These lions of rock navigate the new Stone Temple Pilots album in the studio and onstage with carefully chosen guitars and basses, honed studio craft, and a new songwriting partner in vocalist Jeff Gutt.
Laughter is perhaps the most auspicious way to start an interview with Dean and Robert DeLeo of Stone Temple Pilots. The deaths of their two former lead singers, Scott Weiland and Chester Bennington, who passed in 2015 and 2017, respectively, has been casting a bit of a dark cloud over their every move. But Dean quickly sets an amiable tone for our conversation with a quip he nicked from Cameron Crowe’s liner notes in Led Zeppelin’s 1990 Boxed Set. Upon introducing myself and offering my credentials, he responds with, “I don’t come to you with my problems.” Laughter ensues and the ice is broken.
The line comes from an interaction Crowe witnessed as a young man when he was a journalist on tour with Led Zeppelin. He saw Peter Grant walk up to Bob Dylan and say, “Hi, I’m Peter Grant. I manage Led Zeppelin.” And Dylan responded, “I don’t come to you with my problems.” Dean is clearly bemused by the set up: “How great is that? I use that line for everything and I crack up every time.”
Starting an interview about Stone Temple Pilots’ self-titled new album in this way is pleasantly disarming and illuminates the immense modesty the DeLeo brothers appear to share. It’s a welcome character trait from two bona fide rock stars that literally reshaped the musical landscape in the early ’90s as part of the grunge movement with albums like Core and Purple.
In the ensuing years, STP evolved into one of the most musically diverse alternative-rock bands, growing sonically on albums like Tiny Music… Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop and No. 4 by interweaving elements of classic rock, glam, psychedelia, and Motown. The only obstacle that seemed to prevent them from rising to even greater heights was Weiland’s well-documented battle with drug addiction and his resulting departures from the band.
Despite those troubles, Dean and Robert, along with STP drummer Eric Kretz, never appeared to wallow in self-pity, and they certainly don’t seem to dwell on the past—especially when it comes to music. Instead, they’ve opted to escape the tumult by entrenching themselves even more deeply into their music via offshoot projects like Talk Show and Army of Anyone, or beginning the monumental task of rebranding STP with a new front man—first with late Linkin Park vocalist Chester Bennington and now with Jeff Gutt. They’ve even explored side gigs along the way, performing with Joe Walsh, Hollywood Vampires, Kings of Chaos, Delta Deep, and others. No matter how challenging the circumstances, the DeLeo brothers always seem to stay above the fray by seeking out a good tune … and perhaps a good laugh.
Which isn’t to say they are indifferent to the suicides (accidental or otherwise) of their two former front men. There’s obviously a tremendous amount of reverence for the band’s legacy and the people they’ve collaborated with. They just aren’t overly nostalgic about it. In theory, it would’ve been economically viable for them to hire a Scott Weiland clone, forego making a new album, and go out on tour exploiting STP’s past. They sure have enough hit songs to ride on. “Plush,” “Interstate Love Song,” “Vasoline,” and four others have reached the apex of Billboard’s Mainstream Rock chart, and 17 more have wedged in its Top 20. But the DeLeos aren’t inclined to rest on their laurels. They are eminently motivated by what they both call the “power of song,” and it is the pursuit of songcraft, and making new music, that ignites their drive. And now, after a year-long online search for a new singer, from which they landed Gutt (a former contestant on The X Factor), it seems STP has firmly embraced the future and delivered what’s arguably their best album in years.
Stone Temple Pilots is an album of immense emotional depth and musical breadth. There are the familiar artistic components that have come to define STP’s sonic blueprint, like Dean’s eclectic guitar tones and stylistic choices, and Robert’s gritty, Motown-inspired bass lines, but the wistfulness of “The Art of Letting Go,” “Thought She’d Be Mine,” and “Finest Hour” demonstrate a peak level of songwriting. The hooks seem smarter than ever, the performances more sensitive and nuanced, and the production value just a smidge tighter than their previous albums.
STP produced their latest album and credits the band’s early producer, Brendan O’Brien, with teaching them the secrets of the studio. “Brendan worked fast and efficient and he got the best out of us, quickly. That’s how we learned to make records,” says Dean.
