
Scottsdale, AZ (November 12, 2012) – Squier is proud to introduce an innovative new Strat guitar model that can directly connect with and record to Apple iPhone, iPad, iPod
Scottsdale, AZ (November 12, 2012) – Squier is proud to introduce an innovative new Strat guitar model that can directly connect with and record to Apple iPhone, iPad, iPod touch, Mac or Windows-based computers.
The Squier by Fender Strat Guitar with USB and iOS Connectivity features an onboard mini-USB connector that allows players to interface directly and easily with all these devices, with no additional hardware needed – including GarageBand and other music apps on iOS.
A mini-USB to USB as well as a mini-USB to 30-pin cable is included, and the guitar also features a convenient onboard stereo headphone jack with volume control for use in USB/iOS mode. Further, it’s still a fully functional Stratocaster model that can be plugged into any instrument amplifier.
For more information:
www.fender.com
Onstage, Tommy Emmanuel executes a move that is not from the playbook of his hero, Chet Atkins.
Recorded live at the Sydney Opera House, the Australian guitarist’s new album reminds listeners that his fingerpicking is in a stratum all its own. His approach to arranging only amplifies that distinction—and his devotion to Chet Atkins.
Australian fingerpicking virtuoso Tommy Emmanuel is turning 70 this year. He’s been performing since he was 6, and for every solo show he’s played, he’s never used a setlist.
“My biggest decision every day on tour is, ‘What do I want to start with? How do I want to come out of the gate?’” Emmanuel explains to me over a video call. “A good opener has to have everything. It has to be full of surprise, it has to have lots of good ideas, lots of light and shade, and then, hit it again,” he says, illustrating each phrase with his hands and ending with a punch.“You lift off straightaway with the first song, you get airborne, you start reaching, and then it’s time to level out and take people on a journey.”
In May 2023, Emmanuel played two shows at the Sydney Opera House, the best performances from which have been combined on his new release, Live at the Sydney Opera House. The venue’s Concert Hall, which has a capacity of 2,679, is a familiar room for Emmanuel, but I think at this point in his career he wouldn’t bring a setlist if he was playing Wembley Stadium. On the recording, Emmanuel’s mind-blowingly dexterous chops, distinctive attack and flair, and knack for culturally resonant compositions are on full display. His opening song for the shows? An original, “Countrywide,” with a segue into Chet Atkins’ “El Vaquero.”
“When I was going to high school in the ’60s, I heard ‘El Vaquero’ on Chet Atkins’ record, [1964’s My Favorite Guitars],” Emmanuel shares. “And when I wrote ‘Countrywide’ in around ’76 or ’77, I suddenly realized, ‘Ah! It’s a bit like “El Vaquero!”’ So I then worked out ‘El Vaquero’ as a solo piece, because it wasn’t recorded like that [by Atkins originally].
“The co-writer of ‘El Vaquero’ is Wayne Moss, who’s a famous Nashville session guy who played ‘da da da’ [sings the guitar riff from Roy Orbison’s ‘Pretty Woman’]. And he played on a lot of Chet’s records as a rhythm guy. So once when I played ‘El Vaquero’ live, Wayne Moss came up to me and said, ‘You know, you did my part and Chet’s at the same time. That’s not fair!’” Emmanuel says, laughing.
Atkins is the reason Emmanuel got into performing. His mother had been teaching him rhythm guitar for a couple years when he heard Atkins on the radio and, at 6, was able to immediately mimic his fingerpicking technique. His father recognized Emmanuel’s prodigious talent and got him on the road that year, which kicked off his professional career. He says, “By the time I was 6, I was already sleep-deprived, working too hard, and being forced to be educated. Because all I was interested in was playing music.”
Emmanuel talks about Atkins as if the way he viewed him as a boy hasn’t changed. The title Atkins bestowed upon him, C.G.P. (Certified Guitar Player), appears on Emmanuel’s album covers, in his record label (C.G.P. Sounds), and is inlaid at the 12th fret on his Maton Custom Shop TE Personal signature acoustic. (Atkins named only five guitarists C.G.P.s. The others are John Knowles, Steve Wariner, Jerry Reed, and Atkins himself.) For Emmanuel, even today most roads lead to Atkins.
