Joe Bonamassa and former Deep Purple bassist/vocalist Glenn Hughes discuss their fateful meeting at NAMM, their reverence for songcraft, and the holy relics used to summon their seething bluesrock rapture on Black Country Communion’s new album, "2".
Joe Bonamassa onstage with a Music Man Y2D outfitted with two
humbuckers, a single-coil, and a solid-brass tail block.
Joe Bonamassa, one of today’s hottest blues/blues-rock players, has enjoyed an extraordinarily charmed life—at least when it comes to all things guitar. His parents not only owned a music shop in upstate New York, they also owned a very cool record collection that turned him on to artists like Guitar Slim and Eric Clapton when he was practically a toddler. Later, they hooked him up with an enviable selection of instruments. Bonamassa proceeded to learn Stevie Ray Vaughan licks at the ripe age of 7, and by 12, as a protégé of Telecaster legend Danny Gatton, was skilled enough to open for blues god B.B. King.
Since 2000, Bonamassa, now 34, has perfected his trademark brand of electrifying blues-rock on more than a dozen albums. His searing lines and soulful vocals have proven just as popular with guitarists as with the general public. At press time, his latest solo album, Dust Bowl, had climbed to #37 on the US charts. But thanks to his insatiable playing appetite and tireless work ethic, Bonamassa has also been attracting attention in the rock super group Black Country Communion, which is fronted by former Deep Purple bassist/vocalist Glenn Hughes.
Black Country Communion vocalist/bassist Glenn Hughes wields
his Nash PB57 while Derek Sherinian pounds the ivories.
Having joined DP in 1974, and later doing a stint with Black Sabbath, Hughes had a hands-on role in shaping the heavier strains of the British blues-rock movement that is one of Bonamassa’s main benchmarks. In Black Country Communion, Bonamassa and Hughes are flanked by a pair of formidable musicians—the late Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham’s son Jason on drums and ex-Dream Theater wizard Derek Sherinian on keyboards. On 2, the follow-up to BCC’s acclaimed 2010 debut, the Anglo-American quartet plays a tight, fierce brand of rock that shows another side of Bonamassa. We recently spoke to Bonamassa and Hughes about their new rock ’n’ roll adventures and how they approach their music.
For those who haven’t heard yet, how did you guys come to form Black Country Communion?
Hughes: I met Joe around the time that he was on the rise, about five years ago, at a NAMM show in Los Angeles. It was a pleasure to encounter this really nice lad who grew up playing my music and Led Zeppelin’s. We befriended each other immediately. Joe came over to my house a few times to have lunch and play some music, and we casually talked about making a record together. Jump forward three years, and producer Kevin Shirley [Rush, Dream Theater, Iron Maiden] suggested we get together with Jason and Derek. After that, it all happened so quickly. Within a month, we were in the studio making our first album. The rest is history.
Bonamassa (right) rocks a flamed-maple Les Paul plugged into a pair of Marshall JCM2000s and a vintage Laney Klipp head, while Hughes routes his Nash PB57 through dual Laney Nexus-Tube stacks.
Joe, what was it like to go from fronting your own blues-based band to playing in a rock super group?
Bonamassa: If someone had told me just a few years ago that I’d be in a huge rock band, I’d have said, “You’re crazy.” But that’s the way life goes—there’s no telling where it will take you. It’s such an honor to be playing in a great group with such high-caliber musicians, some of whom I grew up listening to. And it’s a very comfortable position, too, just being the guitar player—kind of a relief from fronting my own band, which I do 160 nights a year.
On the other hand, being in a band like this can occasionally be kind of like a rugby scrum. It gets kind of rough and tumble, with everyone jockeying for position and all going for it at once, as opposed to having other players take on more supportive roles in a solo context. But I think we all have a great chemistry together on account of our shared affinity for British blues-rock, and everything comes together so quickly in the studio for us, kind of like what it must have been like back in the day for bands like the Faces.
Glenn, what was it like to play with Joe—did you feel any sort of generational divide?
Hughes: Absolutely not. Joe plays with maturity beyond his years and has such a deep knowledge of, and respect for, the blues tradition. It’s very pure. But Joe’s not just a great bluesman, he’s one of those rare lads who can cross effortlessly between blues and rock, not unlike a Jimmy Page or an Eric Clapton or a Gary Moore. Most rock guitarists can’t really play the blues—it’s not in their DNA—and vice versa. And Joe’s also a consummate professional— he recorded everything mostly on one take and never more than two. I especially liked his signature sound on “Cold”—so painful, like a dying bird, but exquisitely beautiful.
Bonamassa: Neither, really. I like to think of myself as the Line 6 Pod of guitar players: You can set me to “Blues Breakers Clapton” and I’ll pull it off, you can set me to “British Blues-Rock 1974” and I’ll pull it off, you can set me to “Vintage Muddy Waters” and I’ll pull it off. Whatever the situation calls for, I like to think I can deliver in an authentic way.
Glenn, your bass lines on 2 are so soulful and melodic— even in such a hard-rock context. Who are your influences, and how do you go about writing bass lines?
Hughes: It all goes back to when I was a boy in short trousers living in the north of England and getting into the Beatles and, later, the Stones as a sort of rebellious thing. Then, in my late teens, I started getting excited about sounds from black America—some blues, but mostly Motown and Tamla soul records . . . players like James Jamerson and Carol Kaye. All of these sounds came together to inform my sound, and I obviously wear my influences upon my sleeve.
