Maestro FZ-M, Comet Chorus, Invader Distortion, Discoverer Delay, and Ranger Overdrive Reviews
A classic brand’s colorful return to the stompbox fray is marked by equally vibrant sounds.
The resurrection of Maestro as a stompbox-building concern has been a real breath of fresh air. With their colorful, substantial enclosures and illuminated bugle logos, Maestro’s five new stomps recall an era when effects pedals were still, thrillingly, working through their infancy. Call them retro if you want, but they look awesome, offer practical functionality, and sound great by just about any measure.
The beauty of Maestro’s stomps runs deeper than cool, colorful enclosures. There are a lot of compelling and often distinctive sounds in these effects. And with the promise of even more new releases before the end of 2022, it’s hard to not be excited about what oddities and original sounds might lie in wait. But for now, these new cornerstone introductions suggest that Maestro is embracing the creative possibilities of an new all-analog pedal line and aiming for sounds and functionality that offer real alternatives on the more accessible side of the cost spectrum.
Maestro's Five New Pedals | First Look
FZ-M Fuzz
For more information about the Maestro pedal line, go to maestroelectronics.com.
Though much has been made about Maestro’s return to the fuzz space, the new FZ-M is a very different animal than the 3-volt, AA battery-powered FZ-1 that appeared in 1962. Maestro is tight-lipped about the FZ-M’s design particulars. But Craig Hockenberry, director of engineering at Maestro, says the FZ-M employs a six-transistor design. By comparison, the Maestro FZ-1 used just three transistors and an Electro-Harmonix Big Muff used four. Other than the beastly Shin-Ei Super Fuzz, few fuzzes use six.
While the FZ-M is not an FZ-1 reissue, Maestro captures a lot of the sonic essence of mid-’60s fuzzes like the FZ-1 that eludes other builders. In vintage mode, the FZ-M has the snarling top-end focus and rasp that makes mid-’60s fuzzes cut so prominently. There’s more gain and volume than an FZ-1, which makes the FZ-M’s voice more aligned with the silicon Fuzzrite, silicon Bosstone, and, to some extent, the MkIII Tone Bender. (Of the fuzzes I used for comparison, a silicon Fuzzrite was the closest match.) And though the FZ-M is hot in the treble zone, there is a cool high-midrange honk that adds a smooth, almost saxophone-like resonance and complexity that keeps it from sounding too sizzly.
While the FZ-M, with its silicon transistors, is less responsive to guitar volume attenuation than some vintage germanium fuzzes, the FZ-M retains a surprising amount of body and bite without sounding too thin. It can’t match the fuzzy-to-clean dynamic range of, say, a germanium Fuzz Face, but there are still many medium-gain and near-clean tones accessible via your guitar volume knob. The meatier “modern” mode adds midrange to the output that makes chord overtones clearer and tighter. It also adds more of the singing sonorities that increase sustain.
The FZ-M sounds pretty distinctive, which is not easy in a flooded fuzz sphere. Players that value sustain above all things may find the FZ-M lacking compared to something like a Big Muff. But the FZ-M is rich with character, loud, and equally capable of buzzy garage-psych lines and articulate chords, depending on where you set the classic/modern switch. That combination of capabilities is no mean feat, and the FZ-M does it all at a very nice price.
Comet Chorus
For more information about the Maestro pedal line, go to maestroelectronics.com.
Most good chorus pedals can generate a reasonable facsimile of a rotary speaker sound. The Comet Chorus, however, makes deep, rotary-like modulations the foundation of its voice. While you can generate ’70s- and ’80s-style chorus textures, there aren’t a wealth of tones here that match the liquid shimmer you associate with Roland, Boss, Ibanez, or EHX analog chorus from that era. Where the signature sounds of those units are distinguished, in part, by high harmonics that suggest ringing octave and unison strings from a 12-string, the Comet’s modulations have less sheen and excitability in the high frequencies—producing darker, pulsing, and arguably more mysterious chorus tones that evoke a Leslie or Fender Vibratone.
These modulations are an exciting alternative to canonical ’70s and ’80s chorus tones. But a lot of the Comet’s magic is its capacity to mix rotary-style sounds and vintage bucket brigade chorus to relatively unique ends. The Comet’s versatility even extends to generating cool vibrato tones at high mix and depth levels. And while I couldn’t match the queasiest, most intense textures of a dedicated vibrato unit, like a Boss VB-2, the Comet can sound like a cross between a dark vibrato and a Vibratone rotary speaker—a composite that, like actual rotary/chorus blends, can be mesmerizing.
