
The material, thickness, texture, and shape of that pick have an outsized impact not only on the sound we create, but also on our phrasing and articulation.
It's kind of ironic, but it may be that the smallest and most affordable piece of gear we guitarists own—ounce for ounce, and dollar for dollar—has the biggest impact on both our tone and our technique. We use the pick (or “plectrum") to strike the strings, and that sets our entire audio signal in motion—whether it's through airborne acoustic sound waves or a signal path full of stompboxes feeding blaring amps. The material, thickness, texture, and shape of that pick have an outsized impact not only on the sound we create, but also on our phrasing and articulation.
Indeed, a pick can strongly influence our musical decision-making: Do we play linear, single-note lines in a more legato fashion because we want to minimize the crisp attack our heavy pick imparts, or do we crank out melodic double-stops because that same pick attack pushes them over the top in such an addictive way? Do we add upstroke ghost notes to that rhythm part because our thin pick gives them an ethereal subtlety, or just keep a battery of eighth-notes going because the understated feel helps build tension? Regardless of the genre of music you play, and the musical applications you're attempting to serve, your choice of pick will provide a tonal foundation for your sound and your technique.
Fortunately, it's a good time to explore picks, because there's a smorgasbord of varieties available today. In addition to the big pick kahunas that've been around for decades—companies like Fender, Dunlop, D'Andrea, and Ernie Ball—a slew of smaller manufacturers are making top-notch picks in a variety of styles and materials. These new companies include Red Bear Trading Company, Steve Clayton, V-Picks, Wegen, JB, BlueChip, Golden Gate, PickBoy, Wedgie, and more. If, like most players, you've been using the same pick for years, perhaps now's the time to experiment with shapes and materials you'd never considered before. You may be amazed at what a sharper tip, a heavier gauge, or a more unusual material might bring out of you. And it's a helluva lot cheaper than shelling out for another guitar, amp, or even a pedal.
1. The Material World
Generalizations about the tonal characteristics of pick materials are hard to make, because everyone uses them a bit differently. But if you've ever been caught without a pick and had to resort to fishing a quarter out of your pocket, you know just how harsh and unforgiving the wrong material can be. (Although, even a quarter may be a fitting plectrum in some circumstances!)
By and large, most electric guitarists today use some form of plastic or nylon pick, but the types of plastic have changed considerably over the years. Luigi D'Andrea first began making guitar picks from cellulose acetate plastic back in 1922, and it has remained one of the standard materials for guitar picks ever since, as with Ernie Ball's standard line of Cellulose Acetate Nitrate picks (ernieball.com). Some pick purists swear by "tortoiseshell," which is actually made from the shell of the Atlantic Hawksbill Turtle—an endangered species that is, incidentally, not a tortoise at all. When real turtle shell was banned from trade back in 1973, pick makers turned to plastics to emulate its combination of flexibility and durability. In the process, they discovered DuPont Delrin, the material used in Dunlop's long-lived and very popular Tortex line (jimdunlop.com), D'Andrea's Delrex line (dandreausa.com), and Ernie Ball's new Everlast picks.
The Tortex pick's distinctive powdery texture—which applies friction to the strings and helps make for a surer grip— comes from a proprietary polishing process that's part of Dunlop's own version of the basic "punch-and-tumble" pick-making technique. (The other frequently used process is injection molding.) "For the longest time, our nylon picks were No. 1 for us in the US," says Jimmy Dunlop, "and they're still huge in the UK. But, starting in the early '90s with the grunge guys, Tortex really started to take over: All those guys used Tortex—Kurt Cobain, Jerry Cantrell, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden … ."
While Delrin aims to emulate the properties of turtle shell, newer plastics like Ultem (polyetherimide) are also being used, including in Dunlop's Ultex line and Steve Clayton's Ultem picks (steveclayton.com). Many tortoiseshell enthusiasts—especially bluegrass and Gypsy-jazz players—are also singing the praises of Red Bear Trading Company (redbeartrading.com), whose Red Bear Original and Tortis picks are made of a polymerized animal protein that Red Bear's Michael Skowron likes to call "cultured turtle shell." Companies like Wegen (wegenpicks.com), Golden Gate, and BlueChip (bluechippick.net) are also making tortoiseshell-style picks from various materials.
Nylon picks—including the legendary Herco Flex used by Jimmy Page, David Gilmour, and Gene Simmons (and which are now made and distributed by Dunlop)—have been a mainstay for many players for decades. They have an arguably brighter sound and more flexibility than comparably thick plastic picks, and they very often have textured grips that make them less likely to slip out of your hand at that sweaty blues jam. They may appeal more to players shooting for a vintage sound, as they seem less suited to the kind of very compressed tone and tight rhythm phrasing that modern rockers gravitate towards.
Stone, wood, leather, and other more exotic materials certainly have their place, too—both as aesthetically beautiful items and as alternate tone generators. In general, the harder and denser the material, the more crisp and cutting the resulting sound. As with guitar bodies and necks, wood picks can impart a variety of tones ranging from brighter and more articulate (e.g., from harder woods) to earthier, warmer sounds from softer woods. The Stone Picks Co. (stonepicks.com) makes picks from gemstones and jade, while Stoneworks (stoneworkspicks.com) creates one-of-a-kind picks from materials like turquoise, variscite, and something they call "dinosaur bone." Surfpick (surfpick.com) makes plectra out of lignum vitae wood, while Pick Your Axe (pickyouraxe.com) offers a variety of woods, including zebrawood, walnut and bubinga. If you're hell-bent for leather, you'll want to check out Corter Leather (corterleather.bigcartel.com), which makes picks out of good ol' hide—you can even have them tanned to order. If you find you still like the sound of that nickel or quarter after all, you might look into Fender's Steel pick (fender.com)— just don't drop it in a slot machine.
