Drew Berlin, left, and Alexander Dumble, right, first met in the early ’70s through luthier Jim Foote. “Within an hour or so, I went and got one of my amps from home, and he modded it for me. And that started the relationship,” remembers Berlin.
The mystery stems from how Mr. Dumble kept a tight-knit circle of friends he trusted with his amplifiers. That’s why, when he passed in 2022, many wondered what would become of his builds, designs, and company. Fortunately, Dumble had a plan and entrusted the keys to his kingdom to two of his closest friends: Drew Berlin and Matt Swanson.
Judging by Berlin’s résumé, the brand is in good hands. An early adopter of the amplifiers as a professional guitarist, he even helped Dumble voice many of them. But beyond the Dumble sphere, he is a titan of the vintage guitar gear community. As one half of the famed “Burst Brothers,” he was key in shaping Guitar Center’s early vintage program and still deals in some of history’s most priceless, sought-after, and collectible guitars and amps.
Berlin’s connection to Dumble was far more personal. From the day they first met until Dumble’s passing, their friendship centered on caring for each other, whether that meant amp modifications or healthcare. Berlin was a constant presence.
“I even had a deal with my wife where, if I wasn’t home by midnight, she’d call Mr. Dumble,” he said with a chuckle. “He was so charming. He’d sweet-talk her: ‘Oh yes, Diane. Drew’s here, and we’re getting a lot done. He’s really helping, so I’ll need him a bit longer.’ And she’d say, ‘Okay.’ [laughs] That went on for 20 years.”
Here’s “Woody,” a Dumble Special that was often used to “audition” potential customers. It’s a single-channel design that has beautiful, smooth compression. And like many of Dumble’s amp designs, there’s nowhere to hide.
At 74, Berlin’s love and devotion to Dumble and his amps remain unwavering. While many are lucky to glimpse one in person, he owns several, still gigging them regularly. More crucially, he and Swanson own the brand’s name and trademark, a job he takes very seriously setting up the Dumble Preservation Society to safeguard everything, service existing Dumble amplifiers, and, though he didn’t know it at the time, build new ones.
But before anyone questions his motives, it’s vital to understand where Berlin is coming from. His passion for the amps and profound devotion to his friend and the legacy he left was even visible over our video call from his California recording studio. Every decision he makes balances protecting the legacy with navigating the future, and is always guided by the question, “What would Mr. Dumble have wanted?”
Thankfully, if anyone can answer that, it’s Berlin. And he was generous enough to share why that is with us.
How did you and Mr. Dumble first meet?
I knew about Dumble and the tone in the early ’70s, and I started becoming more and more familiar with it, of course, through Jackson Browne, David Lindley, and Stevie Ray Vaughan. Because of that, and being that I was “the vintage guy,” a mutual friend, Jim Foote, thought that it would be interesting for Mr. Dumble to meet me.
He set up an appointment, and Dumble came in with a small Special called “Woody,” which we actually just displayed at NAMM. I plugged into the amp and started playing, and we started talking. Within an hour or so, I went and got one of my amps from home, and he modded it for me. And that started the relationship.
It began with gear, but it seems your friendship grew into something much deeper.
You know, it absolutely did. He was brilliant, and we had a lot in common beyond music. So, I started trying to be there for him as much as possible, sometimes like eight or 10 hours at a time, day after day after day.
Pretty soon, it was hard for him to get around, so I found a vehicle for him and was able to help him out. I felt really honored to be able to do that, because I was getting such great advice from him, and he was really intelligent on so many levels. My family even did a lot of outings together where we included him as part of the family. He loved my children, so they grew up knowing him as Uncle Alexander.
Given your close connection to both the man and his amplifiers, what would you say defines the “magic” of his amplifiers?
He liked to say that the frequencies were enhanced, and there were more highs, more lows, more mids. It was a blossoming of frequencies. Most of his amps were touch-sensitive, so if you dug in harder, it would change the tone. You could express more, and notes would do different things.
But as far as for me, it's more than just something that you hear. When you're playing it, the expression that you're able to create, it's something you feel in your chest, in your heart. And I like that they never hurt. Some amp tones are irritating and hurt your ears, especially if it's too loud. Dumbles never did. The louder, the better.
At first glance, this would appear to be a Special, but in 1989 Dumble modified it to be a 150-watt Steel String Singer for Stevie Ray Vaughan while his SSS was in for repairs.
Players often point to the Steel String Singer’s cleans and the Overdrive Special’s distortion. Did Dumble approach those as separate designs, or did he see a unifying thread in his creations?
