
Andy Powers has been working with electric guitars his whole life, and he’s been slowly collecting all the ideas that could go into his own “solo project,” waiting for the right time to strike.
His work as designer, guitar conceptualist, and CEO of Taylor Guitars is well-established. But when he set out to create the electric guitar he’d been dreaming about his whole life, this master luthier needed to set himself apart.
Great design starts with an idea, a concept, some groundbreaking thought to do something. Maybe that comes from a revelation or an epiphany, appearing to its creator in one fell swoop, intact and ready to be brought into the real world. Or maybe it’s a germ that sets off a slow-drip process that takes years to coalesce into a clear vision. And once it’s formed, the journey from idea to the real world is just as open-ended, with any number of obstacles getting in the way of making things happen.
As CEO, president, and chief guitar designer of Taylor Guitars, Andy Powers has an unimaginable amount of experience sifting through his ideas and, with a large production mechanism at hand, efficiently and effectively realizing them. He knows that there are great ideas that need more time, and rethinking electric guitar design—from the neck to the pickups to how its hollow body is constructed—doesn’t come quickly. His A-Type—which has appeared in Premier Guitarin the hands of guitarists Andy Summers and Duane Denison of the Jesus Lizard—is the innovative flagship model of his new brand, Powers Electric. And it’s the culmination of a lifetime of thought, experience, and influences.
“Southern California is a birthplace of a lot of different things. I think of it as the epicenter of electric guitar.”
“I’ve got a lot of musician friends who write songs and have notebooks of ideas,” explains Powers. “They go, ‘I’ve got these three great verses and a bridge, but no chorus. I’ll just put it on the shelf; I’ll come back to it.’ Or ‘I’ve got this cool hook,’ or ‘I’ve got this cool set of chord changes,’ or whatever it might be—they’re half-finished ideas. And once in a while, you take them off the shelf, blow the dust off, and go, ‘That’s a really nice chorus. Maybe I should write a couple of verses for it someday. But not today.’ And they put it back.”
That’s how his electric guitar design spent decades collecting in Powers’ head. There were influences that he wanted to play with that fell far afield from his acoustic work at Taylor, and he saw room to look at some technical aspects of the instrument a little differently, with his own flair.
The Powers Electric A-Type draws from Powers’ lifelong influences of cars, surfing, and skateboarding.
Over the course of Powers’ “long personal history” with the instrument, he’s built, played, restored, and repaired electric guitars. And, having grown up in Southern California, surrounded by custom-car culture, skateboarding, and surfing—all things he loves—he sees the instrument as part of his design DNA.
“Southern California is a birthplace of a lot of different things,” Powers explains. “I think of it as the epicenter of electric guitar. Post-World War II, you had Leo Fender and Paul Bigsby and Les Paul—all these guys living within just a couple of miles of each other. And I grew up in those same sorts of surroundings.”
Those influences and the ideas about what to do with them kept collecting without a plan to take action. “At some point,” he says, “you need the catalyst to go, ‘Hey, you know what? I actually have the entire guitar’s worth of ideas sitting right in front of me, and they all go together. I would want to play that guitar if it existed. Now is a good time to build that guitar.’”
“I started thinking, ‘If I had been alive then, what would I have made?’ It’s kind of an open-ended question, because at that point, well, there’s no parts catalogs to buy stuff from. A lot of these things hadn’t been invented yet. How would you interpret this?”
The pandemic ultimately served as the catalyst Powers’ electric guitars needed, and that local history proved to be a jumping-off point necessary for focusing his long-marinating ideas. “I started thinking, ‘If I had been alive then, what would I have made?’ It’s kind of an open-ended question, because at that point, well, there’s no parts catalogs to buy stuff from. A lot of these things hadn’t been invented yet. How would you interpret this? As a designer, I think that’s really interesting. Overlay that with understanding what happens to electric guitars and how people want to use them, as well as some acoustic engineering. Well, that’s pretty fascinating. That’s an interesting mix.”
Tucked away in his home workshop, Powers set about designing a guitar, building “literally every little bit other than a couple screws” including handmade and hand-polished knobs. Soon, the prototype for the Powers Electric A-Type was born. “I played this guitar and went, ‘I’ve been waiting a long time to play this guitar.’ A friend played it and went, ‘I want one, too.’ Okay, I’ll make another one. Made two more. Made three more….”
