Fine-tune your tube amp’s gain structure and headroom by experimenting with preamp and phase-inverter tubes.
Most guitarists who habitually play tube amps understand that, to keep their rigs in optimal shape, it's vital to replace those glowing bottles on a routine basis. Fewer players, however, explore the very real sonic variations that can result from careful and considered tube swapping.
Different brands of the same kind of tube might each sound a little different, but you can achieve more dramatic results by auditioning the several different types of tubes that are compatible in the same preamp-tube sockets and circuit positions. The effects of such thoughtful tweaks reach beyond the realm of tone into the world of gain and headroom. Because those qualities are the central defining characteristics of most guitar amps, even swapping just one crucial preamp tube for a different type can entirely alter the feel and response of your favorite amplifier.
Let's investigate how several different tube types can change your amp's sound and overdrive content when swapped into preamp and phase-inverter positions. Maybe you'll discover a tweak to fine-tune your sound.
Everything to Gain
You may already be familiar with the term "gain staging," a process that controls how the different gain stages within your guitar amp (or pedalboard, in some instances) flow from one into the next. In brief, the amount of gain added to your guitar signal at any stage within the amp's circuit—and the degree to which that is further ramped up or tamped down as it is passed along from stage to stage—is arguably the most significant factor in shaping the character of any classic or modern guitar amp. (For an in-depth look at the subject, read "All the World's a Gain Stage.")
The tube types we'll discuss next can alter your amp's sound and feel because they are your amp's gain stages (albeit ones that are regulated by the circuitry surrounding them). This is where the magic happens. The gain induced by each preamp tube throughout the signal-carrying part of the circuit—along with the resistors and capacitors that enable correct tube operation, and the coupling capacitors that pass the signal from one stage to the next—determines just about every aspect of how an amp "sounds." Which is to say, how the amp translates your guitar pickups' meager electrical signal into that mighty jolt that belts out of the speaker at the other end of all that wire.
The amount of gain by which different tube types inherently increase a given guitar signal helps to lay the foundation for what we call tone: It shapes the ratio of clean to crunch, determines how saturated the signal is (or isn't) with harmonic overtones, and partly governs how hard you can play before your clear and articulate chords and lead lines fold over into delectable, singing overdrive … or possibly dirt and mush. And yes, you can reduce the gain level of any channel in your guitar amp by just turning down the first gain knob (variously labeled volume, gain, drive, etc.), but changing it up via the correct tube swap can alter the nature of that gain stage and your amp's overall dynamic response. The results of this kind of change are often heard as a more all-encompassing alteration of the amp's sonic characteristics, including the degree and onset of distortion.
Here's the cool thing: Most amps that are leaning a little too far one way or the other for your personal liking can be significantly altered by simply changing one of the original preamp tube types in the design for another compatible type. It takes no more effort than pulling out one tube and pushing in the other—plus the four-lattes-worth, about $12 to $15, of cash it costs you to acquire the replacement tube in the first place.
If you're looking to tame a first gain stage that's a little raw and hairy and needs some tightening up, the right 12AT7 might do the trick.
Change Where It Matters
With amps that have just a couple of preamp tubes, it's pretty clear that changing one or both to different types will likely make an impact on your tone. In others—amps with lots of extra tube-driven features, or even classics from the Fender blackface/silverface template with six preamp tubes—you need to know which tubes to replace to most effectively alter the amp's performance.
Since we're talking preamp tubes here (the smaller tubes toward the front of the circuit, rather than the big output tubes near the end of the signal chain), the first tube your guitar signal hits after entering the input jack generally has the biggest impact on the overall character of any amp's sound and playing feel. In amp circles, that's generally referred to as "V1" (for "valve number one," using the British term for "tube"), and it will usually be found hanging from the chassis in a position that is roughly in line with the location of the input jack itself.
For example, consider the typical Fender Deluxe Reverb. If you spin the amp around so you're facing the back panel with the tubes hanging beneath the chassis, V1 is the tube furthest to the right side of the back of the amp. On the other hand, if it's one of many amps based on the Marshall plexi platform—many of which have their chassis mounted tubes-up in the bottom of a head cabinet—V1 will be furthest to your left as you face the amp from behind.
To get the most out of your tube-swapping adventures, it's best to familiarize yourself with your amp's schematic or tube diagram, with reference to the job each tube performs within the circuit. In Marshall-style or Fender tweed-style amps, for example, V1 will form the first gain stage for each of the amp's two channels, so changing it will affect both simultaneously. (A nine-pin tube in the dual-triode family—the common 12AX7, for example—has two individual gain stages within it, each of which can act as an independent "tube" for pre-amplification purposes.) In amps designed on the Fender blackface/silverface template, on the other hand, V1 provides gain stages before and after the tone stage on the same channel, so V1 covers the Normal channel and V2 covers the Vibrato channel.
If you want to more dramatically alter the gain characteristics of modern high-gain amps, you might need to go further and also swap out the next tube in line, if the channel involved uses more than V1 in its gain structure. (To determine this, refer to your amp maker's tube chart or schematic, or contact the company directly.) Also, many amps that use an independent tube to drive the tone stage, or to make up lost gain after the tone stage, can be further tweaked with some attention to that tube, but the results are usually less immediately obvious than those achieved by swapping the first gain stage in the channel.
We'll mostly concentrate on the effects of changing V1 for a different tube type, because that's where most amps reveal their foundations for sound and playing feel. If you'd like to go further, you can use the same guidelines discussed below to swap other tubes, but it gets into a game of revolving variables pretty quickly if you don't go one tube at a time and take good notes along the way.
It's also worth putting some thought into the phase-inverter tube. The phase inverter is the last stage in the amp before the output tubes, and in all amps other than single-ended types with just one output tube (Fender Champ and Vox AC4, for example), this stage splits the signal into two reverse-phase strands to send on to those big bottles for final amplification. The tube in this position is still a preamp tube of the type used in the front end of most amps, but it doesn't affect the tone of the signal passing through it so much as it does the gain. That, however, can still have a significant impact on the way your amp behaves. Why? Different types of compatible phase-inverter tubes can drive the output stage harder or less hard, accordingly. We'll check out the effects of some swaps in this position after looking at the V1 position.