I’m a singer, and the bass is an extension of my voice, so what I write on the bass tends to be highly melodic. I also tend to bend the strings a lot to get a vocal-like sound. Because of that, I’ve used light-gauge strings since the 1960s, and I’ve never had a problem with them going out of tune. I’m not a hammer-on bass player—I don’t come from the ’80s school of thought, where more notes are better. In a nutshell, I write simple bass lines where what I don’t play is as important as what I do—tuneful bass lines that have a nice, old-school groove and anchor the song rather than busy it up.
What is your songwriting process like?
Hughes: It’s very natural—the cornerstone of my life, really. What I mainly do is hatch an idea for a song and watch it develop. It often begins for me late at night when my wife and I go into the bedroom, where four dogs are usually hanging out on the bed and an acoustic guitar is sitting next to it on a stand—a very relaxed environment for writing, unlike sitting at a desk and forcing myself to write. I believe, by the way, that all of the greatest songs were written on acoustic—take, for example, “Satisfaction” and “A Day in the Life.” In any case, as my wife and I wind down from the day, I’ll just pick up the guitar and play for a while, recording it onto a Dictaphone. The next morning, I’ll have a listen to the tape and see if I captured anything worth expanding into a complete song with lyrics.
For this particular album, even though I was working with brilliant improvisers, I didn’t want to just go into the studio and jam. It’s nothing against jam music—in fact we’ll probably morph into jamming a bit when we take these new songs on the road. Luckily, I had the luxury of spending about four months on writing the songs, rather than rushing something together at the last minute. I brought about a half-dozen barebones sketches, with melodies, chord progressions, and lyrics, into the studio and gave my mates permission to kick my babies around the room. That’s the way I look at it—songs are like children. It was hard to let go of them at first, but in the end I trusted everyone to add and subtract little bits and pieces. That’s the best way to do it in a band, democratically. In this case, it made my music better to share it with a group of strong individuals— which is something I hadn’t done in a long time until BCC got together.
Bonamassa: I think one of my biggest models, in terms of songwriting, is Jimmy Page. I try to take old blues music and make it my own like he did. In terms of the process, a lot of guitarists start out with licks or riffs, but I usually come up with the lyrics first—or, at the very least, the title. When it comes time to write the music, I use whatever guitar I have close by—I have about 100 in my collection—and try to come up with things that are as much about the song as the solo.
Joe, what was it like to go from fronting your own blues-based band to playing in a rock super group?
Bonamassa: If someone had told me just a few years ago that I’d be in a huge rock band, I’d have said, “You’re crazy.” But that’s the way life goes—there’s no telling where it will take you. It’s such an honor to be playing in a great group with such high-caliber musicians, some of whom I grew up listening to. And it’s a very comfortable position, too, just being the guitar player—kind of a relief from fronting my own band, which I do 160 nights a year.
On the other hand, being in a band like this can occasionally be kind of like a rugby scrum. It gets kind of rough and tumble, with everyone jockeying for position and all going for it at once, as opposed to having other players take on more supportive roles in a solo context. But I think we all have a great chemistry together on account of our shared affinity for British blues-rock, and everything comes together so quickly in the studio for us, kind of like what it must have been like back in the day for bands like the Faces.
Glenn, what was it like to play with Joe—did you feel any sort of generational divide?
Hughes: Absolutely not. Joe plays with maturity beyond his years and has such a deep knowledge of, and respect for, the blues tradition. It’s very pure. But Joe’s not just a great bluesman, he’s one of those rare lads who can cross effortlessly between blues and rock, not unlike a Jimmy Page or an Eric Clapton or a Gary Moore. Most rock guitarists can’t really play the blues—it’s not in their DNA—and vice versa. And Joe’s also a consummate professional— he recorded everything mostly on one take and never more than two. I especially liked his signature sound on “Cold”—so painful, like a dying bird, but exquisitely beautiful.
Bonamassa: Neither, really. I like to think of myself as the Line 6 Pod of guitar players: You can set me to “Blues Breakers Clapton” and I’ll pull it off, you can set me to “British Blues-Rock 1974” and I’ll pull it off, you can set me to “Vintage Muddy Waters” and I’ll pull it off. Whatever the situation calls for, I like to think I can deliver in an authentic way.
Glenn, your bass lines on 2 are so soulful and melodic— even in such a hard-rock context. Who are your influences, and how do you go about writing bass lines?
Hughes: It all goes back to when I was a boy in short trousers living in the north of England and getting into the Beatles and, later, the Stones as a sort of rebellious thing. Then, in my late teens, I started getting excited about sounds from black America—some blues, but mostly Motown and Tamla soul records . . . players like James Jamerson and Carol Kaye. All of these sounds came together to inform my sound, and I obviously wear my influences upon my sleeve.
I’m a singer, and the bass is an extension of my voice, so what I write on the bass tends to be highly melodic. I also tend to bend the strings a lot to get a vocal-like sound. Because of that, I’ve used light-gauge strings since the 1960s, and I’ve never had a problem with them going out of tune. I’m not a hammer-on bass player—I don’t come from the ’80s school of thought, where more notes are better. In a nutshell, I write simple bass lines where what I don’t play is as important as what I do—tuneful bass lines that have a nice, old-school groove and anchor the song rather than busy it up.
