Using custom guitars, loops, and carefully chosen effects, the Austrian 6-stringer blends jazz and classical mindsets to define the elegant, retro-nuevo sound of his new ECM album, Angular Blues.
In the early 1980s, Austrian guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel moved to Boston with something of a split musical identity. He went to the New England Conservatory and divided his time between jazz studies with legendary guitar instructor Mick Goodrick and classical lessons with noted composer, player, and teacher David Leisner. With Goodrick, Muthspiel flatpicked electric guitar and focused on jazz theory and improvisation, while with Leisner he embraced traditional classical technique and repertoire.
But for Muthspiel, the Conservatory proved to be a crossroads: By 1986 he'd not only transferred to Berklee and committed completely to jazz, but also started gigging, taking the coveted spot in noted vibraphonist Gary Burton's touring band—a gig akin to a rock shredder being invited to hit the road with Ozzy Osbourne. Other notable guitarists to hold that chair include Pat Metheny, John Scofield, and Julian Lage. And he began a decades-long musical collaboration playing in duos with Goodrick.
Although Muthspiel planted his flag firmly in the jazz camp, he never abandoned the nylon-string classical guitar. His live performances and recordings still feature him alternating between electric and acoustic, and he maintains a sense of purity to each approach. He plays acoustic guitar seated, sans amp or effects, his manicured nails hovering above the soundhole, while for electric-guitar pieces he stands, using either a flatpick or a hybrid picking technique, and runs his signal through a battery of pedals, loopers, and usually a Vox AC30.
But switching instruments is just one facet of what Muthspiel does. His discography includes more than 40 albums as a leader, and many other appearances as either a collaborator or sideman. He's also an accomplished composer and improviser, comfortable in multiple jazz idioms—from hard bop to free jazz. And although his core group is a trio, he's not afraid to experiment with other types of lineups.
Muthspiel's most recent trio release, Angular Blues, features bassist Scott Colley and drummer Brian Blade, and is both forward-looking and traditional. The 55-year-old shows off his technical prowess on the angular, intricate, and harmonically challenging title track, and blows through choruses on “Ride," his first time recording bop-style "rhythm changes" tune for ECM. The album features two “Kanons"—one in 5/4 and one in 6/8— which incorporate his unique approach to delays in a classical-style contrapuntal round. The album's overall sound conforms to the ECM playbook as well: recorded live with minimal edits and pristine fidelity. And while Muthspiel didn't fly his hefty AC30 to the Tokyo studio where Angular was tracked, they had a vintage Fender Princeton on hand that did the trick.
We spoke with Muthspiel just as it was becoming clear that his spring tour of the U.S. was about to be canceled. We discussed his apprenticeship under Burton and Goodrick, the distinct phases of his recording career, his never-ending fascination with loopers and delays, the intricacies of right- and left-hand technique, his long-term relationships with luthiers Nico Moffa and Jim Redgate, and why he still keeps his approaches to the electric and acoustic guitar separate.
Did you start as a classical player?
I started playing violin when I was 6, and I started playing guitar when I was 12. My whole first years, until I was about 14 or 15, were spent with classical music. Then I discovered jazz, got into it, and started playing electric guitar. I listened to Ralph Towner and people like that who made a bridge to the improvised world, and I went that way. I kept both things up, classical and jazz, until I was 22. I went to the States and studied in Boston with Mick Goodrick, who was at the New England Conservatory and teaching jazz, and David Leisner, who was teaching classical guitar. I went to Berklee two years later, because I had decided to go for jazz all the way, and then I met Gary Burton and so on. But the jazz and classical thing was parallel for a while.
Your studies with David Leisner were straight classical?
Totally. I was playing concerts with classical guitar and doing competitions and all that stuff. It's a small repertoire of really great music. There is a lot of great music you can play on the guitar, but strictly classical written music, some of the top guys have not written for the instrument. You have that wonderful lute stuff that Bach wrote, and all the great Renaissance lute music that you can play on guitar, and then some really cool modern music, but it is not such a big pool of music as compared to violin or piano. That also contributed to my decision to go all the way into jazz.
How long were you with Gary Burton?
I was playing in his band for two years, and it was an amazing thing for me to be hired by him. We toured quite a bit. I was still studying at Berklee, but we toured a lot in the States. That was a nice band. I met bassist Larry Grenadier in that band for the first time—who I played with a lot up until now—and Don McCaslin was on saxophone. Gary is a very clear and strong leader, and very supportive. It was really a good experience for me.
Did you start recording around that time as well?
