Sterling Ball tells the story of an instrument that reaches back to the earliest days of electric-guitar manufacturing. In the hands of players including Pino Palladino, Joe Dart, Tim Commerford, and Tony Levin, it continues to live on the cutting edge.
“The unique characteristics of the StingRay were a happy accident,” proclaims Sterling Ball, bassist and retired CEO of Ernie Ball, current and longtime manufacturers of the now-iconic Music Man StingRay bass.
Happy accidents sometimes seem par for the course when it comes to discovery and innovation, and it’s true that the development and subsequent popularity of the model is partly due to such happenstance. But the StingRay, first introduced in 1976, also featured unique appointments that were carefully considered, including the onboard active EQ, the 3+1 headstock configuration, and the single Music Man humbucker. Such innovations quickly made the StingRay the go-to bass for a bevy of dynamic, influential players.
Popular music of the last few decades is full of incredibly diverse examples of how the StingRay helped shape and define the sound of recorded bass for the modern era. Look no further than Flea’s playing on the first six Red Hot Chili Peppers albums, Tim Commerford on Rage Against the Machine’s monumental debut, Louis Johnson’s groundbreaking slap-bass work with Brothers Johnson and on Michael Jackson’s Thriller, Joe Dart’s more recent fleet-fingered approach with Vulfpeck, and, of course, Cliff Williams’ steady pulse within AC/DC’s immense body of work. StingRay-wielding bassists deliver the grooves on a wide range of immediately identifiable hits, including Chuck Wright’s performance on Quiet Riot’s arena-ready anthem “Metal Health (Bang Your Head),” John Deacon’s pseudo-funk on Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust,” Bernard Edwards’ disco dynamite on Chic’s “Le Freak,” Tony Levin on Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer,” and the late Louis Johnson on Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean.” And that’s just scratching the surface.
The StingRay bass is alive and well. The Retro ’70s variation seen here faithfully reproduces the specs of the original Music Man model.
That the StingRay can be found in such varied styles gives credence to its versatility, reliability, and craftsmanship. Upon its introduction, the StingRay was poised to forever alter the sonic landscape of the low end. “There wasn’t a whole bunch of innovation happening in the electric bass industry at the time,” says Ball, “and some of the newer rock bassists really wanted a brighter sound. It was the right bass at the right time.”
StingRay Prehistory
The seeds of the StingRay were sown a long, long time ago among a who’s who of electric guitar industry pioneers who knew and influenced each other well before the instrument was even a twinkle in their collective eyes. Ernie Ball and Leo Fender first met sometime in the mid to late ’40s. “Leo was still running his radio repair shop in Fullerton, California, playing around with little amps and the Broadcaster prototypes,” surmises Sterling Ball, who is Ernie’s son. “My dad was just taken by all of it. It was life-changing for him and actually set the path for the Ball family.” By 1946, Leo had turned radio repairs over to Dale Hyatt (future co-founder of G&L, but that’s another story) and renamed his own business Fender Electric Instruments Company, where he focused on building guitars and amps.
Ernie Ball, a steel guitarist, became an official Fender endorsee in 1953. A few years later, in 1958, he opened what he claimed to be the first guitar store in the U.S. in Tarzana, California. By 1962, Ball would pioneer the custom-gauge-guitar-string revolution, setting in motion the decades-long success of the Ernie Ball company.
When the Fender company was sold to CBS in 1965, Forrest White was vice president. He and Tom Walker, an esteemed sales representative, remained with Fender for a short time after the sale, but by 1971, they had formed Tri-Sonix, Inc., with Leo Fender as a financial backer and silent partner. The company’s name was officially changed to Music Man in 1974, and Leo Fender was appointed president the following year, coinciding with the expiration of a 10-year non-compete clause lingering from the CBS sale.
The Early Days
One of Tony Levin’s many StingRay basses takes a rest from his busy schedule of touring and sessions.
