Small, light, and super-powerful, this solid-state amp is a blank slate that brims with character.
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RatingsPros:Super powerful. Light and compact. Versatile EQ and gain controls. Surprising character and color for a solid-state amp. Cons: Absence of tube-amp compression. Expensive. Street: $1,499 ZT Custom Shop Lee Ranaldo Club ztamplifiers.com/ | Tones: Ease of Use: Build/Design: Value: |
ZT amps donāt fit easily into traditional amplifier product categories. Theyāre not wired or voiced to cop tweed, British, or American amplifier sounds. And depending on your perspective, they can either look streamlined or a little too much like a random tech appliance.
But playing the ZT Lee Ranaldo Club, a chameleonic, compact, portable, lightweight, 220-watt, 1x12 solid-state powerhouse, makes you wonder if ZT amps arenāt a category all their ownāone especially well suited to the making of modern music. Like many ZT amps, the Lee Ranaldo Club is both a blank slate and capable of communicating color and characterāa feat of duality it achieves via high headroom, versatile gain and EQ controls, and an amenable relationship to effects of all kinds. Along with the small-but-potent ethos that informs all ZT designs, this flexibility makes it ideal for space constrained, big-city dwelling artists with wide stylistic vocabularies. But the Lee Ranaldo Club isnāt built solely for that purpose. Impressively, it can hang with traditional tube amps onstage and offer many cool tone alternatives in the studio
Sonic Source
ZTās newest Club series amp is part of the company's custom shop series (which are considerably more expensive than most stock ZT models). It was created with Lee Ranaldo, who, with Sonic Youth and as a solo artist, practically defines the stylistically divergent, big-city dwelling guitarist. Ranaldoās vocabulary is built on delicate-to-violent playing dynamics, overdrive and delay textures, looping, and most importantly, alternate tunings bubbling over with complex harmonicsātones and textures that expose and overwhelm a lousy amp fast, in other words.
Handling complex textures and sounds isnāt difficult for the Lee Ranaldo Club. A fundamental reason is the Clubās ample headroom. I A/Bād the Club with a 30-watt Fender Tremolux and 50-watt Fender Bassman, both through a 2x12 cabinet with 75-watt Warehouse speakers. When comparing the amps alone and together, itās hard not to be struck by how loud and clean the Club remains as the Fenders compress and distort. For a little box not much bigger than the 12" neodymium speaker at its heart, it can be dangerously, painfully, and impressively loud.
All this horsepower wouldnāt be worth much were it not for the Clubās ability to corral and shape it. And the 3-band EQ section is a powerful, versatile tool for manipulating the Clubās output. Each of the three EQ controls have exceptional range. The treble can be rolled back to smoky, blunted extremes that are killer for shaping unusual fuzz and overdrive tones. But itās best for adding oxygen and a capacity for pointillist-level overtone detail. I could spend days playing open-tuned electric 12-string with a little delay at these aerated settingsābathing in the darting and percolating overtones. The bass control is equally wide-ranging, providing thoughtfully voiced counterweight to the lively high end. And because the Club has so much headroom, you can shape very present, full-spectrum bass tones free of compression and distortionāitās little wonder jazz-influenced players like Nels Cline have been exploiting the low end capabilities of ZT amps for years.
Of Mids and Mass
The mid control is the most idiosyncratic of the EQ knobs. My favorite settings live around the 9 oāclock and noon range. Past noon, the midrange control colors the output considerably, adding snorkely and, at times, almost wah-like filtered tones. These advanced mid settings can sound Mick Ronson-cool or claustrophobic, depending on your approach. But they can also make an overdrive really snarl. Not surprisingly, the real potential of the strong midrange voice becomes most apparent when using Lee Ranaldo-style open tunings. A tuning made up of Cs and Gs in octaves and doubles sounded beautiful at the airiest mid range settings, but became positively orchestral at bold midrange settingsālending low-mid register notes a cello-like presence that contributes dimension and depth, animates harmonics, and contributes balance and ballast to the ample sparkling highs and clear bottom end.
The gain control is another remarkably sensitive tool for sculpting the Clubās output. Most gain settings have an organic, tube-like softness around the edges. And in the first two thirds of its range, this knob provides many subtle overdrive shadings that deliver weight and depth. The upper third of the gain controlās range, however, generates rich tube-like grind that can be shaped in very specific ways with the EQ. Itās invaluable for pairing the Club with thin single-coils, though I achieved the meatiest overdrive results with humbuckers (and in particular, a Telecaster Deluxe with Curtis Novak reproductions of ā70s Fender Wide Range humbuckersāwhich is not surprisingly, a favored Lee Ranaldo tone recipe).
