A Canada-built, tastefully styled mini jumbo serves up comfort, a unique and expansive tone profile, and addictive playability.
Godin may be a Canadian company that skews modern in its design approach. But staring across the room at the new Godin Connaisseur MJ, glowing in soft spring sunlight, I kept thinking about two very classic American guitar companies. Martin and Rickenbacker are famous for very different things, and one of them rarely made acoustic instruments. But check out the Godin’s sunburst finish—it sure reminds me of Rickenbackerfireglo. The herringbone-patterned purling evokes that found on a D-28 as well as Rickenbacker’s checkerboard binding. The split-hexagon fretboard inlay? It conjures thoughts of aD-45, and Rickenbacker’s shark-fins. There are practical reasons that this Godin feels like an alternate-universe offspring from the two American companies—most notably the super-satisfying playability. Hermann Rorschach might have told me I’m more inclined to see and feel these likenesses in the Connaisseur MJ (I’m genuinely captivated by the beauty of Rickenbackers and Martins). But style is a big part of what sets the Connaisseur MJ apart, and you don’t need an inkblot test to know that the Godin Connaisseur MJ is a handsome, well-built, and fine-playing flattop. It’s a guitar that reveals its virtues quickly and easily.
Maple Leaf Rag
Consider another unorthodox melding of concepts: “mini” and “jumbo.” Obviously, they are a contradiction in terms. But as an acoustic guitar design guideline, the combination can yield pure gold. The jumbo in mini jumbo (MJ in Godin nomenclature) alludes to the body’s basic shape which, in its fluid curvaceousness, echoes Gibson’s SJ-200. But while the Connaisseur MJ isn’t a behemoth like the SJ-200, it’s not exactly mini either, and feels much more like a shapelier Martin OM. It’s a very comfortable profile that does much to alleviate the arm fatigue that can come from wrestling a dreadnought or genuinely jumbo jumbo.
At $2,499 the Canada-built Connaisseur MJ is Godin’s most expensive flattop by several hundred dollars. And at that price it has to tussle with giants like Martin, Gibson, and Taylor—all of whom sell very established and well-known models in a crowded market segment that most of us could call “getting expensive enough to hurt.” So, what distinguishes the Godin in a densely populated field? Well, it’s certainly pretty, and the melding of classic flattop design touchstones and contemporary styling moves achieves a unique, attractive result rather than an uncomfortable, incohesive mash up of influences.
Golden Glow
In the sonic sphere, theConnaisseur MJ exhibits many classic spruce-and-mahogany characteristics. The warm, concise fundamentals, sunset-hued, softly decaying overtones, and lack of brashness are all hallmarks of this tonewood combination. But the Godin definitely doesn’t live on the dusty, dry, and antique end of the mahogany-and-spruce spectrum. It’s alive and dynamic and responsive in ways you might even categorize as “modern,” and has ample headroom that leaves space for shifts in mood and intensity without shedding its essential voice. It’s easy to be struck by the Connaisseur MJ’s sparkle, especially when you use a light fingerstyle touch. But as I got to know the guitar, I grew to love the balance and resonance in the low end. I suspect that the mini jumbo body, and perhaps the 25.5" scale, have a lot to do with the Godin’s even, inviting voice and range. There is a beautiful combination of energy and air, even in the most softly plucked notes, and it’s easy to see how the extra expanse of spruce aft of the bridge might have a lot to do with how lively and rich the Godin sounds.
“The Godin definitely doesn’t live on the dusty, dry, antique end of the mahogany-and-spruce spectrum. It’s alive and dynamic and responsive in ways you might even categorize as ‘modern.’”
All the tone in the world doesn’t mean much if a guitar plays like a log. But the Connaisseur MJ shines in the playability realm. A few less-than-perfectly-dressed fret ends aside, the neck is addictively comfortable. If there’s a lot of Richard Thompson hammer-ons and pull-offs in your own playing vernacular, you’ll love the snappy touch responsiveness.
The Verdict
The biggest compliment I can offer the Connaisseur MJ is the considerable time I spent with it in a meditative musical state—thinking not about a review, just basking in its warm, sprightly resonance and inviting touch response. At $2,499, the Godin arguably offers more personality than a satin-finished instrument at the same price with a more famous name. It’s well built and feels like a guitar that’s in it for the long haul. And when it comes to tone and a pure playing experience, the Connaisseur MJ shines.
Billed as a practice amp, this 40-watt, solid-state combo with reverb and tremolo is clean, pedal- and stage-friendly, and affordable.
Orange O 40
I enjoy that back-of-the-throat, big cat growl that starts happening when you turn up the preamp of an Orange amplifier. But the company’s new O Tone 40 is a different breed of feline. With no gain control and a 1x12 made-in-Poland Voice of the World speaker that doesn’t break up until you start cranking it past noon, the O Tone 40 is designed to purr rather than snarl—unless lashed to an overdrive or fuzz pedal. It adds a different, more American-vintage flavor to the company’s lineup of versatile, low-priced new-generation amps and a voice shaped, in many respects,by the number and character of the stomps on your pedalboard.
