
Slash grips one of the three highly mythologized Les Paul replicas that he has used over the years (right)—which may or may not have been the inspiration for his new signature Gibson Appetite Les Paul (left).
Will we ever know who built the Les Paul Slash played on “Sweet Child O’ Mine”?
Mythology is an essential part of human life. We may not spend much time discussing winged-footed Greek gods or tales of dragonslayers while we tune our guitars and haul amps into clubs. But myths and legends are still all around us. From the triumph of the Jedi in the Star Wars films to the latest heroic act on the sports field, myths inform our culture and sense of belonging. And even within a musical context, certain stories take root, grow, expand, mutate, and are shared for generations until they reach legendary proportions.
The story of Slash's instrument arsenal during the heady days of recording Guns N' Roses Appetite for Destruction is just such a tale, retold by our era's version of epic poets and debated as hotly as any controversial archaeological discovery.
In March 2010, Gibson Guitars released their Slash Appetite Les Paul model. The company's press materials proclaimed this was "the axe that launched a thousand riffs." In videos hosted on the Gibson website, Slash holds the new model next to his personal guitar and says, "This is the original right here," and "It's basically set up just like my original was." The camera slowly pans over the instrument and zooms in on some of the details.
"All things considered, with the original one, it just happened to have a certain sort of unique tone unto itself," Slash says in the video. "With the new one, we basically tried to capture that. The new Appetite for Destruction guitar is about as close as anybody could get to the original."
According to luthier Roman Rist, the middle Les Paul replica here is Slash's first from luthier
Kris Derrig—the one Rist says Slash used on the tail end of Appetite. The guitar on the right
was built by Peter "Max" Baranet. The instrument on the left is purportedly Slash's second
Derrig model.
Photo courtesy of Roman Rist
The guitar was hailed as an impressive instrument. When Premier Guitar reviewed it, we said, "It's a well-built, high-quality Les Paul with flawless playability and gorgeous looks." The review carried a 4.5 rating out of a possible 5.
That review also pointed out something that Slash fans and internet forum users had known all along: The Slash Appetite Les Paul is actually a replica of a replica— because the instrument Slash rocked on the iconic album wasn't actually a Gibson. The "original," as Slash calls it in the videos, was made by California luthier Kris Derrig.
Slash and Gibson did not respond to interview requests for this article. However, we should note that the general attitude among savvy guitarists is that Gibson's Appetite Les Paul isn't some attempt to hoodwink an unsuspecting public. Most observers feel that if a customer is a big enough fan to pay the list price of nearly five grand for the instrument, they'd also know the true story. And Gibson's new Appetite guitar does include some modern updates that theoretically improve its practicality for a mass audience. And in many ways the Gibson initiative to sell such an instrument addressed a burgeoning demand among consumers—and addressed it well.
"I don't fault them at all," says guitar builder Roman Rist, who figures into the earlier days of this tale. "Slash does have a relationship with Gibson. Slash is a bona fide rock star, and, for them, why not make a Slash model? I'm sure Slash had plenty of input in the design to be able to sign off and be happy with the guitar. I don't see anything wrong with it."
But while Gibson rehashed the iconic instrument for today's musician, the larger legend is much more complex. Indeed, there are many who allege Slash actually wielded three Les Pauls during the time in question. Those three guitars are shrouded in questions, contrasting memories, and conflicting reports. Examining the legend of these instruments is like trying to unravel the threads of an ancient Norse epic or documenting the numerous trysts and offspring of the Greek god, Zeus. Each answer opens a new question, each thread ends at the beginning of a new one.
The Epic of the Hunterburst
Mythologist, lecturer, and writer Joseph Campbell focused on the role mythology plays in the human experience, while examining myths and legends handed down through the centuries. There are certain constants that appear in myths, regardless of the culture that spawned them. There is a hero who must leave his comfort zone and embark on some sort of journey. Along the way, that hero encounters supernatural help in the form of "amulets," quoted in the Campbell passage above. The form of these implements changes throughout the myths. It could be King Arthur's Excalibur, or Perseus's gifts from the gods, or Luke Skywalker's lightsaber.
Or, in a musical context, the mythological structure could feature an impoverished, curly-haired hero encountering a transformative instrument.
In the early '80s, during Guns N' Roses' formative period, Slash was living hand-to-mouth. Struggling to eat and pay for a drug habit, he certainly lacked the wherewithal to accumulate fine vintage instruments.
"Those guys couldn't put two nickels together to buy a pack of Marlboros back then," says former Guns manager Vicky Hamilton. At the time, Hamilton even allowed the nascent rockers to move into her apartment— which surely diminished the likelihood of recovering her security deposit.
Due to such constricting finances, Slash played a variety of guitars during this period, as documented in Marc Canter's photography book Reckless Road: Guns N' Roses and the Making of Appetite for Destruction, and he was certainly not tied to any particular brand.
Throughout that text are photos of Slash with a red B.C. Rich Warlock, a B.C. Rich Mockingbird with visible wood grain, and—when he was very young—even a black Fender Stratocaster. In Slash's own best-selling memoir, Slash, written with co-author Anthony Bozza, the guitarist relates a story of asking Kiss' Paul Stanley for help procuring instruments from B.C. Rich.
It was in that wilderness of instrument experimentation that Slash came across the first amulet that would help him face the challenging climb up the ladder of rock 'n' roll stardom.
