Since it was first introduced in 1958, Vox has released myriad iterations of the AC15 combo—built variously in England and Asia, and offered in both hand-wired and PCB formats. The new AC15 Hand-Wired suggests a strictly old-school ethos, but several of its features—most notably a move from EF86 to 12AX7 preamp tubes—are deviations from vintage form. That does result in a different feel in some situations; at times it sounds and feels more like a half-power, 1x12 AC30 than a vintage AC15. But this iteration is arguably more flexible than its predecessor, too.
Channel Crossing
Given the microphonic tendencies of EF86 tubes, the switch to 12AX7s is an intriguing and practical move. Elsewhere among the tube complement, there’s a 12AT7 for the preamp and phase-inverter, two EL84s in the output stage for 15 watts RMS, and a GZ34 tube rectifier. It’s all housed in a classic Vox combo cab measuring 22 1/4"x23 1/4"x1 1/2".
The AC15 Hand-Wired’s normal channel has just a single knob for volume. But its voicing can be tweaked via a bright switch and the tone cut knob in the master section, and there’s also a boost switch to increase gain. The top boost channel features volume and dedicated treble and bass controls, but no boost or bright switch. Both channels have high and low inputs, and the latter can be handy for taming hot humbucker-equipped guitars.
The fine-tuning capabilities of the amp extend to the footswitchable, tube-driven, spring reverb circuit, which has a tone control in addition to its level, enabling you to fine-tune the frequency emphasis of the reverb itself. Send and return jacks for the effects loop—along with a bypass switch and a –10/+4 dB level switch for compatibility with both rack and pedal effects—are smartly positioned along the lower edge of the upper-back panel, rather than on the underside of the chassis. Dual speaker-outs have an impedance switch for 8- and 16-ohm operation. (The combo’s Vox-labeled Celestion Alnico Blue requires the latter.)
Vox was careful to reproduce the windings of a vintage AC15 output transformer circa 1963, which results in a heftier chunk of metal than you might expect in an amp this size. Vox makes up some of that weight by using slightly thinner plywood for the cabinet walls, which are just less than 1/2" in thickness—matching vintage specifications and, in Vox’s estimation, enhancing resonance and dimensionality. As with many AC15s past, the transformer and alnico speaker help push this new edition to 50 lbs, making for a surprisingly heavy combo of this size and output power. It might have been nice for Vox to slim things down. On the other hand, the amp might lose what turns out to be a strong, audible vintage spirit without those heavier design elements.
Chiming In
Paired with a Gibson ES-335 and a FenderTelecaster, the AC15 Hand-Wired plated up many impressive slices of vintage Vox tone, with plenty more versatility on top. With all knobs at noon and the boost and bright switches on the normal channel engaged, the two channels sound remarkably similar. There might be just a touch more grind and sparkle on the top boost side, but it’s close! At these levels, both channels still summon plenty of break up with a Telecaster. Switching to the ES-335’s humbuckers predictably kicks the overdrive up a notch at the same settings.
The boost switch on the normal channel isn’t always a breeze to manage. It delivers a pretty big jump in gain and, with it, a slightly ragged edge at some settings. With both boost and bright switches down, though, the normal channel is rich, warm, and muscular, and makes an excellent, adaptable platform for gain pedals (in my case an Analogman Prince of Tone and a Wampler Tumnus Deluxe). Knock this normal channel volume up to around 2 o’clock and it segues into toothsome sounds that dip into clipping under heavier pick attack.
Arguably the most delectable tones are found in the top boost channel with all three knobs set to around 11 o’clock. Here, the AC15 Hand-Wired achieves its closest approximation of vintage Vox tone: chewy midrange, lots of chime and sparkle in the highs, and a dynamic edge-of-breakup touch sensitivity that you can control and vary via pick attack. Cranked up, the top boost channel roars with a throaty, shimmery vintage lead tone, although at the expense of the delectable dimension and clarity achieved at lower volumes.