Gutt is a singer of inspired rhythmic phrasing and melodic sensibility, and he has clearly taken the baton and ran with it. He doesn’t seem intimidated by the role he’s stepping into, and it’s clear that the DeLeos didn’t simply want a singer who could only cover the back catalog. The real criterion for their new singer, they explain, was the ability to write at a very proficient level. “He’s really good,” says Dean. “We’ve been very fortunate to be able to write at a certain level of musicianship in this band. Writing music with Scott was just incredible—so fulfilling, what he brought to a song—and it’s the same with Jeff.”
PG caught up with Dean and Robert as they were preparing for Gutt’s inaugural U.S. tour with STP. This summer they embark on the Revolution 3 Tour with fellow ’90s luminaries, Bush and the Cult. The DeLeos are humble, gracious, humorous, and willing to divulge intimate details about the instruments, live rigs, recording techniques, and songwriting and arranging ethos that keep STP humming.
What was the writing process like for Stone Temple Pilots? Did you write with any of the potential singers?
Robert DeLeo: There were a few songs that were around back when Chester left the band, so we put it all down because we knew we had a task ahead of us—getting a new singer. But a lot of these songs really came from the spark of having Jeff’s presence there and getting together in the studio and speaking the conversation of songwriting. I think one of the most important things for finding a new singer was someone who could move forward and write, and Jeff really applied his art to what we were doing.
Did you share files or were you literally writing together, in the studio?
Dean DeLeo: A lot of the stuff was pre-written. Robert would come in with a song completed or I would come in with a song completed. But the song that was written from the ground up, in the moment, and sounds like it would be the last song on the record to be written that way, was “The Art of Letting Go.” We were at Eric’s recording vocals, and I picked up a guitar and that song literally came out in minutes. Jeff heard what I was playing and came in the room and immediately started singing what you hear. I even think he used the “art of letting go” lyric right away—it was immediate. The song was based around that lyric. That is the song that really solidified Jeff’s talent.
Dean DeLeo bends a note the hard way on one of his Gibson Les Paul Standards during a 2015 show at San Francisco’s the Fillmore. DeLeo’s tones come from a fleet of five Pauls, two Paul Reed Smiths, and a group of single-coils that includes T- and S-style Nelson models and a vintage Danelectro. Photo by Ken Settle
It’s amazing how well you two brothers complement each other, weaving in and out of each other’s parts in songs like “Guilty” and “Just a Little Lie.”
Robert: Dean and I complementing one other is really a mutual respect for each other’s talents and playing. I think it’s a matter of when to say something and when not to say something. That comes from years and years of playing together and just trying to put our best foot forward, artistically, with each other.
You’re both able to be interesting, musically and melodically, without ever getting in the way of the vocal melody, like in “Thought She’d Be Mine.”
Dean: Thank you. That is one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever had. I appreciate that because we can easily get in our own way. I think you really need to let the song dictate what it wants or what it needs. It’ll tell you. You just have to listen.
You strike a fine balance between riff-oriented ideas and letting the songs breathe— utilizing space, chord inversions, and chord changes—within the context of the same song, like “Six Eight” or “Never Enough,” for example.
Dean: It’s a concerted effort. What is the song telling you it needs? Once I become willful, in anything I do, once I put my mitts in it, I can fuck it up really quickly. You really have to listen to what the song wants to do. And there are many times where it’s like, “I’m hearing this part here; let me try this.” And I lay it down and it’s played well, there’s a nice tone, but then I’m like, “It’s better without it.” That’s where you really need to put your ego aside, put your ability aside, and ask, “What is the song telling you it needs?”
its own story.” —Dean DeLeo
Dean, do you approach your guitar solos the same way?
Dean: Yeah. Absolutely. And I also want to go very wide. Not only do I not want to repeat what I did on previous records, but I also don’t want to repeat myself on this record. So, the solos are very different from song to song. And not just in tonality, but an entirely different approach—from “Just a Little Lie” to “The Art of Letting Go” to “Reds & Blues.” One of the most beautiful things about guitar is, I have so many different instruments to pick from—from a single-coil Tele or Danelectro or a Strat to a Les Paul with a PAF. Each one tells its own story.
Do you work out your solos in advance or are they improvised?