2. Get with the Thickness
Whatever the material, a thinner pick— somewhere between .40 and .60 mm for more standard materials like Delrin or nylon—will have a lighter sound that often works better for acoustic strumming and other applications where you want a more trebly tone. The classic strummed acoustic guitar zing sound—so useful on rock, pop, and country recordings for filling in the midrange and helping to define rhythms— is almost always the result of using a thin or extra thin pick. Indeed, the noise of the thin pick flapping against the strings is often an essential part of that sound.
Conversely, thin picks make little sense for rock rhythm guitar or lead, however, as they deliver very little bass or midrange tone, and simply lack the heft necessary to bring out a well-rounded tone on singlenote leads. For that, you'll at least need to step up to a medium-gauge pick—which is generally in the range of .60 to .80 mm. Mediums remain the most popular pick thickness, and with good reason: While they're not ideal for zingy strumming, they're the perfect combination of stiffness and flexibility for rock rhythm work and full-bodied acoustic accompaniment (especially in solo situations), and they've got enough heft to produce powerful tones on leads and hook figures as well. Tonally, they tend to help produce a good blend of high-end bite and lower mid-range thump, without being too shrill or boomy.
Of course, there's nothing wrong with a little boom. For a heavier sound, you'll naturally want to gravitate to a heavier pick—basically anything past .80 mm. At the lower end of this range, you'll still have enough flexibility for crunchy rhythms, but you'll also have the firmness you need for full-bodied chord arpeggios and fat lead lines. In fact, it's noteworthy just how much one's tone changes in switching from a medium to a thick pick. Solos suddenly sound more dynamically even—almost compressed— with fewer transients and spikes. And you may even find that your leads seem to clean up a bit, as there's likely to be less pick noise and less slop in your playing.
At the thicker end of this range, over 1.5 mm, you'll find the ideal weights for bebop and other big-body jazz guitar playing— sounds that become increasingly mellow and warm, and lines that sound even cleaner and more burnished. But the biggies aren't just for jazz cats: Metal dudes who favor a bottom-heavy, scooped-mid sound will also want to experiment with picks in the 1.5 mm to 3 mm range.
3. Shape of Things
The shape of your pick is another place to consider experimenting. While you may be attached to a certain shape, as your playing develops, you may find that a different shape becomes more desirable. Generally, electric players who want more precision, control, and articulation of single-note lines (including shred kings like Dream Theater's John Petrucci, who uses teardrop-shaped d) will gravitate toward smaller, heavier picks with pointier tips, which is why virtually all jazz-oriented picks are shaped this way.
As Jimmy Dunlop puts it, "If you make the conversion to a Jazz III pick, you're not coming back. If you suddenly were to go back to a standard-size pick after that, it would be like putting on a pair of clown shoes and trying to run the 40-yard dash. You simply develop a more articulate style with a pick like that."
Those teardrop and small, triangular shapes, says Ernie Ball's Derek Brooks, "were really made popular by the jazz guys, and I've also noticed that a lot of the progressive, highly technical shred players also prefer those. Arguably, there's less drag on a smaller pick like that." Apart from the standard, teardrop and jazz shapes, other essential shapes include the equilateral triangle and the fin shape, which offers more than one style of contact surface, including a multi-point edge, as well as a more standard rounded point.
But it's not just the shape you should consider, either—it's which part of said shape you use. Some players use the rounded rear portion of the standard pick shape to get a sound that's a little more full and, well, rounded.
4. Tap into Textures
Though it's probably one of the most overlooked aspects of picks from a tonal perspective, believe it or not, the texture of your plectrum's surface can also be a big deal. Many pick designs—including Dunlop's traditional Nylon picks (as well as their Max-Grip cousins) and D'Andrea's Brain picks—feature raised lettering and/ or other patterns intended to help you maintain a better hold under sweaty conditions. But a lot of players like these raised surfaces even more for the impact they have on tone. Famous players who reportedly flip these picks around so that the textured grip surface comes in contact with the strings include country star Keith Urban and U2's the Edge (who uses nylon Herdim picks with raiseddot grippage). Try it out—grab a pick with raised dots or lettering, and dig how it imparts a more biting texture to your sound.
