Hello, and welcome back to Mod Garage. After we had a general look at electric guitar “tonewood” last month, we will pick up where we left off to see how important wood is for the sound of an electric guitar, and if everything you can hear when playing it unplugged is present in its amplified tone.
I already spoiled the answer in the last part by saying that it’s not the most important factor, and that the correct question to ask is, “How much of what is audible in the unplugged, or primary, sound will be present in the amplified tone?” To be clear, I didn’t say that the wood has no influence on the electrified tone, and that all electric guitars sound the same. To cut to the chase, here is my formula on this, based on proven physics as well as several decades of expertise: The more solidly an electric guitar is built, the less influence its structure has on the amplified tone. We can invert this thinking, too: The more an electric guitar has the qualities of an acoustic guitar, the greater the influence its primary structure will have through an amp.
This is not my original wisdom, but is based on decades of intensive scientific research by Professor Manfred Zollner from the German Regensburg University, which mostly matches my experiences from many years in the business. Professor Zollner developed this headnote approximately 15 years ago, and in my opinion, it’s the closest thing to the truth. His actual theory is that the wooden structure of an electric guitar has close to zero influence on the electrified tone.
Let’s form a few groups according to different construction methods, which can give us some basic guidelines.
Group No. 1: Electric guitars with a set neck and no tremolo
This is the most solidly built family, with guitars like the GibsonLes Paul, SG, LP Junior, etc. and their offshoots from other companies, but also guitars like the PRS McCarty family. Brace yourself: On these guitars, the primary structure has almost no influence on the amplified tone. Yes, mahogany is lightweight, and a flamed maple top looks stunning, but these qualities don’t impact how they sound through a Marshall stack.
Group No. 2: Electric guitars with a set neck and tremolo
The next most densely constructed guitars include the Gibson Les Paul Axcess and Firebird, the Gretsch Jet, the PRS Custom and Standard family, a lot of Ibanez guitars, etc. Here, the body mass does a bit more to the tone; later, we will discover why this is.
Group No. 3: Electric guitars with a bolt-on neck and no tremolo
Here, we have the grandfathers of all electric guitars: the FenderTelecaster and Esquire, but also hardtail Stratocaster models along with the Mustang and Duo Sonic, PRS’ NF53, and many more.
Group No. 4: Electric guitars with a bolt-on neck and tremolo
The classic Fender Stratocaster comes to mind, along with the Jaguar and Jazzmaster, the PRS CE family, and a lot of Gretsch guitars.
Group No. 5: Semi-hollowbody and chambered electric guitars
This collection includes instruments from the first group that lean more towards the construction of an acoustic guitar, with guitars like the Gibson ES-335, Gretsch and PRS semi-hollowbody models, the Fender Thinline Telecaster, Coronado, and Starcaster, and countless other models. Applying the guidelines from above, we also have to differentiate based on set versus bolt-on neck, as well as inclusion of tremolo.
Group No. 6: Hollowbody electric guitars
In this last section, we have the “big boys” that are usually referred to as jazz guitars or archtops, like the Gibson Byrdland, Super 400, L5, the Epiphone Broadway, Ibanez George Benson, etc. These are more or less acoustic guitars with pickups, and compared to all the other categories, their primary construction has the most significant effect on the amplified tone.
So far, I bet a lot of you will be cursing my name. I know that playing and expressing oneself with the guitar are highly emotional things, and I’m not taking exception with this. But you can’t bargain with the hard facts of physics—if you drop a glass of wine, it will hit the floor, not the ceiling, at least on Earth.
Let me explain. First and foremost, woods are for stability, surface feel, and optical appearance on electric guitars. They create a certain feeling, but don’t really change the instrument’s electrified tone. This is the point where we are all humans with emotions, prone to psychoacoustics, conclusions by analogy, and of course, confirmation bias. We see a guitar with a bright maple neck, so we expect a bright tone. We have a dark rosewood or ebony fretboard, so we expect a dark tone. You get the idea.