From Headroom to Hot Rod
Though these "12A" preamp tubes look similar, they offer different levels of gain, which means you can substitute one for another to alter your tube amp's tone and response. From left: A 12AX7 (gain factor 100), 12AT7 (gain factor 60), and 12AY7 (gain factor 40).
Photo by Andy Ellis
Let's take a look at what four different compatible, nine-pin, dual-triode preamp tube types can do for the sound and playing feel of your amp when you substitute one for the other. We'll take these from the lowest gain to the highest, although the latter is the tube that most players will remove to begin the swapping process—the 12AX7 (ECC83 in the U.K.). In most situations these four can be used as direct replacements for each other, but I'll mention any caveats if and when they apply.
12AY7 = Gain Factor 40
This tube's gain factor of 40 is the lowest of the bunch, and this might seem dramatic when compared to the 12AX7's gain factor of 100. As a general point of observation, however, you'll really only notice a gradual increase in volume and gain as you jump from one tube to the next, while other aspects of your amp's sound reveal themselves more prominently. Of all the tubes considered here, the 12AY7 (aka 6072) will push your amp's front end the least, but in many cases that's exactly what you want.
This was the original tube in the first gain stage of most Fender tweed amps from the mid 1950s to 1960s—which also makes it the V1 in the countless tweed-inspired amps still made today. Most fans of tweed amps agree this is exactly the tube you want in those circuits, even with higher-gain substitutes more readily available. Tweed-style amps can often sound too ragged and unhinged with a 12AX7 in that socket, with a fizziness or buzziness to the breakup that can be unappealing to some players.
Of all the tubes considered here, the 12AY7 will push your amp's front end the least, but in many cases that's exactly what you want.
Looked at from the reverse perspective—swapping a 12AY7 in place of an original 12AX7—this tube is excellent for taming a harsh preamp stage, tamping down the gain when you just don't need as much firepower as your amp wants to deliver, or removing strident harmonic artifacts from your tone. Gain aside, a good 12AY7 can still sound very full, rich, and well-balanced, and offers a great way to achieve maximum headroom and minimum early-stage fizz from many preamps in other types of amps.
Contemporary makers occasionally recommend 12AY7s in newer, non-tweed-based amps, when this type of sound and performance are desirable. Brian Gerhard of TopHat suggests it as an alternative for the V1 position in his Super Deluxe, Super 33, and the Top Boost channel of the Supreme 16. And while you might not immediately see this as a fit, I even tried one in the lead channel (channel 2) of a Mesa/Boogie Mark Five:35 head with great results, taking its Xtreme setting from heavy rock and metal down into the classic-rock, blues-rock, and garage-rock zones.
Caveat: Some techs will point out that the 12AY7 has a lower plate resistance than the 12AX7 and others in this group, and will therefore draw more plate current through the resistor that couples this tube to the amp's power supply (usually a 100k-ohm resistor). For that reason, some recommend that you should upgrade these plate resistors from the usual 1/2-watt types to larger 1-watt types, to handle the heat generated by the extra current. That said, you can almost certainly substitute a 12AY7 for a 12AX7 in the V1 position of standard guitar amps without experiencing the slightest problem.
Historically, a 7025 was a military-spec version of a 12AX7, built to be more rugged and have a lower noise floor. Modern 7025 and 12AX7 preamp tubes are essentially identical, differing only in their names. Both offer a gain factor of 100.
Photo by Andy Ellis
It's worth noting that the Fender tweed amps famous for their use of these tubes had only 1/2-watt plate resistors in that position, but they also had relatively low plate voltages on their V1 tubes to begin with, so there's generally even less worry about things getting overheated in any amps inspired by the tweed or Marshall JTM45/plexi platform (although these Marshalls substituted an ECC83, the British equivalent of the 12AX7, for the 12AY7 in the first place).
12AT7 = Gain Factor 60
The 12AT7 is probably best known for its use in reverb stages or in the phase inverters of blackface and silverface Fender amps of the '60s and '70s, but it can also be used in the V1 (or equivalent) position in many amps to lower that first stage's gain and thereby achieve more headroom and a tighter overall tone.
Some players find that a 12AT7 yields a slightly dull, cold tone when used in the V1 position, but that conclusion seems to vary from amp to amp and player to player. If you're looking to tame a first gain stage that's a little raw and hairy and needs some tightening up, the right 12AT7 might do the trick. Even though its gain factor of 60 makes it appear 50 percent stronger on paper than a 12AY7, you likely won't hear anything close to "half again as much gain" when substituting an AT for an AY, although you'll notice a pretty dramatic decrease when popping in one of these in place of a hotter 12AX7.
Caveat: The 12AT7 is often set at a slightly different bias level than the other tubes discussed here, so it might not perform optimally in some circuits. But you're unlikely to harm the amp or the tube by trying it out, so if you've got a good spare 12AT7 handy, the best route is to stick it in for a while, play, and see.
5751 = Gain Factor 70
With a gain factor of 70, a 5751 is a popular replacement for a 12AX7, as it reduces the gain of the first preamp stage by around 30 percent compared to a 12AX7, the typical V1 tube. Stevie Ray Vaughan was known to use 5751 preamp tubes to coax a firmer crunch from his vintage Fender amps.
Photo by Andy Ellis
This is one of the most popular subs for the common 12AX7. A 5751 will reduce the gain of your first preamp stage by around 30 percent relative to a 12AX7 originally in that position, which can often be enough to tame a fizzy overdrive tone without sacrificing too much of the amp's overall power and muscularity. Good 5751s are also often just great-sounding tubes in many circuits, delivering so many of the family's desirable sonic characteristics, but with less of the gritty edge and ragged breakup of higher-gain preamp tubes.