How to Pull off a Rockin' Pick Slide
A dramatic pick slide is either the coolest pick trick, or the dorkiest, depending on how well you pull it off. If you sound like Eddie Van Halen on the intro to 1979's "D.O.A.," you've got it mastered. If your cat shrieks—keep practicing. A Dunlop Tortex Heavy has the perfect mix of grainy, powdery texture and weight for pick slides, while most cellulose and nylon picks don't. Here's the key: The pick should be held flat against the low E string, so that the gripping surface—not the edge—is what contacts the string. (That's why they don't call it a "pick scrape." No one said a glory move like this would be easy.) Start with the pick back by the bridge, and drag it rapidly along the length of the string, all the way to the nut. You'll want to have a decent amount of gain for this—and it doesn't hurt to have a phaser and some delay to help create that jet-swoosh sound while making the whole slide that much bigger and broader. —JR
5. A Question of Style
Ultimately, the pick you choose will have everything to do with what style of music you play and the unique attributes you bring to that style. Still, it's equally fascinating that it also works the other way around: The pick you use can have a determining effect on how your style develops. "I like to play solos, so I prefer a heavy pick for digging in," says Ernie Ball's Brooks, "and that's the only pick I use. So I'm aware that that's had a big impact on my rhythm style, which might be quite different if I'd used a medium pick all these years."
Although players of all types are encouraged to be adventurous with every consideration we're discussing here, there are still some pretty reliable rules of thumb to follow if you're new to guitar and are overwhelmed by the possibilities. For acoustic players, here's what we recommend: Acoustic chord strummers will generally want to use a thin pick, probably one made of cellulose, Delrin, or faux tortoiseshell. Acoustic flatpickers engaging in more intricate playing and single-note lines will probably prefer something a bit more rigid, perhaps a medium or a heavy. And they, too, will want to seek out some of the excellent tortoiseshell replacements, such as Red Bear's Original and Tortis, Dunlop's Ultex, Clayton's Ultem, or JB's Shell Sonics (jbpicks.com). That said, a good old-fashioned Fender Medium or D'Andrea Classic Celluloid will also work. And if thumbpicks are your calling, most manufacturers have something that'll suit your needs.
Electric rock players, on the other hand, can, uh, take their pick, though they will almost certainly favor medium to very heavy gauges of standard-shaped or large triangular picks, with either a rounded or a sharp tip. Classic- and indie-rock players might consider nylon or cellulose, while metal and grunge aficionados might steer toward Delrin or even acrylic models, such as V-Picks' Stiletto, Switchblade, Venom, or Snake models (v-picks.com). As we mentioned previously, regardless of genre, if accuracy and precision are your game, consider trying a smaller, harder pick with a sharp tip. Jazz players also typically favor the smaller, harder picks, such as Dunlop's Jazz III or Big Stubby, Planet Waves Black Ice Extra Heavy (planetwaves.com), PickBoy Pos-A-Grip Jazz (pickboyguitarpicks.com), and many others.
To Each Their Own
There's no accounting for taste, of course, and the only way to really find your true voice on the instrument is to keep practicing and keep experimenting. Ultimately, only your own ears can tell you when you've found the pick that best assists you in realizing the sound inside your head. And chances are, your idea of what constitutes the ideal pick will evolve over time, or at least broaden to include different considerations for different applications. So try as many as you can and keep your ears—and your mind—open. With that approach, you're sure to always pick a winner.
Alternative Picks
Not everyone is content to use a pick made from cellulose, nylon, or even stone, and even the most diehard tortoiseshell user may want to change things up now and again. Fortunately, offbeat pick variations and other unusual string-strokers abound.
Jellifish Plectrum Effect
Looking a bit like Sigmund the Sea Monster, the Jellifish pick is not really a pick at all, but a series of 18 small pieces of guitar-string-like wire arranged on a slight grade and held together by a plastic, pick-like fob. You can produce a chorus effect by grazing it over the strings laterally, or arc it back and forth over the strings for a sound not unlike a cello or a viola. jellifish.com
The Wirething Guitar Pick
This little oddity comes in models that use a nylon, acrylic, or plastic injection-molded body with a small metal wire made of steel or copper alloy for striking the strings. Jerry Donahue and Gene Bertoncini sing its praises, which isn't bad company to keep. wirething.com
Fred Kelly Bumblebee Jazz
This interesting hybrid is basically a yellow thumbpick attached to a small, black flatpick, giving you the best of both worlds. fredkellypicks.com
Heet Sound EBow
While not a pick in the usual sense, the EBow has been cool for so long and through so many phases of musical fashion, that its actual method of actuating strings—by focusing "a sympathetic oscillating magnetic field" on them—is almost secondary. Used liberally by everyone from Robert Fripp and Adrian Belew to Radiohead, Bloc Party, and Opeth, it's almost certainly the most popular device for coaxing sounds from a guitar outside of a traditional guitar pick. With a sound somewhere between a guitar synth and an angry cello, it's simply a must-have for every recording player. ebow.com/home.php
Updated on 4/20/2021.
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Elliott Sharp is a dapper dude. Not a dandy, mind you, but an elegant gentleman.
The outside-the-box 6-string swami pays homage to the even-further-outside-the-box musician who’s played a formative role in the downtown Manhattan scene and continues to quietly—and almost compulsively—shape the worlds of experimental and roots music.
Often the most potent and iconoclastic artists generate extraordinary work for decades, yet seem to be relegated to the shadows, to a kind of perma-underground status. Certainly an artist like my friend Elliott Sharp fits this category. Yes, his work can be resolutely avant-garde. But perhaps the most challenging thing about trying to track this man is the utterly remarkable breadth of his work.
