With the birth of MTV and the music video, the new wave movement took the ’80s by storm. One of the genre’s biggest acts was the Cars. Comprised of singer-songwriter and rhythm guitarist Ric Ocasek, bassist Benjamin Orr, keyboardist Greg Hawkes, drummer David Robinson, and lead guitarist Elliot Easton, the Cars dominated the charts throughout the decade with hits like “Just What I Needed,” “Shake It Up,” “You Might Think,” “Drive,” and many, many more.
Much of the Cars’ success can be attributed to its hook-laden hits, many of which were crafted by Easton. Easton, a southpaw guitarist, is one of the best at successfully integrating the guitar into a pop-rock context. He is known for tasty and reserved playing—adding parts that serve the song rather than an ego. Easton was trained at the Berklee College of Music and certainly has chops to spare, but his playing style shows off his taste and discretion more than his ability. “There was this punk ethic that if you had too much technique, you didn’t have any street cred. It was hipper and somehow cooler to thumb three chords out of tune. While I don’t necessarily share that view—though I do love simplicity and I love a primitive kind of playing—it’s about what’s behind it,” says Easton.
The Cars disbanded in February 1988. But in 2005, Easton and original keyboardist Greg Hawkes formed The New Cars, featuring Todd Rundgren as lead vocalist. This version of the Cars achieved modest success, but had to cancel their 2006 spring tour after Easton broke his collarbone. By 2007, the band broke up. In 2011, after a 23-year hiatus, the original members of the Cars (minus Benjamin Orr, who died of pancreatic cancer in 2000) reunited. The band’s latest album, Move Like This, was released by Hear Music/Concord Music Group this spring, and provides that unmistakable Cars sound again. We checked in with the affable Easton to get inside information on the reunion and the gear he used on the recording sessions.
Tell us how the reunion came about.
Well, close to two years ago I called Ric up. I hadn’t spoken to him in a while, but he’s an old friend and we just had a nice chat. I asked him what he’d been doing and he said he’d been writing songs. Ric was real happy with them and said they were different than some of his past ones. I said, "That sounds great—what are you gonna do with them?" He told me he figured he’d just make another solo record, and that’s when I asked him about making a new Cars record. Ric liked the idea, and after a few weeks he'd made some calls to Greg and David, who also thought it would be fun and agreed to give it a try.
What was the impetus for calling Ric that day?
You know, when it’s ready, it’s ready. When you can do it, you can do it. You don’t even know why you couldn’t do it before that. It’s also not like I’ve been out of touch with these guys—we talk and have business together.
What was that first session like, getting back together?
It was great and felt good from the get-go. Even before we started playing together again, we got together up at Ric’s house, and it just felt like the Cars. There was clearly a gap since Benjamin was missing, but it was still the old jokes and humor. It’s like getting together with old family members—within minutes you’re back to where you were. It had a feeling of an event about it, with the anticipation that we were gonna play again, and that we were coming together for this reason.
Did Ric send you the music ahead of time?
He did. Ric sent us some demos so we had ideas about some of the songs. We were familiar enough to at least start trying to play something.
Were the guitar parts already written or did you take the tracks and work with them before the first session?
A band is like a cooperative—you just kick ideas around until you think you’ve got the best arrangement. It works in many different ways. I might come up with a part, or there might be something suggested by the demo I pick up on. There might be a part on the demo that is clearly part of the song, and too important not to play. We also make suggestions to each other like, "What do you think of this? Can you change that?" We just kind of hammer it out.
Where was the album recorded?Half was recorded at Millbrook Sound Studios in Millbrook, New York, and the other half was recorded at Village Recorders in Santa Monica. I live in LA, Ric lives in New York, and David and Greg live in the Boston area. So I flew into New York and David and Greg drove down from Boston. That first visit was maybe a week—not as complicated as it might seem.
Did you track your parts at home or did you do them all at the studio?
We did them all at the studio. There may have been some keyboard parts and other things from the demo—and Greg might’ve done some stuff on the computer—but I don’t remember exactly. I recorded everything in the studio.
What was your gear setup for the record?