The amp’s master volume, by the way, is very effective at tailoring the AC15 Hand-Wired for a range of room requirements, and is essential for smaller venues. This amp is loud when maxed—probably a lot louder than you’d expect from a 15-watt 1x12" combo—which is another classic characteristic of the AC15. It’s worth noting that things can get a little ratty with the master below 10 o’clock and either channel volume up high, but that’s par for the course with such circuits.
The Verdict
Vox’s new AC15 Hand-Wired combo does a good job of capturing much of the vintage-voiced spirit of the classic while offering many features that are must-haves for modern guitarists less burdened by complete vintage correctness. And if it’s not a point-perfect reproduction, it honors the sound and spirit of the original—and looks the part onstage, too.
Khruangbin is a band that moves freely in negative space. They don’t deal in negative vibes, mind you, but the spaces in between objects—or in music, between notes and tones. In Khruangbin’s case, negative space isn’t quite as empty as it seems. In fact, a lot of it is colored with reverberated overtones, which is an aesthetic well suited to Mark Speer’s instrument of choice. Because if you want to color negative space without being a space hog, there are few better means than a Stratocaster.
Speer’s signature Stratocaster, is not, in the strictest sense, a classically Strat-like specimen. Its bridge and neck pickups, after all, are DiMarzio Pro Track humbuckers, with a design informed more by PAFs than Fender single coils. Nor is it modeled after a priceless rarity. Speer’s main guitar is a humble ’72 Stratocaster reissue from the early 2000’s. But the Speer signature Stratocaster is a thought-provoking twist on classic “Stratocaster-ness,” and one well-suited to the atmospherics that mark Khruangbin’s music, but also soul, reggae, jazz, and any other expression where clarity and substance are critical.
Mr. Natural Takes It In Stride
I have to admit—and no doubt some of you will disagree—for most of my life, as an early- to mid-1960s-oriented aesthete, an all-natural-finished Strat with an oversized headstock looked flat-out wrong. My opinion on the matter has softened a bit since. And I think the Speer Stratocaster is beautiful, elegant, and does much the flatter the Strat profile. The pronounced grain in the ash body is lovely, and it certainly doesn’t reflect the drop in ash quality that many feared when ash-boring beetles started to decimate swamp ash supplies. It also looks great against the milk-white single-ply white pickguard and all-white knobs (another nice study in negative space).
Elsewhere, many features are authentically 1972. The 1-piece, 3-bolt maple neck with a 7.25" fretboard radius boasts a micro-neck-adjust feature as well as the practical and cool-looking bullet truss rod. The tuners also feature early ’70s-styled machine covers. The neck itself feels great—slightly less chunky, perhaps, than early ’70s Strats I’ve played, and, oddly, not worlds apart from the neck on my Mexico-made ’72 Telecaster Deluxe, which has a much flatter 12" radius. Some of the similarities in feel may have to do with the jumbo frets, which here give the gloss urethane fretboard a slinky, easy touch. Less delicate players (like me) who tend to squeeze when chording should check out the Speer before purchasing to make sure they don’t pull everything sharp. The frets do make string bends feel breezy, though. Other details, apart from the jumbo frets, that deviate a bit from 1972 Fender spec include a bone nut and Graphtec saddles and string trees.
Warmth of the Sun
The DiMarzio Pro Tracks dwell in an interesting tone space. They’re built with ceramic magnets (vintage Strat and Gibson PAFS were made with alnico magnets) with a resistance of about 7.7 k ohms, which is in the range of a vintage PAF humbucker but hotter than most vintage Stratocaster pickups. In terms of tone signature, they sound and respond a little more like PAFs than Stratocaster pickups, too, which aligns with DiMarzio’s design objectives. But in the neck pickup in particular, the Strat-iness is very present. And when I switched back and forth between a Stratocaster and PAF-equipped SG as baselines for comparison, I marveled at how well the DiMarzios retained qualities of both. It’s hard to know how much Fender’s 25 1/2" scale factors into lending the extra bit of Fender color. But the sound is distinctly, authentically, Speer-like. (For the record, I replicated much of Speer’s circa 2018 signal chain for this test, including a Fender Deluxe Reverb, Dunlop Cry Baby, Boss PH-3 and DS-1, MXR DynaComp, and a Echoplex-style pedal).