"I was playing a new guitar," Slash writes in his memoir. "It was a Les Paul that had belonged to '70s blues guitarist Steve Hunter. I'd traded my B.C. Rich for it at Howie Hubberman's place, Guitars R Us."
Obtaining this instrument was a major cause for celebration at the Guns base camp.
"I have one really good memory of Slash getting his first sunburst Gibson, and he brought it into our living room when we were all living together," says Hamilton. "He opened the case with pride and everyone gave him the 'ooh' and 'aah.'"
That guitar is frequently referred to as the "Hunterburst," after its former owner who was famous for performances with Alice Cooper, Peter Gabriel, Lou Reed, and even Aerosmith. Perhaps most notably, Hunter played on the Cooper tunes "Billion Dollar Babies" and "Welcome to My Nightmare," as well as Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill" single and Lou Reed's epic Rock n Roll Animal.
The problem is that Hunter doesn't know if his guitar ended up in Slash's hands. Though the influential guitarist politely declined to speak on the record for this interview, he did state he does not know what happened to his instrument after he sold it.
Guitar gurus Hubberman and Rist both handled Hunter's Les Paul and are certain the guitar went to Slash. The instrument came into the shop with original '50s parts, including PAF pickups that were ultimately removed to sell on the vintage market while the guitar was retrofitted with more modern, reasonably priced hardware.
"I put the Seymour Duncans in," Rist says. "I worked on setting it up and getting it to play good. It stayed there for maybe a couple of days. So maybe a couple of days later, Howie calls up Slash saying, 'I got the guitar for you.' Slash comes in and they work out some kind of deal."
Hubberman, who was also an early investor in the band, recalls that he sold the instrument to the young gunner for $2600, payable over time. "You know, they didn't have any money back then," Hubberman says. "I would just give things to them off the cuff and they'd catch up to me later down the line. Those guys always took care of me. Izzy [rhythm guitarist Izzy Stradlin] was probably the brokest of the bunch, but he would pay it off. Same thing with Slash. I mean, it took a couple of years for Slash to pay off that guitar, but he paid it off."
Humorously, Hubberman adds, "I think when he paid it off, he no longer owned it."
Legend and innuendo has it that Slash pawned the so-called Hunterburst to pay for his drug habit. While that can't be proven, it's certainly possible. In his memoir, the guitarist writes of times when "I sold my equipment for cash to score more smack."
Peter “Max" Baranet—the Man Behind the Hunterburst?
Rist argues that the Hunterburst, although not played on Appetite for Destruction, deserves a significant place in rock 'n' roll history.
"The Hunterburst carried a lot of weight because it was owned by a rock star who, in my opinion, had contributed greatly to the music scene," Rist says. "Steve Hunter is the real deal. So here's the guitar that went from the old guard to the new guard. That's the one that got him [Slash] hooked. The seed for his Les Paul addiction, becoming the Les Paul icon that he is, is the Hunterburst."
But, as was mentioned previously, the Hunterburst wasn't a Gibson. It was a replica. Steve Hunter says it was built by luthier Peter "Max" Baranet, who friends and clients typically refer to simply as Max. Howie Hubberman says the instrument was built by Baranet. So does Roman Rist.
Baranet himself? He's not so sure. In written statements and telephone interviews, Baranet won't confirm or deny that the Hunterburst is one of his instruments.
"Yeah, I don't remember it," he says. "There's people that remember it being in my shop and stuff. But there was a lot of stuff going on in those days, you know. A lot of guitar building and a lot of people running through."
The volume of Baranet's work was indeed staggering. "One year that I was at Image Guitars, I had assembled or custom made over 150 guitars," he recalls. "Singlehandedly. So, you know what I'm saying— [it's] one single guitar. I'm not going to remember everything."
This Les Paul replica commonly referred as "Hunterburst" (because it had been previously owned by Alice Cooper guitarist Steve Hunter) was reportedly Slash's first brush with a quality copy of Gibson's iconic guitar in and around the Appetite for Destruction period.
Photo by Mark Olson
Serial numbers and markings for replica instruments of the day were not standardized and provide little help in solving the mystery. Baranet says he sometimes used customers' birthdays, sometimes even Social Security numbers and other combinations of digits.
Despite Baranet's reluctance to claim the Hunterburst, his former colleague Rist is convinced Baranet built it.
"I worked with Max so long I know how he does things," Rist states. "There are certain little trademark things I can use to spot a Max from a mile away. There are other trademarks with the way he does his routing. If I open it up, I can go, 'Yep, this is a Max.'"
. . . Enter Kris Derrig Version
Whatever the lineage of the Hunterburst, at some point it passed out of Slash's hands. In general, the band had a quick excuse any time equipment went missing. "I think the story was that someone stole it," Hamilton laughs. "Which was a common story with those guys back in those days. Things just sort of disappeared and I didn't even know that they were up on my roof doing drugs and shit."
When Guns N' Roses entered the studio in late 1986 to record Appetite for Destruction, Slash was apparently playing an assortment of guitars that did not— according to some—include a Les Paul, whether replica or Gibson.
"Now, I was not there in the studio, but there are too many accounts from Slash and other people that a lot was recorded with a black Jackson and a red B.C. Rich," Rist says. He claims that most of the record was recorded with these instruments and that the second legendary Les Paul replica did not enter the picture "until Slash did all of the solo stuff."
Other sources claim a Les Paul replica was more prominent on the album. In Stephen Davis' 2008 book Watch You Bleed: The Saga of Guns N' Roses, he writes, "Slash cut most of the tracks with a Les Paul copy plugged into a Marshall amplifier."