I am writing this piece for a guitar magazine, so, necessarily, I must serve up info that is guitar-centric. And I can do that, at least a little bit. But Elliott is also a noted composer, runs his own little record label, plays woodwinds proficiently, is a guitar builder/tinkerer, author, gracious supporter of other musicians’ efforts, family man, and killer blues player—a blues scholar, in fact. So where do we, the public, conditioned to needing categories, pigeonholes, and easy assessment signals, put Elliott Sharp—an artist with a powerful work ethic and a long, illustrious career of making mind-bending sounds and conceptual works? How about putting him in the pantheon of the maverick and the multifaceted? Surely this pantheon exists somewhere! In mind, in heart. To those for whom such things resonate and inspire, I bring you Elliott Sharp.
One can obviously go to the information superhighway to find info on Elliott, and to hear his music, so I won’t go into too many details about where he was born (Cleveland) and when (March 1, 1951; as of this writing, Elliott is 74), or what he is best known for (being a crucial figure in the downtown New York City scene from 1979 to the present). He is Berlin Prize winner and a Guggenheim Fellow (among other honors). And I have never asked him what strings and picks he uses, so maybe I have already blown it here. But I realize now, having taken on this assignment, that inherent in writing about and trying to explain Elliott Sharp is an implicit TMI factor. There is so much going on here, so much diverse information that could be imparted, that I would not be the least bit surprised if some readers eventually glaze over a bit and start thinking of their own life’s efforts and goals as rather paltry. I get that! Although you shouldn’t.
E# @NaturalHabitat
Here, now, is my portrait of Elliott, accompanied by what I imagine is a day in the life of Elliott when he’s at home in New York City.
Elliott Sharp is a dapper dude. Not a dandy, mind you, but an elegant gentleman. He, like so many in New York and in the world of music/art/guitar, favors dark-hued clothing (yeah, a preponderance of black) and is most often seen wearing a classic slouch hat of obvious quality. He relocated from Buffalo via Western Massachusetts to lower Manhattan in 1979 to a zone that was, back then, quite treacherously decrepit, in an apartment that offered only an hour or so of heat in the winter, etc., etc. It was cheap, and things were always happening, and, in fact, it was the 1950s domicile of William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, and Jack Kerouac.The area became the nexus of an ever-expanding circle of iconoclastic, experimental artists of many stripes.
Sharp plays what passes for a fairly staid instrument in his collection: a bass and guitar doubleneck, in 1992.
Elliott is still in that building in the East Village, though it is now only his workplace and not his living space. I am trying to remember exactly when I met Elliott, but it was probably about 25 years ago, and he still had only the one small, original apartment and a shared music space in the Garment District. I, like countless others before and after me, stayed in that East Village apartment whenever I needed a place to crash and Elliott was elsewhere, and eventually he was able to secure the next door apartment and expand his space. This is where Elliott Sharp works every day that he is not touring, pretty much 9 to 6. The place is a bit funky and dusty, and it is filled with instruments, amps (some classics, like a mid-’60s Princeton Reverb and a tweed Champ), and other tools accumulated over many decades—in spite of the many times that certain ones had to be sold to keep bread on the table.
When he’s not composing, scoring films, recording other artists, or gigging with the bands he has been in or led for the last several decades (Mofungo, Carbon/Orchestra Carbon, SysOrk, Terraplane, The Bootstrappers, Aggragat), Elliott tinkers with guitars, pedals, mandolins. Elliott is, to me, the king of guitar transformation, and his tinkering is stunningly Frankensteinian as he guts, rebuilds, and alters all kinds of stringed instruments, both electric and acoustic. He recently told me that in the ’60s he built fuzz boxes out of tobacco tins to make money. How cool would it be to have one of those now?? If one does a search on Elliott Sharp, many photos will reveal what I'm talking about: the handcrafted doubleneck he was most often seen playing in the ’80s (there was maybe more than one), 8-string guitars, modified Strat-type guitars with completely different pickups.. He also has a fancy guitar or two, such as his Koll fanned-fret 8-string, upon which he has played many a solo recital. During Covid time,, things were a little slow in the cash-flow department and, as a family man with twins, a little extra income was needed. So Elliott started building really cool-looking guitars out of cheap
ones and parts from wherever and refinishing them in hip and attractive ways and called them Mutantu. He sold them to friends and friends of friends. Yours truly basically only changes strings on his guitars, appealing helplessly to experts to do any kind of work on his guitars and amps, afraid of costly errors. The maverick and multifaceted among us, like Elliott, possess no such fear.
Even a leader in experimental 6-string gets a little guitar face now and then—especially when he’s playing blues.
Photo by Scott Friedlander
So, back to that promised day in the life of Elliott Sharp (as imagined, with some degree of knowledge, by me): It’s early morning, and there is family to contend with. No bohemian lollygagging! So it’s feed the kids breakfast, do what parents must do. Then it’s off to the office (his studio), so Elliott dons a fine gray shirt (is that silk?), dark trousers, coat, and hat, and walks north from the family apartment on nearly the lowest point of eastern Manhattan to the East Village. The traffic and endless refurbishing of the Williamsburg Bridge roars familiarly overhead, the East River flows, and eventually a river of another kind, Houston Street, is crossed. Up the stairs to the fifth floor and the studio door is unlocked. Espresso is made. (There will be more of this.) The computer is turned on. And then ... who knows? Anything could be on the docket, but some sort of work will ensue for a good eight hours. Maybe a new graphic score for a German symphony is in the works (some of these have become visual artworks, too), or maybe it's time to try another mix of that Terraplane track, the one with Elliott’s friend, hero, and inspiration Hubert Sumlin—the one Elliott recorded not long before the famed Howlin’ Wolf guitarist joined his ancestors in the Great Beyond. Or maybe he’s recording a variation on his trio ERR Guitar (where he was originally joined by Marc Ribot and Mary Halvorson), called ERE Guitar Today, with Sally Gates and Tashi Dorji. Could happen—and it did. You can see Elliott’s studio in the ERE Guitar CD booklet.