The PAF qualities of the DiMarzios are most pronounced in the bridge pickup, which is much burlier and thicker than a Stratocaster single coil. The one single coil on the guitar meanwhile, the middle pickup, will sound and feel familiar to any old-school Stratocaster player. It’s also perfect for chasing Jerry Garcia tones if you’re selecting the Speer for its likeness to Jer’s “Alligator.” The real treat among the Speer’s many sounds, though, is the number 4 position, which combines the neck pickup and middle pickup out of phase. It’s snarky, super-focused, and just a little bit nasty, especially with overdrive and treble bump from either a wah, OD, or boost pedal.
The Verdict
For those players who fall in love with the comfort, feel, and looks of a Stratocaster, only to find it a bit thin-sounding for their purposes, the Mark Speer Stratocaster is an intriguing option. The humbuckers deftly thread the needle between Stratocaster and PAF tonalities, with a distinct lean toward the latter, and the out-of-phase number 4 position is a cool sound that lends the Speer Strat expansive smooth-to-nasty range. Like so many Mexico-made Fenders, the quality is superb. And while the $1,499 price tag represents a Signature Series bump compared to the similar $1,209 Vintera II ’70s Stratocaster, the Speer’s extra tone range and ash body do a lot to soften any sticker shock. If the options here fit your style, it could be well worth the extra dollars.
Way Huge didn’t leave much to the imagination when it branded this fuzz the Doom Hammer. But that doesn’t mean it's without surprises. Jeorge Tripp’s latest design is based on an op-amp Big Muff that he modified for a client in the 1990s—primarily with the aim to tighten the low end. You hear Tripps hit that target when you play the Doom Hammer alongside other Big Muff types, which are massive in the low end and can sound comparatively sprawling in that frequency. But rather than merely heavy, the Doom Hammer’s combination of taut lows and the pronounced midrange one associates with op-amp Big Muffs is nasty, buzzy, punky, and brash. For all the desert-rock swagger in the name, the Doom Hammer is just as effective at lending contrast to heavy bass in a mix. And for any stoner rock power trio that has had to work against a wall of bottom-end sludge on stage or in the studio, it’s a practical and intriguing solution.
Fire Breather
Though it’s not hard to hear Big Muff lineage in the Doom Hammer, it can sound vastly different from most Muffs at identical fuzz, output, and tone levels. I didn’t have an op-amp Big Muff on hand for comparison, but in my experience with that circuit, I’ve found they have as much in common with other Big Muffs as they do differences. But Tripp’s recipe puts extra distance between them.
The Ram’s Head and Sovtek Muffs I used to A/B with the Doom Hammer, for instance, each exhibited the creaminess in low-midrange frequencies that makes David Gilmour obsessives ecstatic—particularly with the tone control at more modest levels. The Doom Hammer, however, sometimes has a buzz-saw aggressiveness that evokes a 1960s transistor fuzz swinging on a wrecking ball. And at low output and advanced fuzz levels it can quite convincingly play the part of Tone Bender. More modest fuzz and tone settings strike a more even balance between classic, buttery Big Muff sustain sounds and buzzier ones. And here it’s great for cooking up Carlos Santana and John McLaughlin’s questing lead tangles and Robert Fripp’s snaky synth-like lines. Indeed, the Doom Hammer, for all its midrange emphasis, can be flexible and adaptable.
The Doom Hammer, however, sometimes has a buzz-saw aggressiveness that evokes a 1960s transistor fuzz swinging on a wrecking ball.