Photo by Tony Levin
The StingRay bass debuted in 1976. Designed by Leo Fender, Tom Walker, and Forrest White, with beta-testing input from Sterling Ball, the StingRay was the first production bass to offer onboard active equalization. And because the relationships between all parties involved went far beyond business, it’s worth noting that they decided to honor their personal connection by embedding it into the aesthetics of the instrument via the Music Man company logo. “When you look at the headstock of the Music Man and you see the two little guys there, that’s my brother Sherwood and me,” reveals Ball, who is Walker’s godson. “Some people think that’s not true. It’s true. Unfortunately, no one around but me really knows.”
Sterling Ball was a burgeoning bass player by the mid ’70s; he’s played with Albert Lee and Steve Lukather among others. In addition to his beta-testing input, Ball explains that his personal/professional vantage point also put him in the position of mediator, when needed, between Walker and Fender. “Tommy and Leo would argue,” he recalls. “When I first went there, the bass was unplayable because the preamp was so hot it would overdrive the input impedance of just about any amp.” Walker, who was also an electrical engineer, “self-taught like most of the great ones,” according to Ball, designed the preamp. Walker had previously designed the Blender Fuzz pedal for Fender and would ultimately be responsible for developing Music Man amps.
The StingRay’s distinct sound also had a lot to do with Fender’s personal predilections and physical ailments. “People think Leo was a sonic shaper and that his intention was to change how the world hears sound, but Leo was deaf,” [Editor’s note: not literally.] laughs Ball. “Leo had no idea about funk, and he had no idea about slapping. He fancied country music, where the guitar is brighter. If you grow up eating hot peppers, your tolerance for heat is normal. So, if you grow up with a Stratocaster, that shapes what you think an electric guitar should sound like.” The fact that the bright, snappy-sounding StingRay would appeal to slap bassists like Louis Johnson was essentially pure luck, according to Ball, because Fender was getting Walker to crank the active circuit to his own taste, as well as compensate for the diminished frequencies in his own hearing.
“When you look at the headstock of the Music Man and you see the two little guys there, that’s my brother Sherwood and me.” —Sterling Ball
Tony Levin has played StingRay basses throughout his career with Peter Gabriel, King Crimson, and others, and he got his hands on one in the early days through the late Joel DiBartolo, 18-year veteran of The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson and another beta-tester for the burgeoning Music Man company. “My memory of that bass is recording a Peter Gabriel album, probably in ’79,” recalls Levin. “The high-end was so sensitive it was picking up crackles from static electricity. I was in the control room with a wire wrapped around my ankle, attached to the studio desk for grounding, to keep the crackle down.” That crackle didn’t deter Levin from realizing the StingRay’s sonic potential, though. In 1980, he played the same bass on John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s iconic Double Fantasy album.
Flea and his StringRay catch some air at Lollapalooza on Montage Mountain in Scranton, Pennsylvania, on August 15, 1992.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
The development and inclusion of Tom Walker’s active onboard preamp/EQ circuit was by-and-large the biggest innovation for a production-model bass guitar at the time. In this case, Ball likens Fender to a hot-rod enthusiast. “He liked having all that power,” he says. “He got a wider frequency response, and he could hear the bass better.” Levin says the original Music Man StingRay bass “felt like a Fender but had lows that engineers were craving, and that I just couldn’t get with my Precision.”
The preamp/pickup/bridge combination was the main source of the StingRay’s bright tone. According to Ball, Fender was not particularly concerned about tonewood when designing instruments. “His beta-testing was all done on finished-plywood board, which has no resonance,” reveals Ball. “It had a hole routed out where he could move different pickups in, and it had breadboarded circuitry on the outside.” It also had the high-mass, string-through-body Music Man bridge, another signature component. “When you went into Leo’s lab, he’d make you put a screwdriver on the bridge and then press the other side on the cartilage of your ear to listen to it vibrate,” recalls Ball. “If you do that, you feel the whole body vibrate. The guitar’s alive. One of the great things about the StingRay bridge is it really gives the instrument that ability to ring and vibrate. It’s so cool.”
