
Image 1
How you connect the tone cap and potentiometer to the volume control has a huge effect on your sound.
There are three different ways to configure the volume and tone controls in an electric guitar. Typically referred to as “modern," “'60s," and “'50s wiring," they perform differently and are a subject of great debate amongst tone fanatics. These wirings are often discussed in the context of a Les Paul, but the schemes apply to any guitar with a volume and tone control—whether it's a master-volume-plus-master-tone configuration, as with a Telecaster, or a guitar with individual volume and tone controls for each pickup, such as a Les Paul, ES-335, SG, and so on.
Let's examine these three systems and see how they differ. But first, some background: In a standard electric guitar, the potentiometers are used as variable resistors. We use two of the three lugs on each pot, and the tone cap is connected between the volume and tone controls. To keep it simple, we'll say each pot has an input lug, an output lug, and a third lug connected to ground.
As you close the pot—i.e., turn it counterclockwise—the wiper moves towards the grounded lug, sending more and more of your signal to ground. With the pot completely closed, all of the signal is sent to ground. In the case of a volume control, this results in silence. For the tone control, this yields the darkest tone. How dark depends on the capacitance of the connected tone cap.
With the pot completely open (turned fully clockwise), essentially the input and output are directly connected. This allows all the signal to pass through the output, which means you get full volume and, in the case of the tone control, maximum high-end chime because the tone cap has almost no influence on the sound.
On a tone pot, instead of sending the complete signal to ground, the capacitor only sends a part of the signal to ground. The capacitance of the tone cap determines the cut-off point of the high frequencies. A low-capacitance tone cap—3300 pF, for example—will pass the least amounts of high-end chime to ground. Thus, when you roll the pot completely back, you'll hear only a subtle change in the high end. This value keeps your sound alive and vital, creating something I like to call a "warmth control." A higher capacitance value, like 0.022 µF, will roll off much more of your high end, creating a darker tone. With capacitances of 0.1 µF or even higher, your tone will be close to clinically dead with the tone pot fully closed.
Okay, now that we've done our homework, it's time to compare the three wiring schemes. We'll begin with the configuration that's so commonly used in today's production guitars that it has become a quasi-standard.
Modern Wiring
As shown in Image 1, in this wiring scheme the tone cap is connected between the volume pot's input and the tone pot's middle lug (aka wiper), which in this case is also the output. This configuration yields the behavior we've come to expect from a passive guitar. When you turn down the volume (even just a bit), the treble loss is disproportionate to the drop in volume. In other words, a small cut in volume creates a far greater loss in your guitar's treble response. That's the nature of the beast—something we all know well. There is only one real solution to combat this "volume-versus-tone" problem: active electronics. All other solutions are just a compromise … but as is often the case, some compromising can make things much better.
This natural behavior in passive electronics is not an issue for all players. Many guitarists aren't bothered by it because they've gotten used to it over the years. Others really like this effect because it gives them a second tonal color from the same pickup. "Cool—I simply roll back the volume to fatten up the tone."
That said, many players prefer to have a consistent amount of treble at any volume setting. If that describes you, putting a carefully calculated treble-bleed network on all volume pots can be a good compromise. I explain how to do this in "Diving Deep into Treble-Bleed Networks."
There's one other thing to consider: How a control responds depends a lot on the pot's taper and ratio. Today, typical audio (aka logarithmic) pots have a 90:10 ratio, which results in a more or less "on-off" effect early in the rotation, rather than a useable range of control. Our human hearing simply doesn't work like this. To feel and sound right, a control needs a different ratio—preferably 60:40 or at least 65:35, which was the standard in the '50s and '60s. Sadly, most modern guitars come equipped from the factory with 90:10 audio taper pots.
People often talk about the magical tone of late-'50s sunburst Les Pauls. Well, part of this mojo is due to the '50s wiring.
Linear pots have a different problem: Over almost the whole rotation, you won't hear a significant change in tone or volume, but when you reach the end of the rotation, the "on-off" effect suddenly appears. This is exactly the opposite of an audio pot with an ineffective taper. For more on this subject, read "Dialing in the Passive Tone Control."