Or maybe it’s guitar tinkering/building time. Where’s that delightfully chunky neck from China that would be awesome on that fake Tele body that was just refitted with no-name humbuckers (“sounded good once I removed the pickup covers,” Elliott observes) and a resophonic guitar tailpiece? By 5 or 6 it’s time to go home, maybe cook dinner tonight. And then ... my little imagined epic ends with a tasteful cinematic cliché: the dissolve.
The E# Way
Elliott Sharp has techniques that, in some cases, are all his own. No stranger to open tunings, prepared guitar, and other extended techniques, he often utilizes rhythmic, two-hand tapping to create spiraling, hypnotic patterns. His composing over these many years has employed and embraced genetics, Fibonacci numbers, algorithms, and fractal geometry. Though a mathematics and physics know-nothing myself, I see and hear a relationship between these elements as he has applied them to his uncompromisingly avant-garde compositions and these tapping patterns often heard in his solo work. Once he kicks in signal processing, stand back! What one hears sounds like four people (or other species and life forms), and the sensation is exhilarating. Sure, there could also be evidence of (here it comes) skronk (I can't believe I used that word), but Elliott certainly does not reside permanently in that world. Enjoying all kinds of sounds, from the lonesome moan of a resonator guitar to the aleatoric sputterings and squeals of a tormented electric guitar, is something he and I share, after all. Take, for example, two of his latest recordings on his zOaR imprint, Mandorleand Mandocello, which document his solo work on the two instruments, respectively. Both recordings investigate the instruments’ acoustic characteristics before, about half-way through, switching suddenly to electric, ultra-processed sounds. It’s a bracing experience that explains a few things about this man and the breadth of his aesthetic sweep. The sounds bring up images of recombinant DNA (information on which he has also imbued into his work), roiling lava, and the ever-expanding universe. Recommended!
Sharp applies his wicked two-handed-tapping technique to his 8-string, fanned-fret guitar built by Saul Koll.
Photo by Scott Friedlander
So, this might fit into the aforementioned TMI category, but Elliott Sharp puts out a staggering amount of recordings. Every time I see him (which is not often enough), he has a little pile of compact discs for me, often on zOaR. I saw somewhere recently that he has released 165 recordings, but I think there are probably more than that. It’s hard for even the data lords to keep up! But it’s not always Elliott Sharp pieces or improvisation/collaborations on these albums. Other artists whom Elliott knows and respects can be represented, such as Spanish electric guitarist/conceptualizer A. L. Guillén, late bassist/producer Peter Freeman, Italian voice and guitar duo XIPE, or Hardenger fiddle player Agnese Amico—all articulate and singular musicians whom Elliott assists by releasing their music. I am grateful for this. It’s obviously more “work” for Elliott, and he accomplishes it, along with everything else he takes on or imagines doing, with elegant aplomb. Though obviously a nose-to-the-grindstone worker, Elliott is generally low-key and relaxed, even after those espressos.
The last thing I want to write about is Elliott's interpretations of the music of Thelonious Monk. Are you surprised, even after everything else you have just read, that something like that exists? In 2003, Elliott released a solo acoustic guitar recording called Sharp? Monk? Sharp! Monk!, and stunned the world (well, those few who pay attention to such things). However, my first exposure to Elliott's Monk interpretations was the more recent Monkulations, expertly recorded live in Vienna in 2007. (You can hear it on Bandcamp). These recordings are, justifiably I suppose, controversial in certain corners, because they do not adhere to Monk's exact written particulars note-for-note. Yet the mood, gestures, rhythmic wonders, and even the harmonic depth of Thelonious Monk often emerges, and frequently in astonishing ways. I understand why some would take issue with this approach because it departs significantly from the jazz tradition, but I find it remarkably fresh, bold, and so delightfully E#. They reveal an aspect of Elliott’s thinking and playing that is surprising in some ways, but also so him. It is clear to me that Elliott has seriously examined and internalized Monk’s repertoire.
Spring(s) in the garden: Sharp can use just about any tool in his improvisations.
Photo by Norman Westberg
Elliott is an artist who plays more than one instrument, plays them all in unique, startling, and often innovative ways, composes rigorous conceptual works from chamber music to operas, makes electronic music with no guitar, plays mean blues guitar like a swamp rat, authors books (I highly recommend his mostly memoir IrRational Music, and a second book is emerging this fall), builds and modifies guitars and other devices, is stunningly prolific, and is an elegant gentleman. The planet is a better place with him and his work in it. The maverick and multifaceted often have a rough road to tread, as we all know. So check out Elliott Sharp's vast world if any of this seems interesting to you. Thanks, Elliott!
YouTube
Watch Elliott Sharp and Marc Ribot deliver a masterclass in free improvisation at Manhattan’s Cornelia Street Café in 2010—Sharp’s two-handed tapping and slide playing included.
