
When it comes to cosmic tone, it’s critical to have functional potentiometers. Here’s how to install them correctly and keep them ship-shape afterward.
(Originally published March 27, 2020)
Over the last few years, we've discussed the construction of potentiometers and diagnosed several potential problems with these essential, yet sometimes pesky, electric guitar components. (If you missed these, check out “The Trouble with Tribbles" and “Dealing with Knobs and Pots.")
Let's now consider problems that can occur when replacing pots, and then discuss ways to either avoid or solve these potential issues. Over the years I've analyzed virtual cries for help from hundreds of customers, and as a result I can safely say that non-working pots fall into one of two categories that account for essentially 100 percent of the problems: (1) mechanical damage while installing the pots, or (2) soldering damage when wiring them up. It's very, very rare that a pot comes DOA from the factory. Reputable manufactures have quality control systems to prevent this, so it's almost guaranteed that a problem with a potentiometer has to do with the end user. So let's take a look at these two scenarios.
Mechanical damage.
In this case, the most common damage is caused by overtightening the nuts, especially when installing pots into a guitar with a stiff wooden top like a Les Paul.When installing pots, forget the adage "the more, the merrier." Instead, keep this in mind: The next level beyond "tight" and "super-tight" is "broken." Guitar pots don't have to handle a lot of weight or withstand a nuclear strike, so they should only be screwed down tight enough to remain immobile when you rotate the knobs.
First and foremost, it's essential that you install the pots correctly. This might sound obvious or trivial, but you can't imagine how many guitars I've seen where pots have been installed in, shall we say, unusually creative ways.
Here's how to do it right: The first step is to slip the lock washer onto the pot shaft and then insert the shaft through the hole in your guitar's pickguard or top. With the shaft protruding through the other side, now put the flash washer on the shaft, followed by the hex nut, which you can initially thread with your fingers. Finally, use a socket wrench, small adjustable wrench, or an ESP Multi Spanner to carefully tighten the hex nut until it's snug against the washer and doesn't turn anymore.
If you discover that the pot sits too high on your pickguard or guitar top, you'll need to remove the pot and start over by first threading another hex nut on the shaft, followed by the lock washer, and then repeating the installation process. This "underside" hex nut will let you adjust the height of the pot to your individual wishes. Simply insert the shaft through the pickguard or top, eyeball the height, and adjust the hidden hex nut up or down on the pot threads as needed. Finally, add the flash washer and exterior hex nut to complete the process. The key here is to always remember the correct order of these parts.
So what happens to a pot when you overtighten it? If the four tiny tabs that hold the little metal plate to the shaft, wiper, etc., are unable to withstand the force applied to the shaft when you torque down the hex nut, they'll bend and let the plate and the shaft rotate freely. Hmm, no good.
But don't worry, it's an easy fix: Use needle-nose pliers or a small flathead screwdriver to gently pull the tabs up a little more so you can rotate the plate and return it to its centered position. Then bend the tabs back into place so they hold the shaft securely (Photo 1). Done!
It's almost guaranteed that a problem with a potentiometer has to do with the end user.
Other mechanical damage is typically caused by trying to remove or install knobs that aren't made for a given pot's shaft. When you try to hammer down a non-fitting knob, you can easily break the shaft by forcing it through the knob bushing. (In most cases, this happens when trying to force a metric knob, measured in millimeters, onto a U.S. pot shaft, measured in fractions of an inch.)
If you try to remove a jammed knob that someone managed to "fit" using brute force—or even attach with superglue—chances are good you'll break the wiper inside the pot and pull out the entire shaft along with the knob.
Yet this is easy to avoid: Never try to force a knob onto the pot shaft; instead use one that fits. If you need to remove an improperly fitted knob, use a heat gun to soften the plastic or a saw to split it open. Don't use any upward or downward pressure—that will ruin the pot, for sure.
Soldering damage.
The easiest way to damage a pot is to overheat it, especially when attaching a ground wire to the back casing. It's a common mistake. When it comes to how long your soldering iron should be in contact with the pot, the golden rule is "as short as possible, but as long as necessary." It takes time to develop this skill, so you'll need to practice. Also, to avoid disaster it's crucial to have the right tools. Here are some helpful guidelines for soldering onto pots.
1. If you don't have a soldering station with an adjustable temperature control, you need at least two different handheld soldering irons: one rated at around 30 watts and the other around 60 watts. This is exactly what I use for any soldering job outside the shop. The 30-watt iron is for soldering on the pot terminals, pickup selector switch terminals, output jack terminals—those common tasks. The 30-watt iron is our daily go-to tool for all things guitar at the shop.
