
of a merry-go-round …
So it sort of mimicked the chaos and
craziness of a carnival …
Lifeson: Yeah, yeah, exactly.
The intro to “BU2B2” has a bit of a
spaghetti-Western vibe with the acoustic
and the slow, tremolo’d electric—that’s a
new feel for a Rush album.
Lifeson: Oh, yeah that—I forgot about that!
[Laughs.] That was fun to do. We were in
L.A. mixing the record, and we wanted to
insert this little bit of a lyric or a presence
that Neil wanted to have in there, and we
thought, “How can we add to it without
taking away, and make it something different—but not another song?” So we recorded
that in my hotel room, Geddy and I. We
stuck the mic outside and recorded the
morning traffic and sounds of Los Angeles
from our hotel room, and then I did the
acoustic tracks and threw a vocal track on it.
The tremolo-picked chords in the verses
of “The Wreckers” are also sort of a
new feel for you guys—there’s a hint of
romantic, traditional Italian or French
music. What inspired that?
Lifeson: We struggled to get something to
feel right in those verses. I was playing arpeggios
and block chords, and everything sounded
clumsy and nothing was working. After a
few hours of experimenting, I just turned the
volume down a little bit and we got a shimmery
sound, and I just did this fast strumming.
It seemed to fit the mood really, really
well. It didn’t get in the way of anything, and
it provided a nice foundation for Geddy and
Neil—and the lyric, especially.
Let’s talk gear for a bit. Geddy, you have a
history of being pretty adventurous with
bass choices—from the Rickenbacker
doubleneck you used on “Xanadu” to
your Steinberger and Wal basses in the
’80s. Even though you’ve been relying
on Fender Jazz basses for the last several
years, have any new, off-the-beaten-path
instruments caught your eye recently?
Lee: I’m pretty hardcore Fender right now. I’ve
had a few instruments given to me that I’ve
played with. I’ve got a beautifully made Spector
bass that I’ve played around with and quite
like, but it doesn’t sound like how I want to
sound right now. Aside from that, not really—I’ve just been getting deep into Fender land.
Do you ever break out those old basses—the Rick, the Steinberger, or the Wals?
Lee: I do. For this album I pulled a lot of
things out to see what they would sound like.
In fact, we got very heavily into the differences
between Fenders themselves—because I have
a lot of different kinds of Jazzes. Skully—John
McIntosh, my tech—has been working with
Fender to put together different kinds of pickups.
At one point, before we started recording,
we actually had five different vintage Jazz
basses, and we were A/B’ing them with the
exact same riffs, just to get into the nuances
of how different they sounded. And they
do sound quite different—even though, to
the layman, it might be quite esoteric—but
we quite noticed all the differences and
used them appropriately on this album.
I used about four different Fenders while
making this record.
What can you tell us about those four?
Lee: My No. 1 Jazz bass is from ’72, and
I used that on the majority of the songs. I
have another ’72 that I found recently in a
shop in Toronto. We cleaned that up and
Skully put a different set of pickups in it,
and it has a bit more of a raw sound—a
little less deep and a bit more alive—and
I used that on “Seven Cities of Gold” and
“Wish Them Well.” I really like it—I’m
playing it live, as well. It doesn’t quite have
the punch in the bottom end that my No. 1
has, but it’s got a nice midrange growl to it.
I also have a red Fender Custom Shop Jazz bass that I use that, for some reason, just has a deeper tone and a little less spiky top end—or more elegant top end. I guess “elegant” is a weird word to use in a rock band, but anyway … [laughs] I use that for some of the softer things, like “The Wreckers” and “The Garden.” And then I also have a ’74 Jazz bass that I found, and it has a really interesting sound. It’s deep, kind of like my original ’72, but it doesn’t quite have all the same attributes. I’m using all of those live, as well [see sidebar for a complete list of Lee’s gear].
Is your No. 1 1972 bass stock?
Lee: Pretty much. We’ve tweaked the
pickups over the years—only when they
kind of break—but I try to keep it as true
as possible to the original instrument.
Is it just a coincidence that your two
favorite basses are ’72s, or have you
pinpointed something about Jazzes
from that year that you really like?
