It's been more than a quarter century since the Klon Centaur overdrive debuted. So why are we still talking about it?
The Klon became a cult item soon after it appeared, celebrated for its transparent overdrive. “Transparent" isn't exactly a scientific term, but it makes sense when comparing the Klon to the popular overdrives that preceded it—notably the Ibanez Tube Screamer, which to this day provides the template for a large percentage of overdrive pedals.
A Screamer trims highs and adds a prominent midrange bump at around 750 Hz. A Klon's core sound is less highly colored, with clearer highs and greater clean headroom. A Screamer's compression smoothes out note attack, while a Klon delivers faster, crisper transients. Screamer tone never cleans up completely, even with the gain knob at minimum. But a Klon with its gain knob fully counter-clockwise delivers a pure clean boost. (Though it might not sound clean, depending on how hard the Klon's output is slamming your amp's input.) To many ears, the Klon was a sonic upgrade over previous overdrive pedals. When the guitar magazine I worked for in the '90s covered the initial version, I bought the review model. I used that pedal (serial number 309) for reference while exploring our five klones.
Secrets of the Klon Kult
How does the Klon work its magic? Like most overdrives released since the 1970s, it owes its tones to an overdriven op amp, with extra color and compression from a pair of clipping diodes. Klon fanciers tend to focus on those two parts: the TL072, a low-noise, JFET-based op amp, and two NOS germanium 1N34A diodes.
Generally, germanium diode distortion is slightly softer and "spongier" relative to brighter, crisper-sounding silicon diodes and LEDs. But you only hear the diode's character at the circuit's highest gain settings—most of the distortion comes from the op amp. Meanwhile, the TL072 is a common and inexpensive part. But even if it weren't, any number of op amps would yield similar results.
My tests suggest that the Klon's character comes from its ingenious circuit topology, and not from "magic" parts. There's a charge pump that generates 18 volts from a standard 9-volt power supply, and you hear the difference—tones are sparklier and more dynamic, with more clean headroom. The gain architecture is even more innovative. Incoming audio is split into three paths, one of which passes through the distorting op amp and diodes. Another path sends undistorted lows to the output, anchoring the bottom end. Meanwhile, the third path is a relatively hi-fi clean boost. The pedal's gain knob simultaneously controls the levels of both the distorted and clean boost paths. Turning the pedal's gain knob clockwise emphasizes the distortion while lowering the clean signal, and vice versa.
Other factors include an especially nice-sounding input buffer that prevents guitar pickups from loading down the circuit, a handsomely voiced treble-cut tone control, and memorable cosmetics. Original Klons have expensive, custom-cast enclosures with that striking bronze-and-oxblood color scheme. And, of course, there's the sword-wielding centaur icon, usually referred to as "the horsie." (Horsie Klons have the highest resale value.)
Klon vs. Klone
Image 1 — Original Klons obscured their circuitry with black epoxy. That trick never works! The Klon schematic is readily available online.
Original Klons tried to maintain circuit secrecy with a coat of black epoxy (see Image 1).
It didn't work. The schematic is widely available. Copyright law doesn't protect circuits, so the schematic is free for the cloning. On the other hand, copyright law says you can't mimic a product's "trade dress"—the visual appearance that identifies it to consumers. But that hasn't prevented klones from paying "tribute" to the original's gold/bronze enclosure, dark red knobs, and centaur sketch.
The original Klon employed traditional through-hole parts. Our contender klones have modern surface-mount components, which facilitate automated production and keep list prices low. Two of them employ NOS through-hole germanium diodes, while the other three substitute modern silicon ones. All are scaled-down relative to the original, with enclosure sizes ranging from a standard B-sized box down to tiny AAs. There's also a dramatic price spread: from $69 to $199. All pedals run on standard 9V power supplies.
Testing Procedures
To keep things as objective as possible, I recorded the demo clips straight into my DAW with no processing, and then re-amped them through each of the klones. That way, you hear the identical performance through each pedal. Aside from switching klones, nothing in the signal chain changes. For the audio-only clips (see the page at the end of this article) I used a Fender Telecaster Deluxe with Lollar Regal wide-range humbuckers, a clean-toned Carr Telstar amp, and a Royer R-121 ribbon mic, recorded into Logic Pro via a Universal Audio Apollo interface. For the video I used a "parts" S-style guitar with Lollar Firebird pickups and Fender-style Carr Skylark.
In the audio-only clips you'll hear four audio comparisons arranged into four playlists. First, there's a 1:23-long passage with all pedal knobs set to noon. Next comes a gain test: You hear each pedal, first with the gain control at minimum (that is, in full clean-boost mode) and then at maximum. The third comparison displays the full range of the tone controls, first at minimum, then at maximum, and then back to the noon position. The final test compares the output controls. First, you hear the passage with a low output setting, with the knob around nine o'clock, and then at maximum. The low output setting is too quiet to overdrive the amp, isolating the distortion color produced by the pedal, as opposed to how that sound interacts with an overdriven amp.