Dean: If you go back to [2001’s] Shangri-La Dee Da, I approached those solos very differently. I didn’t even pick up a guitar. I didn’t want to get into some kind of pentatonic mode and play a guitar solo per se, so I sat there with the song and I had a little recorder and sang my solos. Then I transposed them to guitar. That’s why the solos on that record are a little more melodic. This record was different. I didn’t have anything really predetermined. I waited to see where Jeff was going to leave off. I’m sort of playing off his vocals.
When tracking, do you go for a basic rhythm sound for the whole record or do you use different sounds from song to song?
Dean: I kind of know, once the song is at its inception, where I want it to go sonically. It’s just about chasing that tone. For me, it’s about getting what’s going on in my bean [head] and making that come out of the speakers. That’s the name of the game. And sometimes it works and comes along quickly—and it’s nice when that happens. But sometimes you stumble upon a different tone, and you’re like, “I kind of like that better.” It’s nice to have the ability to not chase your tail.
Guitars
Live
Five ’88 Gibson Les Paul Standards
Two ’60s Fender Telecasters
Two Nelson Guitarwerks T-Classics
Two PRS McCarty Semi-Hollows (with a piezo pickup for acoustic sounds)
’56 Danelectro U2 with lipstick pickups
Two-pickup ’60s Danelectro double-cutaway
Fender ’60s Telecaster with Bigsby
Nelson S-style guitar
’60s Kay
’60s Kustom
’60s Gretsch Country Gentleman
’50 Gibson J-50
’45 Martin 0-18
Amps (live)
Demeter TGP-3 Guitar Pre-Amp
VHT 2100 Classic power amp with EL-34 tubes
Vox AC30 with Celestion Alnico Blues
Two Marshall 4x12 slant cabinets with Celestion Vintage 30s
Effects (live)
Rocktron Intelliverb
MXR MC406 CAE Buffer
Dunlop GCB95F Cry Baby Classic Wah
Boss CE-1 Chorus Ensemble
SIB Varidrive Tube Overdrive Distortion
RJM Music Mastermind GT/10 MIDI Controller
Strings and Picks
Dunlop DESBN1046 Super Bright strings (.010–.046)
Dunlop Chrome Guitar Slide 318
Dunlop Delrin 500 (heavy pick)
Do either of you have any formal education as a musician?
Robert: None at all. Just being a good listener is an education. Being the youngest of a big family back in the early ’70s, I was very curious about records and I remember some of the first records that I picked up and had the pleasure of listening to were by the Beatles and the Beach Boys. I heard that music back then and it was like the bell ringing. I was so amazed. And I had a very good understanding, at 5 or 6 years old, of rhythm and bass playing and hooks and lines and flavors and arrangements. It really caught, I would say, my ear, but it really caught my soul.
Robert, your bass lines can often be very active, but they only ever seem to enhance the song or melody, like in “Reds & Blues.”
Robert: That goes back to most of the stuff that [Motown bassist] James Jamerson was doing on pop songs. I’m just amazed by what he got away with. If you listen to “It’s a Shame” by the Spinners, I mean, that just blows me away. It’s one of my favorite bass lines. Or “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing” [by Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell]. Wow! He’s the guy that set the tone for everyone else. He’s the highest up there for me.
I definitely hear his influence in your playing—especially in “Finest Hour.”
Robert: It’s the breath in between the notes, not actually what you’re playing, to me. It’s the breathing of the line that gives it its breadth and that’s what always amazed me—the spaces in between and what people did with that.
Do you ever play with a pick or is it strictly fingerstyle?
Robert: I’ve been doing some outside projects, and one of them is with Matt Sorum from Guns N’ Roses, who has a project called Kings of Chaos. We did some stuff with Billy Idol and that material is all strictly pick. I owe Steve Stevens for saying, “Hey man, can you play that with a pick?” I was like, “I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try.” I really wrapped my head around it. It has a certain kind of percussive, aggressive attack to it that really fits those songs. I had a blast doing it.
Are there any pick players that ever stood out to you when you were growing up?
Robert: There are two, and they’re completely different from each other. One is Chris Squire. I am constantly amazed by what he did with not only his playing, but also his tone. And then, Graham Maby’s playing really stood out to me on the first two Joe Jackson records [Look Sharp! and I’m the Man]. “Sunday Papers” is some good, clever bass playing.
