A closer look at EH''s new Voice Box Harmony Machine & Vocoder stompbox
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The Voice Box creates two- to four-part harmonies directly from your vocals, and in the same key as your accompaniment instrument. Simply plug your mic into the Voice Box’s mic preamp, plug in your instrument and you’re ready to go. It’s that easy. No setup, no menus to navigate. Studio-quality reverb lets you independently add depth to your dry vocals and harmony vocals. An octave setting will perfectly track your vocals even without an accompaniment instrument. The focused 256-band articulate vocoder, designed by the genius that made the vocoder popular for EMS, features adjustable harmonic enhancement and controllable formant shift. Use any synthesizer and you have the classic vocoder of the seventies and eighties. Plug in your guitar and mic and you have a talk box.
Features include:
• Harmonically matches any electric instrument you plug into it
• Professional quality pitch shifting algorithm produces realistic harmonies
• The Low & High Harmony independently produces two harmony notes: 3rd and 5th
• 9 accessible programmable presets
• Natural Glissando
• Gender Bender knob allows for male/ female formant modification
• Built-In Mic Pre with Phantom Power & Gain Switch
• Balanced XLR Line Output: Interface directly with any mixing board or A/D converter
• US96DC-200BI power supply included
Watch the demo:
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/v/Qnj2oU8MYCI&hl=en&rel=0≈=%2526fmt%3D35 expand=1]
Hit page 2 for a more in-depth look at the Voice Box's features & modes...
FEATURES:
MODES:
Low Harmony
The Voice Box creates two harmony voices below the note you sing. The low voice is usually the lower 3rd below your note, but will sometimes be the lower 4th, depending on the most appropriate harmony for the chord your instrument plays and the note you sing. The high voice is usually the lower 5th below the note you sing, but will sometimes be the lower 6th, again depending on which harmony is the most appropriate.
High Harmony
The Voice Box creates two harmony voices above the note you sing. The low voice is usually the 3rd above your note, but will sometimes be the 4th, depending on the most appropriate harmony for the chord your instrument plays and the note you sing. The high voice is usually the 5th above the note you sing, but will sometimes be the 6th, again depending on the most appropriate harmony.
Low + High Harmony
The Voice Box creates two harmony voices, one above the note you sing and one below. The low voice is usually the lower 5th below the note you sing; the high voice is usually the upper 3rd above the note you sing.
Multi Harmony 1
Lower 3rd, Lower 5th and Upper 3rd. The Voice Box creates three harmonies: two lower harmonies and one upper harmony. The harmonies consist of the lower 3rd harmony, the lower 5th harmony and the upper 3rd harmony.
Multi Harmony 2
Lower 3rd, Lower 5th, Upper 3rd and Upper Octave. The Voice Box creates the same three harmonies as in Multi Harmony 1 and adds the upper octave. The harmonies consist of the lower 3rd harmony, the lower 5th harmony and the upper 3rd harmony. Added to the mix is the upper octave.
Multi Harmony 3
Lower Octave, Lower 5th, Upper 3rd and Upper 5th. The Voice Box creates three harmonies (one below, two above) plus an octave down. The harmonies consist of the lower 5th harmony, the upper 3rd harmony and the upper 5th harmony. Added to the mix is the lower octave.
Octaves Mode
Octaves mode pitch shifts your vocal up and down exactly one octave. Since the amount of pitch shift is preset to an octave, this mode does not require an instrument to be played along with your vocal.
Unison + Whistle Mode
Unison + Whistle mode is really like having two modes in one. Each function is separate from the other. Unison mode allows for formant shift without changing the pitch of your vocal. For example, you want to sound more female but without changing your pitch. Whistle mode synthesizes a whistle tone exactly two octaves above the note you sing.
Vocoder Mode
Vocoder mode turns the Voice Box into a 256-Band vocoder. Vocoding is an effect that allows a voice to modulate an instrument or sound source. The controls have been optimized so that the vocoder is very much plug, play and sing; the musician does not need to do much work to create fantastic sounding vocoder effects. As with most vocoders, both a vocal signal and an instrument signal are required to obtain the proper effect.
MSRP $286
Street $214.50
MORE:
- Enter to win a Voice Box
- Voice Box Product Page
- Watch the demo:
The final day is here! Enter Stompboxtober Day 31 for your last chance to win today’s pedal from Keeley and finish the month strong!