Practice Schmactis
The solid-state O Tone 40 is billed as a practice amp, but I’d feel comfortable taking it onstage anywhere I’d use, say, a Deluxe Reverb or Blues Junior. It’s a 40-watt, class-AB build with 3-band EQ, digital reverb, and footswitchable JFET-driven tremolo. There’s an effects loop, too, and the combo clocks in at a light 26 pounds. In the modern practice-amp spirit, the O Tone has a 1/4'' headphone out and an unbalanced line-out to run into a DAW. There’s also an auxiliary input for, say, pumping in rhythm tracks or plugging in a metronome. The cabinet is medium-density fiberboard, versus the birch plywood of the 35-watt, 1x10 Orange Crush, which has no reverb or tremolo. And it’s tagged at a very reasonable $399, given its overall functionality.
With its classic control set—reverb, depth, speed, bass, midrange, treble, and volume, from left to right—the O Tone 40 is easy to use, and dialing up a host of good sounds with single-coil and humbucking pickups was a snap. The closed-back design and overall sonic profile tends to make the amp a bit bass heavy, especially with humbuckers, so it’s important to watch the EQ settings. I found a set-it-and-forget-it location with the bass at 9 o’clock, the mids floored, and the treble at 11 o’clock. This is a matter of taste, of course, and mine runs toward the mid-heavy with tempered treble. After all, Orange amps’ strength has always been the harmonic richness of their mids, and the O Tone 40 hits that mark. Plus, adding a little more treble pulled things toward Marshall territory, too.
Another aspect I loved was the breakup I started to hear working the volume up past noon. It’s more subtle than snarling, and reminded me of the organic dirty sounds that can be achieved by cranking up old Valco and Gibson amps from the ’50s and ’60s. So vintage tone hunters may find the O Tone 40 a great lower-priced alternative to an actual period piece. But the quiet effects loop also makes the amp ready for sonic futurism, if that’s one’s goal.
Finally, the reverb is deliciously spring-like, and the dial will travel from dry to surf to the supernatural. The tremolo has plenty of vintage character, too, although I would like to see a little more response in the lower range of the depth control, like that I’ve experienced with old Supros and Gibsons, which can get pretty radical right out of the box.
The Verdict
The super-affordable Orange O Tone 40 is versatile and pedal-friendly, with vibe-y reverb and tremolo as well as an effects loop, so stomp OD fans likely won’t miss the amp-maker’s usual appealing gain profile. There’s enough headroom for clean stage and rehearsal sounds at substantial volume, and pushing the volume past noon yields a very vintage-amp-like breakup profile, which make the O Tone a dependable work-pony with much more than a single trick.
Andy Powers’ influence on the substance and style of Taylor guitars has been truly significant. Over his 14-year tenure leading Taylor’s design efforts, he’s introduced entirely new bracing patterns and body profiles—never easy when working for a legacy brand in a tradition-oriented industry. In crafting the new Gold Label 814e Koa Super Auditorium, Powers might have created Taylor’s prettiest body shape yet—a blend of sweeping curves, airy lines, and graceful proportions that, like a river stone, appear as if shaped by water.
Stylish, for sure. But there’s substance in abundance, too. The ever-tinkering Powers reconfigured the V-Class bracing Taylor introduced in 2018 for the new Gold Label 814e guitars. There’s also a new glue-free long-tenon neck—significant news considering how large Taylor’s NT neck looms in the company’s identity. What’s interesting about those moves is that Powers was keen to bake a visceral sense of vintage-ness into this guitar. The Gold Label 814e doesn’t sound much like the old American flattops I run into, but it’s distinguished by sweetness, clarity, balance, and expressive range.
Presence and Proportions
The Super Auditorium body shape that debuts with the Gold Label 814e is a close relative of Taylor’s lovely Grand Auditorium shape, which, at 30 years old, is now a foundational part of Taylor’s line. In fact, the 814e Koa is just 3/16" longer and 1/4" wider than a Grand Auditorium. More obvious is the absence of a cutaway, and the symmetry of the curves highlight lovely, just-about-perfect proportions. It’s a beautiful guitar, but it’s probable the increase in dimensions has more to do with Powers chasing a specific sound. Certainly, more size could align with aspirations to the antique tone glow of a vintage American flattop.
The collective effect of the body dimensions (which live in a sweet spot between grand Concert and dreadnought size) and the modified V-Class bracing means the Gold Label 814e’s voice is distinctive rather than overtly “vintage” (a broad, unspecific term at best). At the risk of disappointing Powers and Taylor, I think the Gold Label 814e exhibits many classically Taylor tone attributes to excellent effect, and the snappy midrange and relatively even string-to-string balance at times evoke an acoustic that’s been EQ’d and compressed by a recording engineer. But what will resonate for many players is the way the Gold Label 814e complements the modern facets of its voice with toasty bass from the 6th string and a little less top-end brilliance from the 1st and 2nd strings—qualities you’re more likely to hear in a guitar with 70 years of toil baked in. In the Gold Label 814e, those tonalities are bookends for a broad midrange that is very present and very Taylor, and whether that whole suits your playing style has a lot to do with how much you can leverage its impressive dynamics. Heavy-handed strumming confirms that the Gold Label 814e is capable of being very loud. It also highlights a pronounced midrange that, for all the guitar’s string-to-string balance, can be a bully if you have a heavy touch. If your approach is more varied and sensitive, though, the extra volume becomes headroom and the midrange becomes a chrome shine set against a dusty desert patina. It’s a killer recipe for fingerstyle. A light touch can still generate detailed, complex overtone pictures, while the high headroom accommodates and inspires high-contrast high-intensity counter phrasings. There’s a lot of room to explore.
