Photo 1 — Though it could present a challenge when palm muting, the bridge-integrated optical pickup on this Tom Lieber Spellbinder bass is almost fully shielded from ambient light.
I wrote a column touching on optical pickups a few years back ["Piezo and Optical Bass Pickups," October 2012], but every once in a while a new or upgraded concept enters the stage that warrants digging deeper. So, to refresh, what sets optical pickups apart from standard magnetic pickups?
Our classic combination of magnet and coil comes with a trait you can call either character or a limitation: a pickup-specific roll-off frequency that cuts off the upper range, mainly depending on the electric, magnetic, and geometric specs of the coil. Many of my non-musician friends are surprised that traditional magnetic pickups are commonly rated as low as 5 kHz, and ask why they should pay attention to the upper frequency limits when getting new hi-fi gear. Replying with "we have crash cymbals, too," is sometimes enough of an answer, but if they saw a real magnetic pickup's frequency-response curve, their hi-fi world would simply collapse. And—especially unfortunate for us bassists—these classic, magnetic designs also have limits in their lower frequency response.
Piezo pickups breaks these barriers on both ends of the spectrum. However, piezos often come with a rather harsh and dominating upper end that's not always pleasing to everyone's ears—especially when used with steel strings.
It may come as a surprise to some, but optical pickups actually first appeared in 1969 at the summer NAMM show in Chicago.
This is where optical pickups chime in. It may come as a surprise to some, but optical pickups actually first appeared in 1969 at the summer NAMM show in Chicago. A patent was granted to inventor Ron Hoag in 1973, but with Hoag's eventual retirement and his patents running out, the only optical pickups on the market in recent years have been made by LightWave Systems, for exclusive use in their own line of basses. However, this was different in their early years, when Lieber Guitars collaborated with Stanley Clarke and equipped a Spellbinder bass in 2001 with LightWave's bridge and massive circuit board (Photos 1 and 2).
One of the basic advantages of optical pickups is that their frequency range is theoretically unlimited—far out on both ends of our audible spectrum. Our hi-fi friends would be overwhelmed by the frequency response curve. And while every magnetic pickup sucks vibrational energy out of our strings—whether we switch them on or not—there is no interference between the pickup and string in any form with optical pickups (theoretical radiation or light pressure aside, of course).
In the same way we have different types of magnetic pickups with different electric and magnetic arrangements, there are also specifics that set optical pickups apart from each other. They all require some basics, like a light source and a light sensor, and can operate with visible or invisible and wide or extremely limited frequency ranges of light, but there are some basic constructional differences.
Early LightWave pickup systems came with a huge circuit board that didn't leave much wood on the backside.
Photo by Milo Stewart Jr.
Until recently, all available optical pickups were built for "transmission" mode, which is an arrangement where the source and sensor are on opposing sides of the string. What the sensor "sees" is the varying amount of shade from the vibrating string. Sounds simple, but the problem here is the positioning and calibration of the elements. As the string vibrates, there shouldn't be a complete coverage of light on the sensor. The result would be comparable to common clipping and you can't simply blow up the sensor's area to allow for more amplitude since your signal-to-noise ratio goes down significantly. The amplitude limits are why these pickups are often positioned close to—or even built into—the bridge and fully covered to shield them from ambient light. Worth noting is that even though the pickup elements are actually rather small, the large-ish covers required for shielding can get in the way when palm muting.
Light can sense all kinds of magnetic or non-magnetic string materials, so it's easy to switch between roundwound, flats, or even nylons, but this still often requires different setups. In transmission mode, you'll need to recalibrate whenever you're switching string gauges or readjust the bridge to optimize source and sensor usage. That said, the LightWave system's internal circuitry nowadays can support this setup process with LEDs that shine when the bridge sensors are correctly adjusted.
A second optical-pickup construction and design arrangement is called "reflection" mode, which we'll discuss next month. Reflection mode does make some of the aforementioned transmission-mode drawbacks easier to deal with, but the arrangement also comes with a load of new drawbacks of its own.- How NOT to Play Bass like a Guitar Player Playing Bass ›
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- A Closer Look at Optical Pickups - Premier Guitar ›
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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.
Keith Urban has spent decades traveling the world and topping global country-music charts, and on this episode of Wong Notes, the country-guitar hero tells host Cory Wong how he conquered the world—and what keeps him chasing new sounds on his 6-string via a new record, High, which releases on September 20.
Urban came up as guitarist and singer at the same time, and he details how his playing and singing have always worked as a duet in service of the song: “When I stop singing, [my guitar] wants to say something, and he says it in a different way.” Those traits served him well when he made his move into the American music industry, a story that begins in part with a fateful meeting with a 6-string banjo in a Nashville music store in 1995.
It’s a different world for working musicians now, and Urban weighs in on the state of radio, social media, and podcasts for modern guitarists, but he still believes in word-of-mouth over the algorithm when it comes to discovering exciting new players.
And in case you didn’t know, Keith Urban is a total gearhead. He shares his essential budget stomps and admits he’s a pedal hound, chasing new sounds week in and week out, but what role does new gear play in his routine? Urban puts it simply: “I’m not chasing tone, I’m pursuing inspiration.”