But in a July 2010 interview with AOL's Noisecreep website, Slash himself seems to confirm, at least in part, the assertion that the LP didn't show up until late in the game, as well as rumors about the disposition of his earlier instruments.
"I was really broke and I hocked all my decent guitars before we went into the studio to make Appetite for Destruction," Slash tells the website staff. "All I had left were a B.C. Rich Warlock and two Jackson guitars, a Firebird, and a prototype archtop Strat-style guitar. I brought them all into the recording studio for the Appetite session and they all sounded horrible. I was like, 'F---, what do I do? I have to do the overdubs and I have no instrument.' So Guns N' Roses manager, Alan Niven, showed up the night before I went in to do the Appetite overdubs and brought me this Les Paul. I went in the next day and it was the most amazing sounding guitar."
That instrument, the second Les Paul replica in Slash's epic journey, is widely reported to be the work of the late Kris Derrig. Luthier Baranet references this guitar when he says, "And then the Derrig model came in, you know, at the last minute for the overdubs and solos."
At first glance, that seems to conflict with Slash's own statement in his book that, "It was made by the late Jim Foot[e], who owned MusicWorks in Redondo Beach."
However, guitar-building contemporaries explain that Derrig shared space with Foote (who is still alive), which probably accounts for Slash's statement in the book, especially since band manager Alan Niven brought the instrument to the guitarist. The rocker did not go to the shop himself.
"Kris had a workshop in the back of Jim Foote's store," Rist says. "Most guitar builders, they just want to be left alone and do their thing, and one thing you do not want to do a lot is deal with customers. So if you can have a buffer man out front, you can do your own thing a bit easier."
The Derrig model is presumed to be Slash's main guitar to this day. In the Gibson promotional materials, when Slash says, "the original," he's referencing the Derrig. Since that instrument went directly to the guitarist, the builders interviewed for this article don't have any firsthand knowledge of the guitar.
Of Holy Trinities and Eternal Myths
In this photo taken in 2001, Luthier Peter "Max" Baranet (left) stands with Slash and the Les Paul
replica he built for the gunslinger.
Photo courtesy of Peter Baranet
Allegedly, Slash obtained a third replica shortly after recording Appetite for Destruction. According to some, he obtained a second Derrig model. Others claim he got another Baranet instrument.
"Through Howie, Max was made aware that Slash needed a Les Paul and he needed one in a hurry," Rist says. "And it was mainly, from everything I know, for the purpose of another touring backup." Although it cannot be confirmed, Slash is presumed to still own that third replica.
Ultimately, some of the arguments surrounding these three replicas may never be solved. Short of getting Slash, the luthiers, and the guitars all in the same room and subjecting them to CSI-level scrutiny, some definitive answers simply cannot be had. In the absence of such hard data, the topic will continue to be passionately debated. One internet message board features an epic 531-post argument that spans three years— and people continue to post on the subject to this day!
While some observers may feel this level of fanatical discourse is a waste of time, it's what true believers do. They staunchly defend their interpretation of the myth or legend. At this very moment, some academic in a college classroom is surely arguing over the true historical figure that served as the inspiration for King Arthur. The Slash Les Paul replica debate simply features more volume.
Although Slash might see it differently, he undoubtedly fulfills Campbell's role of the hero who reinterprets a tradition and makes it valid for a current era.
During the early '80s, pointy guitars with whammy bars and slick paint jobs were required equipment for any aspiring rocker. Slash's bluesy, more straight-ahead rock 'n' roll riffs and leads on Appetite for Destruction swung the spotlight back on Les Pauls, which had been pushed to the side since the '70s heyday of Led Zeppelin and other LP-slinging bands.
"Back in the '80s, the Burst market was dead," says Baranet. "I used to go to the guitar shows in Texas every six months. I've got pictures from '88 of rows and rows of Bursts priced around seven to ten grand, and nobody was buying. When Guns N' Roses broke, Slash was playing a Les Paul in those three videos in constant rotation on MTV." That exposure attracted international collectors who scooped up Les Pauls, making them scarcer domestically. Accordingly, prices escalated.
"Slash playing Les Pauls was what kickstarted it," Baranet continues. "It's kind of funny, because he was playing replicas at the time, yet he kicked off the real Burst market, as well as the reissue and historic market that followed later."
While the truth of Slash's Les Paul arsenal may never be known, the fact is that guitarists and music lovers will always revere these iconic instruments. And they will always be fascinated by the fine details of the axes.
"To put it in an almost philosophical sense, it puts them closer to god," Rist says. "Especially if you take a look at Slash: He was a kid with an undying belief that he would make it, and now he's turned into a huge star. So you have all these people who wished they could get into that kind of position. They dream of it, but they'll never get there. Sometimes the closest people can get to that place is just talking about it."
Yes, Rist's assertion is a tough one to argue with. Talk of this hero who found iconic implements to complete a quest—and create a legend—truly is bound to continue from this generation and into subsequent generations as long as guitarists dream of ascending from musical mortality and entering the pantheon of guitar gods.
The Reality of Replicas
Undoubtedly, major guitar manufacturers like Gibson, Fender, and Ibanez view any instrument produced by an unofficial source to be counterfeit. And legally that's certainly true. But the handmade replica culture is not the same thing as some unsuspecting musician getting ripped off. Instead, all parties involved (except the major companies) agree that this can be an honorable transaction among consenting adults—one that involves high-quality instruments.