On the west coast sessions, since I could drive there, I could bring more of my own stuff. For the east coast sessions, I just shipped a few guitars and a bunch of pedals along with my pedalboard. But Paul Orofino at Millbrook Studios has a fantastic collection of amps and it seems like he’s got one of everything—we could pick and choose whatever we wanted. It’s funny, though, because with all the vintage stuff that he had, we ended up mainly using the Fender Blues Jr. It’s like a tiny version of a Hot Rod Deluxe.
Just a stock Blues Jr.?
Yeah. For some reason, the Blues Jr. sounded amazing and we used that a lot, especially for the clean stuff. I also used a vintage Fender Vibrolux and an Ampeg Gemini. Paul has a bunch of heads in the control room that are mounted into the wall with a switch box, so you could try out any head easily. He also has two cabinet configurations, and I could switch between them. Along with these Marshalls, Hughes & Kettners, and all kinds of different amp heads Paul had in the control room, he had a whole collection of combo amps.
For the west coast stuff, I used a few different small amps of my own and Garret [producer Garret “Jackknife” Lee] had some amps, as well. I brought a handwired Vox AC15—the white one with a TV front and a Pentode/Triode switch. I also brought a reissue Princeton Reverb, a reissue Deluxe Reverb, and my Peavey Penta—that’s a wild amp. Garret had an old British AC30 that we used, along with an old Selmer. Though I don’t think we used the Selmer that much—he was having problems with that one.
What were the main guitars you used on the recordings?
The two main guitars were my signature model SG and a ’63 ES-335 Historic reissue. I used a Fender Custom Shop Nocaster, a white Fender Custom Shop ’66 Strat, and a Phantom Guitarworks 12-string. There’s my 6-string bass Strat from the Fender Custom Shop that’s like a Stratocaster, but it’s an octave lower. They built it for Dick Dale but he didn’t want it, so he gave it to me. It’s very cool. It’s like a blonde Mary Kay-looking thing, and it’s got a big, long neck on it—but it’s just a Strat. I also used a Martin HD-28V acoustic, and a white Mosrite Ventures model. I think that’s it!
How about cables, picks, and strings?
I’m a loyal D’Addario and Planet Waves man. On the Gibsons, I use .010 through .046—the regular 110s. And then, lately, on the Fender I’ve been using .0095s. They are between the .009s and .010s, and since they are a little lighter, I find them easier to bend with the longer scale.
How about pedals?
I’ll tell you what’s on the pedalboard for this Cars tour, if I can remember them all. It’s a big pedalboard. I’ve got a JangleBox compressor and a bunch of Line 6 stuff—a DL4, FM4, Echo Park, Verbzilla, Roto-Machine, and Tap Tremolo. For chorus, I’m using my old TC Electronic pedal, and I’ve got a Cry Baby wah-wah, a phaser, and a little Boss harmonizer.
What kind of pedalboard is it?
I had it built by Stompin' Ground—they’ll custom-build whatever you want. It has a case and wheels, and there’s room for other stuff in there. It’s powered underneath by two Voodoo Lab Pedal Powers.
You also worked with famed pedal guru Alfonso Hermida on the Tiki Drive. Can you tell us about that?
Alfonso sought me out a long time ago to try out the Zendrive—a great pedal—and we stayed friends. I have this pedal from Australia that I’m really crazy about called the MI Audio Crunch Box, and that pedal is the best “Marshall-in-a-box” distortion pedal that I’ve come across. I really love it—it’s got a great voice to it. So I asked Alf if he wanted to try to build something similar to the Crunch Box. The Zendrive is called a “Dumble-in-a-box” because it’s compressed and has a little different kind of tone to it. I asked him if he could do something that was more open sounding and more Marshall-y, while raving to him about this Crunch Box. He got one to check out, and Alf being Alf, did his own take on it. It’s a very different pedal than the Crunch Box. For one thing, it’s got two levels of gain—so you can dial it down to a nice overdrive, or you can dial it way up for great solo tones.
I understand that you have a collection of guitars for sale at Rudy’s Music in New York. Can you tell us about that?