One interesting facet of the Comet’s voice is the way that it thickens your tone and seems to add volume as you advance the mix. This can mean less defined modulations if you situate a gain source upstream. But the syrupy-thick modulations that result can sound awesome in a spare mix.
The Comet’s coolest feature might be its “orbit” mode, which adds tremolo to the already rich modulations. At modest depth and mix settings, the tremolo lends subtle complexity to the modulation waves. But at higher settings there’s more than a hint of an old Magnatone or Fender brown-panel amp’s throbby pitch wobble—sounds that lend greasy attitude to simple chord arpeggios and sass to soulful chord melodies and leads.
The Comet Chorus is a really lovely modulator—largely because it’s able to occupy unusual spaces that mix and bridge vibrato, chorus, and rotary speaker tones. Users hell-bent on nailing vintage-’80s chorus tones down to the letter may come away disappointed. For everyone else, there are a wealth of cool, even unusual modulation tones to mess with.
Invader Distortion
For more information about the Maestro pedal line, go to maestroelectronics.com.
While arguments over overdrives and fuzz inspire no end of vitriol among guitarists, distortion pedals—in strange inverse proportion to their aggressiveness—don’t seem to ignite the same feistiness amongst their proponents. Maybe that’s because almost any half-decent distortion pedal has the potential to transform the simplest riff into a Sunset Strip smash and unleash your inner animal. And if you’re in the right mood, they’re all pretty fun! The Maestro Invader excels at delivering such thrills. But it also offers a spacious voice that leaves lots of room for detail and quick-picking nuance. It’s no less rowdy than any of the classic distortions, but it tends to color your guitar’s sound much less and, in some cases, lets your amp breathe a lot more.
I don’t own a raft of distortion pedals, but I was able to run the Invader alongside a few classics. Compared to an ancient RAT2, the Invader was much brighter and sounded a lot less compressed. Alongside a Boss DS-1, it sounded airier, fuller, and less raspy. A battered MXR Distortion+ was perhaps the closet match, but still didn’t sound quite as open or detailed as the Invader. Part of the perceived (and very relative) clarity in the Invader is down to its inherent brightness and presence, which it mostly achieves without sounding shrill. There’s also the copious headroom. The Invader is loud—it’s little wonder why Maestro included a noise gate switch—so you can be very surgical and selective about how much distortion and bite you want to add on top.
The merits of these attributes are subjective, of course. I love the woof, compression, and darker capabilities of the RAT2, for instance. And even at its bassiest settings the Invader can’t deliver that pedal’s mysterious, cloudy sense of mass. For some players, though, the Invader will represent an ideal counterpoint to those hazier distortion tones. If you crave note articulation, massive volume, and the capacity to rise above a thick mix, the Invader is a distinctive sounding distortion alternative.
Discoverer Delay
For more information about the Maestro pedal line, go to maestroelectronics.com.
Bucket brigade delay, like copious heaps of butter, tends to make everything more delicious. So it goes with the Discoverer Delay. Fundamentally, there isn’t a ton of difference between the voice of the Discoverer and other affordable bucket brigade delays like the MXR Carbon Copy and the Ibanez Analog Delay Mini. Like those pedals, it tops out at about 600 milliseconds of delay, and a bit of clock noise is almost always present in the repeats. The Discoverer’s repeats, however, are ever-so-slightly darker and hazier than the echoes from those units. The Discover also colors the attack of an initial note in a similar way. Depending on your tastes and objectives, these are not bad, and among the attributes that draw players to bucket brigade delay in the first place.
What really distinguishes the Discoverer is its modulation. Not coincidentally, perhaps, the modulation in the Discoverer has a bit in common with the vibrato sounds in the Comet Chorus. As a result, the Discoverer’s basic architecture and functionality starts to look and sound a lot like an old EHX Deluxe Memory Man. But there are subtle differences between the modulation in the two. The DMM’s vibrato modulations, at least on my vintage unit, have a very trebly and squiggly quality. The Discoverer’s, by contrast, are throatier, smoother, and more present in the low-midrange, as well as a tiny bit faster, giving the Discoverer’s modulations a more rotary-speaker-like voice. The results are intoxicating and addictive, to say the least.
