
The reclusive pedal builder discusses the origins of his famed Centaur overdrive, the more affordable new KTR design, and how one pedal can inspire so much adoration and disdain.
If you've spent any amount of time on guitar-gear forums, you know they can often devolve into pretty abrasive battles of opinion. Even when a thread starts out with the best of intentions, it's not uncommon for it to morph into the online equivalent of a mythical Hydra. Forum administrators attempt to clean things up and lock out the more abusive commenters, but once they cut off one of the creature's heads, two more appear.
Of all the forum topics that can inspire such heated debate, few inspire more passion, awe, and vitriol than a guitar pedal named after a different sort of mythological creature. Launched in 1994 at the front end of the modern-day boutique-pedal boom, the Klon Centaur overdrive was immediately met with critical acclaim. So much so that it's ironic how much the pedal named after the half-human, half-horse creatures from Greek legend has since developed such a complex mythology of its own. And the fact that this seemingly mundane, 3-knob stompbox is used by such high-profile players as Jeff Beck, John Mayer, Joe Perry, Nels Cline, and Matt Schofield only compounds matters. Never mind the fact that the majority of the circuit comes encased in epoxy.
We recently spoke to Klon's Bill Finnegan about the origins of the Centaur, his new KTR design—which made a (naturally) limited debut in October of 2012—and how an overdrive pedal can fetch more than $1,000 on the used market and inspire such emotionally charged reactions.
Birth of a Centaur
In the 1980s, Bill Finnegan played in a band where he plugged his Telecaster straight into a Twin Reverb turned up as loud as the soundman would permit. In bigger Boston-area clubs, the Twin's volume would be at 6 or sometimes even 7, but in smaller places Finnegan could usually turn it up to only 3 1/2 or 4. The latter still sounded good, but not as harmonically rich as when the amp was working harder. Although it didn't occur to him at the time, a pedal that would give him the sound of a cranked amp is exactly what he needed.
Finnegan recalls that, in 1990, guitarists began chasing after out-of-production Ibanez Tube Screamers in droves. He'd heard about a guy who was selling two TS9s, and—hoping one of the little green pedals would help make his Twin sound like it was at 6 when it was only at 4—he went to check them out. It immediately became clear that Tube Screamers were not for him.
Finnegan built Centaurs—around 8,000 in total—by hand, on a cheap folding card table in a succession of small apartments for 15 years.
“[The TS9] compressed the transient response of the original signal a lot, had a midrange character I didn't like, and subtracted a noticeable amount of bass response from the signal as well," he explains. The same seller also had a TS808 that he wasn't selling. And, though Finnegan thought it sounded a little better than the TS9s, he still felt it had the aforementioned shortcomings. What he really wanted was a big, open sound, with a hint of tube clipping—a sound that would make you unaware a pedal was involved.
That's when Finnegan starting looking into creating a new design that would meet those criteria. He recruited a friend who'd just graduated from MIT with an electrical engineering degree. Though both had day jobs, for the next couple of years they got together once a week and tried to push the ball down the field. Within the first year, they'd developed prototypes that were much closer to what Finnegan wanted than a Tube Screamer, and various guitarists in the Boston area encouraged them to go into production so they could buy their own. But Finnegan felt the circuit could still be improved, so he and his partner kept working.
Eventually, the MIT friend bought a house in the suburbs and the distance made it harder to work together. Finnegan later partnered with the late Fred Fenning (who tragically passed away in a plane crash in the mid '90s)—another MIT grad whom Finnegan says was brilliant and very determined. Although Fenning had never designed an audio circuit and had no real interest in music, he was exceptionally good at finding ways to give the circuit what Finnegan thought it needed at any given time. Finnegan says Fenning deserves a lot of credit for the circuit in both the Centaur and its successor, the KTR.
Photo by Sarah Pollman
The entire design process took four and a half years, and when the pedal debuted at the end of '94 Finnegan was soon very busy trying to keep up with the demand—building, testing, and shipping the pedals as a single-man outfit.
