
Richard Thompson received the OBE, Order of the British Empire, in 2011 for his “singular and substantial contribution to music.”
On his latest full-length, the English singer-songwriter reinforces his role as one of the 20th century’s greatest. Here, he muses on his musical roots, innovations, and rig essentials.
Any list of great British songwriters, from Lennon/McCartney, Ray Davies, and Pete Townshend to Elvis Costello, must contain Richard Thompson. But any discussion of England’s most impressive, identifiable guitar players (be they Clapton, Beck, Page, or Mick Taylor) also needs to include Thompson. And it’s a coin toss which 6-string he excels at more—acoustic or electric.
Richard Thompson - "Singapore Sadie"
Today the 75-year-old boasts a loyal, nay, rabid, multi-generational following, for whom originals like “Tear-Stained Letter,” “1952 Vincent Black Lightning,” and the much covered “Dimming of the Day” are classics. In 2011, Thompson received the OBE, Order of the British Empire, for his “singular and substantial contribution to music.”
If the “singer-songwriter” ID evokes an image of dead-end humming and strumming, Thompson’s ever-stunning guitar work demands taking notice. That’s been the case since his late-’60s folk-rock band, Fairport Convention, across numerous solo albums, live and studio, and collaborations with former wife Linda Thompson, and is clearly evident on his latest, Ship to Shore. As usual, moods and attitudes can be dark without being ghoulish (“If you should dream the dreams I dream / You’d never sleep again”), funny without getting cute (“A splash of Opium between her knees / Shops ’til she drops like it’s a disease”); cynical one moment, romantic the next—but most of all intelligent without being stuffy.
His Frets and Refrains guitar and songwriting retreat marks its 12th anniversary in July 2024, of which Thompson says, “It’s one of the high points of my year.”
Ship to Shore closes with an atypically straightforward ode to life on the road, “We Roll” (“We’re in this thing together, and we roll”)—somewhere on the sentimental scale between Willie’s “On the Road Again” and CCR’s “Travelin’ Band.” “You go on the road for a month and get home,” he reflects, “and even though it was musically wonderful, you’re a bit knackered. But after a week you think, ‘Can’t wait to get out there again.’ I just like playing live, and I love the idea of putting something across to an audience who’s appreciating what I’m trying to do. It’s a great feeling.”
Richard Thompson's Gear
Thompson holds an annual guitar and songwriting retreat called Frets and Refrains, which celebrates its 12th anniversary this July.
Photo by David Kaptein
Guitars
- Lowden Richard Thompson Signature with Sunrise pickup system
- Custom Stratocaster with early Rio Grande pickups
- Custom 12-string Telecaster
- ’66 Fender Stratocaster
Amps
- Ridge Farm Gas Cooker tube preamp (for acoustics)
- Divided by 13 FTR-37 with 2x12 cab (for electrics)
- Fender ’65 Deluxe Reverbs (for electrics)
Effects
For acoustics:
- Analog delay
- Vibrato pedal
For electrics:
- Divided by 13 Switchazel A/B box
- Fulltone OCD
- Fulltone tremolo
- Catalinbread Echorec
- Analog Man Sweet Sound MojoVibe
- EHX POG
- Ernie Ball volume pedal
- TC Electronic tuner
Strings & Picks
- Elixir Acoustic 80/20 Bronze (.012–.053)
- Elixir hybrid set (.008–.042) (for electrics)
For a certain generation of American musicians, their “Big Bang,” enticing them to take up guitar, was the Beatles’ appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show in February ’64. But that wasn’t broadcast in the U.K. What was your Big Bang?
Richard Thompson: I had a sister who was five years older than me. When I was 5 and she was 10, she had “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley. Subsequently, she had Gene Vincent records, Jerry Lee Lewis, and was a huge Buddy Holly fan. That was kind of a moment right there. In the U.K., you had the Shadows with Hank Marvin, who got a fantastic tone out of a Fender Stratocaster. Their records still sound amazing today. Hearing their first big hit, “Apache,” was the kind of moment where you say, “Okay, we have to start playing guitar and form a band.” They were kind of a Big Bang moment. So at about 11, I was in an instrumental band.
Then there were more subtle things. With the R&B bands around London, the Cyril Davies R&B All-Stars were a very seminal band. Some of the Stones kind of went through that band; Alexis Korner’s Blues Incorporated, same thing. Just being in London, you could hear jazz, country music, folk music, pop, R&B, any night of the week. That was a great experience.
