Imarhan’s Sadam, in the foreground, raises a Jazzmaster triumphantly.
Marie Planeille
Question:Is expensive vintage gear really worth the price?
Guest Picker
Iyad Moussa Ben Abderahmane, a.k.a. Sadam (Imarhan)
A: In terms of music gear, I’m not a big collector. But I’ll always pick vintage over newer stuff. I’m a fan of old Gibson guitars—I actually own an SG from the late ’70s, either ’78 or ’79. It sounds amazing and is really easy to play.
Obsession: My current obsession is figuring out how I can help keep the Tamasheq language alive. I’m thinking about writing a book so my kids can learn it, and maybe even finding a way to connect the language to tourism in southern Algeria. I believe we need to develop tourism around Tamanrasset—it could play an important role in safeguarding our culture.
Reader of the Month
Derek Rader
A: My answer … maybe. What motivates you to play and perform is worth the money within a person’s means. If a vintage guitar price isn’t unobtanium, and it has the feel, sound, and mojo, then it’s an emphatic yes! However, a myriad of luthiers and custom shops can provide a similar experience with modern production methods, materials, and electronics, at a lower cost, and the comfort of a warranty. There isn’t a wrong choice if the purchase is motivated by what drives you to play and write music that created the spark to pick up your first guitar.
Obsession: Music theory! A definite area for improvement, and I’m working with the talented Mr. Cris Eaves to improve as a player. Amazing journey!
Contributing Editor
Ted Drozdowski
A: I used to be dismissive about vintage gear until Ronnie Earl let me play his ’64 Strat years ago. I instantly sounded and played better. Now, I treasure my vintage instruments: a ’68 Les Paul, a ’58 Special, a ’72 Super Lead, a ’64 Supro Tremo-Verb, and an original Maestro Fuzz-Tone. Nothing sounds quite like these originals. That said, I can’t imagine spending six digits on a guitar—even if I had that much cake—unless I was also giving alot to charity.
Obsession: EHX’s new Pico Atomic Cluster Spectral Decomposer. It’s full of sounds I’ve been looking for!
Gear Editor
Charlie Saufley
A: Vintage-or-not is a completely case-by-case thing, and there is no one criteria by which to judge the worth of an old instrument. Depending on your musical needs and manner of expression, some old things that have since been digitized don’t cut it in compact form. For instance, I’m tired of paying to fix my Echoplex EP-3, but I haven’t found a digital alternative that I can physically manipulate in the same way. Three little clustered dials just aren’t going to work or feel like the EP-3’s record-head slider/lever and the perfectly spaced sustain and volume knobs—not to mention the tape irregularities.
Vibes are a real thing too, though. I’m no less psyched when I play something I like on a brand-new Squier. But I also know that engaging with my old guitars and amps is a different kind of fun. It’s just like driving a car from the 1950s or 1960s. The right ones—in addition to feeling as comfortable as old, worn baseball gloves—exude a sense of history and travel and secret stories that appeal to a sentimentalist like myself, and those sensations spark my imagination in ways I can’t put a price on.
Obsession:
Inventing a melody, slowing it down—way down—and fitting a new melody in the spaces in between.
When he was 10 years old, Graeme McKinnon walked into a pawn shop near his home in Edmonton, Alberta, and bought his first guitar for $50. It was a sharp-angled, all-black axe made by the Japanese company Profile as a low-cost imitation of a Jackson, with a knife-like headstock that jutted curiously upward.
“It looked like a reaper’s scythe,” McKinnon says, recalling the way he’d carry it around town in an awkwardly shaped gig bag. “Everyone thought I had a hunting rifle.”
It was the early ’90s, in the thick of the Seattle grunge movement, and McKinnon’s older cousin would often come over and play him Pearl Jam songs, which he didn’t really like. But when his guitar teacher showed him the Ramones, something unlocked in the youngster. As he improved his chops, McKinnon and his older brother, a bassist, would jam Dead Kennedys and Beastie Boys songs together. McKinnon was hooked on punk rock. “That’s how I cut my teeth,” he says. “The downstrokes from the Ramones stuck with me forever. I always practiced my right hand.”