Evolution of the Legend
From that point on, demand for Centaur pedals grew. Finnegan says he typically worked 55–60 hours per week in effort to keep turnaround times as short as possible, though he was hindered by the fact that the circuit was very labor intensive and time consuming. He also says it was more expensive to build than most other pedals due to the fact that everything from its cast enclosure to its knobs, pots, and sheet-metal bottom were custom crafted. Finnegan estimates the aggregate cost of a Centaur as seven to eight times that of a pedal built with off-the-shelf parts.
“For the last seven years or so of Centaur production, the retail price was $329," says Finnegan, “and to be honest, my profit margin was not very sensible—no real business person would have considered, for more than a moment, doing what I was doing for the return I was receiving. Also, given that I live in Boston, it was impossible for me to hire people and expand: Real estate here is in short supply and very expensive, so there was no possibility of my renting commercial space to set up an actual shop."
Finnegan built Centaurs—around 8,000 in total—by hand, on a cheap folding card table in a succession of small apartments for 15 years. In addition to the modest returns from his efforts, Finnegan says he felt immense stress as he tried to oblige those who wanted a Centaur but didn't want to pay the inflated price used specimens were fetching because of the 12- to 14-week turnaround time for a new one. It gradually became clear to Finnegan that the situation was unsustainable.
“These two photos show my testing jig for Centaur boards, with one of my experimental boards on it," Bill Finnegan shares. “The experimental boards have sockets for every component in the circuit, which enables me to listen to any particular component and then swap it out for a substitute while keep everything else the same. This experimental board is the one I used for developing the KTR. Unlike the Centaur which had through-hole components with leads, I wanted to use surface-mount components for the KTR, which meant that my assistant, John Perotti, and I had to spend an enormous amount of time soldering through-hole leads onto hundreds of very small surface-mount components so that we could evaluate them and choose the ones that would make the KTR sound the same as the Centaur did."
Photo by Nolan Yee.
“I was going to have to kill it before it could kill me," Finnegan recalls. In 2008, he began working on a ground-up redesign that had to meet the following criteria: It had to be straightforward to build, so that any good contract manufacturing firm would be able to do the job easily and well. It had to be rugged and reliable. It had to be a design with no hookup wires whatsoever, and with a modular footswitch assembly so that faulty footswitches could be replaced in a few minutes. It had to be considerably smaller than the Centaur. Except for the all-important clipping diodes, it had to have surface-mount components, which take up less space on a board than traditional through-hole components. Finnegan also wanted to prove—to himself and to those who said it couldn't be done—that, with careful component selection and smart board layout, he could design a successor that would sound exactly the same as the Centaur.
“This turned out to be quite a challenge," Finnegan says. “My assistant, John Perotti, and I spent almost two years listening to different surface-mount capacitors in various places in the circuit before I felt this had been achieved." Lastly, he wanted the new unit to be visually unique—a tall order, given that the unit would be housed in a standard enclosure.
I don't have any overall preference for single-coil guitars or humbucker guitars myself. I like pretty much everything under the sun in the way of electric guitars, and over the years I've owned a bunch of very different ones.
The one new feature Finnegan wanted to incorporate was a switch that enabled the player to choose the buffered output of the original Centaur or a true-bypass output. “Without the buffer there is a very noticeable degradation of the signal due to the capacitance inherent in guitar cables," says Finnegan, “but some people prefer it, so I wanted to provide that option in the new unit." He quickly adds, “My good friend Paul Cochrane—of Tim and Timmy [pedals] fame—was the guy who designed the switching circuitry, so a tip of the hat to Paul."
It took a long, long time to finish the KTR. And though Finnegan says it was much more difficult than he expected, he feels it has achieved all of his design objectives. “It sounds the same as the Centaur, takes up considerably less space on a pedalboard, is less expensive, and it's distinctive aesthetically—it's got the Klon thing going on." He laughs, “Whatever the Klon thing is."
You obviously have high expectations from your designs, though you're also perplexed by the reactions it inspires. What do you want people to see in Klon?