Classic '60s Wiring
As you can see in Image 1 (middle diagram), in this configuration, the tone cap is still connected to the input of the volume pot, but on the tone pot the middle lug is now connected to ground. Electrically, the '60s wiring is completely identical to the modern wiring with the same tone, behavior, and problems. But there is one significant difference: In terms of shielding, the '60s wiring is superior to the modern wiring scheme. When electromagnetic interferences enter a guitar, they will also stray into the tone pot's unused pin and therefore into the middle lug (the wiper) in both wirings. With the wiper connected to ground, as in the '60s wiring, the interferences will stop at this point. But with the tone cap connected to the middle lug, like in the modern wiring, electromagnetic interferences will find their way through the cap and carry on.
So, compared to the modern wiring, the signal-to-noise ratio in the '60s wiring is superior. This is technical knowledge from yesteryear: The wiper of a variable resistor is connected to the low resistance part of the circuit. This knowledge was really important when designing and building tube amps, radios, and televisions, but is almost forgotten today.
So why did Gibson switch from the '60s to the modern wiring? My personal theory is that this allowed them to use pre-configured pots for both volume and tone, with the same third lug soldered to the case as the grounding point. I don't know if this is true, but if you know the reason or have another theory, please share it.
Vintage '50s Wiring
In closing, let's look at the almost legendary '50s wiring, which is by far the most discussed wiring scheme when it comes to Gibson guitars (Image 1 — bottom diagram). Here, the tone pot's middle lug is also connected to ground, like in the '60s wiring, so it also offers the benefit of superior signal-to-noise ratio. But in this case, the tone cap connects to the volume pot's output lug, rather than its input.
With the volume fully opened, the '50s wiring is identical to the modern wiring: In both versions, the tone circuit is galvanically connected to the pickup's output, so the behavior and operation are comparable. The magic starts when you turn down the volume. With the modern wiring, the tone circuit is still directly connected to the pickup, but with the '50s wiring, the tone circuit is uncoupled from the volume, which is now electrically located between the pickup and the tone circuit. Because the tone circuit can no longer react directly to the inductance of the pickup, no resonance superelevation and no resonance shift can happen at this point. With the tone pot almost closed, the bass frequencies will be relatively raised—perfect for creating the "woman tone" that's often associated with Cream-era Eric Clapton.
What's so special about the '50s wiring? It will influence the guitar's performance in three major ways:
- The overall tone gets stronger and more transparent. It's difficult to describe, but I think of it as more "in your face."
- The typical treble loss that occurs when rolling back the volume is greatly reduced, and both the volume and tone controls react more smoothly and evenly without the typical hot spots. As a side effect, it's easier to clean up an overdriven amp by simply rolling back the volume on your guitar a bit.
- The tone and volume controls interact with each other—something you may know from certain early Fender tube amps. When you change the volume, the tone also changes a little bit and vice versa. Such interaction may feel strange at first, but it only takes a few minutes to get used to.
People often talk about the magical tone of late-'50s sunburst Les Pauls. Well, part of this mojo is due to the '50s wiring. The guitar responds differently—notes seem to "bloom," as if they're opening up after leaving the guitar. Why not give it a try? You might love it.
Next time, we'll resume our exploration of different types of guitar wire and how to use and handle them, so stay tuned. Until then ... keep on modding!
[Updated 9/9/21]
- Mod Garage: The Fender Greasebucket Tone Circuit - Premier Guitar ›
- Grounding Passive Circuits, Part 2—Plus, How to Build a Solder Cage - Premier Guitar ›
- How to Install and Maintain Your Guitar's Pots - Premier Guitar ›
- Mod Garage: Four Ways to Configure a 4-Conductor Humbucker - Premier Guitar ›
- Mod Garage: Four Ways to Configure a 4-Conductor Humbucker - Premier Guitar ›
- Mod Garage: The Fender Greasebucket Tone Circuit - Premier Guitar ›
- Mod Garage: Decouple Your Les Paul’s Volume Controls - Premier Guitar ›
- DIY Relic’ing: Harmony Benton DC-Junior Electronics - Premier Guitar ›
- Auditioning Tone Capacitors, Part II - Premier Guitar ›
- What Does Phase and Polarity Mean for Your Guitar’s Pickups? - Premier Guitar ›
Guitarist William Tyler, a restless sonic explorer: “I would get bored staying in the same place.”
The expansive instrumental guitarist/composer pushes himself out of his comfort zone, beyond the boundaries of his neo-Americana wheelhouse on Time Indefinite.
