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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Neil Young announces the love earth world tour, kicking off this summer.
Starting on June 18 in Rättvik, Sweden, the first leg of the tour travels through the EU and UK. The North American leg begins in Charlotte on August 8 before concluding in Los Angeles on September 15.
Tickets are available beginning tomorrow, February 25 via an exclusive, 48-hour presale for Neil Young Archives members. General on-sale begins Friday, February 28. Click HERE for tickets and see the full list of dates below. More dates will be added shortly.
With his band, the chrome hearts—Spooner Oldham (Farfisa organ), Micah Nelson (guitar and vocal), Corey McCormick (bass and vocal), Anthony LoGerfo (drums)—Neil Young (guitar and vocal) is bringing his music and songs, new and old, to you. Their recent single “big change” is the first introduction of what’s to come on the love earth tour.
Neil Young is proud to partner with Farm Aid (co-founded by Neil Young in 1985) to bring HOMEGROWN Concessions to this tour, leading the way to change the live music food system. HOMEGROWN Concessions brings family farm food — produced sustainably with a fair price paid to the farmer and served on compostable serviceware — to music venues.
love earth world tour dates:
Jun 18 — Rättvik, Sweden — Dalhalla
Jun 20 — Bergen, Norway — Bergenhus Fortress
Jun 22 — Copenhagen, Denmark — Tiøren
Jun 26 — Dublin, Ireland — Malahide Castle
Jun 30 — Brussels, Belgium — Brussels Palace Open Air, Palace Square
Jul 01 — Groningen, Netherlands — Drafbaan Stedpark
Jul 03 — Berlin, Germany — Waldbühne
Jul 04 — Mönchengladbach, Germany — Sparkassenpark
Jul 08 — Stuttgart, Germany — Cannstatter Wasen
Aug 8 — Charlotte, NC — PNC Music Pavilion
Aug 10 — Richmond, VA — Allianz Amphitheater at Riverfront
Aug 13 — Detroit, MI — Pine Knob Music Theatre
Aug 15 — Cleveland, OH — Blossom Music Center
Aug 17 — Toronto, ON — Budweiser Stage
Aug 21 — Gilford, NH — BankNH Pavilion
Aug 23 — New York, NY — Jones Beach
Aug 24 — Bethel, NY — Bethel Woods
Aug 27 — Chicago, IL — Northerly Island
Sep 01 — Denver, CO — Fiddler’s Green Amphitheatre
Sep 05 — George, WA — The Gorge
Sep 06 — Vancouver, BC — Deer Lake Park
Sep 10 — Bend, OR — Hayden Homes Amphitheater
Sep 12 — Mountain View, CA — Shoreline Amphitheater
Sep 15 — Los Angeles, CA — Hollywood Bowl
A digital pedal designed by Andrew Barta to replicate the dynamics and responsiveness of analog tube amplifiers. This stompbox offers preset clean, dirty, and lead tones, MIDI interface, and rugged all-metal housing.
As a staunch proponent of analog, Andrew Barta has never had the desire to venture into digital designs. The inventor of the SansAmp tube amplifier emulation technology, which debuted in 1989, Barta has remained loyal to the analog domain. That is, until now.
According to Barta, “To me, the main drawback of a digital modeler is the feel and the sound quality. It lacks dynamics and responsiveness. It sounds one-dimensional and it isn’t touch-sensitive, so the nuances of your playing style get lost. It limits your ability to change the tone by using your volume knob, picking lighter or harder. No matter how hard you hit the strings, the result is mostly the same. There’s no headroom and it doesn’t breathe. You are forced go to a different patch for a different tone. Ultimately, you have to conform to the device and play in a different way. So your artistic expression suffers. Artists have told me it’s like being in a cage. You have to wrestle harder to squeeze out the results and their fingers get really tired.
“Whatever device you’re using, be it an amp or SansAmp or modeler, it’s really a part of your instrument. Your instrument actually consists of the entire signal chain, not just the guitar. Digital is just a numeric translation and isn’t capable of preserving the individual personality of the guitar you use. The output is pretty much the same whether it’s a Fender or Gibson or Ric.”
Just as the original SansAmp was a personal mission to encapsulate tube amplifier sounds in a compact, portable pedal, Barta has long been on a quest to do the same in the digital domain. Never one to jump on a bandwagon, Barta wouldn’t “go digital” until he found a way to replicate the dynamics, responsiveness, and fluidity of its analog counterpart.
After many years, Barta “cracked the code.” This happened to coincide with the opportunity to collaborate with Marty Friedman. The result is the Marty Friedman Signature SansAmp.
An iconic guitarist who eloquently serves up enchanting and tearful melodies, as well as complicated notes that make your head spin, Marty Friedman surprisingly likes to keep his arsenal quite simple. The goal for Tech 21 was to embody his tone in a neat, compact, plug-and-play footprint. Marty’s focus is always on the music taking the spotlight rather than complex gear with distracting bells and whistles or requiring a cumbersome learning curve.
The Marty Friedman programmable Signature SansAmp comes preset with his main clean, dirty, and lead tones. Operationally similar to the SansAmp PSA 2.0, there are two modes: Performance mode to have your 3 main presets at the ready and Studio mode for up to 128 locations for custom presets.