The 60-watt iron is for soldering to pot casings and Stratocaster tremolo claws. Don't try to solder to a pot's case with a 30-watt iron—the solder will need a very long time to flow and you'll expose the pot to a lot of heat. With a 60-watt iron, the solder will flow instantly and soldering time will be very short. This yields strong solder joints.
2. If you want to be on the safe side, remove the case from the pot before you solder to it. That's what I do when I want to avoid damaging vintage pots. To remove the case, gently bend the four metal tabs away from you. To reinstall the case, simply bend the tabs back into place. Take your time and go easy.
3. Always rub the metal casing with 180-grit sandpaper before soldering to it. Manufacturers use all kinds of greasy coatings to protect the case against oxidation, which can make a soldering job close to impossible. So sand the case until it's clean and shiny, and then clean it with naphtha. This will provide the perfect base for a good soldering joint. But don't do this to vintage pots! For those, it's paramount to preserve the patina that comes with age.
4. If you decide not to remove the pot's case, strive to avoid any unnecessary heat. Here are some helpful tips:
- Always turn the pot down to 0 before soldering to its case.
- Use a heat sink on the case. For this job, you'll need something bigger than just a standard clip. To enhance its effect, you can chill the heat sink in the fridge ahead of time.
- If you need to connect one of the terminals to ground, as on most volume pots, don't try to solder the terminal directly to the case by bending it back. This may look cool and vintage, but you'll need a lot of heat and good soldering technique to pull this off. Simply use a piece of solid-core wire and solder it to the terminal and from there to the case—this yields the same performance.
- After tinning the case, let it completely cool down before you solder the wire to it.
5. Don't apply excessive solder to a terminal—it will flow down the terminal's leg and find its way inside the pot.
Photo 2 — Photo courtesy singlecoil.com
Photo 2 shows a pot from my "Hall of Shame" collection. Look at the two red marks at the end of the two terminals. These solder blobs are what happen when you apply way too much solder. There's also a big solder blob on the middle terminal's inner ring. How someone managed to get the solder inside there will forever remain a mystery. On the upper left, notice how the carbon is melted and buckled from too much heat. This poor little thing had to endure cruel treatment ... may it rest in peace!
Remember, if you don't solder regularly, there's no shame in having a professional guitar tech do the work for you—especially when you have a vintage guitar and need to work on its original pots. Retaining your guitar's value is an excellent investment. Soldering on pots isn't rocket science, but it requires the right tools, experience, and a steady hand.
Maintaining pots.
These are mechanical devices with a limited lifespan, and it's inevitable they'll start to wear out over time. Yes, it's possible to clean, repair, and renew the carbon inside, but this only makes sense for a vintage pot, not a modern one. Instead of trying to repair the latter, it's more cost-effective to simply replace it.
Typical pots are not completely sealed; they have open areas around the terminals, so moisture and dust can creep inside. To prevent this, you can buy pots that are completely sealed or cover standard pots with an additional dust seal. Usually a guitar's electronic compartment is closed and not directly exposed to contamination, so an additional dust cover isn't necessary for our applications.
Also, there's no need to maintain your pots. At a certain point, they'll begin to wear out and make scratchy noises when you turn them. This means it's replacement time! You can delay this a bit with contact cleaner, but this treatment is only temporary. Contact cleaner is cool for some applications, such as servicing hi-fi equipment, but it can't repair worn-out pots.
My advice? Never use contact cleaner on your pots because the cleaner will attract debris, and when it evaporates you're left with hard, dry crud—something you definitely do not want inside your pot. To combat this, you'll spray more cleaner and thus begin a destructive cycle. This results in replacing the pot much earlier than necessary, exactly the opposite of what you want. We all know the road to hell is paved with good intentions. If a pot is really dusty and making scratchy noises—maybe you took your Tele to Burning Man—the best thing to do is open it up and swab everything with Q-Tips soaked in naphtha.
Finally, when it comes time to replace a pot, pay attention to the specs. Some pots are designed for 2,000 rotations while others are tested to withstand 20,000. You get what you pay for, and this isn't a place to cut corners.
All right! Next month we'll examine the Peavey Omniac JD, Jerry Donahue's signature model T-style, and I'll show you how to transfer its sophisticated wiring scheme to your own guitar. Until then ... keep on modding!
- Three Must-Try Guitar Wiring Mods - Premier Guitar ›
- Mod Garage: Three Ways to Wire a Tone Pot - Premier Guitar ›
- Mod Garage: Dealing with Knobs and Pots - Premier Guitar ›
There’s so much more that goes into building a pedal—but you do need to get your workstation in order first.