Keeley Octa Psi Transfigurating Fuzz Pedal with Polyphonic Pitch Shifting
Meet the OCTA PSI Transfigurating Fuzz – The Ultimate Combination of Pitch-Shifter, Octave Generator, and Tri-Voiced Analog Fuzz! Key features include: Instant Effect Order Switching, Flexible Output Configuration, Momentary or Latching Octave/Pitch, and more! Each pitch shift mode includes an up, down, and dual setting, resulting in 24 different modes.
The 6-string wielding songwriter has often gotten flack for reverberating his classic band’s sound in his solo work. But as time, and his latest, tells, that’s not only a strength, but what both he and loyal listeners want.
The guitarist, singer, and songwriter Jerry Cantrell, who is best known for helming Alice in Chains, one of the most influential bands in hard-rock history, is an affable, courteous conversationalist. He’ll apologize, for instance, when he’s been on a PR mission all afternoon and needs to eat something. “I’m sorry. I’m starving. I’m going to make a BLT while we finish this interview,” he says on a recent Zoom call.
“That’s bacon frying, by the way,” he adds, in case his interviewer was wondering about the sizzling sound in the background.
Over the better part of an hour, only a couple of points of discussion seem to stoke his ire. One would be ’90s-era culture writers who felt compelled to brand a wide range of interesting bands from the same city (Seattle) with the same hollow tag (grunge). “It’s just a fucking label,” he says. “But I get it. You gotta have a fucking descriptor.” (When he gets miffed, or especially enthusiastic, Cantrell’s F-bombs can progress from steady punctuation to military fusillade.)
Another pet peeve: Those who seem bewildered by the fact that his solo work often evokes Alice in Chains. “It always trips me out,” he says, “when I hear comments or get questions all the time, like, ‘Well, this sounds like Alice.’ Well, what do you think it was going to sound like? I’m the guitar player and the songwriter of Alice. That’s what I do. Do you want me to not be myself? It’s just a bizarre, bizarre thing.” A big laugh follows.
“I’m always collecting ideas, and you never know when they’re going to come, or what they’re going to turn into. I look at it like depositing money in a bank.”
Cantrell, 58, has a right to feel irked by such exchanges. After all, he and the classic Alice lineup of vocalist Layne Staley, bassist Mike Starr, and drummer Sean Kinney invented a mesmeric, instantly identifiable sound that continues to stand alone in heavy music. On paper, the Alice formula doesn’t indicate multi-platinum success outright: off-kilter vocal harmonies shared between Staley and Cantrell, which can call to mind arcane American folk music or the classical avant-garde; parts written in odd time; lyrics about the most wrenching depths of drug addiction, a black cloud that followed the band throughout its ascent and tragically claimed Staley’s life in 2002 and Starr’s in 2011.
But Cantrell and Alice were also dedicated students of hard-rock history, who, along with their Seattle peers Soundgarden, helped to reinvent chart-topping metal for the alternative-rock era. To be sure, the guitarist ranks among the great riff maestros, and his solos, whether all-out wailing or comprised of a few bluesy bends, always had weight and meaning within the context of the song. And with all due respect to Extreme, no other hard-rock act explored acoustic music with more brilliant results.
Boasting nine tracks and coproduced by Cantrell and Joe Barresi, I Want Blood keeps the guitarist’s expert riffs and lyrical solos front and center.
On their masterpiece, the 1992 album Dirt, Alice in Chains managed to take Black Sabbath’s template for molten riffs into stranger, more artful, and more desperate territory, yet they also crafted tracks chock-full of hooks. A seamless meld of pop moves and bone-crushing heaviness is something of a holy grail for hard-rock songwriters and producers, and Dirt nabs it. Think of tracks like “Them Bones,” with its 7/8 intro riff and aslant vocal-harmony verses that resolve into a punchy, satisfying chorus—among the pithiest assessments of mortality in rock ’n’ roll. Or “Rooster,” an homage to Cantrell’s Vietnam-veteran father, with its left-field R&B harmonies and molasses-drip tempo. Somehow, these are songs that can rattle around in your brain throughout entire road trips or workdays; as of this writing, Dirt has sold five-million copies in the U.S.
“Let the players find their songs, and the songs find their players.”
Cantrell’s new album, I Want Blood, is his fourth solo release, and it’s a strong argument that he should continue to sound like himself and his legacy. Coproduced by Cantrell and hard-rock studio wizard Joe Barresi, its nine tracks tap into the Alice in Chains aesthetic in a way that will hit a sweet spot for longtime fans. As on the albums that Alice has released since Staley’s passing, with vocalist William DuVall, that indefinable sense of unease, that smoky ambiance of dread, isn’t so enveloping. But Cantrell’s most crucial gifts—the riff science, the knack for hooks, the belief that solos should be lyrical, musical, singable—are front and center, and razor-sharp.
