
Steve Carr’s first amp build was a Fender Champ clone. It didn’t work on the first try. Luckily, that didn’t stop him.
The North Carolina amp builder is famous for his circuit-blending soundboxes, like the Rambler, Sportsman, and Telstar. Here, he tells us how he got started and what keeps him pushing forward.
Steve Carr started building amps because he loved playing guitar. He and his friends cobbled together a band in Michigan City, Indiana, in high school in the mid-’70s, and the gear they played with seemed like a black box. In the pre-internet days, getting information on amp voicings and pickup magnets was difficult. Carr was fascinated, and always wanted to know what made things tick.
After college, he moved to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where he met an amp repairman that he started hanging around. He wanted to apprentice under the fellow and soak up his wisdom, but the guy wasn’t interested in taking on a student. “Finally, he said, ‘I don’t have time to have anybody around here, but you should do what I did when I was a kid, which is build a Fender tweed Champ,’” remembers Carr. He’d have to track down the schematic, figure out how to read it, source the necessary parts, then assemble the amp. Flipping through issues of Vacuum Tube Valley and Angela’s Instruments, he got on his way.
Building that Champ clone taught him how to navigate industrial parts suppliers, valuable know-how that would come in handy later on. At the end of the build, he flicked it on, and nothing happened. The amp wouldn’t sing. “I was super depressed,” Carr says. “I couldn’t believe it.” But he didn’t quit—he spent the next few weeks troubleshooting the circuit and got it to go. By then, in his mind, he was a bona fide amp repairman. Between Chapel Hill, Raleigh, Durham, and Greensboro, there were tons of young gigging bands who needed their amps in working order, so Carr got a breakneck crash course in amp repair over a few years. It wasn’t long before he thought: “Maybe I can make my own amp.”
Carr’s lineup has included 22 different amplifier models over its 26 years of business. Clockwise from top left, we have the Skylark, Rambler, and two Mercury Vs.
Photo by Tim Coffey
His initial idea was to combine two amps that he loved, his black-panel Fender Deluxe Reverb and 50-watt non-master-volume Marshall. He wanted to marry the Fender’s cleans and reverb with the roaring drive of the Marshall. The Frankenstein experiment produced Carr Amplifiers’ first amp: the Slant 6V. It was just intended for Carr’s personal use. But it wasn’t too long until his friends encouraged him to build more, and in the fall of 1998, he made his first two sales.
Eddie Berman was working at the Music Loft in Wilmington, North Carolina, when a local musician called him up to say that a friend of his was building amplifiers, and wanted to bring one by the shop. Carr brought those first two Slant 6Vs by, and Berman and his colleagues jammed on them at rehearsal that evening. “I went, ‘Oh my goodness, we have to have these amplifiers,’” says Berman. The clean channel was unbelievable, Berman continues—broad, cinematic, and sweet-sounding, free from any top-end harshness or “nails on the chalkboard” overtones. It was so intoxicating that he used to tease Carr: The clean channel was so good, why did he bother to put a dirty channel on, too?
There was more to the amps than just rich tone. Berman remembers that the first amp had the same electrical plug as one might find on hospital emergency room equipment. “We know anything that he touches is going to be golden,” says Berman. There was one other element, too: Steve Carr was just a good dude. Ph
From his very first build, Carr has manufactured his amps to impressive, durable specs—two different sources mentioned independently how robust and secure that even the amplifiers’ power cords are.
Photo by Tim Coffey
That was more than 26 years ago. Carr Amplifiers, located in Pittsboro, North Carolina, has grown into one of the most respected companies in the boutique amplification market, thanks to their versatility, exacting construction, and, of course, beautiful sounds.
In his first builds, Carr pioneered a combination that would become a signature for all his models: expensive polypropylene capacitors and more classic, old-school components like carbon-composition resistors. “Those two items have a certain sound that is a family trait in the amps, which is a very dynamic, open, transparent, but also a very warm and liquid sound, at once,” says Carr. “They’re sort of in a way opposite concepts, but they come together.”
Carr attributes his success in part to the initial demise of Matchless, the amp builder that helped carve out the beginnings of the boutique amp niche in the 1990s. When Matchless went out of business in 1998 (they returned some years later), Carr realized that their dealers would probably be looking for replacement amps in their shops to appease the boutique crowd, so he phoned them up and pitched his amps.