What is your songwriting process like?
Hughes: It’s very natural—the cornerstone of my life, really. What I mainly do is hatch an idea for a song and watch it develop. It often begins for me late at night when my wife and I go into the bedroom, where four dogs are usually hanging out on the bed and an acoustic guitar is sitting next to it on a stand—a very relaxed environment for writing, unlike sitting at a desk and forcing myself to write. I believe, by the way, that all of the greatest songs were written on acoustic—take, for example, “Satisfaction” and “A Day in the Life.” In any case, as my wife and I wind down from the day, I’ll just pick up the guitar and play for a while, recording it onto a Dictaphone. The next morning, I’ll have a listen to the tape and see if I captured anything worth expanding into a complete song with lyrics.
For this particular album, even though I was working with brilliant improvisers, I didn’t want to just go into the studio and jam. It’s nothing against jam music—in fact we’ll probably morph into jamming a bit when we take these new songs on the road. Luckily, I had the luxury of spending about four months on writing the songs, rather than rushing something together at the last minute. I brought about a half-dozen barebones sketches, with melodies, chord progressions, and lyrics, into the studio and gave my mates permission to kick my babies around the room. That’s the way I look at it—songs are like children. It was hard to let go of them at first, but in the end I trusted everyone to add and subtract little bits and pieces. That’s the best way to do it in a band, democratically. In this case, it made my music better to share it with a group of strong individuals— which is something I hadn’t done in a long time until BCC got together.
Bonamassa: I think one of my biggest models, in terms of songwriting, is Jimmy Page. I try to take old blues music and make it my own like he did. In terms of the process, a lot of guitarists start out with licks or riffs, but I usually come up with the lyrics first—or, at the very least, the title. When it comes time to write the music, I use whatever guitar I have close by—I have about 100 in my collection—and try to come up with things that are as much about the song as the solo.
One of Bonamassa’s favorite guitars—a 1959 Gibson Les Paul he calls “Magellan”—getting
cozy with a Native Americanthemed blanket and pillow.
A close-up of Magellan, which features a beautiful honeyburst finish and is all original except for its tuners.
Joe, you’re known as a big-time gear aficionado. What were some of the guitars you used on 2?
Bonamassa: I had something like 40 freakin’ guitars at my disposal for the record. I used a bunch of Gibson Les Pauls—some of my goldtop signature models and a real ’59 burst that I’ve nicknamed Magellan because it’s traveled around the world with me. It’s all stock except for the tuners, which I swapped out. I also played a Gibson Custom Don Felder doubleneck, an ’82 Explorer with three humbuckers like a Les Paul Custom, a Fender Jeff Beck Stratocaster, and a Music Man Steve Morse Y2D. For acoustic, I used an extremely rare 1969 Grammer Johnny Cash model.
Which amps and effects did you record the album with?
Bonamassa: I selected from a wall of Marshalls: four Jubilees and four ’69 metal-panel Super Leads that I kept powered up continuously during the sessions. For cabs, I had two old Marshall Super Basses and two Mojo cabinets, all with Electro- Voice EVM12L speakers. I made pretty minimal use of effects on the record—just a Tube Screamer, a Boss DD-3, my signature Fuzz Face, and a new signature wah-wah that was custom-made by Jeorge Tripps of Dunlop Manufacturing and Way Huge Electronics. [Ed. note: According to Tripps, the wah has a copper top with a gloss-black bottom and features a Halo inductor and full-size components mounted on a through-hole board for sweet, vintage tone.]
Glenn, what are some of your go-to basses?
Hughes: I have a number of old Fenders, but lately I’ve been playing a couple of P-bass-style instruments—one in Dakota Red and the other in Olympic White—made by Bill Nash, the great relic builder. His basses not only look realistically old, they sound remarkably like ’50s models. I’m utterly blown away by them—they work staggeringly well for me. And, in case you’re wondering, I don’t get paid to play them.
Black Country Communion—keyboardist Derek Sherinian (left), Hughes, drummer Jason Bonham, and Bonamassa—smoking onstage.
What about effects and amplification?
Hughes: I don’t use any effects in Black Country Communion. I’m pretty organic and don’t really fly with processed stuff. Instead, I plug straight into a pair of 400-watt Laney Nexus- Tube amps, which have an amazingly thick sound that reminds me of the Hiwatts I used back in my Deep Purple days.
Joe, on 2, you get a sound that could be described as metal-like in spots—like in the dropped-D riffing in “The Outsider.” Have you always been into that genre?
Bonamassa: Yes. It might not always be obvious from listening to my other music, but I’ve long been a big fan of metal for its mystery and intrigue. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it, since metal is rooted in the blues.
One of Bonamassa’s favorite guitars—a 1959 Gibson Les Paul he calls “Magellan”—getting
cozy with a Native Americanthemed blanket and pillow.
A close-up of Magellan, which features a beautiful honeyburst finish and is all original except for its tuners.
Joe, you’re known as a big-time gear aficionado. What were some of the guitars you used on 2?
