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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The king of prog rock’s low end discusses his storied career and how he approaches both bass and Chapman Stick, his tenure with King Crimson and Peter Gabriel, his creative relationship with guitarists and drummers, his new album Bringing It Down to the Bass, and, of course, the much-anticipated upcoming BEAT Tour with Adrian Belew, Steve Vai, and Tool’s Danny Carey.
There’s a good reason why Tony Levin has played with many of the world’s most thrillingly creative musicians—a list that includes Peter Gabriel, Robert Fripp, Adrian Belew, Paul Simon, Bill Bruford, Manu Katché, David Torn, Tom Waits, Warren Zevon, Richard Thompson, Allan Holdsworth, David Bowie, Vinnie Colaiuta, Bryan Ferry, and more.
He’s one of them.
In the six decades since Levin graduated from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York, and joined a freaky band led by members of the Mothers of Invention, he has brought his open-minded mastery of the bass and Chapman Stick to hundreds of sessions and thousands of performances, ranging from Simon’s “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” to the magical ’80s incarnation of King Crimson. Even after all of that, the tall, shaven-headed, and prominently mustached Levin insists that “Everything about my playing is evolving. I’m much more a student than a teacher. Also, I’m very lucky to often play with great drummers and guitar players who, sometimes by their work ethic alone, but often by their musicality and talent, inspire me to try to deserve to be in a band with them.”
“The musical inspiration from really special players is what I’m here for, and King Crimson has been an unbelievable experience for me in that sense.”
The feeling is presumedly mutual, at least judging by the signposts along the path he’s taken since studying classical music and jazz. In the early ’70s, he played with Gary Burton and Herbie Mann, and became an in-demand pop and rock session player. (In 1971, he declined John McLaughlin’s invitation to join the Mahavishnu Orchestra, because he’d just taken the Burton gig.) In that decade, he contributed to such important albums as Lou Reed’s Berlin and Alice Cooper’s Welcome to My Nightmare, and cut tracks for Carly Simon, Don McLean, Phoebe Snow, Ringo Starr, Art Garfunkel, and Laura Nyro. He also began his long and still-ongoing association with Peter Gabriel, who’d left Genesis for a solo career and pressed Levin into service for his now-classic debut album.
Say hello to Mr. Natural, Tony’s Ernie Ball Music Man StingRay with most of its finish sanded off, “the way we did with Fender basses in the ’50s and ’60s,” he says.
Photo by Tony Levin and Avraham Bank
Always searching for the ultimate bass sound, Levin was an early adopter of the Music Man StingRay in the mid ’70s, which increased his popularity with studio engineers, who were perpetually on the hunt for more and better lows in their tracks. His distinctive approach, derived from playing upright, also helped, with his authoritative fundamentals, slides and slurs, hammer-ons, and bends bringing character to the basslines he recorded.
Similarly, Levin acquired a Chapman Stick shortly after he learned of its existence, and that bass-guitar hybrid became an important part of his sound on King Crimson’s Discipline album, the 1981 declaration that Robert Fripp’s historic prog-rock project had returned to active duty. Many consider the Fripp-Levin-Bruford-Belew period, and in particular that album plus 1982’s Beat and ’84’s Three of a Perfect Pair, to be King Crimson’s zenith.
Levin’s days with Crimson, which, with a few breaks, extended to the group’s final tour in 2022, along with his tenure with Gabriel are enough to qualify him as prog- or art-rock’s reigning bassist. But there’s more evidence of his right to that crown found in albums by Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe, Yes, the Crimson spin-off ProjeKct One, Liquid Tension Experiment, Steven Wilson, his band Stick Men with Crimson drummer Pat Mastelotto and touch-guitar player Markus Reuter, and his solo recordings.
On September 13, Levin will deliver a new solo album, the voraciously creative Bringing It Down to the Bass. Within, he shatters the genre-barrier, with elements of jazz, rock, blues, classical, and ambient music woven into its colorful fabric. There’s even a barbershop quartet arrangement, “Side B / Turn It Over,” with Levin—who is an exceptional harmony singer—vocalizing with himself. (For hardcore fans, it’s a reminder of his wonderful lead vocal turn on that first Gabriel album, the song “Excuse Me.”) The cast is, of course, stunning: guitar heroes Dominic Miller (from Sting’s band), Steve Hunter (who Levin has collaborated with since they played on Gabriel’s debut), Earl Slick, David Torn, and Fripp; drummers Katché, Jerry Marotta, Colaiuta, Mike Portnoy, Steve Gadd, and Mastelotto; Levin’s older brother Pete and the legendary Larry Fast on keys; and the violinist L. Shankar.