Image 2 — A spectral comparison of a passage played through the original Klon and through the EHX Soul Food reveals that their EQ curves are nearly identical. Other comparisons yielded similar results.
In each case, you hear the original Klon first, followed by the five modern pedals in alphabetical order, from Electro-Harmonix Soul Food through Way Huge Conspiracy Theory.
Spoiler alert: These pedals sounds remarkably similar, and that's not just a subjective impression. Consider Image 2, which compares the spectrum (EQ curve) of a passage recorded through the original Klon and through the EHX Soul Food.
The orange portion depicts the Klon, the blue portion the EHX. Their EQ profiles are superimposed in the main window. The orange and blue lines track so closely that it's sometimes hard to discern two separate measurements. Comparisons between the Klon and the other contenders yield similar results. In other words, prepare to listen for very subtle distinctions.
Diodes to Die For?
Finally, a word about those germanium diodes: Judging by the online forums, this is the crucial feature separating the Klon from the klones. Even Klon founder Bill Finnegan cites particular germanium diodes (from his stash of NOS 1N34As) as the most important ingredient in the Klon casserole.
I think the audio suggests the opposite.
Klon vs. Klones by premierguitar
RatingsPros:Great price. Excellent overdrive sounds. Adapter included. Cons: Keen ears might miss low-end weight. Street: $86 Electro-Harmonix Soul Food ehx.com
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Electro-Harmonix Soul Food
Priced at a modest $86, EHX's Soul Food is the second-least-expensive pedal among the five competitors. It lives in a standard B-sized enclosure large enough for a battery compartment. You can also use standard 9V power supplies. (Soul Food is the only pedal in this roundup that comes with an AC adapter.)
The Soul Food circuit board employs mostly small, surface-mount components, with the exception of several capacitors and the clipping diodes. The latter are silicon in lieu of the Klon's germanium. Still, as Image 2 above shows, the Soul Food's tone profile matches that of the original Klon almost exactly. At heavy settings, I think I hear slightly more compression and gain from the Soul Food, but I'm not always certain. We're quite close to Klon here.
Hear for yourself: As mentioned, most of the Klon's overdrive comes from the TL072 op amp. The clipping diodes are only a factor at high-gain settings. For the clearest comparison of diode color, listen to the second halves of the clips in the Gain Control playlist, where the gain knobs are at maximum. Even here, the two tones are quite similar. The Soul Food is a little brighter at the very top end, and the Klon has a wee bit more weight under 100 Hz. But these differences are far from dramatic.
Soul Food has a secret trick: a small internal switch to select between true bypass mode (the default) and buffer bypass mode. Again, the differences are extremely subtle, unless you're connecting a retro-style fuzz downstream from Soul Food. (A germanium Fuzz Face, for example, is likely to sound too thin and bright when placed after a buffered effect.)
RatingsPros:Exceedingly accurate Klon sound. Germanium diodes. Extraordinary build quality. Cons: Relatively costly. Street: $199 J. Rockett Archer rockettpedals.com
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J. Rockett Archer
The Archer, a klone from J. Rockett, stands out from the herd even before you plug it in. While all the pedals covered here sound convincingly Klon-like, the Archer clearly aspires to the original's build quality, too. Measuring 4" x 2.25" x 1.25", it is slightly smaller than a standard B-sized box. The top-mounted jacks will suit overpopulated pedalboards, but there's still enough room for a 9V battery. The enclosure isn't quite as deluxe as the original Klon's sculptural, custom-cast shell, but it has a similar heft. The Archer is this roundup's most reassuringly solid stompbox. And at $199, it's the most expensive.
The Archer's circuit board features a roughly 50/50 mix of through-hole and surface-mount parts. The op amp is a TL072, while the clipping diodes are NOS germanium. Clearly, the Archer aspires to be as Klon-like as possible, as if that weren't already clear from the round oxblood knobs and a weapon-wielding mascot with hooved hindquarters. Mission accomplished! While all five of these pedals get close to the Klon sound, Archer is one of the nearest dead-ringers. I wouldn't be able to differentiate the Klon and the Archer in a blind listening test.
RatingsPros:Absurdly low price. Dual buffer and gain modes. Good tones. Cons: Klon-like, but not quite as Klonic as some options. Inexpensively made. No battery compartment. Street: $69 NUX Effects Horseman nuxefx.com |
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NUX Horseman
Original “horsie" Klons currently fetch $3,000 on Ebay. For that price, you can buy 43 1/2 NUX Horseman pedals. Yup—this klone sells for a mere $69. It's the only contestant to be built in China. (All the others are made in the U.S.)
The Horseman's stable is a tiny AA-sized enclosure, which means there's no battery compartment. That makes it about 1/6 the size of the original Klon. It's a bit surreal to see that legendary circuit crammed into a device requiring only a sliver of pedalboard space. Unsurprisingly, given its low cost, the parts and build quality don't quite match those of the pricier options. But you can't argue with the Horseman's excellent tones.