Fast forward 30 years, and today McKinnon is one half of the post-punk duo Home Front, one of the most hyped-up bands to emerge from Canada in recent years. And the outfit’s new album Watch It Die should earn them a spot on the Mount Rushmore of the current post-punk revival, alongside other breakouts like Fontaines D.C., Idles, and Viagra Boys.
In 2021, McKinnon’s hardcore punk band No Problem was on hiatus and he was looking for a new outlet. That’s when his childhood friend Clint Frazier, previously a member of the electro dance-punk outfit Shout Out Out Out Out, asked him to start a synth-driven band.
“The downstrokes from the Ramones stuck with me forever. I always practiced my right hand.”—Graeme McKinnon
The style that they created combines the jangly sheen of synth-pop, the sneering attitude of old-school punk rock, and the hard-stomping force of oi! and hardcore. The band nicknamed it “bootwave,” a reference to the distinct sound of winter boots marching on ice-crusted snow or the cold concrete of the streets of Edmonton. “Our sound has this duality,” McKinnon says. “There’s the punk side, there’s the synth side, and it’s always these two forces.”
“We’re just trying to find enough space in the songs to do both of them well,” adds Frazier. “I’ve been trying to do that for over 20 years.”
Ernie Ball Regular Slinky (.045–.130), unchanged since 2019 (bass)
Dunlop .73mm picks
Home Front, anchored by Clint Frazier (center) and Graeme McKinnon (second from left), perform at Edmonton’s Starlite Ballroom in 2023.
Eric Kozakiewicz
Watch It Die follows Home Front’s full-length debut, 2023’s Games of Power. That album earned them positive press from some of the indie-rock scene’s key tastemakers, and it was longlisted for the Polaris Music Prize. The band hit the road hard to support it, embarking on multiple tours of the U.S., the U.K., and mainland Europe, including dates with punk veterans like Dillinger Four and Cock Sparrer, as well as fellow newcomers the Chisel and High Vis.
Like its predecessor, Watch It Die is a record that posits that life is hard, the world is cruel, and it’s easy to feel powerless to make any difference. It’s a headspace that stops just a few yards short of nihilism. But this time around, McKinnon and Frazier are channeling something else, too: hope.
“Our sound has this duality. There’s the punk side, there’s the synth side, and it’s always these two forces.”—McKinnon
“I was using a metaphor of a flower being picked and becoming an ornament in someone’s place, and it’s slowly dying,” McKinnon says. “The secret, the bit that brings a little bit of hope, is that the seed is still in the ground. They can’t see it and they can’t steal it. You watched this part die, but underneath, there’s something else.”
With his previous bands, McKinnon had approached his instrument in much the same way he had since he was a kid: Ramones-style power chords and fast-and-furious downstrokes on his trusty Fender ’72 Telecaster Deluxe. With Home Front, McKinnon had to rethink his playing so that it could coexist with Frazier’s ordnance of analog synths and drum machines.
Watch It Die, Home Front’s second LP, is a glorious blast of frantic, hopeful post-punk.
He looked for inspiration from bands he had always loved but hadn’t previously channeled: England’s ’80s post-punk and new wave exports like New Order, Joy Division, Depeche Mode, the Cure, A Flock of Seagulls, and Blitz. But he wasn’t just looking to do what they did; instead, he wanted to bring his hard-nosed punk style to the mix. “If the electronics are covered, then maybe the play is to bring that punk attack to the guitar to accent the synths,” he says.
On Watch It Die, McKinnon played almost everything through a 1979 Marshall JMP, giving him bright, saturated power chords that tracked well whether he was palm muting or fully strumming. The main exception was a cigar box amp made by a friend who works at an auto shop. It was miked close and cranked, giving them the trashy ’70s punk sound on “Young Offender.”
McKinnon used his Telecaster for most of the record, but he also brought out a 1979 Gibson Marauder with a swapped-in P-90 pickup, which he coupled with a German-made Van Hall fuzz pedal to find the nasty, scooped-out tone that appears on some of the record’s more straight-ahead punk songs like “Young Offender” and “For the Children (F*ck All).” On the new wave jams “Kiss the Sky” and “Between the Waves,” he pulled out a Hagstrom Viking that engineer Nik Kozub recorded by miking the semi-hollow body itself, giving the songs a thin, percussive jangle without having the low end of a proper acoustic muddying the mix.