The A-Type—seen here with both vibrato and hardtail—is a fully hollow guitar that is built in what Powers calls a “hot-rod shop” on the Taylor Guitars campus.
From there, Powers recalls that he started bringing his ideas back to his shop on Taylor’s campus, where he set up “essentially a small hot-rod shop” to build these new guitars. “It’s a real small-scale operation,” he explains. “It exists here at Taylor Guitars, but in its own lane.”
The A-Type—currently the only planned Powers Electric model—has the retro appeal of classic SoCal electrics. Its single-cut body style is unique but points to the curvature of midcentury car designs, and the wide range of vibrant color options help drive that home. Conceptually, the idea of reinventing each piece of the guitar’s hardware points toward the instrument’s creators. That might get a vintage guitar enthusiast’s motor running, but it’s in the slick precision of those parts—from the bridge and saddle to the pickup components—where the A-Type’s modernism shines.
“It’s a real small-scale operation. It exists here at Taylor Guitars, but in its own lane.”
Grabbing hold of the guitar, it’s clearly an instrument living on the contemporary cutting edge. The A-Type’s neck gives the clearest indication that it’s a high-performance machine; it’s remarkably easy to fret, with low action but just enough bite across the board. Powers put a lot of thought into the fretboard dynamics that make that so, and he decided to create a hybrid radius. “You have about a 9 1/2" radius, which is really what your hand feels, but then under the plain strings, it’s a bit flatter at 14, 15-ish—it’s so subtle, it’s really tough to measure.” Without reading the specs and talking to Powers, I don’t know that I would detect the difference—and I certainly didn’t upon first try. It just felt easy to play precisely without losing character or veering into “shredder guitar” territory.
The A-Type looks like a solidbody, but you’ll know it’s hollow by its light, balanced weight. That makes it comfortable to hold, whether standing or sitting. But its hollow-ness is no inhibitor to style: I’ve yet to provoke any unintended feedback from any of my amps. Powers explains that’s part of the design, which uses V-class bracing, similar to what you’ll find on a modern Taylor acoustic.Powers says the A-Type that is now being produced is no different than the prototype he built in his home workshop: “I have the blueprint, still, that I hand drew. I can hold the guitar that we’re making up against that drawing, and it would be like I traced over it.”
“Coupling the back and the top of the guitar matter a lot,” he asserts. “When you do that, you can make them move in parallel so that they are not prone to feeding back on stage. You don’t actually have that same Helmholtz resonance going on that makes a hollowbody guitar feedback. It’s still moving.”
On a traditional hollowbody, he points out, the top and back move independently, compressing the air inside the body. “It’ll make one start to run away by re-amplifying its own sound,” he explains. “But if I can make them touch each other, then they move together as a unit. When they do that, you’re not compressing the air inside the body. But it’s still moving. So, you get this dynamic resonance that you want out of a hollowbody guitar; it’s just not prone to feedback.”
What I hear from the A-Type is a rich, dynamic tone, full of resonance, sustain, and volume. I found it to be surprisingly loud and vibrant when unplugged. Powers tells me that’s in part due to the “stressed spherical top” and explains, “I take this piece of wood and I stress it into a sphere, which unnaturally raises its resonant frequency well above what the piece of wood normally could. It’s kind of sprung, ready to set in motion as soon as you strike the string. So, it becomes a mechanical amplifier.” The bridge then sits in two soundposts, which Powers says makes it “almost like a cello.”
“Literally every little bit other than a couple screws” on the A-Type is custom made.
The single-coil pickups take it from there. They’re available in two variations, Full Faraday and Partial Faraday, the latter of which were in my demo model, and Powers tells me they are the brighter option. Their design, he says, has been in progress for about seven or eight years. The concept behind the pickups is to use the “paramagnetic quality of aluminum”—found in the pickup housing—“to shape the magnetic field … which functions almost like a Faraday cage.” And he complements them with a simple circuit on the way out.
I found them to run quietly, as promised, and offer a transparent tone with plenty of headroom. They paired excellently with the ultra-responsive playability and feel of the guitar, so I could play as dynamically as I desired. If a standard solidbody with single-coils offers the performance of a practical sedan, this combo gave the A-Type the feel of a well-tuned racecar. At low volumes and with no pedals, it felt like I was simply amplifying the guitar’s acoustic sound, and I had full control with nothing but my pick. (Powers explains that the pickups have a wide resonance peak, which plays out to my ear.) Add pedals to the mix, including distortion and fuzz, and that translates to an articulated, hi-fi sound.