I just prune the collection from time to time. I’ve got so many guitars, man. Once in a while, I just get rid of some, even though I’ve already taken most of them back.
Are there any guitars that you will never let go of?
There’s a couple there that I have to get back [laughs]. It’s not the best time to sell guitars, because of the economy anyway, so I’d rather hang on to them. I have a left-handed ’61 Barney Kessel custom with PAFs that I don’t think I would ever sell. I’m actually thinking of taking a couple more back from Rudy’s. I had a mint-condition 1965 ES-335 with a factory Bigsby and I just couldn’t stand it, man. I had him send it back. It was eating away at me.
Elliot Easton’s Gearbox
Guitars
Gibson Elliot Easton Signature SG, Gibson ’63 ES-335 Historic Reissue, Fender Custom Shop Nocaster, Fender Custom Shop ’66 Stratocaster, Phantom Guitarworks 12-string
Amps
Vox AC15, Fender 1965 Princeton Reverb reissue, Fender 1965 Deluxe Reverb reissue, Peavey Penta
Effects
Line 6 DL4 Delay Modeler, Line 6 FM4 Filter Modeler, Line 6 Echo Park, Line 6 Verbzilla, Line 6 Roto-Machine, Line 6 Tap Tremolo, TC Electronic Stereo Chorus, Dunlop Cry Baby wah-wah, Boss harmonizer, custom Stompin' Ground pedalboard, two Voodo Lab Pedal Powers
Strings
D’Addario .010s or .0095s, depending on guitar
Duane Denison of the Jesus Lizard, EGC Chessie in hands, coaxing some nasty tones from his Hiwatt.
The Jesus Lizard’s sixth album, Blue, served as the band’s final statement from the frontlines of noisy rock for the next 26 years. By the time of their dissolution in 1999, they’d earned a reputation for extreme performances chock full of hard-hitting, machine-like grooves delivered by bassist David Wm. Sims and, at their conclusion, drummer Mac McNeilly, at times aided and at other times punctured by the frontline of guitarist Duane Denison’s incisive, dissonant riffing, and presided over by the cantankerous howl of vocalist David Yow. In the years since, performative, thrilling bands such as Pissed Jeans, METZ, and Idles have built upon the Lizard’s musical foundation.
Denison has kept himself plenty busy over the last couple decades, forming the avant-rock supergroup Tomahawk—with vocalist Mike Patton, bassist Trevor Dunn (both from Mr. Bungle), and drummer John Stanier of Helmet—and alongside various other projects including Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers and Hank Williams III. The Jesus Lizard eventually reunited, but until now have only celebrated their catalog, never releasing new jams.
The Jesus Lizard, from left: bassist David Wm. Sims, singer David Yow, drummer Mac McNeilly, and guitarist Duane Denison.
Photo by Joshua Black Wilkins
Back in 2018, Denison, hanging in a hotel room with Yow, played a riff on his unplugged electric guitar that caught the singer’s ear. That song, called “West Side,” will remain unreleased for now, but Denison explains: “He said, ‘Wow, that’s really good. What is that?’ And I said, ‘It’s just some new thing. Why don’t we do an album?’” From those unassuming beginnings, the Jesus Lizard’s creative juices started flowing.
So, how does a band—especially one who so indelibly captured the ineffable energy of live rock performance—prepare to get a new record together 26 years after their last? Back in their earlier days, the members all lived together in a band house, collectively tending to the creative fire when inspiration struck. All these years later, they reside in different cities, so their process requires sending files back and forth and only meeting up for occasional demo sessions over the course of “three or four years.”
“When the time comes to get more in performance mode, I have a practice space. I go there by myself and crank it up. I turn that amp up and turn the metronome up and play loud.” —Duane Denison
the Jesus Lizard "Alexis Feels Sick"
Distance creates an obstacle to striking while the proverbial iron is hot, but Denison has a method to keep things energized: “Practice loud.” The guitarist professes the importance of practice, in general, and especially with a metronome. “We keep very detailed records of what the beats per minute of these songs are,” he explains. “To me, the way to do it is to run it to a Bluetooth speaker and crank it, and then crank your amp. I play a little at home, but when the time comes to get more in performance mode, I have a practice space. I go there by myself and crank it up. I turn that amp up and turn the metronome up and play loud.”