Lee: Well, I’ve had such a hard time replicating
the sound I get out of my [first]
’72 that I’ve been looking for another
bass from that period to see if they
match. So I found this other ’72, which
happens to be a sunburst. They use different
wood, usually, when it’s a sunburst
than when it’s a painted body—obviously
for the grain. But these two are only a
few hundred numbers away from each other,
in terms of their serial numbers, so it’s very
odd to me that they don’t sound exactly the
same, and the only thing I can put it down
to is the wood and the aging of the wood.
Alex, how long have you had the Tele
you used for the clean parts on the new
album—and is it all stock?
Lifeson: I’ve had that one for about 20
years, and it’s got a Badass bridge, and the
neck has been sanded down to bare wood. I
think the pickups are stock, though.
Did you find yourself gravitating to one or
two specific guitars for the whole album,
or was it all over the map?
Lifeson: It’s funny—I got one of my All
Axcess [Les Paul] models that they’d done in
black, and it was one of those guitars where
you go, “Holy shit—this thing sounds amazing!”
I like the way they all sound—I’m very
happy with them and we worked really hard
to make a really good guitar—but this thing
just sounded so good through every amp I
had in the studio. I gravitated to that guitar
for probably 60 percent of the record.
Geddy Lee plays his No. 1 ’72 Jazz bass while working a Korg MPK-130 MIDI Pedal Keyboard housed in a retro-sci-fi custom pedalboard case.
Does it have the same specs as your other
signature guitars?
Lifeson: It’s funny. After I played it for a bit,
I emailed Pat Foley at Gibson and I said, “Pat,
what’s up with this guitar? It sounds amazing!”
And he said that sometimes it’s just the
combination of the wood and the way it’s all
put together, but he also said they wanted to
do a small run of solid-color models. There
were requests for that, but sometimes you also
get an imperfection in the finish of one of the
translucent ones, so they do a solid color on
it to save the guitar. Something happens with
the solid colors—there’s more paint on it, and
maybe that has something to do with it, but
everything else is the same. Whatever it is, it
just has a nice growl to it. It translates really
well—you really get a sense of the pick against
the strings. It’s got that little grit to it.
So Alex, you mainly used the Tele, the
355, and the black Axcess Les Paul?
Lifeson: Yeah, but I probably used 20
guitars on the record [see sidebar for a complete list]. I used a
beautiful PRS electric 12-string—it sounds
fantastic and is so lovely to play. I had the
Ricky 12-string, which is exactly the opposite.
It’s a nasty, angry guitar that does not
want to stay in tune and bites my fingers—but it looks so cool! [Laughs.]
Let’s switch to amplification. Geddy, did
you use DI boxes and amps in the studio?
Lee: Yeah. I used a whole combination of
devices, and I bring them up on separate
inputs. I use a Palmer speaker simulator on
one input, a SansAmp RPM on another,
and the Orange amplifiers on the other.
Basically, I set it to “stun” in the room!
How does your touring rig differ from
what you used in the studio?
Lee: It’s pretty much the same. Brad Madix,
our front-of-house sound guy, has all those
separate rails, and he can mix and match
them according to the song.
Alex, you’ve been a pretty stalwart Hughes
& Kettner guy for a while now. Did you
use them again for this album?
Lifeson: No, I didn’t. I made a change this
year. I used a Marshall Silver Jubilee 2553.
It’s a 25-/50-watt amp from the ’80s. I also
used one of the new Mesa/Boogie Mark Five
heads—it’s got, like, nine amps in it. I loved
the way that sounded for all the clean stuff. I
also had a 50-watt Marshall, Marshall 2x12
combos that I got way back in the ’80s, a
Bogner, and other stuff.
I’ve used Hughes & Kettner gear for quite a few years, and I love their equipment. It’s excellent, and they’re great people to work with, but I felt that after so many years it was time for a change. I really wanted my guitar sound to be a little different this tour. So I started out with that setup—the Boogie and the Marshall, with a Hughes & Kettner Coreblade to augment some different effects. And then Skully found this company [Mojo Tone] that handwires amps in North Carolina, and they built me an amp called the Lerxst Omega—Lerxst is my nickname—and we based it on what I liked about that Marshall. It sounds fantastic. Really nice saturation, great warmth. I’m really, really happy with it. I think part of the reason I got tired of Hughes & Kettner is that we were running three channels in the one amp, and I was finding that when I was switching between the channels I was getting some noise—thumps—and after hearing the Marshall I thought the sound was a little bit thin, a little processed compared to a screaming, single-purpose amp. I understand that that’s a bit of a compromise, and it’s certainly no reflection on the Hughes & Kettner gear, but it was time for a change for me.