"Keep in mind that a guitar builder is very similar to an artist," says Roman Rist. "For an artist to pull off a convincing Picasso means he has arrived. It is not about passing off a fake. Rather, it's a way of saying 'Hey, this is my business card. If I can do this, I can do just about anything.'"
Some replica builders who did not want to be identified in this story even have relationships with the companies they're copying. They might do custom work for those manufacturers or help out in a pinch. Replicas are frequently of such stellar quality that they command high prices on the vintage market to this day.
"The last nice Max-made Les Paul that I know of changed hands for $45,000," says Howie Hubberman. Baranet himself won't confirm this, but when offered a range of $35,000 to $50,000, he says, "They've resold much higher than that."
Ironically, some replica builders are so respected that other people copy their work.
"There are more forgeries of my stuff than my replicas of the corporate stuff," Baranet laughs.
Other Legendary Guitars Shrouded in Mystery
Slash's Appetite for Destruction Les Pauls are not the only instruments open to speculation, conjecture, and controversy. The beat-to-hell, red-and-white-striped "Frankenstrat" that Eddie Van Halen made famous is a mutt of various components. Depending on who you believe, the body is a Warmoth, Fender, or Charvel. Kramer stepped in and made similar instruments for the guitar slinger in the early '80s, the most famous being the 5150 guitar with a hockey-stick-style headstock. Many fans confuse the Frankenstrat with the Kramer 5150. The high-end EVH-branded replicas of the Frankenstrat (right)—which are made by Fender and sold under the Frankenstein model name—further complicate the discussion.
George Lynch's skull-and-bones guitar is another oddity. Nicknamed "Mom," the highly carved instrument played by the shredder in such Dokken videos as "Dream Warriors" carried a misleading nameplate. The guitar was actually built by J. Frog. However, when he got the instrument Lynch had recently started a relationship with ESP Guitars, so he slapped an ESP sticker on the headstock before using it in the band's videos.
[Updated 11/10/21]
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Billy Corgan shining with his Reverend Z One.
The Smashing Pumpkins frontman balances a busy creative life working as a wrestling producer, café/tea company owner, and a collaborator on his forward-thinking, far-reaching line of signature guitars. Decades into his career, Corgan continues to evolve his songcraft and guitar sound for the modern era on the band’s latest, Aghori Mhori Mei.
“Form follows function,” explains Billy Corgan when asked about the evolution of his songwriting. These three words seem to serve as his creative dictum. “Early Pumpkins was more about playing in clubs and effecting a response from the live audience, because that’s where we could get attention.
When the Smashing Pumpkins formed in 1988, they were ripping in rock clubs with psychedelic-inspired sets that drew on ’60s-rock influences like Blue Cheer, Jimi Hendrix, and Led Zeppelin. But by 1992, after the breakout success of the previous year’s swirling alt-rock masterpiece, Gish, “Suddenly, we’re on a major label,” recalls Corgan. “Pearl Jam sold a gazillion records. Nirvana sold a gazillion records. Alice in Chains is selling a gazillion records. And somebody puts a finger up to my temple and says, ‘You better figure out how to write pop songs or you’re going to go back to working at a record store.’
“So, how do I translate this kind of hazy psychedelic vision into something that sounds like pop-rock radio? I’d better figure this out, and fast.” On 1993’s Siamese Dream, Corgan had obviously gone far beyond simply figuring out how to fit his vision into a radio-ready format; he’d pushed alternative rock to new heights, masterfully crafting hooks fit for the band’s unique, massive guitar-driven sound.
More than three decades later, Corgan hasn’t stopped evolving his artistry to fit the times. On the firm foundation of his extremely well-developed, instantly recognizable musical voice, he’s made his career one of the most interesting in rock music, branching out into unpredictable trajectories. In 2017, he launched a new career as a professional wrestling producer when he purchased the National Wrestling Alliance, the source of the limited TV series Billy Corgan’s Adventures in Carnyland.The Smashing Pumpkins - "Edin"
And he’s applied that knack for spectacle—a de facto pre-req for anyone in the pro wrestling biz—to the band’s social media presence. In January 2024, when guitarist Jeff Schroeder split with the Smashing Pumpkins, they turned to the internet for an open call. Not only did the band eventually find new-hire Kiki Wong, but they effectively got every guitarist on the internet dreaming about joining the Pumpkins.
Corgan has also found a creative outlet as a guitar conceptualist. His four signature Reverends—the Billy Corgan Signature, Terz, Z-One, and Drop Z—were created in collaboration with Joe Naylor, the company’s visionary builder. Taken together, these models go well beyond standard signature artist instruments protocols. Not content to just design his own dream guitar, Corgan is equally concerned with contributing to the guitar community. The Billy Corgan Signature and Z-One models are forward-thinking electric guitars well-outfitted with hip, futuristic aesthetics and custom pickups; the Terz and Drop Z break new ground in guitar design. The Terz is a 21 1/2"-scale model meant to be tuned one and a half steps up—G to G—and the Drop Z model, at 26 1/2" scale, is intended for D standard or lower tunings. In the case of these alt-tuned guitars, the instruments are specifically voiced for their tunings, with custom pickups.
“In that quiet solitude of just you and the guitar, this communication can happen that sort of expresses something about yourself that is surprising.”
