fender twin reverb
Veteran members of Melbourne’s heavy music scene came together in 2017 to form Tropical Fuck Storm. From left to right: guitarist/vocalist Erica Dunn, guitarist/vocalist Gareth "Gaz" Liddiard, bassist/vocalist Fiona Kitschin, and drummer Lauren Hammel.
Created from “acts of desperation,” the inventive Australian rock band’s new release upends the idea of the traditional covers record.
In June 2021, while the pandemic was raging worldwide, Gareth “Gaz” Liddiard, who was isolating during one of Melbourne’s many lockdowns, decided he wanted to cover a Jimi Hendrix song. But the vocalist and guitarist for Australia’s Tropical Fuck Storm didn’t want to cover one of the legend’s hits. “I thought, ‘Let’s do a Hendrix song, but what’s the most ridiculous and ambitious one?’” he recalls. He ultimately decided that Hendrix’s “1983 (A Merman I Should Turn To Be)” fit the bill.
The cover is now the centerpiece of Submersive Behavior, the band’s latest release. The Hendrix version of “1983” clocks in at about 13 minutes and features the kind of guitar histrionics one would expect from the legendary guitarist. Tropical Fuck Storm’s version of “1983” is an epic 18-minute swatch of sonic surrealism that honors the original, but also leans heavily on their own energetic style. From Liddiard’s opening guitar salvo, through the acid-trip, synth-psych middle section, the spirit of Hendrix is heartwarmingly embraced, and raucously and inventively reimagined.
1983 (A Merman I Should Turn To Be)
Submersive Behavior is the latest entry in a growing catalog marked by fearless choices. The band’s 2018 debut album, A Laughing Death in Meatspace, was a singular-sounding mashup of post-punk and psychedelia driven mightily by the crafty guitar work of Liddiard and the band’s other guitarist, Erica Dunn. 2019’s Braindrops further solidified their reputation as one of Australia’s most innovative and boundary-busting exports. It featured an eclectic mix of genres and unconventional song structures, laced with the duo’s now-signature effects-saturated, experimentally recorded guitar sounds. With Submersive Behavior, Tropical Fuck Storm is pushing the envelope yet again, this time by gutting and reconstructing the once tried-and-true covers-record concept.
Gareth "Gaz" Liddiard's Gear
Gareth “Gaz” Liddiard says the vast Western Australian desert is one of his biggest influences. Growing up, he didn’t know if he’d ever get out of it.
Photo by Mike White
Guitars
- Fender Jaguars with humbuckers
- 1967 Guild Starfire
- Gibson ES-335 with Bigsby
Amps
- Fender Twin Reverb
- Fender Hot Rod DeVilles
- ’60s and ’70s Goldentone amplifiers
- ’70s and ’80s boom boxes in studio
Effects
- 4MS Mr. Ugly
- Bananana Effects AURORA
- Boss LS-2 Line Selector
- DOD Overdrive Preamp 250
- Jackson Audio 1484 Twin Twelve
- Line 6 HX Stomp XL
- Meris Ottobit
- Mid-Fi Electronics Magick “i”
- Montreal Assembly Count to 5
- ProCo Fat Rat
Strings and Picks
- Dunlop Tortex Standard Picks, .88mm
- Ernie Ball 2627 Beefy Slinky .011–.054
Aside from their own self-described “deranged spins” on “1983” and the Stooges’ “Ann,” the other three songs on the 36-minute EP are originals, credited, tongue-in-cheek, to fictitious bands like Men Men Menstruation and Compliments to the Chef. “Those are some of the band names that we used for our first four gigs,” explains Liddiard. “Since we just had that Hendrix song [for Submersive Behavior], and it’s 18 minutes long, it needed a B side, so that’s why you see some pretend band names on the album cover.” Even the title, Submersive Behavior, accurately sums up just how effective Tropical Fuck Storm is at bucking the status quo.
To color outside of the lines has been the band’s inheritance from the beginning. They formed in Melbourne, Australia in 2017, shortly after Liddiard’s previous band, the Drones, went on hiatus. Veteran musicians from Melbourne’s heavy music scene fill out the band, with fellow Drones alum Fiona Kitschin on bass and vocals, Mod Con’s Dunn on guitar and vocals, and drummer Lauren Hammel from High Tension. By combining elements of their previous endeavors, including rock, punk, and experimental music, and spearheaded by lightning-rod lyrics addressing climate change, political corruption, and societal unrest, Tropical Fuck Storm quickly developed a reputation for their musically chaotic live performances and unapologetic worldview.