Did you use the Lerxst Omega in the
studio, or is it just for the tour?
Lifeson: No, that didn’t come out until
we were in our final stage of rehearsal.
I used the Marshall for the primary
rehearsals for six weeks, and then that
arrived and, sadly, the Marshall now
resides in a case somewhere [laughs].
So which amps are you taking on the road?
Lifeson: I’m taking the Lerxst and a
backup, a Mesa/Boogie Mark Five and a
backup, and a Coreblade with a backup.
I’m also using [Apple] MainStage, so I’m
accessing all the Guitar Rig plug-ins and
Universal Audio plug-ins—which, by the
way, are just awesome plug-ins.
One more gear question: Alex, you’ve
always been a purveyor of gorgeous
washes of delay. What’s your favorite
delay device right now?
Lifeson: Right now I’m using Fractal
Audio Axe-Fx IIs for just about all of the
outboard effects. I have two delay patches,
two other patches—one for reverb and one for
reverb/pitch [changing]. And for forever I’ve
been using the TC Electronic 1210 [Spatial
Expander + Stereo Chorus/Flanger], and I love
it. I’m using that for my phasing and flanging,
and using the Fractal for the chorus.
Guitars
Black Les Paul Axcess signature model, black Les Paul
Custom, goldtop Gibson Les Paul, 1976 Gibson ES-355, red
Gibson Custom Alex Lifeson Les Paul Axcess, sunburst Les
Paul Axcess signature model, ’59 Fender Telecaster reissue,
Martin 12-string acoustic (tuned to D–A–D–A–A–D for “The
Pedlar”), Larrivée acoustic (for slide on “The Pedlar”), Gibson
ES-345, Gibson J-150 acoustic, Gibson Les Paul Junior, 1958
Gibson Les Paul Standard, Gibson ES-175 (in Nashville tuning
for “Wish Them Well”), Taylor acoustic (in Nashville tuning
for “The Wreckers”), 1959 Gibson Les Paul Standard, Three Gibson Custom Alex Lifeson Les Paul Axcess signature
models, ’76 Gibson ES-355, one Gibson Les Paul
Custom, one Gibson ‘58 Les Paul reissue, one Gibson
‘59 Les Paul reissue with a Floyd Rose, one Gibson Les
Paul Custom with a Floyd Rose, one Fender Custom Shop
Telecaster
Effects
Electro-Harmonix Big Muff (for “The Anarchist” solo), MXR
Flanger, MXR analog delay, Boss Flanger, Electro-Harmonix
Memory Man, Boss Compressor Three Fractal Audio Axe-Fx IIs, TC Electronic 1210 Spatial
Expander + Stereo Chorus/Flanger, two Apple 2.6 GHz MacBook Pros running Apple MainStage UAD plug-ins and Native
Instruments Guitar Rig 5, two Universal Audio Apollo QUAD
audio interfaces, Jim Dunlop Cry Baby Rack Module wah
Amps
Marshall Silver Jubilee 2553 head, 50-watt Marshall reissue
1987X plexi head, tall vintage Marshall 4x12, Mesa/Boogie
Mark Five head, Marshall 1960X 4x12 reissue, Matchless
Clubman, Hughes & Kettner straight-front 4x12, Roland
JC-120, Marshall Club and Country combo (used to drive
a 4x12), Bogner Uberschall, 18-watt Marshall combo, Vox
open-back 4x12 cab, Two custom Lerxst Omega 50-/25-watt heads based on
Marshall 2553 and 2550 Silver Jubilee heads (built by Steve
Snyder at Mojo Tone), two Mesa/Boogie Mark Five heads,
two Hughes & Kettner Coreblade heads, three Palmer PDI-
03 speaker simulators
Strings, Picks, and Accessories
Dean Markley electric strings (.010–.046 and .010–.052
sets), Dean Markley acoustic strings (.012–.054 sets), Jim
Dunlop medium picks, George L’s cables, Dean Markley electric strings (.010–.046 and .010–.052 sets),
Jim Dunlop medium picks, George L’s cables, Levy’s Leathers
straps, Embrace guitar stands, three RJM Music IS-8
input selectors, four dual Audio-Technica AEW-R5200 wireless
units, two RJM Music Amp Gizmos, one Mesa/Boogie
High-Gain Amp Switcher, Behringer MultiGate Pro XR4400
Quad Expander/Gate, RJM Music Effect Gizmo, one Furman
AR-PRO AC line-voltage regulator
Okay, let’s talk bigger-picture stuff.