Elliott Sharp’s Favorite Gear
This doubleneck guitar accompanied Sharp on many of his ’80s performances and is one of his earlier experimental instruments, as is this 8-string.
Road
Guitars
• Strandberg 8-string Boden
• 1996 Henderson-Greco 8-string
Amp
• Fender Deluxe Reverb or black-panel Twin Reverb (depending on size of venue)
• Trace-Elliot bass amp w 4x10 cabinet
(live rig uses both amps, run in stereo)
Effects
• Eventide H90 w/ Sonicake expression pedal
• Sonicake Fuzz
• Hotone Komp
• Hotone Blues
• TC Electronic Flashback 2
• VSN Twin Looper
Accessories
• Slides, EBows, springs, metal rods and strips, small wooden and ceramic square plates
Road
Guitars
• Strandberg 8-string Boden
• 1996 Henderson-Greco 8-string
Amp
• Fender Deluxe Reverb or black-panel Twin Reverb (depending on size of venue)
• Trace-Elliot bass amp w 4x10 cabinet
(live rig uses both amps, run in stereo)
Effects
• Eventide H90 w/ Sonicake expression pedal
• Sonicake Fuzz
• Hotone Komp
• Hotone Blues
• TC Electronic Flashback 2
• VSN Twin Looper
Accessories
• Slides, EBows, springs, metal rods and strips, small wooden and ceramic square plates
Home
Guitars
• 1946 Martin OO-18 acoustic guitar
• 2006 Squier 51 (Sharp explains: “On New Year's Day 2007, I took the twins down to the East River in their stroller. They were 15 months old and knew a few words. As we rolled along, they started shouting “guitar, guitar,” and, sure enough, sticking out of a garbage can was a black Squier 51 that someone had attempted to ritually sacrifice. Brought it home and cleaned it, and it’s become a favorite couch guitar.”)
Obviously, any sound that emerges from the Triple-Course Bass Pantar is likelly to be interesting.
Studio
Guitars and stringed instruments
• Fender 1994 ’50s Telecaster built from a Fender-offered kit
• Mutantum lime green metalflake Strat w/Seymour Duncan Little ’59 pickups
• Mutantum solidbody “manouche” Strat w/classical neck
• Saul Koll custom 8-string
• Rick Turner Renaissance Baritone
• 1966 Epiphone Howard Roberts
• 1965 Harmony Bobkat
• 1984/’96 Heer-Henderson Doubleneck
• 1956 Gibson CF-100 acoustic guitar
• 1968 Hagstrom H8 8-string bass
• Mutantum Norma fretless electric
• Godin Multiac Steel Duet
• 2001 Dell’Arte Grande Bouche
• 1958 Fender Stringmaster 8-string console steel guitar
• 1936 Rickenbacker B6 lap steel
• 1950s Framus Nevada Mandolinetto
• Mutantum Electric Mandocello
• Arches H-Line
• Triple-Course Bass Pantar
Amps
• 1966 Fender black-panel Princeton Reverb
• 1980 Fender 75 (Per Sharp: “Cut down to a head and modded by Matt Wells into a Dumble-ish monster! For recording, it plugs into a 1x10 cab with a Jensen speaker or a Hartke Transporter 2x10 cab
• 1970 Fender Bronco
• 1960 Fender tweed Champ modded by Matt Wells
Effects and Electronics
• Vintage EHX 16-Second Delay w/foot controller
• Eventide H3000
• Eventide PitchFactor
• Lexicon PCM42
• ZVEX Fuzz Factory
• Summit DCL-200 Compressor Limiter
• SSL SiX desktop
• Prescription Electronics Experience
• Zoom Ultra Fuzz
• Korg MS-20 analog synthesizer
• Korg Volca Modular synthesizer
• Make Noise 0-Coast synthesizer
• Moog Moogerfooger Ring Modulator
• Moog Moogerfooger Low-Pass Filter
• Softscience Optical Compressor (for DI recording, custom made by Kevin Hilbiber)
Strings
• Ernie Ball Regular Slinky (.010–.046) or Power Slinky (.011–.048), for conventional guitar.
The least exciting piece of your rig can impact your tone in a big way. Here’s what you need to know.
Hello, and welcome back to Mod Garage. This month, we will have a closer look at an often overlooked part of our guitar signal chain: the guitar cable. We’ll work out what really counts and how your cable’s tonal imprint differs from your guitar’s tone-control function.
Today, the choice of guitar cables is better than it’s ever been, and you can choose between countless options regarding color, stability, plug style, length, diameter, bending strength, shielding, etc. A lot of companies offer high-quality cables in any imaginable configuration, and there are also cables promising special advantages for specific instruments or music styles, from rock to blues to jazz.
Appearance, stability, longevity, bending stiffness, and plug configuration are matters of personal preference, and every guitarist has their own philosophy here, which I think is a great thing. While one player likes standard black soft cables with two straight plugs, their buddy prefers red cables that are stiff as hell with two angled plugs, and another friend swears by see-through coiled cables with golden plugs.
“We often want to come as close as possible to sounding like our personal heroes, but we fail because we’re using the wrong cable for a passive guitar.”