Says Marty, “This is it! This pedal has been in the works for a long time and only an exceptional design engineer like Andrew Barta could make something with these beautiful tones so incredibly simple to use. Such bonehead easy-to-use effects haven’t been known to have world class sounds in them until now. I’m proud to put my name on the first one."
Controls include Reverb, 3-band active EQ, Drive, and Level. There’s also an adjustable Gate that dynamically and smoothly cleans up the signal, rather than cutting it off abruptly. Filteralters the tonality by manipulating the mid-range and is specifically voiced for Marty’s unique sound.
Other features include a MIDI interface to control the SansAmp externally, a chromatic tuner, an effect loop, 1/4-inch and XLR Outputs, and rugged all-metal housing and knobs. Utilizes included 9V DC auto-switching power supply with interchangeable international plugs for use anywhere in the world. Measures 7.5”l x 5.25”w x 2.0”h.
For more information, please visit tech21nyc.com.
There’s so much to explore when you decide to dip your toes into altered tunings.
There’s so much to explore when you decide to dip your toes into altered tunings. The jangly beauty of DADGAD and the new shapes found in open E and open C offers new inspiration. Caitlin Caggiano teaches you not only the easiest way to get into these tunings, but also a few handy shapes that will kickstart your playing today.
An imperfectly perfect routing job.
Take a moment to appreciate those quirks in your instruments that reveal their maker’s hands.
Let’s talk about obsessions for a minute. They come in all sizes and shapes; some are benign and harmless, while others can be cruel, crippling, or even life threatening. Members of 12-step and self-help programs remind us of how insidious our own self-delusion can be, which intrigued me enough to take a look at my gear and, ultimately, myself.
I took stock of any compulsive behaviors or things that kept me up at night. I tabulated items that pushed my buttons or irritated me. In the end, I had to admit that I’ve got issues—I’m obsessed. I can’t help myself, but I don’t want to either.
There are names and acronyms for what I have, but it all boils down to one thing: I’ve been obsessed with the little details. The little stuff that most people can pass by without a second thought. That candy wrapper teetering on the edge of the waste bin; I wonder, who could possibly tolerate that? That screwdriver with a worn tip? I’ve got to replace that! A small gap between a maple top and the binding? We can’t let that go. An uneven seam? To the bandsaw it goes, and then the dumpster. Those are the little glitches that make a statement individually and add up to a total that is less than what it could be. No, make that should be. Or should it?
The ancient Greeks were fascinated with the concept of arete, which refers to excellence or virtue. Arete represents the highest quality or state that something or someone can achieve. The German auto designer Ferdinand Porsche considered it almost a religion—indeed, the company’s motto has been interpreted as “excellence is expected.” I’m not imagining that I have the chops of a Porsche engineer, but we all have goals.Of course, there is a limit; otherwise, I’d never get anything done. I’m not crazy. So, in order to save myself, and possibly you, I encourage embracing a get-out-of-jail-free concept of sorts known to the Japanese as wabi-sabi.
Wabi-sabi plays a profound and integral role in Japanese culture and traditions, influencing various aspects of art, philosophy, and daily life. This aesthetic concept, ingrained into Japan’s culture, actually celebrates imperfection, impermanence, and simplicity. Some of the aesthetic principles of wabi-sabi include appreciating asymmetry, valuing roughness and simplicity, recognizing beauty in natural things, and embracing natural wear and tear. I think those of us who appreciate a real road-worn vintage instrument may already be part of the way there!
“As much as I don’t want my toaster to project sloppy construction, I do want beautiful instruments to approach perfection, while leaving little breadcrumbs that are evidence of the maker’s hand.”
For me as a musician and builder, I’ve come to soften my obsessions to appreciate and even look for the little “mistakes” in music and craft that tell me that a human being actually created those things. Things like off-mic banter in studio recordings, or fret buzz. As much as I don’t want my toaster to project sloppy construction, I do want beautiful instruments to approach perfection, while leaving little breadcrumbs that are evidence of the maker’s hand. Of course, under the microscope anything can be dissected and proclaimed imperfect, but there is a beauty to something that says, “This is as good as you need it to be.” Furthermore, you could say it’s beautiful the way it is because it has character shaped by virtues and flaws, just like a human being.
So, before I jump to a conclusion or judgement on a guitar, song, or most anything that is created by humans, I take a breath and consider character and personality. You might say that a perfect execution of lutherie might be flawless, but it’s the cold, sterile presence of the totally immaculate that I find flawed. When I look at the flatness of the finish on the top edge of a Collings headstock, I marvel at the determination behind it. But it’s not the entire beast, for that same guitar has telltale marks that prove it was made by people, not an alien force. They are the wabi-sabi—the maker’s mark.
I once owned a vintage Telecaster that was stunningly mint, but had a tiny knot in the maple fretboard, just past the 12th fret. Would I have returned it as unacceptable if I had been the original owner? Even at the time, many decades ago, I recognized the character that birthmark brought to my guitar. Even though it’s long gone from my collection, if I ever saw it again, I’d recognize it like an old compadre. And that, my friends, is what makes our instruments real to us. And I’m now obsessed with that.