Geddy, how would you describe Alex’s
evolution as a musician up to this point?
Lee: I think he’s underappreciated for the kind
of complexity he brings to his guitar playing.
Not only is he an amazing soloist—and always
has been—but he’s developed a very interesting
rhythmic and harmonic style of chord
creation. He’s constantly searching for ways of
bringing more musicality into the chord itself,
and he’s always experimenting with different
tunings. I think he’s evolved into a very interesting
and deep guitarist. Y’know, we grew up
in a period when it was all about the soloist—he loved Jimmy Page and Ritchie Blackmore
and all those guys—and of course he was very
influenced by that and became a great soloist.
But when you’re playing in a three-piece band,
you have to develop good chops to help fill
in the sound, be able to spread the chord out.
And that’s kind of pushed him to develop a
great sense of arpeggiation and developing the
technical side, where he’s got all these layers of
guitar sounds that he can draw upon to sound
like more than one guitarist while he’s playing.
Alex, same question for you about Geddy.
Lifeson: As a singer, he’s evolved in many
ways. He’s really become a singer. In the
early days—and, again, it was a different
time, a different physicality—he screamed
more, he hit those high notes. That was the
unique quality he had in the way he sang
and how he delivered lyrics. Now I’m more
drawn into the way he sings, particularly
on this record. There’s something that’s very
compelling in his singing—the nuances,
how he translates lyrics into vocal parts. It’s
really a skill, and I get to watch it all the
time. He works really, really hard on it.
As a bass player, he’s always been amazing [laughs]. He blows me away when I sit and watch him play. I wouldn’t know how to quantify his evolution and development, because I think he’s always been very busy, he’s always been all over the place—but at the same time, he knows when to pull it back and, y’know, sit down and let everything circle around him.
Final question: In a recent Rolling Stone
interview, Neil mused a bit about how
much longer he can pound the drums with
the sort of stamina that Rush requires. It
seems ridiculous to think there will be a
day anytime soon when he can’t crush most
drummers on the planet, but what do you
see for yourself whenever that day comes?
Lee: I didn’t see that interview, but I know
what he’s getting at: How much longer can
we go out there and play three-hour shows at
that peak level. And I can see it in him. Last
night, we were at the end of a very long day of
rehearsing—I don’t think we’ve ever worked
so hard prepping for a tour, we’ve really put
in a serious amount of hours—and I could
see he was tired. We were almost three hours
into the set, and we were deciding whether to
do one or two or three songs in the encore,
and there comes a point when you just have
to accept that you’re approaching 60 and that
maybe three hours of blistering rock is for
a younger man. That’s what he’s getting at.
So maybe it’s just inevitable that Rush tours
down the road—if all goes well and there are
Rush tours—aren’t three hours long [laughs].
Lifeson: That’s a very valid, prurient question. We’re thinking about this all the time. Every time we go to rehearsals, I think, “Wow, this has really been hard work this time. Why has it been so difficult?” And I know why it’s been difficult—it’s not the physicality so much as it is the mental work required to put Clockwork Angels together, plus all this other material we’re doing, plus working with a string section—two cellos and six violins—which, by the way, is absolutely awesome. But, y’know, it’s hard for him. We’ve been rehearsing for seven weeks, and I think we’ve had four, maybe five days off in that period—plus, he started rehearsing a month before we did. So he’s been playing constantly for months now. He’s going to be 60 next week, and it is a huge toll. I mean, he has an amazing stamina and he’s a very strong individual, but what he does is very, very difficult and very demanding. Hopefully, we’ll get through this tour with no problems—I’d like to think that we will, and that’s certainly our plan.