Old-school Deluxe Memory Man users that creatively utilize the scale and spacing of the original DMM’s controls for oscillation and pitch-shift effects will also be thrilled with how the Explorer’s layout facilitates many of the same moves. All three knobs can be adjusted simultaneously with an easy three-finger grip, and the knobs turn with a smooth resistance that makes fluid, improvisational moves a piece of cake.
Ranger Overdrive
For more information about the Maestro pedal line, go to maestroelectronics.com.
Carving out unique sounds isn’t easy in the overdrive realm. Even among very different overdrive pedals, you’ll often find a loss of audible crossover in tonality—particularly when you add additional pedals to the mix. And because Maestro has thus far been pretty secretive about what goes on under the hood, it’s hard to say which overdrive circuit, if any, inspired this design. To my ear, however, the basic voice aligns closely in both sound and feel with that of the Klon Centaur and better Klon clones. Maestro highlights the Ranger’s blend of clean and distorted tones as a feature. This is, of course, a hallmark of Klon design, which blends an op-amp distorted signal path with second and third paths of undistorted lows and boosted near-clean sounds, then blends the dirty and clean paths via the gain knob.
Like a Klon, there is a basic high-fidelity feel to the Ranger. And compared to a vintage TS9 or a Boss SD-1, the Ranger is discernibly more oxygenated and open-sounding in many of the same ways that distinguish a Klon from those pedals. There are still obvious differences in the performance envelope of the Ranger and the Klon-type pedals I used for comparison. The EHX Soul Food and Tone Bakery Creme Brulee I used as Klon stand-ins (the latter was a near dead-ringer for the real thing in a shootout) both have more available treble than the Ranger. But this could be a good thing if you’re trying to tame spiky transients in your overdriven signal without sounding overly compressed. And, in general, the Ranger’s not-too-bright voice makes it a great partner for stacking with fuzz and other overdrives, and tends to color your amp and guitar voice a lot less.
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If you want to escape from the pressures of modern life, go pick up your guitar. Now. You’ll be glad you did.
As I write this, we’re a few weeks away from the election, and I’m feeling as nervous as a cat in a dog park. No matter how you’re voting, there’s a good chance you feel the same way. These are complex times.
But we have a source of respite that many do not: We play guitar. Lately, I’ve made it a point to carve out an hour or so nightly to play through some of my band’s current repertoire to keep the dust off between shows and to explore some fresh sonic options to work into songs. The practice is paying off musically, but that’s not the biggest benefit. I’ve noticed, after I shut down my amps and pedalboard, and put my guitars back on their stands, that I feel better. About everything. For that hour or so, I am simply lost in the joys and mysteries of playing guitar. Things start to reveal themselves, new ideas tumble out of my fingers, and suddenly I’m in a place where anxiety can’t get to me and my mind is largely clear. It’s a safe zone where I’m not judging myself or others, and I’m relaxed and present. It’s a place where polling numbers and attack ads, family members with difficulties, and other concerns don’t even exist. And while it may be temporary, it is also beautiful.
I’m certain many of us have the same experience when we’re playing at home or onstage. And if you’re reading this while voices in your head are nattering with worry, I suggest you immediately go plug a guitar—the one that plays like melted butter—into your favorite amp and play a little melody, or your favorite set of chord changes, or even a nice campfire chord. I’d be surprised if you don’t soon feel the sensation of tension trickling out of your spine.
This is the great gift of guitar playing and music in general: Its ability to transport us to another place—that zone of safety and delight. Under the weight of the world, it is often possible to temporarily forget guitar playing’s curative power, or be distracted from it, and that is why I am reminding you.
"This is the great gift of guitar playing and music in general: Its ability to transport us to another place—that zone of safety and delight."
For me, and I’m sure this is not just my experience, music has always been a refuge—a special thing that makes my heart fill with peace, joy, and wonder. I recall watching Johnny Cash on TV as a child, listening to his spoken stories and the tales in his songs, and feeling like I was being swept through time and space, to places and eras full of exciting people and things. It stretched my imagination and worldview, and made it seem that life’s possibilities were endless. I still cherish that feeling, and listening to, for a couple examples, Tom Waits, Pink Floyd, Merle Haggard, Lucinda Williams, Son House, Kevin Gordon, Coltrane, and the Messthetics, still delivers it. And the next step, playing music and writing songs, makes me feel like an occupant of a small corner of their universe, and that’s a place I cherish.