My first record under my own name was a trio album that I recorded in the States, but I already did some recordings before, with my brother. The first phase of my improvised music was together with my brother, Christian, who's two years older. He is a pianist, trombonist, and composer, and we played together at home with every instrument that we had—with all the tools and toys we could find. We didn't know anything about jazz then, but it was the start of this kind of improvised music. My first records I did with him. But I did a trio record on my own, and Gary Burton was really helpful. He produced another album for me, where I could pick and choose who I played with. That was a great thing. He was generally really supportive. Him and Mick Goodrick, who was also a huge guy for me.
TIDBIT: Muthspiel says ECM's approach to recording is “an aesthetic where the natural flow of the improvisation of the musicians is captured as well as possible. It is about the moment—to catch the moment of the jazz musicians' conversation."
Mick was a strict, tough, great teacher, and, at the same time, we had a duo going on. Eventually we made a record much later. He has many cool approaches to harmony, and to the fretboard. Mick has a mathematic brain, and also a philosophical brain. He's thought very deeply about the instrument his whole life, and he knows how to communicate that to students. He was such a legendary teacher. He taught a lot of great players, and he was a fantastic influence.
How has your approach to recording changed since you started?
I had three periods of recording. One was for a label called PolyGram, which later became Universal. That was a certain era of recording, and there was a lot of [sonic] separation. There was an aesthetic of a certain sound—everyone was so proud of the highs and the crispness—and everything was super thin and sharp. It was not favoring the most organic, acoustic vibe.
Later, I founded my own label, in 2001, which is called Material Records. On this label, I've done about 45 records. Some are mine, but also from other people. That was another era of recording for me, where I could do whatever I wanted. I didn't have to ask anybody what I should record, but, at the same time, I also ran into restrictions.
What sorts of restrictions?
In order to really place a record in the world, it needs more than a good recording. It needs a network and a plan behind it, and people who will distribute it and promote it. I didn't have that with my record label, so those were years where I made a lot of records but they were not that much noticed. Then I got to ECM, which was the label that influenced me most when I was young. When I was getting into jazz, my heroes were on ECM. This is the last period, so to speak, with ECM.
How would you describe your experience recording for ECM?
ECM has a very conscious approach to sound and recording. It's an aesthetic where the natural flow of the improvisation of the musicians is captured as well as possible. It is about the moment—to catch the moment of the jazz musicians' conversation. It is not about editing or creating layers of tracks. It's like a very well-recorded live concert. That's due to the character and taste of Manfred Eicher, who built the label.There is some editing possible, but not with single instruments. You can edit a whole section away of everybody, but you can't go in and change a note, because it is recorded without separation, and everything bleeds into each other. It isn't only the technical aspects of it, but it is another attitude as well. It's like in a concert. It counts from the first note to the last, and that is a nice vibe. Also, the people I have been playing with on the last five records, which are on ECM, this is what they do. This is their game—what they're good at. Sometimes one take doesn't work, so you do another one, maybe with a different approach, but you don't splice together an album. That is not a bad thing in itself, by the way. There are some heavily edited records that I love. But it is not the way ECM does it.
This nylon-string classical guitar was made by Jim Redgate, who builds about 20 instruments each year in his solar-powered workshop in Australia. Photo by Scott Friedlander
Do you use the same gear when you record versus playing live?
I use the same guitars, for sure. Regarding the amp, if I can manage to bring the amp to the place where we're recording, yes, and if not, I make sure they have something that I really like. The last album, Angular Blues, was recorded in Tokyo. They had an old Fender Princeton in very good condition, so that was great. Normally, I have an older Vox AC30 that I like to use.
Do you play acoustic guitar using classical technique, and do you care for your nails like a classical player?
Absolutely. I have to—otherwise my sound is not happening. Every time you play for a few hours, your nails need some filing again so that the sound stays well. I do some simple things every day on the classical guitar just to keep that sound.
Do your nails get beat up when you fingerpick on your electric?
Yes, they tend to. On the electric, when I am playing lines, I pretty much use the pick. But with harmony and counterpoint, I use my nails. I play differently on the electric for sure. On the acoustic guitar, I have a technique where I pluck the string kind of hard, with an apoyando, where the finger rests on the next string after the stroke. It's like how the flamenco guys play. That's a technique that you can't use on the electric. For me, acoustic and electric are two quite different animals. I love both of them, but they need a different technique.
You must have been older when you first started using a pick.
Exactly. I was already playing quite fluently before I played with a pick, and I had to learn the whole pick thing from scratch.
Your left-hand technique appears to stay the same on acoustic and electric, though—you seem to keep your thumb in the center of the neck, which is a more traditional approach.
I would say so, yes. At this point, I am not consciously putting my hand in a certain way. But, of course, my whole first years were classically trained, so that stayed. Also, when the fingers come from really above the string, that is the easiest way to play with the least strength. With classical guitar, it is a little harder to press the string down, and if you don't have the right technique, your hands get tired, which is why they stress that so much. You use whatever technique uses the least pressure and muscles.