What’s more, he’s recruited fellow hard-rock royalty to fulfill this vision. In addition to Barresi, whose credits comprise Kyuss, Melvins, Tool, QotSA and many, many others, the album’s personnel includes bassists Robert Trujillo and Duff McKagan, and drummers Mike Bordin (Faith No More) and Gil Sharone (Marilyn Manson, the Dillinger Escape Plan).
Through Alice in Chains’ rise in the early ’90s to recent years, Cantrell’s hard-rock presence has remained unshakeable. Here, he strikes a timeless rock 'n' roll pose.
Photo by Jordi Vidal/PhotoFuss
I Want Blood is a ripper. “Vilified” couples a chunky metal riff with wah and talk-box accents and a wandering, Eastern-tinged melody; “Off the Rails” matches a line à la John Carpenter’s Halloween score with a groove-metal thrust, before a radio-ready chorus kicks in. Ditto the chorus of “Let It Lie,” whose verse riff is pure Sabbath bliss. The earworm title track is the stuff music-sync-licensing dreams are made of. When he dials the tempo back toward ballad territory, as on “Echoes of Laughter,” “Afterglow,” or “It Comes,” Cantrell’s instinct for songcraft seems to get even stronger. As with Alice’s best LPs, I Want Blood stays with you and grows on you until it’s in steady rotation.
So what of that songcraft? It’s been over three decades since Cantrell debuted on record, and he’s still mining heavy gold. What’s the strategy, and what’s the secret? Does Cantrell’s work get harder or easier as he edges toward 60? “There’s a duality to it,” he says. “So in one way, I can answer that it’s pretty easy for me to make music. And then also, it’s fucking incredibly difficult to make something good. It can be both.”
He details the three-part work cycle that has defined his adult life: “There’s the demo process of writing. There’s the preproduction and actual recording of a record. And then there’s the period where you go out and tour it, along with all your other material, in a set. During that last third of the process, I’m really not writing, but through all the phases I’m always collecting riffs.” He’s also continually listening to great music, and allowing it to seep in. In the previous week, Cantrell says, he’d “rocked a bunch of Bad Company, UFO, AC/DC, some Maiden, some Hank Williams, some Ernest Tubb, some ‘Jungle Boogie.’”
Jerry Cantrell's Gear
This photo, taken from underneath the stage, shows Cantrell in his element, performing with Alice in Chains at Lollapalooza in the early ’90s.
Photo by Ken Settle
Guitars
- G&L “Blue Dress” Rampage
- G&L “No War” Rampage
- Gibson “D Trip” Les Paul Custom
- Gibson Les Paul Junior
- Gibson Flying V
- G&L ASAT
Amps
- Bogner Fish preamp
- Friedman JJ-100 signature head
- Snorkeler (Bogner-modded Marshall JCM800)
Effects
- Dunlop Jerry Cantrell Firefly Cry Baby Wah
- MXR Jerry Cantrell Firefly Talk Box
- MXR EQ
- MXR EVH Flanger
- MXR Smart Gate
- MXR Timmy
- MXR Poly Blue Octave
- MXR Reverb
- Ibanez Tube Screamer
- Boss CE-5
- Boss DD-500
- Strymon Ola dBucket Chorus & Vibrato
Strings & Picks
- Dunlop strings
- Dunlop picks
“I’m a fan of the riff,” he adds. “I’m always collecting ideas, and you never know when they’re going to come, or what they’re going to turn into. I look at it like depositing money in a bank. Like if I’m in a dressing room somewhere and I’m just warming up, and I see [one of my bandmates] react to something that I’m playing—put it in the bank. If I have a superpower, it is being able to hear something that might be a cool thing to work up and develop into a full-on song.
“When I’m slugging out riffs and just jamming out, if it feels good to rock out and your head starts moving and your foot starts tapping and you got something good—you know. It’s got to hit on a primal level first, and satisfy in that way.”
Writing, then, is often the more cerebral duty of assembling the best of what Cantrell has accrued and documented. “Like Lego pieces,” he says. “That used to be one of my favorite toys when I was a kid—Legos. Building stuff, block by block.” But, Cantrell points out, the process can also be more straightforward; he’ll start with a single riff and attempt to build the song’s infrastructure out from there, “throwing options at it, and ideas,” he says.
