Ever think of adding EQ to your signal chain? Here’s a brief but definitive guide on how to get started.
Equalization is a powerful sonic-sculpting tool. Almost immediately after we figured out how to convert the music we hear into electronic waveforms, electronic engineers devised circuits to manipulate those signals by attenuating and accentuating different frequency bands. In recording studios, equalization can subtract bass from a boomy kick drum or add sibilance to a breathy vocal. In sound reinforcement, we can equalize the response of a PA in a room with less than ideal resonances.
These resonances add or subtract energy from the PA output and present an uneven response to the audience. Equalization adjusts the PA’s frequency response to account for those room dynamics and makes the response even, or equal, across all bands.
Human hearing is usually understood to extend from 20 Hz to 20 kHz. The frequency range of the guitar is much more limited, typically ranging from around 80 Hz to 6 kHz. Interestingly, the human voice shares a great deal of the same bandwidth, meaning the same ears and audio-processing centers that are fine-tuned for distinguishing the differences in voices can readily adapt to distinguish the differences in guitar tones. Accordingly, small adjustments in frequency equalization can have big effects in the ears of the listener, making a world of difference in a guitar’s fundamental sound. No amount of EQ will turn a red-knob Fender Twin into a Marshall plexi, but a little EQ might be all that stands between the sound in your head and the gear that you already own.
There are a host of EQ guitar pedal options on the market, from the venerable Boss GE-7 graphic equalizer (which contains preset frequency centers and bandwidths) to the new-fangled Empress ParaEq (which contains fully adjustable frequency centers and bandwidths). If you’re an EQ neophyte, stick with a graphic EQ. The sliders will be spaced evenly, and you can train your ear to hear the difference between frequencies before graduating to the laissez-faire frequency selection of a parametric EQ. As you’re learning what each frequency does for your sound, pull the fader all the way down and listen carefully, then push it all the way up and do the same. Listening to the EQ at these extremes may help you key in on the change at a more tasteful setting. Make a habit of turning the effect on and off to sample what it is doing relative to your unaffected signal.
It may be helpful to think of EQ as a flavoring agent. Like a little salt enhances a dish’s existing flavors, EQ can make for some tasty tones. If you have an overdrive that you’d like to make a little more “screamer,” add a bit of 800 Hz. If your sound has got a little too much of that green pedal honk, cut 800 Hz just a hair. If your chunky rhythm sound lacks clarity, cut from 200–250 Hz. This is where the low-midrange mud lives.
“If the unobtanium overdrive du jour is a Ferrari, then an EQ is like a Honda Accord.”
Almost every move has a practical reciprocal. You can add clarity by cutting low mids or boosting high mids by a commensurate amount. I normally recommend cutting first as a rule of thumb, as excessive boost can make things squirrelly, due to increased overall gain. That said, boosting around 500 Hz can add midrange body; around 2 kHz can help a neck pickup cut through the mix; and around 5 kHz can add airy click to your sound.
As you tweak, remember the upper-frequency bands will have more of an effect when placed after overdrive and distortion in your signal chain, as those processes generate harmonics that add energy to higher frequencies. But, there are no hard and fast rules. Adjust with listening ears! Your sound is like a ball of clay, and EQ can help you shape it just how you’d like.
Experiment with EQ placement as well. Apply EQ after dirt in order to carve your signal like the channel strip on a mixing console. Apply EQ before overdrives to cause them to saturate sooner at specific frequencies. This can greatly affect a pedal’s feel as well as sound.
If the unobtanium overdrive du jour is a Ferrari, then an EQ is like a Honda Accord. It’s practical, modest, and functional, but most people don’t dream about owning one. However, with the ability to subtly sculpt and cut or boost in the extreme, EQ can get you where you want to go.
The scoop on the rarest of Fender solidbodies.
Hello and welcome back to Mod Garage. This month, we will have a look at the most weird and elusive Fender guitar ever: the Marauder. We will not only cover some really interesting technical details, but also its history.