Also contributing to that kind of lively sustain is the 3+1 tuning key headstock configuration, which was Forrest White’s contribution to the instrument’s design. Because this arrangement eliminates angled string pull on the headstock, it also prevents dead spots. At least that’s the theory. “Nothing’s bending to make it to the tuning peg,” explains Ball. “It's a straight string pull.” The 3+1 setup also made it identifiable for marketing. But there was one aspect of that design on the original Music Man models that clearly irked Ball. “They put the string tree on the G and the D. It didn’t need to be there. Most instruments we make don’t need a string retainer, but we’re trying to stay true to the original design.”
The latest iteration of the StingRay is the new DarkRay, a thoroughly modern take on the StingRay formula that was created in collaboration with Darkglass Electronics. It features a 2-band EQ preamp from Darkglass with clean, distortion, and fuzz modes, plus a neodymium humbucker, roasted maple neck, and more.
The Ernie Ball Music Man StingRay Emerges
In 1984, the Ernie Ball company bought Music Man at auction. “I didn’t have a guitar factory. I thought, ‘What the hell am I going to do?’” Sterling Ball chuckles. “So, I had to build a factory.” Ball brought in Dan Norton, his dad’s right-hand-man, and Dudley Gimpel, a renowned builder who worked at Knut Koupée Music Store in Minneapolis. “It was Dudley, Dan, and me. And now we have to make a bass [laughs].”
It was important to Ball that their builds were consistent, and since the original Music Man StingRay basses have notoriously inconsistent weights, Ball and his fledgling crew sought to rectify that issue. “Some were so heavy, I don’t think if you had a live-in chiropractor you could play them, and then there were others that were feather light. I gravitated towards the lighter ones.” Ball charted his course by trying to discern the difference between making a good bass versus making a great bass. “You could take one log and make 20 basses, and two of them are just going to be infinitely better.”
“[Leo Fender] liked having all that power. He got a wider frequency response, and he could hear the bass better.” —Sterling Ball
Other changes in the Ernie Ball era included moving the string tree to the D and the A strings, automating pickup production, adding contours, and changing the finish. Perhaps the most significant development, however, was adding the 3-band EQ and eventually offering an 18-volt circuit option. “What was fantastic when Ernie Ball took over was the addition of a midrange control,” states Levin. “I could make it sound like the Precision some engineers still wanted, but, for my preference, I could roll the midrange back.”
Bernard Edwards and his StingRay behind the board at the Power Station in New York City on April 6,1983.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
Ball concurs: “When we came out with the 3-band, which was cut and boost, you really got a lot more flexibility and a lot more options.” They eventually learned to voice the 3-band EQ based on customers’ tendencies to crank all the knobs. “In our business, everybody’s idea is everything has to be fully on,” explains Ball. “We could give you a lot more, but we know that if somebody turns everything up and plugs it in, they’re going to think it sounds terrible. So, we actually have to put it where we want it when it’s pegged. I’m not saying that we were putting a limiter on it, but we do voice it for being dimed.”
The StingRay remains a preeminent electric bass for many hotshot players, and the model’s line ranges from the vintage-informed Retro ’70s model to the heavy-music-tinged DarkRay to a host of signature models. But one thing that Ball says has been a little frustrating and limiting is the fact that most companies are still primarily selling 60-year-old designs.
“The path to innovation is very tough because of what players are willing to accept—it’s a narrow cast,” he says. “When you come out with a guitar or bass that looks different, it’s so interesting to see how strongly people oppose it at first. But if you don’t like it, you don’t have to get mad. It’s just not for you. We’re not taking your birthday away; we’re not taking Valentine’s Day away. All we’re doing is adding choices. You have to remind them that we didn’t take anything away. We just gave somebody else another choice.”
An '80s-era cult favorite is back.
Originally released in the 1980s, the Victory has long been a cult favorite among guitarists for its distinctive double cutaway design and excellent upper-fret access. These new models feature flexible electronics, enhanced body contours, improved weight and balance, and an Explorer headstock shape.