Mastering an instrument and an artistic style—and then being recognized and rewarded for it—is a daunting enough accomplishment that one might be forgiven for feeling that, once reached, it’s the be-all to end-all. Guitarist William Tyler, for all the praise and opportunity that have come his way over the past decade and a half, isn’t content to plow the same furrow. With his evolutionary new album, Time Indefinite, this son of the South is pushing further afield, not completely forgoing his virtuosic neo-Americana lyricism but incorporating it into static-friendly, otherworldly studio experimentation.
The disorienting opener of Time Indefinite, “Cabin Six,” begins with a loop of hovering blare that, lasting nearly a minute, might lead listeners to think something is amiss with their turntable stylus; this gradually dissipates into an eddy of railroad-like whine from which a chiming 6-string hook emerges only to finally sink into a murky, detuned drone. The simple, lovely “Anima Motel” and almost naïve “Concern” are eminently approachable, and “Howling at the Second Moon,” with its alternate, Joni Mitchell-inspired tuning, feels like something that could have appeared on one of Tyler’s previous albums (even if it was recorded on his iPhone then texturized via a bump to a cassette recorder and dosed with added effects). But the distressed sonic sculptures of “The Hardest Land to Harvest” and “Electric Lake” or the sampled, distorted church choir laced through “Star of Hope” have a ghostly resonance unlike anything the guitarist has done before.
SoundStream
“I think it’s important for artists to push themselves into new ways of working,” Tyler says. “Most of my favorites, artists I follow over the long trajectory of their careers, have done that, whether it’s in music, film, visual art, novels. Of course, some people have a method or style that they stick to, and it serves them. And I wouldn’t want to put anything out into the world that I wouldn’t myself, as a consumer, enjoy spending time with and taking seriously. That said, I would get bored staying in the same place. The new record is about making something that was a little less chained to certain kinds of guitar music, where I felt like I might be running up against my creative limitations or enthusiasms in that area. I wanted to reinvent myself for myself, to explore fresh possibilities, even with the guitar as my primary tool.”
Tyler, whose parents were hitmaking Nashville songwriters, made his name early on as a young guitar phenom playing in such alternative-minded, country-influenced bands as Lambchop and Silver Jews, before appearing on the fourth volume of the influential Tompkins Square “Imaginational Anthem” series of new-era American Primitive guitar and then making his full-length debut as a solo artist with the 2010 album Behold the Spirit. As a player and composer, he was recognized for subsuming the early influence of John Fahey and the Takoma style into something vibrantly his own.
Tyler keeps his tools simple and his ears open.
Photo by Angelina Castillo
William Tyler’s Gear
Guitars
- Mid-1950s Martin D-18
- 1974 Gibson SG
Pedals
- Hologram Electronics Microcosm
- Strymon El Capistan
- Line 6 DL4 Mark II
Once Tyler signed to the stalwart indie-rock label Merge, the guitarist released a string of warmly received electro-acoustic albums: Impossible Truth (2013), Deseret Canyon (2015) and Modern Country (2016). There was also a marvel of a solo performance at Nashville’s Third Man Records released as an LP in the “Live at Third Man” series. A few years later came the album Goes West, its title alluding to a pre-pandemic move to Los Angeles, and its arrangements flecked with atmospheric swirls and sunny, almost pop-like touches. Tyler also created an aptly rustic score for First Cow, director Kelly Reichardt’s 2019 art house Western, and the guitarist capped his Merge run in 2023 with Secret Stratosphere, a live album of soaring full-band versions of numbers from his back catalog, credited to William Tyler’s Impossible Truth.
“I wanted to reinvent myself for myself, to explore fresh possibilities, even with the guitar as my primary tool.”
Tyler has released covers of such disparate artists as Alex Chilton, Michael Chapman, Fleetwood Mac, Yo La Tengo and Neu!/Harmonia’s Michael Rother, not to mention classical composers Handel and Dvorák. The broad listening palette suggested by these choices always pointed toward a more intrepid path. But the album that most presaged the spirit of Time Indefinite is New Vanitas, a small masterpiece of pandemic creation that found him threading beautiful, involved guitar melodies through hypnagogic soundscapes, often haunted by lo-fi snatches of radio broadcasts and sotto-voce dialogue, as on the evocatively titled “Slow Night’s Static.” New Vanitas even includes a woozy track called “Time Indefinite,” the foreshadowing title a favorite that he borrowed from a film by documentarian Ross McElwee.
