Gator Cases showed off their new waterproof cases at NAMM 2015. The cases are built to ATA 300 specifications and feature an injection-molded shell, wheels and pull handle for easy transport, and a crushed velvet interior with a supportive-foam nest.
The long-running punk quartet pick prototypes, P basses, and Pauls for their latest live shows.
On tour supporting their 12th full-length record, Silver Bleeds the Black Sun…, California rockers AFI rolled through Nashville’s Marathon Music Works in October. After first running down their rigs in 2017, PG’s Chris Kies linked up again with guitarist Jade Puget and bassist Hunter Burgan to see how their gear has evolved in the past eight years.
Puget found this Les Paul Standard hanging at Guitar Center 15 years ago, and it’s still his go-to live guitar. A surprisingly light specimen, it’s had a Seymour Duncan pickup swapped in, and it’s strung with Ernie Balls—usually .010s.
Throughout AFI’s set, Puget switches between tunings: D sharp, drop C sharp, D standard, and E standard.
Silver Surfer
This new Schecter, a prototype made for Puget, is his first ever silverburst, which saw service in the music video for “Holy Visions.” It’s loaded with a Sustainiac system in the neck position.
Willing and Ableton
Puget has experimented a lot to get his rig to this point. His signal runs through a pair of rack-mounted Line 6 Helix units in a stereo configuration, and also through a computer running Ableton that triggers the exact sound designs he created while recording. The RJM Mastermind and Effect Gizmo are programmed to control all pedals, the Helix, and Ableton.
Jade Puget’s Pedalboard
Most of Puget’s effects come from the Helix, but he also runs a few pedals in his rack, including an MXR EVH 5150 Overdrive and Carbon Copy, Boss DC-2W, RV-2, and BF-2, and a Keeley Compressor.
Another board carries a Boss TU-3, TC Electronic Mimiq, EHX The Clone Theory, TC Electronic Arena, MXR Echoplex, and L.R. Baggs Venue DI.
Blackout
In live contexts, Burgan uses Fender P basses exclusively. This is his No. 1, which he’s had since 2012.
Pinky
This dazzling Fender P was made custom for Burgan before this tour.
Triples is Best
Burgan runs this trio of Ampeg SVT Classics.
Hunter Burgan’s Rack Setup
Burgan uses a RJM Mastermind GT to control his in-show switching. In his backstage rack, there’s an EHX Bass Big Muff, Micro Synth, Satisfaction, Nano POG, Bass Clone, and Graphic Fuzz, and on a second shelf, there’s the rest of the collection: a Bass Soul Food, Battalion, Lizard King, Neo Mistress, and Memory Toy.
Janek Gwizdala explains that he notates his transcriptions because he’s “simply not able to remember the information long term. I want to come back 10 years later and be re-inspired all over again.”
I’m in the middle of writing a book about transcription and ear training. Broadly speaking, I think the two are essentially the same thing.
Transcription, at its core, is about the connection between listening and playing. It’s the real work we do to become more fluent as musicians. Listening, I think, is a relatively low-effort exercise since you can do it almost anywhere, while doing almost anything. On some level, the performance element of our playing could also be considered low-effort when compared to the work required to get there.
There are, of course, exceptions to both—especially in situations like active listening, where you’re learning a piece of intense music in a short space of time, or when you’re on a gig and reading something complicated. Both of those are anything but low-effort. But in general, the real workload comes when we are bridging the gap between them.
Now, whether you refer to it as ear training or transcription, what I’ve come to realize over the three decades I’ve been training my ear and writing things down is that it’s actually all about the feel—and has comparatively little to do with the notes.
Think about being in a room with two people speaking fluent French. You don’t speak a word of it, but there are a few sounds that resemble English. Immediately, you can mimic the sound of their voices, the tempo of their speech, and even approximate an accent. Yes, it’s going to sound terrible at first, and it might come across as if you’re mocking them—trying to speak like them without any actual vocabulary.