Now up to serial number XXX, the Powers Electric team has refined their production process. I wonder about that first guitar, the dream guitar Powers built in his house. How similar is the guitar I’m holding to his original vision? “It’s very, very, very close,” Powers tells me. “Literally, this guitar outline is a tracing. It’s an exact duplicate of what I first drew on paper with a pencil. I have the blueprint, still, that I hand drew. I can hold the guitar that we’re making up against that drawing, and it would be like I traced over it.”
“It’s one of those things you do because you just really want to do it. It puts some spark in your life.”
Playing the guitar and, later, talking through its features, I’m left with few questions. But one that remains has to do with branding and marketing, not the instrument: Why go to all the effort to create a new brand for the A-Type, which is to say, why isn’t this a Taylor? For Powers, it’s about design. “As guitar players,” he explains, “we know what Taylor guitars are, we know what it stands for, and we know what we do. The design language of a Taylor guitar is a very specific thing. When I look at a Taylor acoustic guitar, I go, ‘I need curves like this, I need colors like this, I need shapes like this.’”
Those aren’t the same curves, colors, and shapes as the Powers Electric design, nor do they mine the same influences. “There’s a look and a feel to what a Taylor is. And that is different from this. I look at this and go, ‘It’s not the same.’”
Of course, adding the A-Type to the well-established Taylor catalog would probably be easier in lots of ways, but Powers’ positioning of the brand is a sign of his dedication to the project. It feels like a labor of love. “They’re guitars that I really wanted to make,” he tells me enthusiastically. “And I’m excited that they get to exist. It’s one of those things you do because you just really want to do it. It puts some spark in your life.”
“It’s like a solo project,” he continues. “As musicians, you front this band, you do this thing, and you also like these other kinds of music and you’ve got other musician friends, and you want to do something that’s a different flavor. You try to make some space to do that, too.”
Onstage, Tommy Emmanuel executes a move that is not from the playbook of his hero, Chet Atkins.
Recorded live at the Sydney Opera House, the Australian guitarist’s new album reminds listeners that his fingerpicking is in a stratum all its own. His approach to arranging only amplifies that distinction—and his devotion to Chet Atkins.
Australian fingerpicking virtuoso Tommy Emmanuel is turning 70 this year. He’s been performing since he was 6, and for every solo show he’s played, he’s never used a setlist.
“My biggest decision every day on tour is, ‘What do I want to start with? How do I want to come out of the gate?’” Emmanuel explains to me over a video call. “A good opener has to have everything. It has to be full of surprise, it has to have lots of good ideas, lots of light and shade, and then, hit it again,” he says, illustrating each phrase with his hands and ending with a punch.“You lift off straightaway with the first song, you get airborne, you start reaching, and then it’s time to level out and take people on a journey.”
In May 2023, Emmanuel played two shows at the Sydney Opera House, the best performances from which have been combined on his new release, Live at the Sydney Opera House. The venue’s Concert Hall, which has a capacity of 2,679, is a familiar room for Emmanuel, but I think at this point in his career he wouldn’t bring a setlist if he was playing Wembley Stadium. On the recording, Emmanuel’s mind-blowingly dexterous chops, distinctive attack and flair, and knack for culturally resonant compositions are on full display. His opening song for the shows? An original, “Countrywide,” with a segue into Chet Atkins’ “El Vaquero.”
“When I was going to high school in the ’60s, I heard ‘El Vaquero’ on Chet Atkins’ record, [1964’s My Favorite Guitars],” Emmanuel shares. “And when I wrote ‘Countrywide’ in around ’76 or ’77, I suddenly realized, ‘Ah! It’s a bit like “El Vaquero!”’ So I then worked out ‘El Vaquero’ as a solo piece, because it wasn’t recorded like that [by Atkins originally].
“The co-writer of ‘El Vaquero’ is Wayne Moss, who’s a famous Nashville session guy who played ‘da da da’ [sings the guitar riff from Roy Orbison’s ‘Pretty Woman’]. And he played on a lot of Chet’s records as a rhythm guy. So once when I played ‘El Vaquero’ live, Wayne Moss came up to me and said, ‘You know, you did my part and Chet’s at the same time. That’s not fair!’” Emmanuel says, laughing.