It’s a proven solution. On Rack—recorded at Patrick Carney’s Audio Eagle studio with producer Paul Allen—the band sound as vigorous as ever, proving they’ve not only remained in step with their younger selves, but they may have surpassed it with faders cranked. “Duane’s approach, both as a guitarist and writer, has an angular and menacing fingerprint that is his own unique style,” explains Allen. “The conviction in his playing that he is known for from his recordings in the ’80s and ’90s is still 100-percent intact and still driving full throttle today.”
“I try to be really, really precise,” he says. “I think we all do when it comes to the basic tracks, especially the rhythm parts. The band has always been this machine-like thing.” Together, they build a tension with Yow’s careening voice. “The vocals tend to be all over the place—in and out of tune, in and out of time,” he points out. “You’ve got this very free thing moving around in the foreground, and then you’ve got this very precise, detailed band playing behind it. That’s why it works.”
Before Rack, the Jesus Lizard hadn’t released a new record since 1998’s Blue.
Denison’s guitar also serves as the foreground foil to Yow’s unhinged raving, as on “Alexis Feels Sick,” where they form a demented harmony, or on the midnight creep of “What If,” where his vibrato-laden melodies bolster the singer’s unsettled, maniacal display. As precise as his riffs might be, his playing doesn’t stay strictly on the grid. On the slow, skulking “Armistice Day,” his percussive chording goes off the rails, giving way to a solo that slices that groove like a chef’s knife through warm butter as he reorganizes rock ’n’ roll histrionics into his own cut-up vocabulary.
“During recording sessions, his first solo takes are usually what we decide to keep,” explains Allen. “Listen to Duane’s guitar solos on Jack White’s ‘Morning, Noon, and Night,’ Tomahawk’s ‘Fatback,’ and ‘Grind’ off Rack. There’s a common ‘contained chaos’ thread among them that sounds like a harmonic Rubik’s cube that could only be solved by Duane.”
“Duane’s approach, both as a guitarist and writer, has an angular and menacing fingerprint that is his own unique style.” —Rack producer Paul Allen
To encapsulate just the right amount of intensity, “I don’t over practice everything,” the guitarist says. Instead, once he’s created a part, “I set it aside and don’t wear it out.” On Rack, it’s obvious not a single kilowatt of musical energy was lost in the rehearsal process.
Denison issues his noisy masterclass with assertive, overdriven tones supporting his dissonant voicings like barbed wire on top of an electric fence. The occasional application of slapback delay adds a threatening aura to his exacting riffage. His tones were just as carefully crafted as the parts he plays, and he relied mostly on his signature Electrical Guitar Company Chessie for the sessions, though a Fender Uptown Strat also appears, as well as a Taylor T5Z, which he chose for its “cleaner, hyper-articulated sound” on “Swan the Dog.” Though he’s been spotted at recent Jesus Lizard shows with a brand-new Powers Electric—he points out he played a demo model and says, “I just couldn’t let go of it,” so he ordered his own—that wasn’t until tracking was complete.
Duane Denison's Gear
Denison wields his Powers Electric at the Blue Room in Nashville last June.
Photo by Doug Coombe
Guitars
- Electrical Guitar Company Chessie
- Fender Uptown Strat
- Taylor T5Z
- Gibson ES-135
- Powers Electric
Amps
- Hiwatt Little J
- Hiwatt 2x12 cab with Fane F75 speakers
- Fender Super-Sonic combo
- Early ’60s Fender Bassman
- Marshall 1987X Plexi Reissue
- Victory Super Sheriff head
- Blackstar HT Stage 60—2 combos in stereo with Celestion Neo Creamback speakers and Mullard tubes
Effects
- Line 6 Helix
- Mantic Flex Pro
- TC Electronic G-Force
- Menatone Red Snapper
Strings and Picks
- Stringjoy Orbiters .0105 and .011 sets
- Dunlop celluloid white medium
- Sun Studios yellow picks
He ran through various amps—Marshalls, a Fender Bassman, two Fender Super-Sonic combos, and a Hiwatt Little J—at Audio Eagle. Live, if he’s not on backline gear, you’ll catch him mostly using 60-watt Blackstar HT Stage 60s loaded with Celestion Neo Creambacks. And while some boxes were stomped, he got most of his effects from a Line 6 Helix. “All of those sounds [in the Helix] are modeled on analog sounds, and you can tweak them endlessly,” he explains. “It’s just so practical and easy.”