Playing a bit more in the spirit of the Doom Hammer’s name (with an SG in drop-D, ’natch) I was still struck by how much less bossy it is in the bass range than a Ram’s Head or Sovtek. But again, this can be an ideal recipe for adding punchy contrast to the bass bomb coming from your bandmate’s Rickenbacker 4003 and Orange stack. It lends snarling aggression to big dumb rock riffs and drones, and detuned guitars sound less buried in blunted, washy overtones.
The Verdict
Jeorge Tripps’ knack for spinning new magic around fuzz formulas—whether with the wild Way Huge Atreides or the more straight-ahead Swollen Pickle—is a gift to fuzz freaks. Because, let’s face it, sometimes ferocious barrages of distortion can start to blur when ears are tired and you’re on the hunt for a different path. The Doom Hammer’s tight bass, and the resulting more prominent midrange, offer a discernibly different texture to work with, however, all while retaining the essential mass and menace that draws a player to a Big Muff in the first place.
The bedroom or the garage: In a game of Family Feud, those humble locations would likely be the top answers for the question “Where do music careers begin?’ I was relegated to the latter for the sake of my parents’ sanity. But nothing stops a career cold like a garage in winter, so an amp that ensures you can sound good while sharing tight quarters is a truly valuable thing. Blackstar Amplification’s Debut Bass 25 fits that bill.
Small for All
The Debut Bass 25’s small-space friendliness starts with its compact footprint. At 14" high and less than 10" deep, it’s unobtrusive to say the least. The control panel, with just volume, low, mid, and high EQ controls as well as a push-button boost, is about as simple as they come. The knobs themselves are smooth and accurate, with the feel of a high-end amplifier. Two 1/8" jacks accommodate headphones and an aux in for running backing tracks. And for additional tone shaping and punch, Blackstar included an OD switch that adds more depth.
Sings at Sensible Volumes
I tried out the Debut 25 using a Bluesman Vintage El Dorado (a passive J-style bass) and a Warwick Streamer I with active pickups. Beginning in more traditional style with the El Dorado, I set the volume relatively low and the EQ controls around the mid-point in their range. Here, I was struck by how fully the sound enveloped me—and by the amp’s ability to preserve the El Dorado’s character with such clarity. By dialing the midrange back a couple notches, and boosting the bass by the same amount, I found a sweet spot that made the El Dorado sing—all at a volume suited for the woodshed.
When the OD switch is engaged, the EQ is still effective and can shape big tones that move from swampy to in-your-face.
Active pickups pair nicely with the Debut 25 too, if the Warwick is any indication. I remained impressed with the range within the EQ controls. With the Warwick, the most pleasing tones came with the high-frequency control kept below halfway—push it much further, and things get a little too crisp for my taste. When the OD switch is engaged, the EQ is still effective and can shape big tones that move from swampy to in-your-face. The amp can also be loud with or without the OD in the mix. More than once, I had to remind myself that the amp only houses an 8" speaker, because when I turned the volume up my floor was quite literally shaking.
The Verdict
I’m glad the Debut 25 found its way to me. I confess, I haven’t plugged into a low-watt practice amp in a very long time, and all I can say is that I wish an amp this small, powerful, and tonally rich had been available when I was starting out. My only gripe might be the absence of a dedicated XLR out, which would extend the amp’s utility in live situations where sound re-enforcement is available. And while its modest $299 price tag is a bit higher than some of its competition, the Debut 25 is anything but ordinary. It offers a wide range of tonal colors, and can hold its own at any volume, whether you’re in the garage, bedroom, or beyond.
Darkglass Electronics is a bass player’s company. And like many bass-centric brands, they sometimes seem determined to ensure that guitar players aren’t the only ones having fun when it comes to amps and effects. If that’s true, the DSP-driven Anagram may be their most impressive form of revenge yet.
All The Things, All So Small
The Anagram is a sleek unit with just three footswitches and six knobs above the touch screen. Plug in the unit (there’s no on/off) and the screen lights up, welcoming you to your journey. It’s an inviting interface, and it’s hard to avoid the impulse to just start tapping and scrolling.