You all know the saying that the tone is in the fingers, and this hits the nail on the head for electric guitars. The tonal influence of the individual playing style of each guitarist is much more powerful than the subtle differences of wood selection. Playing style is also never perfectly consistent, no matter if you are a beginner or pro player. It’s close to impossible to exactly reproduce picking strength, location, and velocity, and these things alone create much more tonal difference than the wood with which a guitar is built.
Here’s a story to illustrate the point; you may have heard it before. German guitarist Paul Vincent, who passed in 2016, was one of the best guitar players worldwide, and the studio guitarist for Freddie Mercury during his solo phase without Queen. You can hear his playing on Mercury’s Mr. Bad Guy on hits like “Living On My Own” and “I Was Born to Love You.” These hits were recorded in the Musicland Studios in Munich, Vincent’s hometown. In his Rock Guitar Book from 1993, he describes meeting Brian May at Musicland in 1985 during the recording of the Queen single “One Vision.” After Brian finished his overdub, he walked out of the studio to greet Paul, handed his Red Special guitar over to him, and said, “Go ahead, play a little for me, I want to see your left hand vibrato.” Paul was speechless and totally blindsided, but also full of curiosity and respect. He was holding the original Red Special in his hands, plugged into the famous Deacy Amp and everything else May was using in the studio. But when he started playing, he simply sounded like Paul Vincent, and not even close to Brian May, even when hitting some famous Queen licks and riffs.
I think that says it all. Vincent was looking for an escape hatch from this situation, so he handed Red Special back to May, telling him that studio time is expensive and he didn’t want to take up his afternoon. May smiled at him and said, “You are an outstanding player, Paul.”
With that settled, next month, we will start to work on our cheap budget guitar, parsing out what really influences the amplified tone of an electric guitar, step-by-step, so stay tuned!
Crafty use of subtractive equalization can define the old adage “less is more.”
One of the earliest revelations for guitarists learning to record themselves at home is that what sounds good soloed doesn’t always translate well in the mix. Many instinctively reach for EQ with a boost-first mentality—more presence, more warmth, more punch. But a more effective and musical approach often lies in the art of subtraction. When we remove the right things, space emerges for the character of the guitar to shine without fighting for attention. This month, I’m going to give you some EQ techniques to help make your recordings sound professional. Tighten up your belts, the Dojo is now open.
When EQing guitars, especially multiple layers of electric (and/or acoustic) parts, the first step is identifying where frequencies are clashing or clouding the arrangement. That usually means isolating your track and listening closely for signs of muddiness, boxiness, or harshness. These problems tend to gather in generally predictable frequency ranges. For example, mud and boominess often live between 200 and 400 Hz. Boxiness can lurk from 400 to 800 Hz. And the harsh nasal presence that makes a guitar feel brittle or grating usually hovers in the 2.5 to 4 kHz region.
Try this: Temporarily boost an EQ band by +10 dB with a medium Q and sweep through these frequencies until you locate the ugliest resonance(s), then gently reduce it/them with a tighter Q and a lighter touch, often just 2 to 4 dB. You’ll be amazed how the entire performance opens up when you remove the right junk.
Once the trouble frequencies are addressed, EQ becomes a more graceful tool for shaping tone. Subtractive EQ clears the canvas, letting you gently reintroduce body or presence where needed. This is where shelving EQ comes into play. A low shelf can bring warmth or fullness to a guitar that now feels thin from all the midrange cleanup. A modest bump at 80 to 120 Hz—just a dB or two—can fill out the sound, but it’s only effective if you’ve already dealt with masking around 200 to 300 Hz. Likewise, a high shelf can help lift a track into clarity and air, especially if you’ve trimmed that harsh upper-midrange build-up. Once the 2.5 to 4 kHz range has been smoothed out, a high shelf boost from 3 to 6 kHz will add shimmer and definition without aggression.
