
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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Bryan in a presidential pose before some of the boards at Blackbird Studio.
Take it from English cyclist Sir Dave Brailsford: With an all-encompassing approach to improving the marginal aspects of your methods, you can get quite the payoff on the quality of your endeavors. And that goes for recording, too.
Technology is a strange bedfellow in the arts. We’re either dazzled or disenchanted, love it or hate it, and the drive behind it all is a relentless need to gain a slight competitive edge on our own creativity—at least that’s how I think of it. Last month I wrote about the benefits of using a modeling microphone on a single source. This month, I want to expand that to a larger format.
Recently, I did a live recording and mixing masterclass with Universal Audio, Guitar Center Pro, and the Blackbird Academy back in Dallas, Texas (my hometown). The format: Record a live performance of a band including acoustic, electric, bass, and drums, plus vocals with additional synth tracks, and then immediately pivot to mixing in the box—all in front of a live audience. In addition, I also wanted to do something very different. I wanted to use modeling mics to record the drum kit and simultaneously use them without modeling for the live performance. My hope was that later during mixing, I would compare and contrast to see if I could get more of a “studio” sound.
There are many modeling microphone choices on the market today, mostly made by Slate, Antelope, and Universal Audio, ranging in list price from $129 to $1,500. For this masterclass, I used UA’s Standard Microphones with Hemisphere Modeling (starting at $129).
Live vs. Studio
Now for those of you that read my Dojo offerings regularly, you know I always emphasize mic placement as well as using as little EQ and dynamics processing as possible. In short, always start by taking as much time as you can to adjust the mic to get the best sound possible before reaching for the EQ knobs on any sound source. If you have more than one mic to choose from, switch mics and listen. Are you getting closer to the sound(s) you want?
After making sure the band was totally happy with their monitor mix and things sounded good in the house, the show began. To ensure that the tracks would be as clean as possible, I recorded the performances into my DAW with no modeling, EQ, or dynamics on the drums (or for the rest of the band). I did use some EQ and a little bit of dynamic control for the live show to keep the vocals out in front of the band.
The drum layout was as follows:
• Overheads: two SP-1s (spaced pair)
• Two rack toms and floor tom: three SD-7
• Kick drum: one SD-5
• Snare: one SD-3
Marginal Gains
Once I got the drum kit balanced in volume, I proceeded to bring in a pair of Neumann KH 310 monitors so the masterclass participants could hear what tracks sounded like in a more “studio” mix environment. I cycled through the various modeled mic profiles to hear the differences until we all reached a consensus as to which model worked best for each specific drum in the kit. (My picks: Neumann KM 54 for overheads, cream-colored Sennheiser MD 421 for toms, AKG D12 for kick, and SM57 for snare.) I could then toggle on and off all the profiles at once and hear a completely modeled-mic drum kit as opposed to the “natural” one. The results definitely raised some eyebrows and proved the efficacy of the “aggregation of marginal gains.” This term was coined by Sir Dave Brailsford, who catapulted British Cycling to legendary achievements and wins by choosing not to focus on big gains in a single area, but rather highly detail-oriented marginal gains in many areas (“The 1-Percent Factor”). Thus, by using seven modeled mics on the kit, the composite result was noticeably more flattering than without, and a more polished “studio” sound was achieved.
“Always start by taking as much time as you can to adjust the mic to get the best sound possible before reaching for the EQ knobs on any sound source.”
You may be asking, “Did the mics sound good in the house without any modeling?” Yes! I found them to be equally on par with the standard “live mic” stalwarts we all know. Now, this isn’t a review of the microphones as much as what I mentioned at the beginning—that technology can offer us unique possibilities if we start thinking outside conventional norms and use products outside their primary design. Look around your studio right now, or think about the gear and instruments you have. Can you challenge your creativity and try something new? Can you embrace the 1-Percent factor?
As for me, my next recorded live gig will very likely be with modeling mics!
Until next time, namaste.
Despite his early personal history in elementary school orchestra, Bohlinger says, “Classical musicians are a bit of a mystery to me, and probably most guitarists.”
Does the guitar player’s mind have the patience and focus of a classical musician, or are we on another tip altogether?
The first time I really played music was in fourth grade in my elementary school orchestra. Although I played terribly and was just one tiny cog in a huge musical machine—second to last chair in the second violin section out of 30 kids—being part of these incredible, interwoven melodies was a genuinely moving experience, regardless of how bad it must have sounded. But despite the personal history, classical musicians are a bit of a mystery to me, and probably most guitarists.