“There’s lots of bands with guitars and it’s good. But other things, you just go, ‘What the fuck?’ Something’s really happening and it’s that almost careening-out-of-control thing.”
Dunn says restrictions imposed by the lockdown, like having to isolate from one another, set creative parameters that played a big part in the cultivation and evolution of the original material on Submersive Behavior. Liddiard had a hard drive full of jams that the band had shelved as “fuck-ups,” and when he had nothing else to do, he combed back through them, grabbing program and session files that the band had forgotten about. “He was mulling over things and seeing ideas in a new light, and he kind of fell in love with a few things,” says Dunn. “So he set the beds [backing tracks], which were mostly from mistakes. We all were grateful that he went mad. I mean, we were all going mad, but he really put his energy into that. So it was cool. The lockdown was to blame for that. Or maybe we should be grateful.”
After isolating and excavating material from hard drives, Tropical Fuck Storm convened and recorded Submersive Behavior in a house that they rent outside of Melbourne. Liddiard, who does much of the band’s engineering, relied mostly on Pro Tools as his DAW of choice. “We tried Ableton, but it was just too clean,” he says. “If you turn a drum machine on and you turn a metronome on at the same time, they’ll just stay in sync forever. But when we do it in Pro Tools, if you hear a drum machine start one of our songs, if you were to set a fucking metronome in motion, it wouldn’t keep up with the song because it’s all out of whack. It’s cool. We’re the loosest electronic band in history.”
“I thought, ‘Let’s do a Hendrix song, but what’s the most ridiculous and ambitious one?’”
The ways that Liddiard and Dunn interact with each other and arrange their guitar parts is an important pillar of the Tropical Fuck Storm sound. “There was always some conscious effort to get out of each other’s way, and to know where to double down,” says Dunn. “Gaz is just this unbelievable shredder, and my work is to be the bedrock, keeping something repetitive and rhythmic. I think we’ve really got it going now, having played a lot live, and having more intuition about, ‘Well, if you are going to chuck a wheelie, I’m going to hold it down.’ We understand that balance.” Dunn says that process includes making a conscious effort to carve out different sonic territory. For Braindrops, she put all her guitars through a “crappy boom box” to further separate the quality of the guitars.
To build the Hendrix centerpiece of Submersive Behavior, the band tracked the beginning and end of “1983” first, and then recorded the tripped-out middle section separately, making use of synthesizers and “weird shit” laying around. “We didn’t want to go down the route of the Stratocaster noodling in the middle,” says Liddiard. “A friend of ours had a 7′-long spring that bolts to a wall that’s got a pickup on it. And he uses a violin bow—that’s the drone underneath. So we did that. When we cut and pasted it into the song, and it worked, I was like, ‘Wow.’”
Erica Dunn's Gear
The punny new EP, Submersive Behavior, features three new songs credited to fake bands pulled from Tropical Fuck Storm lore.
Photo by Mike White
Guitars
- Shub Jazzmaster with P-90s
- Fender Mustang
Amps
- Fender Twin Reverb
- Roland JC-120
Effects
- Electro-Harmonix Soul Food
- Gojira Fx “Mr Sparkle” Tubescreamer 808
- JHS ProCo Rat “Pack Rat”
- Pickletech Mega Berkatron
- Veternik Audio Fall Reverb
Strings and Picks
- Dunlop Tortex Standard Picks, .88mm
- Ernie Ball 2220 Power Slinky .011–.048
The idea of constructing a separate song section from odd elements, then dropping it into a quintessential classic rock song, sits well within Tropical Fuck Storm’s songwriting ethos. “We’ll try anything,” says Liddiard. “It’s always an act of desperation because when you start a record, there’s nothing. Sometimes we’ll get a drum machine or some kind of weird sampler to start us off in a way that isn’t your stock guitar or drum thing because when you sit down with a guitar and a real drum kit, you fall into habits. So if you can get a crazy little drum machine and plug it into an Eventide delay pitch shifter thing, it’ll come up with some chopped-up strange beat you would never have thought of. And maybe there’s a synth line in there that we’ll try and learn on guitar, and then we start jamming things out. Once we’ve started from that strange spot, we’ll move on.”