But eventually, one day, we’re not going to be able to do it anymore. That’s a reality, and I don’t think we should get too caught up in it. When it happens it happens, and that’s it. We’ve had a great run, we’ve left a great legacy that we’re proud of, and who knows what’ll come after that? I mean, I think my fingers will still work for a little while longer [laughs]. I like to do stuff at home, to work with other people and continue to be musical, but there are other things in life, too—especially when you’ve dedicated so much of your life to touring. There’s no doubt that we absolutely love what we do, and we know that we’re very, very fortunate to have been able to do this. But eventually it does come to an end. I don’t want to be 70 years old jumping around onstage. Maybe if we’re still making great music, sure. But I kind of doubt it by that point. Most 70-year-old rock musicians I see now are not really that enjoyable to watch.
Plus, even though Neil is 60, most
25-year-olds can’t play what he plays.
Lee: Well, yeah … [laughs].
Lifeson: I agree with you—and most don’t. Maybe he was being reflective. Y’know, he has a young daughter, and we all have given up a lot being on the road, away from our families. I have two grandsons who I adore and love being with as much as I can be, and I’m fortunate that they feel the same way—so it kills me to be away from them. And I know it kills him to be away form his daughter and miss those formative years, and it’s tough for her, as well. So these things kind of eat away at you. But, at the same time, you feel a responsibility to your art and your partners, and so you do it.
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“Practice Loud”! How Duane Denison Preps for a New Jesus Lizard Record
After 26 years, the seminal noisy rockers return to the studio to create Rack, a master class of pummeling, machine-like grooves, raving vocals, and knotty, dissonant, and incisive guitar mayhem.
The last time the Jesus Lizard released an album, the world was different. The year was 1998: Most people counted themselves lucky to have a cell phone, Seinfeld finished its final season, Total Request Live was just hitting MTV, and among the year’s No. 1 albums were Dave Matthews Band’s Before These Crowded Streets, Beastie Boys’ Hello Nasty, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, Korn’s Follow the Leader, and the Armageddonsoundtrack. These were the early days of mp3 culture—Napster didn’t come along until 1999—so if you wanted to hear those albums, you’d have to go to the store and buy a copy.
The Jesus Lizard’s sixth album, Blue, served as the band’s final statement from the frontlines of noisy rock for the next 26 years. By the time of their dissolution in 1999, they’d earned a reputation for extreme performances chock full of hard-hitting, machine-like grooves delivered by bassist David Wm. Sims and, at their conclusion, drummer Mac McNeilly, at times aided and at other times punctured by the frontline of guitarist Duane Denison’s incisive, dissonant riffing, and presided over by the cantankerous howl of vocalist David Yow. In the years since, performative, thrilling bands such as Pissed Jeans, METZ, and Idles have built upon the Lizard’s musical foundation.
Denison has kept himself plenty busy over the last couple decades, forming the avant-rock supergroup Tomahawk—with vocalist Mike Patton, bassist Trevor Dunn (both from Mr. Bungle), and drummer John Stanier of Helmet—and alongside various other projects including Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers and Hank Williams III. The Jesus Lizard eventually reunited, but until now have only celebrated their catalog, never releasing new jams.
The Jesus Lizard, from left: bassist David Wm. Sims, singer David Yow, drummer Mac McNeilly, and guitarist Duane Denison.
Photo by Joshua Black Wilkins
Back in 2018, Denison, hanging in a hotel room with Yow, played a riff on his unplugged electric guitar that caught the singer’s ear. That song, called “West Side,” will remain unreleased for now, but Denison explains: “He said, ‘Wow, that’s really good. What is that?’ And I said, ‘It’s just some new thing. Why don’t we do an album?’” From those unassuming beginnings, the Jesus Lizard’s creative juices started flowing.
So, how does a band—especially one who so indelibly captured the ineffable energy of live rock performance—prepare to get a new record together 26 years after their last? Back in their earlier days, the members all lived together in a band house, collectively tending to the creative fire when inspiration struck. All these years later, they reside in different cities, so their process requires sending files back and forth and only meeting up for occasional demo sessions over the course of “three or four years.”
“When the time comes to get more in performance mode, I have a practice space. I go there by myself and crank it up. I turn that amp up and turn the metronome up and play loud.” —Duane Denison
the Jesus Lizard "Alexis Feels Sick"
Distance creates an obstacle to striking while the proverbial iron is hot, but Denison has a method to keep things energized: “Practice loud.” The guitarist professes the importance of practice, in general, and especially with a metronome. “We keep very detailed records of what the beats per minute of these songs are,” he explains. “To me, the way to do it is to run it to a Bluetooth speaker and crank it, and then crank your amp. I play a little at home, but when the time comes to get more in performance mode, I have a practice space. I go there by myself and crank it up. I turn that amp up and turn the metronome up and play loud.”
