
Image 1
Let's look at the wiring and innards of our project guitar and make some swaps before we age them.
Hello and welcome back to Mod Garage. This month we'll continue with our aging series that began in May 2020 ["DIY Relic'ing: Break the Shine"]. Let's take a closer look at the electronics of our Harley Benton DC-Junior guitar, which is a copy of a Gibson Les Paul Junior double-cut, and consider some part swaps before we keep relic'ing. If you need a refresher, we covered aging of the pickup in the last part of this series ["Mod Garage: DIY Relic'ing—Aging a P-90 Pickup"].
When doing aging work to the body and the neck of this guitar (which we'll cover in a later part of this series), it's important to remove everything from the guitar that's removable, so I took out all of the electronics. Taking a closer look at the removed guts, I found two metric standard (24 mm) sized pots from the Alpha company: a 500k linear pot for the volume and a 500k audio pot for tone with a 0.022 uF polyester film cap attached to it, all connected with plastic-coated shielded wire. I also found a small-sized budget output jack, connected with plastic-coated shielded wire.
The circuit of the guitar was wired in the typical "modern" style, and you can take a look at it on the website for Roswell, which is the company that makes the P-90 pickup on this guitar.
While the overall quality of the electronics isn't bad, there's still some headroom that could be added to enhance everything and put it a little closer to the vintage Les Paul Junior tone we're going for. To spruce up usability, here is my list of electronics and optional mods for tweaking this guitar. You can see a photo of the "guts" in Image 1.
I've known players who've gotten serious cuts on their hands from these. To avoid this, I prefer blunt-tip pointers with rounded tips and minimized risk.
1. Pots
Using two 500k pots follows the original formula of the Les Paul Junior, but using a linear volume pot in a passive guitar circuit doesn't make any sense. It should have two audio pots for much better usability, preferably with a 60:40 or at least 70:30 taper. In the last part of this series on aging the pickup, we discussed the stock pickup's treble response.
If you decide to keep the stock pickup like me, it's a good idea to use a mixed configuration with a 250k audio volume and 500k audio tone pot to get the best of both worlds. The 250k pot will smooth the high-end a little bit, and, as a positive side effect, the sweep control is much better compared to a 500k pot with the same taper—the nature of the passive beast. I decided to use two U.S. inch-measurement military-grade audio pots with a 60:40 taper: 250k for volume and 500k for tone.
To make these pots fit, you'll have to slightly enlarge the metric holes in the guitar. You can easily do this with a reamer or a simple half-round file. Because it's only a smidge, you should stay away from any other method! To minimize the risk of damaging the wood, don't use a drill press with a super sharp milling drill bit, etc.
2. Tone Caps
While 0.022 uF is the quasi-standard for single-coil pickups and the correct value if you want to stay as close as possible to a Les Paul Junior (0.02 uF), I decided to change the tone cap and convert the tone control into a warmth control—something we've covered in Mod Garage before. I decided to use a NOS military-grade 3300 pF paper-in-oil cap on this guitar, which will add some oomph to the tone. With the extremely low capacitance of the cap, it'll be possible to fine-tune the high-end and treble response of the pickup very precisely. If you want super dark jazzy tones, you should stay with the 0.022 uF value. This is a wide field to experiment with if you're inclined. Gibson also used paper-in-oil tone caps in their early Juniors—the famous Sprague "Black Beauty" caps.
3. Wire
While plastic-coated wire works, I decided to use the vintage stuff from the '50s, just like in the original guitars: cloth-covered wire.
The original vintage wire was AWG22 7-strand, tinned copper, consisting of seven individually tinned and twisted copper strands, with a woven Celanese overwrap, followed by a waxed cotton overbraid. Such wires are available as reissues from several companies. I also decided to skip the plastic-coated wire from the volume pot to the output jack, like in the original wiring, using shielded braided wire. The length of this wire is very short, so there's not much chance for hum and noise to creep in. If you want to stay as close as possible to the original, use cloth wire and shielded braided wire for connecting the output jack.
4. Output Jack and Wiring
The quality of the stock mini output jack is very decent, but upgrading it to a full-sized version is a good idea in terms of reliability and longevity.