Atkins is the reason Emmanuel got into performing. His mother had been teaching him rhythm guitar for a couple years when he heard Atkins on the radio and, at 6, was able to immediately mimic his fingerpicking technique. His father recognized Emmanuel’s prodigious talent and got him on the road that year, which kicked off his professional career. He says, “By the time I was 6, I was already sleep-deprived, working too hard, and being forced to be educated. Because all I was interested in was playing music.”
Emmanuel talks about Atkins as if the way he viewed him as a boy hasn’t changed. The title Atkins bestowed upon him, C.G.P. (Certified Guitar Player), appears on Emmanuel’s album covers, in his record label (C.G.P. Sounds), and is inlaid at the 12th fret on his Maton Custom Shop TE Personal signature acoustic. (Atkins named only five guitarists C.G.P.s. The others are John Knowles, Steve Wariner, Jerry Reed, and Atkins himself.) For Emmanuel, even today most roads lead to Atkins.
When I ask Emmanuel about his approach to arranging for solo acoustic guitar, he says, “It was really hit home for me by my hero, Chet Atkins, when I read an interview with him a long time ago and he said, ‘Make your arrangement interesting.’ And I thought, ‘Wow!’ Because I was so keen to be true to the composer and play the song as everyone knows it. But then again, I’m recreating it like everyone else has, and I might as well get in line with the rest of them and jump off the cliff into nowhere. So it struck me: ‘How can I make my arrangements interesting?’ Well, make them full of surprises.”
When Emmanuel was invited to contribute to 2015’s Burt Bacharach: This Guitar’s in Love with You, featuring acoustic-guitar tributes to Bacharach’s classic compositions by various artists, Emmanuel expresses that nobody wanted to take “(They Long to Be) Close to You,” due to its “syrupy” nature. But for Emmanuel, this presented an entertaining challenge.
He explains, “I thought, ‘Okay, how can I reboot “Close to You?’ So even the most jaded listener will say, ‘Holy fuck—I didn’t expect that! Wow, I really like that; that is a good melody!’ So I found a good key to play the song in, which allowed me to get some open notes that sustain while I move the chords. Then what I did is, in every phrase, I made the chord unresolve, then resolve.
Tommy Emmanuel's Gear
“I’m writing music for the film that’s in my head,” Emmanuel says. “So, I don’t think, ‘I’m just the guitar,’ ever.”
Photo by Simone Cecchetti
Guitars
- Three Maton Custom Shop TE Personals, each with an AP5 PRO pickup system
Amps
- Udo Roesner Da Capo 75
Effects
- AER Pocket Tools preamp
Strings & Picks
- Martin TE Signature Phosphor Bronze (.012–.054)
- Martin SP strings
- Ernie Ball Paradigm strings
- D’Andrea Pro Plec 1.5 mm
- Dunlop medium thumbpicks
“And then to really put the nail in the coffin, at the end, ‘Close to you’ [sings melody]. I finished on a major 9 chord which had that note in it, but it wasn’t the key the song was in, which is a typical Stevie Wonder trick. All the tricks I know, the wonderful ideas that I’ve stolen, are from Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Lionel Richie, James Taylor, Carole King, Neil Diamond. All of the people who wrote really incredibly great pop songs and R&B music—I stole every idea I could, and I tried to make my little two-and-a -half minutes as interesting and entertaining as possible. Because entertainment equals: Surprise me.”
I share with Emmanuel that the performances on Live at the Sydney Opera House, which include his popular “Beatles Medley,” reminded me of another possible arrangement trick. In Harpo Marx’s autobiography, Harpo Speaks, I preface, Marx writes of a lesson he learned as a performer—to “answer the audience’s questions.” (Emmanuel says he’s a big fan of the book and read it in the early ’70s.) That happened for me while listening to the medley, when, after sampling melodies from “She’s a Woman” and “Please Please Me,” Emmanuel suddenly lands on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.”
I say, “I’m waiting for something that hits more recognizably to me, and when ‘While My Guitar’ comes in, that’s like answering my question.”
“It’s also Paul and John, Paul and John, George,” Emmanuel replies. “You think, ‘That’s great, that’s great pop music,’ then, ‘Wow! Look at the depth of this.’”Often Emmanuel’s flights on his acoustic guitar are seemingly superhuman—as well as supremely entertaining.