It’s a proven solution. On Rack—recorded at Patrick Carney’s Audio Eagle studio with producer Paul Allen—the band sound as vigorous as ever, proving they’ve not only remained in step with their younger selves, but they may have surpassed it with faders cranked. “Duane’s approach, both as a guitarist and writer, has an angular and menacing fingerprint that is his own unique style,” explains Allen. “The conviction in his playing that he is known for from his recordings in the ’80s and ’90s is still 100-percent intact and still driving full throttle today.”
“I try to be really, really precise,” he says. “I think we all do when it comes to the basic tracks, especially the rhythm parts. The band has always been this machine-like thing.” Together, they build a tension with Yow’s careening voice. “The vocals tend to be all over the place—in and out of tune, in and out of time,” he points out. “You’ve got this very free thing moving around in the foreground, and then you’ve got this very precise, detailed band playing behind it. That’s why it works.”
Before Rack, the Jesus Lizard hadn’t released a new record since 1998’s Blue.
Denison’s guitar also serves as the foreground foil to Yow’s unhinged raving, as on “Alexis Feels Sick,” where they form a demented harmony, or on the midnight creep of “What If,” where his vibrato-laden melodies bolster the singer’s unsettled, maniacal display. As precise as his riffs might be, his playing doesn’t stay strictly on the grid. On the slow, skulking “Armistice Day,” his percussive chording goes off the rails, giving way to a solo that slices that groove like a chef’s knife through warm butter as he reorganizes rock ’n’ roll histrionics into his own cut-up vocabulary.
“During recording sessions, his first solo takes are usually what we decide to keep,” explains Allen. “Listen to Duane’s guitar solos on Jack White’s ‘Morning, Noon, and Night,’ Tomahawk’s ‘Fatback,’ and ‘Grind’ off Rack. There’s a common ‘contained chaos’ thread among them that sounds like a harmonic Rubik’s cube that could only be solved by Duane.”
“Duane’s approach, both as a guitarist and writer, has an angular and menacing fingerprint that is his own unique style.” —Rack producer Paul Allen
To encapsulate just the right amount of intensity, “I don’t over practice everything,” the guitarist says. Instead, once he’s created a part, “I set it aside and don’t wear it out.” On Rack, it’s obvious not a single kilowatt of musical energy was lost in the rehearsal process.
Denison issues his noisy masterclass with assertive, overdriven tones supporting his dissonant voicings like barbed wire on top of an electric fence. The occasional application of slapback delay adds a threatening aura to his exacting riffage. His tones were just as carefully crafted as the parts he plays, and he relied mostly on his signature Electrical Guitar Company Chessie for the sessions, though a Fender Uptown Strat also appears, as well as a Taylor T5Z, which he chose for its “cleaner, hyper-articulated sound” on “Swan the Dog.” Though he’s been spotted at recent Jesus Lizard shows with a brand-new Powers Electric—he points out he played a demo model and says, “I just couldn’t let go of it,” so he ordered his own—that wasn’t until tracking was complete.
Duane Denison's Gear
Denison wields his Powers Electric at the Blue Room in Nashville last June.
Photo by Doug Coombe
Guitars
- Electrical Guitar Company Chessie
- Fender Uptown Strat
- Taylor T5Z
- Gibson ES-135
- Powers Electric
Amps
- Hiwatt Little J
- Hiwatt 2x12 cab with Fane F75 speakers
- Fender Super-Sonic combo
- Early ’60s Fender Bassman
- Marshall 1987X Plexi Reissue
- Victory Super Sheriff head
- Blackstar HT Stage 60—2 combos in stereo with Celestion Neo Creamback speakers and Mullard tubes
Effects
- Line 6 Helix
- Mantic Flex Pro
- TC Electronic G-Force
- Menatone Red Snapper
Strings and Picks
- Stringjoy Orbiters .0105 and .011 sets
- Dunlop celluloid white medium
- Sun Studios yellow picks
He ran through various amps—Marshalls, a Fender Bassman, two Fender Super-Sonic combos, and a Hiwatt Little J—at Audio Eagle. Live, if he’s not on backline gear, you’ll catch him mostly using 60-watt Blackstar HT Stage 60s loaded with Celestion Neo Creambacks. And while some boxes were stomped, he got most of his effects from a Line 6 Helix. “All of those sounds [in the Helix] are modeled on analog sounds, and you can tweak them endlessly,” he explains. “It’s just so practical and easy.”