I read somewhere that your goal, as a bassist, has been to combine the feel of James Jamerson with the sound of John Entwistle. I think you achieved that on this album—especially on songs like “Roll Me Under.” What’s your secret?
Robert: With all the records we’ve ever made, I’ve pretty much used the same thing. In the beginning I had a ’61 Fender Bassman head—it was actually Dean’s—with a special-order Bassman cab that had the original JBL 15" in it. Unfortunately, it crapped out after we did the High Rise EP [in 2013] with Chester. So, I was panicking on what to do. I was so used to using that. So, I pulled out a ’67 Ampeg B-15N I own and realized I had more low-end and a different midrange from the Bassman. I liked what it was doing, so I put a vintage Neumann U67 on it and used that.
Although Rob DeLeo is playing a Schecter P-style here, his current stage basses are made by STP guitar tech Bruce Nelson and include a combo of Lollar P and J pickups with individual volume controls and one master tone. Bodies are 1-piece alder with a nitrocellulose lacquer finish. Photo by Ken Settle
Do you ever record multiple tracks for bass or is it just the one track?
Robert: There are three bass tracks on this record: the B-15N, then, on another track, I used the Little Labs Redeye direct box, and I have an Ampeg VT-22, which is essentially a V-4 in combo form. It’s 100 watts. I take the speaker out of that and power the head into a 1970 Marshall 8x10. That’s the growl that you hear. The midrange from the switches on the VT-22 gives you this notched kind of thing. Back in the day, during Tiny Music…, No. 4, and Shangri-La Dee Da, I was using the Bassman with the 8x10, and I was putting a wah in there and cocking it, which you can really hear in the bass tone of “Down” [from No. 4]. That’s what I’m doing now, but with the VT-22 through the 8x10.
What basses did you use on this album?
Robert: I got a chance to use a lot of my basses. I have a very nice vintage collection that I got from a gentleman who’d been storing basses away for 30 years, and some of them hadn’t been opened in 50 years [laughs]. Some are literally mint from the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s. They don’t leave my house.
Are you cautious about dinging vintage mint condition basses?
Robert: I dare not sweat on them [laughs]. I’m going to invent something new, like the “arm sock” for when you’re playing your vintage basses and you don’t want to scratch them or sweat on them. What was that thing you put on, like a robe, and you watch TV?
—Robert DeLeo
Snuggies?
Robert: Snuggies! Yeah! I’m going to come up with a bass Snuggie. You put that on your arm in case you don’t want to sweat on your vintage instrument [laughs].
What basses are you playing live?
Robert: Dean’s tech and our good friend, Bruce Nelson, is a very, very proficient luthier. We just recently played with Joe Perry and Joe’s been playing some of Bruce’s guitars. I had him build me a couple of basses and they’re just amazing. They feel so comfortable, and he’s building them from scratch. So, I’m using Nelson basses now.
How did you meet Bruce?
Dean: I went to Bruce’s house only because he was setting up a friend’s guitars. Bruce answered the door and within 10 seconds I was like, “Oh my god, I love this guy.” He was so kind and knowledgeable. I was just about to go on tour with Joe Walsh and I said to him, “Hey man, do you ever go on the road? Robert and I are going out with Joe Walsh for a few weeks. Would you want to do it?” And he was like, “What are the dates?” He was working for Tom Anderson at the time, building guitars. So, I gave him the dates and he goes, “Ironically, your dates line up with my vacation.” We’ve been pals ever since. He’s first and foremost a beautiful human being. He’s built me four guitars: three Teles and a Strat. This one Tele has Firebird pickups in it. It’s an incredible guitar.
Basses (live)
Bruce Nelson-built Nelson Guitarwerks hybrid P/J-style basses (These include Lollar P and J pickups with individual volume controls and one master tone. Bodies are 1-piece alder with a nitrocellulose lacquer finish. They have a custom 12-gauge, steel-string, through-body bridge with 3/8" brass saddles and a 1/2" thick recessed steel string block. Nelson’s neck plates are 12-gauge steel with six neck screws, and the necks are quarter-sawn torrified maple with Indian rosewood fretboards, block inlays, and binding. The frets are stainless steel, the nuts are brass, and they employ Hipshot Bass Xtenders.)