Bringing It Down to the Bass rocks, weirds, and entrances. The ambient piece “Floating in Dark Waters,” with Fripp and Marotta, is beautifully meditative, with Levin’s prayerful, semi-sweet-chocolate bass tones gently singing. “Bungie Bass,” with Torn, is a wild, expressionistic ride—full of playful cat-scratch and hide-and-seek melodies. And “Beyond the Bass Clef,” with Shankar’s sonorous lines in the lead, is a poetic journey through inner space.
“Just think about where Robert Fripp and Adrian Belew are sonically. When you hear them, you know who it is because of the way they sound.”
Something else that’s audible in Levin’s eighth solo album is his sense of joy. It’s long been ingrained in his musical character—audible in his tone and the way he reaches for high notes on bass, and in the melodies and rhythms he taps out on Chapman Stick, and in the driving, rock ’n’ roll pleasure of his album’s duet with Colaiuta, “Uncle Funkster.” It’s also in the bold horn arrangements on the title track, which sounds a bit like the theme for an imaginary ’60s TV detective series, and the glorious thunder of “Road Dogs.”
Joy will be in the house—onstage and in the seats—on the dates of the upcoming BEAT Tour, which ignites in mid September. It reunites Levin and Belew, playing that sacrosanct ’80s Crimson repertoire with new teammates Steve Vai and Tool drummer Danny Carey. It might not be the biggest tour of 2024, but it is one of the most anticipated, and it’s hard to imagine a better rock quartet.
Tony Levin's Bass Gear
Tony Levin onstage with Stick Men—a band named for Tony’s use of the Chapman Stick, of which he was an early adopter, and Markus Reuter’s deployment of touch guitar.
Photo by Mike White
Basses
- Ernie Ball Music Man StingRays (4 and 5 string)
- Ernie Ball Music Man Sabre
- Ernie Ball Music Man StingRay Specials
- Ernie Ball Music Man DarkRay
- Chapman Stick (10- and 12-string instruments)
- NS Design NS Design EU Series Upright bass
Amps
- Ampeg SVT
- Ampeg SVT Plugins
- Various Ampeg combos and cabinets
- Kemper Profiler
Effects
Strings
- Ernie Ball Regular Slinky (.050–1.05)
Returning to the playful, ambitious, and elegant music onDiscipline, Beat, and Three of a PerfectPair is a challenge that Levin embraces. “It’s going to be really exciting and it can go in a whole lot of different ways,” he says, as we speak via Zoom from his home in upstate New York—his recording setup and a flotilla of basses behind him. “I’ve got a huge list of pieces that we had to choose among. Where Steve and Danny are going to take it, I don’t know. Me and Adrian started together playing this music in the ’80s, but I am more than willing to go in different directions. I can’t wait till we rehearse at the end of August.”
Meanwhile, here is our conversation, which ranges from tone to Levin’s choice of instruments to the BEAT Tour, and through the past, present, and future.
Tony, you have a highly personal vocabulary. How did you develop your tone?
I never gave it any thought. It’s only when I’m asked about my playing that I ask my brain, “What in the world is it that I do?” Of course, we all make decisions with every note we play. And the tiniest movement of one’s fingers on the strings up and down, or which part of the fleshy part of your finger you use if you don’t play with a pick, affects it. I haven’t done the analysis. I started on upright and I’m no different than anyone who started on upright. You fashion the sound with your fingers and get as good an instrument as you can.
When I first got an electric bass, it was a Fender Precision. I found it had less latitude for sound than upright. In my opinion, all electric basses have less latitude. They’re going to sound a little bit more like themselves no matter what you do. When I started on electric, I put a little extra effort into making more extreme changes with my fingers in relation to how close to the bridge or neck I played—to try to not make it sound like the upright, but to be able to get the amount of variation that I was used to wanting musically.
As a kid in Rochester, in classical music school, a jazz band came to town. The bass player, Andy Munson, was playing this thing called the Fender bass. I didn’t know what the heck it was. I went up to him and said, “Tell me about that bass you’re playing. It seems to be electric and it sounds pretty good.” He said, “Here’s what you need to do. Go to Dan Armstrong’s in the Village and buy a used one.” There was no such expression as a “vintage” one. He said, “A used one will be $180; a new one would be $220.” I’m talking about in the 1960s. So, I got a used, ’55 Precision, a wonderful instrument, not realizing how lucky I was and how precious that instrument was. Before that, I had played an Ampeg Baby Bass electric, through a flip-top Ampeg B-15 amp, but it didn’t fulfill much of anything for me except you could hear it.
“I have names for all my basses.”