The electronics layout is interesting, with two circuit boards facing in toward each other. Silicon Schottky diodes replace the original's germanium parts. Compared to the Klon, the Horseman's tones are marginally less sparkly and a bit boomier below 200 Hz. Transients are slightly less crisp. But even if this pedal's sound is the easiest to differentiate from the vintage Klon, it's still awfully close. I'd have no qualms gigging with this bargain-priced burner.
The Horseman can do a few extra stunts. Like the EHX Soul Food, it offers a choice of true or buffered bypass, depending on whether you hold the bypass switch down during startup. Again, the sonic differences are usually negligible, though the setting can affect the tones of retro-style fuzzes placed after the Horseman in the signal chain. You can also press the footswitch for a few seconds to select between “gold" and “silver" modes. According to NUX, gold mimics the gain character of the original bronze Klon, while silver evokes later silver-colored models, which are a bit gainier. Yes, high-gain silver mode settings are slightly more distorted than the same settings in gold mode, though the distinctions remain subtle. A small secondary LED indicates the status.
RatingsPros:Highly accurate Klon tones. Excellent build. Ultra-compact. Cons: No battery compartment. Street: $149 Wampler Tumnus wamplerpedals.com
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Wampler Tumnus
Brian Wampler's pint-sized klone replaces the horsie with a goatie. The pedal is named for Mr. Tumnus, the friendly faun from C.S. Lewis's Narnia books. It occupies a tiny AA box like the NUX Horseman, but it's even a bit smaller. (Obviously, there's no battery compartment.) Tumnus's build quality is superior, as you'd expect for a pedal costing twice as much. It's also attractive, with its enclosure painted a deep gold color and bedecked with subtle figuration.
Tumnus nails the original Klon tone with great accuracy. This is interesting, given that it employs surface-mount silicon diodes in lieu of germanium. Clearly, you could argue that it's a further refutation of claims that rare diodes are essential for Klon-like tones. Again, I refer you to the second part of the relevant clips in the Gain Control playlist, where diode color is most evident. Even here, the two sounds are almost indistinguishable.
Wampler also loaned us their newer Tumnus Deluxe pedal. We don't have space for a standalone review, but we can summarize what it brings to the party: The control layout on the relatively large 125B-sized enclosure retains the usual treble-cut tone control (which functions just as it does on the original) but adds active bass and midrange controls. There's also a buffer bypass switch and a “hot" switch that boosts gain.
The Deluxe model can sound as Klon-like as the mini version, but it can also veer in different directions. The bass control can add thudding lows and low mids that you won't get from a straight klone. The midrange control also unlocks many new sounds. At extreme settings, this filter gets nasal and resonant, almost like a notched wah pedal. There's a demo clip in the Extras playlist called 1. Tumnus Deluxe (various settings), where I work the tone controls while the demo riff plays. On a Klon, it's hard to dial in a bad sound. The Tumnus Deluxe makes it easier—underscoring the balance and smart design behind the original control set. Of course, those “bad" sounds may be perfect in context and represent interesting possibilities. Notice how thrashy everything gets when I flick on the high gain switch at around 1:08. At $199, Tumnus Deluxe is perfect for a player who wants great straightforward Klon overdrive and many usable variants.
RatingsPros:Excellent overdrive sounds. Quality build. Germanium diodes. Cons: Ever-so-slight bump in low-mids might distract some original Klon purists. Street: $129 Way Huge Conspiracy Theory jimdunlop.com
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Way Huge Conspiracy Theory
Way Huge's Conspiracy Theory is yet another fine-sounding Klon klone. It uses modern surface-mount parts, except for a pair of NOS germanium diodes. The op amps are TL072s. Its folded-metal enclosure matches the scaled-down proportions of the J. Rockett Archer, but the material is light aluminum rather than heavy steel. (At $129, the Conspiracy Theory is $70 cheaper, too.) Red pointer knobs and a gold finish evoke the original Klon design. The scaled-down enclosure is still large enough to accommodate a battery.
The Conspiracy Theory's voice is ever so slightly warmer/darker than that of the original Klon, with just a hair more low-mid weight under 500 Hz or so. I still gave this pedal a maximum tone score, because the differences are extremely subtle, and some players will probably prefer the Conspiracy Theory's slightly warmer character—if they notice it at all.
The Verdict
All five of these effects get very close to the sound of a first-generation Klon Centaur. In other words, they sound terrific! Reviewing them taught me a lot about the original—most notably the fact that its character has little to do with specific clipping diodes, despite countless claims to the contrary. The J. Rockett Archer uses old-school germanium diodes, and it's nearly indistinguishable from the Klon. But then so is the Wampler Tumnus, which substitutes silicon surface mount diodes. As far as I'm concerned, the germanium clipping diode is a big, fat red herring.
The Electro-Harmonix Soul Food gets close to Klon despite using silicon clipping diodes. At $86, it's a steal. At high-gain settings it's ever so slightlybrighter than the original, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It even comes with an adapter.
J. Rockett's Archer, with its germanium clipping diodes, is the Klon's sonic twin. It's easily the most rugged of the klones, with a reassuring heft that evokes the original. But quality isn't cheap—at $199, the Archer is the most expensive option. If cost is no object, it's my No. 1 pick.