Cantrell, pictured here at 27, has carried on his hard-rock legacy with confidence, defying those who question his support and continuation of Alice in Chains’ influential sound.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
“I don’t necessarily know where I’m going a lot of the time. I just know that I have an intention to get there, and I’ve been able to take that journey to completion and make some pretty decent albums and songs over the years. And so I have the confidence to know that I probably can do this again—if I just put my mind to it and go through the process and work my ass off in concert with a group of people who have the same thought process.”
“There should always be the threat that the train is going to come off the rails.”
Cantrell is most certainly a “band” guy. For I Want Blood, he decided to play through a bunch of the material with his famous friends in preproduction, rather than simply assigning them one or two songs to guest on: “Let the players find their songs, and the songs find their players,” as he puts it. “It might’ve been with a little bit of frustration, because they got day jobs in some pretty impressive bands.” Time wasn’t exactly plentiful, but he did get in some living-room jams and other sessions with Trujillo, Bordin, and McKagan that ensured each track had its best possible lineup. Fortunately, Cantrell’s coproducer, Barresi, is similarly averse to cutting corners. Cantrell describes him as “a long-haul trucker” who “doesn’t suffer fools.”
“I’m an architect who is also a builder. You know what I mean?” says the guitarist, alluding to the relentless, often tedious work of record-making.“There should always be the threat that the train is going to come off the rails,” he says. For both men, Cantrell explains, “When you’re done with the record is when you think you couldn’t have done it any better.” Or, as Barresi likes to say, “How do you know you’ve gone too far unless you’ve already been there?”
Barresi also has a kind of encyclopedic recall of rock sonics. “He’s a guy who knows where all the bodies are buried,” Cantrell says, “and any combo of stuff you want to achieve: ‘Like, you know that song in The Departed, the Stones tune where it sounds like the guitar is going through a Leslie?’ [“Let It Loose,” off Exile on Main Street.] ‘Yeah, I know that pedal, man. Let’s grab it.’ You give him a reference and he knows how to replicate it.”
“I love working with a lot of different colors,” Cantrell says. “So I’ll use any guitar or any amp or any pedal to get a certain sound, and that all comes with experimentation. But it always starts with the basics.”
“When you’re done with the record is when you think you couldn’t have done it any better.”
If you’re a faithful reader of Premier Guitar, you may already know what that means: two mid-’80s G&L Rampages and the Les Paul Custom that Cantrell relied on to write his 2002 solo album Degradation Trip (the instrument with the custom blowtorch finish job). In amps, his go-to was the Bogner Fish preamp that he immortalized in Alice in Chains, in addition to his Friedman JJ-100 signature head. Cantrell also mentions the Bogner-modded Marshall sound he’s known for—aka the fabled Snorkeler—alongside tones from Orange and Laney. Among the guitars that made the cut: a butterscotch Les Paul Junior that was a gift from Billie Joe Armstrong a couple years back. When asked about effects, picks, and strings, Cantrell responds that he’s “a Dunlop guy”—which includes his MXR Jerry Cantrell Firefly Talk Box and Dunlop signature Cry Baby wah pedals.
YouTube It
Live at the Grammy Museum in Los Angeles in 2021, Jerry Cantrell testifies to his status as one of the most iconic guitarists in hard-rock history.
Cantrell is a fount of anecdotes, and talking guitar is a great way to hear some of them. He first saw the Rampage onstage in a club, after moving from Washington to Dallas, Texas, in the mid-’80s. Later, he began jamming with some guys who played Rampages, and picked up a job at a music shop that their father managed. The shop was a G&L dealer, so Cantrell paid for his instruments in part by working there. The Rampage, he adds, “just felt right.”
“The guy who built the necks and bodies that Eddie used to build his guitars was right in my backyard.”
“You gotta give a lot of credit to Eddie Van Halen,” he adds. “[The Rampage] was basically Leo Fender’s answer to Frankenstein, to the Charvel/Jackson model. One tremolo, one knob, one humbucker; that’s it. No-nonsense, just a meat-and-potatoes rock ’n’ roll guitar.”
A few years before the Rampage—Cantrell pinpoints 1979, because Van Halen II was out—he obtained a neck that was originally intended for EVH, and used it on a Strat he built himself in woodshop. The neck was payment from Boogie Bodies, the legendary guitar-parts manufacturer where Lynn Ellsworth and Jim Warmoth laid the foundation for the Superstrat era. “That shop was in Puyallup, Washington,” Cantrell says, “and I lived in Spanaway, which was right next door.The guy who built the necks and bodies that Eddie used to build his guitars was right in my backyard.”