But I believe that by mimicking the time, the sound, and the feel of their language, you’ll get closer to fluency much faster once you start adding even the smallest amount of vocabulary. Being able to say hello, goodbye, how are you, and a few other basic phrases with a legitimate-sounding accent and tempo will give the outward impression that you know what you’re doing—and the inward confidence that every new word you learn will feel more authentic than if you had just memorized phrases without ever hearing the language.
I’m a jazz musician, and this method of bridging the gap between listening and playing has been my life’s work. I still practice it almost every day. That doesn’t always mean transcribing pages and pages of John Coltrane solos, but my intent is always guided by curiosity. As soon as I hear something great—or something I don’t immediately understand—I switch into transcription mode and get down to work.
“Singing along to a bass line is priceless. It not only locks the rhythm into your brain, but it also builds instinct for where the root motion of the harmony is going.”
Vocalizing as I listen has always been a fantastic way to get into transcription. It’s not great for anyone listening—I’m a horrific singer—but it’s not about singing all the pitches perfectly in tune. It’s about getting the feel and the rhythmic language of the music embedded in your brain long before you pick up your instrument to learn it, or put pen to paper to write it down. Singing along to a bass line is priceless. It not only locks the rhythm into your brain, but it also builds instinct for where the root motion of the harmony is going. More often than not, the bass is at the bottom of the chord, and being able to pick out the root motion is a superpower when it comes to learning songs or working in a band.
And if, as a result of active listening, vocalizing, and transcription, you build a strong connection between your ear and your instrument, then the feel of the music is always going to be front and center.
Even though everyone in the band should be equally responsible for the time and the feel of a song, we all know that bass players often shoulder more of that weight. We have so much rhythmic and harmonic control from our position in the mix that I think it’s imperative we work even harder on our feel than everyone else. Call me biased, but I think history might back me up on that one.
After their Covid-delayed, smash-success reunion tour a few years back, My Chemical Romance plotted the Long Live the Black Parade North American stadium tour this past summer.
PG’s Chris Kies joined the run at Soldier Field in Chicago, and before the show, he rendezvoused with techs James Bowman, Josh Schreibeis, and Joe Saucedo—who handle Frank Iero, Ray Toro and Mikey Way’s rigs, respectively—for a look at the axes, amps, and effects the heavy-hitting emo titans are using these days.
After Iero got this Castedosa Marianna Semi Hollow, it became the show starter for this summer’s tour. This, and all other guitars, are tuned down a half step with Ernie Ball Paradigm strings (.011–.052).
Bury Me in White
Iero favors Ernie Ball StingRays like this one, in matte “Stormtrooper” white. The only mod on this guitar is the addition of Luminlay dots on the side of the neck.
One and Done
This 1992 GibsonLes Paul gets played only for the title track off the band’s 2006 record, The Black Parade.
Under Pressure
This tiny, light Abernethy Guitars electric takes Bowman forever to string. If anyone has tips, send them his way.
Purple Reign
After using Marshall Super Lead heads with the Dookie mod on the previous tour, Iero found these slick purple heads and brought them to Dave Friedman to match the Dookie specs and add some EQ tweaks. These two, a main and backup, are responsible for the bulk of Iero’s sounds.
A Fender Twin Reverb onstage is responsible for “small-amp sounds,” while a Twin Reverb Tone Master underneath it sends a clean DI signal for the mix in Iero’s in-ear monitors.
Welcome to the Rack Parade
Iero’s backstage rack includes three main racks of effects, all powered by Strymon Zumas.
The first carries a Mesa Boogie 5-Band Graphic EQ, Amaze by Analogman Prince of Tone, Bowman Audio Endeavors Bowman Overdrive, JHS Hard Drive, and Hayashi Craft Trick Gain.
Drawer two is about modulation, and includes a Boss TR-2, MXR Phase 100, Boss DM-2W, EarthQuaker Devices Ghost Echo, EHX Micro POG, and EHX Holy Grail.