This tube has been a favorite of many professional players for just this reason, and was one of the tricks Stevie Ray Vaughan often used to achieve a bolder, firmer breed of crunch from his vintage Fender amps. Dig into any discussion of preamp tube substitutions for the 12AX7, and you'll likely see the 5751 mentioned early on, and confirmed time and again as a popular choice.
Lowering the gain to achieve a better overdrive tone might seem counterintuitive, but doing so will often help you induce less distortion in the early stages of the amp, while passing along a less compressed, more frequency-rich signal to later stages. That, in turn, means you can push the output stage harder to induce a bigger, beefier crunch from those power tubes without passing along the fizziness of an already-distorted preamp tube.
Whether you're playing clean, crunchy, or heavily overdriven sounds, the sonic results of this swap will often yield tighter lows with less farting-out, a somewhat more balanced and less hyped midrange, and highs that refrain from being strident or spikey.
12AX7 = Gain Factor 100
We've now worked our way back to the 12AX7—the baseline for our exploration. Because it's the most common preamp tube type in use, particularly in contemporary guitar amps, the 12AX7 is the little bottle you're likely most familiar with. With a gain factor of 100, it's also the hottest tube in this selection, so most amps that carry one in the V1 position are coming to you at their highest potential gain level.
A 5751 will reduce the gain of your first preamp stage by around 30 percent relative to a 12AX7 originally in that position, which can often be enough to tame a fizzy overdrive tone without sacrificing too much of the amp's overall power and muscularity.
Why would you want less gain in this position? If you're going for all-out metal or shred, chances are you don't, and in such cases a good 12AX7 is likely your best bet. But if you haven't tried such swaps before, you'll probably be surprised by what a tube with a lesser gain factor will do to your amp's response, right off the bat. And even many heavy-rock styles can benefit from a less slamming tube in V1. In high-gain preamp designs, there's usually more than enough gain to be had from lower-gain preamp tubes anyway, and often this comes with the bonus of a sweeter, smoother breakup.
None of which is intended to imply that there's anything wrong with a good 12AX7, and it's the standard for good reason. This tube can sound great kicking off your amp's sonic and gain characteristics, no doubt, but in some circuit designs it can also be associated with a slightly harsh distortion characteristic when pushed hard. In such cases, this can induce a "wasps-in-a-tin-can" lead tone players describe as fizzy or fuzzy. You can ameliorate this effect by tamping down the gain a little with a different type of preamp tube.
Swapping Phase-Inverter Tubes
As mentioned earlier, the phase-inverter (PI) tube doesn't affect the tone of your guitar signal in a conventional tone-shaping manner, but its gain factor does determine how hard it drives the output stage. In addition, the degree to which the PI tube itself distorts while splitting and transferring the signal to the output tubes will contribute to the amp's overall distortion content.
With this in mind, it's not hard to extrapolate from the general preamp information above to guess what these different tube types might do when used in your PI position. Swapping tubes in this stage, however, should generally be done with a little more care and consideration for the intentions of the original design, since amp makers have usually put more thought into phase-inverter design than merely tweaking distortion characteristics. For that reason, it's probably best to pursue nuanced changes here, if at all.
One of the most obvious lessons in what different preamp tube types will do in your PI can be found by simply examining some of the characteristics of classic amps designed with these tube variations, while considering the designers' intentions in using these tubes.
Most players are familiar with the easy crunch and sweet overdrive of the Fender tweed and Marshall JTM45/plexi templates, both of which used 12AX7s (or similar 7025s) in their phase inverters. The preamps in front of these PIs are by no means high-gain, but with the volumes up pretty high, hitting this higher-gain PI tube with a pretty hot signal, these stages are able to work together to get the output tubes cooking pretty well. Fender's early-'60s amps with brown control panels and tan or blonde Tolex covering mostly retained the 12AX7/7025 in the PI, but when Leo and crew further refined these designs to achieve improved headroom and a cleaner overall response, they loaded this position with a more restrained 12AT7 tube instead. That change is an important part of the blackface sound, which is partly characterized by the later onset of distortion—an effect this cooler tube contributes to.
An intriguing alternative for the phase-inverter tube, the 12AU7—aka ECC82 in the U.K. and Europe—has a gain factor of only 19. The 12AU7 is extremely resistant to distortion in the PI stage, which is why, circa 1963, JMI included a 12AU7 in their new 100-watt Vox AC100. The goal was to give the Beatles enough clean power to be heard over thousands of screaming fans.
Photo by Andy Ellis
Taking things even further in this direction, when JMI wanted to create the cleanest, most powerful guitar amp imaginable in the early '60s—specifically to help the Beatles be heard over hordes of screaming fans in larger and larger venues—they used a 12AU7 in the 100-watt AC100. With an amplification factor of only 19, making it a lower-gain tube than any of the four we've discussed so far, the 12AU7 was extremely resistant to distortion in the PI stage. It also helped maintain high headroom in the four EL34s in the output stage. (Note that the 12AU7 is not a great substitute in the preamp positions in most guitar amps, even when you really want to tamp things down. It will "work" in most of the same circuits, but this tube prefers some circuit tweaks to optimize its performance, and usually just doesn't sound very good in V1.)
One challenge regarding PI swaps is that it's often difficult for the typical guitarist, and even one with some tube-swapping experience, to gauge the tonal and gain-induced sonic effects of any given PI tube. If you've already tried a 5751 or a 12AY7 in your V1 position, however, and you feel the output stage is still being driven a little too hard at your desired volume settings—which might be heard as a "splatty" or harsh response from smaller output tubes in particular, like EL84s or 6V6s—it might be worth trying a 5751 or a 12AT7 in place of the 12AX7 that was (most likely) originally there. You can go even further if this doesn't do it, by popping in a 12AY7. Note that alongside the increased headroom, you'll experience a drop in output level when swapping PIs down the gain range, so you'll likely find yourself adjusting volume controls accordingly.