What I want people to expect from me and from Klon are designs that are exceptional in the literal sense of the term—designs that are conceptually sound and well executed. Designs that are unique and not to be expected from any other designer, no matter how talented.
When you were designing the Centaur, did you begin with any assumptions about players who'd be interested in it?
I was working from the assumption that there were a lot of guitar players with really good guitars and really good amps who were looking for an overdrive pedal that—whether it was adding dirt or not itself—wouldn't mess up what they already had and liked. Given the popularity of the Centaur and now the KTR, I would say that this has been borne out.
In your opinion, do the pedals work better with single-coils or humbuckers?
Neither. I don't have any overall preference for single-coil guitars or humbucker guitars myself. I like pretty much everything under the sun in the way of electric guitars, and over the years I've owned a bunch of very different ones. Each of them has its own particular thing going on, and when I was working on the design of the circuit I was always thinking about how it could be more effective in preserving and accentuating the essence of whatever instrument it was receiving the signal of.
What can you tell us about Centaur units that occasionally turn up on eBay with the claim that they are “new, with full warranty"—are they fakes?
I have a very close friend who is a single mom and whose job doesn't pay all that well. Every now and then she needs a little help, financially. I'm aware of what the used units are selling for, so at some point after I discontinued the Centaur it occurred to me that—if and when she needed me to—I could build a Centaur and give it to her to sell on eBay and use the proceeds to keep going. This has worked really nicely, and I'll continue to do it for as long as my old Centaur parts last. Since I discontinued the Centaur, a lot of people have asked me whether I'd consider building one for them—sometimes offering me pretty substantial amounts of money—but I'm not going to do that. The only Centaurs I build anymore are the ones I build for her, and I don't make or collect a single cent from them.
Klon builder Bill Finnegan wanted to include this text—which refers to the dialogue surrounding his famed Centaur design—on the casing of his new KTR pedal. “It's a wry observation that I can't be held responsible for the overheated emotions that have been introduced into various Klon debates since the earliest days of the Centaur," he says. “I knew that in using that text I'd be stirring things up some, but I thought it would be interesting and fun to see how, in reacting to it, people would self-select into either the 'love it' or the 'hate it' group."
Photo by Nolan Yee.
Do you think Centaurs will retain their high value now that the KTR is available?
Yes, in general I think they will. They're collectible and—with the one small exception I just mentioned—no more will be built, unless I'm very mistaken. For almost everyone, the KTR is a much more sensible option now: It sounds the same, it's much smaller, it's way the hell less expensive—$269 retail—and you don't have to worry about losing something that's worth $1,000 or $1,500 or $2,000 if it's stolen. On the other hand, the Centaur has something of its own that people really like and are willing to pay serious money for. The design has achieved a certain status—I would use the analogy of old, custom-colored Marshalls. I have two small-box, 50-watt Marshall Lead heads—model 1987s: One is a black-Tolex, aluminum-panel head from 1970, and the other is a red-Tolex, plexi-panel head from 1969. They have the same circuitry and sound almost identical, but of course the red one is worth way more than the black one. I like cool, distinctive things as much as the next guy, so I'm not in a position to criticize someone for being willing to pay more than I myself would, or more than most people would, if they want it that much.
What are the demographics of the typical Klon user?
It seems to be more or less everyone. Baby-boomer guys who are still only interested in the music they grew up with, but also a lot of younger, indie-rock people, and also a number of musicians whose work is more experimental and can't be easily categorized.
What can you tell us about the germanium diode you like so much in your circuits?
In 1993 and '94, when it was clear that Fred and I were getting close to producing what I thought was the full measure of what our circuit was capable of, I started buying quantities of every diode I thought might be at all suitable for the head-to-toe pair that clips the signal, except for when the circuit is in clean-boost mode. This was pre-internet, so I was going to the public library, looking up distributors in the Thomas Register, and then calling those distributors to find out what they had—email was still in the future then! I started out ordering both germanium and silicon diodes, but pretty quickly I began concentrating on the germaniums. Usually, though not always, they sounded more natural to me than the silicon ones did. After months and months of listening, I felt a particular new-old-stock germanium diode sounded best in the circuit, so I thought I should buy as many of those as I could afford. Eventually, I found a distributor that had a significant quantity of them. They were stocking them for a huge OEM, who—without any warning, I gather—stopped using that part. I bought them all at a good price. The distributor was thrilled to be able to sell them and not have to eat them.
