With his latest release, FOREGROUND MUSIC, the singer-songwriter muses through his stress, anxiety, and sociopolitical unrest to reflect back to listeners their own human experience.
Ron Gallo has a quick answer when asked what went into his latest record, the cheekily titled full-length FOREGROUND MUSIC. “Pure, daily, existential crisis,” the Philadelphia-based musician says in a flat, sarcastic tone.
He’s joking, but only a little. Gallo says the early days of the pandemic removed the usual distractions from his day-to-day life, and he was left to engage with and reflect on the world around him, uninterrupted. It started to feel like he was stuck between two extremes.
“If you’re tuned into news and social media and paying attention to everything that’s happening everywhere, the world can seem absolutely chaotic,” says Gallo. “But then you can walk out your front door and you’re like, ‘Oh, it’s a nice day, the neighbors are nice, and I’m okay.’ It’s like living in two realities simultaneously.”
FOREGROUND MUSIC is in part an effort to make sense of how to navigate between those two states. There are moments of relief and calm, but the record is most often tense and sharp—a tightly coiled spring threatening to burst. Gallo’s lyrics are acidic and blunt. The spoken-word interlude on the title track sounds like someone yanked open the cranium of a chronic overthinker and funneled their brain’s stream-of-consciousness anxieties right onto a page: “By the way, how are there so many t-shirts on Earth? / I mean, let's say on average everyone has 15 / You times that by billions of people / How is there enough raw materials?”
Ron Gallo - "SAN BENEDETTO"
It’s not just anxiety for anxiety’s sake. Releasing the pressure from a vessel allows it to function at full potential. “When you’re overwhelmed by the dread of everything that’s happening, it can feel really intense,” says Gallo. “But it’s mobilizing at the same time.”
FOREGROUND MUSIC is the fifth studio LP in his discography (which started with his 2014 debut RONNY), and his first on legendary Oregon independent label Kill Rock Stars. It started coming together on a day off of touring in upstate New York in October 2021, when the band stayed at a friend’s studio and demoed new tracks. They then took them back to Philadelphia, where they re-recorded them at home and live off the floor at drummer Josh Friedman’s studio. It was the first time that Gallo, along with bassist Chiara D’Anzieri and guitarist Jerry Bernhardt, decided to invest in home recording gear and learn how to use it, including a Universal Audio Apollo interface. The guitars on the album were recorded either with an SM57 on a Fender Princeton into Gallo’s DAW, or straight-up direct input into the Apollo.
“I’ve always relied on other people for what I considered passable recording. I just never trusted myself to do it,” says Gallo. “It was kind of learning it ‘as we go.’” The experience was liberating. On 2021’s PEACEMEAL, Gallo’s former label, New West Records, insisted he work with a well-known producer in an expensive, well-appointed studio. This time, he went back to his DIY roots—and it paid off. “You don’t have to spend all this money and go to these big fancy studios to get good sounds,” says Gallo. “[Doing it yourself] feels like beating the system.”
The music on Gallo’s latest release has elements that range from stream-of-consciousness lyrics to garage-y fuzz to surreal ’80s strumming to rockabilly punch.
Gallo’s rig, too, is free of bells and whistles. While he got a Fender Mustang in late 2021 to bring on tour, an olive-green Jaguar that he bought off “a kid on Facebook Marketplace” in Philadelphia seven years ago has been his go-to. (Though he recently added a second Jag, in sharp orange to match the record’s aesthetic.) “As shallow as it is, I’m usually drawn to the look of things,” he says. “Even if they’re shitty, I usually play pretty primally anyway.” The aforementioned Princeton—paired with a Tube Screamer, a ZVEX Fat Fuzz Factory, and a Boss delay—has backed Gallo for just as long.
“I’m not a tone guru, where I’m really precious about my sound,” he says. “It’s like trying to arrive at tonal mecca. It could be endless. I just would rather not even start that path, really. As long as it works, it’s good for me.”