According to Liddiard, Tropical Fuck Storm song ideas are forged entirely in the studio and aren’t required to germinate in a live setting before making it onto a record. “Obviously, it’s a patriotic duty in Australia to admire AC/DC,” he chuckles. “But we’re not like them. We make stuff up in the studio, so we don’t even know what it’s going to sound like live when we’re doing it, because we’ve never played it live. We’re just trying to invent something and then we learn it later. Again, it’s desperately trying to get some material together.”
One might imagine that capturing such off-the-cuff-sounding recordings is challenging, but Liddiard’s ability to craft incendiary, seemingly improvised performances in the relatively controlled studio environment is rooted within some of rock’s most influential and freewheeling acts. The ability to toe the line between flawless execution and teetering on the brink of collapse is an art unto itself, and it’s a quality of performance and songcraft that Tropical Fuck Storm wholeheartedly embraces. “The minute I heard Van Halen, it was like hearing Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin,” he says. “There’s lots of bands with guitars and it’s good. But other things, you just go, ‘What the fuck?’ Something’s really happening and it’s that almost careening-out-of-control thing. I love that. It’s a fun thing to do.”
“We’re just trying to push it out there and keep it fresh and interesting. It’s like Hendrix or Captain Beefheart, just looking for something that hasn’t been done.”
Despite the experimental, loose nature of their songwriting and recording process, Liddiard says a lot of his ideas should translate easily enough to and from an acoustic guitar. “Generally, everything we do is doable in the real world,” he says. “I’ll noodle on the acoustic guitar because you might have a riff, but you want to know what key it’s in, and then you want to know what keys you can move to as well.” But starting songs with guitars and ending with guitars is not something that particularly inspires him these days.
“I’ve been in bands for years, so with Tropical Fuck Storm, we’re just trying to push it out there and keep it fresh and interesting,” he says. “It’s like Hendrix or Captain Beefheart, just looking for something that hasn’t been done. Those are my favorite things. The adventurers like Van Halen or even people like Hubert Sumlin from Howlin’ Wolf…. He had a kooky style that no one had. He introduced the whole eccentric kookiness to that electric guitar thing.”
Tropical Fuck Storm like to experiment. To achieve greater separation of guitar tracks while recording, guitarist Erica Dunn ran her guitars through a busted old boom box.
Photo by Mike White
Dunn shares a lot of the same influences with Liddiard, including Hendrix, but ultimately describes herself as a very “tactile, hands-on sort of person,” and a bit more of a minimalist than Liddiard in terms of effects pedals. “I’m not like Gaz, who is a full-on, self-described nerd when it comes to pedals and knowing them and taking them apart and building them and making them work,” she explains. “I find a thing and I generally stick to it and then I push those parameters. Sometimes, if I’m given too much, I’m overwhelmed, and I shut down.” With that in mind, one of her preferred, go-to effects in any situation is a JHS-modded ProCo Rat. “It’s sort of your base-level sound effect. We had a show the other day and it looked like our bags weren’t put on the airplane and we were just laughing about what we might be able to borrow or beg or steal to make the show happen. And I thought, ‘If someone has a Rat around, I’ll be alright.’”
“I gravitated to the metallic clang of a guitar, the rusty, barbed wire sound like early AC/DC or Neil Young.”
When it comes to framing out their own territory in the modern musical landscape, one of the most significant influences that continues to profoundly affect the Tropical Fuck Storm sound is their geographical upbringing. Had Liddiard not grown up in Western Australia, they simply would not be the same band. “Western Australia is like Southern California or Arizona,” he says. “Really dry desert, but it’s also super vast. So I gravitated to the metallic clang of a guitar, the rusty, barbed wire sound like early AC/DC or Neil Young. It seemed to make more sense and it had a vastness in it because there’s literally nothing out there.”
Western Australia occupies a geographical space roughly the size of the lands between the Rocky Mountains and the West Coast of California. But in the U.S., there are densely populated cities and millions of people occupying that area. “In Western Australia, there’s just nothing,” Liddiard says. “There’s one city, and it really did have an effect.”