(Studio for Stone Temple Pilots)
1965 Fender P Bass with padauk fretboard on “Middle of Nowhere,” “Just a Little Lie,” “Six Eight,” “Roll Me Under,” “Finest Hour,” “Good Shoes,” “Guilty” (with Electro-Harmonix Bass Micro Synth), and “Meadow” (with Maestro BB-1 Bass Brassmaster fuzz)
1976 Rickenbacker 4001 on “Thought She’d Be Mine”
1971 Rickenbacker 4001 fireglo with flatwounds on “Never Enough”
1972 Fender J bass on “The Art of Letting Go”
1974 Fender Telecaster Bass on “Reds & Blues”
Amps
QSC PLX1602 2-channel, 1600-watt power amp (live)
Two Ampeg SVT-810E 800-watt extension cabs (live)
1967 Ampeg B-15N (studio)
Ampeg VT-22 (studio)
Effects
Line 6 Bass POD XT Pro amp modeler
Furman PL-8 Power Conditioner
Shure ULXD4D Dual Channel Digital Wireless Receiver
Strings and Picks
D’Addario EXL160 Nickel Wound Medium (.050–.105)
How important is your tech to your performance each night?
Dean: We’re so in tune with one another. And he knows my guitars. He knows that on the black Les Paul he has to flatten the G string just a hair, and on one particular Tele I need to have the B string a little sharp because it’s tuned to open D minor. He knows the idiosyncrasies of each guitar.
What amps are you using live?
Dean: I’m using the same stuff I have since day one. The live rig really allows me to cover a lot of real estate. It’s so versatile. I’m able to get so many different tones just by utilizing the volume and tone off the guitar. I can cover all the albums and that’s a lot of material. It’s a VHT amp, run in stereo. I run that at 50 watts, 16 ohms. That goes through two 4x12 slant cabs with 30-watt speakers. That also goes through the Demeter tri-modal preamp, which gives me three channels. I can have a cool kind of semi-clean thing, depending on where the volume is on the guitar, and I can have a big rhythm tone, and I can have the third channel be a big blast-off, lead tone. That’s running stereo, and then I have a Vox AC30 in the middle and it’s set very clean—very chimey. My front-of-house guy runs the Marshalls full hard left and hard right and the AC30 is up the middle. When I’m playing chords I want to hear every string.
Hats off to Ken Andrews for mixing the record. He did an amazing job. Did you bounce mixes back and forth for feedback?
Dean: We felt it would be unfair to be in there, so we let Ken do his thing. We would go in at the end of the day and listen and give him a little direction about what we wanted, but it was mostly, “Do your thing, man.” We would only tweak little things like, “Let’s goose the top of the last chorus,” but it was 98 percent done when Ken had us out there [to listen].
You recorded this album at your home studios. What did your engineer, Ryan Williams, bring to the table?
Robert: Ryan started working with us on our third record, Tiny Music… He was Brendan’s [Brendan O’Brien, producer] assistant going back to ’96. We reconnected with Ryan for this record. It’s like having someone who knows exactly what we want. He’s that bridge between Brendan and us. He really has that thing. I couldn’t imagine working without him. He’s that important.
Speaking of Brendan O’Brien, what affect did working so extensively with him early in your career have on you?
Dean: Let me tell you man, we learned a lot making our first five records with Brendan. He is notorious for working fast. I would want to do five more takes and he’d be like, “We’re done, man. We’re done with that one, we’re moving on. Let’s go. Next part.” That was really instilled in us through five records. Brendan worked fast and efficient and he got the best out of us, quickly. That’s how we learned to make records.
Stone Temple Pilots, with new singer Jeff Gutt, perform a stripped-down version of their classic “Plush” on Los Angeles radio station KROQ. But there’s nothing low key about the shimmering, crunchy tones Dean DeLeo gets from his Les Paul Standard, or the rhythm section’s punch on the choruses and finale. Hang in for Robert DeLeo’s “shave and a haircut, two bits.”
Another day, another pedal! Enter Stompboxtober Day 7 for your chance to win today’s pedal from Effects Bakery!