When I ask Emmanuel about his approach to arranging for solo acoustic guitar, he says, “It was really hit home for me by my hero, Chet Atkins, when I read an interview with him a long time ago and he said, ‘Make your arrangement interesting.’ And I thought, ‘Wow!’ Because I was so keen to be true to the composer and play the song as everyone knows it. But then again, I’m recreating it like everyone else has, and I might as well get in line with the rest of them and jump off the cliff into nowhere. So it struck me: ‘How can I make my arrangements interesting?’ Well, make them full of surprises.”
When Emmanuel was invited to contribute to 2015’s Burt Bacharach: This Guitar’s in Love with You, featuring acoustic-guitar tributes to Bacharach’s classic compositions by various artists, Emmanuel expresses that nobody wanted to take “(They Long to Be) Close to You,” due to its “syrupy” nature. But for Emmanuel, this presented an entertaining challenge.
He explains, “I thought, ‘Okay, how can I reboot “Close to You?’ So even the most jaded listener will say, ‘Holy fuck—I didn’t expect that! Wow, I really like that; that is a good melody!’ So I found a good key to play the song in, which allowed me to get some open notes that sustain while I move the chords. Then what I did is, in every phrase, I made the chord unresolve, then resolve.
Tommy Emmanuel's Gear
“I’m writing music for the film that’s in my head,” Emmanuel says. “So, I don’t think, ‘I’m just the guitar,’ ever.”
Photo by Simone Cecchetti
Guitars
- Three Maton Custom Shop TE Personals, each with an AP5 PRO pickup system
Amps
- Udo Roesner Da Capo 75
Effects
- AER Pocket Tools preamp
Strings & Picks
- Martin TE Signature Phosphor Bronze (.012–.054)
- Martin SP strings
- Ernie Ball Paradigm strings
- D’Andrea Pro Plec 1.5 mm
- Dunlop medium thumbpicks
“And then to really put the nail in the coffin, at the end, ‘Close to you’ [sings melody]. I finished on a major 9 chord which had that note in it, but it wasn’t the key the song was in, which is a typical Stevie Wonder trick. All the tricks I know, the wonderful ideas that I’ve stolen, are from Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Lionel Richie, James Taylor, Carole King, Neil Diamond. All of the people who wrote really incredibly great pop songs and R&B music—I stole every idea I could, and I tried to make my little two-and-a -half minutes as interesting and entertaining as possible. Because entertainment equals: Surprise me.”
I share with Emmanuel that the performances on Live at the Sydney Opera House, which include his popular “Beatles Medley,” reminded me of another possible arrangement trick. In Harpo Marx’s autobiography, Harpo Speaks, I preface, Marx writes of a lesson he learned as a performer—to “answer the audience’s questions.” (Emmanuel says he’s a big fan of the book and read it in the early ’70s.) That happened for me while listening to the medley, when, after sampling melodies from “She’s a Woman” and “Please Please Me,” Emmanuel suddenly lands on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.”
I say, “I’m waiting for something that hits more recognizably to me, and when ‘While My Guitar’ comes in, that’s like answering my question.”
“It’s also Paul and John, Paul and John, George,” Emmanuel replies. “You think, ‘That’s great, that’s great pop music,’ then, ‘Wow! Look at the depth of this.’”Often Emmanuel’s flights on his acoustic guitar are seemingly superhuman—as well as supremely entertaining.
Photo by Ekaterina Gorbacheva
A trick I like to employ as a writer, I say to Emmanuel, is that when I’m describing something, I’ll provide the reader with just enough context so that they can complete the thought on their own.
“You can do that musically as well,” says Emmanuel. He explains how, in his arrangement of “What a Wonderful World,” he’ll play only the vocal melody. “When people are asking me at a workshop, ‘How come you don’t put chords behind that part?’ I say, ‘I’m drawing the melody and you’re putting in all the background in your head. I don’t need to tell you what the chords are. You already know what the chords are.’”
“Wayne Moss came up to me and said, ‘You know, you did my part and Chet’s at the same time. That’s not fair!’”