It seems that, although the Beatles were a big deal, sometimes American musicians wanted to be more like the Rolling Stones—a certain generation did, anyway—who were a very good band, but a bit untogether for the most part. I thought in the U.K. there were better blues and R&B musicians.
People in America don’t realize how big the Shadows were globally.
Thompson: They were huge in Scandinavia, Germany, Japan, Australia. In Canada, Neil Young was a big Shadows fan. What amazes me is they were recording at EMI, basically the same studio that the Beatles were using a year or two later, and their records sound so good. The bass, the drums, everything sounds great. Hank Marvin was playing a Stratocaster through an AC15 or AC30 with a Meazzi tape echo, and just sounded brilliant. If you listen to an equivalent Ventures record from the same era, it sounds trashy and not well recorded.
“A lot of British traditional music wasn’t accompanied at all; it was just vocals. So there’s a bit of a mystery of how you harmonize it.”
Besides James Burton, were you influenced by any other hardcore country players?
Thompson: I love all that stuff. I fancy I might have been one of the earlier people in Britain to listen to imported country music. It was very unfashionable in the U.K. In Ireland and Scotland it was popular, but very hokey. I’d go to the import shop and find these really great records, like a pedal steel guitar compilation on Starday. Similarly, there’s a great country-jazz guitar compilation with people like Hank Garland and Thumbs Carllile. As for influential, it helped me to not sound like the blues guitarists who were around at the time. Players like James Burton were bending notes in more of a country way, which I thought was interesting, in some ways more relevant. I thought that the blues field when I was 18—there’s Peter Green, Eric Clapton, Mick Taylor—these U.K. blues guitarists were kind of slavishly imitating Buddy Guy and Otis Rush. I wanted to be a different kind of guitar player. So I took influence more from British traditional music, Celtic music, and country music.
In terms of rock guitarists who weren’t relying on blues licks, Jerry Garcia and David Lindley come to mind. But there aren’t a lot.
Thompson: To me, there’s a lot of mediocre white blues guitar players. They kind of claim the blues as their cultural heritage; that’s a bit iffy. The yardstick for me is, are they contributing anything new, and are they as good or better than the people they base their style on? Often the case is no. There are exceptions, like David Lindley and Ry Cooder, who are wonderful musicians. If you’re a great musician, you’re a great musician. If you’re saying something new or different, I think that’s a real achievement.
On Ship to Shore, Thompson explores moods ranging from dark to funny to cynical to romantic.
Were you always playing acoustic folk music and electric rock at the same time?
Thompson: Absolutely. Being in London was great for hearing those kinds of music. At folk clubs, you’d see really good acoustic guitar players, like Davy Graham, Bert Jansch, and Martin Carthy. I had a parallel interest in electric guitar as well. I suppose at the time it was more relevant, because you wanted to be a good contributor to a band.
Were you already experimenting in open tunings?
Thompson: I was, yeah. I was trying to find more elusive kinds of things, like Clarence Ashley doing old-timey music on banjo. I thought he must be tuned to a modal chord. Turns out he wasn’t, but it sounded like a suspended-4 tuning. I kind of discovered DADGAD on my own, not realizing that Davy Graham had discovered it about 10 years before I did. There are types of tunings Martin Carthy came up with, keeping the indeterminate atmosphere of a traditional song, where you don’t really know where the key is. You don’t want to nail it down; you’re killing the mood of the song. It’s nice to come upon a tuning where it sounds a bit more unresolved—not sure if it’s in D, G, or A. You can have the kind of chord shapes that suggest it’s in all three keys at once. A lot of British traditional music wasn’t accompanied at all; it was just vocals. So there’s a bit of a mystery of how you harmonize it. Having more ambiguous chords—suspended 2 or 4—helps to somehow convey the song in a more elusive way.
Your acoustic playing and electric playing don’t resemble each other in the way that a lot of players’ styles overlap.