Photo by Ekaterina Gorbacheva
A trick I like to employ as a writer, I say to Emmanuel, is that when I’m describing something, I’ll provide the reader with just enough context so that they can complete the thought on their own.
“You can do that musically as well,” says Emmanuel. He explains how, in his arrangement of “What a Wonderful World,” he’ll play only the vocal melody. “When people are asking me at a workshop, ‘How come you don’t put chords behind that part?’ I say, ‘I’m drawing the melody and you’re putting in all the background in your head. I don’t need to tell you what the chords are. You already know what the chords are.’”
“Wayne Moss came up to me and said, ‘You know, you did my part and Chet’s at the same time. That’s not fair!’”
Another track featured on Live at the Sydney Opera House is a cover of Paul Simon’s “American Tune” (which Emmanuel then jumps into an adaptation of the Australian bush ballad, “Waltzing Matilda”). It’s been a while since I really spent time with There GoesRhymin’ Simon (on which “American Tune” was first released), and yet it sounded so familiar to me. A little digging revealed that its melody is based on the 17th-century Christian hymn, “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” which was arranged and repurposed by Bach in a few of the composer’s works. The cross-chronological and genre-lackadaisical intersections that come up in popular music sometimes is fascinating.
“I think the principle right there,” Emmanuel muses, “is people like Bach and Beethoven and Mozart found the right language to touch the heart of a human being through their ears and through their senses ... that really did something to them deep in their soul. They found a way with the right chords and the right notes, somehow. It could be as primitive as that.
Tommy Emmanuel has been on the road as a performing guitarist for 64 years. Eat your heart out, Bob Dylan.
Photo by Jan Anderson
“It’s like when you’re a young composer and someone tells you, ‘Have a listen to Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind,”’ he continues. “‘Listen to how those notes work with those chords.’ And every time you hear it, you go, ‘Why does it touch me like that? Why do I feel this way when I hear those chords—those notes against those chords?’ I say, it’s just human nature. Then you wanna go, ‘How can I do that!’” he concludes with a grin.
“You draw from such a variety of genres in your arrangements,” I posit. “Do you try to lean into the side of converting those songs to solo acoustic guitar, or the side of bridging the genre’s culture to that of your audience?”
“I stole every idea I could, and I tried to make my little two-and-a-half minutes as interesting and entertaining as possible. Because entertainment equals: Surprise me.”
“If I was a method actor,” Emmanuel explains, “what I’m doing is—I’m writing music for the film that’s in my head. So, I don’t think, ‘I’m just the guitar,’ ever. I always think it has to have that kind of orchestral, not grandeur, but … palette to it. Because of the influence of Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, and Elton John, especially—the piano guys—I try to use piano ideas, like putting the third in the low bass a lot, because guitar players don’t necessarily do that. And I try to always do something that makes what I do different.
“I want to be different and recognizable,” he continues. “I remember when people talked about how some players—you just hear one note and you go, ‘Oh, that’s Chet Atkins.’ And it hit me like a train, the reason why a guy like Hank Marvin, the lead guitar player from the Shadows.... I can tell you: He had a tone that I hear in other players now. Everyone copied him—they just don’t know it—including Mark Knopfler, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, all those people. I got him up to play with me a few times when he moved to Australia, and even playing acoustic, he still had that sound. I don’t know how he did it, but it was him. He invented himself.”
YouTube It
Emmanuel performs his arrangement of “What a Wonderful World,” illustrating how omitting a harmonic backdrop can have a more powerful effect, especially when playing such a well-known melody.
Guest columnist Dave Pomeroy, who is also president of Nashville’s musicians union, with some of his friends.
Dave Pomeroy, who’s played on over 500 albums with artists including Emmylou Harris, Elton John, Trisha Yearwood, Earl Scruggs, and Alison Krauss, shares his thoughts on bass playing—and a vision of the future.
From a very young age, I was captivated by music. Our military family was stationed in England from 1961 to 1964, so I got a two-year head start on the Beatles starting at age 6. When Cream came along, for the first time I was able to separate what the different players were doing, and my focus immediately landed on Jack Bruce. He wrote most of the songs, sang wonderfully, and drove the band with his bass. Playing along with Cream’s live recordings was a huge part of my initial self-training, and I never looked back.