The early Juniors were set up with '50s wiring, which is part of their special tone, and different from the modern-wiring style our Harley Benton came with. Because I will have to rewire everything already when I put this guitar back together, I decided to convert it to the traditional '50s wiring as shown in Fig. 1. This is also why I decided not to use an additional treble-bleed network on the volume pot. Usually, the treble response is perfect the way it is with traditional '50s wiring when rolling back the volume.
5. Knobs
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Using U.S. inch pots, the stock metric knobs will not fit anymore, so you'll need new knobs for the guitar. Taking a closer look at the stock knobs shows that Harley Benton uses the right and historically correct knobs (black "top hats" with bright numbers), but the size of the numbers is not correct (too big), and the printed numbers are pure white. The numbers on vintage guitar knobs usually turn a yellowish color over the years—something that's difficult (but not impossible) to mimic when you have knobs with pure white printing. So, I decided to get a new pair of knobs that fits U.S. inch pots and has the yellowish discolored embossed numbers in the correct size. You can clearly see the difference between the two knobs in Image 2. The stock knobs are made with modern plastics while the new knobs use vintage material from the '50s: fully tinted cellulose acetate butyrate (CAB for short). Besides the different look, the feel is also different to the touch.
6. Pointers
The guitar comes stock without any pointers, but, for a more vintage look, I decided to add them. Take care to get pointers with the right hole for your pots (metric or U.S. inch). Enlarging holes that are too small is not a fun project. Vintage correct are nickel pointers with 90-degree pointed arrowhead tips. Personally, I don't like the very sharp tips of these pointers because the risk of injury is high. I've known players who've gotten serious cuts on their hands from these. To avoid this, I prefer blunt-tip pointers with rounded tips and minimized risk to hurt you.
7. Jack Plate
Gibson used nitrate 3-ply (black/cream/black) jack plates on their early Juniors, while our Harley Benton guitar comes with a single-ply, solid-black jack plate. Initially, I wanted to swap the jack plate for a vintage-correct one, but while doing so I realized the Gibson jack plate won't fit the Harley Benton, which uses a smaller jack plate. Sure, it would be possible to make a custom jack plate out of the correct 3-ply material using the stock plate as a pattern, but I decided to simply leave the stock jack plate on the guitar, sacrificing some of the vintage look. Because I decided to upgrade the output jack to a full-sized version, I had to slightly enlarge the hole in the plate with a reamer. The four stock screws are chrome, so I decided to swap them for nickel versions, which will provide a more authentic look when aging them later.
8. Back Plate
Gibson used a black nitrate single-ply back plate in the '50s. Harley Benton did the same, but with modern plastic material. This is okay for me and will look very close to the original after aging it a bit. The two stock screws are chrome, so I decided to swap them for nickel versions for a more authentic look when aging them.
That's it for now. In the next part of this series, we'll cover the aging process for the hardware parts listed above and take a closer look at the pickguard.
Until then ... keep on modding!
- Mod Garage: Decouple Your Les Paul's Volume Controls - Premier ... ›
- Mod Garage: '50s Les Paul Wiring in a Telecaster - Premier Guitar ›
- Mod Garage: Three Ways to Wire a Tone Pot - Premier Guitar ›
We chat with Molly about Sister Rosetta’s “immediately impressive” playing, which blends jazz, gospel, chromaticism, and blues into an early rock ‘n’ roll style that was not only way ahead of its time but was also truly rockin’.
In the early ’60s, some of the British guitarists who would shape the direction of our instrument for decades to come all found themselves at a concert by Sister Rosetta Tharpe. What they heard from Tharpe and what made her performances so special—her sound, her energy—must have resonated. Back at home in the U.S., she was a captivating presence, wowing audiences going back to her early days in church through performing the first stadium rock ‘n’ roll concert—which was also one of her weddings—and beyond. Her guitar playing was incendiary, energetic, and a force to be reckoned with.
