The 2012 Les Paul Standard is a superb all-around axe that combines archetypal styling with some genuinely smart performance enhancements that make it one of the most versatile Les Paul’s ever and about as varied an electric guitar as you’ll find.
Ever since Gibson discontinued the original Les Paul Standard back in 1960—after just three years of production—the company has had a fluid, perhaps sometimes confused, but ultimately profitable and image-enriching relationship with its flagship guitar. Thanks in large part to the influence of Clapton and Page, demand for old Standards exploded in the mid ’60s, and Gibson soon resurrected the Les Paul. Unfortunately, the Paul they brought back in ’68 wasn’t really what players were hoping for or expecting, and it would be more than two decades before the company built a run of Standards that truly conformed to the specs of coveted ’57–’60 models. But even after Gibson finally delivered the Les Paul purists had been craving, they kept on tinkering with the formula.
As far back late ’50s, Gibson walked the line between staying at the leading edge of electric-guitar design and pleasing traditionalists—way back in 1958, the Flying V was the company’s first attempt at a space-age guitar. It’s been a tough balancing act ever since. For every authentic ’50s-style reissue, it seems there’s a Gibson designed to be more versatile, lighter, or more aesthetically and creatively up to date.
As the new Les Paul Standard reviewed here demonstrates, Gibson’s creative impulses can still extend to even the company’s most iconic models. But with this guitar—the model’s first significant redesign since 2008—Gibson may have struck a near-perfect balance between tradition and progress. It addresses the aspects of the Les Paul’s design most commonly regarded as drawbacks—weight, a lack of thinner, single-coil-like tones, and the neck shape and radius, which traditionally remained constant from the nut on through to the higher registers. Wisely though, Gibson made sure that, outwardly at least, it remains unmistakably a Les Paul Standard.
A Burst of Creativity
Our heritage cherry sunburst test guitar
certainly inspires more than a few oohs and
ahs. Its beautifully book-matched, AAA grade
flame-maple top—which is now subject
to an improved finishing and polishing
process—is as vivid, spectacular, and inspiring
as you’ll see.
You won’t struggle to feel the difference in this newest Standard, either. Les Paul players have always struggled to reconcile the guitar’s awesome sonics with its sheer heft: Depending on the density of the mahogany, an older Les Paul can easily weigh up to 12 pounds—or more. After trying several methods of chambering the Les Paul body to reduce weight without sacrificing tone, Gibson has turned to a system it calls Modern Web Weight Relief for the 2012 Standard.
Essentially, the core of the mahogany body is left as intact as possible, while small cavities are added around the outer bouts. The company says this reduces overall weight by an average of about 25 percent. If you play night after night, or long sets, that’s a noticeable difference. Some may argue there’s an inevitable cost in tone, but it’s hard to argue with the roar and sustain I heard in our test version.
Perhaps the 2012 model’s most radical feature, though, is the ability to tame that famous double-coil thickness with a very clever set of options that are concealed in an otherwise conventional-looking set of volume and tone pots. The bridge- and neck-pickup volume pots are push-pull pots, and pulling up either one activates what Gibson calls a frequency-tuned coil-tap—a single-coil mode that sounds remarkably like the clear, hot output you’d expect from a P-90.
What’s extra cool is that the coil-tap does not noticeably reduce output, but instead attenuates selected frequencies. For players who find the Les Paul thickness to be too much of a good thing, this is a great option for opening up a wider range of tones, while still having the powerhouse stuff at your disposal.
The Standard’s tone knobs have secret powers, too. The neck pickup’s tone control doubles as an out-of-phase switch. When both pickups are selected, this creates a pleasantly diffuse and grainier sound that works equally well in either humbucking or single-coil mode. In single-coil mode, this switch also determines whether the inner or outer coil of the neck pickup is in use. Meanwhile, the bridge pickup’s tone knob doubles as a bypass switch, sending that pickup’s signal around the tone section and directly to the output jack, adding brightness and volume in both humbucking and coil-tap mode.
Sticking Their Necks Out
The 2012 Standard shares several features
with the 2008 model, including locking
Grover tuners with kidney-shaped buttons.
But it adds some new hardware,
too, like a TonePros locking tailpiece and
locking Tune-o-matic-style bridge. The
2012 model also shares the 2008’s asymmetrical
neck shape, which is subtly fatter
and rounder behind the low strings,
and slightly thinner on the treble side.
Personally, I didn’t find the difference too
pronounced, but I did notice that the neck
feels exceptionally comfortable—and that
it was neither too skinny, nor overly round
or baseball bat-like.