It was very important for him to be really happy with the way the amp sounded in the clean, lush mode before you kick in the overdrive.
The way he explained it, it starts in the power section of an amplifier. It needs to be clean, powerful, and warm. Then you get a really warm, clean, lush sound and add the overdrive section to that. Getting that right is more challenging than the overdrive section. The overdrive was a balance of how much crunch you wanted and how much sustain. So that was secondary.
There are rumors of the incredible time he took building each amp and how particular he was about every detail. Are they true?
Yes. And he liked to do everything himself. He never let anyone even touch a build that he was working on. I understand now more than I did, as far as how difficult and how time-consuming that was.
He would change out 20, 30, 40, or 50 parts on an amp. It would take forever. And then after he finally came up with the right combination, the artists would come over and play it. If it wasn’t quite what they wanted, he’d go back to the drawing board. And it took several tries, in some cases, to get the amp exactly where the artist and Mr. Dumble both agreed was the right sound.
Then he’d have to make sure that it was roadworthy before he would send it out on the road.
“Some amp tones are irritating and hurt your ears, especially if it's too loud. Dumbles never did. The louder, the better.”
How did he sustain that level of commitment and detail throughout his career?
Well, the amps were so complex, there were so many stages, and there’s so many different variances that it did become overwhelming towards the end of his life. He stopped making Steel String Singers and Overdrive Reverbs a long time ago because they were too much work. There were 11 Steel String Singers, and I think 12 Overdrive Reverbs were made. But he stuck with the Overdrive Specials. He had some health issues on and off through the years, so he did the best he could.
Did you and Dumble ever discuss your role in the future of his brand?
Well, we talked about it. My partner, Matt Swanson, and I were left to protect Dumble, his legacy, and his intellectual property. And a lot of people showed interest in wanting to take the Dumble name. The trademark was expiring and we had to act.
That’s when we started the Dumble Preservation Society. We offer amp service with the right schematics and parts. We have two techs. One was a close friend of Dumble’s that he personally approved, and the other is incredibly passionate and skilled. Since Dumble passed, we’ve serviced over 50 of his amps.
Matt Swanson (left) and Drew Berlin set up the Dumble Preservation Society to safeguard the brand, service existing Dumble amplifiers, and, though they didn’t know it at the time, build new ones.
Was your initial focus just to maintain the amps he’d already built?
That, and honoring his legacy. There’s so much he created that you hear all the time on records, in movies, on the radio. His sound is everywhere. It’s important for people to understand what he did. The Preservation Society stems from that: keeping awareness of his tone and his genius, servicing amps, and secondarily, building them.
What led you to start building new Dumble amps?About six to eight months into his passing, we found out that in order to keep the trademark, we had to actually manufacture and sell something. That’s when I made the decision. It wasn’t about profit. It was either do it ourselves or let someone else take it. He left us in charge for a reason, and he trusted our judgment.
Who’s building the new amps?
There are two guys, who don't want recognition. They don’t think it’s important, and I respect that. One is someone I’ve known and trusted for 35 years. He’s an incredible technician who was very close to Dumble. He told me he had promised Dumble he wouldn’t use any of the knowledge Dumble had shared with him to build amps. I said, “I understand that, but would you rather have people who didn’t know Dumble, weren’t connected to him, and aren’t trying to preserve his legacy do this? Or would you rather help us do what’s necessary?” He agreed.
Another is a friend who I’ve known for at least 20 to 25 years. He’s an amp repair tech who’s incredibly knowledgeable and passionate about Dumble amps. When things needed to be done and Dumble couldn’t do them himself, this was one of the only guys he ever trusted with anything.
You’ve mentioned several close associates deeply connected to and influenced by Dumble. It’s like he was building his company the whole time.
You’re right. He kind of was. I don’t think it was chance that he put us together.
I had been taking care of him for years, and he and Matt became great friends. One day, Dumble pulled him and me aside and said, “Drew, I really appreciate everything you’ve done, but I think moving forward, you’re going to need Matt’s help.”
I think he understood that we would need to work together to keep his legacy alive. I’m really grateful because I couldn’t have accomplished a lot without Matt. Together, we’ve kept the Dumble name alive and treasured, and that’s what we wanted to do.
One of Dumble’s biggest supporters was Carlos Santana, who owned several Dumble amps over the years.
With the new amps now emerging, what can players anticipate from this next chapter?
I wish I could answer that, but I’m not sure where we’re going in the future or how we’re doing it. I can tell you, the few that we’ve made were very time consuming, as if Mr. Dumble did it himself: hand-cutting the boards, everything done by hand, the parts being as close as possible to what Mr. Dumble was using. We’re trying to get the sound as close as possible, to where you don’t just hear it, you feel it.