For McKinnon, it was important to get his palm mutes sounding clean and punchy, and to have them perfectly aligned with the synth arpeggiators—even when he’d add swirls of reverb and delay in his chain. Enter his secret weapon: an old Roland SDE-3000 digital delay that he got from the TV studio where he works. McKinnon and Frazier used its BPM-sync function to dial it in to precisely match the tempo of the drum machines.
McKinnon also records all of the bass lines for Home Front. That, of course, comes with its own military-grade arsenal. On “Empire,” he pulled out all the stops. For the grand finale, he chained the Van Hall into a fully cranked Pro Co RAT, into the MXR Blue Box octave fuzz, and finally into a dimed-out Peavey Super Festival F-800B. It was “the nastiest fuzz bass I’ve ever played,” he says, creating a wall of sound inspired by My Bloody Valentine. Frazier accentuated that enormous gain-fest with eighth-note Roland 808s that he painstakingly tuned, note by note, so that each kick would follow the bass line, creating a pulsating effect that makes rhythmic sense of McKinnon’s fuzzed-out chaos.
That is, fittingly enough, the thematic throughline of Watch It Die: making sense of the madness. “Our lives are chaos all the time,” says McKinnon. “We have jobs that are going to end at any moment. The rent is too high, the groceries are too expensive, all these stresses, and then every time you open up your phone, there’s atrocities in the world. There’s shit your government’s doing, police breaking families apart, this is stuff you’re constantly thinking about, and it’s always hitting you.”
But Home Front aren’t just going to wallow in their sorrows. “On this record, I didn’t want to sound like, ‘Shit’s bad. I’m just gonna be kicking rocks,’” McKinnon continues. “It’s more like, ‘Shit’s bad, but this is how we’re gonna work through this, by having outlets that allow us to form like Voltron to terrorize the oppressors.’” PG
Reverb and delay. What two effects are better suited to live side-by-side in one pedal? Source Audio’s new Encounter reverb and delay is a mirror image of the company’s Collider, which explores the reverb/delay combo via a vintage lens. The mirror by which Encounter reflects the Collider, however, is more like the funhouse variety. There are many psychedelic, cosmic, and wildly refracted echoes to utilize in the Encounter. There are lots of practical ones that can be tuned to subtle ends, too. But Encounter’s realm-of-the-extra-real extras make it a companion for players that ply dreamy musical seas. It’s incredibly fun, a great spark for creativity, and, most certainly, a place to lose oneself.
Exponentially Unfolding
Of Encounter’s six reverb modes and six delay modes, four of them—the hypersphere, shimmers, and trem verb reverbs, and the kaleidoscope delay—are entirely new. Hypersphere, fundamentally, makes reverberations more particulate. Source Audio says it’s a reverb without direct reflections. In their most naked state, these reverberations can still sound a touch angular and perhaps not quite as ghostly and fluid as “no direct reflections” suggests. But they are still complex, appealing, immersive sounds. Odd reverberation clusters can conjure a confused sense of space and highlight different overtones and frequency peaks in random ways. At settings where you can hear this level of detail, hypersphere shines, particularly in spacious solo phrases. Hypersphere also features phase rate and pitch modulation depth functions via the control 1 and control 2 knobs, and they can further accent and enhance those frequency peaks, creating intoxicating, deep fractal reflection systems.
“Blends of the delay and reverb are the kind of places where you can lose track of a rainy day.”
The new trem verb mode can be practical or insane. The two effects together are a pillar of vintage electric guitar atmospherics. But the Encounter’s trem verb explodes those templates. As with the hypersphere mode, trem verb can zest simple chord melodies by using extreme effect settings at low mixes, where chaotic, half-hidden patterns dip in and out of the shadows, sometimes creating eerie counterpoint. But I loved trem verb most at extremes—mostly high mix, feedback, and decay settings with really slow modulation. Sounds here can be intense and vague—like strobe flashes piercing drifting fog. It might not be an ideal place to indulge fast, technical fretwork, but it’s a wonderland for exploring overtones, drone, and melodic possibilities.