Bonamassa: I had something like 40 freakin’ guitars at my disposal for the record. I used a bunch of Gibson Les Pauls—some of my goldtop signature models and a real ’59 burst that I’ve nicknamed Magellan because it’s traveled around the world with me. It’s all stock except for the tuners, which I swapped out. I also played a Gibson Custom Don Felder doubleneck, an ’82 Explorer with three humbuckers like a Les Paul Custom, a Fender Jeff Beck Stratocaster, and a Music Man Steve Morse Y2D. For acoustic, I used an extremely rare 1969 Grammer Johnny Cash model.
Which amps and effects did you record the album with?
Bonamassa: I selected from a wall of Marshalls: four Jubilees and four ’69 metal-panel Super Leads that I kept powered up continuously during the sessions. For cabs, I had two old Marshall Super Basses and two Mojo cabinets, all with Electro- Voice EVM12L speakers. I made pretty minimal use of effects on the record—just a Tube Screamer, a Boss DD-3, my signature Fuzz Face, and a new signature wah-wah that was custom-made by Jeorge Tripps of Dunlop Manufacturing and Way Huge Electronics. [Ed. note: According to Tripps, the wah has a copper top with a gloss-black bottom and features a Halo inductor and full-size components mounted on a through-hole board for sweet, vintage tone.]
Glenn, what are some of your go-to basses?
Hughes: I have a number of old Fenders, but lately I’ve been playing a couple of P-bass-style instruments—one in Dakota Red and the other in Olympic White—made by Bill Nash, the great relic builder. His basses not only look realistically old, they sound remarkably like ’50s models. I’m utterly blown away by them—they work staggeringly well for me. And, in case you’re wondering, I don’t get paid to play them.
Black Country Communion—keyboardist Derek Sherinian (left), Hughes, drummer Jason Bonham, and Bonamassa—smoking onstage.
What about effects and amplification?
Hughes: I don’t use any effects in Black Country Communion. I’m pretty organic and don’t really fly with processed stuff. Instead, I plug straight into a pair of 400-watt Laney Nexus- Tube amps, which have an amazingly thick sound that reminds me of the Hiwatts I used back in my Deep Purple days.
Joe, on 2, you get a sound that could be described as metal-like in spots—like in the dropped-D riffing in “The Outsider.” Have you always been into that genre?
Bonamassa: Yes. It might not always be obvious from listening to my other music, but I’ve long been a big fan of metal for its mystery and intrigue. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it, since metal is rooted in the blues.
How did you get that molten liquid lead sound on “Faithless”?
Bonamassa: B
with a Jim Dunlop brass slide. |
Which parts on the record are you most proud of?
Bonamassa: I really like what I did on “Save Me,” which is built around this riff that is very Zeppelin-inspired. The sound is all Marshall amp and EV speakers, and for the solo I just went for it with a bunch of sixteenth-notes that were appropriate for the urgent vibe we were going for.
Were your solos generally preplanned or improvised?
Bonamassa: They were all definitely spontaneous. That’s the way I play, to maintain a fresh sense of inspiration and to avoid sounding contrived—to keep both me and the listener from getting bored too easily.
Glenn, all of your bass lines on the record are uniformly excellent, but the one on “The Battle for Hadrian’s Wall” really stands out.
Hughes: Yes, I think that bass line is a good example of what I’m talking about when I say that the bass is an extension of my voice. Also, the song sounds a bit like the pastoral side of Led Zeppelin, doesn’t it? That’s only appropriate, being as John Bonham’s lad was in the drum chair.
You’re both in tip-top form on the record. What do you do to maintain your chops?
Bonamassa: Not a lot, to be honest. Mostly I just play two or three hours every day and that seems to do the trick.
Hughes: I play a bit every day, but more often on guitar than on bass. I’m kind of eccentric. I’ve got guitars everywhere in my house—even in the kitchen . . . vintage Les Pauls and Strats, a lovely Gibson Dove, and an old mahogany-bodied Martin. I don’t go about it in any structured way—I’ll just pick it up and play what comes naturally, whether for two minutes or two hours at a stretch, listening to the chords that come out and thinking about how I can turn them into a song. Music and songwriting really are at the center of my universe.
Hughes, Bonham, and Bonamassa in a groove. Note that Bonham’s kick drum bears the symbol used by his father, John, on Led Zeppelin IV—a rune that reportedly represents a father, mother, and child.
Joe Bonamassa’s Gearbox
Guitars
1959 Gibson Les Paul nicknamed “Magellan,” Gibson Joe Bonamassa Les Paul, Gibson Don Felder “Hotel California” EDS-1275 6/12 doubleneck, Gibson Explorer, Fender Jeff Beck Stratocaster, Music Man Steve Morse Y2D, 1969 Grammer Johnny Cash acoustic
Amps
Four Marshall Jubilee heads, four 1969 Marshall Super Lead heads, two Marshall Super Bass 4x12 cabinets with Electro-Voice EVM12L speakers, two Mojo 4x12 cabinets with Electro-Voice EVM12L speakers
Effects
Ibanez Tube Screamer, Boss DD-3 Digital Delay, Jim Dunlop JBF3 Fuzz Face, Jim Dunlop Joe Bonamassa Signature Wah
Strings, Picks, and Accessories
Ernie Ball Slinky (.011–.052 sets on both electric and acoustic guitars), signature Jim Dunlop Jazz III Joe Bonamassa picks, Jim Dunlop metal slide
Glenn Hughes’ Gearbox
Basses
Two Nash Guitars PB57s, assorted vintage Fenders
Amps
Two Laney Nexus-Tube heads
Strings
D’Addario EXL170 (.045–.100)
How did you get that molten liquid lead sound on “Faithless”?