I think it’s fair to say that the Fender Marauder, like Gibson’s Moderne, was ahead of its time, and neither guitar made it beyond the prototype stage—at least not as originally designed.
The Marauder’s ’60s production model came with three pickups in a Jaguar-style body, many rocker switches, German carve headstock, and some even with slanted frets. It was later offered as part of the Modern Player series as well as through the custom shop. But the original design and concept of the Marauder was quite different.
In order to see what Leo Fender cooked up in the mid ’60s, we will have to take a short journey back in time, firing up the flux capacitor in our DeLorean with 1.21 gigawatts of energy. Our destination is the Fender factory in California, somewhere between 1963 and 1964—the early beginnings of the space age. The United States worked on the Apollo program at the same time the former Soviet Union worked on the Luna program on the other end of the world. Europe was busy developing and building the Concorde, and Leo Fender, sitting on the porch of his home in Orange County, was ready for his next stroke of genius.
Today, “less is more” is a common approach, not only in the guitar industry. But back then, it was “more is more” and “the more, the merrier.” Leo Fender offered the Esquire with one bridge pickup, and the two-pickup Esquire/Telecaster followed soon after. The next step was the Stratocaster with three pickups, which was mostly influenced by Bill Carson, one of Leo’s favorite guitarist guinea pigs in the ’50s. The next logical step was a guitar with four pickups, and that was exactly the idea behind the Marauder project. There are other guitars with four pickups, like the Japanese-made Teisco/Kawai EG-4T (nicknamed the “Hertiecaster”), or the Italian-made Welson Kinton, Galanti Grand Prix V4, and Eko 500/4V. But Leo Fender went the extra mile with his Marauder concept and installed the pickups underneath the pickguard for a very sleek aesthetic.
“The next logical step was a guitar with four pickups.”
Let’s have a look under the hood: The patent for the Marauder was filed March 6, 1964, and granted December 6, 1966—US patent #3290424—so we can say that developing and prototyping probably started somewhere in 1963. In addition to the four pickups under the pickguard, the original Marauder had a 3-way switch for each of the pickups, plus a Telecaster-style master volume/master tone configuration. On the patent, you can clearly see that the guitar was planned as an offset-type like the Jazzmaster or Jaguar using the same hardware.
There was, however, a one-off prototype built around a Stratocaster that has a dedicated 3-way lever pickup selector switch from the Telecaster and Stratocaster (the 5-way switch was not yet invented then) for each pickup, which looks really weird.
The Pickups
The pickups in the Marauder were designed by a man named Quilla “Porky” Freeman, a Western-swing musician and tinkerer based in Missouri. These large, slightly offset experimental pickups featured a dozen pole pieces and deep armatures, which helped give it a percussive tone. To compensate for the distance from the strings, the pickups were overwound. The patent document clearly states that all four pickups had the same winding direction (phase), but different magnetic polarity. The first (bridge) and the third pickup had south polarity, while the second and fourth (neck) pickup had north polarity, which was a clever move. This was the start of what is known as a “stealth pickup” today, often used as the hidden neck pickup on an Esquire. For such a construction, it’s important that the pickguard material is non-magnetic.
The Switching Matrix
Each of the pickups is connected to its own 3-way on-off-on switch, allowing the corresponding pickup to be on, off, or on with reversed phase, resulting in a total of 48 different sounds between the four. If the idea of these 3-way pickup selector switches sounds familiar, that’s because this is the basic design of Brian May’s “Red Special” guitar that he built with his father Harold in 1963. While that’s the same time frame, it’s close to impossible that Leo Fender knew what Brian May was doing in the U.K., so two geniuses simply had the same idea at the same time.
Here we go with the wiring: The four toggle switches are double-pole on-off-on types, volume and tone are 250k audio, and the tone cap is a 0.05 uF type. To keep the diagram clean, I substituted all ground connections with the international symbol for ground.