The last drawer bears a Jackson Audio Twin Twelve, EHX Deluxe Memory Man, Ibanez Tube Screamer Overdrive Pro, and Bowman Audio Bellyacher.
Toro’s Top
Toro plays this 1978 Les Paul to start the show, including tracks “The End.,” “Dead!,” and “House of Wolves.” He runs .011–.052-gauge strings on all his guitars.
Second Fiddle
This sunburst Les Paul has been outpaced by the black ’78, but it still comes out for “Welcome to the Black Parade” and “Famous Last Words.”
Super 6
This 2005 Fender Custom Shop Telecaster sees action on six tunes in the band’s set.
Ray Toro’s Amps
A head combo of a Marshall JMP and Metropoulos Amplification Metro (both running into Fryette PS-100s) comprise Toro’s main tones, while an Amplified Nation Wonderland Overdrive 1x12 combo is used for solo sounds, and a Fender Deluxe Reverb handles cleans. Toro’s signal is pumped through two 4x12 cabs—one Marshall, one Bad Cat.
Ray’s Really Rockin’ Rack Rig
A Shure Axient wireless system sends his guitar’s signal to this system backstage, where it hits a Radial JX44 and a pair of RJM Effect Gizmos.
One drawer holds an MXR Duke of Tone, MXR Custom Badass ’78 Distortion, Boss GE-7, Boss CH-1, Kernom Moho, Kernom Ridge, and Wampler Gearbox.
In the next are two Boss GE-7s, two Bowman Overdrives, a Death by Audio Fuzz War, a Source Audio EQ2, a Bowman Bellyacher, and a Keeley Compressor Mini.
The third shelf is home to an EHX POG2, 1981 Inventions DRV, Chase Bliss Preamp MK II, Boss TR-2, MXR Carbon Copy, Keeley Loomer, and MXR EVH Phase 90.
A fourth level hosts a Strymon TimeLine, Strymon BigSky, and Source Audio EQ2.
Out onstage at his feet, Toro keeps a pedalboard with a TC Electronic PolyTune, a custom RJM Mastermind PBC/6X, Ibanez TS808, Bowman Audio Bowman Overdrive, EHX Micro POG, Boss TR-2, MXR Carbon Copy, and Strymon BigSky.
Strymon Zumas keep everything chugging along.
Comeback Kid
This silver-sparkle Fender Jazz bass was built for the band’s reunion tour, intended to mimic Way’s earlier signature model. It’s since been treated to more affordable Mexico-made production runs. Way runs Ernie Ball Hybrid Slinky strings (.045–.105) and plays with Clayton triangle picks.
Red!
This eye-catcher was made by Fender’s Brian Thrasher, and is equipped with pickups from the Adam Clayton signature bass. Way relies heavily on this one, then switches to an identical one for down tunings.
Dodger That
Way secured permission from Major League Baseball and the Los Angeles Dodgers to use the team’s exact hue of blue on this custom instrument.
Mikey Way’s Amp
Way runs through a Fender Super Bassman head into matching 8x10 cabs, with a DI signal also running to front of house.
Mikey Way’s Effects
Way keeps things simple. Along with an Origin Effects DCX Bass and Cali76 set to push his Super Bassman, his setup includes a pair of Aguilar Agros, an MXR Sub Octave Bass Fuzz, and a Malekko B:assmaster.
Over four decades, the Grammy-winning English bassist has held down the bottom for Roxy Music, Bryan Ferry, Pink Floyd, and David Gilmour. He’s recorded with everyone from Pete Townshend to Madonna and Michael Jackson, and he’s also a popular podcaster and stand-up comic. Whatever’s next, he’s ready.
If Guy Pratt’s name doesn’t resonate with you, his bass playing certainly has. He’s held the low end down for Pink Floyd and David Gilmour since 1987’s Momentary Lapse of Reason tour, and elsewhere in the Floydian universe he’s a member of Nick Mason’s Saucerful of Secrets, which specializes in the legendary band’s early music.