Bonamassa: B
with a Jim Dunlop brass slide. |
Which parts on the record are you most proud of?
Bonamassa: I really like what I did on “Save Me,” which is built around this riff that is very Zeppelin-inspired. The sound is all Marshall amp and EV speakers, and for the solo I just went for it with a bunch of sixteenth-notes that were appropriate for the urgent vibe we were going for.
Were your solos generally preplanned or improvised?
Bonamassa: They were all definitely spontaneous. That’s the way I play, to maintain a fresh sense of inspiration and to avoid sounding contrived—to keep both me and the listener from getting bored too easily.
Glenn, all of your bass lines on the record are uniformly excellent, but the one on “The Battle for Hadrian’s Wall” really stands out.
Hughes: Yes, I think that bass line is a good example of what I’m talking about when I say that the bass is an extension of my voice. Also, the song sounds a bit like the pastoral side of Led Zeppelin, doesn’t it? That’s only appropriate, being as John Bonham’s lad was in the drum chair.
You’re both in tip-top form on the record. What do you do to maintain your chops?
Bonamassa: Not a lot, to be honest. Mostly I just play two or three hours every day and that seems to do the trick.
Hughes: I play a bit every day, but more often on guitar than on bass. I’m kind of eccentric. I’ve got guitars everywhere in my house—even in the kitchen . . . vintage Les Pauls and Strats, a lovely Gibson Dove, and an old mahogany-bodied Martin. I don’t go about it in any structured way—I’ll just pick it up and play what comes naturally, whether for two minutes or two hours at a stretch, listening to the chords that come out and thinking about how I can turn them into a song. Music and songwriting really are at the center of my universe.
Hughes, Bonham, and Bonamassa in a groove. Note that Bonham’s kick drum bears the symbol used by his father, John, on Led Zeppelin IV—a rune that reportedly represents a father, mother, and child.
Joe Bonamassa’s Gearbox
Guitars
1959 Gibson Les Paul nicknamed “Magellan,” Gibson Joe Bonamassa Les Paul, Gibson Don Felder “Hotel California” EDS-1275 6/12 doubleneck, Gibson Explorer, Fender Jeff Beck Stratocaster, Music Man Steve Morse Y2D, 1969 Grammer Johnny Cash acoustic
Amps
Four Marshall Jubilee heads, four 1969 Marshall Super Lead heads, two Marshall Super Bass 4x12 cabinets with Electro-Voice EVM12L speakers, two Mojo 4x12 cabinets with Electro-Voice EVM12L speakers
Effects
Ibanez Tube Screamer, Boss DD-3 Digital Delay, Jim Dunlop JBF3 Fuzz Face, Jim Dunlop Joe Bonamassa Signature Wah
Strings, Picks, and Accessories
Ernie Ball Slinky (.011–.052 sets on both electric and acoustic guitars), signature Jim Dunlop Jazz III Joe Bonamassa picks, Jim Dunlop metal slide
Glenn Hughes’ Gearbox
Basses
Two Nash Guitars PB57s, assorted vintage Fenders
Amps
Two Laney Nexus-Tube heads
Strings
D’Addario EXL170 (.045–.100)
Day 6 of Stompboxtober is here! Today’s prize? A pedal from Revv Amplification! Enter now and check back tomorrow for the next one!
Revv G3 Purple Channel Preamp/Overdrive/Distortion Pedal - Anniversary Edition
The Revv G3 revolutionized high gain pedals in 2018 with its tube-like response & tight, clear high gain tones. Suddenly the same boutique tones used by metal artists & producers worldwide were available to anyone in a compact pedal. Now the G3 returns with a new V2 circuit revision that raises the bar again.
Beauty and sweet sonority elevate a simple-to-use, streamlined acoustic and vocal amplifier.
An EQ curve that trades accuracy for warmth. Easy-to-learn, simple-to-use controls. It’s pretty!
Still exhibits some classic acoustic-amplification problems, like brash, unforgiving midrange if you’re not careful.
$1,199
Taylor Circa 74
taylorguitars.com
Save for a few notable (usually expensive) exceptions, acoustic amplifiers are rarely beautiful in a way that matches the intrinsic loveliness of an acoustic flattop. I’ve certainly seen companies try—usually by using brown-colored vinyl to convey … earthiness? Don’t get me wrong, a lot of these amps sound great and even look okay. But the bar for aesthetics, in my admittedly snotty opinion, remains rather low. So, my hat’s off to Taylor for clearing that bar so decisively and with such style. The Circa 74 is, indeed, a pretty piece of work that’s forgiving to work with, ease to use, streamlined, and sharp.
Boxing Beyond Utility
Any discussion of trees or wood with Bob Taylor is a gas, and highly instructive. He loves the stuff and has dabbled before in amplifier designs that made wood an integral feature, rather than just trim. But the Circa 74 is more than just an aesthetic exercise. Because the Taylor gang started to think in a relatively unorthodox way about acoustic sound amplification—eschewing the notion that flat frequency response is the only path to attractive acoustic tone.