When I was at the Eastman School in Rochester, New York, I auditioned my first year for the Rochester Philharmonic. And the conductor just kept asking me to play louder. I had a nice little Italian bass that sounded beautiful—let’s call it a chamber bass. I think it was three-quarter size. I didn’t get the job, and I got a very large bass that was very loud, but, frankly, sounded pretty good but not as mellow as my other bass. Then, I auditioned and got the job. I had such a large and loud upright, and boy that helped when I started playing jazz gigs.
I probably overcompensated when I switched to the Fender bass and tried to get as many sonic variations as I could get out of it. And without thinking about it, I guess I gravitated towards a lot of slides to try to negate the frets. That’s a good album title: “Negate the Frets.”
Today, I have a number of StingRays and I have a couple of Sabres, which are like the StingRay, but with two pickups. I happened to play the Sabre on Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer,” so for all of his tours since—even though I could play it on a fretless StingRay—I’ve used the Sabre. By the way, I love what Peter does and his new music is extraordinary, but it’s still a hoot to play “Sledgehammer,” even after so many years in concerts.
Another of Tony’s favorite instruments is his Graffiti Bass, shown here with its road case and a pair of his Funk Fingers—an invention suggested by Peter Gabriel that he brought to life with the help of tech Andy Moore.
Photo by Tony Levin and Avraham Bank
Who was in your ear when you were 10 and started playing bass?
My older brother, Pete, was and is my guide. He played classical before I played classical and he played jazz before I played jazz. Pete is a keyboard player now. When I grew up, he was a French horn player. Pete had landed on the wonderful records of Julius Watkins, the jazz French horn player. Julius Watkins played with the same rhythm section on a number of albums, including the bass player Oscar Pettiford. So, I grew up listening to Oscar Pettiford. His playing was fundamental and had just the right notes, and he was melodic when that was called for. In a way, I’m trying to do what I loved about Oscar Pettiford’s playing.
Do you feel like you’ve had any recent epiphanies or revelations?
This week [chuckles]? Seriously, though, there are some songs on my new album where I’m trying different things. For instance, hammer-ons, which is certainly the way I play on the Chapman Stick all the time.... I used the technique on a song called “Bringing It Down to the Bass.” Also, sometimes I play with fingernails and that’s a pretty distinctive sound, and I took one piece and kind of devoted it to a fingernail bass solo in the middle. That allows you to get various overtones from each note. There are also the Funk Fingers I developed years ago—a way of playing the bass with drumsticks attached to my fingers that, technically, can be a tad difficult and interesting. I have a long way to go to get better at that, even though I kind of invented it.
“An instrument that just gives you joy on the low notes is pretty special.”
What led you to the StingRay?
Very interesting story. Joel Di Bartolo and I were friends when I lived in Rochester, and he moved to L.A, and got the gig playing The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson. He befriended Leo Fender when Leo started Music Man, and Joel kept telling me, “You’ve got to try this bass. It’s got more low end. It’s got more of what you want.” And I was not being open-minded. But I was recording a lot in New York and engineers were always wanting more low end. When I finally started showing up with a bass that had it, the StingRay, the engineers were very happy.
The early ones Leo made had maybe too much high end, and would pick up a static electric noise. I had to keep the headphone wire very far away from the bass, or the bass would start picking up the click out of the headphone mix. But eventually those issues were worked out.
Tony Levin has long been a proponent of cutting edge instruments like those developed by Emmett Chapman and Ned Steinberger. Here, Levin plays his NS Design EU Series Upright bass.
Photo by Matt Condon
Let’s talk about Emmett Chapman and the Chapman Stick. How did that association begin?
I used to play the bass with a hammer-on technique on studio sessions—and maybe a little obnoxiously between takes. So, I was known by my studio pals for noodling and playing more than I should. And when Emmett announced that he had this new instrument designed for playing touch-style, simultaneously five or 10 guys that I worked with said, “Oh, you’ve got to check this out.” The next time I was in Los Angeles, I contacted Emmett about buying a Stick from him. I didn’t really want to try it. I said, “Let me buy it.”
The next time I was in L.A., we got together for a lesson, but also to just chat about the instrument and what it could do. And subsequently, Emmett saw me with Peter Gabriel and saw for the first time his instrument with a few thousand folks in the audience. And he was, as you can imagine, very pleased. So, we’re both friends and colleagues, and I think we’ve both learned from each other. I used it for the tour of Peter Gabriel’s first solo album, so that’s ’76.