Recently you seem to use a lot of pedals when you play electric. Is that a new thing or have you always done that?
I always did and, I think early on, even more. I've been playing with loopers from the time they came out. Delays were a big sensation, and whenever a delay came out with a long delay time—it was way before the idea that you could have a loop or that you could record two minutes, it was totally out of reach—I went with all those technological steps. I also used loops a lot to practice and for solo concerts. There are two pieces on the album called kanons. One is a kanon in 5/4 and one is in 6/8, and they both use a delay with which I play the kanon. A kanon is nothing but a delay, so I figured out how to use it in that way.
Do you approach the kanon that way live, even with the band?
Yes, and in the band setting this delay that creates the kanon is tap-tempo. If the band changes tempo slightly—it's not that exact—I can tap the tempo along with my playing and I am always with them.
How does your role change playing with a trio as opposed to a larger group, like a quintet?
In the trio, I am responsible for more things—I can influence every harmonic move. It is basically a conversation with the bass and the drums, but as far as harmony and how I lay something out, it is really up to me. In the quintet, I see that we are equals in a big conversation. For example, the albums I did with pianist Brad Mehldau: Harmonically I was also letting him steer the music, and I was really enjoying being able to solo on top of his comping.
Guitars
Nico Moffa Mithra archtop electric
Jim Redgate classical
Amps
Vox AC30
Effects
Mad Professor Forest Green Compressor
Tonehunter Tasty Flakes
Boss OC-3 Super Octave
Boss DD-5 Digital Delay
Electro-Harmonix Superego Synth Engine
MXR Carbon Copy Analog Delay
GFI System Specular Reverb V3
DigiTech JamMan
Lehle switchers
TC Electronic Polytune Clip
Strings and Picks
Thomastik, D'Addario, or Elixir strings (.011 sets)
D'Addario medium-tension nylon strings
Dunlop 1.14 mm picks
When I play in a trio, only the bass comps for me harmonically, so I have to either imply the harmonies in my lines, or I have to provide them with chords. It is quite a different role. I like both, but the trio is the core discipline.
Piano and guitar have similar roles when someone else is soloing. You have to be able to navigate each other.
Exactly, which is fun and can be a great adventure, especially if you comp together. The easy way would be to say, “You comp on this song and I comp on this solo," so you don't get in each other's way. But it's much more fun to play together. If somebody's listening—and somebody like Brad Mehldau is listening very hard to everything—he would immediately react to what I do, or the other way around. Somebody would play something dense, and the other would play just a line or a tone and so on. That's a very interesting game to comp together with two harmonic instruments.
The new album has rhythm changes for a few standards, too. Is that a first for you?
It's the first time it's been recorded on ECM. I've done that for a while, of course. Getting into jazz, going to Boston, trying to learn that language, I dealt heavily with standards. When I got into jazz, I had the feeling that I had to make up for a lot of stuff that I missed when I was younger, because I was playing everything else but jazz. I knew the harmony of Bach, but I didn't know any harmony of [Duke] Ellington. I had to learn the language quickly, and standards were a big step for me. I kept them—not so much in concerts—but just for myself, and also as a teacher. But now it is nice to share that side again.
What inspired you to do that for this album?
Basically the fact that we played in a jazz club in Japan. It just felt right to add some standards. Also the fact that I played with Scott Colley [bass] and Brian Blade [drums]. Those two guys know this music inside out. It is second nature to them, and it was a luxurious situation for me.
Who built your electric?
It's built by an Italian luthier, Nico Moffa. He's been building me different ones. He's a wonderful, great guitar maker, and for 10 years we have been in touch a lot. He sends me stuff and I try it. I go to his workshop. The model is called Mithra. The acoustic guitar I play is made by a guy from Australia named Jim Redgate. In the last 10 years I've played a lot in Australia, so every time I go, I visit him, and he's another deep craftsman. For me, these relationships have become really important. The builders make them with you in mind. They listen to your music while they make the guitar. And the instrument influences the musician. If it works, everybody can learn from each other. The luthier needs your feedback and you need his guitar, so it is a good marriage.
Are the necks on your electrics built similar to a classical guitar neck?
The neck on the electric is much smaller. It's good that it is very different for me, because then I touch it and know I am in that world. It is a different thing, and my fingers react differently. When I touch the classical, it's that spacing. It is really two different instruments. Also, with acoustic guitar, I sit like a classical guitarist, and with electric guitar I stand. With electric guitar, I use a lot of effects, with acoustic guitar, none—and so on. I want to keep them two different worlds.
Based on his study of classical counterpoint, Wolfgang Muthspiel composed two “kanons" for his latest album. Here's a live trio version of his “Kanon in 6/8." Check out his use of delay and looping at 1:50 and 9:35, respectively.
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.