Illustration courtesy of Singlecoil
That’s it! Next month, we will talk about a very cool and clever way to integrate a variable dummy-coil into a guitar, so stay tuned.
Until then… keep on modding!
Why do we all reach for the same words when describing our acoustic guitars? Luthiers chime in on how we talk about sound.
Someone—the historical record is unsure exactly who—once opined that writing about music is the same as dancing about architecture. The speaker saw little value in trying to formally analyze or describe a piece of music, an art form so inherently personal and subjective. I might also find it hard to communicate to someone what makes a musical work exciting to me, but when it comes to guitar tone, this is exactly my job at Acoustic Music Works. Whether it’s over the phone or in copy on our website, I’m called upon daily to put the tonal attributes of a particular instrument into words.
It got me thinking: Why don’t I contact some of my luthier friends and industry colleagues to see if there are common threads in how we talk about acoustic guitar tone? It turns out that many of us are speaking a similar language when we discuss what we’re hearing, with many adjectives and buzzwords cropping up again and again.
Trevor Healy of Healy Guitars told me he finds himself using a wide variety of descriptors while communicating in his work, including “sparkle,” “headroom,” “compression,” “body,” and “roundness.” Trevor’s preference is for terms that can somehow be objectively measured, like those pertaining to sustain and EQ. In the end, he relies on customer input, asking them, “How does it make you feel?”
“Every great cello in the world is made of maple. Have you ever heard a bright cello?”—Dana Bourgeois
Brian Dickel, who took over for Jeff Huss when he retired from Huss & Dalton, prefers to keep it simple. “I think descriptors that convey tone in general terms that are easy to interpret such as thin, muddy, dark, warm, etc. work universally better than more flowery language,” he told me. Brian says that “woody,” “warm,” and “balanced” come up most often, and these reflect the tonal profile that he tries to impart into Huss & Dalton guitars.
I’ve always marveled at Chuck Baleno’s scientific approach to voicing, relying on the study of frequencies to dial in a consistently strong sound in his flattop guitars. Baleno says, “I will use ‘tight,’ ‘loose,’ and ‘resonant pitch’ related to frequencies in Hz. Resonant pitch is the main top resonant frequency, found by doing spectrum audio analysis. A tight guitar is in the higher range of frequencies. This will cut through in a band setting, and have strong projection. A loose guitar would be in the lower range of frequencies, and typically has a stronger bass. Obviously, we want the best of both!”
“In the end, he relies on customer input, asking them, ‘How does it make you feel?’”
Certain tone woods almost always prompt the same descriptors. Rosewood is “lush” and mahogany is “woody.” These descriptors can spark deeper conversations, and both are usually considered complementary. Maple, though, is frequently tagged with “bright,” which can be read as vaguely pejorative, and an opinion often issued before the guitar is even played or heard. Here, the wood’s pale appearance might be creating some negative association that can be hard for certain players to overcome. Staining the wood a darker color can flip the mental switch for some skeptics, but as a lover of maple guitars, I prefer Dana Bourgeois’ insight: “Every great cello in the world is made of maple. Have you ever heard a bright cello?”
These luthiers and I are mostly simpatico on the meaning of many tonal descriptors, and it makes me think that a kind of common language has started to naturally develop on the subject. Sometimes, though, enthusiasm for an instrument’s sound can be successfully communicated in a more unusual way. Steve Miklas, owner of Acoustic Music Works, tells of a particular Huss & Dalton CM—made with cedar over koa—which had a tonal profile that he found difficult to put into words. Online, Miklas listed the requisite specs, and then wrote simply, “This guitar is like Thanksgiving dinner. After playing it, you may need to take a nap!” A customer called almost immediately to say, “When I read that, I knew exactly what you meant! I’ll take it!”
Poetry about luthiery? I don’t think anyone would mind.