I went to use it on that album’s sessions, which included Robert Fripp—a guitar player I did not know at the time. I pulled out the Stick to play it on one piece and the producer, Bob Ezrin, said, “Put that thing away. I don’t even want to see it.” So, I did not play the Stick on Peter’s first album. But when we played live, I began learning the Stick better by playing it on the simpler songs. It was a little hard to control at that time, to keep the open strings from ringing in a loud rock context. The instrument really had not been played in a rock context yet. And frankly, the pickups were so active that any amp would pick up footsteps on the stage. And there were plenty of footsteps on the stage with Peter Gabriel running around. So, I had to adjust it for that. And when I shared that information with Emmett, he quickly changed the pickups, and it became an ideal instrument for live shows.
“Imagine a band with Danny DeVito, among others, wearing only a diaper and body painted red, improvising dancing around the stage.”I got it to play as a bass, and what appealed to me was not just the technique that you play it with, but it has a different sound that I envisioned being useful for me in the progressive rock world, which I was becoming more and more involved with—especially with King Crimson. So, by ’81 when I was writing music with King Crimson, the Stick became probably 50 percent of the time the tool that I went to. The tuning in fifths [on the bass side] is very different, being strung backwards from a regular bass. All of that helped me break away from the usual habits I had as a bass player and helped me be a more progressive player, which is what I sensed I needed to be in that context.
Peter Gabriel and his band live at the Bottom Line in New York City on October 4, 1978. At left: Robert Fripp and Tony Levin.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
Since we’re talking about playing percussively—and progressively—let’s talk about the invention of Funk Fingers. You first used those on a Peter Gabriel recording?
Yes and no. In ’85, we recorded Peter’s So album, and one of the pieces on that is called “Big Time.” And I asked, for no particular reason, while we were recording, the drummer, Jerry Marotta, to drum with his drumsticks on the strings of the bass while I fingered with my left hand. Just seemed like a good idea to attack the piece that way. And we had fun. It ended up only being used on the intro to the piece, which, frankly, disappointed me. But it was very cool and very effective.
Fast forward to the next year, when we were touring, and I am practicing in between pieces. I was trying to play with one drumstick in my right hand what Jerry had done with two drumsticks. Of course, I couldn’t do it, but I was trying my best. And Peter—I vividly remember the soundcheck I was practicing at—walked by me and looked at me and he said, “Why don’t you put two drumsticks on your fingers?” So, with that sentence, he invented the Funk Fingers. I turned to Andy Moore, my bass tech at the time. I said, “Andy, can we do that?” The two of us experimented with stretch Velcro and chopping down sticks. If the sticks were too heavy, they would break the string. If they were too light, they would just bounce off. If the Velcro was too tight, my fingers turned purple. If it was too loose, they would go flying into the audience, which happened a lot on that tour. Eventually, we got just the right formula. I then decided to make them myself to try to share them with other bass players to see where it could go. I got tired of making them pretty quickly, and somebody else got interested in making them, which is great. But for years now they haven’t been made, but I’ve had great fun through the years with the Funk Fingers, and I still use them. But how about Peter? Talk about thinking outside of the box. That’s just the perfect example of it. But he’s done that musically, his whole career.
Let’s talk about your new album, Bringing It Down to the Bass. What struck me immediately is how eclectic it is and how wonderful all the playing is. I also enjoyed that you worked in a little barbershop quartet—which made me reflect on how joyful your playing often sounds.
Well, I love hearing that. And I think the album encompasses a lot—some of it serious, but then some of it, especially the photos that go with it, whimsical and humorous. That’s just the way I am. And if it comes out in my music, that’s the way it should be, I think.
This photo was taken before the historic 1981 line-up of King Crimson went onstage at the Savoy in New York City on November 7 of that year. From left to right, that’s Tony Levin, Adrian Belew, Bill Bruford, and Robert Fripp.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
There is such a large cast that file-sharing had to be involved.
Yes, and it came together over a period of years, even though the last three months I’ve been intensely working on finishing it. I have this problem about making a solo album, and it’s a very good problem to have: I get called to tour a lot. I get the opportunity to play live, which is my very favorite thing. I haven’t done the math, but if I’m home two months in a year, then a few of those weeks I’m working on my solo stuff and on other people’s music.
An interesting thing about this album is how it displays your command of so many genres: blues, jazz, rock, prog, vocal quartet.... There’s also a world-class group of guitar players, including Robert Fripp, Earl Slick, David Torn, and Steve Hunter. You played with both Steve and Robert on Peter Gabriel’s debut solo album in 1977—a fruitful recording for you.
The word genre comes up a lot. The genre of this album is bass. It’s all about the bass because the bass player and the sense of bass is consistent. My overall rule for this album was, “Don’t be afraid. Break the rules.” I could give you a number of examples where I did that, and one of them is genre.