Does the KTR have the same diodes?
Yes, the KTR has the exact same NOS diodes as all Centaurs did.
Since I discontinued the Centaur, a lot of people have asked me whether I'd consider building one for them—sometimes offering me pretty substantial amounts of money—but I'm not going to do that.
What is it you like about the sound of that diode when it clips?
It's a little more complicated than that, because the diode clipping happens on top of some op-amp clipping in the main gain stage. So it's op-amp clipping, then diode clipping. But to answer your question, this particular diode in the head-to-toe pair in the circuit just produces a very natural-sounding distortion in terms of the harmonic response. It's not harsh, but it also doesn't round off the highs excessively. It doesn't compress the signal as much as many germanium diodes seem to, but on the other hand it provides a little bit of what—to me—is exactly the right kind of compression.
Which other pedal makers are using this particular diode?
To the best of my knowledge, no one. It's a part that's been out of production for decades now, so even if someone else could identify it, I seriously doubt they'd be able to find any—I've tried a number of times myself.
So what are you working on now?
Lately, I've been focused almost entirely on putting together a good long-term arrangement for production of the KTR. This kind of thing has always been more of a challenge for me than it seems to be for anyone else, but I admit that I do have requirements—particular things I insist on—that few, if any of those other people have, so I guess that the increased difficulty is to be expected. I'm not saying that my stuff is necessarily higher quality than anyone else's, but rather that my criteria are somewhat different and that therefore the process is necessarily also somewhat different.
What is the current availability of the KTR?
The unit should be widely available—through dealers both here in the U.S. and in various other countries—by the time this interview is published. Hopefully by then I will have found time to get some kind of updated Klon website going, which of course will have contact info for the current dealers.
The top of the KTR features some text that's apparently causing controversy with some buyers: “Kindly remember: The ridiculous hype that offends so many is not of my making."
Lots of people got the point that I was trying to make and really enjoy the text, while other people find it off-putting or even insulting. It's a wry observation that I can't be held responsible for the overheated emotions that have been introduced into various Klon debates since the earliest days of the Centaur. I knew that in using that text I'd be stirring things up some, but I thought it would be interesting and fun to see how, in reacting to it, people would self-select into either the “love it" or the “hate it" group.
Photo by West Warren.
What does the future hold for Klon?
I've been thinking about this quite a bit lately. Part of me wants to work on design ideas I have—finish those designs to my satisfaction—and then make the resulting products available. The other side of me wants to either refrain from working on those ideas or work on them, finish them to my satisfaction, and then not put the resulting products out. As you may or may not know, many unscrupulous people have expropriated my hard work on the Centaur and KTR circuits and are selling pedals that incorporate my circuit—and in at least some cases, they're making a lot of money. And apparently there is nothing I can do about this from a legal standpoint.
Quite aside from the money they're making from my work, there's the question of what those pedals sound like. My understanding is that a number of those people are claiming their versions sound “identical" to mine, which—for reasons not only pertaining to the clipping diodes you asked me about—I think is very unlikely. Whatever expertise those various people may have, I'm going to go out on a limb and state my belief that it's not likely to be a good or sufficient substitute for the experience I have with the circuit: I co-designed it, I've hand-built and listened to about 8,000 Centaur units, I spent two years working hard to make sure the KTR would sound the same as the Centaur, and I've put almost 25 years of my life into it. If those other guys' pedals don't sound right, then of course Klon's reputation—and my reputation as someone who cares deeply about the quality of what goes out under the Klon name—will inevitably take a hit.