On this episode of 100 Guitarists, we’re joined by guitarist Molly Miller, who in addition to being a fantastic guitarist, educator, bandleader, and performing with Jason Mraz, is a bit of a Sister Rosetta scholar. We chat with Molly about Sister Rosetta’s “immediately impressive” playing, which blends jazz, gospel, chromaticism, and blues into an early rock ‘n’ roll style that was not only way ahead of its time but was also truly rockin’.
OM-balance and comfort suited for the fingerstylist on a budget.
Comfortably, agreeably playable. Balanced dimensions. Nice fretwork.
Lighter mahogany top looks less classically mahogany-like. Some compressed sounds in heavy-strumming settings.
$299
Guild OM-320
guildguitars.com
The Premier Guitar crew is spoiled when it comes to hanging out with nice flattops. But while those too-brief encounters with acoustics we can’t afford teach us a lot about the flattop at its most refined, they also underscore a disconnect between the cost and the acoustic guitar’s status as a true folk instrument of the people.
Guild’s OM-320, from the company’s new 300 series, sells for $299, which isn’t much more than a good-quality, entry-level flattop cost in the 1980s. Strikingly, there’s a lot of competition in this price class. Even so, the OM-320’s nice build quality and pretty tone in fingerpicking applications stand out in a very crowded price segment.
The United Guild of Deal-Seeking Pickers
Though Guild, in all its incarnations, has always made accessible guitars a part of their offerings, a $300 instrument with the company’s logo might give pause to players familiar with guitars from their various U.S. factories. Quality can be hit-or-miss on any guitar from any brand at the entry level. What’s more, a lot of guitars with different brand names come from just a few OEM facilities—lending a certain sameness on top of irregular quality. But the recent acquisition of Guild by Yamaha, who has a reputation for solid entry-level instruments, inspires confidence as far as these concerns go.
So, too, does the integrity of the OM-320 at the nuts-and-bolts level. I couldn’t find any overt lapses in quality control. And in many spots where that really counts, like the fretwork, the execution is especially good. Little details like the Guild logo overlay (rather than a simple decal) add a soupçon of luxury. So do the Guild-branded, Grover Sta-Tite-style butterbean tuners, which look stylish and feel sensitive and accurate.
“The neck inhabits a comfortable zone between C and D shapes that’s super agreeable and, at least in my case, a nice antidote for hand fatigue.”
Though the body is built from layered mahogany on the back and sides and a solid mahogany top, the latter is much lighter and amber- or honey-toned than the rich cocoa-hued mahogany tops you’d associate with a vintage Guild M-20, or, for that matter, theM-120 from the company’s contemporary Westerly line. As a result, you see a little more contrast in the grain and a little dimpling in certain sections of the wood. The lighter wood isn’t unattractive, it just looks less trad, if you’re chasing Nick Drake’s Bryter Layter style. If that’s important, you should adjust the “design/build” score appropriately.
Sit and Stay Awhile
Barring being covered in porcupine spines, almost any OM or 000 will qualify as a pure-comfort title finalist. It’s not too thick, too wide, nor too petite—a size and profile that also pays unique, civilized sonic dividends. Here, the OM body is complimented by a neck that feels like an especially natural match. I don’t have a bunch of inexpensive OMs on hand to compare, and there isn’t anything wildly unique about the shape, but the neck profile feels very proportionate to the body. It also, depending on your own sense of such things, inhabits a comfortable zone between C and D shapes that’s super agreeable and, at least in my case, a nice antidote for hand fatigue. The neck is not classically OM-like in terms of nut width. The M-320’s nut measures 1 13/16", which is typical of a 000, rather than the 1 3/4" associated with OMs. The extra width, of course, would make the guitar more appealing to some fingerstylists that need the space. At no point, however, did I feel anything close to cramped; it’s just very comfortable.
The combination of layered back and sides, OM/000 dimensions, and mahogany mean the OM-320 feels and sounds less than super-widescreen in terms of tone spectrum and power. Nevertheless, it sounds balanced and pretty—particularly with a droning, dropped 6th string and other more-elastic tunings where the guitar can exercise the lower extremes of its voice. Tuning to standard has the effect of highlighting midrange emphasis, which can get boxy and render the 3rd and 4th strings a bit less potent and present. That said, it’s still balanced and almost never collapses into a distorted harmonic blur. The bottom end maintains an appealing growl and, as long as you use a gentler picking approach, you can use the highest four strings in very dynamic ways. Using a capo emphasizes other cool, high-mid-focused voices in the guitar that coexist well with most strumming approaches.