Steve and I trade files often, usually for his music, and I heard him right away as the guitar player I would most like to have on “Me and My Axe,” sharing lead with my fretless bass in a kind of duet. And I decided on that track to reunite the original Peter Gabriel band alumni, with Larry Fast on synth and Jerry Marotta on drums. So, to me, that has extra resonance. If you’re lucky and get to make a record the way you want to, there are a lot of distinct joys. As a bass player, the chance to groove with these extraordinary drummers alone is enough to celebrate and give me a whole year of pleasure. And then reassembling the alumni of Peter’s band from way back was another pleasure. [Marotta, Vinny Colaiuta, Mike Portnoy, Jeremy Stacey, Steve Gadd, and Pat Mastelotto all play on the album.]
I especially love what David Torn does on “Bungie Bass.” His playing is so spacious, and the way he uses harmonics and varied tones makes for a real sonic playground.
David Torn and I are sort of neighbors. He lived in Woodstock and I’m nearby, and I lived in Woodstock for a long time. We met when he asked Bill Bruford and I to play on his Cloud About Mercury [1986], when he had the idea of asking two rock guys to come into what would’ve been otherwise a jazz album to see what happens. We’ve done a lot. He was in our band Bruford Levin Upper Extremities. You never know what he’s going to do, but it’s going to be wild.Men in black: This fall’s BEAT Tour players are, left to right, Tony Levin, Steve Vai, Adrian Belew, and Danny Carey, performing the music of King Crimson’s troika of classic ’80s albums.
“Bungie Bass” is also one of the songs on the album where you play cello. Did you study that instrument as well?
Not at all. I own a cello—that’s how I’ll put it. I have it tuned in 4ths, like a bass, and I just kind of make my hands small and pretend it’s a bass, and I’m very comfortable. Oscar Pettiford, the first bass player I really dug—he puts down the bass and he plays the cello for a solo on his records. Ron Carter is also a very good cellist.
Returning to great guitar players, you’re about to revisit your ’80s King Crimson catalog with two of them—Adrian Belew and Steve Vai—for the BEAT Tour, along with Tool drummer Danny Carey. Simply … wow.
So far, we got together to discuss things, and Adrian and Steve got together to discuss guitar. There is a lot of work to do, and Robert Fripp is not there, so Steve has to play what Robert did or change it to be himself. When I’m in a context with the really, really special players, it pushes me to up my game and to try not to settle back into what I played in the ’80s. Although, frankly, I’ve been listening and some of those Stick parts are damn hard. I’ll be a little challenged just to learn what in the world I was doing! But okay—the Stick part is hard, but then add a vocal in a whole different time signature. That’s really tricky.
I loved the music we created for Discipline. It’s been a great thing to be musically inspired by Adrian, Robert, and Bill, and they’ve all changed my playing to some extent. And Pat Mastelotto, who joined the band in ’96—I’ve probably played more shows with Pat than with anybody.
In a way, I’m trying to do what I loved about Oscar Pettiford’s playing.
The musical inspiration from really special players is what I’m here for, and King Crimson has been an unbelievable experience for me in that sense. I had a bittersweet last tour in Japan in 2021, knowing it was the end of that incarnation and maybe any incarnation of King Crimson. I was counting down the shows and knowing this was the end of the many times I’ve played these pieces and it just kind of hit me—I was feeling the spirits of all of the bass players who had been in that band through the years and had inspired me and given me the unusual challenge of playing a part that’s iconic and yet trying to make it my own. When we started doing the classic material, I didn’t want to change it, but I did need to. And that’s a different kind of challenge than just trying to make up your own really good parts to a piece.
"I have this problem about making a solo album, and it’s a very good problem to have: I get called to tour a lot,” Levin says.
Photo by Tony Levin & Avraham Bank
How did you join King Crimson’s Discipline band?
I had toured with Robert in Peter’s band, and then Robert asked me to play on his solo album, [1979’s] Exposure. Which was not a King Crimson album at all, but darn, it sounds like King Crimson to me. And then, I got the call from Robert—not to join King Crimson, but to meet him downtown in New York City and play some music with some other guys. I found, a decade later, that I was being auditioned and passed. So, we started playing and they pulled out “Red,” a piece that I didn’t know. Of course, they all knew it. Maybe Adrian didn’t know it too well, but they wanted to hear how I sounded on that. Fortunately, in those days when I was a lot younger, I could learn things very quickly. They were pleased with what I did and we formed a quartet called Discipline. That was the name of the band. And Adrian and I, the two Americans, were kind of scratching our heads saying, that’s not a great name for a band. Then Robert decided to change the name of the band to King Crimson. So, I joined King Crimson in a backwards way. I joined the band that then became King Crimson because as always, Robert’s sense of what music is or isn’t King Crimson is the sensibility that determines what is King Crimson.