Incidentally, the trem verb is a great match for the six delays, and the new kaleidoscope delay in particular, which fractures and scatters repeats in a million possible directions and spaces. Blends of the delay and reverb are the kind of places where you can lose track of a rainy day. The sound permutations often seem endless, and finding magic can take some attention and patience. But you can strike gold fast, too. You have to take care to save settings you really love (you can store as many as eight presets on board, and 128 total via midi) because it’s hard to resist the urge to meander through— and meditate on—hours of sound without stopping. Not all of the Encounter’s sounds are perfectly pleasing. Some combinations reveal peaky little chirps that betray digital origins—the merits of which are subjective and contextual. For the most part, though, the combined sounds are liquid and vividly complex, and can be especially enveloping at high mix and feedback.
Extended Reach
If the onboard controls don’t get you in enough trouble, downloading the Neuro 3 app, which unlocks deep control and functionality, is a minor wormhole. Take the case of trem verb—you can use Neuro 3 to change the wave shape or set up the reverb to affect the wet signal only, just the dry signal, or both of them. All of these changes open up a new system of tone caves as the sound evolves. If you’re deep in the nuance of a mix or arrangement, this functionality can be invaluable. And it’s a boon if you have nothing but time on your hands. In a state of engaged, intuitive workflow, I like to avoid these kinds of app dives. But having that much extended power on your phone or computer is impressive.
Neuro 3 extends the capability of the Encounter in other ways, too. The SoundCheck tool within Encounter is home to prerecorded loops of various instruments that you can then route through a virtual Encounter pedal. That means you can explore Encounter’s potential while stuck in a train station. It’s a real asset if you want to understand the pedal as completely as possible, and certainly a way to extract the most value from the unit’s considerable $399 price.
The Verdict
About that price. It looks steep. For most of us, it’s a significant investment. But when I consider how many sounds I found in the Encounter, how compact it is, and the possibilities that it opens up in performance and portable production (especially when you factor in the stereo ins and outs), that investment seems pretty sound. I must qualify all this by saying I was happiest with the Encounter when exploring its spaciest places—the kind of atmospheric layer where Spacemen 3, ambient producers, 1969 Pink Floyd, and slow-soul balladeers all hang. But there is room to roam for precision pickers that background radical effects, too.
Still looking to justify the cash outlay? Consider the Encounter as a portable outboard post-production and mixing asset. If you’re creating music built on big, shape-shifting ambience, it’s a cool thing to have in your bag of tricks. Different artists will mine more from the Encounter than others, so you should consider our ratings scores on a sliding scale. But as you contemplate the Encounter, be sure to factor in mystery paths that will beckon when you dive in. There’s lots of fuel for creation along most of them.
Connecticut builder Josh Forest’s TreeTone Guitars specializes in retro-inspired designs with hip offset bodies, classic inspired color combos, and an array of electronic options. He’s teamed up with Orangewood to offer an imported version of his Del Sol model—which he produces in a standard-tuning version under his own name—as a baritone. Although the Orangewood Del Sol Baritone hits a price point well below a domestic build, it’s a solidly crafted, handsome guitar that punches well above its $795 tag.
Comfy Feels
The Del Sol Baritone’s slick, unique offset mahogany body evokes retro Fender vibes, but on its own terms. It’s a sleek look, and thanks to its chambered design—with a bass-side f-hole—it’s lightweight.
Playing while seated, the bari has a nice weight distribution and offers a comfortable playing experience. Its 27 1/2" scale length is close enough to a standard scale to feel familiar, giving it a more guitar-like feel than, say, a Danelectro’s 29 3/4" scale or a Bass VI’s 30", which makes it easy to get acquainted with.
Without checking price data first, I guessed it was priced a few hundred bucks above its $795 cost direct from Orangewood.”