The 1960 Standard neck shape—as always, the neck is mahogany—is clearly the jumping-off point here, and the asymmetry is better suited for fast lead work. But the new Standard also features a compound neck radius, and whereas the Les Paul Standard Traditional sports a 12" radius from nut to the 22nd fret, the new Standard boasts a 10" radius at the nut that flattens to 16" at the other end of the fretboard. Again, the difference is less noticeable than you might expect, but the result is lower, cleaner action that’s ideal for articulating complex figures.
Ratings
Pros:
Sumptuous finish. Compound neck radius yields clean,
easy action. Coil-tap, phase, and boost/bypass switching provides
a plethora of tones. Warm, aggressive sounds clean up nicely.
Cons:
Some tuning instability. Burstbucker pickups can
sound a little brash at some settings.
Tones:
Playability:
Build:
Value:
Street:
$2,499
Company
gibson.com
Standard Bearer
Playing the new Standard with a 6-piece
band covering a wide selection of classic
R&B, blues, heavy rock, ’80s rock,
and indie material, I found the expanded
range of tonal options—especially the
most decidedly un-Les Paul like ones—to
be very handy when I wanted to create
thinner chiming tones, funky rhythms,
or a less bossy sound. But what’s great is
that it’s no problem getting those bold,
fat tones, too. When used in the most
traditional manner, the volume and tone
pots can coax a wealth of tones, work great
for nuanced note swells, and can dial back
overdriven tones into nice, clean-but-edgy
territory, as well.
During rehearsal, I had a little difficulty keeping the guitar in tune, as well as some concerns about intonation of chords up the neck. At times, I also detected some creaky, string-slipping noise coming from the nut when bending strings above the 10th fret. These may be easily corrected factory-setup issues, and they did not seriously detract from my pleasure in playing the guitar—even if they did require spending a little more time tuning in between tunes.
The Verdict
The 2012 Les Paul Standard is a superb all-around
axe that combines archetypal styling
with some genuinely smart performance
enhancements that not only make it one of
the most versatile Les Paul’s ever—but about
as varied an electric guitar as you’ll find. If
you’re looking for a more literal recreation
of a 1958–1960 Les Paul Standard, the Les
Paul Standard Traditional is still available.
But if you’re a regularly gigging player looking
for both the mojo and majesty of a Les
Paul Standard and the versatility to get you
through stylistically diverse gigs and sessions,
the 2012 Les Paul Standard has the means—and then some—to get the job done.
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- Gibson Unveils the Adam Jones Les Paul Standard - Premier Guitar ›
- A Rare Vintage 1960 Gibson Les Paul Custom Guitar - Premier Guitar ›
Day 9 of Stompboxtober is live! Win today's featured pedal from EBS Sweden. Enter now and return tomorrow for more!
EBS BassIQ Blue Label Triple Envelope Filter Pedal
The EBS BassIQ produces sounds ranging from classic auto-wah effects to spaced-out "Funkadelic" and synth-bass sounds. It is for everyone looking for a fun, fat-sounding, and responsive envelope filter that reacts to how you play in a musical way.
John Mayer Silver Slinky Strings feature a unique 10.5-47 gauge combination, crafted to meet John's standards for tone and tension.
“I’ve always said that I don’t play the guitar, I play the strings. Having a feeling of fluidity is so important in my playing, and Ernie Ball strings have always given me that ability. With the creation of the Silver Slinky set, I have found an even higher level of expression, and I’m excited to share it with guitar players everywhere.”
— John Mayer
hese signature sets feature John’s previously unavailable 10.5-47 gauge combination, perfectly tailored to his unique playing style and technique. Each string has been meticulously crafted with specific gauges and core-to-wrap ratios that meet John’s exacting standards, delivering the ideal balance of tone and tension.
The new Silver Slinky Strings are available in a collectible 3-pack tin, a 6-pack box, and as individual sets, offered at retailers worldwide.
"Very few guitarists in the history of popular music have influenced a generation of players like John Mayer. For over 25 years, John has not only been a remarkable artist but also a dear friend to the Ernie Ball family. This partnership represents our shared passion for music and innovation, and we can't wait to see how John’s signature Silver Slinky strings continue to inspire guitarists around the world.”— Brian Ball, CEO of Ernie Ball
Product Features
- Unique gauge combination: 10.5, 13.5, 17.5, 27, 37, 47
- John’s signature gauge for an optimal balance of tone, tension, and feel
- Reinforced Plain Strings (RPS) for enhanced tuning stability and durability
- Custom Slinky recipes tailored to John’s personal preferences
The folk-rock outfit’s frontman Taylor Goldsmith wrote their debut at 23. Now, with the release of their ninth full-length, Oh Brother, he shares his many insights into how he’s grown as a songwriter, and what that says about him as an artist and an individual.