Cantrell was barely in his teens when he got a gig helping out around the shop, and earned a “beautiful bird’s-eye maple neck” that didn’t make it to Eddie because it had a small divot in the 3rd fret. Cantrell recalls today that his duties included sweeping up sawdust. Then, as now, it was all about the work.
Kevin Shields of My Bloody Valentine is one of the loudest guitarists around. And he puts his volume to work creating mythical tones that have captured so many of our imaginations, including our special shoegaze correspondent, guitarist and pedal-maestro Andy Pitcher, who is our guest today.
My Bloody Valentine has a short discography made up of just a few albums and EPs that span decades. Meticulous as he seems to be, Shields creates texture out of his layers of tracks and loops and fuzz throughout, creating a music that needs to be felt as much as it needs to be heard.
We go to the ultimate source as Billy Corgan leaves us a message about how it felt to hear those sounds in the pre-internet days, when rather than pull up a YouTube clip, your imagination would have to guide you toward a tone.
But not everyone is an MBV fan, so this conversation is part superfan hype and part debate. We can all agree Kevin Shields is a guitarists you should know, but we can’t all agree what to do with that information.
This episode is sponsored by Fender.
Learn more: https://www.fender.com./
He’ll forever be remembered for his unparalleled mastery of the Telecaster, but Roy Buchanan kept an open mind when it came to his guitars.
Perhaps you’ve read something where an artist or a brand is dubbed “authentic.” It’s marketing hype that’s both real and manufactured, but I assure you it can be both a legit and important concept. The problem is when it gets used in the first person. Who judges whether something is authentic or not? Critics? Magazines? The internet? A brand itself? What does it mean to you? We often refer to things as the “real deal,” so is that the same? Not exactly.
The real deal can be something that is what it purports to be—like a working cowboy. But if you see his hat brand in a store in New York, is that authentic? If you think this is splitting hairs, you might be right. We’d like to think that when we choose a guitar to play, our desire for playability and sound is at the forefront of the decision-making process, and mostly it is. But that blacked-out, pointy axe with the studded strap just won’t fly in your bro-country cover band, so you glom onto a paisley Telecaster, even though it doesn’t feel as good to you. Does this make you authentic? Personally, I’d love to see some chicken pickin’ on that pointy fiddle. Busting down barriers and breaking rules is the spirit of expression and creativity, and that’s authentic.
There’s no shame in honoring tradition and nodding in reverence to your influences, but you don’t have to bow down so low that you can’t be yourself, too. I used to think I was a “Gibson guy.” To a large extent, I still am, but many of you know my love of the Strat and Tele. My music room is full of other brands that I adore and use for certain applications. I believe that you have to use an instrument, effect, or amplifier to get what you need for the situation you’re in, no matter what the social connotation is.
“If Roy freaking Buchannan can rock out on a Les Paul or a Hamer Standard, you can break some rules, too.”
One night in the late 1970s, I answered the phone at the Hamer Guitars factory, mostly to see who on Earth would call at that late hour. To my surprise it was Roy Buchanan, the original master of the Telecaster. He wanted to chat about our Sunburst model that was fairly new to the market. His questions revolved around scale length, fretboard width, fret size, and weight. When I asked why he was interested in our guitar when he was known for playing Telecasters, he told me that he already had one of our Explorer-shaped Standard model guitars! I found this even more puzzling than the fact that Roy Buchanan had cold-called our office at night. Roy went on to say that in the studio he used a lot of different guitars, including a Les Paul with P-90s that he liked a lot. He used the Tele onstage, he said, “because people expect me to do all those Telecaster things.” He didn’t ask me to ship him a guitar for free or inquire about an artist discount. He said he’d check one out at a dealer. I recommended one near him, and we said goodnight. I began to wonder if it was a crank call.
I’d forgotten the whole episode until recently, when I saw a newspaper photograph of Roy Buchanan with his young daughter, Jennifer. I thought about how happy they looked and how sad it was that his death had stolen that little girl’s father from her. And right there in that photo, he’s playing that Hamer Standard. I’m not gonna lie and say that I didn’t cry.
So there it is, folks. If Roy freaking Buchanan can rock out on a Les Paul or a Hamer Standard, you can break some rules, too. I’m certain that he was most comfortable onstage with that beat-up old Tele, but it wasn’t his only love. It’s just the one that people think of when they imagine the authentic guy.
Songwriters often say they strive for connection through authenticity in their music and lyrics. And at the very core, that’s what it’s about—human connection. If you love that cowboy hat and live in Philadelphia, I’m not going to criticize you—just go ahead and wear it, dude. It’s about wearing the hat for its intended purpose, not putting it on to hope it makes you authentic.