Regarding reliability, all these parameters are important. Who wants a guitar cable making problems every time you are on stage or in the studio? There are also technical parameters like resistance, capacitance, transfer resistance on the plugs, and more. Without making it too technical, we can summarize that, sound-wise, the only important technical parameter for a passive guitar circuit is the capacitance of the cable. Sadly, this information is often missing in the manufacturer’s description of a guitar cable, and there’s another thing we have to keep in mind: Most manufacturers try to offer cables with the smallest possible capacitance so the guitar can be heard “unaltered” and with a “pure” tone. While these are honourable intentions, they are self-defeating when it comes to making a guitar sound right.
Let’s take a trip back to the past and see what cables players used. Until the early 1980s, no one really cared about guitar cables—players simply used whatever was available. In the ’60s and ’70s, you could see a lot of ultra-long coiled cables on stage with players like Clapton, Hendrix, May, Townshend, Santana, and Knopfler, to name just a few. They used whatever was available, plugged in, and played without thinking about it. Ritchie Blackmore, for example, was famous for notoriously using incredibly long cables on stage so he could walk around. Joe Walsh and many other famous players did the same. Many of us have these players’ trademark sounds in our heads, and we often want to come as close as possible to sounding like our personal heroes, but we fail because we’re using the wrong cable for a passive guitar. So what are we talking about, technically?
It’s important not to look at the guitar cable, with its electrical parameters, as a stand-alone device. The guitar cable has to be seen as part of the passive signal chain together with the pickups, the resistance of the guitar’s pots (usually 250k or 500k), the capacitance of the wires inside the guitar, and, of course, the input impedance of the amp, which is usually 1M. The interaction of all these in a passive system results in the resonance frequency of your pickups. If you change one of the parameters, you are also changing the resonance frequency.
”Ritchie Blackmore, for example, was famous for notoriously using incredibly long cables on stage so he could walk around.“
You all know the basic formulation: The longer the cable, the warmer the tone, with “warmer” meaning less high-end frequencies. While this is true, in a few moments you will see that this is only half the truth. Modern guitar cables are sporting a capacitance of around 100 pF each meter, which is very low and allows for long cable runs without killing all the top end. Some ultra-low-capacitance cables even measure down to only 60 pF each meter or less.
Now let’s have a look at guitar cables of the past. Here, capacitances of up to 400 pF or more each meter were the standard, especially on the famous coiled cables. See the difference? No wonder it’s hard to nail an old-school sound from the past, or that sometimes guitars sound too trebly (especially Telecasters), with our modern guitar cables. This logic only applies to our standard passive guitar circuits, like those in our Strats, Teles, Les Pauls, SGs, and most other iconic guitar models. Active guitars are a completely different ballpark. With a guitar cable, you can fine-tune your tone, and tame a shrill-sounding guitar.
“No problem,” some will say. “I simply use my passive tone control to compensate, and that’s it. Come on, capacitance is capacitance!” While this logic seems solid, in reality this reaction produces a different tone. “Why is this?” you will ask. Thankfully, it’s simple to explain. You might be familiar with the typical diagrams showing a coordinate system with "Gain/dB" on the Y-axis and "Frequency/kHz" on the X-axis. Additional cable capacitance will shift the resonance frequency on the X-axis, with possible differences of more than one octave depending on the cable. A cable with a higher capacitance will shift the resonance frequency towards the left and vice versa.
Diagram courtesy Professor Manfred Zollner (https://www.gitarrenphysik.de)
Now let’s see what happens if you use your standard passive tone control. If you close the tone control, the resonance frequency will be shifted downwards mostly on the Y-axis, losing the resonance peak, which means the high frequencies are gone. This is a completely different effect compared to the additional cable capacitance.
Diagram courtesy Professor Manfred Zollner (https://www.gitarrenphysik.de)
To summarize, we can say that with different cable capacitances, you can mimic a lot of different pickups by simply shifting the resonance frequency on the X-axis. This is something our passive tone control can’t do, and that’s exactly the difference you will have to keep in mind.
So, let’s see what can be done and where you can add additional cable capacitance to your system to simulate longer guitar cables.
1. On the cable itself
2. Inside the guitar
3. Externally
In next month’s follow-up to this column, we will talk about different capacitances and how you can add them to your signal chain with some easy-to-moderate modding, so stay tuned!
Until then ... keep on modding!
Do you overuse vibrato? Could you survive without it?
Vibrato is a powerful tool, but it should be used intentionally. Different players have different styles—B.B. King’s shake, Clapton’s subtle touch—but the key is control. Tom Butwin suggests a few exercises to build awareness, tone, and touch.
The goal? Find a balance—don’t overdo it, but don’t avoid it completely. Try it out and see how it changes your playing!
By refining an already amazing homage to low-wattage 1960s Fenders, Carr flirts with perfection—and adds a Hiwatt-flavored twist.
Killer low end for a low-wattage amp. Mid and presence controls extend range beyond Princeton or tweed tone templates. Hiwatt-styled voice expands vocabulary. Built like heirloom furniture.
Two-hundred-eighty-two bucks per watt.
$3,390
Carr Skylark Special
carramps.com
Steve Carr could probably build fantastic Fender amp clones while cooking up a crème brulee. But the beauty of Carr Amps is that they are never simply a copy of something else. Carr has a knack for taking Fender tone and circuit design elements—and, to a lesser extent, highlights from the Vox and Marshall playbook—and reimagining them as something new.