Thompson: I’m playing fingerstyle on acoustic and electric. I don’t tend to strum too much on either instrument. I do more three-note clusters using hybrid picking. On acoustic, I’m just trying to accompany a song—whatever that requires. But they are different instruments, and I do approach them differently. I really developed my acoustic playing in the late ’70s, when I started to do solo gigs and wanted to get a bigger sound. So I started to use opening tunings and tried to develop the hybrid picking, to really try to sound almost like two guitar players, where you’re accompanying but still playing melodic figures over the top. On electric, I’ve got the luxury of having people hold down the rhythm and hold down the harmony, so I’m freer to play more single-note stuff and go where the music takes me. On acoustic, I’m a bit more chained down to what’s achievable as a soloist and what works as accompaniment.
Over the years, Thompson has mastered his sound on acoustic and electric, both of which he plays with a hybrid style of picking.
Photo by Matt Condon
Particularly on electric, you sometimes get very angular, aggressive, and even dissonant—yet you’re still categorized as folk.
Thompson: Yeah, usually [laughs]. I think I play the sum of my influences. Since I was a teenager, I listened to a lot of classical music. I started with the impressionist composers, like Ravel and Debussy. Then I worked my way backwards and forwards. Grabbing a bit of harmony from Stravinsky or Bach, or a kind of strange chromatic thing from Schoenberg is kind of normal within a folk framework, extending it.
On Fairport Convention’s third album, Unhalfbricking, we did a more extended song, “A Sailor’s Life.” It was a traditional song, but we brought it up to date. We decided to do more of that on the next album, Liege & Lief. Then I continued to do it as a solo artist. And I’m still there; it’s basically what I’m doing. If you have a strong base—I think of my base as being kind of Celtic traditional music—then I think you can extend in any direction. Remember, The Rite of Spring by Stravinsky is more than 100 years old. What we think of as dissonant should be acceptable in music in general—not just “that weird stuff.” That’s a long time to be weird [laughs]. As John Cage says, if it sounds dissonant, keep playing it ’til it sounds normal.
An extreme example of your “out there” side is your work with Henry Kaiser.
Thompson: I think he said once that his ambition was to make music that sounds like it’s from another planet. I think he achieves that [laughs]. His music is challenging, and he likes it that way. He’s starting out with some of the more discordant strains of 20th-century music. He’s an original, and really experimental, and he’s collaborated with interesting people. He went to Madagascar and to Scandinavia with David Lindley, and has a Miles Davis tribute band. His video shows are really great; the tribute to Lindley was lovely. Not enough people know about Lindley. Such a wonderful musician and a great character, too. Sometimes he’d phone me, and he’d either be himself or James Stewart or a Rastafarian—totally convincing. A fascinating human being and a really great musician.
What input did you have into your Lowden signature acoustic model?
Thompson: It’s my design, my wood choice: ziricote back and sides and a cedar top. It’s kind of loud, punchy, even-toned, and at the same time quite sweet-sounding. It’s got really good highs and lows. I’m very happy with it.
Lowden is achieving a high consistency—which I can’t say about every guitar manufacturer. I’ve got an S-32 and a Baby Lowden, which is wonderful, and a really interesting electric GL-10. It’s a solidbody electric, but the fretboard is the same as an acoustic. For an acoustic player to go electric, it’s a wonderful solution.
“What we think of as dissonant should be acceptable in music in general—not just ‘that weird stuff.’ That’s a long time to be weird.”
I’ve used a Sunrise pickup made by Jim Kaufman for about 35 years, and I’ve got a little condenser mic that sits inside the soundhole. So it’s two acoustic channels, and I put that into a Ridge Farm Gas Cooker tube preamp that I take on the road. That really warms up the signal. So the basic sound coming off the stage is the same every night.
You’ve been playing a red “parts” Strat for several years.
Thompson: My guitar tech, Bobby Eichorn, got that red Strat for me—which is fiesta red faded to kind of coral. The body and neck and pickups, which might be Santa Fe, are all from various places. It plays really well and sounds really good. Onstage, I use a Divided by 13 amp—which is sort of like a Fender circuit and a Vox circuit, and you can blend them. Mismatched speakers: Celestion Blue and Celestion Vintage 30. Ooh, I love talking technical [laughs]. In the studio, I use smaller amps, like an AC15 Vox or Fender Pro Reverb or Deluxe. I also use Headstrong amps with Celestions—basically a Princeton with a larger, 12" speaker.
Richard Thompson performs at the Beacon Theatre in New York City on April 20, 1985.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
In an online interview, record producer Val Garay, talking about Linda Ronstadt as an interpreter who never wrote songs, said he didn’t think songwriting could be taught.