The Verdict
Inexpensive guitars that feel great can make up for a lot of shortcomings in tone. But the OM-320’s deficiencies in the latter regard are few, and some perceived limitations, like midrange emphasis, are intrinsic to guitars with OM dimensions. So, while forceful strumming is not the OM-320’s strength, the comfortable playability might just lead you to those places anyway. And if you compensate accordingly with touch dynamics, you can conjure many sweetly chiming tones that might sound extra sweet given the bargain price
Barry Little’s onstage rig.
How you want to sound and what makes you happy are both highly subjective. When it comes to packing and playing gear for shows, let those considerations be your guide.
I was recently corresponding with Barry Little, aPG reader from Indiana, Pennsylvania, about “the One”—that special guitar that lets us play, and even feel, better when it’s in our hands. We got talking about the gear we bring to gigs, and Barry sent me the photo that appears with this column.
“I’m mostly old school and take quite the amp rig, and usually two or three Strats or ‘super strats,’ plus some Teles,” he wrote. “Some are in different tunings.” Barry also has a rack, built with famed guitar-rig designer Bob Bradshaw’s help, that he says holds a Bad Cat preamp bearing serial number one. For his ’70s/’80s rock outfit and his country band, this covers the waterfront.
I love Barry’s rig; it looks awesome! So … why do I feel guilty about the substantial amount of gear I take to gigs where my five-piece band will be playing a concert-length set? Onstage, my setup looks fantastic—at least to me. It’s the gear I’ve always wanted. But packed inside cases and ready to load into the Honda Odyssey with a rooftop carrier that all five of us and our instruments travel in for away dates … it seems excessive. Currently, I take three guitars: my customized reissue Fender Esquire “Dollycaster,” my Zuzu one-off Green Monster, and a Supro Conquistador, plus a 1-string electric diddley bow made from a crawfish-boiling pot. They start every show in open G octave (D–G–D–G–D–G), open D, standard tuning, and A, respectively. There’s also a Sony GLXD6+ wireless, and a pedalboard with 13 effects stomps, a tuner, and two power boxes, along with a Brown Box. That board is the launchpad for the stereo signal that runs into two Carr 1x12 combos: a Vincent and a Telstar. In addition, there’s a big black bag with spare cables, fuses, capos, strings, extension cords, microphones, straps, duct tape, and just about anything else you might need. After all that, miraculously, there is also room for my bandmates–another guitarist, bass, drums, and theremin—and their gear, plus light luggage.
I admit that’s a lot, but it used to be more—at least by the pound. In the late ’90s and early 2000s, I often played through two Marshall 4x12s with a Mesa/Boogie Duel Rectifier Trem-O-Verb on one and a ’72 Marshall Super Lead atop the other. And before that, it was the Marshall with a 4x12 plus a ’66 Fender Twin Reverb. I kept a waist back-support belt in the van, but spent a decent chunk of that era living with regular back pain.
“I admit that’s a lot, but it used to be more—at least by the pound.”
Where am I going with this? Besides a desire for you to absolve me of my guilt, I feel like all of this gear is … um … necessary? It’s the recipe for the sound I want to hear, for the versatility of the material, and for me to play from my happiest place—onstage in the middle of a glorious stereo field of my own making. It’s not really about gear and it’s not about somebody else’s definition of practicality. It’s about joy. Ideally, you should be able to bring whatever gives you joy to a gig. Period.
Sure, naysayers will yap that after a guitar, a cable, and an amp, nothing else is necessary. And on a certain misguided, intolerant level, they are right. We can all play a show with just the basics, but I, for one, don’t want to—unless maybe it’s a solo gig. Neither did Jimi Hendrix. There is a universe of tones out there waiting to be discovered and explored. There are improvisational paths that only a pedalboard can suggest. (Of course, if you’re playing a small stage, traveling in too tight quarters, or claiming turf that impinges on bandmates, those considerations apply. “Be kind” is a good rule of thumb for life, including band life.)