A pair of P-90s sit nicely in the 3-ply parchment pickguard. Controls include a master volume and tone with pickup selector, plus a phase switch. Characteristically, the P-90s tend toward warmth more than clarity, but together they have a wide range, from bridge-position twang to thick neck tones. They certainly lean dark, and digging in will push their output enough to drive the amp if you’re already heading in that direction. That’s particularly the case with the neck pickup, though tamping down the bass control on my Deluxe Reverb helped keep it cleaner longer. But the P-90s performed great once overdriven, whether from the amp or with the help of a dirt box, with plenty of sonic space for well-articulated arpeggios and dynamic strumming. I preferred the middle position most, and the phase switch—located on a brushed aluminum control plate between the volume and tone knobs—opens up the possibilities. It’s a helpful control, especially for navigating bass response and finding the line between heaviness and twang.
Jack of All Trades
The Del Sol’s roasted maple neck has a smooth satin finish and a soft C profile. Combined with the 12" radius on its rosewood fretboard, the neck feels great. A rounded heel offers easy access to the upper frets, and has a spoke wheel for truss rod adjustment, which I always find to be a thoughtful and welcome feature. The 43 mm nut width feels naturally spaced for the .013–.072 strings that come stock.
As far as build quality goes, my demo model arrived set up and ready to go. The frets are even and nicely dressed across the neck, and seem to have received a fine level of attention. In fact, from top to bottom, the Del Sol’s build is flawless. Without checking price data first, I guessed it was priced a few hundred bucks above its $795 cost direct from Orangewood.
Though its offset aesthetic gives a bit of a surfy vibe, the Del Sol Baritone is more of a rocker—though I suspect replacing the Tune-o-matic-style bridge with a JM-style vibrato could push it in the former direction. It’s definitely capable of heavier sounds and plays well with distortion. The resonance of the chambered body lends some sustain across its range, and that helps this bari sing. The easy playability of the neck and fretboard open it up to all styles, and knotty, technical passages are easy to execute. That makes the Del Sol a specifically versatile instrument. The other side of versatility, though, is that if you’re looking for specialized sounds—let’s say a Dano-with-lipstick-pickup kind of thing, or a tic tac bass sound—you might not find it. But as a do-it-all baritone under $1,000, the Del Sol is one to consider.
The Verdict
The Orangewood brand model delivers attention to detail in cool aesthetic packages at easy-to-reach prices. Yes, there are less expensive baritones than the Del Sol on the market. But many of those cater toward more specific, if not a bit quirky, tastes. Instead, the Del Sol Baritone can cover a breadth of stylistic ground both sonically and, thanks to its easy playability, from a technical perspective. With a build quality that’s more consistent with a higher price point, it delivers both musical and financial value. If you want a well-rounded bari, this may be all you’ll ever need.
Hello! Welcome back to Mod Garage, and our “Tonewood Teardown” series. After finishing our work on the body of our Telecaster, let’s move on to the hardware and electronics, starting with the pickguard.
The factory-stock pickguard on this guitar is a 3-ply mint green one, and as they say, there’s no accounting for taste! In my book, a greenish pickguard on a green body isn’t an appealing look, so it had to go. Because I want to transform the guitar to Esquire specs, I had to replace it anyway, and this is a perfect field to let creativity flow and create a custom look: There are countless choices when it comes to materials, from plastic to metal to wood to acrylic glass to leather and beyond. Find the color and pattern you like best, or simply leave the original pickguard with the neck pickup removed for a serious DIY aesthetic. You can cover the hole for the neck pickup with some tape (maybe in a third green color, like neon green!) or simply remove the pickguard for the ultimate outlaw look, exposing the neck pickup routing.
I decided for a classic vintage look, with a twist. After comparing several different pickguard colors, I decided to use a 1-ply nicotine-white guard, which perfectly matches the now-matte look of the surf-green body. The color is also often referred to as parchment, offset white, eggshell white, or vintage white—not white, not cream, but somewhere in between. (Wow, an accidental rhyme!)
You can buy replacement pickguards from plenty of companies, but if you want to keep it strictly DIY, you can purchase an uncut sheet of the material. I already had some nicotine-white blanks in my storage room, so I used the old pickguard as my pattern and a simple jigsaw with different saw blades to carve out the new one. For the curvatures, I like to use a superfine round saw blade, and a standard straight one for even lines. Put some self-adhesive foil on the surface to keep you safe from any accidents.