Well, it was a wonderful band, and I feel privileged to have been able to have heard it live as often as I did.
Thank you. And, of course, I was privileged to be in it. In 2000, when King Crimson were about to tour, I was busy on tour and couldn’t do it. Robert said, “Well, we’ll tour without you, and you can consider yourself the fifth man in the group. ” I love his sense of humor. Now people get to see his sense of humor on YouTube and Facebook. But they used to think of him as serious, serious Robert. But we in the band knew that he has quite a sense of humor. So, for a few years, I was the fifth man in a four-man group.
Robert’s sense of what music is or isn’t King Crimson is the sensibility that determines what is King Crimson.
You also played with Allan Holdsworth in the improv band HoBoLeMa, with Terry Bozzio and Pat Mastelotto. Did that band record?
We recorded every night. We formed that band and it was glorious from the first note of the first show. He was such an awesome improviser, unlike anybody else. And we loved it all. But Allan didn’t. He was great about us and very respectful, but he didn’t like his playing on any of it. That’s the built-in thing that he arrived with. We did a few tours, and after almost every show, Terry very enthusiastically said, “We got it. We got it on tape. This is going to be fantastic. Can we please release it? This is an album.” And Alan would say something to the effect of, “Oh no. I hate what I played.” That’s why we never put out an album. It’s an honor to play with him. Very inspiring.
You’ve sort of become, to my thinking, the leading bassist in prog- or art-rock. Was that a conscious choice or circumstances?
I fell into an open doorway. I played with Peter Gabriel because the producer Bob Ezrin thought I played well with Alice Cooper and Lou Reed on his recordings with them, so thought I would be the appropriate kind of bass player for Peter’s new direction. So, I fell into that and met Robert. And then when I played on Robert’s Exposure, that might be the first time I really was fully reacting to that style of music. And then in King Crimson in ’81, I was exposed to three guys who think in different ways musically than most of the guys I had played with, who really don’t want to play anything like the way it’s been played. Just think about where Robert Fripp and Adrian Belew are sonically. When you hear them, you know who it is because of the way they sound. So, thrown in that musical situation, I was given that challenge and went in that direction. I fell through that doorway and very happily.It’s a bird. It’s a plane. No! It’s one of Tony Levin’s Ned Steinberger-designed basses in flight! Levin and Steinberger have a decades-long association.
Photo by Tony Levin & Avraham Bank
I feel you’ve also brought a progressive sensibility to other styles of music as well, like Paul Simon’s, for example. I know when I hear you onStill Crazy After All These Years.
Very interesting process working with Paul, because the way he uses players to get the music that he knows will be right for him is very internal. He’d go up to us one at a time in the studio and play his song on guitar and sing. And with me, he would play it and kind of sing the bass part that he envisioned, which was usually very melodic. And we would quickly come up with a wonderful part that I would’ve never come up with on my own—that was more melodic than I usually played at that time. A good example is “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.” I played, not all roots, but long, high stuff, and at least some of that is based on what Paul sang to me. But then when it goes into the B section, the chorus, that just Mr. Bass Player, down Low.
Well, let’s talk about your gear. Shall we start with strings and work from there?
Well, I am a bass player. I never change my strings [laughs]. I think when I go on tour and I have a tech, which is about one tour out of five, he changes the strengths. And I look at him and I say, “Did you change my strings?’ And he says, “What? I always change them! [laughs].” I use the green Ernie Ball sets.
My go-to bass is a relatively new StingRay Special. They’re made with every element of the StingRay, but lighter weight. For StingRays, they just tweak the output a little bit in the low end in a way that, oh, I care a lot about. And so that’s my go-to. It doesn’t mean that I don’t play the other basses.
I fell into an open doorway. I played with Peter Gabriel because the producer Bob Ezrin thought I played well with Alice Cooper and Lou Reed on his recordings with them, so thought I would be the appropriate kind of bass player for Peter’s new direction.You can see here in the studio, in the assortment I’ve got there next to the recording console, is the bass that I’m using today on a track. I call that bass Mr. Natural [a StingRay Special with most of its body finish removed]. I have names for all my basses. At first, I said, “I don’t care about the lighter weight.” But the first rehearsal I did with it was, like, six hours, and it was great. I didn’t realize how sore my back got. Not from playing a two-hour show, but from a six-hour rehearsal. And I love rehearsing so that’s why I use it. I ordered the bass in yellow to match my Three of Perfect Pair bass. And on tour, it just hit me to sand the paint off the way we did with Fender basses in the ’50s and ’60s. Ultimately, though, I play it because it sounds fantastic.