Think that price tag on that pedal is a bit high? There’s a lot more that goes into it than just what’s in the box.
The inspiration for this topic comes from a recent video published by JHS Pedals. The video consists of Josh Scott giving an honest breakdown and rebuttal to a video posted to YouTube by John Nathan Cordy. In Cordy’s clip, he disassembles a JHS pedal while asking if the general consumer is getting “ripped off” because the cost of the parts isn’t very exorbitant. (Cordy later issued an apology.) I’ve often lived by the motto, “You’re not paying for the parts; you’re paying for how they’re put together.” So, what goes into making a pedal, and are they overpriced? There’s a lot to cover, so let’s dig in.
It can be easy for a consumer to get bogged down by the cost of the end product in relation to the value of raw materials. This is made even more evident given that we have access to the value of the raw materials. A quick web search for a Fuzz Face schematic, followed by some research on where to purchase those components, along with their value, might leave you scratching your head as to why a boutique manufacturer might be selling a Fuzz Face-style pedal for $199 and up. I’d immediately point out that your head isn’t the only thing that we’ve scratched in this example—we’ve only scratched the surface of the cost.
Let’s say I’m a contractor, and you want me to put up a fence on your property, and I buy $100 worth of wood and nails and put it up in 10 hours. Is that job worth $100? No. I don’t think anyone reading this would think that. People understand costs when they go past the tangible. We’re talking about labor. The very thing that employees are reimbursed for. That’s still not the aspect that I think the common consumer struggles to grasp. I think that they have a disconnect when it comes to the ancillary. In this example, it would be the cost of the tools, the insurance and fuel for the work truck, and the advertising cost for the page where you found the contractor in the first place. Let’s bring this back to pedals and unpack this a little bit more.
I’m going to attempt to outline bringing a pedal to life, from the inception of the idea to the selling of the final product—all while trying to expose the costs that I think people forget or simply don’t know about. I feel like a magician right now. “I’m going to attempt to make 15 buses appear on this skyscraper. All while hanging upside down and blindfolded.” Anyway, let’s give it a try.
“You’re not paying for the parts; you’re paying for how they’re put together.”
We know that the cost of the parts for a fuzz pedal is on the low side. Residing here in America (and for me in New England), we know that labor costs are on the higher side. But let’s keep digging up and exposing those forgotten or unknown running costs. After the idea of making the product, it starts with having the space to design and work on it. That would be rent, business insurance, liability insurance if there are employees, and common utilities bills. You need a bench to work at with adequate lighting, storage for the parts, and the parts themselves. These parts are only in our possession after hours of research on which parts we want to use. This includes specs like tolerance, material construction, component size, lead pitch, voltage ratings, and so on. But let’s not jump the gun. We need to order a variety of parts so that we can assemble the circuit on a breadboard, test it, make changes and additions, and record the results onto a schematic. That is, of course, after we purchase and learn how to work on a breadboard, and connect it to an instrument and amplifier. Then we need to learn how to read and write in the language that is electronics schematics. This is something that 95 percent of pedalbuilders learn on their own. So there’s no formal education cost here, but it’s hours and hours of learning.
Let’s say we’ve made it this far and we know what we want to use in the fuzz circuit. Next, we order the parts (most likely from several suppliers and pay separate shipping costs for all). Once they arrive, we stock them in their appropriate locations. Now we’ve arrived at a big step: turning what we have on the breadboard and schematic into a circuit board that mates with an enclosure. Oh, dear!
Join me for part two as I break down the next steps in this journey from idea to final product—and final price.
There’s no disputing the influence B.B. King has had on the history of electric guitar music. We’re talking about his sound, his best records, his guitars, his showmanship, and his collabs, from an all-star jam at the 2010 Crossroads festival to, yes, even his 1988 U2 collab, “When Love Comes to Town.”
There’s no disputing the influence B.B. King has had on the history of electric guitar music.
With Lucille in hand—as well as other guitars—he carved out his sound by developing a signature one-of-a-kind vibrato and pick attack. His note choice, phrasing, and feel have basically become the fundamental vocabulary of electric blues. Even more than any other of his blues peers, his playing shaped blues and rock guitar. And that’s not to mention his singing.
So, on this episode of 100 Guitarists, we’re celebrating the King. We’re talking about his sound, his best records, his guitars, his showmanship, and his collabs, from an all-star jam at the 2010 Crossroads festival to, yes, even his 1988 U2 collab, “When Love Comes to Town.”
In our current listening segment, we’re talking about Brian John McBrearty’s recent meditation-jazz release Remembering Repeating and Julian Lage’s latest, Apple Music Nashville Sessions.