An Esquire pickguard without the neck pickup opening is easy to fashion, and a perfect beginners’ project for pickguard-making—so be brave! It took me about 20 minutes, plus a few more minutes to drill and countersink the holes for the pickguard screws. After another 10 minutes with some sandpaper and files, the new pickguard was ready, and it looked so much better on the surf green body compared to the stock mint green.
To give the new pickguard a custom-shop twist, I decided to break the shine and make it matte like the body, which was done in just a few minutes by using some fine 0000-grit steel wool and abrasive cloth. This easy step makes it look slightly used, and by applying different grades of steel wool and pressure, you can decide on your own exactly how “used” it will look. I decided for a moderate used look that Fender would call “closet classic.”
“Do yourself a favor and replace the tiny screws with heavier ones—better safe than sorry!”
To take it the extra mile, I decided to round all the edges to give it a rolled-edge feeling—very smooth and a pleasure to touch. I thought this would be done in no time, but I was mistaken; it took me almost an hour to look and feel great! That said, rounding the edges isn’t a complicated task, since all you need is some sandpaper wrapped around a wooden rod. The hard part is getting all of the edges totally even, so if you decide to give it a try, prepare some strong coffee and take your time. It was absolutely worth the time, effort … and swearing. I found that the trick was to always get the same angle with the sandpaper, and to stay away from rotating tools like a Dremel.
Now, for the rest of the body. In general, I have a problem with all the screws used on this guitar. The diameter is always smaller compared to the standard, and the material is very soft, which is flirting with stripped-screw-head disaster. Besides this, the chromed surface is super shiny, so I decided to replace all screws with stainless-steel screws in standard sizes. I really like the typical matte look of most stainless-steel screws; they appear a little bit worn right out of the box and are easy to work with. All you need to do to give them the “closet-classic” look is rub the head of the screws with some sandpaper to produce artificial scratches. You can buy matching stainless-steel screws in any guitar or hardware store.
Next, let’s take a look at the factory-stock strap buttons. They’re chromed and standard Fender-sized, so no need to replace them if you want to keep the classic ’50s look. The stock screws are tiny, so I’ll replace them with thicker stainless steel ones. Here, too, you have plenty of options to customize your guitar by using the strap buttons you like best, or, alternatively, removing them. You can use smaller Gibson-style ones made of aluminium, locking buttons, custom buttons made out of wood, graphite, etc ... it’s your guitar, and you decide what to use. But do yourself a favor and replace the tiny screws with heavier ones at this spot—better safe than sorry! The stock strap buttons came with a small ring of black felt to protect the body from any imprints, so it’s your call whether you reinstall or remove them. For a more classic look, I decided to remove them.
To break the shiny chromed surface of the stock strap buttons, you can again use some steel wool, abrasive cloth, or go the chemical route. Here are two other easy techniques you can use on chrome or nickel guitar hardware.
1. Alternative mechanical methods
Collect a nice mixture of nails, metal parts, broken glass, gravel, sand, little stones, etc., and put this mixture into a small box or a bucket with a lid. Put the hardware inside, close the lid, and shake the hell out of it for a couple minutes to create some nice random scratches, dings, and bumps on the metal parts. The longer you shake, the more weathered it will look. Check the result after a few minutes, and if you want more scratches, keep on shaking.
If you don’t want to shake by hand or plan to do this regularly, I recommend a small stone tumbler like we have in the shop. Usually, they’re used for polishing, which is exactly the opposite of what we want to do, but loading it with our mixture from above will work perfectly for relic’ing metal hardware. When you’re pleased with the result, take the hardware out of the box or tumbler tube, and use a soft brush to clean off any dust.
2. Alternative chemical method
Place the hardware on some old newspapers, put on some gloves and goggles, and put iron (III) oxide (ferric oxide) liquid on the hardware with a Q-tip. Watch carefully, and if you like what you see, stop the process by wiping the liquid off the object with a wet cloth or paper towel, or run it under cold water.
Next month, we’ll work on the rest of our Telecaster’s hardware. I calculated $25 for a new pickguard and another $10 for the stainless-steel screws, so our budget is down to $305 for future investments. Stay tuned, and until then ... keep on modding!
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