I completely get this. I kind of hate flat-response speakers. I hate nice monitors. We used to have a joke at a studio I frequented about a pair of monitors that often made us feel angry and agitated. Except that they really did. Flat sound can be flat-out exhausting and lame. What brings me happiness is listening to Lee “Scratch” Perry—loud—on a lazy Sunday on my secondhand ’70s Klipsch speakers. One kind of listening is like staring at a sun-dappled summer garden gone to riot with flowers. The other sometimes feels like a stale cheese sandwich delivered by robot.
The idea that live acoustic music—and all its best, earthy nuances—can be successfully communicated via a system that imparts its own color is naturally at odds with acoustic culture’s ethos of organic-ness, authenticity, and directness. But where does purity end and begin in an amplified acoustic signal? An undersaddle pickup isn’t made of wood. A PA with flat-response speakers didn’t grow in a forest. So why not build an amp with color—the kind of color that makes listening to music a pleasure and not a chore?
To some extent, that question became the design brief that drove the evolution of the Circa 74. Not coincidentally, the Circa 74 feels as effortless to use as a familiar old hi-fi. It has none of the little buttons for phase correction that make me anxious every time I see one. There’s two channels: one with an XLR/1/4" combo input, which serves as the vocal channel if you are a singer; another with a 1/4" input for your instrument. Each channel consists of just five controls—level, bass, middle, and treble EQ, and a reverb. An 11th chickenhead knob just beneath the jewel lamp governs the master output. That’s it, if you don’t include the Bluetooth pairing button and 1/8" jacks for auxiliary sound sources and headphones. Power, by the way, is rated at 150 watts. That pours forth through a 10" speaker.Pretty in Practice
I don’t want to get carried away with the experiential and aesthetic aspects of the Circa 74. It’s an amplifier with a job to do, after all. But I had fun setting it up—finding a visually harmonious place among a few old black-panel Fender amps and tweed cabinets, where it looked very much at home, and in many respects equally timeless.
Plugging in a vocal mic and getting a balance with my guitar happened in what felt like 60 seconds. Better still, the sound that came from the Circa 74, including an exceedingly croaky, flu-addled human voice, sounded natural and un-abrasive. The Circa 74 isn’t beyond needing an assist. Getting the most accurate picture of a J-45 with a dual-source pickup meant using both the treble and midrange in the lower third of their range. Anything brighter sounded brash. A darker, all-mahogany 00, however, preferred a scooped EQ profile with the treble well into the middle of its range. You still have to do the work of overcoming classic amplification problems like extra-present high mids and boxiness. But the fixes come fast, easily, and intuitively. The sound may not suggest listening to an audiophile copy of Abbey Road, as some discussions of the amp would lead you to expect. But there is a cohesiveness, particularly in the low midrange, that does give it the feel of something mixed, even produced, but still quite organic.
The Verdict
Taylor got one thing right: The aesthetic appeal of the Circa 74 has a way of compelling you to play and sing. Well, actually, they got a bunch of things right. The EQ is responsive and makes it easy to achieve a warm representation of your acoustic, no matter what its tone signature. It’s also genuinely attractive. It’s not perfectly accurate. Instead, it’s rich in low-mid resonance and responsive to treble-frequency tweaks—lending a glow not a million miles away from a soothing home stereo. I think that approach to acoustic amplification is as valid as the quest for transparency. I’m excited to see how that thinking evolves, and how Taylor responds to their discoveries.
The evolution of Electro-Harmonix’s very first effect yields a powerful boost and equalization machine at a rock-bottom price.
A handy and versatile preamp/booster that goes well beyond the average basic booster’s range. Powerful EQ section.
Can sound a little harsh at more extreme EQ ranges.
$129
Electro-Harmonix LPB-3
ehx.com
Descended from the first Electro-Harmonix pedal ever released, the LPB-1 Linear Power Booster, the new LPB-3 has come a long way from the simple, one-knob unit in a folded-metal enclosure that plugged straight into your amplifier. Now living in Electro-Harmonix’s compact Nano chassis, the LPB-3 Linear Power Booster and EQ boasts six control knobs, two switches, and more gain than ever before.
If 3 Were 6
With six times the controls found on the 1 and 2 versions (if you discount the original’s on/off slider switch,) the LPB-3’s control complement offers pre-gain, boost, mid freq, bass, treble, and mid knobs, with a center detent on the latter three so you can find the midpoint easily. A mini-toggle labeled “max” selects between 20 dB and 33 dB of maximum gain, and another labeled “Q” flips the resonance of the mid EQ between high and low. Obviously, this represents a significant expansion of the LPB’s capabilities.
More than just a booster with a passive tone, the LPB-3 boasts a genuine active EQ stage plus parametric midrange section, comprising the two knobs with shaded legends, mid freq and mid level. The gain stages have also been reimagined to include a pre-gain stage before the EQ, which enables up to 20 dB of input gain. The boost stage that follows the EQ is essentially a level control with gain to allow for up to 33 dB of gain through the LPB-3 when the “max” mini toggle is set to 33dB
A slider switch accessible inside the pedal selects between buffered or true bypass for the hard-latch footswitch. An AC adapter is included, which supplies 200mA of DC at 9.6 volts to the center-negative power input, and EHX specifies that nothing supplying less than 120mA or more than 12 volts should be used. There’s no space for an internal battery.