This is a technique that some contemporary amp makers use as part of their overall design. For many years, Dr. Z used a 5751 in the PI in several amps—notably the Carmen Ghia model—to avoid hitting the EL84s too hard and inducing a ragged response. (Although more recently, Dr. Z has sometimes changed up that formula.)
Going in the other direction, if you play a Fender blackface or silverface amp, or one derived from that design, and would like to drive the output stage harder, try replacing its original-spec 12AT7 with a 12AX7 to hear whether that does the trick. If that takes it too far, try a 5751, which should give you something in between the two.
Technically, some of these tubes—even if they are "compatible" in the broader sense—are not designed to work optimally in PIs that were devised with another type in mind. But as with our discussions of the 12AY7 and 12AT7 in the preamp section, in most cases they will work fine, and should at least give you a taste of what such PI swaps might do for your amp's overall performance.
Hearing Is Believing
Driving the Output Stage
The first four clips demonstrate swapping V1 (the first preamp tube) in a Fender '62 Princeton Chris Stapleton Edition (a reissue of the brownface Princeton 6G2 circuit) from the original 12AX7 (Clip 1) to progressively lower-gain tubes: a 5751 (Clip 2), 12AT7 (Clip 3), and 12AY7 (Clip 4). You can hear how the gain content decreases with each swap, and if the alteration from one to the next might seem subtle, jump from the original 12AX7 to the 12AY7 to hear how dramatic the overall spread can be. Both the amp's volume and tone controls are set to 7 out of 10.
Preamp-Generated Overdrive
This time the same tubes—12AX7 (Clip 5), 5751 (Clip 6), 12AT7 (Clip 7), and 12AY7 (Clip 8)—are swapped in and out of the lead channel of a Marshall modded-plexi-style Friedman Small Box 50-watt head driving a 4x12 cab with Celestion Greenbacks. These soundclips demonstrate how the gain characteristics change in an amp where the overdrive is generated more in the preamp. The Friedman's gain knob is at 6 out of 10, with the master set to 4 out of 10.
Swapping the Phase Inverter
In these four soundclips, the Friedman Small Box's phase inverter is swapped from a 12AX7 (Clip 9) to a 5751 (Clip 10), 12AT7 (Clip 11), and 12AY7 (Clip 12). To help us hear how the progressive decrease in PI-tube gain eases up on the output stage, I'm using the amp's rhythm channel (gain at 4, master at 5).
Mix ’n’ Match
For Clip 13, I return to the Friedman's lead channel and Les Paul's bridge pickup. To hear the change in drive characteristics with preamp-generated gain into the lower-gain phase-inverter tube, I've used a 12AX7 in the V1 position and a 12AY7 for the PI.
[Updated 8/23/21]
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With the release of his latest solo EP, Vertiginous Canyons, the former Police guitarist shares in-depth on his personal journey from Romani caravan to becoming a peer of Eric Clapton’s to shaping a modern dialect of jazz-rock innovation.
This past June, onstage at a handsomely restored vaudeville theater in Washington, D.C., the guitarist and composer Andy Summers made a small but spirited crowd laugh. Hard.
Summers, who rose to fame in the late 1970s as one third of the new-wave phenomenon the Police, told many stories and landed many punchlines. There was the episode in which he and John Belushi partook of psychedelics in Bali, and the time he got kind of hustled by a striking, guitar-playing Long Neck Karen villager in Thailand. He recounted a gut-busting tale of taking a few too many sleeping pills on a trip to South America. With perfectly British dryness and timing, he improvised an aside about living near Arnold Schwarzenegger in Los Angeles, and how he just had to kick the Terminator’s ass.
Out of the Shadows
“I think it’s turning into a standup routine, basically,” Summers said recently over Zoom. He was being self-effacing. Mostly, this one-man multimedia show, entitled “The Cracked Lens + A Missing String,” allows Summers to reflect on enduring passions with sincerity, by “integrating these two media I’ve been working on for so long”: music, of course, and art photography, where his work combines painterly composition with street-level intimacy and the global-citizen mission of Nat Geo.
Behind projections of his photos, and between the storytelling and odd video clip, he gave a two-hour recital of solo guitar music. Summers played a new yellow Powers Electric A-Type guitar, and began his show by telling his audience how thrilled he was with it. (Summers has accrued around 200 guitars, many of them given to him, and maintains that he’s “definitely a player,” not a collector.)
Summers spent a significant part of his 20s studying classical music, originally inspired by Julian Bream. Now, onstage in his one-man show, it's clearly time to reflect on his past.
Summers began touring “The Cracked Lens” before the pandemic—the final show prior to shutdown took place at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, in 2019—and picked it up last year. It’s evolved, he says, through improvisation and trial and error, following a process much like one he’d put into motion for any band or project.
In D.C., the setlist was both surprising and deeply satisfying. Newer solo music like “Metal Dog” came off as delightfully arch and abstract, a reminder that Summers hit the Billboard albums chart with Robert Fripp, with 1982’s I Advance Masked. A sterling chord-melody arrangement of Thelonious Monk’s “’Round Midnight” spoke to the lifelong impact American jazz has had on the guitarist. A winsome mini-set of bossa nova, including “Manhã de Carnaval,” Luiz Bonfá’s theme to the film Black Orpheus, illustrated Summers’ devotion to both the cinema and the music of Brazil.
And yes, there was Police material, too, which Summers reharmonized and rearranged and used as vessels for longform improvisation. Atop programmed backing tracks, he treated songs like “Tea in the Sahara,” “Roxanne,” “Spirits in the Material World,” and “Message in a Bottle” as if they were his beloved jazz standards, drawing agile lines in and around the harmony, using pop hits as a launch pad for wending single-note narratives. In a small theater, it felt as if you were eavesdropping on Summers, whiling away an afternoon in his home studio. An excitable woman behind me couldn’t help but try and banter with him as he stalked the stage; the guy to my right played air drums. This was thrilling—especially if you were a Police fan whose context for these songs was sold-out arenas.