“Your ears should always be calibrating to the ensemble, not just the isolated signal.”
One of the greatest EQ challenges comes when stacking multiple layers of guitar. While it’s tempting to think that more is more, each additional track adds weight to overlapping frequencies, quickly turning rich textures into a blurry wall of noise. To prevent this, it’s helpful to think of EQ as a way of assigning each part its own lane. Maybe one rhythm track gets a small cut around 300 Hz, while the second has a dip at 500. One lead might have a bit less bite at 4 kHz, while another leans into a little high-end sheen. These are subtle moves, but when layered thoughtfully, they allow the listener to perceive each track distinctly, rather than as a blend of midrange congestion.
All of this assumes you’re frequently toggling between soloed and full-mix listening. It’s easy to over-EQ when listening in isolation, especially with midrange cuts. What feels like a relief to the ear in solo may rob a part of its edge or personality in the context of a full arrangement. A useful rule of thumb in the Dojo is: Solo to find the problem, mix to determine the solution. Your ears should always be calibrating to the ensemble, not just the isolated signal.
For those encountering intermittent harshness—say, a strummed acoustic guitar that only gets brittle during certain attacks—dynamic EQ is an elegant solution. Instead of making a static cut that dulls the track, a dynamic band can be set to tame harsh peaks only when they occur, such as around 3.5 kHz. This preserves the life and detail of the performance while reigning in the discomfort.
Ultimately, EQ should be approached like a sculptor working with stone: The goal is not to pile on more material, but to reveal what’s already there by removing what isn’t serving the final form. By focusing on reduction first, and only adding when it enhances clarity or emotional presence, home recordists can achieve mixes that sound more professional, more intentional, and less fatiguing. Until next month, namaste.
If you’ve never worked on a tube amp, it can be hard to find your way into understanding how they work. Somehow, we create a tiny signal by making metal strings on our guitars oscillate over a magnet wrapped with a coil of wire, and our amp takes that electrical signal and gets it to drive a speaker. (And driving the speaker is basically the opposite of how the signal started: It is a coil of wire moving within a magnet, which drives a speaker cone that moves air.) I’d like to simplify some of the processes that go on in our amps, so even if you’re not an expert, you’ll have some idea of what’s going on.
Let’s look at how tubes work and the role they play in turning our quiet, tiny guitar signals into sound. There are various types of vacuum tubes, but in the guitar amp world, three types are most common: rectifier tubes, preamp tubes, and power amp tubes.
Let’s start with rectifier tubes. As part of an amp’s power supply—the part of the amplifier circuit that makes the voltages the rest of the circuit needs to operate—rectifier tubes help convert, or “rectify,” the AC (alternating current) from the wall into DC (direct current). The amp’s power transformer only runs on AC, so it’s up to the rectifier tube to create DC, which is needed by the other tubes. (The filter capacitors are also part of the power supply, and these are needed to make proper DC from rectified AC, as well as a “choke” transformer.) The tubes that we use in this part of our amp are specialty tubes designed to do this one particular task and are not interchangeable with preamp and power amp tubes.
“The small guitar signal creates electrical movement on the screen of the tube, which causes movement on the plate, which gets significantly amplified due to its high-voltage potential.”
The preamp section’s job is to take the delicate signal from the guitar and amplify it to a level that can drive the output section. This is done in stages because of how small the guitar signal is, which is why we have many 12AX7-type tubes in our amps. Here’s how preamp tubes function:
Typically, V1 (valve 1—this is not a specific part on a schematic in this article but refers to the first tube the guitar signal encounters) will take that delicate guitar signal and amplify it by about 100 times before we do anything with it in the amp. This process repeats in the other preamp tube positions as well. How does a tube make a signal 100 times bigger? The V1 tube has about 300V DC on its plate (and a few volts on the cathode, but I don’t want to get too technical here and explain that—let’s just say that’s part of the operation of the tube). The small guitar signal creates electrical movement on the screen of the tube, which causes movement on the plate, which gets significantly amplified due to its high-voltage potential.