On Time Indefinite, Tyler says, “I was drawn to more ambient music, including by guitarists like Christian Fennesz and Norman Westberg, but also groups like Stars of the Lid and Boards of Canada.”
Another signpost on Tyler’s new road was a collaboration with Four Tet’s Kieran Hebden that yielded the folktronica single “Darkness, Darkness.” Then last year brought the standalone track “Flight Final,” Tyler’s first release for the artist-led imprint Psychic Hotline, and a slice of musique concrète that brings to mind Brian Eno’s association with German “kosmische” pioneers Harmonia and Cluster. That recording, the first fruit of an association with collaborator and co-producer Jake Davis, set the stage for their work together on Time Indefinite. Most of the pieces on this album, whether blown-out lullabies or spectral hymns or folk-art abstractions, feel like memories refracted in a dream diary.
“The process of working on this album helped me get better at tempo, just feeling more comfortable playing slower.”
“The new album started out as a series of experiments, without necessarily thinking that they were going to make for a whole record—though, eventually, Jake and I heard a thematic coherence to what we were coming up with,” Tyler explains. “It took a long while to come together, but the roots of the music are in the Covid lockdown. The emotional landscape of that time changed the things I was listening to as well as the music that was coming out of me. I was drawn to more ambient music, including by guitarists like Christian Fennesz and Norman Westberg, but also groups like Stars of the Lid and Boards of Canada. I had gone back to Nashville and was dealing with a problematic mental state. Among other issues, I can tend to approach things too fast, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Beyond using different recording techniques and learning new ways of creating a piece of music, the process of working on this album helped me get better at tempo, just feeling more comfortable playing slower.”
The guitars Tyler used in the studio for Time Indefinite were his “family heirloom” Martin D-18 and a beloved Gibson SG, both of which are his main live instruments. For effects pedals, he favored a Hologram Electronics Microcosm (“for low-pass filter looping and really weird granular stuff”) and a Strymon El Capistan (“for delays kind of like the old Electro-Harmonix Memory Man”), though Davis also did a lot of processing with an array of his own. One serendipitous piece of gear was a 1959 Webcor Regent reel-to-reel machine deck that Tyler liberated, still new in the box, while helping to clear out his grandfather’s storage space in Mississippi. Davis was inspired to make old-school tape loops with it, including that startling sound that opens the album. Tyler would play arrhythmic, asymmetrical parts that Davis would record and chop up for the loops.
Tyler at this year’s Big Ears Festival with Jake Davis and Cecilia Stair.
Photo by Ross Bustin
Tyler’s recent spate of collaborations, from Davis and Four Tet to pedal-steel guitarist Luke Schneider, “has kept me on my toes, challenged me and recharged me,” he says. “The insularity of being a solo instrumentalist and writing everything by yourself can be freeing at first. And it can be motivating, as when I first started learning how to play fingerstyle guitar, with all the practicing. But I don’t like the isolation of it now. These days, I prefer working with other people. It pushes you into other genres, those different modes of communication.”
Another recent colleague, Marisa Anderson, has credited Tyler for his open, venturesome spirit as a studio partner, with his default attitude of “yes” when they were making their absorbing duo album, Lost Futures. “That was something I really enjoyed about playing with William—he was up for everything,” she said. “I was like, ‘There’s the diving board,’ and he’d say, ‘Let’s go.’”
“These days, I prefer working with other people. It pushes you into other genres, those different modes of communication.”
Tyler is quick to credit artists and albums that have inspired him. Along with the aforementioned players, he namechecks a vast range of others, from Jimmy Page to Jeff Parker, Bill Frisell to Fred Frith, Bruce Langhorne to Nels Cline, William Ackerman to Sandy Bull. Tyler muses about how some of his Nashville session heroes should “have gotten weirder…. I wish Chet Atkins had dropped acid, listened to a Sonny Sharrock LP, and made his own noise record, you know?” Regarding his touchstones for sonic left turns, he points to Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, as well as Talk Talk’s emotive, avant-minded swansongs Spirit of Eden and Laughingstock.
“Those two Talk Talk albums are beyond masterpieces, with some great guitar playing,” Tyler says. “They were in essence made by an artist, Mark Hollis, who did not care about being commercial anymore and certainly not about being able to replicate the stuff live. When Jake and I were recording ‘Howling at the Second Moon,’ that sort of attitude was a reference point, kind of like, ‘Well, instead of trying to get away from the lo-fi weirdness of my original iPhone demo, why don’t we lean into it?’”