Eat your heart out Pierre-Auguste Renoir. Here’s Levin and Bank’s take on the famed impressionist’s painting, Reclining Nude on a Couch.
Photo by Tony Levin & Avraham Bank
I play the NS upright electric, by Ned Steinberger, on a lot of records. Bass players will totally relate to this. You just play a low E on it, and everybody lights up. Everybody says, “that’s what I wanted on this piece.” They haven’t heard a part yet. I’ve just played a note. I don’t know what the science is, but it gives you what you want from the low notes on an electric upright bass. And an instrument that just gives you joy on the low notes is pretty special.
The Chapman Stick I have has 12 strings. I’m stuck with the 12-string only because some of the pieces I wrote for Stick Men involve the 12-string. So, I can’t go back to the 10 string, even though I’d kind of like that.
I usually don’t need many pedals for bass, but with the high-end of the Stick, I need a lot. Gradually I’ve gone to the Quad Cortex as my go-to effects pedal. I was using two Kempers and loving them, and I still love their sound and record with them, but the Quad Cortex has a wonderful thing for my playing the Stick—two inputs and two completely separate outputs. This wouldn’t matter to most bass players and guitar players, but the Stick is essentially two instruments in one. You’ve got to either have two completely different chains or one of these multi-units. And this one gives you two completely separate outputs. When I hit one button, suddenly I have different sounds on both the top and the bass end of the Stick.
You just play a low E on it, and everybody lights up. Everybody says, 'that’s what I wanted on this piece.' They haven’t heard a part yet.
I do use other pedals—especially in recording. On tour, it depends on what kind of tour. If it’s the BEAT Tour, I can take a trunk of pedals if I want. But if it’s a Stick Men tour, where I have a maximum weight when we fly or the whole budget of the tour gets affected, you just can’t take much. So multi-effects units are perfect. Same with Levin Brothers—the jazz band where I go easy on the pedals. Darkglass makes two bass preamp pedals that I really love that I rely on for distortion. I have a Music Man bass—the DarkRay—that has one installed in it, that I use with Peter Gabriel.
Live, when I use an amp it’s an Ampeg. I’ve still got my SVT for recording, although now I have SVT plugins, which I love. And when I tour with my jazz band, I take an extraordinarily lightweight 12-inch combo. More and more, it’s about what’s in your monitors and it doesn’t matter what you have onstage. And sometimes you have it miked—maybe for the drummer who wants to feel the low end. When I toured with Seal, that’s the last time I toured with an 8x10, because he wanted to feel the bass.
I‘m a classic science fiction buff, and there’s a great B-movie called The Green Slime, so I need to ask: Where did the name of the first band you joined after music school, Aha, the Attack of the Green Slime Beast, come from?
It was the name of the first band I was in when I moved to New York City, with members or former members of the Mothers of Invention, led by [keyboardist] Don Preston. Billy Mundi was the drummer and Ray Collins the singer. We had an extraordinarily unsuccessful career: one gig. But a lot of rehearsing and offers of record deals, which we turned down. I don’t remember why. I was the new guy in town, so I was going by whatever they said to do. We did one very interesting gig in Philadelphia, and then we went our various musical ways.
Don would have been very aware of that movie. If we weren’t enough weirdness for one gig, Don’s friend, Meredith Monk, and her dance troupe improvised to the whole show on stage with us. And one member of her troupe was a young and out-of-work actor named Danny DeVito. So, imagine a band with Danny DeVito, among others, wearing only a diaper and body painted red, improvising dancing around the stage while Don Preston plays this thing called a synthesizer that nobody had seen, with a Van de Graaff generator on top and a big green translucent dildo. When he pushed a red button, a flashing light would go up through the dildo. There were two people in the audience, because it wasn’t well promoted, to put it mildly, and one of them got intimidated and left. So, somewhere there is the one person who made it through that show. Kidding myself, I like to think it was the right band at the wrong time [laughs].The SM4 Home Recording Microphone is designed to be a versatile, large-diaphragm condenser microphone engineered for at-home and studio recording of both vocals and instruments.
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Premier Guitar contributor Steve Cook demos EMG's Pachyderm Gold Signature Pickups. Explore the signature sound of bassist Les Claypool with this simple pickup upgrade.