So my feeling is this: If any new product I come out with will be ripped off immediately after its release, and if unscrupulous people will again be making money off of my work, and if on top of that Klon's reputation and my own personal reputation will be at risk every time someone decides to put out his own version of one of my designs, then where is my incentive to release anything new at all? Over the past few years, I've talked with a number of other pedal designers about this stuff—good people who design their own circuits, and whose circuits have also been ripped off—and we all agree there is now an enormous disincentive for any of us to create and release new products.
From what I understand, a lot of the people posting on various online forums seem to feel that it's a wonderful thing for the pedal consumer to have more choices—how could that be bad? Here's how it could be bad: Maybe talented pedal designers—originators—will simply stop designing pedals and take their talents elsewhere to apply them to the design of other classes of products that can't be ripped off quite so easily.
Top 5 Klon Myths
Gear forums are regularly aglow with all sorts of comments about Klon. Here are the most common misconceptions.
- The Centaur is a slightly tweaked [insert name of extant pedal here] circuit. According to Klon's Bill Finnegan, “it's a much more complex circuit than the typical overdrive/boost circuit. These claims stopped almost immediately after it was reverse-engineered in 2007 and a schematic was posted online."
- Certain Centaurs sound better than others. Finnegan says he's heard this claim about earlier units, later ones, gold ones, and silver ones. “The fact is, under the hood they're all basically the same. In 1995 I made three small changes: I added a resistor to give the circuit some protection against a static charge delivered to its input—a change that has no sonic effect. I also had the circuit board redesigned with a ground plane for better grounding—again, no sonic effect except the potential for a little less hum. And I added a resistor to give the circuit a very small amount of additional low-mid response—I wanted it to have a little more roundness when used with, say, a Strat into a Super Reverb. I made no other changes."
- The KTR doesn't/can't sound as good as the Centaur. Finnegan says this claim arises because the KTR uses surface-mount parts while the Centaur (and most other pedals) use through-hole parts. “For two years my assistant, John Perotti, and I listened to hundreds of different surface-mount parts throughout the circuit," Finnegan explains. “While it wasn't an easy or pleasant process, we both feel—and now a lot of other people feel, as well—that I achieved my design goal: With careful component selection, the KTR sounds the same as the Centaur."
- You have to play really loud for the Centaur or KTR to sound good. “You need to have the output knob high enough that the signal hits the front end of your amp harder than your bypassed signal would," says Finnegan. “In other words, you need to use the unit as an overdrive in the literal sense of the term." The assumption here is that users are pairing the Centaur or KTR with an all-tube amp. “It's always a good thing if your amp is turned up enough to get the harmonic response and distortion that are engendered by tubes clipping and output transformers saturating. This is true whether you're playing through a 4-watt or a 100-watt amp."
- Certain clones sound “exactly the same" as a Klon. Finnegan's contention is that, given several factors—especially the rarity of the Centaur's germanium clipping diodes—it would be extremely difficult to create an identical-sounding overdrive/boost.
[Updated 12/12/21[
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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.”
An all-analog ’60s-inspired tremolo marries harmonic and optical circuits that can be used independently or blended to generate phasey, throbbing magic.
Spans practical, convincing vintage trem tones and the utterly weird. Hefty build quality.
Big footprint. Can’t switch order of effects.
$299
Jackson Audio Silvertone Twin Trem
jackson.audio
Almost any effect can be used subliminally or to extremes. But tremolo is a little extra special when employed at its weirder limits. Unlike reverb or delay, for instance, which approximate phenomena heard in the natural world, tremolo from anything other than an amp or pedal tends to occur in the realm of altered states—suggesting the sexy, subterranean, and dreamy. Such moods can be conjured with any single tremolo. Put two together, though, and the simply sensual can be surreal. Modify this equation by mating two distinctly different tremolo types, and the possible sound pictures increase manifold.
The all-analog, U.S.-built Jackson Audio Silvertone Twin Trem accomplishes this by combining a syrupy harmonic tremolo—the likes of which you’d hear from an early-1960s brown-panel Fender amp—and an optical tremolo like that in a Silvertone 1484 Twin Twelve amp or black-panel Fender. Both effects can be used independently, but it’s when the two are blended that the Twin Trem shines.