I’ve been following the songwriting of Taylor Goldsmith, the frontman of L.A.-based, folk-rock band Dawes, since early 2011. At the time, I was a sophomore in college, and had just discovered their debut, North Hills, a year-and-a-half late. (That was thanks in part to one of its tracks, “When My Time Comes,” pervading cable TV via its placement in a Chevy commercial over my winter break.) As I caught on, I became fully entranced.
Goldsmith’s lyrics spoke to me the loudest, with lines like “Well, you can judge the whole world on the sparkle that you think it lacks / Yes, you can stare into the abyss, but it’s starin’ right back” (a casual Nietzsche paraphrase); and “Oh, the snowfall this time of year / It’s not what Birmingham is used to / I get the feeling that I brought it here / And now I’m taking it away.” The way his words painted a portrait of the sincere, sentimental man behind them, along with his cozy, unassuming guitar work and the band’s four-part harmonies, had me hooked.
Nothing Is Wrong and Stories Don’t End came next, and I happily gobbled up more folksy fodder in tracks like “If I Wanted,” “Most People,” and “From a Window Seat.” But 2015’s All Your Favorite Bands, which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Folk Albumschart, didn’t land with me, and by the time 2016’s We’re All Gonna Die was released, it was clear that Goldsmith had shifted thematically in his writing. A friend drew a thoughtful Warren Zevon comparison to the single, “When the Tequila Runs Out”—a commentary on vapid, conceited, American-socialite party culture—but it still didn’t really do it for me. I fell off the Dawes train a bit, and became somewhat oblivious to their three full-lengths that followed.
Oh Brotheris Goldsmith’s latest addition to the Dawes songbook, and I’m grateful to say that it’s brought me back. After having done some catching up, I’d posit that it’s the second work in the third act, or fall season, of his songwriting—where 2022’s Misadventures of Doomscrollercracked open the door, Oh Brother swings it wide. And it doesn’t have much more than Dawes’ meat and potatoes, per se, in common with acts one or two. Some moodiness has stayed—as well as societal disgruntlement and the arrangement elements that first had me intoxicated. But then there’s the 7/4 section in the middle of “Front Row Seat”; the gently unwinding, quiet, intimate jazz-club feel of “Surprise!”; the experimentally percussive, soft-spoken “Enough Already”; and the unexpected, dare I say, Danny Elfman-esque harmonic twists and turns in the closing track, “Hilarity Ensues.”
The main engine behind Dawes, the Goldsmith brothers are both native “Angelinos,” having been born and raised in the L.A. area. Taylor is still proud to call the city his home.
Photo by Jon Chu
“I have this working hypothesis that who you are as a songwriter through the years is pretty close to who you are in a dinner conversation,” Goldsmith tells me in an interview, as I ask him about that thematic shift. “When I was 23, if I was invited to dinner with grownups [laughs], or just friends or whatever, and they say, ‘How you doin’, Taylor?’ I probably wouldn’t think twice to be like, ‘I’m not that good. There’s this girl, and … I don’t know where things are at—can I share this with you? Is that okay?’ I would just go in in a way that’s fairly indiscreet! And I’m grateful to that version of me, especially as a writer, because that’s what I wanted to hear, so that’s what I was making at the time.
“But then as I got older, it became, ‘Oh, maybe that’s not an appropriate way to answer the question of how I’m doing.’ Or, ‘Maybe I’ve spent enough years thinking about me! What does it feel like to turn the lens around?’” he continues, naming Elvis Costello and Paul Simon as inspirations along the way through that self-evolution. “Also, trying to be mindful of—I had strengths then that I don’t have now, but I have strengths now that I didn’t have then. And now it’s time to celebrate those. Even in just a physical way, like hearing Frank Zappa talking about how his agility as a guitar player was waning as he got older. It’s like, that just means that you showcase different aspects of your skills.
“I am a changing person. It would be weird if I was still writing the same way I was when I was 23. There would probably be some weird implications there as to who I’d be becoming as a human [laughs].”
Taylor Goldsmith considers Oh Brother, the ninth full-length in Dawes’ catalog, to be the beginning of a new phase of Dawes, containing some of his most unfiltered, unedited songwriting.