The tools have only changed slightly since the band’s earlier days, when he favored Travis Beans and Hiwatts. Though he’s started to prefer higher gain sounds, Allen points out that “his guitar sound has always had teeth with a slightly bright sheen, and still does.”
“Honestly, I don’t think my tone has changed much over the past 30-something years,” Denison says. “I tend to favor a brighter, sharper sound with articulation. Someone sent me a video I had never seen of myself playing in the ’80s. I had a band called Cargo Cult in Austin, Texas. What struck me about it is it didn’t sound terribly different than what I sound like right now as far as the guitar sound and the approach. I don’t know what that tells you—I’m consistent?”
YouTube It
The Jesus Lizard take off at Nashville’s Blue Room this past June with “Hide & Seek” from Rack.
The two pedals mark the debut of the company’s new Street Series, aimed at bringing boutique tone to the gigging musician at affordable prices.
The Phat Machine
The Phat Machine is designed to deliver the tone and responsiveness of a vintage germanium fuzz with improved temperature stability with no weird powering issues. Loaded with both a germanium and a silicon transistor, the Phat Machine offers the warmth and cleanup of a germanium fuzz but with the bite of a silicon pedal. It utilizes classic Volume and Fuzz control knobs, as well as a four-position Thickness control to dial-in any guitar and amp combo. Also included is a Bias trim pot and a Kill switch that allows battery lovers to shut off the battery without pulling the input cord.
Silk Worm Deluxe Overdrive
The Silk Worm Deluxe -- along with its standard Volume/Gain/Tone controls -- has a Bottom trim pot to dial in "just the right amount of thud with no mud at all: it’s felt more than heard." It also offers a Studio/Stage diode switch that allows you to select three levels of compression.
Both pedals offer the following features:
- 9-volt operation via standard DC external supply or internal battery compartment
- True bypass switching with LED indicator
- Pedalboard-friendly top mount jacks
- Rugged, tour-ready construction and super durable powder coated finish
- Made in the USA
Static Effectors’ Street Series pedals carry a street price of $149 each. They are available at select retailers and can also be purchased directly from the Static Effectors online store at www.staticeffectors.com.
So, you want to chase the riches and glories of being a mid-level guitar YouTuber. Rhett and Zach have some reality checks.
This outing of Dipped In Tone kicks off with an exciting update from Zach Broyles’ camp: He’s opening a brick-and-mortar guitar shop in Nashville, called High Voltage Guitars. Opening on October 8, the store will carry gear from Two-Rock, Divided By 13, Dr. Z, Castedosa, Fano, Novo, and of course Mythos Pedals. Zach hints that there might be some handwired JHS pedals from Josh Scott himself, too, and Rhett reveals that he plans to consign some of his guitars at the shop.
The business side of Zach’s new venture brings them to a key piece of today’s episode: Rhett and Zach aren’t running charities. They do what they do to make money; guitars, gear, podcasting, and content creation are their literal jobs. And they’re not as glamorous and breezy as most armchair commentators might guess.
Want to do what Rhett and Zach do? Welcome to the club. The guitar-influencer field is what one might call “oversaturated” at the moment, and it’s difficult to break out—but not impossible. As our hosts explain, it requires putting in 60-hour work weeks, a diverse skillset, a knack for catching people’s attention, and a certain level of genuineness. Rhett knows this path well, and he has hard-earned advice for staying true to oneself while building a following in the gear world.
Tune in to learn why Rhett thinks Fretboard Summit, a three-day guitar festival organized by Fretboard Journal, blows NAMM out of the water and builds legitimate connections between guitarists, and catch the duo dipping a Dick Dale-inspired, all-Fender rig.
Get 10% off your order at stewmac.com/dippedintone
Computerized processes have given repair techs the power to deliver you a better-playing guitar. But how do they work?