Right now, it’s just a handful of players, the Dumble family, in a way. I helped screen people for Mr. Dumble that I thought were great players and great people, people worthy of his amps. It’s still got to be like that. So, right now, we’re working with a few of Mr. Dumble’s favorite players, giving them some amplifiers and trying to tweak them the way he would have.
Are you adhering closely to Dumble’s original designs with these new builds?
We’re not trying to reinvent the wheel right now. We’re happy if we can get our amps sounding really close to what Mr. Dumble did. We're not trying to enhance or come up with new ideas for them, at least not at this point.
For those who’ve played the new amps, what’s been their reaction so far?
Well, the first one we did has already been on a couple of sessions. It went to a really talented pro player, and we’ve heard nothing but good things. And, a couple of weeks ago, I had a session where I brought one of the amps we had at NAMM. I have several Dumbles I use, and I kind of forgot that it wasn’t one of mine.
It’s exciting to have people playing them, wanting them, and wanting to take them on the road and record with them. Seeing guys I really respect, players, producers, and people making records really like it gives me confidence. The magic that Mr. Dumble had, his ears, his musical talent, his experience in electronics, I don’t see anyone else having that combination.
You stayed out of the design and building process during his lifetime. How do you think that shapes your perspective for what you’re doing now?
Now that we’ve done this, I feel like maybe it would have been better for him if I had pushed a little harder to let people help him when he was alive. He just wanted to do everything himself. I really appreciate that about him, but I never pushed him to say, “Let me help you.” I helped him in other ways, but I never got involved in building amps or letting others help him.
As both a fan and a friend, where do you hope to see the Dumble brand head in the future?
I wish I could give you an exact response, but I don’t know fully right now. This is still new for me, and I’m not sure where it’s going or how I’m going to feel about it.
I do know that as long as the brand is respected, I’ll be okay with it. If people could understand that Dumble did this from his heart. He had the magic to give people something to create with, and that’s what he lived for. He wanted to give artists a tool to help them become better musicians. As long as I can help carry that forward, I feel like I’m doing something useful.
Rafiq Bhatia’s guitar is a Flip Scipio Flippercaster with vintage Teisco and DeArmond pickups and has a strikingly original voice, even without effects or processing.
“Where [neuroscience and economics] intersect is the science of decision making,” explains Bhatia. Back when he was a new student at Oberlin College, “the lab that I was the most interested in being a part of was focused on decision making under various levels of risk and uncertainty, and trying to pick apart aspects of what happens in the brain before cognition kicks in. What are the precognitive aspects of decision making, and do they predict in any way the decisions that you will actually make?
“And that, I think, is part of the same underlying spirit of inquiry that making music, and especially improvised music with other people, is born of,” he continues. “You’re in these situations where there is uncertainty and there is also risk—and if there’s not enough risk, then it’s not that compelling.”
Bhatia’s latest solo release—his first in five years—is the EP Each Dream, A Melting Door, made in collaboration with pianist Chris Pattishall. The duo improvise their way through the five-track record, unwinding an extended impressionistic world wherein dreamlike piano underscores a range of guitar tones that glimmer in an abstract light. It’s clear that Bhatia has no intention of conveying a traditional sonic image of a guitar, instead preferring to manipulate the instrument as a device for painting colors of sound.
Bhatia’s collaborator on his new EP is pianist and composer Chris Pattishall, at left.
Photo by Ebru Yildiz
Of course, before even getting into the methods of how he achieves those sounds, Bhatia says, “I think it’s less important how I get the sounds out of the guitar than the reasons why I might choose to go looking for them. And the way I get them out of the guitar today might be drastically different than the way I get them out of the guitar tomorrow. I care deeply about the sounds that are made, but I’m so not about the perception that you have to acquire all these ‘things’ to make it.”
His prized 6-string, the Flippercaster, was designed by the reclusive-yet-storied luthier Flip Scipio, who’s built and worked on guitars and basses for Paul McCartney, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, and many others. After coming to recognize Scipio’s trademark on builds he came across in various New York studios, Bhatia sought him out in an effort he compares to the search for the legendary swordsmith, Hattori Hanzō, in Kill Bill. “He’s the nicest dude ever; it just took me a while to find him. But if you go visit him, he’ll make you either an amazing AeroPress coffee or a mug of smoky lapsang tea and then sit and talk with you,” Bhatia adds, smiling.