Another track featured on Live at the Sydney Opera House is a cover of Paul Simon’s “American Tune” (which Emmanuel then jumps into an adaptation of the Australian bush ballad, “Waltzing Matilda”). It’s been a while since I really spent time with There GoesRhymin’ Simon (on which “American Tune” was first released), and yet it sounded so familiar to me. A little digging revealed that its melody is based on the 17th-century Christian hymn, “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” which was arranged and repurposed by Bach in a few of the composer’s works. The cross-chronological and genre-lackadaisical intersections that come up in popular music sometimes is fascinating.
“I think the principle right there,” Emmanuel muses, “is people like Bach and Beethoven and Mozart found the right language to touch the heart of a human being through their ears and through their senses ... that really did something to them deep in their soul. They found a way with the right chords and the right notes, somehow. It could be as primitive as that.
Tommy Emmanuel has been on the road as a performing guitarist for 64 years. Eat your heart out, Bob Dylan.
Photo by Jan Anderson
“It’s like when you’re a young composer and someone tells you, ‘Have a listen to Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind,”’ he continues. “‘Listen to how those notes work with those chords.’ And every time you hear it, you go, ‘Why does it touch me like that? Why do I feel this way when I hear those chords—those notes against those chords?’ I say, it’s just human nature. Then you wanna go, ‘How can I do that!’” he concludes with a grin.
“You draw from such a variety of genres in your arrangements,” I posit. “Do you try to lean into the side of converting those songs to solo acoustic guitar, or the side of bridging the genre’s culture to that of your audience?”
“I stole every idea I could, and I tried to make my little two-and-a-half minutes as interesting and entertaining as possible. Because entertainment equals: Surprise me.”
“If I was a method actor,” Emmanuel explains, “what I’m doing is—I’m writing music for the film that’s in my head. So, I don’t think, ‘I’m just the guitar,’ ever. I always think it has to have that kind of orchestral, not grandeur, but … palette to it. Because of the influence of Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, and Elton John, especially—the piano guys—I try to use piano ideas, like putting the third in the low bass a lot, because guitar players don’t necessarily do that. And I try to always do something that makes what I do different.
“I want to be different and recognizable,” he continues. “I remember when people talked about how some players—you just hear one note and you go, ‘Oh, that’s Chet Atkins.’ And it hit me like a train, the reason why a guy like Hank Marvin, the lead guitar player from the Shadows.... I can tell you: He had a tone that I hear in other players now. Everyone copied him—they just don’t know it—including Mark Knopfler, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, all those people. I got him up to play with me a few times when he moved to Australia, and even playing acoustic, he still had that sound. I don’t know how he did it, but it was him. He invented himself.”
YouTube It
Emmanuel performs his arrangement of “What a Wonderful World,” illustrating how omitting a harmonic backdrop can have a more powerful effect, especially when playing such a well-known melody.
If working on your own instruments sounds intimidating, this issue’s cover story may be the gateway you need. And yes, Ted has a troubled history of repairing his own 6-strings.
A few decades ago, my mother-in-law found an old Japan-made guitar at a yard sale for $5. It played pretty well for a guitar with a baseball-bat neck, and sounded decent in a junkyard-dog kind of way. But the tuning pegs were rusty and pretty lazy about staying in tune, no matter how much I encouraged them to do their job.
I hadn’t been playing all that long, but figured I could cure the issue. I got some replacement tuning pegs. I noticed they were a little snug going in, but I screwed them in place, and they seemed to work. At least for a few days, at which time little hairline cracks began radiating from them, and growing into larger and larger crevasses, until the headstock had multiple large canyons and the guitar became unplayable. The instrument sat around for a couple months, and I decided it was likely financially burdensome to replace or repair the headstock, so I tossed the guitar in a dumpster.
In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t thrown it out. I think it was a Teisco, for one thing, but this was years before I knew who Hound Dog Taylor was. Today, I want a Teisco! At the least, I wish I’d soaked the guitar in lighter fluid, gone to a pond, lit the beast, and set it to sail. It deserved a Viking funeral. After all, it had already traveled around a good portion of the world and likely had adventures before it ended up in a Rhode Island yard sale and in my poor custodianship.