When we need to get our guitars fixed by a professional, a few nagging questions run through our heads: Will the repair specialist be thorough? Will their procedures ensure an optimal sounding and easy-to-play instrument, or will they merely perform cursory work to make the guitar somewhat playable without resolving underlying issues? Have they followed the tested advancements in understanding, tools, and techniques, or are they stuck in the ideas of the ’70s?
Presently, many certified guitar-repair specialists possess the expertise required to deliver an instrument that both sounds and plays wonderfully. The standards set by manufacturers and distributors have significantly risen, safeguarded by rigorous quality protocols to guarantee the best possible acoustic experience for customers. Additionally, lutherie training has raised the bar for critical processes, and one of the most tricky is fretwork.
Traditional fretwork once involved manual labor, with technicians utilizing sandbags or similar supports to steady the neck as they straightened it with a truss rod during the filing process. A notable advancement in this field came in the mid 1970s when Don Teeter, an author and repair expert, imposed a new method: fixing the guitar body to the bench and using blocks to maintain the neck in a playing position. This refinement was one of many in the continued quest to produce superior instruments by standardized methods.
An example of the Plek’s readings from an acoustic guitar.
Photo courtesy of Galloup Guitars
In the late 1970s, another pivotal innovation was introduced by Dan Erlewine. He created an advanced fret jig with a specialized body-holding system and neck supports, adding another layer of precision to the repair process. During my collaboration with Dan in 1985, we developed a rotating neck jig that counterbalanced the forces of gravity, keeping the instrument in its playing orientation while adjusting the neck supports. This step represented a significant leap in establishing control and standardization of fretwork procedures in our industry. By 1986, our approach had evolved into a freestanding workstation coupled with a sophisticated hold-down mechanism and enhanced neck supports, culminating in increased accuracy, efficiency, and consistency. Over the decades, the Erlewine/Galloup rotating neck jig has become a benchmark in numerous shops, enhancing fretwork performance.
"This step represented a significant leap in establishing control and standardization of fretwork procedures in our industry."
By the 1990s, automated and computerized technologies permeated the guitar manufacturing and repair sectors. Initially applied by import companies in the mass production of guitars, the technology, although expediting processes, did not immediately achieve high execution standards. However, the tech dramatically improved over time, with computer-driven systems eventually transforming the industry. Contemporary automated production utilizing such advancements meets exceedingly high standards of precision. Some bespoke guitar manufacturers, such as Steve Andersen, were pioneers in adopting these methods, but it was companies like Taylor that established them in the modern era.
Inevitably, the progression of technology extended beyond the mere production of parts. Around 1995, German engineer Gerd Anke envisioned the integration of computer-assisted technology into enhancing instrument playability, giving rise to Plek technology, which uses computers to precisely measure and analyze the various components of a guitar, like neck relief, fret height, nut and bridge specs, and more. Nashville guitar-repair tech Joe Glaser was among the first to recognize the machine’s value, followed by San Francisco luthier Gary Brawer. When Heritage Guitar Inc. invested in a Plek machine, the guitar industry could no longer disregard the significance of this innovation.
“The machine’s scanning data confirmed that there was one nature of an ideal fret plane, done by hand or machine, and unsurprisingly, it conformed exactly to what physics predicts, not personal mojo.”
In the spring of 2022, Galloup Guitars obtained its first Plek machine. Promptly, our technician Adam Winarski paved the way for the Plek’s integration in our shop. Now, it’s a rarity for an instrument to leave our shop without having undergone Plek analysis and machining. Impressed by the results of our integration, we created “Intro to Plek” as a course for all students enrolled at the Galloup School of Lutherie, offering our students a practical introduction to this technology. We furthered this educational initiative with a comprehensive one-week intensive “Plek Certification Training Course” for both students and the public. This advanced Plek course serves those seeking to boost their knowledge base and employability in this high-precision field.
Plek is rapidly becoming an industry standard for major manufacturers and smaller shops alike. However, this does not mean that those without access to this technology cannot execute proficient fretwork. Personally, I continue to use my Erlewine/Galloup neck jig—not only out of nostalgia, but also because it remains an excellent method for delivering accurate and reliable guitars. Still, it’s undeniable that the process of fretting, fret dressing, and analytics of fretted instruments has undergone significant transformation, resulting in better sounding—and playing—guitars. And ultimately, that’s what it’s all about.