Effects Bakery MECHA-PAN BAKERY Series MECHA-BAGEL OVERDRIVE
Konnichiwa, guitar lovers! 🎸✨
Are you ready to add some sweetness to your pedalboard? Let’s dive into the adorable world of the Effects Bakery Mecha-Pan Overdrive, part of the super kawaii Mecha-Pan Bakery Series!
🍩 Sweet Treats for Your Ears! 🍩
The Mecha-Pan Overdrive is like a delicious bagel for your guitar tone, but it’s been upgraded to a new level of cuteness and functionality!
Effects Bakery has taken their popular Bagel OverDrive and given it a magical makeover. Imagine your favorite overdrive sound but with more elegance and warmth – it’s like hugging a fluffy cat while playing your guitar!
A twist on the hard-to-find Ibanez MT10 that captures the low-gain responsiveness of the original and adds a dollop of more aggressive sounds too.
Excellent alternative to pricey, hard-to-find, vintage Mostortions. Flexible EQ. Great headroom. Silky low-gain sounds.
None.
$199
Wampler Mofetta
wamplerpedals.com
Wampler’s new Mofetta is a riff on Ibanez’s MT10 Mostortion, a long-ago discontinued pedal that’s now an in-demand cult classic. If you look at online listings for the MT10, you’ll see that asking prices have climbed up to $1k in extreme cases.
It would have been easy for Wampler to simply make a Mostortion clone and call it a day, but they added some unique twists to the Mofetta pedal. While the original Mostortion had a MOSFET-based op amp, it actually used clipping diodes to create its overdrive. The Mofetta is a fairly accurate replica and includes that circuitry, but also has a toggle switch for texture, which lets you choose between the original-style diode-based clipping in the down position and multi-cascaded MOSFET gain stages in the up position.
Luscious Low Gain and Meaty Mid-Gain
The Mofetta’s control panel is very straightforward and conventional with knobs for bass, mids, treble, level, and gain. The original Mostortion was revered for its low-gain tone and is now popular among Nashville session guitarists. Wampler’s tribute captures that edge-of-breakup vibe perfectly. I enjoyed using the pedal with the gain on the lower side, around 9 o’clock, where I heard and felt slight compression that gave single notes a smooth and silky feel. I particularly enjoyed the tone-thickening the Mofetta lent to my Ernie Ball Music Man Axis Sport’s split-coil sound as I played pop melodies and rootsy, triadic rhythm guitar figures. The Mofetta has expansive headroom, and as a result there’s a lot of space in which you can find really bold, cutting tones without muddying the waters too much. Even turning the gain all the way off yields a pleasing volume bump that would work well in a clean boost setting.
There’s a lot of space in which you can find really bold, cutting tones without muddying the waters too much.
Switching the texture switch up engages the MOSFET section, introducing cascading gain stages that elevate the heat and add flavor the original Mostortion didn’t really offer. Classic rock and early metal are readily available via the MOSFET setting. If you need to stretch out to modern metal sounds, the Mofetta probably isn’t the pedal for you. Again, the original Mostortion was, first and foremost, a low-to-mid-gain affair, so unless you’re using it as a boost with a high-gain amp, the Mofetta is not really a vehicle for extreme sounds.
One of the Mofetta’s real treats is its responsiveness. Even at higher gain settings the Mofetta is very touch sensitive. You can tap into a wide range of dynamic shading just by varying the strength of your pick attack. I enjoyed playing fast, ascending scalar passages, picking with a medium attack then really slamming it hard when I hit a high climactic note, to get the guitar to really scream.
The Verdict
Wampler is a reliably great builder who creates pedals with a purpose. I own two of his pedals, the Dual Fusion and the Pinnacle, and both are really exceptional units. The Mofetta captures the essence of the Mostortion and makes it available at an accessible price. But even if you’ve never heard or played an original Mostortion, you’ll appreciate the truly versatile EQ, touch sensitivity, and the bonus texture switch, which expands the Mofetta’s range into more aggressive spaces. The wealth of dirt boxes on the market today can make a player jaded. But Wampler pushed into a relatively unique, satisfying, and interesting place with the Mofetta.
Although inspired by the classic Fuzz Face, this stomp brings more to the hair-growth game with wide-ranging bias and low-cut controls.
