Good news, folks: Guitar is alive and well! PG headed south to Atlanta for three days to celebrate performances (and gather guitar details) from Beck, Gary Clark Jr., Tame Impala, Tyler Childers, Incubus, the Struts, Cage the Elephant, Tash Sultana, and more!
The Struts’ Adam Slack
During the opening number of “Primadona Like Me,” the Struts lone axeman went with his No. 1—a Gibson Custom Shop Mike McCready Collector’s Choice 1959 Les Paul Standard. During our recent Rig Rundown, he told us that he landed on it after a marathon guitar tasting session at Chicago Music Exchange.
Our columnist makes an argument against the usefulness of tap tempo footswitches. Should we really be bothering with them?
The ability to tap in a tempo on pedals is a fairly new concept, especially compared to the amount of time that stompboxes have existed in our world. I would venture to guess that this is due in part to the availability of, and need for, digital ICs. Then, being able to code them and apply them to effects circuits appropriately.
Piece of cake! … If you’re good at baking cake. This process isn’t exactly easy to implement, but these days, I feel like some players are almost expecting this modern commodity—to the point where a great delay pedal might be overlooked due to not having tap tempo.
Setting aside the history and design applications, I’ve been pondering if tap tempo even makes sense or is achievable in a band context. For this thought experiment, I’d like to run through a few scenarios, while also shedding light on a few software/hardware aspects for you to consider. To put it plainly, “Why would you need tap tempo on a pedal?” The most compelling argument I’ve thought of is the “band” aspect: being part of a band where the rhythm section has laid down the tempo and you’d like to add delay to the song. Now, if you set the knobs on your delay pedal and started playing to that tempo, your bandmates could join along with your delay line acting as the group’s metronome. However, in this scenario, you didn’t start the tempo. That’s no problem! You’ve got a footswitch on your delay that allows you to tap your foot to the beat of the drummer and you’ll be all set! But will you?
Let’s assume, for argument’s sake, that the drummer is playing to a click track at 120 bpm. Your foot starts tapping along and you press that magical tap footswitch on your favorite delay three to six times. Boom! Now you’ve set the delay line to 120 bpm. But what are the chances that you tapped 120 exactly? Is it likely that you tapped in 122 bpm? Or 121.3 bpm? Absolutely. This discrepancy may not be very noticeable for a couple bars, but every subsequent bar you play will start to become more noticeable. So what do you do? You can keep tapping in the tempo to the best of your ability every few bars. Seems cumbersome given that you still have to play the guitar parts and focus on other things that are inherently involved in a band setting.
Pulling the curtain back for a second here, let’s call the part of the pedal that handles the tap tempo “the brain.” The brain of the delay sees you pressing the tap footswitch multiple times and processes this in a couple ways (that I’m aware of). One, it measures the distance between all the consecutive taps and spits out an average. Two, it takes the last two distances in the string of taps and makes that the bpm. That’s not even going into whether the brain is floating point (121.3 bpm) or fixed point (121.32 bpm).
“You’ve got a footswitch on your delay that allows you to tap your foot to the beat of the drummer and you’ll be all set! But will you?”
Your drummer is still waiting for you to get the tempo dialed in. So what can you try next? Well, if your delay pedal has an insert jack for tap tempo, we can try to connect something like the Disaster Area SMARTClock. The tap footswitch on it won’t help here. It’ll be the same as the bpm discrepancy we discussed previously. However, there’s an encoder knob that allows you to scroll through the output tempo in bpm or millisecond increments. Yes! Not all is lost! You just have to make sure to sync it up exactly on the downbeat of the tempo—crap!
Another more intricate and exact option would be to have the drummer’s click track send a MIDI signal to your SMARTClock that then connects to your delay. At this point, I’d change my question to, “Is this level of tap tempo necessary?” Perhaps if you’re the Edge and/or the song is predicated on the delay.
If you’re adding a lead part to a song and the delay isn’t exactly “on” with the bpm, I would argue that it can stand out better, be more easily heard, and be more interesting. I would also argue that an amplitude-style tremolo makes more sense to require exact bpm. I’m thinking about the Smiths’ “How Soon is Now?”
Tap-tempo options on modulation have been fun and we’re seeing more of it nowadays, but we’ve been playing and listening to the Phase 90 for decades without needing tap. Ultimately, if having certain options inspires you and brings you joy, go for it! Enjoy! But I’d ask you, “Did you actually tap in the correct bpm?” and “Did it matter?”Orianthi joins forces with Orange Amplification for her signature combo, the Oriverb, based on the classic Rockerverb MKIII 50 NEO Combo.
"Seeing this whole amp come to life has been a dream come true," said Orianthi, "it’s a beautiful amp and it really reflects my eccentric personality!"
The platinum-selling virtuoso guitarist has gained a reputation as a multi-faceted artist, singer, songwriter and first-call collaborator. With roots planted firmly in hard rock, her latest single "First Time Blues" featuring Joe Bonamassa and "Ghost" are a combination of blues-based riffs and memorable melodies. She is currently on tour in the USA and working on a new album to be announced soon.
The Oriverb, inspired by the Rockerverb 50 MKIII Combo Neo, is voiced to embody Orianthi’s unique sound. It has a cleaner mid-range warmth that reflects her classic blues and rock tone, whilst retaining all of its desired variable distortion.. A tweaked EQ gives the Oriverb creamy, sparkly cleans and saturated screaming overdrives.