Power-Boosted
The LPB-3 reveals boatloads of range that betters many linear boosts on the market. There’s lots of tone-shaping power here. Uncolored boost is available when you want it, and the preamp gain knob colors and fattens your signal as you crank it up—even before you tap into the massive flexibility in the EQ stage.
“The preamp gain knob colors and fattens your signal as you crank it up—even before you tap into the massive flexibility in the EQ stage.”
I found the two mid controls work best when used judiciously, and my guitars and amps preferred subtle changes pretty close to the midpoint on each. However, there are still tremendous variations in your mid boost (or scoop, for that matter) within just 15 or 20 percent range in either direction from the center detent. Pushing the boost and pre-gain too far, particularly with the 33 dB setting engaged, can lead to some harsh sounds, but they are easy to avoid and might even be desirable for some users that like to work at more creative extremes.
The Verdict
The new LPB-3 has much, much more range than its predecessors, providing flexible preamp, boost, and overdrive sounds that can be reshaped in significant ways via the powerful EQ. It gives precise tone-tuning flexibility to sticklers that like to match a guitar and amp to a song in a very precise way, but also opens up more radical paths for experimentalists. That it does all this at a $129 price is beyond reasonable.
Electro-Harmonix Lpb-3 Linear Power Booster & Eq Effect Pedal Silver And Blue
Intermediate
Intermediate
• Learn classic turnarounds.
• Add depth and interest to common progressions.
• Stretch out harmonically with hip substitutions.
Get back to center in musical and ear-catching ways.
A turnaround chord progression has one mission: It allows the music to continue seamlessly back to the beginning of the form while reinforcing the key center in a musically interesting way. Consider the last four measures of a 12-bar blues in F, where the bare-bones harmony would be C7-Bb7-F7-F7 (one chord per measure). With no turn around in the last two measures, you would go back to the top of the form, landing on another F7. That’s a lot of F7, both at the end of the form, and then again in the first four bars of the blues. Without a turnaround, you run the risk of obscuring the form of the song. It would be like writing a novel without using paragraphs or punctuation.
The most common turnaround is the I-VI-ii-V chord progression, which can be applied to the end of the blues and is frequently used when playing jazz standards. Our first four turnarounds are based on this chord progression. Furthermore, by using substitutions and chord quality changes, you get more mileage out of the I-VI-ii-V without changing the basic functionality of the turnaround itself. The second group of four turnarounds features unique progressions that have been borrowed from songs or were created from a theoretical idea.
In each example, I added extensions and alterations to each chord and stayed away from the pure R-3-5-7 voicings. This will give each chord sequence more color and interesting voice leading. Each turnaround has a companion solo line that reflects the sound of the changes. Shell voicings (root, 3rd, 7th) are played underneath so that the line carries the sound of the written chord changes, making it easier to hear the sound of the extensions and alterations. All examples are in the key of C. Let’s hit it.
The first turnaround is the tried and true I-VI-ii-V progression, played as Cmaj7-A7-Dm7-G7. Ex. 1 begins with C6/9, to A7(#5), to Dm9, to G7(#5), and resolves to Cmaj7(#11). By using these extensions and alterations, I get a smoother, mostly chromatic melodic line at the top of the chord progression.
Ex. 2 shows one possible line that you can create. As for scale choices, I used C major pentatonic over C6/9, A whole tone for A7(#5), D Dorian for Dm9, G whole tone for G7(#5), and C Lydian for Cmaj7(#11) to get a more modern sound.
The next turnaround is the iii-VI-ii-V progression, played as Em7-A7-Dm7-G7 where the Em7 is substituted for Cmaj7. The more elaborate version in Ex. 3 shows Em9 to A7(#9)/C#, to Dm6/9, to G9/B, resolving to Cmaj7(add6). A common way to substitute chords is to use the diatonic chord that is a 3rd above the written chord. So, to sub out the I chord (Cmaj7) you would use the iii chord (Em7). By spelling Cmaj7 = C-E-G-B and Em7 = E-G-B-D, you can see that these two chords have three notes in common, and will sound similar over the fundamental bass note, C. The dominant 7ths are in first inversion, but serve the same function while having a more interesting bass line.
The line in Ex. 4 uses E Dorian over Em9, A half-whole diminished over A7(#9)/C#, D Dorian over Dm6/9, G Mixolydian over G9/B, and C major pentatonic over Cmaj7(add6). The chord qualities we deal with most are major 7, dominant 7, and minor 7. A quality change is just that… changing the quality of the written chord to another one. You could take a major 7 and change it to a dominant 7, or even a minor 7. Hence the III-VI-II-V turnaround, where the III and the VI have both been changed to a dominant 7, and the basic changes would be E7-A7-D7-G7.
See Ex. 5, where E7(b9) moves to A7(#11), to D7(#9) to G7(#5) to Cmaj9. My scale choices for the line in Ex. 6 are E half-whole diminished over E7(#9), A Lydian Dominant for A7(#11), D half-whole diminished for D7(#9), G whole tone for G7(#5), and C Ionian for Cmaj9.