But wait, as the old huckster’s line goes, there’s more. Lots more. He’s also a longtime member of Roxy Music and Bryan Ferry’s band, and has toured with the Smiths. As part of the new wave band Icehouse in the early ’80s, he scored on the European and Australian charts and opened for David Bowie, and then springboarded into a series of higher profile gigs. In the studio, those have included sessions for recordings by Gary Moore, Michael Jackson (“Earth Song”), Tears for Fears, Echo & the Bunnymen, Iggy Pop, Tom Jones, Whitesnake, the Orb, Debbie Harry, Robbie Robertson, Madonna (“Like a Prayer”), and, in 2022, Pete Townshend. He also shared a Grammy for his playing on “Marooned” from Pink Floyd’s The Division Bell.
And yes, there’s still more. In addition to Pratt’s many TV, film, and theater scores, the amiable London native embarked on a sideline of stand-up comedy beginning in 2005, when he took his one-man-plus-bass show to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. That show, My Bass and Other Animals, spawned his book, and he’s toured two more original comedy productions since. In his sparetime, he started a podcast, Rockontours, with Spandau Ballet’s Gary Kemp, a co-conspirator in the Saucerfull of Secrets band. Their famous guests, spinning tales of the musical life, have included Nick Mason, Bob Geldorf, Phil Manzanera, Trevor Horn, Chris Difford, and Adam Duritz over 213 episodes.
Last year, fortunate concertgoers got a chance to hear Pratt on Gilmour’s 21-concert, four-city tour behind Luck and Strange, an album where Pratt’s playing is woven into the deep currents that support the gorgeous tide of music created by the guitar giant and his hand-picked ensemble in the studio.
There’s an old saying among musicians that if you always want a gig, play bass or drums. Just before his teens, Pratt settled for bass. “I wanted an electric guitar,” he recalls. “I fell in love with electric guitar. Simple as that. I begged my parents, and of course mum said, ‘Oh darling, why don’t you get a nice Spanish guitar?’ ‘Spanish?! I’ll do that at school.’ Rock ’n’ roll was outside the school gates back then; it wasn't where we are now. And it had to be electric. The joke I would say is that actually a toaster would have been closer to what I was after than a Spanish guitar. So I asked for a bass. My mum and dad clubbed together and got me—because my birthday’s near Christmas—a bass guitar for Christmas and birthday. It was really weird … huge and kind of confusing, and I didn’t have an amp. But when I went back to school two weeks later, there were three kids who had got electric guitars for Christmas. Of course, if they wanted to be a band, they needed me, so I had my pick.” And so Pratt’s career began.
Pratt with his favorite bass, “Betsy,” a 1960 Fender Jazz model, in his home studio.
Dunlop Tortex Triangle .88 mm (for older Pink Floyd songs)
I’ve been listening to your playing since the ’80s, when you started working with Bryan Ferry and with David Gilmour and Pink Floyd. Your tone has evolved over the decades, from what I would describe as a pointier sound.
Yeah, it was all front end. I was playing a Steinberger and it was bridge pickup. There was a lot of slapping. In the ’80s, bass was almost doing a different job because with a lot stuff I did there was a keyboard bass as well. Like when I used to work with [producer, drummer, and an original member of Duran Duran and the Lilac Time] Stephen Duffy, often I would go into the studio and I went on after the vocal. And my job was to kind of put stuff in the gaps, more like a horn part than bass.
It was the first drum-machine generation, and suddenly LinnDrums were everywhere. The bass wasn’t necessarily doing the job it had to do. You weren’t in the room with the drummer laying the thing down. With the birth of hip-hop and the new romantics and then bands like Simple Minds, everyone was coming from a quite funky perspective. There was a lot of stuff happening with technology and the bass responded really well to technology, with the Steinberger and various effects and amps. It felt like guitar was really taking a back seat at that time, too.