Because these are still small signals, the tubes are small. A 12AX7-type tube has two sections. In this case, V1 can also be used as a second gain stage or the first stage for another channel input of the amp.
Power tubes are bigger. There’s only a single stage inside the glass. Why? Because they do more work. They are the horsepower of the amplifier. They need to drive the output transformer, which pushes that speaker cone to move air. The overall function is the same but with a higher potential. In the power tube’s case, it’s usually 400–500V DC. More voltage means more power available. When we create electrical response on the power tubes with our signal, we get that analog response on the plates. Those plates are connected to an output transformer. The output transformer does what its name states by transforming the signal on the primary side (the power tube side) to what is on the secondary side, which is the speaker.
The power tubes need that high-voltage DC to operate, but a speaker only wants 10–30V AC to rock our world. The output transformer separates the AC guitar signal from the DC power supply. Again, there’s a bit more to this, but the power tubes are coupled to the speaker, driving that speaker and doing the hard work of moving air.
You might not be ready to go repair your amp, but hopefully, you now have a better idea of how your tubes work.
A black-panel Deluxe Reverb and Princeton Reverb with a pair of fine solidbodies.
For those of you in the beginning of your Fender amp journey, there are myriad options and you might be uncertain where to start. I’ll introduce two of the most famous guitar amps on the planet: the Deluxe Reverb and the Princeton Reverb. (If you’re more experienced with Fender amps, see if you agree with my analysis of their qualities and differences.)
The Deluxe Reverb and Princeton Reverb amps were first introduced in Fender’s black-panel era (1964–1968). These amps are still made somewhat close to the originals; modern reissue models are available with either printed circuitboards or more exclusive point-to-point wiring, like their predecessors.
The strengths of both models lie in their simplicity, portability, and the much sought-after ability to break up at moderate volumes. Up to a certain point, they’ll deliver similar clean tones, characterized as the scooped Fender black-panel tone, intended to amplify the guitar as transparently as possible. Both are perfect amps for professionals and hobby players who want a stripped-down, reliable tube amp with only reverb and tremolo.
Both amps have dual 6V6 tubes in a push/pull class AB configuration, but their power amp sections are quite different. The Deluxe Reverb has a larger output transformer, a larger power transformer, higher 6V6 plate voltages, and the more efficient long-tail PI (phase inverter) circuit, versus the Princeton Reverb’s flabby-sounding cathodyne PI. The long-tail PI is widely used across 2-channel 6L6 Fender amps like the Vibrolux, Super, Twin, and Pro—the AB763 circuit amps.
The Deluxe produces 22 watts, and the Princeton a modest 12 to15 watts. Additionally, the Deluxe has a bigger speaker and a larger cabinet. The 1x10" Princeton Reverb is 16" tall, just under 20" wide, and 9 1/2" deep, weighing approximately 34 pounds. The 1x12" Deluxe Reverb is approximately 17 1/2" tall, 24 1/2" wide, and 9 1/2" deep, weighing approximately 42 pounds, and all this contributes to a louder and cleaner tone with more ambience and a bigger low end.
What does this mean? If you are looking for maximum portability and the earliest breakup, opt for the Princeton. In a recording or miked context, you won’t be bothered by its smaller, boxy tone. Plug in your Telecaster and you will be transported directly to Nashville. The Princeton Reverb can even be used with a single 6L6 tube in class A operation for ultra-low power (5 to 7 watts).