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Danelectro Red Hot Longhorn
danelectro.com
Danelectros are go-to instruments for guitarists and bassists out to evoke the effortless, lo-fi cool of the 1960s. And for years, Danelectro’s unconventional styling, inexpensive Masonite-and-poplar body construction, and abundance in secondhand shops made them a favorite of garage musicians—or just those with little cash to spare. As a bonus, the unmistakable twang and clarity of Danelectro’s lipstick pickups made them sound fantastic. But as adventurous-looking as they could be, no Danelectro made as much visual impact, or had a signature sound, quite like the original Longhorn.
The compact, lyre-like body with its long, thin horns and slim headstock were a marked departure from Fenders and the big hollowbody basses that were popular during the 1960s. Not surprisingly, the Longhorn’s cool, punchy, concise tones made it popular among many pros. My first bass hero, Garry Tallent of the E Street Band, to name one, famously played one often during Springsteen’s Born to Run era in the mid 70’s. And no less than Jack Bruce and John Entwistle had turns with Longhorn basses in the mid ’60s.
Though the modern Danelectro company produces vintage-looking and sounding instruments that stick with those familiar, winning formulas, they aren’t afraid to tinker with well-established concepts either. The new Red Hot Longhorn bass isn’t exactly a radical departure from the original Longhorn, but Danelectro uses the shape as a Trojan horse of sorts for exploring a few new twists on the traditional Danelectro design and tone recipe.
"If a Longhorn bass was going to make the scene at the Rainbow Club on Sunset Boulevard, this would be it."
Lipstick Traces
If you’re used to the handsome copper-burst finish that’s synonymous with Longhorns, you’ll be knocked flat by the finish that gives the bass its name. Danelectro has dabbled with flashy finishes in the past, like the sparkle jobs from the ’90s and early 2000s, but this deeper, darker red along with the glossy black looks distinctly ’80s. If a Longhorn bass was going to make the scene at the Rainbow Club on Sunset Boulevard, this would be it. A cream-white binding highlights the contrast between the black and red, and in person, it looks pretty stunning. A single F-hole helps justify Dano’s claim that this is the first semi-hollow Longhorn, though technically, vintage Longhorns with their Masonite-on-pine-frame construction were semi-hollows without soundholes. Danelectro says that the F-hole configuration has a positive effect on the Red Hot’s sustain. That might also be helped by the updated lipstick pickups. Like those on the Longhorn baritone, these otherwise traditional-looking lipsticks are wound for hotter output.
Featherweight Flash
It would be fair to assume that a bass with a body this light would be top heavy. In fact, the Red Hot is well-balanced, and the weight—or lack thereof—astonishes at times. I can see how some of my friends that pull eight-hour shifts on Broadway in Nashville benefit greatly from its feather-like feel. On our review Red Hot, the action was pretty high. And as much as high action is conducive to replicating the feel of a vintage bass, most players will probably prefer less space between the strings and frets. In old-school Dano style, the Longhorn has a rosewood saddle for all four strings, so lowering the entire bridge was the only option for an action fix. Yet as primitive as that solution is, it worked like a charm. The aluminum nut slots (which is obviously much more challenging to alter without the help of a pro) also seemed a little high relative to the fretboard, but did not detract from playability much once I adjusted the bridge.
Bumpin’ and Burpin’
I was impressed with the “burp” and aggressiveness of the Red Hot with both pickups engaged and the tone all the way up. The bass comes from the factory equipped with roundwounds and the zing of those strings registers loud and clear in combined pickup and advanced tone settings. Even fret and hand noises sounded musical, inspiring and fun. That bark and presence isn’t lacking at other settings, though. The growl I heard from the bridge pickup was more toothsome than that from many solidbody basses, and I turned down the tone control frequently in order to tame the bite. Extra bass from an amplifier’s tone stack can be a great balancing factor if you like the basic sound of the bridge pickup alone. But the single pickup still leaves lots of room for nuance. The note volume along the whole length of the fretboard is surprisingly full and even, which compelled me to try out a walking jazz bassline. That’s not generally something I would try with a bridge pickup alone, but it sounded full and even here.
By itself, the neck pickup’s tone is thick and buttery. And it’s in this mode that you perceive the virtues of the semi-hollow construction most. There’s a woody essence in the lower midrange without the unpleasant byproduct of muddiness in the sub-low frequencies that often occurs in basses with the neck pickup located this far forward. When I played the neck pickup with a pick and muted with my palm, I heard the most pleasing, and in some respects, the biggest tones from the Red Hot.
The Verdict
The Red Hot Longhorn is an attractive bass that produces a greater variety of tones than its style suggests. The block at the neck/body joint and the relatively high string height at the nut might take time to get used to if a player’s experience with Dano basses is limited. But the playing experience and tones the Red Hot delivers are often quite unique. Combined with the eye-catching style, it’s a bass that can point a player in fresh creative directions.