A New Installment
To combine music and imagery was also the impetus for Vertiginous Canyons, Summers’ recent solo EP. Commissioned as an accent to the guitarist’s fifth photo book, A Series of Glances, the project features eight spontaneously composed instrumental pieces of pop-song length. Its sparkling, layered, and looped soundscapes serve as Zen-like mood music for viewing the photographs. By design, Summers improvised Vertiginous Canyons in a single afternoon without too much fuss, using mostly his early ’60s Strat. “This was drone-like, ambient, atmosphere stuff that I thought was enough,” Summers explains. “Because I suppose you could get into a place, let’s say, where the photography and the music are fighting each other.
“One of the cardinal rules of scoring films, which I’ve done many,” he adds, “is don’t get in the way of the movie.”
On Vertiginous Canyons, listeners will hear influences from Eno to Hendrix to Bill Frisell.
As with Summers’ solo show, the music can stand alone. In many ways, Vertiginous Canyons also comes off like Eno or classical minimalism or the edgiest strain of what can be called “new age”—an engaging yet accessible entryway to experimental music. And as with any effective musical abstraction, what you’ve heard in your life is what you’ll hear in Vertiginous Canyons. The twinkling, fluttering phrases of “Blossom” bring to mind Bill Frisell. “Translucent” and “Village” summon up Glenn Branca’s guitar armies in their quietest moments, ramping up toward euphoria. “Blur” is a far-out exercise in Hendrix-style backwards soloing; “Into the Blue” is Pink Floyd meets Popol Vuh.
Greatly moved by Julian Bream as a young man, Summers spent a sizable chunk of his 20s immersed in classical guitar in California, as hard rock and the singer-songwriters ascended. When I ask him if those studies informed Vertiginous Canyons, his response is rapid-fire. “Definitely. I mean, I spent years doing nothing but classical music, classical guitar,” he says. “It’s very important information that I took in … and it stayed with me the rest of my life.
“So my ears are wide open.... I’m a sophisticated harmonic player, and it’s also informed by classical music. I’m sort of all-’round educated in the ways you can do music.”
Summer Reflections
To let an artist’s age guide your judgment of them is unfair. But in Summers’ case, it’s essential to understanding how and why he became such a fascinating guitarist, one whose whip-smart, cross-cultural approach overhauled the prevailing notion of what rock-guitar heroics could be in the late 1970s and early ’80s.
He was born on the last day of 1942, “a kid from the English countryside,” he says. His father was in the Royal Air Force; his mother supported the war effort working in a bomb factory. Alongside Django Reinhardt, he’s on the short list of guitar idols who spent their earliest days in a Romani caravan, which his father bought in the face of a housing shortage. In terms of rock generations, think about it: Jimi Hendrix was born in November of ’42, Keith Richards in ’43, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page in ’44, Pete Townshend and Eric Clapton in ’45. Summers debuted the cinematic, reggae-soaked sound that made him famous on the Police’s Outlandos d’Amour, in 1978, as the punk explosion gave way to post-punk and new wave. But his contemporaries are the British bluesmen who were architects of the psychedelic era and won over the baby boomers.
Andy Summers' Gear
When Summers, pictured here performing with the Police in 1982, began developing his blues chops, he blended in complex chords and jazz phrasing.
Photo by Frank White
Guitars
For touring:
- Fender Custom Shop Stratocaster
- Powers Electric A-Type
Amps
- Fender Twin with Fender Special Design Speakers
- Fractal Axe-Fx III
- Bob Bradshaw 100-watt head
- Roland JC-120
- Various Mesa/Boogie heads, cabinets and power amps
Effects
Current Pedaltrain pedalboard includes these effects, among many others:
- TC Electronic SCF Gold
- Electro-Harmonix Micro POG
- DigiTech Whammy
- Klon Centaur
- TC Electronic Brainwaves
- MXR Carbon Copy
- Electro-Harmonix Freeze
- Paul Trombetta Design Rotobone
- TC Electronic Dark Matter
- Mad Professor Golden Cello
Picks & Strings
- Dunlop Andy Summers Custom 2.0 mm Picks
- D’Addario Strings, mostly .010–.046
The electric-blues revivalism that his peers favored was a scene with which Summers engaged mostly by circumstance. In some capacity he was immersed in it, gigging and recording with hot R&B acts of Swinging Sixties London. But as a developing guitarist, he also transcended its stylistic boundaries, and he ultimately missed out on the wildly lucrative parts of it, after it’d evolved from nightclub entertainment to chart-topping, festival-headlining pop.
“[We’re talking about] real modern electric-guitar history,” Summers says, “because I was really pretty close with Clapton. We all knew each other. There were about five or six of us, and we all played at one club [the Flamingo, in London].
“I watched Eric develop, and he had this mission to play the blues … and he ripped off some great blues solos,” Summers adds, with a mischievous chuckle. “I had grown up with different kinds of music in those formative [teenage] years, when you’re taking it all in and trying to be able to do it.”
So much has been written about how the ’60s British-guitar titans tapped into early rock ’n’ roll influences and Chicago blues, rescuing the latter from obscurity in its country of origin. But it’s important to remember the profound impact that midcentury modern jazz had on culturally curious young Brits; in fact, the moniker “mods”—that clothes-obsessed cult that gave us the Who—began as “modernists,” as in devotees of modern jazz, R&B, soul, and ska.
Before meeting Sting (left) and forming the Police, Andy Summers (right) was close friends with Eric Clapton and once jammed with Jimi Hendrix.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
Summers was hooked. Guitarists Wes Montgomery, Jimmy Raney, Kenny Burrell and Grant Green ranked among his favorites, alongside Sonny Rollins. Rather than sticking to 12-bar patterns, Summers shedded on complex chord sequences and jazz phrasing, logging “thousands of hours of listening, trying to get it. But that’s where the feel of the time comes from, which is the most important element.”