This episode is sponsored by Gibson.
Tighten up your rhythm playing by focusing on how to get a great sound, balancing your wrist and elbow, and understanding how to subdivide rhythms.
Nile Rodgers brings the rhythm at Bonnaroo 2018.
How the rhythm-playing hitmaker behind Chic—and our columnist—learned to love pop music, and why maybe you should, too.
When Nile Rodgers speaks, we should listen. His seminal work with his own band, Chic, as well as Sister Sledge, Michael Jackson, Mick Jagger, Eric Clapton, Peter Gabriel, Madonna, David Bowie, and Daft Punk, has made him a legend. He also filmed an entertaining Rig Rundown with PG just last year.
I recently listened to his 2017 South by Southwest address, where he told a story about a formative moment in his life. Nile was complaining to his guitar teacher, Ted Dunbar, about having to sing the Archies’ “Sugar, Sugar”at an upcoming cover band gig. Dunbar replied, “Let me tell you something. Any song that sells and gets to the Top 40 ... is a great composition.” Rodgers was skeptical. Then Dunbar added, “Especially ‘Sugar, Sugar.’ That has been No. 1 for four or five weeks.” Next, Dunbar said something that changed Rodger’s life. “‘Sugar, Sugar’ was successful,” he said, “because it speaks to the souls of a million strangers.” Rodgers noted: “Two weeks later, I wrote a song called ‘Everybody Dance.’” Released in 1977, it was a Top 40 single on Chic's first album.
In a BBC This Cultural Life interview, Rodgers said that Dunbar “described an artist to me. I wasn’t an artist until he defined that. I wanted to speak to the souls of a million strangers, but I thought what I wanted to do was speak to some real cool people hanging out in jazz clubs.”
“Everybody Dance” and “Sugar, Sugar”both have hypnotizingly simple lyrics you inevitably replay in your head. Humans like chants, cheers, slogans, and catchy choruses. Rodgers' success came, at least in part, from opening himself up to simplicity that appeals to the masses instead of the complexity that appeals to jazzers. That’s the irony. Jazz, which ostensibly is all about freedom, is often restrictive. Like the old joke goes, jazzers play millions of chords for four people. Pop, rock, and country artists play four chords for millions of people.
Rodgers said, “That's what my teacher taught me, that anti-snobbery. Be open. Love all the music you are around, or at least try and appreciate what that artist is trying to say. Try and have, what we call in the music business, big ears.”
My friends and I have all, at times, been music snobs. I went through a blues binge in my youth where I was prejudiced against shredders. This was not uncommon at the time. After Nirvana hit with Nevermind in 1991, suddenly musicians were openly mocked for playing complex, difficult parts. It was almost like if you cared enough to really learn to play guitar, you were uncool. That was a big relief for me, as I could play neither complex nor difficult parts at the time.
“Taylor Swift is the Beatles of my daughter’s generation.”
Later, when I moved to Nashville, I was all about clean Telecasters and thought ill of music with lots of dirt or effects. Younger me would have plenty of condescending quips about my current love of overdriven humbuckers and delay. Most of my snobbery was driven by my deep insecurities, but part of it was tribalism. The heart wants what it wants; when you find your musical tribe, most of the young zealots trade all others for their one true religion. It might be the only way to get good at something.
On the other hand, my friends and I listen to a variety of music, but the common factor is it usually involves good guitar playing. We love what we love because it speaks to our souls. But most guitar players are drawn to those who are doing what we wish we could do. My uncle Fred used to say, “There’s nothing wrong with being a snob. It just means that you have good taste.”
Between club dates, sessions, and the occasional TV gig, I play with tons of people. I have no say in the set list, so “Sugar, Sugar” moments are unavoidable. I used to feel deep shame playing those types of songs, like it reflects poorly on my personal taste or abilities. In short, I was prejudiced until I saw all of the true pros who could find something beautiful, challenging in the seemingly mundane. It’s like the old actor’s adage: There are no small parts, just small players.
According to Forbes, Taylor Swift was “The Biggest Artist in the World in 2023.” That being the case, her songs inevitably come up on cover gigs. When this happens, some musicians might groan, like it makes them cool to hate on pop culture. But that’s probably because they don't really know her work. Taylor Swift is my 8-year-old daughter’s Alexa go-to, so I know Taylor’s catalog really well. Turns out, it’s amazing, full of truly catchy, engaging, touching songs. Taylor Swift is the Beatles of my daughter’s generation. Snobs will think that statement is heresy, but snobs often don’t know what they are talking about, and they never have as much fun as the people who are dancing violently to “Shake It Off,” or singing with eyes closed to “All Too Well.”