On the other hand, the Deluxe sounds slightly bigger on its own at home, in the practice room, and on stages where you need to cut through. It can even take 6L6 tubes for more power and clean headroom (about 30 watts). This 6L6 trick is not possible with the Princeton Reverb. However, the smaller Princeton is still quite capable if we do something with the speaker. It can be much louder if you swap a vintage speaker to a highly efficient modern speaker or, even better, disengage the built-in speaker and use a 1x15" extension cabinet. I love the combination of the Princeton’s early breakup through a big and full speaker cabinet loaded with a 15" Eminence Legend 1518. It’s huge and punchy, but not ear-breaking. Both amps require an 8-ohm speaker impedance, allowing a wide set of extension speakers in the range of 4 to 16 ohms.
The preamp sections of these amps are more similar, but with a few differences. The controls are the same: volume, treble, bass, reverb, tremolo intensity, and tremolo speed. Obviously, the Deluxe Reverb also has a second normal channel without reverb and tremolo. It also lacks the 47 pF bright cap, making it smoother and warmer than the vibrato channel, just like the single-channel Princeton Reverb, which also comes without this bright cap. This explains why many players think the Princeton handles pedals and bright guitars better than the Deluxe. Personally, I never use the normal channel of classic Fender amps other than sometimes routing my reverb return signal into it. That way, I can control the reverb with the normal channel’s volume and EQ knobs for more tonal options, like a dark and long reverb tone. I use a phono/jack adapter plug for this trick. Other than the bright cap, the tone stack is similar in these amps.
While the tremolo controls are the same on these amps, the tremolo circuits are built differently. The Princeton Reverb’s bias tremolo can get really deep, but only if you set the bias correctly, which can be a bit of a hurdle since it lacks an adjustable bias screw. If you struggle with weak tremolo, you can experiment with different 6V6 power tubes, rectifier tubes (either 5U4GB or GZ34, depending on the model), and 12AX7 tremolo/PI tubes (the one closest to the 6V6s). If that doesn’t help, the caps and resistors in the tremolo circuitry must be inspected. With the Deluxe Reverb’s AB763 optoisolator tremolo design, the sound is easier and more consistent.
I hope you are inspired to try out at least one of these legendary amps. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.
Hello, and welcome back to Mod Garage. You asked for it, and Mod Garage delivers. Today, we will start a new little series and play “custom shop on a budget” together. We’ll talk about what is really important for the amplified tone of an electric guitar and prove all of this on the living object. We’re going to take apart a budget electric guitar down to the last screw, and we’ll see what’s possible to make it an excellent sounding guitar, step by step. I encourage you to follow along by getting yourself a similar electric and working in parallel to the column.
For this first installment, let’s have a closer look at the never-dying, snake-oil-drenched urban legends about tonewood on electric guitars and establish some parameters for our experiment. It’s very important to understand that we are talking about tonewood on electric guitars and their amplified tone exclusively; tonewood on acoustic guitars is a completely different thing. The rules for electric guitars are not applicable to acoustic guitars, and vice versa. In general, the whole discussion about tonewood is full of misunderstandings, inaccuracies, conclusions by analogy, biasing, and, of course, marketing bullshit of all kinds. And, sadly, a lot of this has developed into accepted internet knowledge by way of unfounded rumors.
Is the wood of an electric guitar the deciding factor of how it will sound? Or does the wood have no influence on its tone? I submit a resolute “no” to both theses: The truth here is much more complex, and, as usual, lies somewhere in between these two points. So, let’s try to find out exactly where that is!
There is no plant genus or tree called tonewood on this planet. That’s simply a word that’s intended to describe woods used to build instruments of any kind. In the context of stringed instruments, tonewood usually denotes woods that are traditionally used to build guitars. In the case of electric guitars, woods like alder, ash, maple, rosewood, and mahogany fall into this category, most of which have been used since the earliest days of electric guitar building. Let’s take alder and maple, for example. There are more than 40 alder and no less than 150 maple subspecies. Are they all tonewoods or only some of them? If it’s only some, which ones count? Did Leo Fender define what alder, ash, and maple subspecies get ennobled to tonewood? Let’s take a short journey back in time and see what Leo Fender cooked up in the early ’50s at 107 S. Harbor Blvd., Fullerton, California.