I mean, I was an asshole. Twenty-one-year-olds are assholes, aren’t they? So I guess the way I would look at it is I’m now a bass player. And maybe I needed the 40 years to become one. [laughs]
At what point do you feel like you made that transition?
I think it started on the ’94 Floyd tour. That’s when I suddenly started thinking, “Wait a minute, what are you doing here? You should be playing a Precision with a pick.” And then I kept at it. By 2006, the [David Gilmour] On an Island tour … I would say since then I’ve been a grown-up, if you will.
“There’s no need for a sixteenth note on the bass anywhere in this music, ever.”
You’ve mentioned retooling your gear specifically to address that sort of deeper, more grown-up tone. And you’ve spoken about a particular instrument that you created—part Jazz Bass and part Hofner.
Bill Nash, who’s a friend and who makes the most beautiful guitars and basses, gave me a Telecaster bass. And it had one of those open [uncovered] pickups on it, but it also had a Jazz pickup. It’s got my Luck and Strangesticker on it, because it’s my Luck and Strange bass, and a stack knob. And the thing was, I was trying to think where to use it. On “The Piper’s Call,” David got ahold of the violin bass and noodled around, and it’s gorgeous stuff. I played a big, rounded Fender part that David told me to. Of course, when it came to rehearsing for the live shows, David said, “Well, obviously you’re doing both parts.” And I thought, “How the hell am I doing that?” Because there’s the Fender part and this nice little “do-do-do” going on top. I tried playing it with a violin bass. That just didn't work. It’s too small, just too insubstantial for me to hold. And it didn’t work on the Fender. So then I thought, “What would David do?” Because he’s really good at coming up with A-team-type solutions for things, like re-tuning his lap steel so he’s got a major and a minor chord. I was trying to think of a version of that, and I said, “Ah-ha! What if I take this Nash bass, and on the top strings, the D and the G, put on flatwounds, and then get a bit of foam and stick it under just the top two strings.”
What I always find interesting when rehearsing with David is what he remembers from bass parts. “You need to play that”—that sort of thing. A lot of the music is so slow and so big and there’s so much space in it. Very often it’s actually the length of the notes rather than how many notes you’re playing that matters more. With David, and this is something I get with the wisdom of years, every note does count. It’s quite funny when I think back to what I used to play in jams with him, like when we did a week of the Division Bell rehearsals. I was still stuck in that thing of playing sixteenth-note parts. It’s just like, “Why?” There’s no need for a sixteenth note on the bass anywhere in this music, ever.
Pratt, at left, alongside Gilmour (center) and drummer Adam Betts play Pink Floyd’s classic “Time” at Madison Square Garden on November 4, 2024.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
Your career started, essentially, playing in new wave bands and on sessions, including Madonna’s “Like a Prayer.” But now you’re best known for your work with Pink Floyd, Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music, David Gilmour … more atmospheric music. What was that transition like for you?
There’s a quote: “As you live your life, it seems this absolutely chaotic, random set of events. And then when you get towards the end and you look back, it’s like the most beautifully plotted novel.” When I was playing with Icehouse, [frontman] Iva Davies wore his influences on his sleeve: Simple Minds, Bowie, Ferry, which was great stuff. I loved it. So I became versed in that style of playing. When we were making the second album, we got Rhett Davis, who was Roxy Music’s producer, for one of two reasons. Iva sang so much like Bryan Ferry that it was like, “If he’s gonna do Bryan, let’s do this properly.” Or Davis’ gonna go, “Come off it! Be yourself.” Anyway, it was fantastic working with him and we really got on. So it came to pass that I auditioned for Bryan and I got the gig. Even though I’d already worked with Robert Palmer, who was a huge, huge hero, this was different. Working for Bryan was crossing the Rubicon—as big as Bowie, an absolute icon in my head. So anything after that, Pink Floyd, nothing was gonna get bigger anymore. It was like, “This is Bryan fucking Ferry, you know?” Bryan is still my longest working relationship. I’ve been working with Bryan for 40 years.