When Liddiard was a teenager in the ’90s, he felt like he couldn’t escape. He was too far from anywhere. But somehow, things worked out. “You feel so trapped and you feel like everything that’s happening in music is happening somewhere else, and you’ll never be a part of it,” he says. “There was never any pretension or effort to conform in any way musically. So we just did our own thing.”
These party-rockin’ tone hunters plug their idiosyncratic axes into gifted Klons, helping them turn Music City into riff city.
Nashville has long been the hub for all things country music but in the last two decades, transplant rockers like Jack White, the Black Keys, Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine, Judas Priest’s Richie Faulkner and others, have all have made the 615 home. Adding to its growth is the organic blossoms generated via the rock block, cultivating names like Paramore, All Them Witches, Bully, Moon Taxi, The Wild Feathers, The Band Camino, and the guitar extraordinaires that make up Diarrhea Planet.
We got caught up with the semi-retired fearsome foursome for their first headlining performance at the Ryman Auditorium ahead of their return to Bonnaroo. We covered why neck humbuckers are useless (but neck dives rule), how the whole band was gifted Klon KTRs, and what each shredator does to stand in and out among their collective guitarmegeddon.Brought to you by D’Addario dBud Earplugs.
73
Diarrhea Planet’s unofficial 7th member is longtime tech and friend Dave Johnson of Scale Model Guitars. (Johnson has done several DIY features for PG, check them out!) Here is his 73rd build based on the Solid Guitar design. Constructed in 2015 it has an alder body, maple neck, and ebony fretboard. The alder was selected to keep the guitar’s weight under five pounds, the neck shape is based on a ’61 Melody Maker, and the fireworks ignite by way of the single Greer Wind humbucker wound by Porter Pickups. He opted for this one because it walks a fine line between a P-90 and PAF for a bouncy, rounder, snappier sound that sits best in DP. The switch is for a “high-octane” mod that bypasses the tone and volume controls and for a direct connection to the output jack for highway-to-the-danger-zone moments. He’s been loyal to D’Addario Medium Balanced Tension strings (.011 –.050) and Dunlop Tortex picks (.88 mm).
Diarrhea Planet Special
This bargain-bin bruiser is a Kramer Striker that cost Smith a mere $349. It has been overhauled by Dave Johnson in a recurring manner that includes Gotoh locking tuners, Graph Tech ResoMax bridge, removed the middle and neck pickups and dropped in a Bare Knuckle Nailbomb, and got a proper fret job and setup.
800 Killer
Smith has always been chasing a “bigger, more low-mid focused JCM 800” and this striking steal of a deal he scored fit the bill. The 120-watt Peavey 6505 runs into a Tyrant Tone 1x12 cabinet loaded with a single Electro-Voice Electro-Voice EVM12L Black Label Zakk Wylde speaker.
Jordan Smith’s Pedalboard
Smith’s board holds the staples for DP gigs. It starts with a Spaceman Effects Explorer Phaser, an Electronic Audio Experiments 0xEAE Boost (his favorite pedal on the planet), Boss SD-1 SuperOverdrive, and a Mr. Black Tapex 2. Diarrhea Planet might be the only band to earn KTRs. Back in 2014 or ’15, Klon creator Bill Finnegan and his employee Matt visited DP during a soundcheck near their East Coast-based shop. Finnegan loaned the foursome their own KTR to test out during the run-through. They plugged into them and instantly realized this was the sound they’ve been missing. Finnegan enjoyed the soundcheck so much that he told the band they deserved the magical red boxes and they’ve been on their boards ever since. “I’ll never sell it because we somehow impressed the guy that built one of the most influential pedals ever. It’s an honor and it means so much to me,” admits Smith. Everything rides on a Pedaltrain Classic Jr and is brought to life with a Voodoo Lab Pedal Power 2 Plus.
Dave Does It Again!