Remember, the naysayers are not in your bones, and onlyyour bones know what you need and want. Don’t let the voices—even in your own head—nag you. (I, too, must take this advice to heart.) Bring whatever you want to bring to gigs, as long as you can get it there. Do it guiltlessly. Have fun. And listen to your bones.Kim Deal on Failure: “There’s a Sweetness to Seeing Somebody Get Their Ass Kicked"
While creating her new solo record, Kim Deal was drawn to exploring the idea of failure.
The veteran musician and songwriter steps into the spotlight with Nobody Loves You More, a long-in-the-making solo record driven by loss, defeat, and friendship.
While Kim Deal was making her new album, she was intrigued with the idea of failure. Deal found the work of Dutch artist Bas Jan Ader, who disappeared at sea in 1975 while attempting to sail by himself from the U.S. to England in a 13-foot sailboat. His boat was discovered wrecked off the southern coast of Ireland in April 1976, 10 months after Ader departed the Massachusetts coast. Ader’s wife took one of the last photos of him as he set off on the doomed journey from Chatham Harbor: Ader, wearing a blue tracksuit and a bright orange life jacket cinched around his neck, is beaming.
Deal isn’t smiling on the cover of Nobody Loves You More, her new album, but the art bears some similarities: Deal is floating on a platform in an expanse of gentle, dark blue waves, accompanied only by a few pastel-colored amps, her guitar, a stool, and a flamingo. It’s an unmistakably lonely image, but for Deal, failure doesn’t mean loneliness. It’s not even necessarily a bad thing.
“I mean, at least something magnificent was tried, you know?” says Deal. “At least there was something to fail. That’s an endearing thing. I think there’s a sweetness to seeing somebody get their ass kicked, because they were in it. It warms my heart to see that, just people getting out there. Maybe it gives me the courage and confidence to try something. It’s okay if I get my butt kicked. At least you’re trying something.”
“I think there’s a sweetness to seeing somebody get their fucking ass kicked, because they were fucking in it.”
Nobody Loves You More feels at least a little like Van Ader’s journey: an artistic project so long in the making and so precious to its creator that they’re willing to break from all conventions and face the abject terror of being judged by the world. That might seem like nothing new for Deal, who’s played music professionally for over 35 years, first with Pixies, then with the Breeders. But this LP marks her first proper solo album under her own name—a thought that mortified her for a long time. (“I like rock bands,” she says.) Even when she recorded and released what could be called “solo” music, she released it under a pseudonym. Initially, it was to be Tammy and the Amps. “I still was so uncomfortable, so I created Tammy and the Amps,” explains Deal. “I’m Tammy, who are my band? It’s the amplifiers downstairs in my basement. But the Tammy thing sort of got on my nerves so I just dropped it, so it was called the Amps.” She also assembled a band around that concept and released Pacer under the Amps’ name in 1995.
The cover art for Nobody Loves You More echoes the doomed last voyage of Dutch artist Bas Jan Ader.
This new record hums with the soft-loud energetic alchemy that defines much of Deal’s previous works. The opening title track is a slow, romantic strummer with string arrangements, while “Coast” is faintly ska-indebted with horns and a ragged Blondie chord progression. “Crystal Breath” gets weirder, with distorted drums, synthy bass, and a detuned, spidery guitar lead. “Disobedience” and “Big Ben Beat” continue the darker and heavier trajectories with fuzzy stompers interspersed with ambient, affective interlude tracks like “Bats in the Afternoon Sky.” It’s a patient, sensitive, and unmistakably scrappy record.
Some of the songs on Nobody Loves You More are as up-close and personal as solo records get. One in particular that’s drawn attention is “Are You Mine?,” a sleepy-eyed, lullaby ballad. At first listen, it could be taken for a love song. (In fact, Deal encourages this interpretation.) But it’s a song about her mother, for whom Deal cared in her home while she died from Alzheimer’s. The song title comes from a gut-wrenching moment.