Firstly, classical music is too much work.
Great guitarists all have worked their asses off to master their instrument. But the most dedicated guitarists probably won’t put in half as much hard practice time as classical players. I first noticed this when I was touring with my friend and former bandmate Robert Martin—who’s worked with Frank Zappa, Stevie Nicks, Etta James, Bonnie Raitt, and lots of others. We could be in Venice with a free day to explore, and Robert would lock himself in a room with his French horn to practice. On the gig, he wasn’t even playing French horn, just piano and sax, but he carried that thing with him around the world because he had to get his lips on that horn daily. It was somewhere between a compulsion and rigid dedication. Robert told me he had been on this schedule since 1969, when he entered the Curtis Institute of Music, where he undertook intensive classical studies.
On Quora, I found a conversation around the question, “How much do professional musicians practice every day, or does performing take the place of practice?” Only classical musicians responded. The consensus was that orchestral musicians need to practice all the time to play at their absolute best. For symphonic violinists, the practice minimum seems to be three hours daily, but it’s not uncommon for violinists to practice eight hours per day and they rarely take a day off.
Sasha Romero, the principal trombonist in the MET Opera Orchestra, posted on the forum about her typical day. “I usually warm up/practice fundamentals for 30–60 minutes before starting a 2.5-hour rehearsal. Depending on the rep, I may play 5 minutes of that or pretty much every measure (trombones still have far fewer notes than string players). There’s often a second 2.5-hour rehearsal after lunch. After I get home, I might have one more hour-long practice session where I work on an upcoming rep or a recital or whatever is in the near future.”
On her lightest weeks, she posted that she practices about one-and-a-half hours minimum, and four hours max, every day. I could not imagine the misery of four hours alone in a room playing trombone scores. Lots of counting, a bit of monophonic blowing. Torture.
Ever notice when you walk into a venue to see an orchestra, they are all seated practicing right up until the conductor walks out? I always think, “The curtain is up. We can see you. If you don’t have it by now, just go with what you’ve got.” Meanwhile in the world of guitar, half the band is joking around or slugging down drinks right until curtain.
“I could not imagine the misery of four hours alone in a room playing trombone scores.”
Guitarists play what we want when we want. Yes, hard practice is part of the guitar journey, but even a raw guitarist, only playing for a short time with no formal training can play something that connects on the deepest level.
Second: Classical music limits your expression.
Classical players color in the lines. Their contribution to a composition, as one player on the forum put it, is that “the depth of color is up to you.… If Beethoven wants pianissimo, I must play the softest, most spine-tingling pianissimo anyone ever heard!”
Guitarists outside the classical world have carte blanche to do whatever they want. As Eddie Van Halen said: “You’ve only got 12 notes, and however you mix them up is your thing.” In our world, the most revered guitarists are players like Django Reinhardt, Wes Montgomery, Jeff Beck, and EVH. They are celebrated because they went where no one had gone before.
Guitar is a very personal instrument. We are all influenced by others, but ultimately, all guitarists have their own thing. If 10 guitar players lay down a track for a new song, you will get 10 wildly different interpretations.
The vast majority of my 10,000-plus hours were spent having fun, or, as SRV put it, “trying to pray through my guitar.” Guitar remains my therapist, entertainment, companion, and an expression of self. Classical musicianship feels more like servitude to me. Guitar feels like freedom. Classical feels like religion. Guitar feels like spirituality. I’m not knocking either one, but we know who our tribe is.
Your esteemed hosts of the 100 Guitarists podcast have been listening to Randy Rhoads’s body of work since they learned the word “pentatonic.” His short discography with Ozzy Osbourne has been emblazoned on both of our fingertips, and we’ve each put in our hours working out everything from the “Crazy Train” riff to the fingerpicked intro to “Diary of a Madman.” But in our extended Premier Guitar fam, we have an expert who’s been studying Randy’s licks since longer than either of us have been alive.
On this episode, we’re thrilled to be joined by Chris Shiflett—best known to you as the host of Shred with Shifty or as the Foo Fighters’s foremost expert on Randy Rhoads. Since growing up with these riffs in his ears, Shifty’s been making tokens of tribute to the later guitar slinger, from bespoke t-shirts to stuffed guitars.