A Cult Classic Made Modern
The new Victory features refined body contours, improved weight and balance, and an updated headstock shape based on the popular Gibson Explorer.
Effortless Playing
With a fast-playing SlimTaper neck profile and ebony fretboard with a compound radius, the Victory delivers low action without fret buzz everywhere on the fretboard.
Flexible Electronics
The two 80s Tribute humbucker pickups are wired to push/pull master volume and tone controls for coil splitting and inner/outer coil selection when the coils are split.
For more information, please visit gibson.com.
Gibson Victory Figured Top Electric Guitar - Iguana Burst
Victory Figured Top Iguana BurstThe English guitarist expands his extensive discography with 1967: Vacations in the Past, an album paired with a separate book release, both dedicated to the year 1967 and the 14-year-old version of himself that still lives in him today.
English singer-songwriter Robyn Hitchcock is one of those people who, in his art as well as in his every expression, presents himself fully, without scrim. I don’t know if that’s because he intends to, exactly, or if it’s just that he doesn’t know how to be anyone but himself. And it’s that genuine quality that privileges you or I, as the listener, to recognize him in tone or lyrics alone, the same way one knows the sound of Miles Davis’ horn within an instant of hearing it—or the same way one could tell Hitchcock apart in a crowd by his vibrantly hued, often loudly patterned fashion choices.
Itchycoo Park
“I like my songs, but I don’t necessarily think I’m the best singer of them,” he effaces to me over Zoom, as it’s approaching midnight where he’s staying in London. “I just wanted to be a singer-songwriter because that’s what Bob Dylan did. And I like to create; I’m happiest when I’m producing something. But my records are blueprints, really. They just show you what the song could be, but they’re not necessarily the best performance of them. Whereas if you listen to … oh, I don’t know, the great records of ’67, they actually sound like the best performances you could get.”
He mentions that particular year not offhandedly, but because that’s the theme of the conversation: He’s just released an album, 1967: Vacations in the Past, which is a collection of covers of songs released in 1967, and one original song—the title track. Boasting his takes on Procol Harum’s “A Whiter Shade of Pale,” the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life,” Pink Floyd’s “See Emily Play,” and Small Faces’ “Itchycoo Park,” among eight other tracks, it serves as a sort of soundtrack or musical accompaniment to his new memoir, 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left.
Hitchcock, who was 14 years old and attending boarding school in England in 1967, describes how who he is today is encased in that period of his life, much like a mosquito in amber. But why share that with the world now?
In the mid ’70s, before he launched his solo career, Hitchcock was the leader of the psychedelic group the Soft Boys.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/tinnitus photography
“I’m 71; I’ve been alive quite a long time,” he shares. “If I want to leave a record of anything apart from all the songs I’ve written, now is a good time to do it. By writing about 1966 to ’67, I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
Hopefully, I say, the publication of these works won’t ring as some sort of death knell for him.
“Well, it’s a relative death knell,” he replies. “But everyone’s on the conveyor belt. We all go over the edge. And none of our legacies are permanent. Even the plastic chairs and Coke bottles and stuff like that that we’re leaving behind.... In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth. But I suppose you do probably get to an age where you want to try and explain yourself, maybe to yourself. Maybe it’s me that needs to read the book, you know?”
“I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
To counter his description of his songs above, I would say that Hitchcock’s performances on 1967: Vacations in the Past carve out their own deserved little planet in the vintage-rock Milky Way. I was excited in particular by some of his selections: the endorsement of foundational prog in the Procol Harum cover; the otherwise forgotten Traffic tune, “No Face, No Name and No Number,” off of Mr. Fantasy, the Mamas & the Papas’ nostalgic “San Francisco,” and of course, the aforementioned Floyd single. There’s also the lesser known “My White Bicycle” by Tomorrow and “I Can Hear the Grass Grow” by the Move, and the Hendrix B-side, “Burning of the Midnight Lamp.”