Doppelganger Effect
The Twin Trem’s optical and harmonic circuits are obviously not identical twins, but each is operated via its own 3-knob array consisting of speed, depth, and a smaller volume knob that will boost or cut the output of the individual circuit. Both tremolo types modulate at speeds slower than what you hear in amplifier equivalents. I don’t have a Silvertone Twin Twelve tremolo on hand for comparison. But the slowest speed from a mid-1960s Fender optical tremolo matched the rate of the Twin Trem’s optical circuit at about the midpoint of its range. At its slowest, the optical side will cycle through minimum and maximum volume in just a little under a full second, which feels molasses-slow, stretching and enhancing the ramping effect. Maximum speeds on the Twin Trem are closer to the maximum on the old Fender. But that’s still a pretty rapid modulation rate and the Twin Trem’s range-y depth controls make fast modulations sound extra alien.
If you’re sensitive to such things, the dedicated volume controls are great for overcoming the perceived volume drop that goes with any tremolo. There’s much more gain available than what you need for that purpose, and slathering on the volume gives the pulses a burly quality that’s tough but can obscure some nuance. The ability to create disparate volumes for each circuit means you can slightly foreground one tremolo type or the other, opening up an even wider tone palette and highlighting unique interrelationships between modulations.
Double Shots Make Dizzy Daze
The Twin Trem’s optical tremolo side (if you open up the back you can watch the pulsing diode that activates the opto-resistor) exhibits the throbbing tendencies one associates with black-panel Fender amplifiers. In fact, the Twin Trem sounds uncannily like the old Vibrolux I used for this test, but with more speed, range, and intensity. On its own, it’s a convincing stand-in for a 1960s Fender, Gibson, or Silvertone circuit.
One of the coolest things about the harmonic tremolo is how it often doesn’t sound like tremolo at all. In a harmonic tremolo circuit, high and low-frequency bands are split and volume-attenuated out of phase from each other, creating a bubblegum elasticity in the modulations. At slow speeds the harmonic tremolo’s phasey attributes take center stage (clip 1). And though the modulation texture is less swirling than what a simple phaser produces, the more vowel-like pulses lend a sleepy, mysterious aura to the modulation.
Though I did not use the pedal in stereo, I did utilize the effects loop, inserting a delay between the harmonic and optical tremolo, creating a little extra wash in the harmonic tremolo sweeps (clip 2). You can go crazy with possibilities here: How about inserting a multiple-tape-head-style delay for maximum syncopated mayhem? But the most traditional application for the effects loop is to simulate the reverb-into-tremolo order found in many mid-1960s amps. Again, it’s a great option when you need ’60s reverb/tremolo combo amp vibes and there’s no such animal around.Audio clip 2, which showcases the Twin Trem’s effects loop, also captures the two tremolos working together. And even at this fast-twitching speed you can hear the phaser-like wash softening the front end of the harder optical pulses that are situated downstream. Some dual-trem settings can produce chaos. But the best ones are thick, eerie, and propulsive in ways that can completely transform a song’s ambience.
The Verdict
The Twin Trem is just short of 300 bucks, and it’s easy to rationalize such a significant expense when you consider that you get two distinct tremolo sounds that you can mix, match, and switch between very readily. Maximizing the investment probably requires a little extra thirst for the unusual. Not all combined settings are money. Some rhythmic syncopations will drive you batty, and without the benefit of digital control you can disappear down little rabbit holes trying to find an elusive, perfect subdivision between modulation tempos or replicating a texture you found the previous week. It’s also too bad that you can't switch the order of the circuits. These are very minor traps, however. In general, the Twin Trem is forgiving and easy to use. And if you get in a meditative place with the pedal, and let it do the driving from time to time, the riffs will practically write themselves.
Bonnaroo announces its 2025 lineup featuring Luke Combs, Hozier, Queens of the Stone Age, Avril Lavigne, and more.