Join us for Shiflett’s Randy Rhoads primer, learn why you should crank the outro to “S.A.T.O.” as loud as you can, and what Ozzy song makes this Foo cry.
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Always the drummer, Grohl thinks of the Foos’ approach to guitar parts as different limbs. Shiflett handles the 8th-note movement, Grohl pounds on the backbeats, and Smear simply crushes the downbeat. The result has shaped stadium rock for decades.
For the first time, Dave Grohl, Pat Smear, and Chris Shiflett discuss their shared 6-string history, breakdown some Foos riffs, and give insight on 30 years of rock and roll.
Over the past 30 years, Foo Fighters have become one of the most influential and important bands in rock and roll. Through countless gigs from clubs and theaters to arenas and stadiums, the trio of Dave Grohl, Pat Smear, and Chris Shiflett have developed a vocabulary that at this point comes together naturally. It’s a shared language that is always present but rarely (if ever) discussed. Until now.
Back in February, the trio convened in Studio 607 for a sitdown that is destined to be an instant classic among Shred with Shiftydiehards. Below are a few excerpts from the conversation—edited for clarity—that hit on what first inspired Dave and Pat to pick up a guitar, why there was so much feedback at Germs gigs, and that one time they ran into Joe Bonamassa at Guitar Center. You can watch the full episode on YouTube, where they break down “Hey, Johnny Park!,” “La Dee Da,” “Rope,” and so much more. — Jason Shadrick
Chris Shiflett: Alrighty, fellas, let's jump into it. You're in the hot seat now.
Dave Grohl: Oh God. Here we go.
Shiflett: Let's start off easy. What are you playing today?
Grohl: This is my signature DG-335 Epiphone and it's fucking rad. Love it. Been playing it on tour.
Pat Smear: It's not even out.
Dave: Is it not out yet?
Smear: No. Only rumors.
Shiflett: For the sake of this interview, it might be out by the time this airs, so we could be in a time machine. Pat, how did you go from being a guy who famously borrowed guitars at Germs gigs, didn't own one of your own, to the man we see here today with a barn full of guitars?
Smear: That's why, because I didn't even have my own guitar, so I'm like, well, now I need two.
Shiflett: … hundred … thousand. [laughs]. What are you playing today?
Smear: I am playing prototype number one, made by Mike McGuire from the Gibson Custom Shop. It's a Mini Barney Kessel Triburst prototype from 2011. May 11th, 2011.
Shiflett: Do you also have a baritone back there?
Smear: I do. My Hagstrom baritones are on tour, so that's my SG baritone. It's a funny guitar. I'm told that it was originally going to be a Buckethead model, his new model, and he just disappeared. So, they put it out as a baritone.
Grohl: He flew the coop?
Shiflett: When you first came back to the Foos, why did you land on a baritone so much of the time? Had you played much baritone prior to that?
Smear: I played one a little bit. I played one on The Color and the Shape album. That sounded great, but I never played it live. But then, what am I going to do? There are already two guitar players. When we were doing Wasting Light, I'm like, “What am I going to fit in here? Well, nobody's playing baritone. I'll pull that out.”
Grohl: And that’s the story of the Foo Fighters. [laughs]
Shiflett: What made you guys want to be guitar players in the first place? Because probably a lot of people don't know that the guitar actually came before drums, right?
Grohl: Yeah. My father was a classically trained flautist, and my mother bought him a nylon-string, which I don't think he ever played, but it sat in the corner of the room like a piece of furniture, and by the time I got to it I was maybe like eight or nine years old and it maybe had two or three strings on it. I picked it up and played “Smoke on the Water” or something like that. I understood where to put my hands on the frets, and then I was like, “wow, this is cool.”
Shiflett: Did you ever take lessons?
Grohl: I took a few lessons when I first started playing, and I was disappointed because I wanted to learn how to play chords so I could play along to things. I could hear the songs and sort of figure them out, but I was stuck with just getting my little-kid stuff together. And then the teacher started to try to teach me classical. I remember he taught me this thing. [plays short classical piece].
Smear: It worked! It's still there.
Grohl: I was like, fuck that shit.
“I don't even know what a good guitar sound is, but I do know when I play an old Trini through the Tone Master, I really have control over what I'm doing.” — Dave Grohl
Shiflett: What about you, Pat? What made you want to be a guitar player?