Nux Effects' Horseman sells for a remarkably low $69. Of the five pedals, it's the easiest to distinguish from the original Klon, but that's not saying much. It still gets quite close, and some players may even prefer its slightly rougher sound. Its AA-sized enclosure is a panacea for overpopulated pedalboards. This is the no-brainer bargain pick.
Wampler's $149 Tumnus is pretty and petite in its tiny AA enclosure. It rivals the Archer for most authentic Klon sound, even though it employs silicon diodes. The construction is lovely. We also took a quick peek at the $199 Tumnus Deluxe, which adds a high-gain mode and 3-band tone stack that yield many variations on the famous formula.
Way Huge's Conspiracy Theory also gets extremely close to the Klon sound. It sometimes sounds a wee bit warmer/darker, but some players may prefer this profile, assuming they ever notice it. It's the least expensive option to include germanium diodes.
Admittedly, it sounds terminally wimpy to conclude with, “Gosh, they all sound great." But it just happens to be true. (Well, they are clones!) I'd use any of these onstage or in the studio without hesitation. Your choice may be more about price and pedal size than any minor tonal discrepancies.
Oh, one last fun detail: After recording all the re-amped examples into a single Logic Pro session, I thought it might be fun to hear the Klon and the five klones simultaneously. That's the last item in the Extra playlist (All at Once!.mp3). I panned the six tracks in stereo, but there's no additional processing. I expected a bloody mess. But it sounds pretty much like a Klon—just like everything else here.
Other Affordable Klone Options
Chellee Ponyboy, $119 street, chellee.comJoyo Tauren, $54, joyo.com
Keeley Oxblood, $199 street, robertkeeley.com
MXR Sugar Drive, $120 street, jimdunlop.com
[Updated 9/10/21]
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Keith Urban’s first instrument was a ukulele at age 4. When he started learning guitar two years later, he complained that it made his fingers hurt. Eventually, he came around. As did the world.
He’s in the Songwriters Hall of Fame. He’s won 13 Country Music Association Awards, nine CMT video awards, eight ARIA (Australian Recording Industry Association) Awards, four American Music Awards, and racked up BMI Country Awards for 25 different singles.
He’s been a judge on American Idol and The Voice. In conjunction with Yamaha, he has his own brand of affordably priced Urban guitars and amps, and he has posted beginner guitar lessons on YouTube. His 2014 Academy of Country Music Award-winning video for “Highways Don’t Care” featured Tim McGraw and Keith’s former opening act, Taylor Swift. Add his marriage to fellow Aussie, the actress Nicole Kidman, and he’s seen enough red carpet to cover a football field.
Significantly, his four Grammys were all for Country Male Vocal Performance. A constant refrain among newcomers is, “and he’s a really good guitar player,” as if by surprise or an afterthought. Especially onstage, his chops are in full force. There are country elements, to be sure, but rock, blues, and pop influences like Mark Knopfler are front and center.
Unafraid to push the envelope, 2020’s The Speed of Now Part 1 mixed drum machines, processed vocals, and a duet with Pink with his “ganjo”—an instrument constructed of a 6-string guitar neck on a banjo body—and even a didgeridoo. It, too, shot to No. 1 on the Billboard Country chart and climbed to No. 7 on the pop chart.
His new release, High, is more down-to-earth, but is not without a few wrinkles. He employs an EBow on “Messed Up As Me” and, on “Wildfire,” makes use of a sequencer reminiscent of ZZ Top’s “Legs.” Background vocals in “Straight Lines” imitate a horn section, and this time out he duets on “Go Home W U” with rising country star Lainey Wilson. The video for “Heart Like a Hometown” is full of home movies and family photos of a young Urban dwarfed by even a 3/4-size Suzuki nylon-string.
Born Keith Urbahn (his surname’s original spelling) in New Zealand, his family moved to Queensland, Australia, when he was 2. He took up guitar at 6, two years after receiving his beloved ukulele. He released his self-titled debut album in 1991 for the Australian-only market, and moved to Nashville two years later. It wasn’t until ’97 that he put out a group effort, fronting the Ranch, and another self-titled album marked his American debut as a leader, in ’99. It eventually went platinum—a pattern that’s become almost routine.
The 57-year-old’s celebrity and wealth were hard-earned and certainly a far cry from his humble beginnings. “Australia is a very working-class country, certainly when I was growing up, and I definitely come from working-class parents,” he details. “My dad loved all the American country artists, like Johnny Cash, Haggard, Waylon. He didn’t play professionally, but before he got married he played drums in a band, and my grandfather and uncles all played instruments.
One of Urban’s biggest influences as a young guitar player was Mark Knopfler, but he was also mesmerized by lesser-known session musicians such as Albert Lee, Ian Bairnson, Reggie Young, and Ray Flacke. Here, he’s playing a 1950 Broadcaster once owned by Waylon Jennings that was a gift from Nicole Kidman, his wife.