This might come as a surprise for fans of FOREGROUND MUSIC. The record is packed with thick, rich guitar tones, ranging from garage-y fuzz to swampy blues chording to abandoned-building reverb swells on lazy barre chords. There is the dirt-smeared, barking riff of opener “ENTITLED MAN”; the glitchy, blown-speaker solo on “SAN BENEDETTO,” which finds Gallo lamenting the inhumanity of American versus Italian lifestyles; the surreal, watery ’80s strumming of “YUCCA VALLEY MARSHALLS”; and the clean-and-clear rockabilly punch of “VANITY MARCH.”Ron Gallo's Gear
For FOREGROUND MUSIC, Gallo, drummer Jerry Bernhardt, and bassist Chiara D’Anzieri—pictured here—invested in home recording gear for the first time, to produce the album without the frills of a fancy studio.
Photo by Loelia Photography
Guitars
- Fender Jaguar
Amps
- Fender Princeton
Effects
- Ibanez TS9 Tube Screamer
- ZVEX Fat Fuzz Factory
- Boss DD-2 Digital Delay
Strings & Picks
- Ernie Ball Custom Flatwound Strings (.011s)
- Dunlop .73 mm grip picks
The versatility and breadth of voice with simple equipment is a product of Gallo’s musical upbringing. He came up playing chaotic shows in basements and DIY spaces without monitors, let alone sound engineers, so he learned quickly how to sound alright on a dime. “I’ve always been of the mindset to be able to pull it off in any scenario or as simply as possible,” says Gallo. “It was just kind of out of necessity, and that’s just always stuck with me.”
Even Gallo’s relationship with the guitar itself started as a means to an end rather than a primary passion. “It was more just a vehicle for making songs, really,” he says. “It seemed like the easiest way to make stuff. I’ve always viewed it that way.”
Gallo arrived at the phrase “foreground music” years ago when someone asked what kind of music he played. It feels at least like a clever retort to increasingly algorithmic playlist-ification, a process that has transformed music from a distinct artistic work to an abstract mood-enhancing service. “Foreground music” became Gallo’s default answer in response to the question of what genre he produced, because it suggested a simple idea: Gallo’s work is meant to be engaged with, not flicked on as ambience for another activity. “It’s something you face and deal with, and maybe derive some kind of frustration or anxiety or intensity from,” says Gallo. “It kind of fit the record, too.”
Much of FOREGROUND MUSIC’s ire is driven by the foreclosure of organic, human experiences in a mad dash for profits. Over the short, abrasive noise-spiral of “LIFE IS A PRIVILEGE? (INTERLUDE),” Gallo delivers a delayed response to a listener from a place (ostensibly his native Philadelphia, to which he returned from Nashville in 2019) “where it costs twice as much to live, but life is not getting any better.” His tirade climaxes near the end: “You get buried, and they’ll put condos on top of it / Ya, you get buried, and they’ll profit off of it / You get buried, life is a privilege.”
Part of Gallo’s artistic inspiration comes from his frustration with expensive housing developments that create “chaos and disruption” in long-established communities and neighborhoods.
Photo by Chiara D’Anzieri
Gallo and the band used the record to physically push back against these things. In May 2022—a little less than a year before its official release—the band appeared unannounced on a rooftop in Philadelphia’s Fishtown neighborhood to perform FOREGROUND MUSIC in its entirety while a camera crew captured the show. Curious onlookers stopped and watched. Some even sat down to take in the music. The film was released on YouTube, titled “BEFORE THE BUILDING GOES: FOREGROUND MUSIC LIVE & UNANNOUNCED.”
It all took place on the edge of a broad, empty swath of rubble and dirt right next to Gallo’s house. It’s slated to become a condo building, leaving Gallo’s street looking like “a warzone.”
“At the end of the day, there’s gonna be these big, clean, new, fresh buildings, but the process to get there is total destruction and chaos and disruption,” says Gallo. The condos will also steamroll a beloved neighborhood mural. “Of course some idiot is gonna build some dumb for-profit, $5000-a-month shoebox apartments in there, getting no permission [from current residents],” groans Gallo.