One-ups the Fuzz Face in tonal versatility and pure, sustained filth, with the ability to preserve most of the natural sonic thumbprint of your guitar or take your tone to lower, delightfully nasty places.
Pushing the bias hard can create compromising note decay. Difficult to control at extreme settings.
$144
Catalinbread StarCrash
catalinbread.com
Filthy, saturated fuzz is a glorious thing, whether it’s the writ-large solos of Big Brother and the Holding Company’s live “Ball and Chain,” the soaring feedback and pure crush of Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady,” or the sandblasted rhythm textures of Queens of the Stone Age’s “Paper Machete.” It’s also a Wayback Machine. Step on a fuzz pedal and your tone is transported to the ’60s or early ’70s, which, when it comes to classic guitar sounds, is not a bad place to be.
Catalinbread’s StarCrash is from their new ’70s collection, so the company is laying its Six Million Dollar Man trading cards on the table—upping the ante on traditional fuzz with more controls and, according to the company’s website, a little more volume than the average fuzz pedal, while still staying in the traditional Fuzz Face lane.
The Howler’s Viscera
Arbiter Electronics made the first Fuzz Face in 1966. The StarCrash is inspired by that 2-transistor pedal, but benefits from evolution, as did almost all fuzz pedals in the ’70s, when the standard shifted from germanium to silicon circuitry to improve the consistency of the effect’s performance. The downside is that germanium is gnarlier to some ears, and silicon transistors don’t respond as well to adjustments made via a guitar’s volume control.
While Fuzz Faces have only two knobs, volume and fuzz, the silicon StarCrash has three: volume, bias, and low-cut. Catalinbread’s website explains: “We got rid of that goofy fuzz knob. We know that 95 percent of all players run it dimed, and the remaining 5 percent use their guitar’s volume knob to rein it in.”
I suspect there are plenty of players who, like me, do adjust the fuzz control on their pedals, but the most important thing is that the core fuzz sound here is excellent—bristly and snarling, with a far girthier tone than my reissue Fuzz Face. It’s also, with the bias and low-cut controls, far more flexible. The low-cut control allows you to range from a traditional, comparatively thinner Fuzz Face sound (past noon and further) to the StarCrash’s authentic, beefier voice (noon and lower). Essentially, it cuts bass frequencies from 40 Hz to 500 Hz, resulting in an aural menu that runs from lush and lowdown to buzzy and slicing. And the bias control is a direct route to the spitty, fragmented, so-called Velcro-sound that’s become a staple of the stoner-rock/Jack White school of tone. The company calls this dial a “dying battery simulator,” and it starves the second transistor to achieve that effect.
Sweet Song of the Tribbles
Playing with the StarCrash is a lot of fun. I ran it through a pair of Carr amps in stereo, adding some delay and reverb to mood, and used a variety of single-coil- and humbucker-outfitted guitars. While both pickup types interacted well with the pedal, the humbuckers were most pleasing to my ears with the bias cranked to about 2 o’clock or higher, since the ’buckers higher output allowed me to let notes sustain longer before sputtering out. Keeping the low-cut filter at 9 o’clock or lower also helped sustain and depth in the Velcro-fuzz zone, while letting more of the instruments’ natural voices come through, of course.
With the low-cut filter turned up full and the bias at 10 o’clock, I got the StarCrash to be the perfect doppelganger of my Hendrix reissue Fuzz Face. But that’s such a small part of the pedal’s overall tone profile. It was more fun to roll off just a bit of bass and set the bias knob to about 2 or 3 o’clock. Around these settings, the sound is huge and grinding, and yet barre chords hold their character while playing rhythm, and single-note runs, especially on the low strings, are a filthy delight, with just the right schmear of buttery sustain plus a hint of decay lurking behind every note. It’s such a ripe tone—the sonic equivalent of a delicious, stinky cheese—that I could hang with it all day.
Regarding Catalinbread’s claims about the volume control? Yes, it gets very loud without losing the essence of the notes or chords you’re playing, or the character of the fuzz, which is a distinct advantage when you’re in a band and need to stand out. And it’s a tad louder than my Fuzz Face but doesn’t really bark up to the level of most Tone Bender or Buzzaround clones I’ve heard. In my experience, these germanium-chipped critters of similar vintage can practically slam you through the wall when their volume levels are cranked.
