Get convincing “in-between” Strat sounds from Teles and other two-pickup guitars.
This month we'll look at a cool Telecaster wiring that also works with any two-pickup guitar with a master tone/master volume configuration. Designed by the great pickup maker Bill Lawrence, this wiring deals with the so-called half out-of-phase option (more on this in a moment).
Fig. 1 reproduces the relevant page from Bill Lawrence's now-famous scrapbook, where he archived all his wirings as handwritten diagrams. (Thanks to my luthier colleague Ivan "Joe Owl" Franasovic for introducing me to this wiring.)
Fig. 1
Image courtesy of Bill Lawrence (billlawrence.com)
Bill Lawrence (real name: Willi Lorenz Stich) was born in Germany in 1931 and became one of the country's best guitarists of the post-WWII era. He was a busy session musician and jazz player who performed under the name Billy Lorento. Germany's Framus guitar company even built a signature model for him (the 5/120) that's still available today. Later on, he started a second career in the guitar industry under the name Bill Lawrence. He conceived many groundbreaking pickup designs and other musical instrument innovations. Sadly, he died in November 2013 at age 82, but his music and genius live on.
Basically, this wiring follows the standard Telecaster schematic, but substitutes a 5-way Strat-style pickup selector for the Tele's traditional 3-way switch, unlocking two new tones. Here's the switching matrix:
- Position 1: neck pickup alone
- Position 2: neck + bridge in parallel
- Position 3: bridge pickup alone
- Position 4: neck + bridge in parallel "half out of phase
- Position 5: neck pickup alone with 10 percent less low end than position 1
We all know switch positions 1, 2 and 3 from standard Telecaster wiring (though they appear here in a different order). Meanwhile, position 5 cuts some lows for a slightly brighter tone than position 1, which makes it cool for more prominent rhythm tones and jazz lines. I was skeptical about the value of position 5, but as I experimented, I found I liked it more and more, so I recommend you give it a try as well.
But for me, the highlight of this wiring is position 4, with both pickups together and "half out of phase" with each other, a concept later adopted by Fender for their Jerry Donahue signature Telecaster and by Peavey for their Omniac JD model.
The highlight of this wiring is position 4, with both pickups together and "half out of phase" with each other.
So what the heck is "half out of phase?" I don't want to bore you with electrical theory, so here's a short, simplified explanation.
Phase differences are measured in degrees. Totally in-phase sounds have either 0 or 360 degrees of difference, meaning none. Totally out-of-phase sounds have a 180-degree difference. So half out of phase is either 90 or 270 degrees of difference. You can only achieve a fully out-of-phase effect when using two pickups together with one wired out of phase. (When both pickups are wired out of phase, they sound the same as both pickups in phase, because there are still 0 degrees of phase difference between them.)
But when a signal passes through a capacitor, the voltage leads the current by 90 degrees. In this wiring, one pickup's signal gets routed through a capacitor, shifting the phase by 90 degrees—exactly half of 180 degrees, and therefore half out of phase. Bill Lawrence chose to send the neck pickup's signal through an additional capacitor, connected directly to the 5-way switch. (If you want to dig deeper into the out-of-phase thing, check out this column: https://www.premierguitar.com/articles/phasing-out-how-to-get-out-of-phase-sounds-from-a-stratocaster-1)
So what are the tonal differences compared to a standard out-of-phase sound? The standard version cuts more lows and mids, while position 4 here has a fuller-sounding tone. Half out-of-phase wiring is perfect for mimicking a Stratocaster's "in-between" positions (2 and 4) using a Telecaster. (Even though on the Strat, the two pickups are actually in phase.) This, for me, is the real benefit of this wiring. I encourage you to give it a try and experiment with the pickup height adjustment screws. You really can get something close to the Strat "in-between" sound we all love. That's definitely icing on any Telecaster cake!
Fig. 2
Image courtesy of singlecoil.com.
You can replace the stock Tele pickup selector with any standard 5-way switch for Strats. Both pots are 250k audio-taper types. The wiring works best with two single-coil pickups, like standard Tele ones. The capacitor connected to the tone pot is your typical tone cap. (Bill Lawrence chose a standard 0.022 µF value, but feel free to experiment with other values to find your personal favorite.) The cap connected to the 5-way switch is the phase-shifting cap mentioned above. Bill selected a 0.01 µF cap. In his words: "You may try caps between 0.005 µF (5000 pF) and 0.02 µF. The smaller the cap, the sweeter the sound."
I think 0.01 uF is a great choice, but this really depends on your particular pickups. I recommend experimentation, fine-tuning to get as close as possible to a Strat's "in-between" tones. The tone pot wiring differs slightly from a standard Telecaster's, but it works as intended, so I left it the way Bill designed it.
While Bill's handwritten diagram is iconic and über-cool as a historical document, I'm including a clearer drawing (Fig. 2) that may be easier to follow.
Next time we'll continue with another guitar mod, but if you'd like to see more ideas from Bill's scrapbook, let me know, and I'll cover them in future columns. Until then, keep on modding!