Thompson: [Laughs]No, I don’t agree with that. Thinking of myself, I’m not good enough to write a symphony, and I’m not good enough to be a really good poet. But I am good enough to do a simpler form of lyric and a simpler form of music, and write songs. The combination of those two skills make you a good songwriter.
I hope it can be taught; otherwise, our camp is a complete waste of time. I don’t think we nail it down where you have to use this rhyme scheme or your subject matter has to be this or that. We have guest songwriters demonstrate their own methods, and that can be inspirational. Sometimes they teach broader points, so it’s up to you as a would-be writer to kind of find your own way. Point you in the right direction, rather than beating you over the head. The other thing we do is listen to attendees’ songs, and without getting too formalized about it say, “Just tweak this a tiny bit, and it’ll be in much better shape.” Somewhere like Nashville, it’s very formulaic: “If you want to be a good Nashville songwriter, this is what you do.” We try not to do that, and keep it looser.
The biggest difference I notice between professional and amateur songwriters is the hook lines. It sounds crude to say, but you can have a fairly abstract song, but if it has a really strong hook that people can remember, it makes a huge difference. The other thing is, if you’re going to write about your life—your pains, your sorrows—make sure it’s interesting for other people. So often people are kind of self-indulgent when they write songs—staring-at-your-shoes kind of songs. Don’t waste people’s time unless you really are finding some interesting commonality between you and the listener.
“I like to meet the muse halfway, in that sense. I don’t wait for lightning to strike.”
Does the guitar side of the retreat encompass all levels of expertise?
Thompson: Absolutely, from beginner to intermediate to advanced. And we teach mostly fingerstyle, to get people beyond just the strum, strum, strum, which is a bit boring. If they know how to strum, adding fingerpicking just gives more possibilities. You can do something more interesting, like a Maybelle Carter thing where you’re picking out the tune in the lower strings. If you can fingerpick, you can play whole melodic things.
You’ve written so many great songs. Have you ever suffered from writer’s block?
Thompson: Every day [laughs]—or every week anyway. Sometimes I’ll go a month without writing, and it’s frustrating. It’s part of the process. You feel frustrated, and then there’s suddenly a sense of release when you write something. To get around that, sometimes I just work on a few things at once. It might be a song I’m desperately trying to finish, but I’ll try other projects as well. If you hit a brick wall as a songwriter, you can stay there for weeks. If you’ve got three songs on the go, then you hit a brick wall and say, “I’ll just sidestep that and work on this other song.” Working on an album, I might have 12 songs in various stages of completion. And I like the fact that I can sit down every day, go through everything, a little bit here, a little bit there, and say, “That one’s finished; don’t need to touch it anymore.” I like to meet the muse halfway, in that sense. I don’t wait for lightning to strike.Richard Thompson 'Money Shuffle' (live acoustic performance)
Thompson’s vibrant, hybrid picking style, smart interpretation of traditional folk songwriting, and powerful vocals are on full display in this live performance of “Money Shuffle” at Goldmark Gallery in Uppingham, England, in 2010.
YouTube Search Term: Richard Thompson ‘Money Shuffle’ (live acoustic performance)
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On our season two finale, the country legend details his lead-guitar tricks on one of his biggest hits.
Get out the Kleenex, hankies, or whatever you use to wipe away your tears: It’s the last episode of this season of Shred With Shifty, a media event more consequential and profound than the finales of White Lotus and Severance combined. But there’ll be some tears of joy, too, because on this season two closer, Chris Shiflett talks with one of country music’s greatest players: Vince Gill.
Gill’s illustrious solo career speaks for itself, and he’s played with everyone from Reba McEntire and Patty Loveless to Ricky Skaggs and Dolly Parton. He even replaced Glenn Frey in the Eagles after Frey’s death in 2017. His singing prowess is matched by his grace and precision on the fretboard, skills which are on display on the melodic solo for “One More Last Chance.” He used the same blackguard 1953 Fender Telecaster that you see in this interview to record the lead, although he might not play the solo the exact way he did back in 1992.
Tune in to learn how Gill dialed his clean tone with a tip from Roy Nichols, why he loves early blackguard Telecasters and doesn’t love shredders, and why you never want to be the best player during a studio session.