The tools have only changed slightly since the band’s earlier days, when he favored Travis Beans and Hiwatts. Though he’s started to prefer higher gain sounds, Allen points out that “his guitar sound has always had teeth with a slightly bright sheen, and still does.”
“Honestly, I don’t think my tone has changed much over the past 30-something years,” Denison says. “I tend to favor a brighter, sharper sound with articulation. Someone sent me a video I had never seen of myself playing in the ’80s. I had a band called Cargo Cult in Austin, Texas. What struck me about it is it didn’t sound terribly different than what I sound like right now as far as the guitar sound and the approach. I don’t know what that tells you—I’m consistent?”
YouTube It
The Jesus Lizard take off at Nashville’s Blue Room this past June with “Hide & Seek” from Rack.
Phat Machine
The Phat Machine
The Phat Machine is designed to deliver the tone and responsiveness of a vintage germanium fuzz with improved temperature stability with no weird powering issues. Loaded with both a germanium and a silicon transistor, the Phat Machine offers the warmth and cleanup of a germanium fuzz but with the bite of a silicon pedal. It utilizes classic Volume and Fuzz control knobs, as well as a four-position Thickness control to dial-in any guitar and amp combo. Also included is a Bias trim pot and a Kill switch that allows battery lovers to shut off the battery without pulling the input cord.
Silk Worm Deluxe Overdrive
The Silk Worm Deluxe -- along with its standard Volume/Gain/Tone controls -- has a Bottom trim pot to dial in "just the right amount of thud with no mud at all: it’s felt more than heard." It also offers a Studio/Stage diode switch that allows you to select three levels of compression.
Both pedals offer the following features:
- 9-volt operation via standard DC external supply or internal battery compartment
- True bypass switching with LED indicator
- Pedalboard-friendly top mount jacks
- Rugged, tour-ready construction and super durable powder coated finish
- Made in the USA
Static Effectors’ Street Series pedals carry a street price of $149 each. They are available at select retailers and can also be purchased directly from the Static Effectors online store at www.staticeffectors.com.
This outing of Dipped In Tone kicks off with an exciting update from Zach Broyles’ camp: He’s opening a brick-and-mortar guitar shop in Nashville, called High Voltage Guitars. Opening on October 8, the store will carry gear from Two-Rock, Divided By 13, Dr. Z, Castedosa, Fano, Novo, and of course Mythos Pedals. Zach hints that there might be some handwired JHS pedals from Josh Scott himself, too, and Rhett reveals that he plans to consign some of his guitars at the shop.
The business side of Zach’s new venture brings them to a key piece of today’s episode: Rhett and Zach aren’t running charities. They do what they do to make money; guitars, gear, podcasting, and content creation are their literal jobs. And they’re not as glamorous and breezy as most armchair commentators might guess.
Want to do what Rhett and Zach do? Welcome to the club. The guitar-influencer field is what one might call “oversaturated” at the moment, and it’s difficult to break out—but not impossible. As our hosts explain, it requires putting in 60-hour work weeks, a diverse skillset, a knack for catching people’s attention, and a certain level of genuineness. Rhett knows this path well, and he has hard-earned advice for staying true to oneself while building a following in the gear world.
Tune in to learn why Rhett thinks Fretboard Summit, a three-day guitar festival organized by Fretboard Journal, blows NAMM out of the water and builds legitimate connections between guitarists, and catch the duo dipping a Dick Dale-inspired, all-Fender rig.