“Eric and I talked about it,” he continues, “and I was in a different place. I don’t think we really had arguments about it, but he was absolutely a disciple of the blues, where I was more into other things.” Summers loved the fleet, chromatic lines of bop, and classical guitar, and African and Indian music. He recalls transcribing Ravi Shankar.
“So I felt like I very much had my own path, and it wasn’t the Eric Clapton path. I was aware of all that, but Eric was deeply into B.B. King — gave me his B.B. King record, actually—Live at the Regal, told me to check it out. So I did listen to it, and yeah, okay, I get it. But my head was elsewhere.” (During that period, Summers also sold Clapton a ’58 Les Paul, after Slowhand’s 1960 model was stolen. “It was guitar craziness,” Summers says. “I really anguished over selling my Les Paul, but I just wasn’t into it. I think there was something wrong with the pickup—at least I thought there was, in my sort of naivety at that time.”)
Nor was Summers’ path the Hendrix path. Because of his friendship with the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s drummer Mitch Mitchell, Summers once jammed in the late ’60s with Jimi. “A quiet guy with a very loud guitar. And he could play the shit out of the guitar,” Summers laughs. “He was definitely sort of a force of nature. You’d feel it.” At an L.A. studio where the Jimi Hendrix Experience was in session, Summers began playing with Mitchell on a break. But “Jimi just couldn’t stay away from the music,” Summers recalls. So Hendrix picked up a bass to anchor Summers’ guitar, until Jimi asked to trade.
“I think of it almost as a sort of a comic moment,” Summers reflects today. “Jimi had come into the scene and … didn’t really play like anyone else. I mean, he played Jimi Hendrix … incredible, but I didn’t really want to play like that. I’ve got to find my own thing. It was very imperative to me not to be yet another Hendrix copier. And I think it’s what he would have appreciated, too.”
Although the first album by the Police was released in late 1978, Summers already had an extensive catalog of recordings with Eric Burdon, Kevin Ayers, Kevin Coyne, Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band, and Joan Armatrading before “Roxanne” alerted the world that a new kind of pop group was arriving.
To hear Summers on pre-Police recordings is intriguing; even on straightforward forms, his good taste and sense of harmony present a shrewd, knowing alternative to his peers. Seek out the 1965 LP It Should’ve Been Me, by Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band: On a take of Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City,” Summers applies the single-note harmonic finesse of Grant Green to barroom British R&B. (It was Green’s Gibson ES-330, a surprising instrument for a jazz picker at the time, that inspired Summers to pick up an ES-335 after his ES-175 was stolen.) A few years later, as part of Eric Burdon’s New Animals, Summers covered Traffic’s “Coloured Rain,” going long on a fuzztone solo that fits the psychedelic bill while also telling a story with precision and patience.
Summers’ ship came in nearly a decade later, after he’d returned to England from California and met drummer Stewart Copeland and a singer and bass player, Gordon Sumner, who went by “Sting.” They were bright, dexterous, and culturally well-versed, with backgrounds in prog and jazz. “I think we had a credo,” Summers says, “and it was spoken out loud: We don’t want to sound like anybody else.
“I found I could talk to Sting and say, ‘I want to play this kind of altered chord here. What do you think?’ He could sing right through anything. He had the ears to be able to sing it like a jazz singer. Not that we were trying to lay ‘We’re really jazzers’ on the public. We were trying to present ourselves as a rock band with songs. But the information that we were putting into those rock-song arrangements was different.”
Summers in a late ’80s promo photo, near the start of his solo-recording career.
For Summers, that meant matching the musicianship he’d started earning as a teenager on jazz bandstands with the au courant sounds of post-punk and reggae, filtered through emergent sonic technology. With his heavily modded 1961 Tele and custom Pete Cornish pedalboard, he offered chord sequences and lines that have challenged and educated generations of practicing guitarists brought up on blues-rock technique. Alongside his deft use of open space, he was that rarest rock guitarist who paid serious mind to chord voicings. “My job was to turn the chords into something more unusual,” Summers says, “to have more unusual guitar parts. For instance, something like ‘Walking on the Moon,’ I put in a Dm11 chord, with reverb and a beautiful chorus sound. So it’s got the 11th on top, and immediately it grasps your ear. It’s like the signature of the song was that chord.”
“So my ears are wide open.... I’m a sophisticated harmonic player, and it’s also informed by classical music. I’m sort of all-’round educated in the ways you can do music.”
Of course, no other Summers guitar part or Police song made bigger waves than 1983’s “Every Breath You Take.” Influenced by Bartók’s “44 Duos for Two Violins,” Summers crafted a repeating figure that underlined Sting’s standard pop-song structure while avoiding conventional triadic harmony. (Losing the third from tired rock chords was Summers’ not-so-secret weapon.) “It gave it that haunting quality that made the whole track come to life,” Summers says, “because otherwise, I think we would have dumped the song. It wasn’t one of our favorites at all.”
The Police last performed on their historic reunion tour of 2007 to ’08, and their relationship today is mostly business. “We’re not hanging out with each other,” Summers says. “We’re all in touch through headquarters.” One thing they’ve had to agree on this year is a Super Deluxe reissue, toasting the 40th anniversary of the Synchronicity album, which provides new context that might safely be called revelatory. Among the new box set’s many previously unreleased goodies is Sting’s original demo for “Every Breath You Take,” weighed down with synth keyboards that pile on the sentimentality and pin the track squarely to the 1980s. (Unlike so much ’80s pop-rock, the Police’s music has aged well.) “You can see the transformation,” says Summers.
“Every Breath You Take” became a global smash that ranks among pop’s most successful songs, a feather in the cap of the band that owned the late ’70s and ’80s. Consider this: At a time when his psych-era peers were considered middle-aged Flower Power relics, Summers was leaping around onstage like a bleached-blond atom and representing pop rock’s bleeding edge on MTV. Now, at 81, he’s found a way to forge ahead and, in some fashion, improve on the past.