I’ll mention safety again, and pardon me if this gets too personal. Many of us, after surviving the pandemic and the last decade of turmoil, do not feel safe. Having grown up in a household with a physically and verbally abusive father, where a blow could come at any time without reason or warning, that’s long been an issue for me. And when the news of the latest mass shooting, for example, is fresh in my brain, I tend to map out places to hide or flee when I’m at a concert or a mall or a large public gathering. Maybe that’s just my problem, but my gut—and what I hear from others—tells me it’s not.
Oddly, one of the places I can feel safest and happiest is onstage, whether performing solo or with my band, when everything is flowing and the music is in my veins. And that’s the magic of guitar and music again. It’s given me a place to be in the world that I love and that makes me feel complete. If you get that feeling from playing and listening to music, don’t let anything get in its way. Sometimes, in these times, that can be challenging, but the first step to your personal oasis is simple: just pick up that special guitar and plug in.
Pacific Island pluckers had a hand in developing the beloved dreadnought acoustics, and changed the course of American guitar music.
In 1906, a devastating earthquake and three days of raging fires leveled 80 percent of San Francisco. Nine years later, to honor the opening of the Panama Canal and signal that San Francisco was back, the city held the Panama-Pacific International Exposition.
More than 18 million people visited. One of the most popular attractions was the Hawaiian Pavilion. Live music and hula dancing, integral parts of Hawaiian culture, were in the show, where they could be experienced on a large scale on the mainland for one of the first times.
That was the beginning of the Hawaiian music craze that had a good run in the U.S. until the Great Depression. Hawaiian musicians had already embraced the ukulele and steel-string guitar, originating the slide-based lap style (versus the typical, so-called Spanish-style playing orientation). Both instruments saw unprecedented demand on Hawaii and the mainland. The story of the ukulele is well-told, but in doing research for this article, I came across a funny comment that caught my eye: “It could be said that in the mid-1920s, Martin was a ukulele company that also made guitars!”
In early 1916, we made a large-body custom guitar for Hawaiian musician Major Kealakai. He ordered it through our largest distributor, Ditson. It was kind of a 0000-size, 12-fret, steel-string guitar with an extra-deep body. The Major and his band were touring the U.S. mainland, and he felt he needed a bigger, louder guitar.
Shortly after that, Ditson commissioned a new larger, pear-shaped steel-string guitar from us to capitalize on the growing interest in Hawaiian music. It was called the dreadnought. It had just 12 frets, a slotted headstock, and a sizable, resonant body. Initially, the dreadnought didn’t sell very well. We did find success, however, making many of our smaller-bodied guitars with steel strings set up for “Hawaiian-style” playing. These were often made with a koa-wood back and sides, and occasionally tops as well. Additionally, if players wanted to use our other guitars lap-style with a slide, Martin manufactured a nut extender to raise the strings far enough above the frets so they wouldn’t interfere.
“It could be said that in the mid-1920s, Martin was a ukulele company that also made guitars!”
While steel strings were available in the late 1800s, the quality was inconsistent. Thanks to the popularity of the banjo and the mandolin, steel-string quality improved. The steel string provided the extra volume many players were looking for.
During the Great Depression, Ditson suffered financial difficulties and was sold. We kept the dreadnought in the line and put the Martin name on it, but sales still remained low. In 1929, we made a one-off, 14-fret steel-string version of our 000-size guitar for a well-known vaudeville banjo player, Perry Bechtel. We squared off the shoulders to accommodate the 14-fret neck. He loved it—and we thought we were onto something.
Gibson also saw opportunity in larger-bodied guitars with steel strings and 14-fret necks. They introduced three new models in 1932: the HG-20, HG-22, and HG-24. The first two were slightly smaller than our dreadnought, and the third was slightly bigger. They realized the value of a 14-fret neck for modern playing styles with steel strings. But instead of squaring off the shoulders, they moved the bridge down and attached the neck to the slope-shouldered bodies.
Not only did those models have a traditional round soundhole, but they also had four f-holes and a sound baffle to try to compete with the newfangled resophonic guitars that were quite loud. But the Gibsons were not well received by consumers, and were eventually discontinued.