Gallo sighs that the people behind the development likely don’t live anywhere near the site, and therefore “don’t give a shit about who it’s impacting.” “That mindset seems to be driving all of the really backwards shit that is happening all over,” he says. The rooftop show last year was a manner in which Gallo could hit back in his own way. “It was a bit of a memorial to before and after,” he says.
When the band was faced with a sudden, literally last-minute cancellation of a festival gig in Spain back in April, Gallo says, “It put us all in a state of surrender. You just have to find a way to laugh at it.”
Photo by Chiara D’Anzieri
In late April, Gallo and his band flew to Portugal to catch a connecting flight to Spain, where they were slated to play Warm Up, an outdoor festival in Murcia. They had set up their gear and were 10 minutes out from their set time when a violent, windy rainstorm swamped the festival grounds. It felt ludicrous, unthinkable: After the better part of two years off the road during the pandemic and a transatlantic trip to play a coveted festival, with a vital new record to share, a chaotic weather event smashed their best-laid plans.
By the time the group were in the van on their way to a gig in Cologne, Germany a few days later, the stress of the tumult had started to fade into black, fatalist comedy. “It put us all in a state of surrender,” says Gallo. “You just have to find a way to laugh at it.”Even with the hitches, taking FOREGROUND MUSIC on the road has been cathartic. People who attend his shows have told Gallo how closely his struggles on the record resemble their own. It’s a double-edged comfort: It proves that these problems exist all over the place, but it also demonstrates that there are others—thousands of others—who want to change the way things are. That, for Gallo, is the whole point. “When I went to make FOREGROUND MUSIC, I kind of asked myself, ‘What even justifies making an album right now?’” he says. “The [point] was, well, to talk about what most people are experiencing.”
Ron Gallo - I LOVE SOMEONE BURIED DEEP INSIDE OF YOU (Live at Tournament Studios)
Channeling classic songwriting greats like Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen, Ron Gallo croons “I love someone buried deep inside of you” over meditative, fuzzified chords and a clean and simple rhythm section.
This not-so-special-looking Mustang bass sold for $384,000. Introduced in 1966 at just $189.50 (about $1,600 today), that’s a big markup for the historic and collector’s value it accrued on tour with the Rolling Stones.
In his final Bass Bench, our columnist ponders what innovations will come next.
Roughly 70 years into the history of the electric bass, I find myself wondering: Is there a target in the evolution of our instrument? Are we aiming for superb playability, the highest tuning stability, tonal superiority and versatility, ergonomics and comfort, or even all of these things?
In our capitalistic world, there’s usually one thing that rules it all: money! The site ventured.com features statistics and lists relating to the value of just about anything, and that includes the most expensive basses ever—right next to the most expensive fish and banjos. So, is this list full of the most cutting-edge instruments with advanced technology, giving us a glimpse into the evolution of the bass guitar?
Well, the basses at the top of the list do not give us that impression. Instead, they’re rather old tech. In first place is a 1969 Fender Mustang played by Bill Wyman on the Rolling Stones’ 1969 and 1970 tour, which sold at auction for $384,000. Of course, the Mustang was originally designed to be a budget bass, featuring racing stripes to appeal to young students.
The second on the list is a $250,000 luxury bass made from “premium materials” by luthier Jens Ritter, featuring 24-karat gold inlays and hardware, plus knobs topped with diamonds. It might still be a good, well-playing bass, but that’s obviously not where the money went.
A Hofner 500/1 sporting Paul McCartney’s autograph is third on the list of the most expensive basses ever.
Photo courtesy of wikimedia.org
In third is another collectible piece: a Hofner 500/1 Violin bass signed by Paul McCartney, followed by James Jamerson’s 1961 Fender Precision. The list continues with either signature models, ornamental inlays, or sought-after, rare custom colors. The Rickenbacker 4005 “Lightshow” bass, featuring lights all over the body that change color based on the notes played, even makes an appearance.