For his first electric guitars, Leo Fender used pine for the body (is pine a tonewood as well?) and maple for the neck. He soon switched to ash for the body, but stayed with maple for the neck. Why did Leo Fender choose these woods? Certainly not because of any tonal qualities. Ash and maple are lightweight, strong, easy to work with, and they were available in large quantities for a cheap price at the time. They were the perfect selections for Leo’s mass-production plans. Gibson decided to go with mahogany and maple, but for different reasons that also had little to do with tonal qualities. What exact types of maple, ash, and mahogany were used by Fender and Gibson? Well, nobody knows exactly, and the most likely answer would be: whatever was available cheap and in large quantities. It’s likely that even their wood suppliers didn't know exactly what subtype they were offering! These woods were probably chosen because of structural, optical, and economic reasons, yet they laid the foundation of the tonewood legend in electric guitars.
Interestingly, our bass-playing colleagues seem not to be caught in such paradigms, and all kinds of woods are used to build fantastic sounding electric basses today without the tonewood debate. Try to build a great-sounding electric guitar using cherry, pear, chestnut, oak, or birch; I’d venture that most people will tell you that it doesn’t sound right because it’s not made out of tonewood.
Now that we’ve established what tonewood is, let’s talk about the actual tone of these woods. Here’s a common comparison of ash and alder: In general, ash tends to produce a brighter, more articulate tone with good sustain, while alder is known for its warmer, thicker midrange sound. Ash, especially swamp ash, is often described as having a sweet, open top-end with a slightly scooped midrange. Alder, on the other hand, is perceived as having more pronounced mids and a potentially less defined low end. Sound familiar?
Here again, we have the problem of missing definitions and inaccuracies: Does this mean all kinds of ash and alder sound the same, no matter what subspecies they are? Is there a kind of general ash or alder tone? Assuming we’re talking about electric guitars, what tone are we discussing—the primary tone when strumming an unamplified electric or the amplified tone? Tonal descriptions are usually missing this important information.
“The correct question should be: How much of these tonal differences will be audible in the electrified tone of an electric guitar? Is the amplified tone simply a 1:1 copy of the primary acoustic tone?”
I think we can all agree that using different woods and hardware has an influence on the primary tone of a guitar, no matter if it’s an acoustic or an electric guitar. A cedar soundboard will create a much different tone than spruce or mahogany on an acoustic guitar, and an alder body on a Strat will sound different than ash, maple, or mahogany when playing it unamplified—not to mention the tonal impacts of different types of hardware on the guitar. So, the correct question should be: How much of these tonal differences will be audible in the electrified tone of an electric guitar? Is the amplified tone simply a 1:1 copy of the primary acoustic tone? Well, let’s try to find out.
A common scenario you can observe in guitar shops and on countless YouTube videos is the mandatory “dry test” when checking out a new electric guitar. The electric guitar is played like an acoustic guitar without being plugged into an amp. You can hear a lot of different answers for why such a test is important: You can feel how the wood resonates, what sustain it has, what overall tone it has, how much high-end chime is present, what the attack is like, etc.
Interestingly, all too often, criteria like playability and comfortability, defining how the guitar individually suits you, are omitted. How does the shape of the neck, the size of the frets, and the edge of the fretboard feel? How does the shape of the guitar fit your body when seated and standing? How does it intonate, how is the action, and how heavy is it? All of these factors determine to what degree the guitar will be a part of you, just like buying new jeans.
But what about the countless claims that the elements you hear in the dry test will be heard through the amp, too? Are these overly simplistic conclusions reached by analogy mixed with confirmation bias—an all-too-human reasoning process? Well, we’ll see.
You will have noticed that I haven’t made a single judgement until now; I’m just collecting facts and asking questions, and I encourage you to think and research about all of these things yourself until next month.
That’s when we will continue and finish our journey through the fantastic world of tonewoods for electric guitars, so stay tuned!