Through these recordings, Hitchcock pays homage to “that lovely time when people were inventing new strands of music, and they couldn’t define them,” he replies. “People didn’t really know what to call Pink Floyd. Was it jazz, or was it pop, or psychedelia, or freeform, or systems music?”
His renditions call to mind a cooking reduction, defined by Wikipedia as “the process of thickening and intensifying the flavor of a liquid mixture, such as a soup, sauce, wine, or juice, by simmering or boiling.” Hitchcock’s distinctive, classic folk-singer voice and steel-string-guided arrangements do just that to this iconic roster. There are some gentle twists and turns—Eastern-instrumental touches; subtly applied, ethereal delay and reverb, and the like—but nothing that should cloud the revived conduit to the listener’s memory of the originals.
And yet, here’s his review of his music, in general: “I hear [my songs] back and I think, ‘God, my voice is horrible! This is just … ugh! Why do I sing through my nose like that?’ And the answer is because Bob Dylan sang through his nose, you know. I was just singing through Bob Dylan’s nose, really.”
1967: Vacations in the Pastfeatures 11 covers of songs that were released in 1967, and one original song—the title track.
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“I wait for songs to come to me: They’re independent like cats, rather than like dogs who will faithfully trail you everywhere,” Hitchcock explains, sharing about his songwriting process. “All I can do is leave a plate of food out for the songs—in the form of my open mind—and hope they will appear in there, hungry for my neural pathways.”
Once he’s domesticated the wild idea, he says, “It’s important to remain as unselfconscious as possible in the [writing] process. If I start worrying about composing the next line, the embryonic song slips away from me. Often I’m left with a verse-and-a-half and an unresolved melody because my creation has lost its innocence and fled from my brain.
“[Then] there are times when creativity itself is simply not what’s called for: You just have to do some more living until the songs appear again. That’s as close as I can get to describing the process, which still, thankfully, remains mysterious to me after all this time.”
“In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth.”
In the prose of 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left, Hitchcock expresses himself similarly to how he does so distinctively in his lyrics and speech. Amidst his tales of roughing his first experiences in the infamously ruthless environs of English boarding school, he shares an abundance of insight about his parents and upbringing, as well as a self-diagnosis of having Asperger’s syndrome—whose name is now gradually becoming adapted in modern lexicon to “low-support-needs” autism spectrum disorder. When I touch on the subject, he reaffirms the observation, and elaborates, “I think I probably am also OCD, whatever that means. I’ve always been obsessed with trying to get things in the right order.”
He relates an anecdote about his school days: “So, if I got out of lunch—‘Yippee! I’ve got three hours to dress like a hippie before they put me back in my school clothes. Oh damn, I’ve put the purple pants on, but actually, I should put the red ones on. No! I put the red ones on; it’s not good—I’ll put my jeans on.’
Robyn Hitchcock's Gear
Hitchcock in 1998, after embarking on the tour behind one of his earlier acoustic albums, Moss Elixir.
Guitars
- Two Fylde Olivia acoustics equipped with Sennheiser II lavalier mics (for touring)
- Larrivée acoustic
- Fender Telecaster
- Fender Stratocaster
Strings & Picks
- Elixir .011–.052 (acoustic)
- Ernie Ball Skinny Top Heavy Bottom .010–.054 (electric)
- Dunlop 1.0 mm
“I’d just get into a real state. And then the only thing that would do would be listening to Trout Mask Replica by Captain Beefheart. There was something about Trout Mask that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa! This music is it.’”
With him having chosen to cover “See Emily Play,” a Syd Barrett composition, the conversation soon turns to the topic of the late, troubled songwriter. I comment, “It’s hard to listen to Syd’s solo records.... It’s weird that people enabled that. You can hear him losing his mind.”
“You can, but at the same time, the fact they enabled it means that these things did come out,” Robyn counters. “And he obviously had nothing else to give after that. So, at least, David Gilmour and the old Floyd guys.... It meant they gave the world those songs, which, although the performances are quite … rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“There was something about Trout Mask Replica that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa!’”