Since its inception, the engine behind Dawes has been the brothers Goldsmith, with Taylor on guitar and vocals and Griffin on drums and sometimes vocal harmonies. But they’ve always had consistent backup. For the first several years, that was Wylie Gelber on bass and Tay Strathairn on keyboards. On We’re All Gonna Die, Lee Pardini replaced Strathairn and has been with the band since. Oh Brother, however, marks the departure of Gelber and Pardini.
“We were like, ‘Wow, this is an intense time; this is a vulnerable time,’” remarks Goldsmith, who says that their parting was supportive and loving, but still rocked him and Griffin. “You get a glimpse of your vulnerability in a way that you haven’t felt in a long time when things are just up and running. For a second there, we’re like, ‘We’re getting a little rattled—how do we survive this?’”
They decided to pair up with producer Mike Viola, a close family friend, who has also worked with Mandy Moore—Taylor’s spouse—along with Panic! At the Disco, Andrew Bird, and Jenny Lewis. “[We knew that] he understands all of the parameters of that raw state. And, you know, I always show Mike my songs, so he was aware of what we had cookin’,” says Goldsmith.
Griffin stayed behind the kit, but Taylor took over on bass and keys, the latter of which he has more experience with than he’s displayed on past releases. “We’ve made records where it’s very tempting to appeal to your strengths, where it’s like, ‘Oh, I know how to do this, I’m just gonna nail it,’” he says. “Then there’s records that we make where we really push ourselves into territories where we aren’t comfortable. That contributed to [Misadventures of Doomscroller] feeling like a living, breathing thing—very reactive, very urgent, very aware. We were paying very close attention. And I would say the same goes for this.”
That new terrain, says Goldsmith, “forced us to react to each other and react to the music in new ways, and all of a sudden, we’re exploring new corners of what we do. I’m really excited in that sense, because it’s like this is the first album of a new phase.”
“That forced us to react to each other and react to the music in new ways, and all of a sudden, we’re exploring new corners of what we do.”
In proper folk (or even folk-rock) tradition, the music of Dawes isn’t exactly riddled with guitar solos, but that’s not to say that Goldsmith doesn’t show off his chops when the timing is right. Just listen to the languid, fluent lick on “Surprise!”, the shamelessly prog-inspired riff in the bridge of “Front Row Seat,” and the tactful, articulate line that threads through “Enough Already.” Goldsmith has a strong, individual sense of phrasing, where his improvised melodies can be just as biting as his catalog’s occasional lyrical jabs at presumably toxic ex-girlfriends, and just as melancholy as his self-reflective metaphors, all the while without drawing too much attention to himself over the song.
Of course, most of our conversation revolves around songwriting, as that’s the craft that’s the truest and closest to his identity. “There’s an openness, a goofiness—I even struggle to say it now, but—an earnestness that goes along with who I am, not only as a writer but as a person,” Goldsmith elaborates. “And I think it’s important that those two things reflect one another. ’Cause when you meet someone and they don’t, I get a little bit weirded out, like, ‘What have I been listening to? Are you lying to me?’” he says with a smile.
Taylor Goldsmith's Gear
Pictured here performing live in 2014, Taylor Goldsmith has been the primary songwriter for all of Dawes' records, beginning with 2009’s North Hills.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
Guitars
- Fender Telecaster
- Gibson ES-345
- Radocaster (made by Wylie Gelber)
Amps
- ’64 Fender Deluxe
- Matchless Laurel Canyon
Effects
- 29 Pedals EUNA
- Jackson Audio Bloom
- Ibanez Tube Screamer with Keeley mod
- Vintage Boss Chorus
- Vintage Boss VB-2 Vibrato
- Strymon Flint
- Strymon El Capistan
Strings
- Ernie Ball .010s
In Goldsmith’s songwriting process, he explains that he’s learned to lean away from the inclination towards perfectionism. Paraphrasing something he heard Father John Misty share about Leonard Cohen, he says, “People think you’re cultivating these songs, or, ‘I wouldn’t deign to write something that’s beneath me,’ but the reality is, ‘I’m a rat, and I’ll take whatever I can possibly get, and then I’ll just try to get the best of it.’
“Ever since Misadventures of Doomscroller,” he adds, “I’ve enjoyed this quality of, rather than try to be a minimalist, I want to be a maximalist. I want to see how much a song can handle.” For the songs on Oh Brother, that meant that he decided to continue adding “more observations within the universe” of “Surprise!”, ultimately writing six verses. A similar approach to “King of the Never-Wills,” a ballad about a character suffering from alcoholism, resulted in four verses.
“The economy of songwriting that we’re all taught would buck that,” says Goldsmith. “It would insist that I only keep the very best and shed something that isn’t as good. But I’m not going to think economically. I’m not going to think, ‘Is this self-indulgent?’