Ever thoughtful and candid in conversation, Tyler has been exceptionally transparent about coping with personal loss and midlife crises, as well as going to rehab for the over-indulgence of alcohol. Knowing that, one can hear grief and anxiety in the whorls of Time Indefinite, with the passages of guileless 6-string representing a nostalgia for less complicated times. “It’s a mental landscape record for sure,” he says. “For fans of my previous albums, it might not hit the same way, I realize. But I hope this record says to people that it’s all right to take chances with how you express yourself, with how naked and raw that can be. It has a purposeful arc and is meant to prompt things that aren’t super fashionable in today’s ephemeral, constant-content culture, like deep listening, emotional ambiguity, self-reflection, you know?”YouTube It
This three-song set from last year showcases the expansive cosmic country sound of Tyler and his Impossible Truth band, which includes a Kraftwerk cover.
PG contributor Tom Butwin profiles three versatile - and affordable - acoustic guitars from Cort, Epiphone, and Gold Tone. These classic designs and appointments offer pro-level sound for an accessible price.
Cort Essence Series ES-GA4 Grand Auditorium Cutaway Acoustic Electric Guitar, Natural Semi Gloss (GA4NSG)
Epiphone Slash J-45 Acoustic Guitar - November Burst
The classic J-45 has been the choice of legendary musicians ever since it was first introduced in 1942. Known as The Workhorse, it is Gibson's most famous and most popular acoustic guitar model. Now Epiphone has released a new Inspired by Gibson"' J-45"' with all of the features players want, including all solid wood construction, a comfortable rounded C neck profile, 20 medium jumbo frets, the 60s style Kalamazoo headstock shape and a gorgeous Aged Vintage Sunburst finish. The Fishman® Sonicore under-saddle pickup and Sonitone preamp make this Workhorse stage-ready too. Optional hardshell or Epilite"' case available separately. A battery is not included. To power your pickup, you will need a 9-volt battery.
Gold Tone The Bell Acoustic-electric Guitar - Natural
Gold Tone’s Festival Series: The Bell stands out by blending classic craftsmanship with stage-ready versatility. Its all-solid wood construction—featuring a Sitka spruce top and mahogany back and sides—produces a rich, balanced tone that shines in any setting. The slope-shoulder design offers both comfort and clarity, perfect for fingerstyle or strumming. With a slim "D" neck, Fishman electronics, Grover tuners, and D’Addario strings, The Bell is crafted for players who demand tone, playability, and reliable performance—on stage or in the studio.
Tom Bedell in the Relic Music acoustic room, holding a custom Seed to Song Parlor with a stunning ocean sinker redwood top and milagro Brazilian rosewood back and sides.
As head of Breedlove and Bedell Guitars, he’s championed sustainability and environmental causes—and he wants to tell you about it.
As the owner of the Breedlove and Bedell guitar companies, Tom Bedell has been a passionate advocate for sustainable practices in acoustic guitar manufacturing. Listening to him talk, it’s clear that the preservation of the Earth’s forests are just as important to Bedell as the sound of his guitars. You’ll know just how big of a statement that is if you’ve ever had the opportunity to spend time with one of his excellently crafted high-end acoustics, which are among the finest you’ll find. Over the course of his career, Bedell has championed the use of alternative tonewoods and traveled the world to get a firsthand look at his wood sources and their harvesting practices. When you buy a Bedell, you can rest assured that no clear-cut woods were used.
A born storyteller, Bedell doesn’t keep his passion to himself. On Friday, May 12, at New Jersey boutique guitar outpost Relic Music, Bedell shared some of the stories he’s collected during his life and travels as part of a three-city clinic trip. At Relic—and stops at Crossroads Guitar and Art in Gilbertsville, Pennsylvania, and Chuck Levin’s Washington Music Center in Wheaton, Maryland—he discussed his guitars and what makes them so special, why sustainability is such an important cause, and how he’s putting it into practice.
Before his talk, we sat in Relic’s cozy, plush acoustic room, surrounded by a host of high-end instruments. We took a look at a few of the store’s house-spec’d Bedell parlors while we chatted.