This year features headline performances from Luke Combs on Thursday, Tyler, The Creator on Friday, Olivia Rodrigo on Saturday, and Hozier on Sunday. Further highlights include John Summit, Dom Dolla, Avril Lavigne, Glass Animals, Vampire Weekend, Justice, Queens of the Stone Age, and the first-ever Roo Residency with King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard performing three sets over three days. In addition, Remi Wolf will lead the “Insanely Fire 1970’s Pool Party” 2025 SuperJam, Bonnaroo’s legendary tradition. The complete Bonnaroo 2025 lineup is below.
Bonnaroo tickets go on sale tomorrow, Thursday, January 9 beginning at 10 am (CT) exclusively via bonnaroo.com. Guaranteed lowest-priced tickets are available during the first hour of sales, from 10 am - 11 am (CT). 2025 ticket options include 4-Day General Admission, 4-Day GA+, 4-Day VIP, and 4-Day Platinum, along with a variety of camping and parking options starting at just $25 down with a payment plan.
The 2025 festival will offer some exciting new features for Bonnaroovians, including the “Closer” RV and Primitive Camping accommodations that guarantee closer proximity to Centeroo, regardless of which day fans choose to enter The Farm. Among this year’s most exciting additions will be The Infinity Stage, a brand-new, one-of-a-kind venue – presented in partnership with Polygon Live – boasting spatial sound, synchronized lights, and an unprecedented three-dome, open-air design to create the world’s largest, most immersive, 360° live music experience.
Bonnaroo also offers upgraded ticket types for those who prefer an elevated experience. GA+ tickets include unlimited access to the Centeroo GA+ Lounge, with relaxed seating, dedicated food for purchase, air-conditioned restrooms, and hospitality staff to assist with all festival needs; a private bar with drinks for purchase plus complimentary soft drinks; complimentary water refill station; a dedicated premium entrance lane at both gates into Centeroo, and more. VIP and Platinum guests will enjoy the same perks plus additional exclusive upgrades, including dedicated close-in and on-field viewing areas; unlimited access to VIP and Platinum Lounges; express lanes at the Festival Store, commemorative festival gifts, and so much more. To learn more about VIP and Platinum, please seehttp://www.bonnaroo.com/tickets.
A wide range of Camping & Parking options will be available in Outeroo including Primitive Car Camping, Glamping, RVs, Backstage Camping, Accessible Camping, Groop Camping, Community Camping, and more. Premium Outeroo Camping Accommodations include pre-pitched Souvenir Tents, cool and comfortable Darkroom Tents, weatherproof Luxury Bell Tents, and spacious 2-person Wood Frame Safari Tents for the ultimate Bonnaroo camping experience. Cosmic Nomads On-Site Daily Parking passes will be available for ticketholders not camping. For details on all accommodation options, please visitwww.bonnaroo.com/accommodations.