This list is further proof that it’s the story of a bass—its origin, rarity, who owned it, or who signed it—that drives its value more than innovation. And, of course, it’s collectors and not players that spend that much cash. But what if all those efforts would have gone right into a musician’s practical or tonal needs?
Our basses have to be visually appealing, and it’s fun for them to have a cool story, but instruments aren’t just collectibles or fashion, and a little innovation here and there wouldn’t hurt—especially since so many manufacturers’ sites praise exactly that. Every other industry accepts R&D as a cost factor that customers must pay for. The music industry instead invests in either cost savings or ornamental luxury, keeping customers amused with an ever-recurring cycle of fashionable items. And besides tradition, fashion is often the real enemy of innovation.
Besides tradition, fashion is often the real enemy of innovation.
Remember those optical pickups from “A Closer Look at Optical Pickups” [May 2021]. An evolutionary product that requires an idea and costly efforts in R&D and, finally, patents? Or how about Just L. Pauls from Spain, who, almost a decade ago, thought he invented a 3D pickup and convinced his family to spend a small fortune on the patent? In the end, there was no money for a good website or even a demo musician and the project soon folded. What innovation will come along and actually succeed at capturing our imaginations and finding an audience?
On a personal note, this is the 120th Bass Bench column, which means it’s been running for exactly a decade now. It’s time for me to take a break and focus on my main business and get down my backlog that has skyrocketed in recent years.
It wasn’t only 120 deadlines to meet, but also some details I wasn’t super-interested in and never intended to learn about, but had to, knowing it was going to meet an expert audience. In the end, it has helped me to connect a lot of dots, both historically and technologically, which I’m extremely thankful for.
A huge thanks to all the great people at PG for allowing and helping me to do this, and to all who commented and read what I had to say. I feel honored I could do this, and, who knows, maybe—or hopefully—I’ll return at some point. Thank you!
Small refinements make this Kurt Cobain-designed fusion of Fender short scales a sweet-playing serving of surprises.
Improved, more versatile pickups. Fast and narrow neck. Excellent quality. Unique styling by Kurt Cobain himself.
Humbucker can still feel a touch antiseptic and flat. Narrow neck will be too narrow for some. Mustang-style switching can be cumbersome.
$1,249
Fender Jag-Stang
fender.com
It doesn’t take deep analysis of Kurt Cobain’s lyrics, journals, and visual art to glean that he was, in many ways, a fluid and impulsive artist—one that reveled in riding waves of free-association and stoking musical and poetic conflagrations from sparks of incidental information and observation. Cobain also admired (and collaborated with) author, poet, and visual artist William S. Burroughs, whose embrace of cut-up technique, a collagist approach to writing and language, informed his most famous work, the novel Naked Lunch.
The possibilities of cut-up and collage technique were not lost on Cobain. In fact, they are plain to see in the Fender he helped design, the Jag-Stang. The Jag-Stang was born from Cobain sketching mutant mashups of the two models, re-assembling scissored photographs of both, then pulling together components that could cover the breadth of his aggressive but melodically articulate sounds. The end product was a quirky instrument. I have an original that I treasure for punky, thrashy chording, open tunings, and unhinged soloing—practices Cobain would have no doubt approved of. But in more straight-ahead applications, the Jag-Stang always left me contemplating a laundry list of modifications I would enjoy to make it warmer and more stable.
Fender Jag-Stang played through black-panel Fender Tremolux and Universal Audio OX using tweed Deluxe-style cabinet emulation.
- Bridge humbucker alone
- Neck single coil alone
- Bridge and neck single coil together in phase
- Bridge and neck single coil together out of phase
- Pickups played in same order as above with Boss SD-1 Super OverDrive with level, tone, and drive at noon.
The most recent Mexico-made iteration of the Jag-Stang, while identical to original specification in nearly every respect, irons out a few rough edges that made the model less appealing to traditionally aligned players. It feels both more refined and more inviting.