Call The Police (Andy Summers / João Barone / Rodrigo Santos) - Synchronicity II (ensaio/rehearsal)
With bandmates João Barone and Rodrigo Santos, of Police tribute band Call the Police, Summers displays the adept riffage that brought him to the big stages and helped solidify his rock legacy.
Leveling Up
When we connect on a followup call in mid July, Summers is in Brazil, about to embark on a South American tour with his trio, Call the Police. This tribute project of a sort features two celebrated Brazilian rockers, bassist-vocalist Rodrigo Santos and drummer João Barone, and plays hits-filled live sets to packed houses. “It’s sort of enhanced, because it gets looser. It’s a bit uptight with those other guys I play with,” says Summers.
With regard to those other guys, that uptightness had much to do with the punk and new-wave era that bore the Police. The relationship between punk and the band was complicated. Somehow, they managed to use the movement’s greatest lessons—in energy, creative bravery, and concise songcraft—without pandering to its musical primitivism. Summers’ reputation amongst guitarists rested in the minimalist intelligence of his decision-making; you kind of understood he could play anything, but he was mature enough not to. “I didn’t feel the need to crush everybody with every guitar part,” he says.
“It was more like a guitar solo is supposed to be a mark of the old guard. You weren’t supposed to be able to play; it was really that dumb.”
Nevertheless, he believes that punk’s principle of non-musicianship kept him from exploring the songs to their fullest. “I think I should have played more solos than I was given the space to do,” he says. “It pisses me off actually, because this came more from Stewart. When we started the band in the thick of the hardcore-punk scene, it was more like a guitar solo is supposed to be a mark of the old guard. You weren’t supposed to be able to play; it was really that dumb.”
“I was a virtuoso player,” he adds, “so it was very frustrating for me. Later, when we did sort of open it up, it really got more exciting. The fact that I could play as well as I did, I found it was a bit threatening. Because the highlight in a performance of a song … would be the guitar solo.”
As in “The Cracked Lens + A Missing String,” Summers can stretch out in Call the Police to his heart’s content. At long last. “It’s very improvised,” he says, “and they’re up to the level where they can do that. They go with me. It’s how it should always have been.”
The Warg is a modern revamp of the Ace Tone “Fuzz Master” FM-3, designed to offer uniquely aggressive high-gain options.
"Despite its feral exterior, the Warg is refined under the hood, with several quality-of-life improvements, like silent soft true-bypass switching, top-mounted jacks, high-end German-made hardware and premium internal components."
Features:
- EQ profile switch toggling between the scooped wall of fuzz tones of the original circuit, and a flat profile with a fuller and punchier midrange
- Versatile tone control and broad gain range allows for anything from chunky riffage to searing leads
- Silent soft touch switching system via an internal relay
- Art by the talented Jordan from Pine-Box Customs
Like all Evil Eye FX pedals, the Warg features a lifetime warranty and is hand-built one-at-a-time in Philadelphia, PA.
Street price of $149.
Available now at www.evileyefx.com, or through any of our fine retailers.
Evil Eye FX is a joint venture from childhood friends and bandmates Sean and Ben, building their brand around their love of DnD and other tabletop RPGs, video games and fantasy. In 2019, the pair began modding BOSS pedals to meet the needs of their band, and quickly fell in love with the craft. In 2023, they founded Evil Eye FX with the vision of providing unique handmade pedals at working musician-accessible prices.
Check out Jackson Brooksby’s look at the history of the FM-3 and demo of the Warg.
Throughout 2024, Taylor Guitars is celebrating its 50th anniversary. This is not just a milestone birthday, but a tribute to the innovative spirit that has always driven the company forward.
American Dreamers
n 1974, Bob Taylor and Kurt Listug, two ambitious guitar enthusiasts from San Diego, embarked on a journey that would transform the world of acoustic guitars. They met at a guitar-making shop called the American Dream, and their passion led to the founding of Taylor Guitars.
The journey was challenging, and Bob and Kurt had a lot to learn. “Things were hard for a really long time,” Kurt recalls. “We had to learn everything. How to build guitars. How to sell guitars. How to build a business.”
Relentless Innnovation
Despite the steep learning curve, innovation was a core value from the beginning. In 1976, Bob Taylor introduced an early version of Taylor’s soon-to-be-famous slim-profile, bolt-on guitar necks. This design was a departure from the bulky neck profiles common at the time and made neck resets easier.
Musicians were impressed by the slender neck profile and low action, making Taylor’s guitars remarkably easy to play. Notable artists such as Neil Young, Prince, Dan Crary, and Leo Kottke have played Taylor guitars, contributing to their reputation.
Taylor was also the first acoustic guitar company to adopt computer-numerical-controlled (CNC) mills, introducing these machines in 1990 for precise cutting, pocketing, and shaping of complex guitar components.
The Birth of the Grand Auditorium
In 1994, Taylor introduced the Grand Auditorium, a body shape with refined dimensions between a Dreadnought and Taylor’s small-bodied Grand Concert. This versatile acoustic voice offered remarkable balance across the tonal spectrum, suitable for strumming, picking, and fingerstyle playing.
The Grand Auditorium’s medium-sized body redefined the acoustic guitar to better meet the needs of modern players. Its versatility made it a popular choice among session musicians and gigging players, becoming Taylor’s best-selling body shape.
To celebrate their 50th anniversary, Taylor is releasing a collection of limited-edition guitars that highlight the best from their line over the past five decades.
The all-purpose Grand Auditorium takes center stage in this commemorative collection.
Several models are now available at authorized Taylor dealers, including the 50th Anniversary Builder’s Edition 814ce LTD, 314ce LTD, and AD14ce-SB LTD.