With all this action—plus signature Yamaha acoustics and his Highland Park, Illinois, café, Madame Zuzu’s, which he owns with his wife, Chloé Mendel—Corgan must be dialing into a deep, super-focused state when working on music, because he’s been prolific. In 2023, the Pumpkins released the epic ATUM: A Rock Opera in Three Acts, the third part of the trilogy that began with the Pumpkins’ smash-hit Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadnessin 1995, followed by 2000’s Machina/The Machines of God. In 2024, the band released Aghori Mhori Mei. Pitched as a stripped-down guitar record, and exempt from the former’s grandiosity, the songs are often riff-centric guitar jams, full of dark, in-your-face tones. But that pitch might belie the album’s rich compositional complexity and intense emotional breadth. Corgan’s writing on Aghori exemplifies all the nuance and finesse of his broader work, as do the dynamic, thoughtful guitar arrangements and hard-hitting performances.
With so much going on, how does Corgan keep his artistic vision focused and in step with the times? How does he find time to tap into the creative essence that has made his music so special? What drives his process? The only way to find out is from Corgan himself.
The Smashing Pumpkins’ Aghori Mhori Mei was pitched as a more stripped-down guitar record, but don’t let that description, fitting as it may be in comparison with their recent work, belie its majesty.
The premise of Aghori was to be more of a stripped-down guitar record. How did you approach this album from a compositional perspective?
Corgan: The idea was to return to the early language of the band and see if it had a modern application. If you were making a movie, it would be akin to: We’re going to shoot this on VHS cameras and edit in an old analog bay and see if you can make something that a modern audience would actually enjoy and appreciate.
The way most rock records are made these days is “in the box,” which is Pro Tools or whatever people use. You can hear that the digital technology is very important to the way modern rock music, whether it’s metal or alternative, is made. It’s become the fifth band member—you know what I’m saying? They’re able to do things and effect changes and musically innovate in a way that you wouldn’t if you were just on a floor with the band playing in a circle, like we used to. So, for us, we could continue down this digital path, and I’m not that interested in gridding out my guitars.
When you go listen to a Pumpkins record, that’s live playing. That’s not all chopped up—99% of what you hear is literally from our hands and mouths—we’ll still fly in a chorus here and there. If you’re at a particular crossroads, do you continue to move forward and with technology as your ally? Or do you kind of go back and see if that old way still has something magical about it? That becomes the sort of the existential debate of the record, both internally and publicly, which is: Is there a there, there?
But to clarify, this isn’t an analog recording.
Corgan: We record to Pro Tools. It’s using the technology of Pro Tools to make your records that we don’t do. I’m not trying to make a point. I’m saying using the technologies that are present to write your music or using it to do things that you can’t humanly do—that we don’t do.
Listen to your standard metal record. Everything is gridded to fuck: All the amps are in the box, all the drums are in the box, there’s not a missed note, everything’s tuned to fuck. You know what I mean? That’s modern metal, and I like it. It’s not like I turn up my nose at the thing, but that’s a way of making music for many people in 2024. We decided to try and go back and make a record the old-fashioned way, not to make some sort of analog point.
“There’s a certain loneliness in the way I play because I didn’t have anybody else to play guitar with.”
You write mostly on acoustic and piano. Where do the guitar arrangements come in?
Corgan: The fundamental process, going back to the beginning, is to create the basic track; the vocal then becomes the next most important thing, and then the icing on the cake is the guitar work over the top of that, basically to support and supplement the vocal and create more melodic interaction.
I got a lot of that from Queen and Boston and some Beatles—the idea that the guitar takes on a lead voice of its own that’s distinctive and almost becomes another lead singer in the band.
That stuff doesn’t show up literally until the last day working on the song. It’ll come off wrong, but we don’t spend a ton of time on it. And I don’t know what that means other than it seems to be like everything is done, and then you go, “Okay, time for the guitar work.” You’ll spend three hours, six hours just going through and trying stuff. Then it sort of just appears, and you go, “Oh, that sounds cool,” and you move on. It benefits from being fresh or feeling kind of like an emotional reaction.
I remember being in a car circa 1975 or ’76 and “Killer Queen” by Queen was on the radio. You’re listening to a song, the song sounds cool, and there’s flange vocals, and I’m 10 years old, in the backseat. All of a sudden, that lead break comes in; it’s just fucking loud. It has that feeling of somebody stepping forward into a spotlight. It’s not a show-off thing. It’s the way it makes you feel. It’s like a lighter type of moment. We’ve always chased that feeling.
Billy Corgan's Gear
Corgan with his signature Yamaha LJ16BC in 2022.
Photo by Mike White
Guitars
- E standard: Billy Corgan Signature Reverend Z-One Black
- E backup: Billy Corgan Signature Reverend - Satin Purple Burst
- Eb standard: Billy Corgan Signature Reverend Z-One - Silver Freeze
- Eb backup: Billy Corgan Signature Reverend Z-One - Orchard Pink
- Eb standard: ’70s Gibson ES-335 walnut
- C# standard: Billy Corgan Signature Reverend Drop Z - Pearl White
- Prototype Gibson Firebird
- Billy Corgan Custom Signature Yamaha LJ16BC Black with Silver Star
- Billy Corgan Custom Signature Yamaha White with Black Star
Amps
- Ampete 444 Amplifier & Cabinet Switching System
- Korg DT-1 Rack Tuner
- Carstens Cathedral
- Orange Rockerverb MkIII
- Carstens Grace Billy Corgan Signature Head
- Laney Supergroup LA100SM
- Laney LA412 4x12 Black Country Custom
Pedals
- RJM Mastermind GT/22 MIDI Controller
- Lehle D.Loop
- Warm Audio Warmdrive
- MXR Phase 90
- Catalinbread Zero Point Tape Flanger
- Behringer Octave Divider
- Strymon Brigadier dBucket Delay
- EarthQuaker Devices Time Shadows II
- Custom Audio Electronics MC-403 power supply
Strings
- Ernie Ball Regular Slinky (.010–.046)
- Ernie Ball Power Slinky (.011–.048)
- Ernie Ball Not Even Slinky (.012–.052)
- Ernie Ball Earthwood Medium Light (.012–.054)
Guitar starts out for so many of us as this really personal thing that we spend all our time doing, and then as life gets more complicated, you just have less time. What is your relationship with the guitar like in 2024? Do you have a day-to-day relationship with guitar playing?