Goldsmith’s songwriting has shifted thematically over the years, from more personal, introspective expression to more social commentary and, at times, even satire, in songs like We’re All Gonna Die’s “When the Tequila Runs Out.”
Photo by Mike White
“I don’t abide that term being applied to music. Because if there’s a concern about self-indulgence, then you’d have to dismiss all of jazz. All of it. You’d have to dismiss so many of my most favorite songs. Because in a weird way, I feel like that’s the whole point—self-indulgence. And then obviously relating to someone else, to another human being.” (He elaborates that, if Bob Dylan had trimmed back any of the verses on “Desolation Row,” it would have deprived him of the unique experience it creates for him when he listens to it.)
One of the joys of speaking with Goldsmith is just listening to his thought processes. When I ask him a question, he seems compelled to share every backstory to every detail that’s going through his head, in an effort to both do his insights justice and to generously provide me with the most complete answer. That makes him a bit verbose, but not in a bad way, because he never rambles. There is an endpoint to his thoughts. When he’s done, however, it takes me a second to realize that it’s then my turn to speak.
To his point on artistic self-indulgence, I offer that there’s no need for artists to feel “icky” about self-promotion—that to promote your art is to celebrate it, and to create a shared experience with your audience.
“I hear what you’re saying loud and clear; I couldn’t agree more,” Goldsmith replies. “But I also try to be mindful of this when I’m writing, like if I’m going to drag you through the mud of, ‘She left today, she’s not coming back, I’m a piece of shit, what’s wrong with me, the end’.... That might be relatable, that might evoke a response, but I don’t know if that’s necessarily helpful … other than dragging someone else through the shit with me.
“In a weird way, I feel like that’s the whole point—self-indulgence. And then obviously relating to someone else, to another human being.”
“So, if I’m going to share, I want there to be something to offer, something that feels like: ‘Here’s a path that’s helped me through this, or here’s an observation that has changed how I see this particular experience.’ It’s so hard to delineate between the two, but I feel like there is a difference.”
Naming the opening track “Mister Los Angeles,” “King of the Never-Wills,” and even the title track to his 2015 chart-topper, “All Your Favorite Bands,” he remarks, “I wouldn’t call these songs ‘cool.’ Like, when I hear what cool music is, I wouldn’t put those songs next to them [laughs]. But maybe this record was my strongest dose of just letting me be me, and recognizing what that essence is rather than trying to force out certain aspects of who I am, and force in certain aspects of what I’m not. I think a big part of writing these songs was just self-acceptance,” he concludes, laughing, “and just a whole lot of fishing.”
YouTube It
Led by Goldsmith, Dawes infuses more rock power into their folk sound live at the Los Angeles Ace Hotel in 2023.
A more affordable path to satisfying your 1176 lust.
An affordable alternative to Cali76 and 1176 comps that sounds brilliant. Effective, satisfying controls.
Big!
$269
Warm Audio Pedal76
warmaudio.com
Though compressors are often used to add excitement to flat tones, pedal compressors for guitar are often … boring. Not so theWarm Audio Pedal76. The FET-driven, CineMag transformer-equipped Pedal76 is fun to look at, fun to operate, and fun to experiment with. Well, maybe it’s not fun fitting it on a pedalboard—at a little less than 6.5” wide and about 3.25” tall, it’s big. But its potential to enliven your guitar sounds is also pretty huge.
Warm Audio already builds a very authentic and inexpensive clone of the Urei 1176, theWA76. But the font used for the model’s name, its control layout, and its dimensions all suggest a clone of Origin Effects’ much-admired first-generation Cali76, which makes this a sort of clone of an homage. Much of the 1176’s essence is retained in that evolution, however. The Pedal76 also approximates the 1176’s operational feel. The generous control spacing and the satisfying resistance in the knobs means fast, precise adjustments, which, in turn, invite fine-tuning and experimentation.
Well-worn 1176 formulas deliver very satisfying results from the Pedal76. The 10–2–4 recipe (the numbers correspond to compression ratio and “clock” positions on the ratio, attack, and release controls, respectively) illuminates lifeless tones—adding body without flab, and an effervescent, sparkly color that preserves dynamics and overtones. Less subtle compression tricks sound fantastic, too. Drive from aggressive input levels is growling and thick but retains brightness and nuance. Heavy-duty compression ratios combined with fast attack and slow release times lend otherworldly sustain to jangly parts. Impractically large? Maybe. But I’d happily consider bumping the rest of my gain devices for the Pedal76.