“I wish I’d soaked the guitar in lighter fluid, gone to a pond, lit the beast, and set it to sail. It deserved a Viking funeral.”
I told you this story as evidence that I am the world’s worst guitar repair person. More evidence: Years later, when I was ripping around the country in a minivan with my raucous Mississippi hill country blues inspired outfit Scissormen, I used to carry everything I thought was necessary to make emergency repairs—an array of tools and supplies including wrenches, screwdrivers, wire, a replacement humbucker, duct tape (the miracle worker!), and a soldering iron. Trouble is, every time I had to make a solder because of a bad connection to a pot or some pesky wiring issue in an amp, it would come undone in about a week … tops. Even replacing the selector-switch cap on my Esquire reissue was a disaster. It popped off during a particularly heated set, and I ended up carving a three-inch ditch on the lower part of my right hand with the exposed toggle. With blood smeared across the face of the guitar, at least I felt as cool as Pete Townshend for a few minutes.
I’m penning this confessional because this is our annual DIY cover, spotlighting the story “You Broke It; You Fix It.” After many years and with the insight from DIY articles in guitar magazines (including PG and especially Jeff Bober’s now retired “Ask Amp Man” column), from the luthiers who’ve befriended me, and practice, I can now make some basic fixes to my amps, guitars, and pedals. But in past issues, we’ve run some DIY stories I’d never attempt, like building a Leslie-style cabinet with plywood and Styrofoam, among other materials, and re-creating the Thurston Moore drone guitar. These are great projects, but they are beyond the needs and perhaps the grasp of a lot of us. I think focusing on basic repairs and mods is generally more helpful for most players, and the heavy lifting can be done by skilled repair techs or the more ambitious and mechanically coordinated. (By the way, I’m sure everybody ever featured in “Reader Guitar of the Month” is hands-down better at guitar building/fixing/etc. than me.)
So, when I asked Nashville-based luthier Marshall Dunn to write this issue’s cover story, I requested that he focus on correcting simple guitar injuries that could happen to any instrument on any given night: a bent or loosened tuner, a divot in the body or a fret, a jack slipping into the body. And to showcase the assortment of tools we’d need to make these easy but potentially intimidating fixes ourselves. These small injuries can be caused by something as simple as a guitar falling, or a burst of especially exuberant onstage expression—like the night I ended a set with wailing feedback and slid my Les Paul across the stage toward my Marshall 4x12, where it stuck between the cabinet and the floor, making even more feedback and divoting a fret. (The next day, the late, great luthier Jim Mouradian gave me the scolding I deserved when I sheepishly took the guitar to his shop.) Be sure to check out Marshall’s video online, too, where you can see him in action as he talks you through the fixes.
So, consider this a “gateway” repair story, for those intimidated by the work or, in my case, past failures. Start here and maybe the next step will be that Thurston Moore drone guitar.
Our columnist has journeyed through blizzards and hurricanes to scoop up rare, weird guitars, like this axe of unknown origin.
Collecting rare classic guitars isn’t for the faint of heart—a reality confirmed by the case of this Japanese axe of unknown provenance.
If you’ve been reading this column regularly, you’ll know that my kids are getting older and gearing up for life after high school. Cars, insurance, tuition, and independence are really giving me agita these days! As a result, I’ve been slowly selling off my large collection of guitars, amps, and effects. When I’m looking for things to sell, I often find stuff I forgot I had—it’s crazy town! Finding rare gear was such a passion of mine for so many years. I braved snowstorms, sketchy situations, shady characters, slimy shop owners, and even hurricane Sandy! If you think about it, it’s sort of easy to buy gear. All you have to do is be patient and search. Even payments nowadays are simple. I mean, when I got my first credit card…. Forget about it!
Now, selling, which is what I mainly do now, is a different story. Packing, shipping, and taking photos is time consuming. And man, potential buyers can be really exhausting. I’ve learned that shipping costs are way higher, but buyers are still the same. You have the happy buyer, the tire kicker, the endless questioner, the ghoster, and the grump. Sometimes there are even combinations of the above. It’s an interesting lesson in human psychology, if you’re so inclined. For me, vintage guitars are like vintage cars and have some quirks that a modern player might not appreciate. Like, can you play around buzzing or dead frets? How about really tiny frets? Or humps and bumps on a fretboard? What about controlling high feedback and squealing pickups by keeping your fingers on the metal parts of the guitar? Not everyone can be like Jack White, fighting his old, red, Valco-made fiberglass Airline. It had one working pickup and original frets! I guess my point is: Buyer beware!