Corgan: I do not. I don’t really pick up the guitar much unless I’m working.
When you do pick up the guitar, is it with intent? Do the ideas come inspired by the guitar, inspired by something you play? Or are they up in your head, and then you’re grabbing a guitar to realize it?
Corgan: If I pick up a guitar, I’m looking to play something that surprises me. It’s whatever comes out. And sometimes you hit the wrong chord and go, “Oh, that’s interesting.” Or you find a new inversion or something that you never thought of before. You try to play a different scale run than you’ve played 10,000 times, always landing on the same note. It’s just looking for something just a little bit new. I find oftentimes, in that quiet solitude of just you and the guitar, this communication can happen that sort of expresses something about yourself that is surprising—an emotional feeling or a way of approach.
“You could say to me, ‘Hey, play me some Siamese-type thing that you would’ve done in ’92,’ and in five minutes, I could write you something that would sound like a song that would’ve been a Siamese song in ’92.”
The style of my guitar playing came out of taking care of my disabled brother when I was a teenager, so I was stuck inside a lot. To paint a simple visual, imagine being stuck inside on a summer’s day and watching people play outside through the window as you’re playing the guitar. That was my life for much of my teenage years, because I was in this position where I had to look after somebody who was not so much homebound, but it wasn’t like the type of child at his stage of development that you could take him in the backyard and let him run around. You kind of had to look after him. It often became easier to stick him in front of a television or let him take a nap while you’re practicing.
There’s a certain loneliness in the way I play because I didn’t have anybody else to play guitar with. I developed a style that had a kind of call-and-response aspect to it in the open strings and the drone playing, because it was a way to effect a larger conversation without somebody else in the room.
Then, when it was James [Iha] and I in the early days of the band, James would basically do different versions of what I was playing. That created an even bigger conversation that seemed to create almost like a third guitarist. You can hear that in the whistling harmonics in the background. That’s just two guitars playing, but you create a ghost effect. I’ve done a lot of guitar work in the studio where people would be visiting me, and they look at the speakers, “What’s that sound?” And I’m like, “That’s just two guitars.” They don’t believe me. I literally have to solo the two guitars and just show them. That’s the harmonic effect.
I still have that inner relationship with my playing, where I could just sit down and play and find something that sounds like a bit of a conversation.
The Reverend Billy Corgan Signature in the hands of the man himself alongside drummer Jimmy Chamberlin and guitarist James Iha.
Photo by Ken Settle
When you’re writing, picking up a guitar, looking for those things, like you said, are you still after the same feeling you had initially or has the feeling changed?
Corgan: I think it’s more trying to find something that seems to signify whatever’s happening at the moment. It’s a truthfulness. You could say to me, “Hey, play me some Siamese-type thing that you would’ve done in ’92,” and in five minutes, I could write you something that would sound like a song that would’ve been a Siamese song in ’92. I can dial in any era of the band or my writing at will, because they’re all based on methodologies and certain emotional templates. So, I’m trying to do that for today. What is the 2024 version of that that makes me feel something—anything at all?
There’s this other creative side to your work, which is your signature gear. You have four Reverend guitars, and they’re all very different from each other. You’ve created them with Joe Naylor. Can you tell me about that collaboration?
Corgan: Somehow, Joe is able to go back and listen to what I’m referencing, and then translate that into something that’s physically tangible and consistent.
I don’t think a gimmicky guitar serves anybody. My signature guitars need to be useful to anybody else doing their music, not just my kind of music. And I’m very proud of that. I think that’s what makes a great guitar—it has application to whoever picks it up. And a lot of credit to Reverend to be willing to take these chances that I’ve sort of set them off chasing.
The Reverend Billy Corgan Drop Z is specially voiced in feel and sound for D standard and lower tunings.
They’re all bold guitars, but especially the Terz and the Drop Z, which are built specifically for alternate tunings. What were you looking for when you came up with the idea of those instruments?
Corgan: The thing with the Terz, which is G to G as opposed to E to E—a step and a half higher—was in listening to guitarists like Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead and other guitar players of that generation, I noticed that the function of the guitar for many alternative guitar players was becoming more atmospheric and less elemental. I thought maybe they would like to have a higher tonal range to work in. Because, ultimately, in 2024 logic, you want to get the guitar away from the vocal. If you think of the classic Telecaster sound, well, if you’re playing in the key of G on a Telecaster, that sits exactly where the vocal is. It’s like the worst possible place for a guitar in the 21st century. But if you can increase the harmonic range of the guitar, it does sort of sit, elementally, a little higher.