Brent Toler hit the Ryman stage with one guitar—his partscaster baby. Brent sourced all the parts (including painting the body in his parents’ garage) and luthier pal Dave Johnson helped put the pieces together. The single humbucker (with a push-pull pot engaging single-coil mode) was handwound by Alex Avedissian out of Atlanta. It has a HipShot bridge with an upgraded Hipshot Tremsetter Strat tremolo Stabilizer 401000. The roasted maple neck and dazzling pickguard was scooped off eBay. He recently switched from D’Addario strings to local faves Stringjoy.
Steal of a Deal
Traveling into town for this pair of shows, Toler packed light with just his partscaster and a pedalboard. He borrowed this Laney LC30 from bassist Mike Boyle who scored the 1x12 tube combo for $200.
Brent Toler’s Pedalboard
Paring down for carry-on limits, Toler returned to Guitar Town with a svelte pedal platform home to five effects and a tuner: a MXR Carbon Copy, a Mooer Yellow Comp, a Bogner Ecstasy Blue, Klon KTR, a MXR Phase 95, and an Electro-Harmonix EHX-2020 Tuner Pedal.
Mother’s Mark
Standing out is a must when you’re battling frequencies with three other guitarists. Emmett Miller takes a left when his brethren take a right. His custom guitar (again built by Scale Model Guitars’ Dave Johnson) is a loving recreation of a ’80s Fender Performer. Miller first got a taste of the futuristic axe when studying at the National Guitar Workshop under Shane Roberts. He posted on Craigslist in the hopes of borrowing a Performer to copy for Dave to build from. He quickly received an anonymous response that included a complete blueprint of the instrument. It has 24 scalloped frets on an ebony fretboard, a Wilkinson/Gotoh VS-100N Tremolo bridge the middle and neck pickups are Hot Stack Plus Strat hum-canceling single-coils, a handwound Avedissian humbucker in the bridge (with a coil-spot mod), and the smaller dip switch adds in the neck pickup with the bridge humbucker. And the best part of the whole thing, the night-sky artwork was painted by Emmett’s mother.
Tone School
When DP first disbanded in 2018, Miller went off to school to study electrical engineering and digital signal processing, and in doing so, he “had to play through a computer now.” He landed on the Kemper Profiler and hasn’t looked back. He avoids cabling and routes his guitar through a Line 6 Relay G55 Wireless unit.
Emmett Miller’s Pedalboard
Keeping the Kemper on amp-only duties, Miller has a standard pedal playground comprised of a Strymon El Capistan, a Klon KTR, a JHS Sweet Tea V3, Dunlop Cry Baby wah, a Moog EP-3 Expression pedal, a MXR Uni-Vibe, and a TC Electronic PolyTune. Up top you might notice what appears to be a Boss pedal enclosure, but that’s just a goof gift from fellow guitarist Evan Bird.
The Classiest and Nastiest
“I think, in my arms anymore, anything but a Tele feels weird. I do like other guitars, but these are the only ones I can throw around and then still pick back up and play,” concedes DP’s fourth guitarist Evan Bird. This MIM Fender Telecaster Thinline Deluxe was facelifted by Dave Johnson (shocker). It got a refret, improved hardware—including a 3-barrel brass bridge, Gotoh locking tuners, and strap locks—plus a fresh set of Avedissian Night Prowler humbuckers (with a push-pull coil-split mod on the bridge ’bucker). Both his Teles take D’Addario NYXL1052 Light Top/Heavy Bottom strings.
That’s Gold, Jerry, Gold!
Supplementing duties with Thinline is this Squier John 5 signature that’s finished in Frost Gold. It got the Dave Johnson Scale Model treatment and also features Seymour Duncan Pearly Gates with Les Paul-wiring and CTS pots.
Tubes, Schmubes
After toting around a hefty Twin Reverb for years, Bird made the back-saving switch to a Fender Tone Master Twin Reverb that knocks off half the weight. Another issue he was having with the OG tube Twin was blowing up the preamp section by hitting it too hard with pedals. Since making the move to the Tone Master, he’s been flying clear of any meltdowns. And keeping the cables away from his feet is the Sennheiser EW-DX EM 2 Two-Channel wireless unit.
Evan Bird’s Pedalboard
Bird keeps it lean and mean with a 4-stomp pedalboard that includes an EarthQuaker Devices Dispatch Master, XTS Winford Drive, Greer Amps Supa Cobra, and a Klon KTR. Occasional tuning is assisted by the Boss TU-3 and a Voodoo Lab Pedal Power 2 Plus brings the juice.