Connection options are plentiful: There’s a send and return that can be configured as a stereo effects loop or a mono loop and expression pedal input, a 1/8" headphone jack, and a USB-C port along with two 1/8" MIDI ports for connecting an external MIDI controller and sending MIDI. Four outputs take up half of the back panel, with two XLRs and two 1/4" jacks.
Looking Through the Darkglass
There are 19 pages of tutorial you can scan on the touch screen after the initial power up, but that shouldn’t be discouraging. The Anagram is, in general, easy to grasp. There are three modes that can be used to navigate its many features. Preset mode uses footswitches to move between presets, though there will be an audible gap when you switch between them. Stomp mode allows you to use the footswitches to toggle between three virtual stompoxes within a preset, so you can, for instance, use the chorus on a bridge and overdrive for your bass solo. The deeper scene mode enables you to seamlessly switch between scenes, which can include completely different groups of pedals and settings. Think of it as an octopus switching multiple stomps and turning knobs for you all at once.
Three screen views are available: chain, bindings, and name. Chain view provides the most pedalboard-like representation of the signal path. This is where you can manage and route your preset’s effects in an efficient, more “analog” way. It’s intuitive and the most direct way to create a preset from scratch or reshape an existing one. Bindings mode allows access to parameters within a preset and enables you to assign the most critical controls to the six knobs at the top of the Anagram. Name mode displays—you guessed it—the name of the active preset. It’s the easiest readout to see in a low-light stage setting. But if any of the individual views don’t serve your purposes, the modes can be combined in multiple configurations.
The Anagram makes editing global settings a breeze. Hold down the sixth knob to enter mixer mode, where you can control the L/R and XLR outputs—either individually or linked for consistent volume—as well as the headphone and master outputs. Tapping the “EQ” box in this screen takes you to the very precise global EQ, where you can adjust gain, width, and frequency in a range from 25 Hz to 16.0kHz.
Ana-tons of Tone
With more than 50 effects (Darkglass says that thousands of additional effects and amps are available via integration with the Neural Amp Modeler), Anagram's factory presets are a great place to begin exploration. I jumped down the rabbit hole starting with Factory preset 01—“harmonic booster.”In this preset, there are six elements in the chain, and when one of the six knobs along the top row are pressed, the corresponding effect goes dark, signaling that the effect is off. The same six knobs also control user-defined parameters within the effect, or a virtual speaker cab, if you switch one into the chain. Once you’re happy with your tweaks, you tap the three dots on the touch screen and save the preset. It’s really simple. Swapping effects within a preset is just as quick—tap the pedal icon you want to change, and you’ll jump straight to its edit screen.
While the sounds are superb, the Anagram truly shines in its ease of programmability and the precision with which you can switch things up.
Paired with my passive, J-bass-style Bluesman Vintage Eldorado, the harmonic booster preset was enough to make my day. Though there are 12 effect blocks available—or 24 in parallel—in that preset, only five are used in its factory preset form, permitting me to add rich chorus and octave to the already satisfying tone. The depth of familiar effects and amps is impressive. With searing overdrives, signature Darkglass pedals, and a super-wide range of bass-centric effects, I was like a kid in a candy store. And there are also 20 cab options and a boatload of mic options that can be situated in different positions relative to the cab. The options are seemingly endless.
The Verdict
The Anagram is ideal in a lot of settings. For fly dates, it’s compact and easy to re-program if, say, you add a new song to the set on a whim. Provided there is a proper P.A., the unit is truly all you need to get the job done. Able to run the gamut of vintage and modern sounds, it could be a cover-band bass player’s best friend. And while the sounds are superb, the Anagram truly shines in its ease of programmability and the precision with which you can switch things up. From an economic standpoint, the Anagram is the equivalent of purchasing several traditional floor pedals … and then getting hundreds more for free. At just under $1,200, that’s math that makes sense.