“They all sound great—all made from the same type of wood and all wired similarly—but since real quality control didn’t really exist at that time, the fate of guitars was left up to chance.”
Take, for instance, the crazy-cool guitar presented here. It’s a total unknown as far as the maker goes, but it is Japanese and from the 1960s. I’ve had a few similar models and they all feature metal pickguards and interesting designs. I’ve also seen this same guitar with four pickups, which is a rare find. But here’s the rub: Every one of the guitars I’ve had from the unknown maker were all a bit different as far as playability. They all sound great—all made from the same type of wood and all wired similarly—but since real quality control didn’t exist at that time, the final state of guitars was left up to chance. Like, what if the person carving necks had a hangover that day? Or had a fight that morning? Seriously, each one of these guitars is like a fingerprint. It’s not like today where almost every guitar has a similar feel. It’s like the rare Teisco T-60, one of Glen Campbell’s favorite guitars. I have three, and one has a deep V-shaped neck, and the other two are more rounded and slim. Same guitars, all built in 1960 by just a few Teisco employees that worked there at the time.
When I got this guitar, I expected all the usual things, like a neck shim (to get a better break-over string angle), rewire, possible refret, neck planing, and other usual stuff that I or my great tech Dave D’Amelio have to deal with. Sometimes Dave dreads seeing me show up with problems I can’t handle, but just like a good mechanic, a good tech is hard to come by when it comes to vintage gear. Recently, I sold a guitar that I set up and Dave spent a few more hours getting it playable. When it arrived at the buyer’s home, he sent me an email saying the guitar wasn’t playable and the pickups kept cutting out. He took the guitar to his tech who also said the guitar was unplayable. So what can you do? Every sale has different circumstances.
Anyway, I still have this guitar and still enjoy playing it, but it does fight me a little, and that’s fine with me. The pickup switches get finicky and the volume and tone knobs have to be rolled back and forth to work out the dust, but it simply sounds great! It’s as unique as a snowflake—kinda like the ones I often braved back when I was searching for old gear!
Swirl deeper in an excellent rotary speaker simulation’s complex, intoxicating charms.
Wide-ranging controls enable a wide spectrum of subtle-to-powerful modulation textures. Intuitive.
Jewel bypass/rate LED can be blinding.
$229
Keeley Rotary
robertkeeley.com
Certain facets of a rotary speaker’s mystery and magic can be approximated via phasers, vibratos, choruses, or flangers. But replicating anything more than a small percentage of a rotary speaker’s sonic complexity in a stompbox takes a keen-eared designer, a fair bit of R&D, and a digital engine that can crunch a few numbers. As a consequence, really good rotary simulations are typically pretty expensive. And because a lot of players view them as one-trick ponies, they are relatively few in number.
Keeley’s Rotary, as the name suggests, specializes in emulating the ineffable, Doppler-y, delicious tones of a Leslie. But it is hardly limited. In addition to super-thick, syrupy, and head-spinning sounds, the rangeful blend control enables many subtle, subdued, and just-barely-there modulation washes—the kind that add critical, transformative, animating energy to spare arrangements. The drive control is a tasty thickening agent that adds color, equalization nuance, and significant push at more pronounced modulation levels. Keeley also added a 3-position mid boost—presumably to help overcome perceived volume loss inherent to modulation effects, but also to add pep in moments where phase cancellation seems to swipe energy. In concert with the drive, it can be used as a dedicated tone control—helping match the pedal to different pickups, amps, and musical moods. Secondary controls for chasing extra-slow speeds and customizing ramp rates also make it easy to tailor the Rotary for very specific placement in a mix or an arrangement. But the real value in the Rotary for many will be the wobbly prettiness of the many modulations here—particularly in stereo—and the musical provocation they so readily supply.