“The story of this guitar is the story of the world,” Bedell explained to me, holding a Seed to Song Parlor. He painted a picture of a milagro tree growing on a hillside in northeastern Brazil some 500 years ago, deprived of water and growing in stressful conditions during its early life. That tree was eventually harvested, and in the 1950s, it was shipped to Spain by a company that specialized in church ornaments. They recognized this unique specimen and set it aside until it was imported to the U.S. and reached Oregon. Now, it makes the back and sides of this unique guitar.
A Bedell Fireside Parlor with a buckskin redwood top and cocobolo back and sides.
As for the ocean sinker redwood top, “I’m gonna make up the story,” Bedell said, as he approximated the life cycle of the tree, which floated in the ocean, soaking up minerals for years and years, and washed ashore on northern Oregon’s Manzanita Beach. The two woods were paired and built into a small run of exquisitely outfitted guitars using the Bedell/Breedlove Sound Optimization process—in which the building team fine-tunes each instrument’s voice by hand-shaping individual braces to target resonant frequencies using acoustic analysis—and Bedell and his team fell in love.
Playing it while we spoke, I was smitten by this guitar’s warm, responsive tone and even articulation and attack across the fretboard; it strikes a perfect tonal balance between a tight low-end and bright top, with a wide dynamic range that made it sympathetic to anything I offered. And as I swapped guitars, whether picking up a Fireside Parlor with a buckskin redwood top and cocobolo back and sides or one with an Adirondack spruce top and Brazilian rosewood back and sides, the character and the elements of each instrument changed, but that perfect balance remained. Each of these acoustics—and of any Bedell I’ve had the pleasure to play—delivers their own experiential thumbprint.
Rosette and inlay detail on an Adirondack spruce top.
Ultimately, that’s what brought Bedell out to the East Coast on this short tour. “We have a totally different philosophy about how we approach guitar-building,” Bedell effused. “There are a lot of individuals who build maybe 12 guitars a year, who do some of the things that we do, but there’s nobody on a production level.” And he wants to spread that gospel.
“We want to reach people who really want something special,” he continued, pointing out that for the Bedell line, the company specifically wants to work with shops like Relic and the other stores he’s visited, “who have a clientele that says I want the best guitar I can possibly have, and they carry enough variety that we can give them that.”
A Fireside Parlor with a Western red cedar top and Brazilian rosewood back and sides.
A beautifully realized mashup of two iconic guitars.
Reader: Ward Powell
Hometown: Ontario, Canada
Guitar: ES-339 Junior
I’ve always liked unusual guitars. I think it started when I got my first guitar way back in 1976. I bought a '73 Telecaster Deluxe for $200 with money I saved from delivering newspapers.
I really got serious about playing in 1978, the same year the first Van Halen album was released. Eddie Van Halen was a huge influence on me, including how he built and modded guitars. Inspired by Eddie, I basically butchered that Tele. But keep in mind, there was once a time when every vintage guitar was just a used guitar—I still have that Tele, by the way.
I never lost that spirit of wanting guitars that were unique, and have built and modded a few dozen guitars since. When I started G.A.S.-ing simultaneously for a Les Paul Junior and a Casino, I came up with this concept. I found an Epiphone ES-339 locally at a great price. It already had upgraded CTS pots, Kluson tuners, and the frets had been PLEK’d. It even came with a hardshell case. It was cheap because it was a right-handed guitar that had been converted to left handed and all the controls had been moved to the opposite side, so it had five additional holes in the top.
Fortunately, I found a Duesenberg wraparound bridge that used the same post spacing as a Tune-o-matic. I used plug cutters to cut plugs out of baltic birch plywood to fill the 12 holes in the laminated top. I also reshaped the old-style Epiphone headstock. Then, I sanded off the original finish, taped the fretboard, and sprayed the finish using cans of nitro lacquer from Oxford Guitar Supply. Lots of wet sanding and buffing later, the finish was done.
I installed threaded insert bushings for the bridge, so it will never pull out. The pickup is a Mojotone Quiet Coil P-90 and I fabricated a shim from a DIY mold and tinted epoxy to raise the P-90 up closer to the strings. The shim also covers the original humbucker opening. I cut a pickguard out of a blank and heated it slightly to bend it to follow the curvature of the top.
All in all, I'm pretty happy how it turned out! It plays great and sounds even better. And I have something that is unique: an ES-339 Junior.