Sensitivity Receptors
One of the ampās most impressive performance attributes is its ability to handle effectsāand not just the pretty delays and rich modulation units that reveal extra detail when paired with high-headroom amps. The ZT sounds super cool with fuzz. And while it lacks the tube compression that can flatter really gnarly fuzz units, the high headroom and flexible EQ enable you to highlight fuzz overtones and shape the ampās reactivity to fuzz in other constructive ways. I attacked the Club with Big Muffs, Tone Benders, and Fuzzrites, and each sounded killer at neutral amp settings. Inevitably, some fuzzes will demand treble attenuation from the amp. There just isnāt enough of the compression and sag to round off the sharper corners the way a tube amp does. But I could make a case for each of these effects sounding more fresh and exciting when run through the ZTās transparent circuitry.
The Verdict
If youāre a solid-state amp skeptic, the USA-built Lee Ranaldo Club will probably shift your perceptions dramatically. Itās warm, rich, and even earthy in its tonality at times. I did miss a sense of amp compression on some occasions. But while you donāt sense picking sensitivity in quite the way you would with a tube amplifier, itās lively, reactive, and responsive. That it delivers so much potency and sonic flexibility in such a light and compact package is a wonder.
Watch the Review Demo:
Columnist Janek Gwizdala with heroes Dennis Chambers (left) and Mike Stern (right).
Keeping your gigging commitments can be tough, especially when faced with a call from a hero. But itās always the right choice.
Saying āyes!ā to everything early on has put me in a place now where I can say no to almost everything and still be okay. That wasnāt without its challenges. Iād like to share a story about a āyesā that would haunt me for years.
As bass players, we can, if we choose, quite easily find ourselves in a wide variety of situations without having to change much about our sound or our playing. If your time is good and youāre able to help those around you feel good and sound better, the telephone will pretty much always ring.
Playing jazz as an electric-bass player living in New York City from 2000 to 2010 was somewhat of a foolās errand in terms of getting work. No one wanted electric bass, and bandleaders would go to the bottom of a list of 100 upright players before they would even think about calling you. Not only that, but I wasnāt even at the top of the electric list when I first moved there. Not even close. Anthony Jackson, Richard Bona, Will Lee, Tim Lefebvre, James Genus, Lincoln Goines, Mike Pope, John Benitez, Matthew Garrisonāthatās a whoās who of the instrument when I first moved to town, and I was very much a freshman with almost no experience. Almostā¦
Iād been lucky enough to play extensively with Kenwood Dennard (Jacoās drummer), and a little with Hiram Bullock (Jacoās guitarist) before moving to NYC which helped create a little momentum, but only a VERY little.
This is where the story begins:
Iād sent Mike Stern a demo back in late ā97. Heād not only taken the time to listen to it but had called my parentsā house right after I moved to the U.S. to tell me he loved it and wanted to hang. I missed the call but eventually met him at a clinic he gave at Berklee.
Of course, I was buzzing about all of this. It helped me stay laser-focused on practice and on moving to NYC as soon as possible. I got the typical ālook me up when you get to townā invitation from Stern and basically counted the seconds through the three semesters I stayed at Berklee until I could split town.
I arrived with a ton of confidence but zero gigs. And nothing happened overnight. It really took saying yes to literally everything I was offered just to keep a roof over my head. Through that process, I felt like I was getting further away from playing with my jazz heroes.
The early gigs were far from glamorousālong hours, terrible pay, and sometimes, after travel expenses, they cost me money to play.
āWhenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroesāthe reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do.ā
When Stern finally called, a few years into living in NYC, things started to move pretty quickly. I began playing a lot of gigs at the 55 Bar with him, and short road trips became a thingāa four-night stint at Arturo Sandovalās new club in Miami, gigs in Chicago, Cleveland, and upstate New York, and then some international work, including a tour of Mexico and a trip to Brazil, if I remember right.
But the hardest phone call of my career came from Mike not long into my time touring with him. It went something like this:
āHey man, whatās your scene in April? Lincoln canāt make a trip to the West Coast. Itās just one gig. Trio⦠with DENNIS CHAMBERS.ā
Mike didnāt shout Dennisā name, but thatās how I heard it. My all-time hero. Someone Iād been dreaming about playing with for over 15 years. And hereās the kicker: I had to say no.