The Verdict
Catalinbread’s StarCrash—with its sturdy enclosure, smooth on/off switch and easy-to-manipulate dials—can compete with any Fuzz Face variant in both price and performance, scoring high points on the latter count. The bias and low-cut dials provide access to a wider-than-usual variety of fuzz tones, and are especially delightful for long, playful solos dappled with gristle, flutter, and sustain. Kudos to Catalinbread for making this pedal not just a reflection of the past, but an improvement on it.
Catalinbread Starcrash 70 Fuzz Pedal - Starcrash 70 Collection
StarCrash 70 Fuzz PedalIntrepid knob-tweakers can blend between ring mod and frequency shifting and shoot for the stars.
Unique, bold, and daring sounds great for guitarists and producers. For how complex it is, it’s easy to find your way around.
Players who don’t have the time to invest might find the scope of this pedal intimidating.
$349
Red Panda Radius
redpandalab.com
The release of a newRed Panda pedal is something to be celebrated. Each of the company’s devices lets us crack into our signal chains and tweak its inner properties in unique, forward-thinking ways, encouraging us to be daring, create something new, and think about sound differently. In essence, they take us to the sonic frontier, where the most intrepid among us seek thrills.
Last January, I got my first glimpse of the Radius at NAMM and knew that Red Panda mastermind Curt Malouin had, once again, concocted something fresh. The pedal offers ring modulation and frequency shifting with pitch tracking and an LFO, and I heard classic ring-mod tones as the jumping off point for oodles of bold sounds generated by envelope and waveform-controlled modulation and interaction. I had to get my hands on one.
Enjoy the Process
I’ve heard some musicians talk about how the functionality of Red Panda’s pedals are deep to a point that they can be hard to follow. If that’s the case, it’s by design, simply because each Red Panda device opens access to an untrodden path. As such, it can feel heady to get into the details of the Radius, which blends between ring modulation and frequency shifting, offering control of the balance and shift ratios of the upper and lower sidebands to create effects including phasing, tremolo, and far less-natural sounds.
As complex as that all might seem, Red Panda’s pedals always make it easy to strip the controls down to their most essential form. The firmest ground for a guitarist to stand with the Radius is a simple ring-mod sound. To get that, I selected the ring mod function, turned off the modulation section by zeroing the rate and amount knobs, kept the shift switch off and the range switch on its lowest setting. With the mix at noon and the frequency knob cranked, I found my sound.
From there, by lowering the frequency range, the Radius will yield percussive tremolo tones, and the track knob helped me dial that in before opening up a host of phaser sounds below noon. By going the other direction and kicking the rate switch into its higher setting, a world of ring-mod tweaking opens up. There are some uniquely warped effects in these higher settings that include dial-up modem sounds and lo-fi dial tones. Exploring the ring mod/frequency shift knob widens the possibilities further to high-pitched, filtered white noise and glitchy digital artifacts at its extremes.
There are wild, active sounds within each knob movement on the Radius, and the modulation section naturally brings those to life in more ways than a simple knob tweak ever could, delivering four LFO waveforms, a step modulator, two x-mod waveforms, and an envelope follower. It’s within these settings that I found rayguns, sirens, Shepard tones, and futuristic sounds that were even harder to describe.
It’s easy to imagine the Radius at the forefront of sonic experiments, where it would be right at home. But this pedal could easily be a studio device when applied in low doses to give a track something special that pops. The possible applications go way beyond guitars.
The Verdict
The Radius isn’t easy to plug and play, but it’s also not hard to use if you keep an open mind. That’s necessary, too: The Radius is not for guitar players who prefer to stay grounded; this pedal is for sonic-stargazers and producers.
I enjoyed pairing the Radius with various guitar instruments—12-string, baritone, bass—and it kept getting me more and more excited about sonic experimentation. That feeling is a big part of what’s special about this pedal. It’s so open-ended and controllable, continuing to reveal more of its capabilities with use. Once you feel like you’ve gotten something down, there are often more sounds to explore, whether that’s putting a new instrument or pedal next to it or exploring the Radius’ stereo, MIDI, or expression-pedal functionality. Like many great instruments, it only takes a few minutes to get started, but it could keep you exploring for years.