Those that playedCarr’s dazzling original Skylark know it didn’t go begging for much in the way of improvement. But Carr tends to tinker to very constructive ends. In the case of the Skylark Special, the headline news is the addition of the Hiwatt-inspired tone section from theCarr Bel-Ray, a switch from a solid-state rectifier to an EZ81 tube rectifier that enhances the amp’s sense of touch and dynamics, and an even deeper reverb.
Spanning Space Ages
With high-profile siblings like the Deluxe, Bassman, Tremolux, and Twin, Fender’s original Harvard is, comparatively, a footnote in Fender’s wide-panel tweed era (the inclusion of Steve Cropper’s Harvard in the Smithsonian notwithstanding). But the Harvard is somewhat distinctive among tweed Fenders for using fixed bias, which, given its power, makes it a bridge that links in both circuit and sound to the Princeton Reverb. The Skylark Special’s similar capacity for straddling tweed and black-panel touch and tone is fundamental to its magic.
Like the Harvard and the Princeton, the Skylark Special’s engine runs on two 6V6 power tubes and a single 12AX7 in the preamp section. A 12AX7 and 12AT7 drive the reverb and the reverb recovery section, respectively, and a second 12AT7 is assigned to the phase inverter. (The little EZ81 between the two 6V6 power tubes is dedicated to the rectifier). Apart from the power tubes and the 12AX7 in the preamp, however, the Skylark Special deviates from Harvard and Princeton reverb templates in many important ways. Instead of a 10" Jensen or Oxford, it uses a 50-watt 12" Celestion A-Type ceramic speaker, and it includes midrange and presence controls that a Harvard or Princeton do not. It also features a boost switch that manages to lend body and brawn without obliterating the core tone. There is also, as is Carr’s style, a very useful attenuator that spans zero to 1.2 watts. Alas, there is no tremolo.
“I’d wager the Skylark Special will be around every bit as long as a tweed Harvard when most of your printed-circuit amps have shoved off for the recycler.”
It goes without saying, perhaps, that the North Carolina-built Skylark Special is made to standards of craft that befit its $3K-plus price. Even still, Carr upgraded nine of the coupling capacitors to U.S.-made Jupiters. They also managed to shave six pounds from the Baltic birch cabinet weight—reducing total weight to 35 pounds and, in Steve Carr’s estimation, improving resonance. Say what you will about the high price, but I’d wager the Skylark Special will be around every bit as long as a tweed Harvard when most of your printed-circuit amps have shoved off for the recycler.
Sweet Soulful Bird
Fundamentally, the Skylark Special launches from a Fender space. But this is a very refined Fender space. The bass is rich, deep, and massive in ways you won’t encounter in many 12-watt combos, and the warm contours at the tone’s edges lend ballast and attitude to both clean tones and the ultra-smooth distorted ones at the volume’s higher reaches. All of these sounds dovetail with the clear top end you imagine when you close your eyes and picture quintessential black-panel Fender-ness. The presence and midrange controls, along with the 50-watt speaker, lend a lot in terms of scalpel-sharp tone shaping—providing a dimension beyond classical Fender-ness—especially when you bump the midrange and turn up your guitar volume.
The tube rectifier, meanwhile, shifts the Skylark Special’s touch dynamics from the super-immediate reactivity of a solid-state rectifier to a softer, more-compressed, more sunset-hued kind of tactile sensitivity. But don’t let that lead you to worry about the amp’s more explosive capabilities. There is more than enough high-midrange and treble to make the Skylark Special go bang.
Anglo and Attenuated Alter Egos
The Hiwatt-inspired setting is still dynamic, but it’s a little tighter than the Fullerton-voiced setting. There’s air and mass enough for power jangling or weighty leads. The differences in the Bel-Ray’s tube selection (EL84 power tubes as well as an EF86 in the preamp) means the Skylark Special’s version of the Hiwatt-style voice is—like the amp in general—warm and round in the low-mid zone and softer around the edges, where the Bel-Ray version has more high-end ceiling and less mellow glow in the bass. It definitely gives the Skylark Special a transatlantic reach that enhances its vocabulary and utility.
Attenuated settings are not just practical for suiting the amps to circumstances and size of space you’re in; they also offer an extra range of colors. The maximum 1.2 watt attenuated setting still churns up thick, filthy overdrive that rings with harmonics.
The Skylark Special’s richness and variation means you’ll spend a lot of time with guitar and amp alone. Anything more often feels like an intrusion. But the Skylark Special is a friend to effects. Strength in the low-end and speaker means it humors the gnarliest fuzzes with grace. And with as many shades of clean-to-just-dirty tones as there are here, the personalities of gain devices and other effects shine.
The Verdict
Skylark Special. It’s fun to say—in a hep-cat kind of way. The name is très cool, but the amp itself sounds fabulous, creating a sort of dream union of the Princeton’s and Harvard’s low-volume character, a black-panel Deluxe’s more stage-suited loudness and mass, and a zingier, more focused English cousin. It can be sweet, subdued, surfy, rowdy, and massive. And it works happily with pedals—most notably with fuzzes that can make lesser low-mid-wattage amps cough up hairballs. The price tag smarts. But this is a 12-watt combo that goes, sonically speaking, where few such amps will, and represents a first-class specimen of design and craft.