“Those two items have a certain sound that is a family trait in the amps, which is a very dynamic, open, transparent, but also a very warm and liquid, sound at once.” - Steve Carr
The business grew, and in May 1999, the Carr brand launched its second amp, the Rambler. Carr describes it as “a collage” of a black-panel Princeton Reverb and a tweed Pro. By this point, the rising amp-maker had solidified another characteristic: He liked squeezing two amps into one box, without sacrificing fidelity on either end. “At first, they don’t really want to work well together,” says Carr. There’s a whole lot of prototyping to get to the point where the circuits can behave copacetically, and represent both elements of their parent amplifiers without causing problems. But succeeding in that analog alchemy is one of Carr’s greatest achievements. “It’s got influences,” he continues, “but it becomes a new, unique amp.”
Working with expensive components, like choice capacitors and near-obsolete resistors, drives the price of Carr amps up, but Steve Carr insists that they make an audible difference. Here, Carr builder David Quick assembles a Mercury V.
Photo by Tim Coffey
Carr started building his noiseboxes out of the spare bedroom of his wife’s home in southern Chapel Hill, and after his first sales, he sprang for a wooden-floored barn in the woods. It had electricity, but that was about it: no HVAC, no water, no bathrooms. But the price was right, so he rented the spot and hired his first employee. The operation lasted a year there, where they built Slant 6Vs and Ramblers, the latter of which became the company’s first perennial seller and a favorite of Nashville session players. “The names of these folks, people may not know, but you’ve probably heard a lot of these session guys who’ve got Ramblers,” says Carr.
The “barn era” lasted about a year and a half, until Carr and his wife relocated to Pittsboro. He got a tip that some space was up for rent in an old chicken hatchery downtown, where they leased two rooms initially. When the business in the neighboring units moved out, Carr Amplifiers expanded to 4,500 square feet. They’ve remained in that building since, growing the operation to fill the high ceilings and spacious rooms.
One of the major additions to the business was in-house cabinetry building. In the early years, Carr hired carpenters from around the state who built cabinets for the amps. At one point, he was picking up cabs from a woodworker named Peter Mather in Virginia Beach, Virginia, loading up a van with 30 of the wooden frames. Even though it was wintertime, Carr drove with the windows down, because the glue applied to adhere the Tolex to the wood was still fresh, and the fumes were potent. Eventually, Mather, who passed away in 2023, offered to travel to Pittsboro to teach Carr and his staff how to manufacture the boxes. The onsite cabinet-making started in 2003, and in the two-decades-plus since, the team has developed their distinctive cabinet design into a key piece of their identity. It’s important that Carr cabs both look great and fit the physical needs of the circuitry inside.
At Carr, the name of the game is cutting cabs, not corners. Here, a stack of naked Bel-Ray frames show off the shop’s woodworking and design prowess.
Photo courtesy of Carr Amplifiers
“We have a certain aesthetic sense,” says Carr, naming 1920s through ’60s design and art trends, chiefly art deco, as major influences. “I’ve always wanted to have that in the cabinets, because so many guitar amps are very basic-looking, and if somebody’s buying something that’s handmade with great care, it seems to me that you want to make it fun-looking, too. You want to take that same care with the whole aesthetic look of it and make it a real pleasure to have. That’s been a goal from the beginning, and it’s part of why we decided to take the extra expense. There are a lot of machines you’ve got to buy to create a cabinet shop. But now we have control over the beauty of the design.”
But the box is only as good as what comes out of it. Carr says it takes roughly nine months of process between when he brainstorms a design and when it comes to life, but it always starts with a classic amp—or a few. “I often joke that it’s kind of a sonic divining rod, where I’ll start off somewhere and the amp eventually becomes what it wanted to become,” says Carr. “I’m just along for the ride.”
“I often joke that it’s kind of a sonic divining rod, where I’ll start off somewhere and the amp eventually becomes what it wanted to become. I’m just along for the ride.” - Steve Carr
The Bel-Ray, released earlier this year, is Carr’s most ambitious design yet. Previous builds like the Super B and Mercury V incorporated rotary switches that allowed users to change between specific voicings—already a mean feat in a small combo with analog circuitry. But Carr wanted to take it a step further and create a combo amp with a “triumvirate of British amp voices”: classic Vox, Marshall, and Hiwatt noisemakers. It was a big challenge, he admits. The output section was fairly simple—two EL84 tubes—but Carr wanted to incorporate an EF86 pentode in the preamp. It has a distinct flavor from the two other 12AX7s in the preamp, but is so dynamic that the potential for microphonic problems is elevated. That took some finessing.