If you’re able to help, here are some charities aimed at assisting musicians affected by the fires in L.A:
https://guitarcenterfoundation.org
https://www.cciarts.org/relief.html
https://www.musiciansfoundation.org
https://fireaidla.org
https://www.musicares.org
https://www.sweetrelief.org
Credits
Producer: Jason Shadrick
Executive Producers: Brady Sadler and Jake Brennan for Double Elvis
Engineering Support by Matt Tahaney and Matt Beaudion
Video Editor: Addison Sauvan
Graphic Design: Megan Pralle
Special thanks to Chris Peterson, Greg Nacron, and the entire Volume.com crew.
New RAT Sound Solution Offers a Refined Evolution of Distortion
ACT Entertainment ’s iconic RAT brand has unveiledthe Sterling Vermin, a boutique distortion guitar pedal that blends heritage tone with modernrefinement. With a new take on RAT’s unmistakable sound, Sterling Vermin delivers a new levelof precision and versatility.
“The Sterling Vermin was born from a desire for something different — something refined, withthe soul of a traditional RAT pedal, but with a voice all its own,” says Shawn Wells, MarketManager—Sound, ACT Entertainment, who designed the pedal along with his colleague MattGates. “Built in small batches and hand-soldered in ACT’s Jackson, Missouri headquarters, theSterling Vermin is a work of pure beauty that honors the brand legacy while taking a bold stepforward for creativity.”
The Sterling Vermin features the LM741 Op-Amp and a pair of selectable clipping diodes.Players can toggle between the traditional RAT silicon diode configuration for a punchy, mid-range bite, or the BAT41 option for a smoother, more balanced response. The result is a pedalthat’s equally at home delivering snarling distortion or articulate, low-gain overdrive, with a wide,usable tonal range throughout the entire gain spectrum.
The pedal also features CTS pots and oversized knobs for even, responsive control that affordsa satisfying smoothness to the rotation, with just the right amount of tension. Additionally, thepolished stainless-steel enclosure with laser-annealed graphics showcases the merging of thepedal’s vintage flavor and striking design.
“From low-gain tones reminiscent of a Klon or Bluesbreaker, to high-gain settings that flirt withBig Muff territory — yet stay tight and controlled — the Sterling Vermin is a masterclass indynamic distortion,” says Gates, an ACT Entertainment Sales Representative. “With premiumcomponents, deliberate design and a focus on feel, the Sterling Vermin is more than a pedal, it’sa new chapter for RAT.”
The RAT Sterling Vermin is available immediately and retails for $349 USD. For moreinformation about this solution, visit: actentertainment.com/rat-distortion .
The Miku was introduced about 10 years ago and is based on the vocal stylings of Hatsune Miku, a virtual pop icon. But it does much more than artificial vowels and high-pitched words.
It’s tempting to think of this pedal as a joke. Don’t.
It all started a few years ago through a trade with a friend. I just wanted to help him out—he really wanted to get a fuzz pedal but didn’t have enough cash, so he offered up the Korg Miku. I had no idea then, but it turned out to be the best trade I’ve ever made.
Here’s the truth: the Korg Miku is not your typical guitar pedal. It won’t boost your mids, sculpt your gain, or serve up that warm, buttery overdrive you’ve always worshipped. Nope. This little box does something entirely different: It sings! Yes, sings in a Japanese kawaii accent that’s based on the signature voice of virtual pop icon Hatsune Miku.
At first glance, it’s tempting to dismiss this pedal as just a gimmick—a joke, a collector’s oddity, the kind of thing you buy for fun and then forget next to your Hello Kitty Strat. But here’s the twist: Some take it seriously and I’m one of those people.
I play in a punk band called Cakrux, and lately I’ve been working with a member of a Japanese idol-style girl group—yeah, it’s exactly the kind of wild mashup you’d ever imagine. Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, the Miku found its way into my setup, and weirdly enough, it stuck. It’s quirky, beautiful, occasionally maddening, and somehow … just right. After plenty of time spent in rehearsals, studio takes, and more sonic experiments than I care to admit, I’ve come to appreciate this pedal in unexpected ways. So here are a few things you probably didn’t know about this delightfully strange little box.