The electric bass has a much shorter history than most instruments. I believe that this is a big reason why the evolution of bass playing continues in ways that were literally unimaginable when it began to replace the acoustic bass on pop and R&B recordings. Players like James Jamerson, Joe Osborn, Carol Kaye, Chuck Rainey, and David Hood made great songs even better with their bass lines, pocket, and tone. Playing in bands throughout my teenage years, I took every opportunity I could to learn from musicians who were more experienced than I was. Slowly, I began to understand the power of the bass to make everyone else sound better—or lead the way to a train wreck! That sense of responsibility was not lost on me. As I continued to play, listen, and learn, a gradual awareness of other elements came to the surface, including the three Ts: tone, timing, and taste.
I was ready to rock the world with busy lines and bass solos when I moved to Nashville in the late ’70s, and I was suddenly transported into the land of singer-songwriters. It was a huge awakening when I heard the lyrics of artists like Guy Clark, whose spare yet powerful stories and simple guitar changes opened up a whole new universe in reverse for me. It was a reset for sure, but gradually I found ways to combine my earlier energetic approach in different ways. Playing what’s right for a song is a very subjective thing.
“If the song calls for you to ramp up the energy and lead the way like Chris Squire, Bootsy Collins, Geddy Lee, Sting, Flea, Justin Chancellor, or so many others, trust yourself and go for it.”
Don Williams, whom I worked with for many years, was known as a man of few words, but he gave me some of the best musical advice I ever received. I had been with him for just a few months when he pulled me aside one night after a show, and quietly said, “Dave, you don’t have to play what’s on the records, just don’t throw me off when I’m singing.” In other words: It’s okay to be creative, but listen to what’s going on around you. I never forgot that lesson.
As I gradually got into recording work, in an environment where creativity is combined with efficiency and experimentation is sometimes, but not always, welcome, I focused on tone as a form of expression, trying to make every note count. As drum sounds got much bigger during the ’80s, string bass was pretty much off the table as an option in most situations. Inspired by German bassist Eberhard Weber, I bought an electric upright 5-string built by Harry Fleishman a few years earlier. That theoretically self-indulgent purchase gave me an opportunity to carve out a tone that would work with both big drums and acoustic instruments. It gave me an identifiable sound and led to me playing that bass on records with artists like Keith Whitley, Trisha Yearwood, Alison Krauss, Emmylou Harris, and the Chieftains.
In a world of constantly evolving and merging musical styles, the options can be almost overwhelming, so it’s important to trust yourself. Ultimately, you are making a series of choices every time you pick up the instrument. Whether it’s pick versus fingers versus thumb, or clean versus overdrive versus distortion, and so on … you are the boss of your role in the song you are playing. When the sonic surroundings you find yourself in change, so can you. It’s all about listening to what is going on around you and finding that sweet spot where you can bring the whole thing together while not attracting too much attention.
On the other hand, if the song calls for you to ramp up the energy and lead the way like Chris Squire, Bootsy Collins, Geddy Lee, Sting, Flea, Justin Chancellor, or so many others, trust yourself and go for it. Newer role models like Tal Wilkenfeld, Thundercat, and MonoNeon have raised the bar yet again. The beauty of it all is that the bass and its role keep evolving.
Right now, I guarantee there are young bassists of all descriptions we have not yet heard who are reinventing the bass and its role in new ways. That’s what bass players do—we are the glue that ties music together. Find your power and use it!
A satin finish with serious style. Join PG contributor Tom Butwin as he dives into the PRS Standard 24 Satin—a guitar that blends classic PRS craftsmanship with modern versatility. From its D-MO pickups to its fast-playing neck, this one’s a must-see.
PRS Standard 24 Satin Electric Guitar - Satin Red Apple Metallic
Standard 24 Satin, Red App MetA reverb-based pedal for exploring the far reaches of sound.
Easy to use control set. Wide range of sounds. Crush control is fun to explore. Filter is versatile.
Works best as a stereo effect, which may limit some players.
$299
Old Blood Noise Endeavors Dark Star Stereo
oldbloodnoise.com
The Old Blood Dark Star Stereo (DSS) is one of those pedals that lives beyond simple effect categorization. Yes, it’s a digital reverb. But like other Old Blood designs, it’s such a feature-rich, creative take on that effect that to think of it as a reverb feels not only imprecise but unfair.