The tone stacks, though, were the most labor-intensive code to crack. It took Carr a long time to get the feel for Hiwatt’s midrange and treble signatures, which he likens to those of old Valco and Supro amps. While the Marshall and Vox tone architecture were similar enough in structure, the Hiwatt’s was trickier to squeeze in. “The parts just don’t connect in the same places or in the same way, so you’re not able to just change a value here and there; you have to change how it’s all hooked up,” he explains. To accomplish the complex maneuvering, the Bel-Ray uses a number of dual, stacked pots, and the rotary switch changes not just capacitor values, but also which deck of the dual pots the user is manipulating. “There was a lot of massaging and tweaking and thinking to get all three of those vibes there,” he says. “And then, the amp became its own thing. It has characteristics of all those [amps], but it’s not exactly those.”
Carr Bel-Ray Amp Demo | First Look
PG’s John Bohlinger takes the Carr Bel-Ray through its paces in this First Look demo.
Search terms: Carr Bel-Ray Amp Demo First Look
Part of Carr Amplifiers’ “mojo” comes from Carr’s exacting standards for individual components, which contribute to the significant price tag on his amps. He favors U.S.-made signal capacitors from Ohio-based Jupiter Condenser Co., which are patterned after ’50s and ’60s caps but can cost 10 to 20 times more than the average capacitor. Another parts vendor sources him with his treasured, near-obsolete carbon-comp resistors. Unless you have a backstock (which he has amassed), Carr estimates you won’t be able to find them within a few years. This all might sound a bit over-the-top; how much difference can one tiny component make? Carr insists that when he’s testing components in the circuits, the value (pun intended, I guess) becomes clear.
“There’s a lot of really great amps out there, and I love a lot of amps. I’m not saying this is the only one, but it sure is a good one.” - Bill Frisell
It’s obvious that he’s onto something. In the early 2000s, Bill Frisell was in Nashville recording with bassist Viktor Krauss when Krauss loaned him a Carr Rambler to record with. He loved it. A while later, he played a Carr Mercury during a session in Portland, Oregon. “That’s where I really was like, ‘Oh man, I gotta check this out more,’” says Frisell. His parents were living in Chapel Hill, so during a visit, he popped down to Steve’s shop and picked up a Mercury of his own. When the Sportsman came out, Frisell bought one of those, too.
On the road, Frisell uses mostly Fender amps, but at home, he keeps his prized amplifiers: a small Gibson combo amp from the early ’60s, an early ’60s Fender Princeton, and his Carr Sportsman. “There’s this thing with these older amps,” says Frisell. “There’s a clarity and warmth that’s happening at the same time. I can’t put my finger on it when I try to describe the sound. Whatever it is with the Sportsman, that’s the one for me that has these qualities, these older amps that I love.
“There’s a lot of really great amps out there, and I love a lot of amps. I’m not saying this is the only one, but it sure is a good one.”- Ask Amp Man: Revisiting the Dawn of the Sundown Artist ›
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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.
$149
Marshall 1959 Super Lead
The very definition of classic, vintage Marshall sound in a highly affordable package.
There’s only one relevant question about Marshall’s new 1959 Super Lead overdrive/distortion pedal: Does it sound like an actual vintage Super Lead head? The answer is, simply and surprisingly, yes. The significant difference I heard within the voice of this stomp, which I ran through a Carr Vincent and a StewMac Valve Factory 18 kit amp for contrast, is that it’s a lot quieter than my 1972 Super Lead.
The Super Lead, which bore Marshall’s 1959 model number, debuted in 1965 and was the amp that defined the plexi sound. That sound is here in spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts. Like the Super Lead, the pedal is easy to use. The original’s 3-band EQ is replaced by a single, rangeful tone control. The normal dial and the volume, which together mimic the character created by jumping the first and second channels of a plexi head, offer smooth, rich, buttery op-amp driven gain and loudness. And the high-treble dial functions much like the presence control on the original amp.
The pedal is sturdy and handsome, too. A heavy-duty metal enclosure evokes the classic black-with-gold-plate plexi look and a vintage-grille-cloth motif. Switches and knobs (the latter with rubber sides for slip-free turning) are ultra solid, and—refreshingly—there’s a 9V battery option in addition to a barrel-pin connection. Whether with single-coils or humbuckers, getting beefy, sustained, historic tones took moments. I especially delighted in approximating my favorite Super Lead head setting by flooring the high treble, normal, and tone dials, and turning back the tone pots on my Flying V, evoking Disraeli Gears-era Clapton tone. That alone, to me, makes the 1959 Super Lead stomp a bargain at $149.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.