Grease the Runway
Playability is, as expected, a strong suit. The action feels extra-easy and encourages hyperactive playing styles as well as languid chording that utilizes the instrument’s sustain, range, and rich pianistic qualities. The 1:21 ratio Gotoh 510 tuners feel ultra-precise, making moves between alternate tunings easy and enhancing an already strong sense of performance stability. Flawless fretwork, meanwhile, feels fantastic and underscores Taylor’s super-high quality. A fatter neck profile certainly would have suited me, and even though you can feel the tiniest hint of a V-profile bump at the neck contour’s apex, it still feels a touch thin. Even so, a lack of hand fatigue and a sense of fleetness in the fingers make the trade-off worthwhile.
Appropriately, for a guitar that costs $4.8k, the Gold Label 814e is a feast for the eyes, but in a sneaky, not-too-extroverted kind of way. The Hawaiian koa back and sides, which are a $300 upcharge from the rosewood-backed 814e, are, along with the Continental inlays, the flashiest element of the instrument. And though the high-quality lumber elsewhere in the guitar (torrefied spruce top, ebony fretboard, mahogany neck, ebony tuning keys) all feel luxurious, the deeply figured koa adds an extra splash of bespoke flash. Seasoned Taylor spotters will also note that the lines of the koa sides are not cluttered with the controls of the Expression System 2 electronics, which have been replaced here by an excellent L.R. Baggs Element VTC system that utilizes controls tucked inside the soundhole.
The Verdict
Though the 814e Koa aspires to 1940s and ’50s American flattop vintageness, it doesn’t always deliver on that count. For the right player, though, the instrument offers a unique and complex voice with a super-wide dynamic range and soft-focus bass and treble tones that temper the midrange. The new glue-free, long tenon neck can be reset fast and inexpensively should that time ever come, which might make the sting of the hefty $4,799 investment feel less risky—at least in maintenance terms. Yep, it’s really expensive. But consider, too, the joys of beholding the 814e Koa’s graceful curves all day—you might be able to justify the cost as a musical instrument as well as art.
Wanna talk about rabbit holes? Well, few are deeper or darker than one that awaits when you compare the virtues, shortcomings, and construction peculiarities of Big Muffs. Make no mistake, I love the things. And studying real, audible differences among Big Muff variants is fun. But I would happily take back many hours I’ve spent contrasting Ram’s Head, Triangle, and Sovtek versions, and their clones—all to arrive at the conclusion that they all sound awesome in their own right. One dude that has spent about a million hours dissecting Muff tone minutiae is EarthQuaker Devices founder Jamie Stillman. Hisefforts to reverse engineer his pal Dan Auerbach’s unique-sounding Sovtek Muff begat theHoof, which remains among EarthQuaker’s most enduring and successful products.
Just as Auerbach’s Muff possessed a certain something missing in otherwise identical Sovteks, so it was with a Version-6 (V6) Electro-Harmonix Big Muff used by James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem for his band’s fuzz-bass tones. As 40-something pedals will, Murphy’s V6 Big Muff got a bit fussy for tour life, so Stillman and EQD were tasked with crafting a replacement. But like so many vintage pedals that have become notorious and legendary, Murphy’s V6 Big Muff is distinguished by construction inconsistencies that made it a quirky and unique thing.
EQD’s interpretation of this formula—made manifest here in the Chelsea Low End Fuzz Driver—is a Big Muff-style voice that leans more Ram’s Head than Sovtek. In strictly sonic terms, that means lots of grind, presence, and a delectable balance between air and aggression that make the Chelsea soar. Like a vintage V6 Big Muff, it features a tone-bypass switch which removes the tone pot entirely. The midrange-heavy result is appealing and impressive in its own punky way. But the rangeful tone control, and the oxygenated sounds that live in its treblier zones, in particular, are highlights of the pedal’s vocabulary that make it distinctive.
As the “Low End Fuzz Driver” handle and Murphy’s historically bass-oriented usage suggest, the Chelsea’s tone profile is a great tool for crafting gnarly, nasty, bottom-end sounds that have a trace of almost saxophone-like honk and grit on top of mere mass—a sound composite that gives bass and baritone riffs lift and definition. But as sweetly and swaggeringly as the Chelsea gels with bass, guitarists will find it a source of rich and blistering tones, and a distinctive alternative to early Triangle-, Ram’s Head-, and V6-style Big Muff sounds.