Ex. 7 is last example in the I-VI-ii-V category. Here, the VI and V are replaced with their tritone substitutes. Specifically, A7 is replaced with Eb7, and G7 is replaced with Db7, and the basic progression becomes Cmaj7-Eb7-Dm7-Db7. Instead of altering the tritone subs, I used a suspended 4th sound that helped to achieve a diatonic, step-wise melody in the top voice of the chord progression.
The usual scales can be found an Ex. 8, where are use a C major pentatonic over C6/9, Eb Mixolydian over Eb7sus4, D Dorian over Dm11, Db Mixolydian over Db7sus4, and once again, C Lydian over Cmaj7(#11). You might notice that the shapes created by the two Mixolydian modes look eerily similar to minor pentatonic shapes. That is by design, since a Bb minor pentatonic contains the notes of an Eb7sus4 chord. Similarly, you would use an Ab minor pentatonic for Db7sus4.
The next four turnarounds are not based on the I-VI-ii-V chord progression, but have been adapted from other songs or theoretical ideas. Ex. 9 is called the “Backdoor” turnaround, and uses a iv-bVII-I chord progression, played as Fm7-Bb7-Cmaj7. In order to keep the two-bar phrase intact, a full measure of C precedes the actual turnaround. I was able to compose a descending whole-step melodic line in the top voice by using Cmaj13 and Cadd9/E in the first bar, Fm6 and Ab/Bb in the second bar, and then resolving to G/C. The slash chords have a more open sound, and are being used as substitutes for the original changes. They have the same function, and they share notes with their full 7th chord counterparts.
Creating the line in Ex. 10 is no more complicated than the other examples since the function of the chords determines which mode or scale to use. The first measure employs the C Ionian mode over the two Cmaj chord sounds. F Dorian is used over Fm6 in bar two. Since Ab/Bb is a substitute for Bb7, I used Bb Mixolydian. In the last measure, C Ionian is used over the top of G/C.
The progression in Ex. 11 is the called the “Lady Bird” turnaround because it is lifted verbatim from the Tadd Dameron song of the same name. It is a I-bIII-bVI-bII chord progression usually played as Cmaj7-Eb7-Abmaj7-Db7. Depending on the recording or the book that you check out, there are slight variations in the last chord but Db7 seems to be the most used. Dressing up this progression, I started with a different G/C voicing, to Eb9(#11), to Eb/Ab (subbing for Abmaj7), to Db9(#11), resolving to C(add#11). In this example, the slash chords are functioning as major seventh chords.
As a result, my scale choices for the line in Ex. 12 are C Ionian over G/C, Eb Lydian Dominant over Eb9(#11), Ab Ionian over Eb/Ab, Db Lydian Dominant over Db9(#11), and C Lydian over C(add#11).
The progression in Ex. 13 is called an “equal interval” turnaround, where the interval between the chords is the same in each measure. Here, the interval is a descending major 3rd that creates a I-bVI-IV-bII sequence, played as Cmaj7-Abmaj7-Fmaj7-Dbmaj7, and will resolve a half-step down to Cmaj7 at the top of the form. Since the interval structure and chord type is the same in both measures, it’s easy to plane sets of voicings up or down the neck. I chose to plane up the neck by using G/C to Abmaj13, then C/F to Dbmaj13, resolving on Cmaj7/E.
The line in Ex. 14 was composed by using the notes of the triad for the slash chord and the Lydian mode for the maj13 chords. For G/C, the notes of the G triad (G-B-D) were used to get an angular line that moves to Ab Lydian over Abmaj13. In the next measure, C/F is represented by the notes of the C triad (C-E-G) along with the root note, F. Db Lydian was used over Dbmaj13, finally resolving to C Ionian over Cmaj7/E. Since this chord progression is not considered “functional” and all the chord sounds are essentially the same, you could use Lydian over each chord as a way to tie the sound of the line together. So, use C Lydian, Ab Lydian, F Lydian, Db Lydian, resolving back to C Lydian.
The last example is the “Radiohead” turnaround since it is based off the chord progression from their song “Creep.” This would be a I-III-IV-iv progression, and played Cmaj7-E7-Fmaj7-Fm7. Dressing this one up, I use a couple of voicings that had an hourglass shape, where close intervals were in the middle of the stack.
In Ex. 15 C6/9 moves to E7(#5), then to Fmaj13, to Fm6 and resolving to G/C. Another potential name for the Fmaj13 would be Fmaj7(add6) since the note D is within the first octave. This chord would function the same way, regardless of which name you used.
Soloing over this progression in Ex. 16, I used the C major pentatonic over C6/9, E whole tone over E7(#5), F Lydian over Fmaj13, and F Dorian over Fm6. Again, for G/C, the notes of the G triad were used with the note E, the 3rd of a Cmaj7 chord.
The main thing to remember about the I-VI-ii-V turnaround is that it is very adaptable. If you learn how to use extensions and alterations, chord substitutions, and quality changes, you can create some fairly unique chord progressions. It may seem like there are many different turnarounds, but they’re really just an adaptation of the basic I-VI-ii-V progression.
Regarding other types of turnarounds, see if you can steal a short chord progression from a pop tune and make it work. Or, experiment with other types of intervals that would move the chord changes further apart, or even closer together. Could you create a turnaround that uses all minor seventh chords? There are plenty of crazy ideas out there to work with, and if it sounds good to you, use it!