“Something that I really noticed on the tour is it feels like David now owns his past. He’s not owned by it.”
Focusing on David, who you’ve been working with for 38 years, did that relationship start after he played on Bryan Ferry’s Boys and Girls sessions?
The first thing was, I was playing for Dream Academy and David had produced them. He needed a support band for this one show in Birmingham. It’s quite funny because Nick Laird-Clowes, the main guy from Dream Academy, is this fantastic, enthusiastic character. And he said, “David’s heard your playing. He thinks you’re amazing. He can’t wait to meet you”—which of course was just bollocks. So we get up there in Birmingham. I’m terrified. And he said, “David’s just dying to meet you.” And I went in and just stood in his dressing room and it was awful. We both stood there with nothing to say until one of us had to walk away. David, being the ranking officer, got to be the one who walked away. And that was the end of it. But I got to spend a bit of time with him with Bryan, which sort of loosened things up a bit. And I started just seeing him out and about. I think I was just getting invited to better parties. [laughs]
So, I went on holiday to Thailand and I came back and there’s all these messages from David. The first one saying hi, he was doing an Amnesty International concert, the Secret Policeman’s Ball, and he wanted me to play with him and Kate Bush. And there’s another message and another message. “Hi Guy, just wondered, it’s next week you know.” And then, of course, he had to get someone else. I’m like, “My god, that was my one shot.”
A while later, David, Rick [Floyd keyboardist Richard Wright], and Nick were saying they were doing a new Pink Floyd album, and I didn’t think any more about it until I got a phone call from L.A., and it’s David going, “Hi. We’re putting Pink Floyd back together.” He said, the tour was gonna be a year, and would I be interested and available? So I went, “Yes!” And he said, “Oh, not working much, then?” And that started our relationship of him ribbing me and me constantly falling for it. That’s been the hallmark of our relationship for the last 38 years.
David’s latest solo album, Luck and Strange, seems perhaps more organic than most of the Pink Floyd albums he’s helmed and his earlier solo work. After all these years working with him, you’re in a good position to comment on that. Is there something different that you find within it?
I know what you mean. There’s definitely been something different about this album, about the way it’s been received, about the tour. It was hugely successful in a way that some people’s solo records could only dream of. On An Island is where it started. There are quite a few people now who will point to the song “On An Island”’s solo as on a par with “Comfortably Numb.” But there’s something about this one, a sound. And a lot of that’s to do with Charlie Andrew and Matt Glasbey's engineering. It feels of a piece. And something that I really noticed on the tour is it feels like David now owns his past. He’s not owned by it. And for me, if you look at the set list, well over half is songs I played on. It’s always been quite piecemeal with David’s other records. I’ve gone in for a couple of days here and there, but David’s played quite a lot of bass himself. He’s brilliant.
With David, there is always this thing where suddenly he’s puttering about, then puttering about a bit more, and then suddenly “bam,” we’re in gear—there’s an album. We did a whole week in British Grove Studios with Steve Gadd, which was amazing. His playing wounds you, gets you in the chest. It’s so light and so potent. It’s just gorgeous. Why I think he was such a great call is that, in all my years with all those elite drummers, Steve is the closest to Nick.
Pratt and Gilmour share a smile during the Luck and Strange tour rehearsals.
Photo by Paul McManus
I think Nick is a vastly underappreciated drummer. I love his playing. It’s so conversational.
That’s a great way of putting it. Yes, he absolutely was underappreciated, in the same way, if you remember years ago, that David was actually a somewhat underrated guitarist. And you know, I’ve noticed that with all the top drummers I talk to now, everyone’s like, “Nick Mason, man!” It seems like he can take his playing anywhere he wants to and feel utterly relaxed at the same time. And what’s been amazing with the Saucers, because we’re doing all that early stuff, is it’s so crazy, manic. I get worried for him, you know. “Should someone have a heart monitor on him or something?” But that stuff doesn’t seem to bother him at all. It’s fantastic.