“For me, it was a mix of that and Top 40 radio, which at the time was much more diverse than it is now. You would just hear way more genres, and Australia itself had its own, what they call Aussie pub rock—very blue-collar, hard-driving music for the testosterone-fueled teenager. Grimy, sweaty, kind of raw themes.”
A memorable event happened when he was 7. “My dad got tickets for the whole family to see Johnny Cash. He even bought us little Western shirts and bolo ties. It was amazing.”
But the ukulele he was gifted a few years earlier, at the age of 4, became a constant companion. “I think to some degree it was my version of the stuffed animal, something that was mine, and I felt safe with it. My dad said I would strum it in time to all the songs on the radio, and he told my mom, ‘He’s got rhythm. I wonder what a good age is for him to learn chords.’ My mom and dad ran a little corner store, and a lady named Sue McCarthy asked if she could put an ad in the window offering guitar lessons. They said, ‘If you teach our kid for free, we’ll put your ad in the window.’”
Yet, guitar didn’t come without problems. “With the guitar, my fingers hurt like hell,” he laughs, “and I started conveniently leaving the house whenever the guitar teacher would show up. Typical kid. I don’t wanna learn, I just wanna be able to do it. It didn’t feel like any fun. My dad called me in and went, ‘What the hell? The teacher comes here for lessons. What’s the problem?’ I said I didn’t want to do it anymore. He just said, ‘Okay, then don’t do it.’ Kind of reverse psychology, right? So I just stayed with it and persevered. Once I learned a few chords, it was the same feeling when any of us learn how to be moving on a bike with two wheels and nobody holding us up. That’s what those first chords felt like in my hands.”
Keith Urban's Gear
Urban has 13 Country Music Association Awards, nine CMT video awards, eight ARIA Awards, and four Grammys to his name—the last of which are all for Best Country Male Vocal Performance.
Guitars
For touring:
- Maton Diesel Special
- Maton EBG808TE Tommy Emmanuel Signature
- 1957 Gibson Les Paul Junior, TV yellow
- 1959 Gibson ES-345 (with Varitone turned into a master volume)
- Fender 40th Anniversary Tele, “Clarence”
- Two first-generation Fender Eric Clapton Stratocasters (One is black with DiMarzio Area ’67 pickups, standard tuning. The other is pewter gray, loaded with Fralin “real ’54” pickups, tuned down a half-step.)
- John Bolin Telecaster (has a Babicz bridge with a single humbucker and a single volume control. Standard tuning.)
- PRS Paul’s Guitar (with two of their narrowfield humbuckers. Standard tuning.)
- Yamaha Keith Urban Acoustic Guitar (with EMG ACS soundhole pickups)
- Deering “ganjo”
Amps
- Mid-’60s black-panel Fender Showman (modified by Chris Miller, with oversized transformers to power 6550 tubes; 130 watts)
- 100-watt Dumble Overdrive Special (built with reverb included)
- Two Pacific Woodworks 1x12 ported cabinets (Both are loaded with EV BlackLabel Zakk Wylde signature speakers and can handle 300 watts each.)
Effects
- Two Boss SD-1W Waza Craft Super Overdrives with different settings
- Mr. Black SuperMoon Chrome
- FXengineering RAF Mirage Compressor
- Ibanez TS9 with Tamura Mod
- Boss BD-2 Blues Driver
- J. Rockett Audio .45 Caliber Overdrive
- Pro Co RAT 2
- Radial Engineering JX44 (for guitar distribution)
- Fractal Audio Axe-Fx XL+ (for acoustic guitars)
- Two Fractal Audio Axe-Fx III (one for electric guitar, one for bass)
- Bricasti Design Model 7 Stereo Reverb Processor
- RJM Effect Gizmo (for pedal loops)
(Note: All delays, reverb, chorus, etc. is done post amp. The signal is captured with microphones first then processed by Axe-Fx and other gear.)
- Shure Axient Digital Wireless Microphone System
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario NYXL (.011–.049; electric)
- D’Addario EJ16 (.012–.053; acoustics)
- D’Addario EJ16, for ganjo (.012–.053; much thicker than a typical banjo strings)
- D’Addario 1.0 mm signature picks
He vividly remembers the first song he was able to play after “corny songs like ‘Mama’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread.’” He recalls, “There was a song I loved by the Stylistics, ‘You Make Me Feel Brand New.’ My guitar teacher brought in the sheet music, so not only did I have the words, but above them were the chords. I strummed the first chord, and went, [sings E to Am] ‘My love,’ and then minor, ‘I'll never find the words, my,’ back to the original chord, ‘love.’ Even now, I get covered in chills thinking what it felt like to sing and put that chord sequence together.”
After the nylon-string Suzuki, he got his first electric at 9. “It was an Ibanez copy of a Telecaster Custom—the classic dark walnut with the mother-of-pearl pickguard. My first Fender was a Stratocaster. I wanted one so badly. I’d just discovered Mark Knopfler, and I only wanted a red Strat, because that’s what Knopfler had. And he had a red Strat because of Hank Marvin. All roads lead to Hank!”