I briefly compare Barrett to singer-songwriter Daniel Johnston, and we agree there are some similarities. And then with a segue, ask, “When did you first fall in love with the guitar? Was it when you came home from boarding school and found the guitar your parents gifted you on your bed?”
Robyn pauses thoughtfully.“Ah, I think I liked the idea of the guitar probably around that time,” he shares. “I always used to draw men with guns. I’m not really macho, but I had a very kind of post-World War II upbringing where men were always carrying guns. And I thought, ‘Well, if he’s a man, he’s got to carry a gun.’ Then, around the age of 13, I swapped the gun for the guitar. And then every man I drew was carrying a guitar instead.”
Elaborating on getting his first 6-string, he says, “I had lessons from a man who had three fingers bent back from an industrial accident. He was a nice old man with whiskers, and he showed me how to get the guitar in tune and what the basic notes were. And then I got hold of a Bob Dylan songbook, and—‘Oh my gosh, I can play “Mr. Tambourine Man!”’ It was really fast—about 10 minutes between not being able to play anything, and suddenly being able to play songs by my heroes.”
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Hitchcock does me the kindness, during our atypically deep conversation—at least, for a press interview—of sharing more acute perceptions of his parents, and their own neurodivergence. Ultimately, he feels that his mother didn’t necessarily like him, but loved the idea of him—and that later in life, he came to better understand his lonely, depressive father. “My mother was protective but in an oddly cold way. People are like that,” he shares. “We just contain so many things that don’t make sense with each other: colors that you would not mix as a painter; themes you would not intermingle as a writer; characters you would not create.... We defy any sense of balance or harmony.
“Although the performances are quite rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“The idea of normality.... ‘Normal’ is tautological,” he continues. “Nothing is normal. A belief in normality is an aberration. It’s a form of insanity, I think.
“It’s just hard for us to accept ourselves because we’re brought up with the myth of normality, and the myth of what people are supposed to be like gender-wise, sex-wise, and psychologically what we’re supposed to want. And in a way, some of that’s beginning to melt, now. But that probably just causes more confusion. It’s no wonder people like me want to live in 1967.”
YouTube It
In this excerpt from the Jonathan Demme-directed concert film of Robyn Hitchcock, Storefront Hitchcock, the songwriter performs an absurdist “upbeat” song about a man who dies of cancer.
Designed in collaboration with Blu DeTiger, this limited-edition bass guitar features a Sky Burst Sparkle finish, custom electronics, and a chambered lightweight ash body.
"This bass is a reflection of everything I love about playing," said Blu DeTiger. "I wanted an instrument that could handle the diversity of sounds I create, from deep, funky grooves to melodic lines that cut through the mix. Fender and I worked closely together to make sure this bass not only looks amazing but sounds incredible in any setting."
Featured as the cover of the Forbes 30 Under 30 music list, Blu, who defines her musical style in the "groovy Indie” genre blending elements of Pop, Rock, and Funk, represents the next generation of pop music, earning accolades and a dedicated global fanbase with her work alongside top artists and successful solo releases. Bringing her signature sound and style, Blu marks a new milestone in her storied partnership with Fender and solidifying her influence on the future of music in creating the Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass.
Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass ($1,599.99) - From the Sky Burst Sparkle to the chrome hardware and mirrored pickguard, every detail on this Jazz Bass echoes Blu’s artistic vision. The offset ash body is chambered to keep this bass as lightweight and comfortable as possible. The satin finished maple neck, bound 9.5” rosewood fingerboard and vintage tall frets provide smooth playability. The Custom Blu DeTiger Fireball bass humbucker and Player Plus Noiseless Jazz Bass Pickups fuse vintage charm with modern punch. The bass also includes an 18V Player Plus preamp with 3-band EQ and active/passive toggle, great for sculpting your tone and ideal for capturing the funky snap and growl that defines Blu’s sound. With its inspired aesthetics, signature sonics and Blu-approved features, the Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass lets you tap into the infectious pop energy that keeps this star shining!