In 1934, we redesigned our dreadnought with square shoulders to accommodate a 14-fret neck. That same year, Gibson reintroduced the HG-24 body size with a single round soundhole—no more f-holes or sound baffle—and called it the Jumbo. The Martin Dreadnought and the Gibson J Series guitars are still wildly popular.
I do wonder if they would even exist today if Hawaiian music hadn’t entered the American-pop music sphere in the 1920s?
The tiniest TS on Earth has loads of practical upside and sounds that keep pace with esteemed overdrive company.
Solid Tube Screamer tones in a microscopic machine. Light and easy to affix to anything.
Small enough to lose easily! Vulnerable in the presence of heavy steppers?
$99
Olinthus Cicada
olinthus.com
The Olinthus Cicada’s Tube Screamer-on-a-postage-stamp concept is a captivating one. But contemplating the engineering impetus behind it begs questions: How much area does the pedal and mandatory/included TRRS breakout cable actually conserve? Where do you situate it in relation to other pedals so you can actually tap the bypass—which is the pedal enclosure itself! Would my neighbor’s cat eat it? As it turns out, there’s many good reasons for the Cicada to be.
For starters, small size and light weight on this order are a big deal. Flying with gear is stupid expensive. So, for players that don’t relish the antiseptic aspects of modeling, this micro-analog middle path could be a sensible one. Altogether, pedal and cable are about the size of a set of keys. You can stuff it all in a pocket, put clean laundry in your gig bag, and tour for a while, as long as the rain doesn’t soak your shoes.
All this assumes you roll with very small and very few additional effects. But if you can survive on overdrive alone, you can stick a little adhesive to the back—tape, Velcro, bubblegum, etc.—and affix the Cicada to almost anything. It sounds really good, too! A classic TS application—Fender combo and Stratocaster—yields soulful blues smoke. The same Fender amp and an SG means dynamite, raunchy, and rich Mick Taylorisms. It even does the Iommi stomp pretty well at high gain! I’m still not sure if the Cicada is a solution for a less-than-pressing engineering problem. Nevertheless, it opens up real practical possibilities and sounds more than legit in the process.
Featuring a slim Headlock system, water-resistant shell, and spacious front pocket. Available in classic Black and Ash, as well as new colors Moonlight Blue, Amazon Green, and Burnt Orange.
This brand new design reimagines and elevates the original to new heights, featuring a fresh range of colors and a refined slim Headlock system. The enhanced MONO Sleeve is engineered for durability, featuring industrial-grade webbing handles reinforced with steel rivets and bar-tack stitching, a water-resistant 420D shell, and plush interior lining. A spacious front pocket offers easy access to essentials like cables, tuners, and other gear, while the ergonomic shoulder straps ensure comfort during long-distance commutes. Sleek and compact, the MONO M80 Sleeve 2.0 is the perfect choice for guitarists on the go.
To bring the MONO M80 Sleeve 2.0 to life in the launch campaign, MONO collaborated with renowned guitarist Rock Choi from Seoul, South Korea, known for his bold and precise playing style, and Susannah Joffe, an emerging indie-pop musician from Austin, Texas, USA. Together, the artists showcase the M80 Sleeve 2.0 in a dynamic video set in New York City, demonstrating how effortlessly the case integrates into the urban lifestyle while offering superior protection for their instruments.
The updated Sleeve 2.0 is available in classic Black and Ash, and for the first time in MONO’s history, debuts a range of new colors: Moonlight Blue, Amazon Green, and Burnt Orange, giving artists fresh avenues to express themselves through their gear.
The MONO M80 Sleeve 2.0 features include:
- An ergonomically designed case that is sleek and suited for urban travel, along with comfortable shoulder straps and a tactile side handle for easy carrying.
- A water-resistant 420D shell and plush interior lining, built to military specs and extreme resistance to abrasion and the elements.
- A slim Headlock system, made from shock-absorbing EVA rubber, secures the guitar's neck and headstock, while the EVA insole protects the body and strap pin from impact.
- A spacious front pocket for essentials like laptops and cables, and a small interior mesh pocket for critical items.
- Side-release chest buckles provide added security and a construction reinforced with steel rivets for extra durability.
- Rock-solid, industrial webbing handles that are standard in MONO cases. Bar-tack stitching and steel rivets reinforce strength, while high-grade webbing offers a comfortable grip.
- String guard protection to safeguard your guitar’s strings.