He clarifies, “Remember a short-lived run of guitar that Fender did around 1980–’81, simply called ‘the Strat’? I got talked into buying one of those, and the thing weighed a ton. Ridiculously heavy. But I was just smitten when it arrived. ‘Sultans of Swing’ was the first thing I played on it. ‘Oh my god! I sound a bit like Mark.’”
“Messed Up As Me” has some licks reminiscent of Knopfler. “I think he influenced a huge amount of my fingerpicking and melodic choices. I devoured those records more than any other guitar player. ‘Tunnel of Love,’ ‘Love over Gold,’ ‘Telegraph Road,’ the first Dire Straits album, and Communique. I was spellbound by Mark’s touch, tone, and melodic choice every time.”
Other influences are more obscure. “There were lots of session guitar players whose solos I was loving, but had no clue who they were,” he explains. “A good example was Ian Bairnson in the Scottish band Pilot and the Alan Parsons Project. It was only in the last handful of years that I stumbled upon him and did a deep dive, and realized he played the solo on ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush, ‘Eye in the Sky’ by Alan Parsons, ‘It’s Magic’ and ‘January’ by Pilot—all these songs that spoke to me growing up. I also feel like a lot of local-band guitar players are inspirations—they certainly were to me. They didn’t have a name, the band wasn’t famous, but when you’re 12 or 13, watching Barry Clough and guys in cover bands, it’s, ‘Man, I wish I could play like that.’”
On High, Urban keeps things song-oriented, playing short and economical solos.
In terms of country guitarists, he nods, “Again, a lot of session players whose names I didn’t know, like Reggie Young. The first names I think would be Albert Lee and Ray Flacke, whose chicken pickin’ stuff on the Ricky Skaggs records became a big influence. ‘How is he doing that?’”
Flacke played a role in a humorous juxtaposition. “I camped out to see Iron Maiden,” Urban recounts. “They’d just put out Number of the Beast, and I was a big fan. I was 15, so my hormones were raging. I’d been playing country since I was 6, 7, 8 years old. But this new heavy metal thing is totally speaking to me. So I joined a heavy metal band called Fractured Mirror, just as their guitar player. At the same time, I also discovered Ricky Skaggs and Highways and Heartaches. What is this chicken pickin’ thing? One night I was in the metal band, doing a Judas Priest song or Saxon. They threw me a solo, and through my red Strat, plugged into a Marshall stack that belonged to the lead singer, I shredded this high-distortion, chicken pickin’ solo. The lead singer looked at me like, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I got fired from the band.”
Although at 15 he “floated around different kinds of music and bands,” when he was 21 he saw John Mellencamp. “He’d just put out Lonesome Jubilee. I’d been in bands covering ‘Hurts So Good,' ‘Jack & Diane,’ and all the early shit. This record had fiddle and mandolin and acoustic guitars, wall of electrics, drums—the most amazing fusion of things. I saw that concert, and this epiphany happened so profoundly. I looked at the stage and thought, ‘Whoa! I get it. You take all your influences and make your own thing. That’s what John did. I’m not gonna think about genre; I’m gonna take all the things I love and find my way.’
“Of course, getting to Nashville with that recipe wasn’t going to fly in 1993,” he laughs. “Took me another seven-plus years to really start getting some traction in that town.”
Urban’s main amp today is a Dumble Overdrive Reverb, which used to belong to John Mayer. He also owns a bass amp that Alexander Dumble built for himself.
Photo by Jim Summaria
When it comes to “crossover” in country music, one thinks of Glen Campbell, Kenny Rogers, Garth Brooks, and Dolly Parton’s more commercial singles like “Two Doors Down.” Regarding the often polarizing subject and, indeed, what constitutes country music, it’s obvious that Urban has thought a lot—and probably been asked a lot—about the syndrome. The Speed of Now Part 1 blurs so many lines, it makes Shania Twain sound like Mother Maybelle Carter. Well, almost.
“I can’t speak for any other artists, but to me, it’s always organic,” he begins. “Anybody that’s ever seen me play live would notice that I cover a huge stylistic field of music, incorporating my influences, from country, Top 40, rock, pop, soft rock, bluegrass, real country. That’s how you get songs like ‘Kiss a Girl’—maybe more ’70s influence than anything else.”
“I think [Mark Knopfler] influenced a huge amount of my fingerpicking and melodic choices. I devoured those records more than any other guitar player.”
Citing ’50s producers Chet Atkins and Owen Bradley, who moved the genre from hillbilly to the more sophisticated countrypolitan, Keith argues, “In the history of country music, this is exactly the same as it has always been. Patsy Cline doing ‘Walking After Midnight’ or ‘Crazy’; it ain’t Bob Wills. It ain’t Hank Williams. It’s a new sound, drawing on pop elements. That’s the 1950s, and it has never changed. I’ve always seen country like a lung, that expands outwards because it embraces new sounds, new artists, new fusions, to find a bigger audience. Then it feels, ‘We’ve lost our way. Holy crap, I don’t even know who we are,’ and it shrinks back down again. Because a purist in the traditional sense comes along, whether it be Ricky Skaggs or Randy Travis. The only thing that I think has changed is there’s portals now for everything, which didn’t used to exist. There isn’t one central control area that would yell at everybody, ‘You’ve got to bring it back to the center.’ I don’t know that we have that center anymore.”