More Horse Than Cat
The Jag-Stang favors the equine side of that relationship. The bridge, vibrato, pickup switching, control layout, and even the body dimensions owe much more to the Mustang than the Jaguar. In fact, the most overt nods to Jaguar lineage are in the shape of the upper horn and the lower hip, both of which accentuate the offset, flying-while-sitting-still Jaguar-ness in the body profile.
As with the original Jag-Stang, the neck (which was shaped to match one of Cobain’s favorite Mustang necks) is a slinky, narrow, and relatively slim length of maple that evokes many slender necks I’ve encountered on mid-to-late-’60s Mustangs. By my ruler—and Fender’s spec sheet—the nut measures around 1.575", which is narrower than the 1.650" nut width featured on the current Vintera ’60s Mustang, American Original ’60s Jaguar, and many other instruments.
It’s perceptibly slimmer than your average Fender, and for players of smaller stature or that just like the sensation of navigating a neck this compact, it’s a blast. In spite of the compact feel, the neck still has 22 frets. And while the fret spacing might frustrate players used to performing lead acrobatics in more spacious expanses, adaptive, creative, and open-minded players will dig how it facilitates navigation of odd intervals and chord shapes as well as fleet-fingered leads. My original’s made-in-Japan neck has a little more roll at the edge of the vintage-correct 7.25" fretboard. For most players that already dig the comfortable, compact proportions, the ever-so-slightly sharper edge won’t make much difference. Curiously, the guitar also features a slab fretboard—an unusual touch for a neck built to late-’60s specifications.
Through an overdrive, the bridge humbucker sounds awesome, and you don’t need much pedal gain to make it mean and massive.
Mighty Mite
I bought my second hand Jag-Stang because I play Jaguars and liked the idea of a humbucker in a 24"-scale guitar. My dreams of a short-scale that could dish Peter Green tones were dashed pretty quickly. The original Jag-Stang humbucker was just too hot and comparatively flat in terms of color and character. The new Jag-Stang’s bridge pickup, however, sounds and feels slightly but significantly improved. It’s still explosive with a juiced amp or distortion in the mix. But it also sounds a lot less cramped and abrasive in the midrange than its predecessor. It’s also more responsive to guitar volume and tone attenuation, which means you can add a touch of PAF-like wooliness and explore more nooks and crannies in the EQ curve. Through an overdrive, the bridge humbucker sounds awesome, and you don’t need much pedal gain to make it sound mean and massive. It also retains great capacity for note detail in these supercharged modes.
The neck position single-coil has many characteristics of a hot Stratocaster unit. It’s a bit more inclined toward overdrive than a vintage-voiced Fender single-coil, and at times feels less dynamically responsive and nuanced. But like the bridge pickup, it also feels responsive to guitar volume and tone adjustments. The two pickups work well in tandem, too. The in-phase combination (enabled by moving both pickup’s slider switches to the aft position) sounds great straight into an amp, though it can sound a bit compressed and jumbled with added pedal distortion. The out-of-phase setup is fun, too, yielding scads of scrappy, toppy garage tones when you send the signal direct to a loud amp and super-focused pedal-distortion tones that sound deliciously nasty against prominent bass accompaniment.
The Verdict
The Jag-Stang is not the most fantastically versatile Fender ever, but it’s full of surprises. As you’d expect, it shines in garage-y and punky settings. Distorted tones emphasize a dryish sense of detail over sheer mass or a PAF’s soft contours. But there’s a lot of room for expression in that palette, and the new pickups’ improved response to volume and tone knob coloration expands the possibilities.
Like many Fenders from the company’s Ensenada, Mexico factory, the Jag-Stang is pretty close to flawless. It’s probably about 20 times as tuning stable as my MIJ original. The narrow neck and short scale won’t delight everyone. But if you approach different guitars without preconceptions, you’ll be thrilled and surprised at the fast maneuvers and phrasings the Jag-Stang makes possible. Needless to say, many fundamental sounds are geared for Cobain-style fire, but you do not have to be a Nirvana fan to extract unexpected tones and inspiration from this distinctive and unique Fender.