[Updated 11/18/21]
- Mod Garage: The Strat-o-Tele Crossover - Premier Guitar ›
- Mod Garage: Ritchie Blackmore Stratocaster Mods - Premier Guitar ›
- Decoding Jerry Donahue's 5-Way Telecaster Wiring - Premier Guitar ›
When Building Guitars—or Pursuing Anything—Go Down All the Rabbit Holes
Paul Reed Smith says being a guitar builder requires code-cracking, historical perspective, and an eclectic knowledge base. Mostly, it asks that we remain perpetual students and remain willing to become teachers.
I love to learn, and I don’t enjoy history kicking my ass. In other words, if my instrument-making predecessors—Ted McCarty, Leo Fender, Christian Martin, John Heiss, Antonio de Torres, G.B. Guadagnini, and Antonio Stradivari, to name a few—made an instrument that took my breath away when I played it, and it sounded better than what I had made, I wanted to know not just what they had done, but what they understood that I didn’t understand yet. And because it was clear to me that these masters understood some things that I didn’t, I would go down rabbit holes.
I am not a violin maker, but I’ve had my hands on some of Guadagnini’s and Stradivari’s instruments. While these instruments sounded wildly different, they had an unusual quality: the harder you plucked them the louder they got. That was enough to push me further down the rabbit hole of physics in instrument making. What made them special is a combination of deep understanding and an ability to tune the instrument and its vibrating surfaces so that it produced an extraordinary sound, full of harmonics and very little compression. It was the beginning of a document we live by at PRS Guitars called The Rules of Tone.
My art is electric and acoustic guitars, amplifiers, and speaker cabinets. So, I study bridge materials and designs, wood species and drying, tuning pegs, truss rods, pickups, finishes, neck shapes, inlays, electronics, Fender/Marshall/Dumble amp theories, schematics, parts, and overall aesthetics. I can’t tell you how much better I feel when I come to an understanding about what these masters knew, in combination with what we can manufacture in our facilities today.
One of my favorite popular beliefs is, “The reason Stradivari violins sound good is because of the sheep’s uric acid they soaked the wood in.” (I, too, have believed that to be true.) The truth is, it’s never just one thing: it’s a combination of complicated things. The problem I have is that I never hear anyone say the reason Stradivari violins sound good is because he really knew what he was doing. You don’t become a master of your craft by happenstance; you stay deeply curious and have an insatiable will to learn, apply what you learn, and progress.
“Acoustic and electric guitars, violins, drums, amplifiers, speaker cabinets–they will all talk to you if you listen.”
What’s interesting to me is, if a master passes away, everything they believed on the day they finished an instrument is still in that instrument. These acoustic and electric guitars, violins, drums, amplifiers, speaker cabinets—they will all talk to you if you listen. They will tell you what their maker believed the day they were made. In my world, you have to be a detective. I love that process.
I’ve had a chance to speak to the master himself. Leo Fender, who was not a direct teacher of mine but did teach me through his instruments, used to come by our booth at NAMM to pay his respects to the “new guitar maker.” I thought that was beautiful. I also got a chance to talk to Forrest White, who was Leo’s production manager, right before he passed away. What he wanted to know was, “How’d I do?” I said, “Forrest, you did great.” They wanted to know their careers and contributions were appreciated and would continue.
In my experience, great teachers throw a piece of meat over the fence to see if the dog will bite it. They don’t want to teach someone who doesn’t really want to learn and won’t continue their legacy and/or the art they were involved in. While I have learned so much from the masters who were gone before my time, I have also found that the best teaching is done one-on-one. Along my journey from high school bedroom to the world’s stages, I enrolled scores of teachers to help me. I didn’t justenroll them. I tackled them. I went after their knowledge and experience, which I needed for my own knowledge base to do this jack-of-all-trades job called guitar making and to lead a company without going out of business.
I’ve spent most of my career going down rabbit holes. Whether it’s wood, pickups, designs, metals, finishes, etc., I pay attention to all of it. Mostly, I’m looking backward to see how to go forward. Recently, we’ve been going more and more forward, and I can’t tell you how good that feels. For me, being a detective and learning is lifesaving for the company’s products and my own well-being.
Sometimes it takes a few days to come to what I believe. The majority of the time it’s 12 months. Occasionally, I’ll study something for a decade before I make up my mind in a strong way, and someone will then challenge that with another point of view. I’ll change my mind again, but mostly the decade decisions stick. I believe the lesson I’m hitting is “be very curious!” Find teachers. Stay a student. Become a teacher. Go down all the rabbit holes.
PG's demo master quickly (and easily) drops in an H-S-S setup into his 1994 40th Anniversary Stratocaster that needed help. Find out what happens when gets his first taste of active pickups.
EMG SL20 Steve Lukather Signature Pre-wired Pickguard with 3 Pickups - Black Pearl
SL20 Steve Lukather Pre-wired PG - Blk PearlHow 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"
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.