Complete Lineup
THURSDAY, JUNE 12
Luke Combs
Dom Dolla
Sammy Virji
Marcus King
Green Velvet
2hollis
Insane Clown Posse
Joey Valence & Brae
Daniel Donato's Cosmic Country
Wilderado
Max Styler
Azzecca
The Lemon Twigs
Wisp
Sofia Isella
Kitchen Dwellers
Dogs In A Pile
Die Spitz
Hey, Nothing
The Droptines
FRIDAY, JUNE 13
Tyler, the Creator
John Summit
Glass Animals
Tipper
Goose
The Red Clay Strays
Rainbow Kitten Surprise
Megadeth
Wallows
Foster the People
Slightly Stoopid
Flipturn
Of the Trees
JPEGMAFIA
Marina
Tape B
MJ Lenderman
BossMan Dlow
INZO
Levity
Mannequin Pussy
Leon Thomas
Cults
Aly & AJ
Matt Champion
Detox Unit
Rachel Chinouriri
Eater
Ginger Root
Bebe Stockwell
Effin
SATURDAY, JUNE 14
Olivia Rodrigo
Avril Lavigne
Justice
Nelly
GloRilla
Mt. Joy
RL Grime
Beabadoobee
Tyla
Jessie Murph
Modest Mouse
Gorgon City
Flatland Cavalry
Hot Mulligan
Action Bronson
Crankdat
Dope Lemon
Gigi Perez
Wave to Earth
Claptone
Jade Cicada
What So Not
Daði Freyr
Ziggy Alberts
ROSSY
Destroy Boys
The Stews
Thee Sinseers & The Altons
AHEE
SUNDAY, JUNE 15
Hozier
Vampire Weekend
Queens of the Stone Age
LSZEE
Remi Wolf
Raye
Royel Otis
Dispatch
Role Model
Barry Can't Swim
Treaty Oak Revival
Big Gigantic
Jack's Mannequin
ATLiens
Bilmuri
Saint Motel
James Arthur
Alex Warren
Zingara
Natasha Bedingfield
Alexandra Kay
Goldie Boutilier
Grace Bowers & The Hodge Podge
GorillaT
YDG
SPECIAL PERFORMANCES
King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard Roo Residency: 3 Sets, 3 Days (Friday, Saturday and Sunday)
Remi Wolf’s Insanely Fire 1970’s Pool Party Superjam (Saturday)
The fast-rising Okies use solid-state amp heads, baritone guitars, and a bit of Peavey magic to bring their nightmare-rock to life.
Oklahoma City sludge rockers Chat Pile have had a busy few years. Their 2022 LP, God’s Country, broke them internationally, and their critically acclaimed 2024 follow-up, Cool World, solidified them as one of the most exciting heavy bands of the moment. We spoke with bassist Stin and guitarist Luther Manhole about the record for our November 2024 issue.
Now, we bring you the band’s first official Rig Rundown, filmed ahead of their show at The End in Nashville last fall. Tune in to see how Stin and Luther conjure the band’s brutal soundstorms on the road.
Brought to you by D’Addario.
Bari Blast
Manhole’s main machine is this baritone 6-string, an Ernie Ball Music Man BFR Axis Super Sport, finished in “starry night.” Luther took a tip from tourmate and Agriculture guitarist Richard Chowenhill and slapped some tape over his neck pickup near the first string to prevent it from catching on the edge of the humbucker. It’s tuned to drop A, with Ernie Ball Mammoth Slinky strings.
Quite the Quilter
Back at home, Luther and Stin lean on big vintage amps, but on the road, Luther brings out this Quilter Tone Block 202, which is plugged into an Ampeg VT-40 combo amp that’s been gutted to run just as a 4x10 cabinet. Luther digs the icier, cutting tone from the 10″ speakers.
Luther Manhole's Board
Manhole’s board is minimalist: All he needs is a TC Electronic PolyTune, a Suhr Riot for dirt, an Electro-Harmonix Memory Boy (which is set for a wobbly chorus effect), and a TC Electronic Hall of Fame for reverb—pedals he’s used for over a decade. An Acoustic PBIS08 supplies the quartet with power.
Peavey Power
Around 2007, Stin went on a hunt around Oklahoma music shops for a Peavey T-40. He finally found one—in a total “Wayne’s World moment”—that belonged to a country singer who had passed away. Since the band’s formation, this “hot and clangy” white T-40 has been Stin’s tool for crafting Chat Pile’s elephantine, bottom-heavy sound. He uses the 5-string Ernie Ball Slinky Cobalts (.060–.125), omitting the .040 string, and plucks with orange Ernie Ball Everlast .73 mm picks for strong, percussive attack.
Building Blocks
Stin’s signal runs to this Quilter Bass Block 802, which blasts through a Trace Elliot 4x10 redline cab with horns—the cab that’s been used on every Chat Pile recording to date.
Stin's Board
Stin probably thinks Manhole’s board is excessive. He packs just his Boss TU-3 and a Tronographic Rusty Box, each with their own individual power supply plugged into a power bar that’s fixed to the board.