Fitted with a pair of lightweight, British-made Celestion Neo Creamback speakers and EL34 valves, the Oriverb has that definitive British flavour with incredibly versatile tone shaping abilities. The new combo also boasts a much-loved footswitchable spring reverb, built-in attenuator for maxed out textures at neighbour-friendly volumes, switchable power options and a near-transparent, valve-driven effects loop. The cabinet is crafted using the highest quality 15mm Baltic birch plywood, making it one of the lightest 2 x 12” speaker cabinets on the market and is finished in an embossed white Tolex, selected by Orianthi.
"We created this to be something very special, unique, something that when people plug into it, whatever guitar they are gonna use through this, it is going to amplify their personality," explained Orianthi, "being able to bring something to life that I feel a lot of people are really going to enjoy has been a real honour. I am so proud of this amp and I can’t wait for people to check it out."
To find out more about the new Oriverb, plus all the other Orange Amplification
products, please go to orangeamps.com.
A roadside stop in Massachusetts yielded a mysterious gem that hinted at a recombinant building operation.
This month, I’m proud to say that my wife and I are celebrating 20 years of marriage! Yes, she puts up with all my weirdness, but the gal is just the best, and I’m glad we found each other in this crazy world. Over the years, we’ve had a running joke about how, wherever we travel, I have to look up old music haunts or check out local classifieds for treasure.
I bought a guitar on our honeymoon, and our yearly trips to the shore were often spent trying to get a music-store owner to sell me an old hollowbody. (He thought it made a nice decoration.) On our 10-year anniversary, I bought a few guitars up in New England. But this year, we were staying in a beautiful but remote part of northern Pennsylvania, and I couldn’t find anything. There wasn’t even a music store in the whole county! Plenty of dollar stores, though, which are totally not that fun.
On our drive home we had the best chat about all sorts of topics, but eventually I started talking guitars. (Actually, the reason the subject came up was because she wants me to sell some of mine! Ha!) We were discussing remote spots, crazy music locations, and some totally strangecollectors who had music “stores,” but never sold anything because the prices were nuts.
Once, we were driving through Massachusetts. I don’t remember the name of the town, but I do remember that it had a famous fire station that was depicted in some Norman Rockwell paintings. [It was likely Stockbridge.] As we were driving out of town, we spotted a big “SALE” sign in front of a kinda-sorta country store. The place was an amalgam of buildings, makeshift tents, and semi trailers filled with all sorts of goods and sundries. I remember it was hot as hell, and being inside the trailers felt like being broiled. Yet, I persevered, and went on searching for weird stuff.
the guitar featured a totally warped-looking body that was slightly offset and a tad offbeat.“
My wife bought a few things, like a fat ballerina mirror which we still have, and some old glass bottles of various colors. I wasn’t finding anything, but I asked one of the locals there about guitars. He eyed me up and must’ve thought I was worthy because he took me to a spot near the back, in an old shed that was probably being held together with paint. Inside, there was a little treasure trove of kooky instruments in all sorts of disrepair. Still, I was smitten with a few pieces, including this column’s subject.
This Decca guitar is the kissin’ cousin of that old Bruno our columnist found in Western Massachisetts.
Labeled as a Bruno Royal Artist, the guitar featured a totally warped-looking body that was slightly offset and a tad offbeat. Finished in redburst with lots of brown pearloid, the Bruno had a lot of oddities that left me wondering. The neck and pickups were Kawai-made, circa 1966, but the body and tremolo originated elsewhere. I just assumed it was pieced together, but I still dug the thing, and it came home to live with us for a little while.
In the years that followed, I started to see more guitars just like this Bruno. I also saw some different brand names like Crown, Conqueror, and, pictured here alongside my Bruno, Decca. What was the mystery guitar factory behind the hybrids, piecing together Kawai parts with different bodies? I guess I may never know, but these are the happy little accidents we see in the bizarre world of guitars.
The guitar sounded very good, and the Kawai pickups in that hollowbody were smoky as hell. The body was finely crafted, and felt much more solid than typical fare from the era. The tremolo was also a solid feature, and the darn thing actually returned to tune.
This Bruno did eventually find a new home, and if I don’t sell more guitars, well … you know.
Dark, enveloping, and mysterious tape-echo-style repeats on the cheap in an enclosure that fits in the smallest spaces.
Dark, enveloping repeats that rival more expensive tape-echo emulations and offer an alternative to click-prone BBD echoes. Cool chorus and flanger effects at fastest repeat times.
Small knobs make it tough to take advantage of real-time tweaking.
$137
Electro-Harmonix Pico Rerun
ehx.com
My most treasured effect is an old Echoplex. Nothing feels like it, and though I’ve tried many top-flight digital emulations, most of which sounded fantastic, nothing sounds quite like it either. If the best digital “tape” delays do one thing well, it’s approximating the darkness and unpredictable variations in tape-echo repeats.
Electro-Harmonix’s Pico Rerun plays the character of tape echo very convincingly in this respect. It hangs with more expensive digital tape echoes at a $137 price tag that’s easy to stomach. Better still, this Pico version is petite and offers unexpected surprises and flexibility.
Beyond the Pico Rerun’s essential enveloping voice, the pedal enables a lot of fairly authentic tape-echo functionality. Manipulating the feedback, blend, and echo rate controls together (which is tricky given their small size) yields flying-saucer liftoff and “Dazed and Confused” time/space-mangling textures in copious measure. These tweaks betray some digital artifacts—mainly trebly peaks that don’t have the benefit of real tape-compression softening, but they hardly get in the way of the fun. Saturation lends welcome drive and haze. And the flutter button adds faux tape wobble in three degrees of intensity. At the most intense setting, long repeats take on a woozy sense of drift. At the fastest rates, however, the flutter function will generate chorus and flange effects that neither my Echoplex, nor my best tape echo simulators, can manufacture.