It’s Not Organic—and That’s OK
Most guitar pedals are chasing something real. Wah pedals mimic the human voice—or even a trumpet. Tube Screamers? They’re built to recreate the warm push of an overdriven tube amp. Cab sims aim to replicate the tone of real-world speaker setups. But the Miku? It breaks the mold. Instead of emulating reality, it channels the voice of a fictional pop icon. Hatsune Miku isn’t a person—she’s a vocaloid, a fully digital creation made of samples and synthesis. The Miku doesn’t try to sound organic, it tries to sound like her. In that sense, it might be the only pedal trying to reproduce something that never existed in the physical world. And honestly, there’s something oddly poetic about that.
A World-Class Buffer
Here’s a fun fact: I once saw a big-name Indonesian session guitarist—you know, the kind who plays in sold-out arenas—with a Miku pedal on his board. I was like, “No way this guy’s busting out vocaloid lines mid-solo.” Plot twist: He only uses it for the buffer. Yep, the man swears by it and says it’s the best-sounding buffer he’s ever plugged into. I laughed … until I tried it. And honestly? He’s not wrong. Even if you never hear Miku sing a note, this pedal still deserves a spot on your board. Just for the tone mojo alone. Wild, right?
“The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn’t work for your music, but somehow, it just does.”
Impossible to Tame
Most pedals are built to make your life easier. The Miku? Not so much. This thing demands patience—and maybe a little spiritual surrender. First off, the tracking can be finicky, especially if you’re using low-output pickups. Latency becomes really noticeable and your picking dynamics suddenly matter a lot more. Then there’s the golden rule I learned the hard way. Never—ever—put anything before the Miku. No fuzz, no wah, no compressor, not even a buffer! It gets confused instantly and says “What is going on here?” And don’t even think about punching in while recording. The vocal results are so unpredictable, you’ll never get the same sound twice. Mess up halfway? You’re starting from scratch. Same setup, same take, same chaotic energy. It’s like trying to recreate a fever dream. Good luck with that.
Full Range = Full Power
Sure, it’s made for guitar, but the Miku really comes to life when you run it through a keyboard amp, bass cab, or even a full-range speaker. Why? Because her voice covers way more frequency range than a regular guitar speaker can handle. Plug it into a PA system or a bass rig, and everything sounds clearer, richer, way more expressive. It’s like letting Hatsune Miku out of her cage.
The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn't work for your music, but somehow, it just does. Is it the best pedal out there? Nah. Is it practical? Not by a long shot. But every time I plug it in, I can’t help but smile. It’s unpredictable, a little wild, and it feels like you’re jamming in the middle of a bizarre Isekai anime scene. And honestly, that’s what makes it fun.
This thing used to go for less than $100. Now? It’s fetching many times that. Is it worth the price? That’s up to you. But for me, the Korg Miku isn’t just another pedal—it’s a strange, delightful journey I’m glad I didn’t skip. No regrets here.
Two guitars, two amps, and two people is all it takes to bring the noise.
The day before they played the coveted Blue Room at Third Man Records in Nashville, the Washington, D.C.-based garage-punk duo Teen Mortgage released their debut record, Devil Ultrasonic Dream. Not a bad couple of days for a young band.
PG’s Chris Kies caught up with guitarist and vocalist James Guile at the Blue Room to find out how he builds the band’s bombastic guitar attack.
Brought to you by D’Addario.
Devilish Dunable
Guile has been known to use Telecasters and Gretsches in the past, but this time out he’s sticking with this Dunable Cyclops DE, courtesy of Gwarsenio Hall—aka Jordan Olds of metal-themed comedy talk show Two Minutes to Late Night. Guile digs the Dunable’s lightness on his shoulders, and its balance of high and low frequencies.
Storm Warning
What does Guile like about this Squier Cyclone? Simple: its color. This one is also nice and easy on the back, and Guile picked it up from Atomic Music in Beltsville, Maryland.
Crushing It
Guile also scooped this Music Man 410-HD from Atomic, which he got just for this tour for a pretty sweet deal. It runs alongside an Orange Crush Bass 100 to rumble out the low end.
James Guile’s Pedalboard
The Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and Hiwatt Filter Fuzz MkII run to the Orange, while everything else—a DigiTech Whammy, Pro Co Lil’ RAT, and Death by Audio Echo Dream 2—runs to the Music Man. A TC Helicon Mic Mechanic is on board for vocal assistance, and a TC Electronic PolyTune 3, Morley ABY, and Voodoo Labs Pedal Power 3 Plus keep the ship afloat.