Her successful releases including "Figure It Out,” "Vintage," and recent album “All I Ever Want is Everything” have earned her accolades and sent her on the road to tour across the world to perform for her dedicated fanbase. Her distinct style of playing has also seen her play live with top tier artists such as Olivia Rodrigo, Bleachers, Dominic Fike, Caroline Polachek, Chromeo, and more.
Exploring the Limited Player Plus x Blu DeTiger Jazz Bass® | Fender Artist Signature | Fender - YouTube
The majestic Roland Space Echo is having a bit of a resurgence. Here’s a breakdown on what makes it tick, and whether or not it’s right for you.
In this article, we delve into one of the most cherished gadgets in my guitar collection, the Roland Space Echo RE-201. This iconic piece of equipment has been used by legendary musicians like Jonny Greenwood, Brian Setzer, and Wata from Boris, which only heightened my desire to own one. A few years ago, I was fortunate to acquire a vintage RE-201 in good condition and at a reasonable price.
Using the RE-201 today has its advantages and disadvantages, particularly due to its size, which is comparable to an amplifier head. When compared to modern equivalents like delay pedals or software plugins that closely emulate the original, the vintage RE-201 can seem inefficient. Here, I share my personal and subjective experience with it.
The RE-201 is a tape echo/delay effect that gained popularity in the 1970s and ’80s. Unlike the more complex analog BBD delays or digital delays, tape delays use magnetic tape to simultaneously record and play back sound via a magnetic tape head (similar to a guitar or bass pickup). Because the recording head and playback head are in different physical locations, there is a time gap during the recording and playback process, creating the “delay” effect. This concept was first discovered by Les Paul in the 1950s using two tape machines simultaneously.
However, this method has a drawback: The magnetic tape used as a storage medium has a limited lifespan. Over time, the quality of the tape degrades, especially with continuous use. This degradation is marked by muddy, wavy sounds and unavoidable noise. Yet, this is precisely where the magic of real tape echo lies! New tapes produce clearer, hi-fi sounds, while older tapes tend to produce wavy sounds known as “modulated delay.” Additionally, increasing the number of tape-head readers extends the gap time/delay time of the output, and activating multiple tape-head readers simultaneously creates unique echo/delay patterns.
“This degradation is marked by muddy, wavy sounds and unavoidable noise. Yet, this is precisely where the magic of real tape echo/delay lies!”
Just as how fuzz and distortion effects were discovered, the “imperfections” of tape also represent a historical fact about how the creative process in music follows an absurd, non-linear, and unique pattern. In everyday practical life, signal delay is something typically avoided; however, in a musical context, delay adds a deeper dimension. Today, it’s hard to imagine a pedalboard without a delay effect at the end of the chain.
This uniqueness inspired me to create Masjidil Echo, embracing the “imperfection” of a vintage tape echo/delay with magnetic tape that hasn’t been replaced for years. Many newer pedals, such as the Boss RE-20, Strymon El Capistan, and the Catalinbread Echorec and Belle Epoch, draw inspiration from vintage tape repeat machines. Each has its unique interpretation of emulating tape echo, all in a more compact and maintenance-free format. Real tape delay requires periodic maintenance and has mostly been discontinued since the mid 1980s, with Roland ceasing production of the Space Echo entirely in 1985.
However, in recent years, interest in real tape echo has surged, perhaps due to nostalgia for past technology. As a result, many vintage delay units have appeared on marketplaces at increasingly gargantuan prices! If you’re considering acquiring one, I recommend thinking it over carefully. Are you prepared for the maintenance? Will you use it for regular performances? Are you ready for the fact that magnetic tape will become increasingly difficult to find, potentially turning your machine into a mere display piece? I don’t mean to instill fear, but the real deal, in my opinion, still can’t be fully emulated into a more practical and future-proof digital format.
So, I’ll leave you with one final question for consideration: What if the genealogy of technology were reversed chronologically, with multihead/multitap delay discovered digitally in the 1950s, and in the 2000s, a technological disruption led to the invention of mechanical tape echo to replace digital technology? Which would you choose?