I don’t think people have figured that out yet about that guitar. But I have a funny feeling that at some point somebody will, much like when Korn took the Steve Vai guitar and took it in a completely different direction and made a whole new genre of music with it. I think the Terz opens a player up to a different tonal range.
“I don’t think a gimmicky guitar serves anybody. My signature guitars need to be useful to anybody else doing their music, not just my kind of music.”
A lot of these modern alternative guitar players, they don’t play super complicated stuff. Whether they were inspired by Jonny from Radiohead or the guy from Coldplay, it’s more like a tweedle-y guitar, like twilight, vibey.... You look at their pedalboards; it’s a lot of reverbs and bucket delays and stuff like that. I get it.
On the Drop—on making Aghori, I found myself thinking a lot about Mick Mars’s guitar sound and where Mick’s guitar sat in Mötley Crüe. Early Mötley Crüe was basically a guitar tuned down a step. Something about the D range—you could do it on a normal guitar, but it gets a little sloppy with the tuning and certainly the intonation. So, I talked to Reverend about making a D-to-D guitar that doesn’t feel like a baritone guitar, that plays and feels very much like an E-to-E guitar, but gives you range. For a modern guitar player who wants to make music that ends up on the radio, the specificities of where that guitar needs to sit tonally and how it would be mixed is what I was thinking of.
So, these are instruments for the modern player who wants to make music that can reach people vis-à-vis what is the media these days—streaming or whatever. If you want to take an old guitar and tune it down to F and all that … I did all that crazy stuff, too. I wouldn’t discourage anybody from doing it. But these are specific instruments with a very specific purpose, primarily for recording.
On “Edin” [from Aghori Mhori Mei], well, that’s that guitar. I think in that song, it’s dropped, so the low string is a C. But you can hear how that guitar sits so forward in the track. That’s a credit to Joe making that guitar exactly what I wanted, and the pickups really doing their job with how it sits in the track.Corgan has an early memory of hearing Brian May’s lead break on “Killer Queen”: “It has that feeling of somebody stepping forward into a spotlight. It’s not a show-off thing. It’s the way it makes you feel. It’s like a lighter type of moment. We’ve always chased that feeling.”
I want to come back to how that affects your playing. You have these instruments that are now specifically voiced to your vision. When they get in your hands and you’re working on something, how do you exploit the sonics of those guitars? Maybe you wrote a song on acoustic, but now you have this instrument that you’ve helped ideate, and you can do stuff that your other guitars can’t. Where does that come in the creative process?
Corgan: I don’t think I have a romantic answer. For me, it’s more about recording accuracy or clarity. If you compare, let’s call it the “Mellon Collie ’95” guitar sound, where we were mostly a half-step down; it’s clear, but it’s very sludgy—a lot of midrange and not a lot of stuff above, say, 17k, because I was using those Lace Sensor pickups. Modern recording; everybody wants the guitar as far forward as you can get it.
These days, I’m mostly using these Carstens amps, which is a Chicago amp-maker, Brian Carstens. I used one amp that he made for me, the Grace, which he does sell, which is kind of a modern take on the Eddie Van Halen brown sound—a ton of gain, but clear. And then he has another amp called Empire, which is more for a metal player. I use that as well. And in some cases, I stack both amps on top of each other by reamping. He has another amp, called Cathedral, which is like a cross between a Fender Twin and a Hiwatt. Again, very clear.
“Modern recording; everybody wants the guitar as far forward as you can get it.”
The best way I can explain it, and this is my poor language-ing, but if I was to take a vintage Marshall plexi and a Les Paul, like a classic amazing guitar sound, and record the riff for “Edin,” and then I was to take my Reverend Drop Z run through a Carstens amp, and you listen to the two tracks, the modern stuff I’m using, the guitar is like six more feet forward in the track; the vintage stuff sounds kind of back there. You can hear it—a little gauzy, a little dark, and the modern stuff is right in your grill. It’s not harsh; it’s not overly midrange-y. It just sounds really good and present.
So that’s the key. Because I play so distinctively that I kind of sound like me whatever you put me through, my focus is more tonal and how it sits in the stereo field.
Are pedals just pragmatic means to achieve a tone? Or is there exploration involved there?
Corgan: Since Siamese Dream, where we famously used the op-amp Big Muff and EHX Micro Synth, and some MXR stuff, the main sound of the band is just crank through something. Going back to something my father told me many, many moons ago: guitar, chord, amp is the key. I worked in the studio with Tony Iommi. Those hands, a chord, an amp—and when he plays, God’s moving mountains. We get super granular when I’m in the studio; I might play a chord that’s no more than seven-feet long, anything so I can be as close to the amp as possible, so there’s the least amount of chord from the guitar to the amp.
It’s all about driving the amp and moving that air and moving those electrons in the tubes. That’s just the key for me. If there’s pedal work on any Pumpkins albums in the last 25 years, it’s for solos and little dinky things on the top. The main guitar sound is always pure power. We want as much pure power as possible.
YouTube It
The Smashing Pumpkins kick out “Sighommi” from Aghori Mhori Meilive on Kimmel with new-hire Kiki Wong joining Corgan and James Iha in the guitar section.
Two horns? It must be a Bison!
Our columnist links a few memories together to lead us to another obscure guitar model—one he remembers from his childhood and came to acquire as an adult.