Iād just committed to six weeks with Jojo Mayerās band Nerve in Asia and Europe, and there was no way I could bail on him. And there was no way I could afford to ditch six weeks of work for a single gig with Mike. To say that haunted me for years is an understatement. I was destroyed that I had to turn it down.
The tour with Jojo was amazingāthe posters hang in my studio as a reminder of those times to this day. And thankfully, I was able to go on some years later and play dozens of shows with Mike and Dennis all over the worldātruly some of the highlights of my career.
I still think about that phone call, though. Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroesāthe reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do. I get emotional writing and thinking about it even now. But I've learned to never have regrets and understand you just have to believe in the process and maintain the willpower to continueāno matter what.
New RAT Sound Solution Offers a Refined Evolution of Distortion
ACT Entertainment ās iconic RAT brand has unveiledthe Sterling Vermin, a boutique distortion guitar pedal that blends heritage tone with modernrefinement. With a new take on RATās unmistakable sound, Sterling Vermin delivers a new levelof precision and versatility.
āThe Sterling Vermin was born from a desire for something different ā something refined, withthe soul of a traditional RAT pedal, but with a voice all its own,ā says Shawn Wells, MarketManagerāSound, ACT Entertainment, who designed the pedal along with his colleague MattGates. āBuilt in small batches and hand-soldered in ACTās Jackson, Missouri headquarters, theSterling Vermin is a work of pure beauty that honors the brand legacy while taking a bold stepforward for creativity.ā
The Sterling Vermin features the LM741 Op-Amp and a pair of selectable clipping diodes.Players can toggle between the traditional RAT silicon diode configuration for a punchy, mid-range bite, or the BAT41 option for a smoother, more balanced response. The result is a pedalthatās equally at home delivering snarling distortion or articulate, low-gain overdrive, with a wide,usable tonal range throughout the entire gain spectrum.
The pedal also features CTS pots and oversized knobs for even, responsive control that affordsa satisfying smoothness to the rotation, with just the right amount of tension. Additionally, thepolished stainless-steel enclosure with laser-annealed graphics showcases the merging of thepedalās vintage flavor and striking design.
āFrom low-gain tones reminiscent of a Klon or Bluesbreaker, to high-gain settings that flirt withBig Muff territory ā yet stay tight and controlled ā the Sterling Vermin is a masterclass indynamic distortion,ā says Gates, an ACT Entertainment Sales Representative. āWith premiumcomponents, deliberate design and a focus on feel, the Sterling Vermin is more than a pedal, itāsa new chapter for RAT.ā
The RAT Sterling Vermin is available immediately and retails for $349 USD. For moreinformation about this solution, visit: actentertainment.com/rat-distortion .
The Miku was introduced about 10 years ago and is based on the vocal stylings of Hatsune Miku, a virtual pop icon. But it does much more than artificial vowels and high-pitched words.
Itās tempting to think of this pedal as a joke. Donāt.
It all started a few years ago through a trade with a friend. I just wanted to help him outāhe really wanted to get a fuzz pedal but didnāt have enough cash, so he offered up the Korg Miku. I had no idea then, but it turned out to be the best trade Iāve ever made.
Hereās the truth: the Korg Miku is not your typical guitar pedal. It wonāt boost your mids, sculpt your gain, or serve up that warm, buttery overdrive youāve always worshipped. Nope. This little box does something entirely different: It sings! Yes, sings in a Japanese kawaii accent thatās based on the signature voice of virtual pop icon Hatsune Miku.
At first glance, itās tempting to dismiss this pedal as just a gimmickāa joke, a collectorās oddity, the kind of thing you buy for fun and then forget next to your Hello Kitty Strat. But hereās the twist: Some take it seriously and Iām one of those people.
I play in a punk band called Cakrux, and lately Iāve been working with a member of a Japanese idol-style girl groupāyeah, itās exactly the kind of wild mashup youād ever imagine. Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, the Miku found its way into my setup, and weirdly enough, it stuck. Itās quirky, beautiful, occasionally maddening, and somehow ⦠just right. After plenty of time spent in rehearsals, studio takes, and more sonic experiments than I care to admit, Iāve come to appreciate this pedal in unexpected ways. So here are a few things you probably didnāt know about this delightfully strange little box.
