The “mystery wood” warriors of yesterday and today.
Defying a trend can be dangerous. Not because you could be ostracized from society, but because chances are you’re just hopping on the next bandwagon. From beatnik-bongo berets to hippie beads to suspenders, and from banjos to handcrafted IPA, it’s all crowd-sourced individualism. Welcome to the new mainstream: Metal is background music in the grocery store, and cheap ’60s department store guitars are collector’s items.
I have long sung the praises of the lo-fi budget guitars of my youth. I attended the auction of the Harmony factory decades ago, and spent many evenings on Chicago’s South Side admiring the ragged glory of underclass 6-string creations in the hands of first-class bluesmen long before it became fashionable.
Cutting my musical teeth on Chi-Town’s blues circuit, I struggled to play in tune alongside legit Pepper’s Lounge alumni as they coaxed glorious sounds from their Masonite and plywood 6-strings. The pay was low and the stakes were high as pistols were brandished in small closets that served as dressing rooms.
These players were not aficionados of fine lutherie, but what did they do as soon as they had a little coin? They bought “proper” guitars and ruined it all. So as hedge fund 6-string slingers scarf up the blue-chip Gibbos, and the last of the millionaire baby boom blues born-agains fawn over ’50s Fenders, we look back to Chicago’s Maxwell Street for our next fad.
Every guitarist can trace his or her infatuation with guitar back to a single moment in time. Whether it’s a sound or the sight of an instrument, it’s etched into our subconscious. Mark Knopfler recalls a red Hank Marvin Stratocaster in his hometown shop’s window. Producer/guitarist Eric Ambel remembers his parents laughing at the Beatles while he was thunderstruck by their sound on the Ed Sullivan show. For me, it was a camp counselor’s electric guitar and strains of “Greensleeves” echoing in a school gymnasium.
In a way, we are all trying to recreate that first blush. We’re continually chasing that high we felt when the guitar made its mark on us. But over time our memory shifts. It’s like the old saying: “The older I get, the better I was.” And to further complicate things, we’ve all had multiple experiences where a guitar tone has bowled us over, be it from Django, T-Bone, Bloomfield, Clapton, Allman, Hendrix, Van Halen, or Holdsworth—the list goes on and on. These touchstone moments have created a lexicon of sounds for generations, but the lexicon hasn’t stopped evolving. Like Sisyphus, are we doomed to pursue phantom tones in a Möbius strip of third-party parts shopping? Will no amount of pickup swapping and capacitor changing ever hit a target that’s constantly moving and morphing?
Additionally, economics have been shifting the landscape around us. The handmade, classic instruments made from old-growth woods have been steadily climbing in price since the 1970s, and modern recreations aren’t inexpensive either. It’s difficult to find a 1950s or ’60s instrument for a working musician’s wage unless you turn to student guitars from the likes of Silvertone, Harmony, and Kay. But wait, you say they’re making those guitars again? The “mystery wood” warriors of yesteryear have increased in value to the point where new production is viable.
I believe the movement gently began with Jerry Jones’s Danelectro recreations in the 1980s. In an inspired stroke, Jones saw the need to resurrect the designs of the low-budget past with nicely upgraded versions of the originals aimed at a more professional clientele. It was a small market at the time, since most of the industry was looking the other way. But despite being somewhat pricey, Jones’s guitars were embraced by Nashville pros and recording artists in all genres.
Then came the first warning shot. I recall seeing the new Danelectro guitars at the NAMM show in the ’90s. At around $300 list, the seemed to be coveted by everyone, and I wondered what Jerry Jones would do. By 2011 he had retired and closed his Nashville workshop.
Slowly, over the last 20 or so years, the appeal of the “weirdo” guitar style of the 1960s has grown, driven by young artists bucking the trend of mainstream and boutique guitars. Offshore production of “tribute” instruments from several companies has made budget prices possible, but with improved build quality. All of a sudden, standing out from the crowd didn’t mean you had to endure low-end playability.
The gold-standard sounds that have been in play for the last five decades were created with instruments of old wood and rare materials, some of which are now restricted by law. It seems a perfect time for alternative materials (and sounds) to come of age, and the mystery wood models fill the bill.
It’s Day 10 of Stompboxtober! Today’s prize from Truetone could be yours. Enter now and come back daily for more prizes!
Truetone 1 Spot Pro XP5-PS 5-output Low-profile Isolated Guitar Pedal Power Supply
The XP5-PS is a package containing the 1 Spot Pro XP5, along with a 12Vdc 2.5A adapter, which allows you to power the XP5 without having a CS11. The adapter comes with an array of international plugs so that you can take it with your pedalboard anywhere in the world. Some musicians may even choose to get one of these, plus another XP5, to distribute their power around the pedalboard and have the dual XP5s acting as two pedal risers.
A more affordable path to satisfying your 1176 lust.
An affordable alternative to Cali76 and 1176 comps that sounds brilliant. Effective, satisfying controls.
Big!
$269
Warm Audio Pedal76
warmaudio.com
Though compressors are often used to add excitement to flat tones, pedal compressors for guitar are often … boring. Not so theWarm Audio Pedal76. The FET-driven, CineMag transformer-equipped Pedal76 is fun to look at, fun to operate, and fun to experiment with. Well, maybe it’s not fun fitting it on a pedalboard—at a little less than 6.5” wide and about 3.25” tall, it’s big. But its potential to enliven your guitar sounds is also pretty huge.