I need to ask, what was it like playing onstage in Pompeii? A beautiful setting; what an extraordinary experience.
At the risk of sounding unbearably smug. I’m one of the small group of people that played Pompeii twice. With David, we were on a stage at the end of the amphitheater. It was so small, we just had the screen, there was no sides, there was no roof; it was mad. There was only 1,800 people, so it was like a club gig. It was fantastic. And with the Saucers, we played at the Teatro, which is the theater, which is really small but lovely, in a different part of the complex, but it’s still Pompeii. But we did it in the middle of an absolutely horrendous heatwave. So it was nearly 40 degrees [104 Fahrenheit] and we couldn’t sound check. The poor crew were wilting and we basically just had to sit on the bus and then went in through the audience, did the show, and left. Whereas with David, we had Mary Beard, the great historian with us. We were there for four days.
“At the risk of sounding unbearably smug, I’m one of the small group of people that have played Pompeii twice.”
You’ve done extensive film and television work. How did you get into that?
I love working on film. I used to work with Michael Kamen a lot. I love working to picture. I also love that it is a great way of writing music and not having to finish it. Usually, you come up with a great piece of music and, okay, well now I need a verse, now I need a bridge. Whereas with a film score, it’s like this character needs something. That’s it. Then you move on. TV music is like the demo version of film music. No one expects a real orchestra, so you’re kind of going, if this was a film, the music would be doing this. Of course, now everyone’s got massive screens and 5.1, so the stakes are higher.
That came about through me hanging about at the Groucho Club, which is this big media arts club in London, and just telling people I wanted to do film music. The first thing I did was a documentary … on the Roswell autopsy. That was completely fake, but it was perfect. This was was mid-’90s, so it was the whole electronica and ambient house, chill, Orb scene. So perfect for that sort of film. But then I got this fantastic gig, which I’m still really proud of, which is this TV series, Spaced, with the director Edgar Wright, with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost starring in it. Edgar, if you know from his films, is such a film nerd, so literally everything is a reference. It was brilliant. I had to do Kubrick. There’s a bit of what looks like a zombie movie, so I had to kind of write a John Carpenter score.
To recreate the sounds from the Gilmour, Floyd, Roxy, and Ferry catalog, Pratt employs this extensive pedalboard.
You’re also a podcaster, and your Rockonteurs, with Gary Kemp, is very entertaining, with its “behind the music” approach
The podcast came about literally from the first Saucer Full of Secrets tour. We had this tour bus and this is long enough ago that the bus actually had a DVD player. And I brought a box set of The Old Grey Whistle Test, which is the legendary 1970s English music TV show. We used to watch it on the bus, and it was just brilliant. Everyone had an opinion about every act that was on, or a story. Of course, half the time Nick knew them and he’d have some great stories and we’d be talking about it, and someone said, “Man, we should do a podcast.”
We didn’t know it was gonna fly at all. We had this address book, we just asked a few mates to come and do it. And it just became a thing, you know, and it’s really nice because no matter how well I know the artists, we always get something I’ve never heard. We had a couple of scoops. My favorite got on the front page of TheTimesand The Guardian, when Whispering Bob Harris, who used to present The Old Grey Whistle Test, told us that Nixon asked Elvis to spy on John Lennon.
“All musicians have really funny stories because it’s a kind of preposterous life we lead.”
You also do a one man bass-and-jokes comedy shows?
All musicians have really funny stories because it’s a kind of preposterous life we lead. So I started telling them, with my bass in hand, and it did really well. So then I had to write a book [My Bass and Other Animals]. I went around the world with it, been to Australia four times.
It’s something I really like, because I knew I was never going to do a solo musical thing. I really love the job of the bass. I mean, I’m very happy being the center of attention at a table or whatever. But in a musical set, I really love that thing of playing the instrument that just makes everyone else work. But there’s a syndrome I call “sideman bitterness” that I’ve seen happen a lot. When people start getting to their 50s or whatever, it’s like, “Where’s my shit?” And so I thought, “Well, I need to do something on my own to avoid that.”