Shop Diarrhea Planet's Rig
A brief history of Fender’s heavyweight champ amp—plus, how to make it float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.
“If an alien came to earth and wanted to hear an American guitar sound, I’d play him my Twin with a set of Jensens.”
I found this statement many years ago and it summarizes my feelings about the Twin Reverb, the flagship of Fender amps. So, let me share my insights about the biggest brother in the Fender family and discuss speakers, tube swaps, and how to unlock its secrets. My goal is to turn you all into educated fans of this legendary amp that has somewhat lost its place in the modern world. But first, a few facts.
Fender released the Twin Reverb as we know it today in 1963 as one of the first black-panel-era amps. It was a dual-channel combo with two 12" speakers, a diode rectifier, reverb, tremolo, and four 6L6GC tubes producing 85 watts. It was targeted at professionals and was the most powerful amp Fender had ever made. During the earlier tweed era, the Twin arrived as a 2x12" combo amp—first, a low-power 25-watt version with a single power tube pair; then, after 1958, a high power-version with four 6L6GC tubes and 80 watts.
“Speakers are like ice cream—everyone has their favorite.”
The blonde Tolex Twin came in 1960 and looked more like the black-panel classic that we know today, with separate normal and vibrato channels on the faceplate. Reverb and a diode rectifier were added to the black-panel Twin Reverb, which had all the features and the biggest iron that Fender could offer at the time. It was the first and only black-panel amp with a full tone stack on both channels, with bass, mid, treble, and a bright switch allowing you to dial in everything between a Dick Dale Strat surf tone and a mellow jazz sound for, say, a big box Gibson. The silver-panel Twin Reverb went through several changes from 1972 onwards, mostly in the power circuitry. There was a 100-watt and 135-watt silver-panel version with master volume. They aren’t very popular today but will work well as a cheap practice amp if you can find one in good condition.
The cons of the Twin Reverb are weight and loudness. Depending on the speakers, a Twin weighs 73 to 88 pounds. The 13-pound JBL D120F speakers that came in the original black-panel Twins were, in my opinion, too heavy for the amp, as were the four 10" JBLs in the Super Reverb. While these speakers are highly collectible, the weight of these ceramic JBLs will eventually tear the wooden cabinet apart. So, you cannot transport these amps around for regular touring.
My favorite vintage speakers for the Twin Reverb are the lighter Jensen C12N (7 pounds) or the Fender Oxford 12T6. The Oxfords sound surprisingly tight and good, and not as mushy as the Oxfords you find in other, low-powered Fender amps. The 1965 reissue black-panel Twin Reverb’s modern Jensen C12Ks sound unforgivingly stiff to my ears. Even if they improve after years of playing, I prefer to replace them with the lighter Jensen P12Q, which has a smaller voice coil and a vintage steel basket, or Warehouse Guitar Speakers’ brighter G12C/S. The G12C/S delivers a great authentic Fender tone at a reasonable weight (10 pounds) and price. But don’t solely trust my speaker advice. Speakers are like ice cream—everyone has their favorite. With the right speakers for your ears, a reissue Twin Reverb will deliver all the goods for you.
While other Fender amps typically break up at around 4 with a Strat, the Twin Reverb stays clean up to almost 6—and those clean notes are sharp as a knife’s edge and will hold up against heavy drummers and bass players. This is exactly what the amp is made for: being played un-miked in, say, a gospel band in a 300-seat church every Sunday, or on Friday nights in a cowboy bar in Bakersfield, circa ’63. It is designed to not break up. You therefore need to have your expectations set correctly—or be adept with pedals—to really appreciate the evil Twin.
A simple trick to lower the headroom is to disengage one of the speakers and pull the two inner or outer power tubes. You will, then, essentially, have a 1x12" 40-watt amp while still benefiting from the ambience of the large speaker cabinet. Other than that, there are no mods that I recommend with this amp. The Fender Twin Reverb is made for big occasions, and once you learn how to use it correctly, you’ll enjoy a very physical tone experience together with everyone else onstage—who will have no problem hearing this amp. I promise.
Positive Grid’s Spark 40
One player’s crusade to find a do-it-all, do-it-well practice and travel amp, with a happy ending.