Warm Audio already builds a very authentic and inexpensive clone of the Urei 1176, theWA76. But the font used for the model’s name, its control layout, and its dimensions all suggest a clone of Origin Effects’ much-admired first-generation Cali76, which makes this a sort of clone of an homage. Much of the 1176’s essence is retained in that evolution, however. The Pedal76 also approximates the 1176’s operational feel. The generous control spacing and the satisfying resistance in the knobs means fast, precise adjustments, which, in turn, invite fine-tuning and experimentation.
Well-worn 1176 formulas deliver very satisfying results from the Pedal76. The 10–2–4 recipe (the numbers correspond to compression ratio and “clock” positions on the ratio, attack, and release controls, respectively) illuminates lifeless tones—adding body without flab, and an effervescent, sparkly color that preserves dynamics and overtones. Less subtle compression tricks sound fantastic, too. Drive from aggressive input levels is growling and thick but retains brightness and nuance. Heavy-duty compression ratios combined with fast attack and slow release times lend otherworldly sustain to jangly parts. Impractically large? Maybe. But I’d happily consider bumping the rest of my gain devices for the Pedal76.
Check out our demo of the Reverend Vernon Reid Totem Series Shaman Model! John Bohlinger walks you through the guitar's standout features, tones, and signature style.
Reverend Vernon Reid Totem Series Electric Guitar - Shaman
Vernon Reid Totem Series, ShamanWith three voices, tap tempo, and six presets, EQD’s newest echo is an affordable, approachable master of utility.
A highly desirable combination of features and quality at a very fair price. Nice distinctions among delay voices. Controls are clear, easy to use, and can be effectively manipulated on the fly.
Analog voices may lack complexity to some ears.
$149
EarthQuaker Silos
earthquakerdevices.com
There is something satisfying, even comforting, about encountering a product of any kind that is greater than the sum of its parts—things that embody a convergence of good design decisions, solid engineering, and empathy for users that considers their budgets and real-world needs. You feel some of that spirit inEarthQuaker’s new Silos digital delay. It’s easy to use, its tone variations are practical and can provoke very different creative reactions, and at $149 it’s very inexpensive, particularly when you consider its utility.
Silos features six presets, tap tempo, one full second of delay time, and three voices—two of which are styled after bucket-brigade and tape-delay sounds. In the $150 price category, it’s not unusual for a digital delay to leave some number of those functions out. And spending the same money on a true-analog alternative usually means warm, enveloping sounds but limited functionality and delay time. Silos, improbably perhaps, offers a very elegant solution to this can’t-have-it-all dilemma in a U.S.-made effect.
A More Complete Cobbling Together
Silos’ utility is bolstered by a very unintimidating control set, which is streamlined and approachable. Three of those controls are dedicated to the same mix, time, and repeats controls you see on any delay. But saving a preset to one of the six spots on the rotary preset dial is as easy as holding the green/red illuminated button just below the mix and preset knobs. And you certainly won’t get lost in the weeds if you move to the 3-position toggle, which switches between a clear “digital” voice, darker “analog” voice, and a “tape” voice which is darker still.
“The three voices offer discernibly different response to gain devices.”
One might suspect that a tone control for the repeats offers similar functionality as the voice toggle switch. But while it’s true that the most obvious audible differences between digital, BBD, and tape delays are apparent in the relative fidelity and darkness of their echoes, the Silos’ three voices behave differently in ways that are more complex than lighter or duskier tonality. For instance, the digital voice will never exhibit runaway oscillation, even at maximum mix and repeat settings. Instead, repeats fade out after about six seconds (at the fastest time settings) or create sleepy layers of slow-decaying repeats that enhance detail in complex, sprawling, loop-like melodic phrases. The analog voice and tape voice, on the other hand, will happily feed back to psychotic extremes. Both also offer satisfying sensitivity to real-time, on-the-fly adjustments. For example, I was tickled with how I could generate Apocalypse Now helicopter-chop effects and fade them in and out of prominence as if they were approaching or receding in proximity—an effect made easier still if you assign an expression pedal to the mix control. This kind of interactivity is what makes analog machines like the Echoplex, Space Echo, and Memory Man transcend mere delay status, and the sensitivity and just-right resistance make the process of manipulating repeats endlessly engaging.
Doesn't Flinch at Filth
EarthQuaker makes a point of highlighting the Silos’ affinity for dirty and distorted sounds. I did not notice that it behaved light-years better than other delays in this regard. But the three voices most definitely offer discernibly different responses to gain devices. The super-clear first repeat in the digital mode lends clarity and melodic focus, even to hectic, unpredictable, fractured fuzzes. The analog voice, which EQD says is inspired by the tone makeup of a 1980s-vintage, Japan-made KMD bucket brigade echo, handles fuzz forgivingly inasmuch as its repeats fade warmly and evenly, but the strong midrange also keeps many overtones present as the echoes fade. The tape voice, which uses aMaestro Echoplex as its sonic inspiration, is distinctly dirtier and creates more nebulous undercurrents in the repeats. If you want to retain clarity in more melodic settings, it will create a warm glow around repeats at conservative levels. Push it, and it will summon thick, sometimes droning haze that makes a great backdrop for slower, simpler, and hooky psychedelic riffs.
In clean applications, this decay and tone profile lend the tape setting a spooky, foggy aura that suggests the cold vastness of outer space. The analog voice often displays an authentic BBD clickiness in clean repeats that’s sweet for underscoring rhythmic patterns, while the digital voice’s pronounced regularity adds a clockwork quality that supports more up-tempo, driving, electronic rhythms.
The Verdict
Silos’ combination of features seems like a very obvious and appealing one. But bringing it all together at just less than 150 bucks represents a smart, adept threading of the cost/feature needle.