“I was in the house, she doesn’t know my name,” explains Deal. “She’s still walking, she can form words, but she doesn’t know what a daughter is or anything. She passes me in the hallway, stops, grabs my arm and says, ‘Are you mine?’ She doesn’t know my name, she doesn’t know who I am, but there was a connection. I knew she was asking if I was her baby. I said, ‘Yeah, mama, I’m yours.’ I’m sure five seconds later, she forgot that conversation even happened. It was just a flicker, but it was so sweet. To have her not see me in so long, and then for one brief second, be recognized in some capacity…. She was such a sweet lady.”
Deal’s mother wasn’t the only loss that went into this collection of songs. Her father passed, too, after a prolonged illness. “My dad was this big bravado sort of personality and watching them get extinguished a little bit every day… I don’t know,” she says. “They both died at home. I’m very proud of that.” But writing “Are You Mine?” wasn’t painful for Deal; she says it was a comforting experience writing the gentle arpeggio on her Candelas nylon-string acoustic.
Deal assembled the bulk of Nobody Loves You More in her Dayton, Ohio, basement, recording with Pro Tools and a particularly pleasing Electrodyne microphone preamp. (Some of the songs date back more than a decade—versions of “Are You Mine?” and “Wish I Was” were initially recorded in 2011 and released as part of a series of 7" singles.) Deal recorded a good part of the record’s drums, bass, and guitar from home, but other contributions came in fits and spurts over the years, from old faces and new. Her Breeders bandmates, including Mando Lopez, Jim MacPherson, Britt Walford, and sister Kelley Deal, all pitched in, as did Fay Milton and Ayse Hassan from British post-punk band Savages, and the Raconteurs’ Jack Lawrence.
Kim Deal cared for her parents in their Dayton, Ohio, home until their passing, an experience that colors the music on her new solo record.
Photo by Steve Gullick
Kim Deal's Gear
Guitars
- '90s Fender Stratocaster
- '70s goldtop Gibson Les Paul
- Candelas nylon-string acoustic
Amps
- Marshall JCM900
- 4x12 cabinet
- Kalamazoo combo
Strings & Picks
- .011-gauge strings
- Dunlop Tortex Standard .60 mm
One day, ex-Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist Josh Klinghoffer stopped by the studio to see what Deal was working on. He listened to “Wish I Was,” and scrambled together a lead idea. Deal kept the part and expanded it over time, leading to Klinghoffer’s writing credit on the record.
Deal used her trademark red ’90s Fender Stratocaster HSS along with a ’70s goldtop Gibson Les Paul for most of the electric work, pumped through either her long-time Marshall JCM900 or a tiny vintage Kalamazoo combo. Deal has never been a gearhead—at one point on our video call, she uses a tooth flosser as a pick to demonstrate some parts on her Candelas. “Kelley is a pedal person,” she says. “I’m not doing leads. I’m just doing a rhythm that needs to sound good.”
“I don’t think I’m taking it very well still, actually, or I’m a sociopath because I don’t even talk about [Steve Albini] in the past tense.”Over the years, Deal’s sonic thumbprint has been tied up in the work of her good friend and frequent collaborator Steve Albini, the producer, engineer, and musician who died unexpectedly in May 2024. (Deal quips, “Steve’s the lead character in my own life.”) Albini and Deal began working together in 1988, on Pixies’ debut LP Surfer Rosa. Their friendship continued over decades—Deal even performed at Albini’s wedding in Hawaii, for which he gifted her a ukulele—and the final sessions for Nobody Loves You More were under Albini’s watch. His parting hasn’t been easy.
“I got a text: ‘Call me,’” remembers Deal. It was a mutual friend, telling Deal that Albini had passed. “He told me and I just said, ‘You’re absolutely wrong. That didn’t happen.’ I don’t think I’m taking it very well still, actually. I don’t even talk about him in the past tense. I say, ‘What he likes to do is this.’ I never think, ‘What Steve used to like to do.’ My head never goes there. I wanted to record a song that wasn’t working and I said, ‘I need to do it from top to bottom at Albini’s.’ That’s not going to happen.”
YouTube
Along with Rob Bochnik and Spencer Tweedy, Kim Deal plays two tracks from Nobody Loves You More for a holiday fundraiser in November 2024 in Chicago.