The guitar is equipped with vintage Teisco and DeArmond pickups wired to a blend knob in place of a switch, which Bhatia loves. “I usually don’t want half and half; I want a little bit of one and mostly all of the other. And to me it’s very dependent on what the room sounds like and what musical context I’m in,” he explains. The Flippercaster goes into a small pedalboard, the brain of which is a custom Eventide H90. Bhatia collaborated with the pedal manufacturer on the development of the device’s design.
The duo improvise their way through the five-track record, unwinding an extended impressionistic world wherein dreamlike piano underscores a range of guitar tones that glimmer in an abstract light.
“I was really excited,” Bhatia shares. “I was like, ‘Can you make it switch other pedals in and out of the chain like one of those pedalboard controllers? And let’s say I’m using one of your reverbs, but I want to put distortion on it. Can you make it only affect the wet signal?’ I thought they’d maybe do 10 percent of what I asked, and they did basically all of it,” he concludes, laughing.
Aside from his expression and volume pedals, his pedalboard is otherwise made up of a Klon KTR and a ZVEX Fat Fuzz Factory, the latter of which he has particular fun with. “I’m very jealous of saxophone players because they have breath,” he prefaces. “But what I’ve found is that if you play in such a way where you flirt with the edge of the [Fat Fuzz Factory’s built-in] gate, you can get the ends of notes to crackle and decay, almost like when you hear a saxophone player breathe out at the end of the note.”
His pedalboard then goes through a Universal Audio Apollo Twin MkII interface, which connects to Ableton Live on his MacBook Pro. Bhatia then uses two MIDI controllers—one on the floor with a digital display, and one with knobs that he controls with his left hand—that are both color-coded to match the lanes of his session in the DAW. “I can then grab these little bits of things that I’m playing, and bring them in and out and manipulate them while I’m also playing the guitar and generating other ones. I’m excited about it because it’s a process that is helping me erase the line between what I’ve been doing on the guitar and what I’ve been doing away from the guitar. I feel like I’m getting a little bit closer to where I can play, and the sound is saying who I am.”
Rafiq Bhatia’s Gear
Filmmaker David Lynch has been a powerful influence on Bhatia—a cover of “The Voice of Love,” from Lynch’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, appears at the end of Each Dream, A Melting Door—as have a number of hip-hop producers and jazz musicians.
Photo by John Klukas
Guitars
- 2018 Flip Scipio Flippercaster with vintage Teisco and DeArmond pickups
Amps
Live:
- Strymon Iridium (with replaced IRs and EQ tweaks) > Telefunken TDA-2 DI > Universal Audio Apollo Twin MkII > MacBook Pro running Ableton Live > FOH
Studio:
- Swart Atomic Space Tone Pro
- Anderson custom 1x12
- Swart Space Tone Atomic Jr.
Effects
- Ableton Live controlled by Morningstar MC6 PRO and DJ TechTools Midi Fighter Twister
- Eventide H90
- ZVEX Fat Fuzz Factory
- Klon KTR Overdrive
- Lehle Dual Expression
- Sound Sculpture Volcano Volume
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario NYXL Balanced Tension (.011–.050)
- Bluebird 1.5 mm custom picks, handmade from vintage Galalith poker chips
Filmmaker David Lynch has been a powerful influence on Bhatia—a cover of “The Voice of Love,” from Lynch’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, appears at the end of Each Dream, A Melting Door—as have a number of hip-hop producers and jazz musicians. Bhatia shares, “If you listen to Madlib beats, sometimes he’s doing a lot and it’s a million different small elements that have been collaged together, but other times it’s just a sample that he flipped and he didn’t change anything except for the loop point. But whether it’s something he made while fussing over all these little ingredients, or it’s just something he looped, you hear two seconds of it and it’s like, ‘Oh, that’s Madlib.’”
He mentions how that effect similarly belongs to icons such as Thelonious Monk and Jimi Hendrix. “Those are all the heroes, and they say something that’s so personal and honest to who they are and their experience that right away, you just know [snaps fingers]—it’s them. To me it sounds like honesty, and it sounds like an expression in many cases of hybridity.
“I was in class in 9th grade when the planes hit the Twin Towers, and it was on our school news channel,” he continues, emphasizing the discomfort it created for him as someone of Muslim origin, which drew unwanted speculation from his non-Muslim peers. “That was the backdrop to how I got into playing the guitar and listening to music. So, when I would hear folks who seemed to be able to take all these different aspects of who they were and what their experience was and distill it into a way of communicating through sound, that was really inspiring. It just felt like therapy to engage in trying to figure out how to do that.”
For the release of his last solo album, Breaking English, Bhatia performs here with a trio, showcasing his uniquely creative approach on the instrument in a more traditional context.