Do you have any “click and stick” movies that you love? Like when you are channel surfing and see a movie that you’ve watched a lot, and then just watch it again? Lately, for me, it’s been the 2015 movie The Revenant. It’s a truly brutal tale of survival set in 1820s frontier America. My gosh, that movie just draws me in every time. There’s one scene where the main character goes flying off a cliff while riding a horse! He just sort of falls/rolls through a pine tree and lands in the snow … and he still survives! It’s crazy!
It makes me think about an old childhood friend who lived up the street from me. Jerry and his parents lived in an old house on their grandparents’ large plot of land. On one part of the land there was an old orchard filled with all types of fruit trees and pines, and I remember how we would climb to the top of the pines and just roll ourselves down the side, Revenant style! If you fell the right way, the branches would kind of gently let you down to the next, but if you hit it wrong and got in between the branches, you’d be wrecked. It’s like we enjoyed getting hurt, and, of course, when you’re young, you can snap right back. Ah, the days when pain really didn’t hurt. Now I wake up with injuries, for real.
“The action was way high and the fret ends were sharp. It was basically a painful affair.”
So why am I talking about my click-and-stick movie and stupid childhood escapades? Well, let’s get back to memories of my old friend Jerry. First, the house he lived in was so old that it had real wooden siding, but it hadn’t been painted in forever so the exterior took on a worn, faded, haunted house vibe. Second, his carpet was so tattered that it was being held together with duct tape. Lastly, I remember his dad had a cool, old electric guitar in the living room. His dad would let me play it sometimes, and I remember that it actually hurt to play! The action was way high and the fret ends were sharp. It was basically a painful affair. Not falling-out-of-a-tree painful, but as bad as it comes with guitars. It had the label “Conrad,” and young Frank didn’t realize that he’d be looking for that guitar again one day. I mean, it did have four pickups and lots of knobs and switches!
Made at the old Japanese Matsumoko factory in the ’60s, this Conrad Bison 1233 has four pickups and a 27" scale.
Years later, I would discover that his was a Conrad Bison guitar. The model came in a few different configurations, but the four-pickup design was designated as the 1233. Primarily featuring a lovely sunburst, these Bisons were made at the amazing old Matsumoku factory in Japan and were imported by the David Wexler Company that was based in Chicago. Matsumoku always had a good supply of aged wood, and many of the guitars made there are resonant and built well. The Bisons first appeared around 1966 and had a rather good run into the early ’70s.
Simple volume/tone knobs are paired with preset solo/rhythm switches that power alnico magnets. There’s an on/off switch for each pickup, and the sound really covers all the bases. Thumpy lows and crisp highs are all there. And, the pickups handle fuzz and distortion with ease. The Bisons also came in one- and two-pickup configurations with a normal scale, but the four-pickup ones have a longer, 27" scale, which is common for Matsumoku-made electrics.
So there it is: pain, survival, American frontier, Bison, haunted houses. It all sticks together like a duct-taped carpet. Click and stick, baby!
A 1000-watt speaker cabinet crafted for musicians who demand power and precision. Sunn Amps intends to reinvent the standard 4x12 configuration with the introduction of this new cabinet.
The Sunn Amps DoomBox is built to accommodate both guitar and bass, offering an impressive 1000-watt handling capacity—making it the first commercially available 4x12 cabinet with such high power handling. With four specially designed 12” drivers rated at 250 watts each, this cabinet provides clean, unrestrained sound levels that can maintain power integrity across all frequencies, ideal for high-volume performances.
Inspired and developed using feedback from artists and bands who rely on the depth of lower tunings and high volume genres, the DoomBox was engineered to meet the unique demands of professional musicians looking for a robust, high-efficiency cab that can translate the raw power of their sound without compromise.
Premium Craftsmanship and Materials
The Doom Box cabinet is crafted from solid finger-jointed Baltic Birch plywood, ensuring both durability and tonal clarity. Each cabinet is constructed by hand in the U.S.A. using original 1930s machinery, the DoomBox reflects Sunn’s historic commitment to quality, contrasting with some of the mass-produced, MDF-based cabinets on the market today. The cabinet’s aluminum basket, ferrite magnet, and custom Sunn weave Tolex with a custom grill design complete its professional-grade build.
Technical Specifications:
• Power Handling: 1000W
• Inputs: 1 x ¼”
• Impedance: 8 Ohm
• Drivers: 4 x Sunn 12S250
• Construction: Marine Grade Baltic Birch
• Dimensions: 29.25” X 30” X 14”
• Weight: 107 lbs
• Price: $2399.00
With clear low-end punch, even sound response, and ample air movement, the Doom Box ensures that every note reaches the audience with clarity and power. This cabinet is a game-changer for musicians who need high-performance, road-ready equipment that enhances their unique sound.
Does the guitar’s design encourage sonic exploration more than sight reading?
A popular song between 1910 and 1920 would usually sell millions of copies of sheet music annually. The world population was roughly 25 percent of what it is today, so imagine those sales would be four or five times larger in an alternate-reality 2024. My father is 88, but even with his generation, friends and family would routinely gather around a piano and play and sing their way through a stack of songbooks. (This still happens at my dad’s house every time I’m there.)
Back in their day, recordings of music were a way to promote sheet music. Labels released recordings only after sheet-music sales slowed down on a particular song. That means that until recently, a large section of society not only knew how to read music well, but they did it often—not as often as we stare at our phones, but it was a primary part of home entertainment. By today’s standards, written music feels like a dead language. Music is probably the most common language on Earth, yet I bet it has the highest illiteracy rate.