Smear: It was my sister Ingrid, who is a couple of years older. She had a nylon-string acoustic guitar in the house. I had those forced piano lessons when I was a kid, and I would cry through the whole thing. I hated it so much, and then I picked up the guitar and I'm like, “Oh, well, that's my thing.” But it was really [Alice Cooper’s] Love it to Death. That picture on the back cover. I'm like, I want to do this. I want to play that.
Shiflett: It's funny how that still informs your guitar choices. Who would you consider your primary guitar influences?
Grohl: I really liked Ace Frehley. I mean, I had a Beatles chord book, and that's where I was learning to play chords and stuff, but I never saw footage of the Beatles playing when I was eight or nine. I just thought Ace was so fucking cool looking, and I loved the way he stood, and I loved his Les Paul, and I thought that I could be a guitarist and look like him without all the fucking heels and the makeup and shit.
Smear: I don't know that I had one. I had a bunch. I had all the usual ones, but I thought Mick Ronson was the coolest, but as far as the playing, it was the Alice Cooper guys.
It wasn’t until the band started recording Wasting Light, that Pat Smear dived into the baritone guitar. “What am I going to fit in here?” thought Smear. “Well, nobody's playing baritone. I'll pull that out.”
Shiflett: When did you figure out that you needed a certain kind of gear to make it sound like the record?
Dave: It's funny. My mother bought me a Silvertone, like an old one from Sears with an amp in the case and everything, and it was cool. But then I found out about a distortion pedal. I don't know how, but I think I was in a music store and I saw one, and I said to my mom, I was like, “oh my God, mom, can I get it?” It was 30 bucks. It was an MXR. And I was like, “This is going to make it sound so much better.” And she's like, “Oh, good.” And we buy it and bring it home. After I plugged it in, she was like, “I thought you said it was going to make it sound good!”
Shiflett: It's distorting the sound. [Laughs]
Dave: Yeah, it doesn't sound good.
Shiflett: I had a little solid-state practice amp, and I'd go home and I'd try to play whatever I learned in my lesson and it wouldn't grit up at all. And you'd just kind of be confused. Why doesn't this sound like the Ozzy record? It doesn’t sound right!
Smear: I know! I never knew anything about that part of it.
Grohl: Well, you didn't even have any fucking gear. [Laughs]
Smear: I didn't even have gear. I didn't have a guitar. I didn't have an amp.
Shiflett: What was the time that you showed up at a Germs show and had to borrow somebody else's gear?
Smear: Well, that happened all the time, but the worst one was we were playing with X and I broke my guitar in the first song, and so I'm like, “I need Billy Zoom's guitar!” And, dude, I found out he was hiding in some closet with his guitar saying, “Keep him away from my fucking guitar.” I'm all drunk. I think somebody just taped it back together and we were okay.
Grohl: Is this why there was always so much fucking feedback at Germs gigs? You had no pedals, you would just crank the amp?
Smear: Well, if there was a pedal, I would just step on it and leave it there. And my favorite when I hear old tapes is tuning full volume with the pedal on.
Shiflett: Well, let's talk a little bit about your live rigs that you've gotten nowadays and how that's kind of changed over the years.
Smear: Yeah, Dave, talk about your live rig. [Laughs]
Grohl: Okay, just a disclaimer. I don't know a fucking thing. At first I was playing a Marshall, it was like a JCM 900 or something like that. For the first [Foo Fighters] album, that's what I was playing.
Shiflett: Pedals? No pedals?
Grohl: I really think I only had a RAT pedal and a fucking tuner. I don't think I had any delays or phasers or anything yet. I think I just had a RAT. Then eventually the Mesa/Boogies came along and it was like Dual Rectifiers and 4x12s and that kind of stuff. And then eventually I found one of those [Fender] Tone Masters at Norman’s [Rare Guitars]. And he was like, “These are great, man. This is what Aerosmith used on all of their cool shit.” I've stuck with them ever since. And the thing is that, I mean, I don't even know what a good guitar sound is, but I do know when I play an old Trini through that, I really have control over what I'm doing. I don't have any volume pedals or anything like that. I've got four channels of clean to dirty.
Shiflett: You do have a pretty straightforward live set up. Not a ton of pedals, just phaser and delay and a couple of things.
Grohl: And I can roll [the volume knob] a lot. I mean, that's the thing with the Trini is that they're kind of reactive. They're dynamic and you can make them do …
Shiflett: It leaves a lot in your hands.