Itās Not Organicāand Thatās OK
Most guitar pedals are chasing something real. Wah pedals mimic the human voiceāor even a trumpet. Tube Screamers? Theyāre built to recreate the warm push of an overdriven tube amp. Cab sims aim to replicate the tone of real-world speaker setups. But the Miku? It breaks the mold. Instead of emulating reality, it channels the voice of a fictional pop icon. Hatsune Miku isnāt a personāsheās a vocaloid, a fully digital creation made of samples and synthesis. The Miku doesnāt try to sound organic, it tries to sound like her. In that sense, it might be the only pedal trying to reproduce something that never existed in the physical world. And honestly, thereās something oddly poetic about that.
A World-Class Buffer
Hereās a fun fact: I once saw a big-name Indonesian session guitaristāyou know, the kind who plays in sold-out arenasāwith a Miku pedal on his board. I was like, āNo way this guyās busting out vocaloid lines mid-solo.ā Plot twist: He only uses it for the buffer. Yep, the man swears by it and says itās the best-sounding buffer heās ever plugged into. I laughed ⦠until I tried it. And honestly? Heās not wrong. Even if you never hear Miku sing a note, this pedal still deserves a spot on your board. Just for the tone mojo alone. Wild, right?
āThe Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldnāt work for your music, but somehow, it just does.ā
Impossible to Tame
Most pedals are built to make your life easier. The Miku? Not so much. This thing demands patienceāand maybe a little spiritual surrender. First off, the tracking can be finicky, especially if youāre using low-output pickups. Latency becomes really noticeable and your picking dynamics suddenly matter a lot more. Then thereās the golden rule I learned the hard way. Neverāeverāput anything before the Miku. No fuzz, no wah, no compressor, not even a buffer! It gets confused instantly and says āWhat is going on here?ā And donāt even think about punching in while recording. The vocal results are so unpredictable, youāll never get the same sound twice. Mess up halfway? Youāre starting from scratch. Same setup, same take, same chaotic energy. Itās like trying to recreate a fever dream. Good luck with that.
Full Range = Full Power
Sure, itās made for guitar, but the Miku really comes to life when you run it through a keyboard amp, bass cab, or even a full-range speaker. Why? Because her voice covers way more frequency range than a regular guitar speaker can handle. Plug it into a PA system or a bass rig, and everything sounds clearer, richer, way more expressive. Itās like letting Hatsune Miku out of her cage.
The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn't work for your music, but somehow, it just does. Is it the best pedal out there? Nah. Is it practical? Not by a long shot. But every time I plug it in, I canāt help but smile. Itās unpredictable, a little wild, and it feels like youāre jamming in the middle of a bizarre Isekai anime scene. And honestly, thatās what makes it fun.
This thing used to go for less than $100. Now? Itās fetching many times that. Is it worth the price? Thatās up to you. But for me, the Korg Miku isnāt just another pedalāitās a strange, delightful journey Iām glad I didnāt skip. No regrets here.
Two guitars, two amps, and two people is all it takes to bring the noise.
The day before they played the coveted Blue Room at Third Man Records in Nashville, the Washington, D.C.-based garage-punk duo Teen Mortgage released their debut record, Devil Ultrasonic Dream. Not a bad couple of days for a young band.
PGās Chris Kies caught up with guitarist and vocalist James Guile at the Blue Room to find out how he builds the bandās bombastic guitar attack.
Brought to you by DāAddario.
Devilish Dunable
Guile has been known to use Telecasters and Gretsches in the past, but this time out heās sticking with this Dunable Cyclops DE, courtesy of Gwarsenio Hallāaka Jordan Olds of metal-themed comedy talk show Two Minutes to Late Night. Guile digs the Dunableās lightness on his shoulders, and its balance of high and low frequencies.
Storm Warning
What does Guile like about this Squier Cyclone? Simple: its color. This one is also nice and easy on the back, and Guile picked it up from Atomic Music in Beltsville, Maryland.
Crushing It
Guile also scooped this Music Man 410-HD from Atomic, which he got just for this tour for a pretty sweet deal. It runs alongside an Orange Crush Bass 100 to rumble out the low end.
James Guileās Pedalboard
The Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and Hiwatt Filter Fuzz MkII run to the Orange, while everything elseāa DigiTech Whammy, Pro Co Lilā RAT, and Death by Audio Echo Dream 2āruns to the Music Man. A TC Helicon Mic Mechanic is on board for vocal assistance, and a TC Electronic PolyTune 3, Morley ABY, and Voodoo Labs Pedal Power 3 Plus keep the ship afloat.