The Old Blood Dark Star Stereo (DSS) is one of those pedals that lives beyond simple effect categorization. Yes, it’s a digital reverb. But like other Old Blood designs, it’s such a feature-rich, creative take on that effect that to think of it as a reverb feels not only imprecise but unfair.
In this case, reverb describes how the DSS works more than how it sounds. I’ve come to think of this pedal as a reverb-based synthesizer, where reverb is the jumping-off point for sonic creation. As such, the sounds coming out of the Dark Star can be used as subtle sweetener or sound design textures, opening up worlds that might otherwise be unreachable.
Reverb and Beyond
Functionally speaking, the DSS starts with reverb and applies a high-/low-pass filter, two pitch shifters, each with a two-octave range in each direction, plus bit-crushing and distortion. Controls for lag (pre-delay), multiply (feedback), and decay follow, with mini knobs for volume, mix, and spread. Additional control features include presets, MIDI functionality, plus expression and aux control.
The DSS can be routed in mono, stereo, or mono-in/stereo-out. Both jacks are single TRS, and it’s easy to switch between settings by holding down the bypass switch and selecting via the preset button.
Although it sounds great in mono, stereo is where this iteration of the Dark Star—which follows the mono Dark Star and Dark Star V2—really comes alive. Starting with the filter, both pitch shifters, and crush knobs at noon—all have center detents—affords the most neutral settings. The result is a pad reverb, as synthetic as but less sparkly than a shimmer. The filter control is a fine way to distinguish clean and effect signals. In low-pass mode, the effect signal can easily get dark and spooky while maintaining fidelity and without getting murky. On the other end, high-pass settings are handy for refining those reverb pads and keeping them from washing out the clarity of the clean signal.
Lower fidelity is close at hand when you want it. The crush control, when turned counterclockwise, reduces the bit rate of the effect signal, evoking all kinds of digitally compromised sounds, from early samplers to cell phones, depending on how you flavor it. Counterclockwise applies distortion to the reverb signal. There’s a lot to explore within the wide ranges of the two pitch controls, too. With a four-octave range, quantized in half steps, the combinations can be extreme, and Dark Star takes on a life of its own.
Formless Reflections of Matter
The DSS is easy to get acquainted with, especially for a pedal with so many features, 10 knobs, and two footswitches. I quickly got a feel for the reverb itself at the most neutral filter and pitch settings, where I enjoyed the weight a responsive, textural pad lent to everything I played.
With just the filter and crush controls, there’s plenty to explore. Sitting in the sweet spot between a pair of vintage Fenders, I conjured a Twin Peaks-inspired hazy fog to accompany honeyed diatonic arpeggios, slowly filtering and crushing that sound into a dark, evil low-end whir as chords leaned toward dissonance. Eventually, I cranked the high-pass filter, producing an early MP3-in-a-good-way “shhh” that was fine accompaniment to sparser voicings along my fretboard. It was a true sonic journeyThe pitch controls increase possibilities for both ambience and dissonance. Simple tweaks push the boundaries of possibility in exponentially deeper directions. For more subtle thickening and accompaniment sounds, adding octaves, which are easy to tune by ear, offers precise tone sculpting, dimension, and a wider frequency range. Hearing simple harmonic ideas plucked against celeste- and organ-like reverberations kept me in the Harold Budd and Brian Eno space for long enough to consider new recording projects.
There is as much fun to be had at the highest feedback settings on the DSS. Be forewarned: Spend too much time there and you might need a name for your new ambient band. Cranking the multiply and decay knobs, I’d drop in a few notes, or maybe just a chord, and get to work scanning the pitch knobs and sculpting with the filter. Soon, I conjured bold Ligeti-inspired orchestral sounds fit for a guitar remix of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
The Verdict
The Dark Star Stereo strikes a nice balance between deep control, a wide range of sonic rewards, playability, and an always-sounds-great vibe. The controls are easy to use, so it doesn’t take long to get in the zone, and once you do, there’s plenty to explore. Throughout my time with the DSS, I was impressed with its high-fidelity clarity. I attribute that to the filter, which allows clean and reverb signals to perform dry/wet balance and EQ functions. That alone encouraged more adventurous and creative exploration. Though not every player needs this kind of tone tool, the DSS is a must-check-out effect for anyone serious about wild reverb adventures, and it’s simple and intuitive enough to be a good fit for anyone just starting exploration of those zones. However you come to the Dark Star, it’s a unique-sounding pedal that deserves attention. PG