The first practice amp I played through was a beleaguered Peavey in the room where I took lessons with the talented multi-instrumentalist John Curtis. I’m sure I was his worst student, so maybe it was merciful that, with both of us plugged in, this battered amp with most of its dials missing could barely eke out sound.
Soon after, I went through the usual suspects in the ’80s practice-amp lineup—a Gorilla GG-10, a Peavey Rage, a 15-watt Crate—until I leapt into the big leagues with a 1966 Fender Twin Reverb. But it had so much headroom it seemed impossible to practice in my apartment. I eventually learned what a guitar’s volume knob does, but before that I went a quieter route with a first-generation Scholz Rockman. I loved it, with all those big, pumping tones at my disposal, rushing through headphones. Sometimes I ran the Rockman through the Twin, so all the dogs in the neighborhood could howl along. But, after a while, as I drew a bead on what I was interested in playing, I decided that heavily processed sound wasn’t really for me.
Over the years I’ve yearned for a great-sounding amp that’s small enough to sling into a bag or suitcase for travel, or to leave unobtrusively in the living room, so I could scratch the itch at will. I tried various tiny, low-wattage, low-cost combos, but most were plagued with tinny sound and limited controls, and nothing seemed evolved quite enough to get the kind of sustain, gain, and sonic variety I needed to be happy.
Then, in the early 2000s, a friend gifted me a first-gen Roland Micro Cube. I loved its sound and versatility, and also used it for coffeehouse gigs, radio appearances, and recording demos. But one day during the pandemic … it died.
“If Charles Darwin studied circuits instead of critters, he’d be staggered by how far Spark elevates the practice amp.”
Back in 2019, I started to see ads and demos for something called Spark. But I was skeptical, and I didn’t know anyone who had one. Then I saw Nashville pedal-steel player Paul Niehaus use one on a local gig, sounding great. I was impressed.
Early this year, I got my hands on one of these little 40-watters and plugged it in using Spark’s 19V DC adaptor, and was immediately smitten. I was quickly taken with the versatility and sound of the amp itself: two remarkably fully dimensional-sounding 4" speakers running in stereo, plus metal, hi-gain, crunch, glassy, clean (the latter three are my favorites), bass, and acoustic amp modeling. There’s an impressive range of controls, including effects: gain, bass, mid, treble, master, modulation, delay, reverb, and an output dial so you can set your core tone and ride the volume up or down without losing sonic character. There’s also a headphone out, four presets, a tap-tempo control for delay and mod effects, and Bluetooth connectivity, which is where Spark catches fire.
In essence, the free Spark download turns the amp into Lon Chaney. Among its thousand faces, or at least sounds, are an array of presets aimed at pop, rock, blues, and metal, which blend virtual pedals with classic amp-head tones. And all of these app presets are tweakable via your phone. You simply turn the dials onscreen, just as you would use the controls of real pedals and amps. You can also use the EQ, effects, and other dials on the actual Spark amp to further color those tones. And you can customize and save presets easily, using four buttons on Spark. It’s a mind-boggling bouquet of tonal options—50,000-plus in Spark’s online ToneCloud community alone, says maker Positive Grid—and the ones I’ve conjured all sound really, really good. The bass and low-mid response is uncanny, which explains why a pedal-steel player or bassist would enjoy using one. Also, you can use the A.I.-powered Smart Jam feature to create custom backing bass and drum tracks, or jam with pre-recorded tracks in a wide variety of genres. (Spark also streams from Spotify or Apple Music, while displaying the chords you're hearing in real time.)
Spark now sits on the tiles of the hearth in my living room, where a pair of guitars are in easy reach. But I’ve also used Spark (it’s loud) as a guitar stage monitor with my band, and it fits handily in my luggage—protected by clothing—or tucked into a small bag, under the seat or in an overhead bin of a plane.
If Charles Darwin studied circuits instead of critters, he’d be staggered by how far Spark elevates the practice amp. And while there are cheaper options, the $269 street price for all this tone, output, and versatility is a bargain. There’s now also Spark MINI, which pumps 10 watts through two angled, 2" speakers, and the Spark GO, which will fit in the palm of a hand, is on the way. Good stuff? You bet!