Builder's Edition 814ce LTD
The 50th Anniversary Builder’s Edition 814ce LTD is an ultra-refined version of the popular Builder’s Edition 814ce (released in 2023). It retains comfort-enhancing elements from the original, such as a beveled armrest, beveled cutaway, chamfered edges, and a Curve Wing bridge. A solid sinker redwood top and solid Indian rosewood body offer a harmonious blend of rich lows, sparkling highs, bold projection, and dynamic range. Features include an abalone rosette, mother-of-pearl inlays, maple binding, maple purfling, and Gotoh 510 tuners.
Street Price: $4,999.
314ce LTD
One of the best-selling U.S.-made acoustic guitars, Taylor’s 314ce gets a premium upgrade with the 50th Anniversary 314ce LTD. Taylor’s special roasting process has been applied to the solid Sitka spruce top, offering aged-in depth and sweetness from day one, along with enhanced soundboard stability and responsiveness. Paired with solid sapele back and sides, this guitar delivers a rich and versatile sonic profile with Taylor’s signature warmth, clarity, and balance. Eye-catching aesthetic touches include a tobacco shaded edgeburst and a bold firestripe faux-tortoise pickguard.
Street Price: $2,799.
AD14ce-SB LTD
The 50th Anniversary AD14ce-SB LTD combines workhorse versatility with neo-vintage aesthetics. Featuring a Sitka spruce top and walnut body, it offers a pronounced midrange with a balanced blend of warm lows and clear highs, ideal for fingerpicking and strumming. This model harks back to Taylor’s early guitars, many of which were built in the shop where Bob and Kurt met.
Street Price: $1,999.
All three Grand Auditoriums feature V-Class bracing, a groundbreaking sonic “engine” developed by Andy Powers, Taylor’s Chief Guitar Designer (and President and CEO). Andy, who joined the team in 2011, ensures that innovation continues to be a central focus.
Each guitar in the collection includes celebratory appointments, such as a commemorative 50th Anniversary label, ebony bridge pins with gold acrylic dots, and gold tuning machines and buttons.
You can explore Taylor’s full 50th Anniversary Collection of guitars here. All models are available exclusively at authorized dealers.
Plus, check out Taylor’s 50th Anniversary Timeline to learn more about the history of innovation and some of the amazing artists who have played their guitars over the past five decades.
Our columnist makes an argument against the usefulness of tap tempo footswitches. Should we really be bothering with them?
The ability to tap in a tempo on pedals is a fairly new concept, especially compared to the amount of time that stompboxes have existed in our world. I would venture to guess that this is due in part to the availability of, and need for, digital ICs. Then, being able to code them and apply them to effects circuits appropriately.
Piece of cake! … If you’re good at baking cake. This process isn’t exactly easy to implement, but these days, I feel like some players are almost expecting this modern commodity—to the point where a great delay pedal might be overlooked due to not having tap tempo.
Setting aside the history and design applications, I’ve been pondering if tap tempo even makes sense or is achievable in a band context. For this thought experiment, I’d like to run through a few scenarios, while also shedding light on a few software/hardware aspects for you to consider. To put it plainly, “Why would you need tap tempo on a pedal?” The most compelling argument I’ve thought of is the “band” aspect: being part of a band where the rhythm section has laid down the tempo and you’d like to add delay to the song. Now, if you set the knobs on your delay pedal and started playing to that tempo, your bandmates could join along with your delay line acting as the group’s metronome. However, in this scenario, you didn’t start the tempo. That’s no problem! You’ve got a footswitch on your delay that allows you to tap your foot to the beat of the drummer and you’ll be all set! But will you?
Let’s assume, for argument’s sake, that the drummer is playing to a click track at 120 bpm. Your foot starts tapping along and you press that magical tap footswitch on your favorite delay three to six times. Boom! Now you’ve set the delay line to 120 bpm. But what are the chances that you tapped 120 exactly? Is it likely that you tapped in 122 bpm? Or 121.3 bpm? Absolutely. This discrepancy may not be very noticeable for a couple bars, but every subsequent bar you play will start to become more noticeable. So what do you do? You can keep tapping in the tempo to the best of your ability every few bars. Seems cumbersome given that you still have to play the guitar parts and focus on other things that are inherently involved in a band setting.
Pulling the curtain back for a second here, let’s call the part of the pedal that handles the tap tempo “the brain.” The brain of the delay sees you pressing the tap footswitch multiple times and processes this in a couple ways (that I’m aware of). One, it measures the distance between all the consecutive taps and spits out an average. Two, it takes the last two distances in the string of taps and makes that the bpm. That’s not even going into whether the brain is floating point (121.3 bpm) or fixed point (121.32 bpm).
“You’ve got a footswitch on your delay that allows you to tap your foot to the beat of the drummer and you’ll be all set! But will you?”
Your drummer is still waiting for you to get the tempo dialed in. So what can you try next? Well, if your delay pedal has an insert jack for tap tempo, we can try to connect something like the Disaster Area SMARTClock. The tap footswitch on it won’t help here. It’ll be the same as the bpm discrepancy we discussed previously. However, there’s an encoder knob that allows you to scroll through the output tempo in bpm or millisecond increments. Yes! Not all is lost! You just have to make sure to sync it up exactly on the downbeat of the tempo—crap!
Another more intricate and exact option would be to have the drummer’s click track send a MIDI signal to your SMARTClock that then connects to your delay. At this point, I’d change my question to, “Is this level of tap tempo necessary?” Perhaps if you’re the Edge and/or the song is predicated on the delay.
If you’re adding a lead part to a song and the delay isn’t exactly “on” with the bpm, I would argue that it can stand out better, be more easily heard, and be more interesting. I would also argue that an amplitude-style tremolo makes more sense to require exact bpm. I’m thinking about the Smiths’ “How Soon is Now?”
Tap-tempo options on modulation have been fun and we’re seeing more of it nowadays, but we’ve been playing and listening to the Phase 90 for decades without needing tap. Ultimately, if having certain options inspires you and brings you joy, go for it! Enjoy! But I’d ask you, “Did you actually tap in the correct bpm?” and “Did it matter?”