Get 10% off your order at stewmac.com/dippedintone
Galloup’s Plek tech Adam Winarski preps a Yamaha acoustic for the machine.
Presently, many certified guitar-repair specialists possess the expertise required to deliver an instrument that both sounds and plays wonderfully. The standards set by manufacturers and distributors have significantly risen, safeguarded by rigorous quality protocols to guarantee the best possible acoustic experience for customers. Additionally, lutherie training has raised the bar for critical processes, and one of the most tricky is fretwork.
Traditional fretwork once involved manual labor, with technicians utilizing sandbags or similar supports to steady the neck as they straightened it with a truss rod during the filing process. A notable advancement in this field came in the mid 1970s when Don Teeter, an author and repair expert, imposed a new method: fixing the guitar body to the bench and using blocks to maintain the neck in a playing position. This refinement was one of many in the continued quest to produce superior instruments by standardized methods.
An example of the Plek’s readings from an acoustic guitar.
Photo courtesy of Galloup Guitars
In the late 1970s, another pivotal innovation was introduced by Dan Erlewine. He created an advanced fret jig with a specialized body-holding system and neck supports, adding another layer of precision to the repair process. During my collaboration with Dan in 1985, we developed a rotating neck jig that counterbalanced the forces of gravity, keeping the instrument in its playing orientation while adjusting the neck supports. This step represented a significant leap in establishing control and standardization of fretwork procedures in our industry. By 1986, our approach had evolved into a freestanding workstation coupled with a sophisticated hold-down mechanism and enhanced neck supports, culminating in increased accuracy, efficiency, and consistency. Over the decades, the Erlewine/Galloup rotating neck jig has become a benchmark in numerous shops, enhancing fretwork performance.
"This step represented a significant leap in establishing control and standardization of fretwork procedures in our industry."
By the 1990s, automated and computerized technologies permeated the guitar manufacturing and repair sectors. Initially applied by import companies in the mass production of guitars, the technology, although expediting processes, did not immediately achieve high execution standards. However, the tech dramatically improved over time, with computer-driven systems eventually transforming the industry. Contemporary automated production utilizing such advancements meets exceedingly high standards of precision. Some bespoke guitar manufacturers, such as Steve Andersen, were pioneers in adopting these methods, but it was companies like Taylor that established them in the modern era.
Inevitably, the progression of technology extended beyond the mere production of parts. Around 1995, German engineer Gerd Anke envisioned the integration of computer-assisted technology into enhancing instrument playability, giving rise to Plek technology, which uses computers to precisely measure and analyze the various components of a guitar, like neck relief, fret height, nut and bridge specs, and more. Nashville guitar-repair tech Joe Glaser was among the first to recognize the machine’s value, followed by San Francisco luthier Gary Brawer. When Heritage Guitar Inc. invested in a Plek machine, the guitar industry could no longer disregard the significance of this innovation.
“The machine’s scanning data confirmed that there was one nature of an ideal fret plane, done by hand or machine, and unsurprisingly, it conformed exactly to what physics predicts, not personal mojo.”
In the spring of 2022, Galloup Guitars obtained its first Plek machine. Promptly, our technician Adam Winarski paved the way for the Plek’s integration in our shop. Now, it’s a rarity for an instrument to leave our shop without having undergone Plek analysis and machining. Impressed by the results of our integration, we created “Intro to Plek” as a course for all students enrolled at the Galloup School of Lutherie, offering our students a practical introduction to this technology. We furthered this educational initiative with a comprehensive one-week intensive “Plek Certification Training Course” for both students and the public. This advanced Plek course serves those seeking to boost their knowledge base and employability in this high-precision field.
Plek is rapidly becoming an industry standard for major manufacturers and smaller shops alike. However, this does not mean that those without access to this technology cannot execute proficient fretwork. Personally, I continue to use my Erlewine/Galloup neck jig—not only out of nostalgia, but also because it remains an excellent method for delivering accurate and reliable guitars. Still, it’s undeniable that the process of fretting, fret dressing, and analytics of fretted instruments has undergone significant transformation, resulting in better sounding—and playing—guitars. And ultimately, that’s what it’s all about.