Stating his position regarding the current crop of talent, he reflects, “To someone who says, ‘That’s not country music,’ I always go, “‘It’s not your country music; it’s somebody else’s country music.’ I don’t believe anybody has a right to say something’s not anything. It’s been amazing watching this generation actually say, ‘Can we get back to a bit of purity? Can we get real guitars and real storytelling?’ So you’ve seen the explosion of Zach Bryan and Tyler Childers who are way purer than the previous generation of country music.”
Seen performing here in 2003, Urban is celebrated mostly for his songwriting, but is also an excellent guitarist.
Photo by Steve Trager/Frank White Photo Agency
As for the actual recording process, he notes, “This always shocks people, but ‘Chattahoochee’ by Alan Jackson is all drum machine. I write songs on acoustic guitar and drum machine, or drum machine and banjo. Of course, you go into the studio and replace that with a drummer. But my very first official single, in 1999, was ‘It’s a Love Thing,’ and it literally opens with a drum loop and an acoustic guitar riff. Then the drummer comes in. But the loop never goes away, and you hear it crystal clear. I haven’t changed much about that approach.”
On the road, Urban utilizes different electrics “almost always because of different pickups—single-coil, humbucker, P-90. And then one that’s tuned down a half-step for a few songs in half-keys. Tele, Strat, Les Paul, a couple of others for color. I’ve got a John Bolin guitar that I love—the feel of it. It’s a Tele design with just one PAF, one volume knob, no tone control. It’s very light, beautifully balanced—every string, every fret, all the way up the neck. It doesn’t have a lot of tonal character of its own, so it lets my fingers do the coloring. You can feel the fingerprints of Billy Gibbons on this guitar. It’s very Billy.”
“I looked at the stage and thought, ‘Whoa! I get it. You take all your influences and make your own thing. I’m gonna take all the things I love and find my way.’”
Addressing his role as the collector, “or acquirer,” as he says, some pieces have quite a history. “I haven’t gone out specifically thinking, ‘I’m missing this from the collection.’ I feel really lucky to have a couple of very special guitars. I got Waylon Jennings’ guitar in an auction. It was one he had all through the ’70s, wrapped in the leather and the whole thing. In the ’80s, he gave it to Reggie Young, who owned it for 25 years or so and eventually put it up for auction. My wife wanted to give it to me for my birthday. I was trying to bid on it, and she made sure that I couldn’t get registered! When it arrived, I discovered it’s a 1950 Broadcaster—which is insane. I had no idea. I just wanted it because I’m a massive Waylon fan, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that guitar disappearing overseas under somebody’s bed, when it should be played.
“I also have a 1951 Nocaster, which used to belong to Tom Keifer in Cinderella. It’s the best Telecaster I’ve ever played, hands down. It has the loudest, most ferocious pickup, and the wood is amazing.”
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Urban plays a Gibson SG here at the 2023 CMT Music Awards. Wait until the end to see him show off his shred abilities.
Other favorites include “a first-year Strat, ’54, that I love, and a ’58 goldtop. I also own a ’58 ’burst, but prefer the goldtop; it’s just a bit more spanky and lively. I feel abundantly blessed with the guitars I’ve been able to own and play. And I think every guitar should be played, literally. There’s no guitar that’s too precious to be played.”
Speaking of precious, there are also a few Dumble amps that elicit “oohs” and “aahs.” “Around 2008, John Mayer had a few of them, and he wanted to part with this particular Overdrive Special head. When he told me the price, I said, ‘That sounds ludicrous.’ He said, ‘How much is your most expensive guitar?’ It was three times the value of the amp. He said, ‘So that’s one guitar. What amp are you plugging all these expensive guitars into?’ I was like, ‘Sold. I guess when you look at it that way.’ It’s just glorious. It actually highlighted some limitations in some guitars I never noticed before.”
“It’s just glorious. It actually highlighted some limitations in some guitars I never noticed before.”
Keith also developed a relationship with the late Alexander Dumble. “We emailed back and forth, a lot of just life stuff and the beautifully eccentric stuff he was known for. His vocabulary was as interesting as his tubes and harmonic understanding. My one regret is that he invited me out to the ranch many times, and I was never able to go. Right now, my main amp is an Overdrive Reverb that also used to belong to John when he was doing the John Mayer Trio. I got it years later. And I have an Odyssey, which was Alexander’s personal bass amp that he built for himself. I sent all the details to him, and he said, ‘Yeah, that’s my amp.’”
The gearhead in Keith doesn’t even mind minutiae like picks and strings. “I’ve never held picks with the pointy bit hitting the string. I have custom picks that D’Addario makes for me. They have little grippy ridges like on Dunlops and Hercos, but I have that section just placed in one corner. I can use a little bit of it on the string, or I can flip it over. During the pandemic, I decided to go down a couple of string gauges. I was getting comfortable on .009s, and I thought, ‘Great. I’ve lightened up my playing.’ Then the very first gig, I was bending the crap out of them. So I went to .010s, except for a couple of guitars that are .011s.”