Grohl: It does. And especially when you're running around the stage and I don't have 20 seconds to get back to a pedalboard, then I could just roll up and down and just do it in the hands.
“But it was really [Alice Cooper’s] Love it to Death. That picture on the back cover. I'm like, I want to do this. I want to play that.” — Pat Smear
Shiflett: It's interesting. When I joined the band I was playing through a Dual Rectifier and I think you were playing through a Dual Rectifier live, but I was surprised to learn that for Nothing Left to Lose you had used the Trini and old vintage AC-30s and Memory Man, and Hiwatts, so your studio thing and your live thing were very different.
Grohl: I remember having that conversation with my guitar tech at the time, and the justification was basically, if one of those things goes down while we're on the road, we're kind of screwed. And so the Rectifiers were really consistent and you didn't have a lot of problems with them, and if you needed to find another one, they were easy to find.
Smear: And they'd send them like that. [snaps fingers]
Grohl: Yeah, they'd be really quick. And we were just doing that because we were blazing through gigs so much.
Shiflett: I don't remember which tour cycle it was, but there was just a point where when you got that Tone Master and I came in with a Friedman and a something else or an AC, I forget what it was, all of a sudden it went from that to this completely other tone thing live.
Smear: We all had the Mesas.
Grohl: I think we had gotten to the point where we all had sort of three different sounds and three different duties in the band, and so we all started to focus more on that.
Both Grohl and Shiflett are armed with their respective signature guitars. Grohl’s recently released Epiphone DG-335 has been long requested by fans, while Shiflett’s Tele Deluxe will soon get a refresh.
Shiflett: I never had any effect pedals until I joined the band. Can you believe that?
Grohl: Wow.
Shiflett: Never, never played with a delay pedal or a flanger or any of that stuff in my life. And when we first started doing those rehearsals and there were songs like “Aurora” and “Generator” and stuff that had some color, that was when I had to first learn how to do that.
Grohl: I think that a lot of what we do comes from the studio. When we go in to record songs, the basic idea is usually pretty simple and we'll pull that together and then we start to color it with different things, different sections of the song, different effects, different tones, and things like that. And also the arrangement or composition of the three of us doing what we do since we don't want to just do the same thing all the time. I think it took 15 or 20 years for us to figure out the recipe or combination of what we do.
Shiflett: I wanted to talk to you about, “Hey, Johnny Park!” I remember when I bought that record, putting that song on and the big drums came in and then the guitars kicked in, it's like a guitar solo and there wasn't a lot of that in your music, and there really wasn't a lot of that even in alternative rock at that time. I was listening to the recorded version last night and it sounds like maybe it's like a Big Muff or something in that part? Do you remember what guitars you were playing? What amps, pedals, all that sort of stuff?
Grohl: I'm sure on that I was playing through a combination of amps. I think one was old Marshall. I think another might've been a Hiwatt. I don't remember what we had in there.
Smear: The only amp I remember was when you used that smokey cigarette amp. I don't even remember what song it was. But you used that on something.
Shiflett: What was your main go-to guitar back then?
Grohl: I was using the Trini a lot.
Shiflett: Oh, you had it even back then?
Grohl: Yeah, I got the Trini before Foo Fighters. I got it at this place called Southworth Guitars in Bethesda, Maryland, and there was a row of 335s and they're all red. They all kind of looked the same. And then there was this one with this different headstock and it had these diamond f-holes. I knew nothing about it. I didn't know anything about Trini Lopez. And it turned out great. It's the same one that I've used on fucking everything.
Shiflett: How many Trinis do you have? Vintage old ones?
Grohl: Maybe like five or six of them.
Shiflett: I didn't know if you were the Joe Bonamassa of Trinis.
Grohl: No, I’m not the Joe Bonamassa of anything.
Shiflett: I bet Joe Bonamassa is probably the Joe Bonamassa of Trinis. [Laughs.] That reminds me. My favorite guitar shopping moment with Pat was when we were making the last album and we were sitting there and we ran over to the rock and roll Guitar Center, and we went into the vintage room and we're looking at guitars.
Smear: Was Bonamassa there taking apart a Strat?
Shiflett: Yes, but the part that always sticks in my head is there was a 1997 Les Paul and they called it “vintage.” I was like, what? Really? God, how fucking vintage are we? [Laughs.]
Grohl: I just think we’re “used.”