Another thing is that when you get up on stage with Bryan Ferry and play “Love Is the Drug,” you’ve got a pretty good idea of how it’s going to go. With David Gilmour, when you play “Wish You Were Here,” you’ve got a pretty good idea of it. What I love with stand-up is that I get up there and people don’t really know what I’m gonna do. They don’t really know what they’ve come to see. I’m not entirely sure about it. It’s completely fresh, in the moment. And I think that’s something that might have made me a better bass player, in a way. Because now I’ve had it all on my shoulders, so it’s really nice to go back and just be the guy playing bass.
YouTube It
David Gilmour is Guy Pratt and Gary Kemp’s guest on this episode of the Rockonteurs podcast.
The doomgaze titans from Texas hit the road this year to celebrate more than two decades together, and they brought some of their favorite noisemakers for the occasion.
Post-rock/doomgaze outfit This Will Destroy You, formed in San Marcos, Texas, in 2004, are marking 21 years together, and 20 years of their self-recorded debut Young Mountain, with an anniversary tour. In late June, the band played Nashville’s Basement East, where guitarists Jeremy Galindo and Nicholas Huft and bassist Ethan Billips met up with PG’s Chris Kies to share what gear they packed for the roadtrip.
Galindo started off playing electric on his brother’s FenderTelecaster, and he’s never looked back. He’s played various models over the years, but got this Fender American Performer Telecaster two years ago. He strings it with .011–.052 strings for slightly more body and fullness, and tunes it to E-flat standard. Galindo mostly plays with his fingers, but when he picks he uses some of the thinnest picks he can find.
No Tubes? No Problems
A Music Man HD-130 is Galindo’s always-and-forever, but on the road, he likes this Roland Jazz Chorus 120 for its tubeless reliability and easy clean sounds.
Jeremy Galindo’s Pedalboard
The Boss DD-20 Giga Delay and Tech 21 Boost R.V.B. have been with Galindo since the early days, and he considers the Tech 21 to be the most essential tool of his kit. Aside from those, there’s a Walrus Canvas Tuner, Ernie Ball VP JR, Friday Club Fury 6-Six, Walrus Jupiter, Walrus Fundamental Ambient, Boss RE-20, and Mr. Black Deluxe Plus. A Walrus Aetos powers the party.
Smooth as Sandpaper
This Fender Jazzmaster, Huft’s first, was bought from Full of Hell guitarist Spencer Hazard, who equipped it with its “awful sandpaper texture” finish. Huft doesn’t use the rhythm circuit, so he’s taped it off. He plays with both pickups engaged at all times, including the humbucker rail pickup in the bridge.
United Solid-States
Huft has a soft spot for 1970s solid-state amplification, which makes this Peavey Standard Mark III series a perfect match for TWDY: It’s cheap, and it’s loud.
Nicholas Huft’s Pedalboard
Along with an ABY switcher, Huft runs a Boss TU-3, Ernie Ball VP JR, Gremlin Machine Shop Worshiper, Dead Air Portrayal of Guilt/Matt King Dual Drive, Boss DD-200, Boss RC-500, Red Panda Context, Boss DD-3T, Beautiful Noise Exploder, and Walrus Slo.
Cheap and Cheerful
Billips explains that he and his bandmates grew up on cheap instruments, and they still feel like home, so that’s why he rocks with this Marcus Miller Sire bass.
Community Cranker
Billips and his bandmates split on this Darkglass Electronics Microtubes 500 v2 head, which they share collectively.
Ethan Billips’ Pedalboard
Billips runs an Ernie Ball VP JR Tuner, a prototype bass overdrive from Mr. Black, a Death by Audio Bass War, Walrus Badwater, Danelectro Talk Back, Catalinbread Topanga, and a Radial BigShot ABY.
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