As with his best albums, High is song-oriented; thus, solos are short and economical. “Growing up, I listened to songs where the guitar was just in support of that song,” he reasons. “If the song needs a two-bar break, and then you want to hear the next vocal section, that’s what it needs. If it sounds like it needs a longer guitar section, then that’s what it needs. There’s even a track called ‘Love Is Hard’ that doesn’t have any solo. It’s the first thing I’ve ever recorded in my life where I literally don’t play one instrument. Eren Cannata co-wrote it [with Shane McAnally and Justin Tranter], and I really loved the demo with him playing all the instruments. I loved it so much I just went with his acoustic guitar. I’m that much in service of the song.”
Gibson originally launched the EB-6 model with the intention of serving consumers looking for a “tic-tac” bass sound.
The Gibson EB-6 was announced in 1959 and came into the world in 1960, not with a dual-horn body but with that of an elegant ES-335. They looked stately, with a thin, semi-hollow body, f-holes, and a sunburst finish. Our pick for this Vintage Vault column is one such first-year model, in about as original condition as you’re able to find today. “Why?” you may be asking. Well, read on....
When the EB-6 was introduced, the Bass VI was still a glimmer in Leo Fender’s eye. The real competition were the Danelectro 6-string basses that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere and were suddenly being used on lots of hit records by the likes of Elvis, Patsy Cline, and other household names. Danos like the UB-2 (introduced in ’56), the Longhorn 4623 (’58), and the Shorthorn 3612 (’58) were the earliest attempts any company made at a 6-string bass in this style: not quite a standard electric bass, not quite a guitar, nor, for that matter, quite like a baritone guitar.
The only change this vintage EB-6 features is a replacement set of Kluson tuners.
Photo by Ken Lapworth
Gibson, Fender, and others during this era would in fact call these basses “baritone guitars,” to add to our confusion today. But these vintage “baritones” were all tuned one octave below a standard guitar, with scale lengths around 30", while most modern baritones are tuned B-to-B or A-to-A and have scale lengths between 26" and 30".)
At the time, those Danelectros were instrumental to what was called the “tic-tac” bass sound of Nashville records produced by Chet Atkins, or the “click-bass” tones made out west by producer Lee Hazlewood. Gibson wanted something for this market, and the EB-6 was born.
“When the EB-6 was introduced, the Bass VI was still a glimmer in Leo Fender’s eye.”
The 30.5" scale 1960 EB-6 has a single humbucking pickup, a volume knob, a tone knob, and a small, push-button “Tone Selector Switch” that engages a treble circuit for an instant tic-tac sound. (Without engaging that switch, you get a bass-heavy tone so deep that cowboy chords will sound like a muddy mess.)
The EB-6, for better or for worse, did not unseat the Danelectros, and a November 1959 price list from Gibson hints at why: The EB-6 retailed for $340, compared to Dano price tags that ranged from $85 to $150. Only a few dozen EB-6 basses were shipped in 1960, and only 67 total are known to have been built before Gibson changed the shape to the SG style in 1962.
Most players who come across an EB-6 today think it was a response to the Fender Bass VI, but the former actually beat the latter to the market by a full year.
Photo by Ken Lapworth
It’s sad that so few were built. Sure, it was a high-end model made to achieve the novelty tic-tac sound of cheaper instruments, but in its full-voiced glory, the EB-6 has a huge potential of tones. It would sound great in our contemporary guitar era where more players are exploring baritone ranges, and where so many people got back into the Bass VI after seeing the Beatles play one in the 2021 documentary, Get Back.
It’s sadder, still, how many original-era EB-6s have been parted out in the decades since. Remember earlier when I wrote that our Vintage Vault pick was about as original as you could find? That’s because the model’s single humbucker is a PAF, its Kluson tuners are double-line, and its knobs are identical to those on Les Paul ’Bursts. So as people repaired broken ’Bursts, converted other LPs to ’Bursts, or otherwise sought to give other Gibsons a “Golden Era” sound and look ... they often stripped these forgotten EB-6 basses for parts.
This original EB-6 is up for sale now from Reverb seller Emerald City Guitars for a $16,950 asking price at the time of writing. The only thing that isn’t original about it is a replacement set of Kluson tuners, not because its originals were stolen but just to help preserve them. (They will be included in the case.)
With so few surviving 335-style EB-6 basses, Reverb doesn’t have a ton of sales data to compare prices to. Ten years ago, a lucky buyer found a nearly original 1960 EB-6 for about $7,000. But Emerald City’s $16,950 asking price is closer to more recent examples and asking prices.
Sources: Prices on Gibson Instruments, November 1, 1959, Tony Bacon’s “Danelectro’s UB-2 and the Early Days of 6-String Basses” Reverb News article, Gruhn’s Guide to Vintage Guitars, Tom Wheeler’s American Guitars: An Illustrated History, Reverb listings and Price Guide sales data.