Guitar legend Nuno Bettencourt crashes his own Rundown to showcase the “Bumblebee” guitar he cooked up to honor Eddie Van Halen, while bassist Pat Badger shares two killer stories about basses that once belonged to members of Van Halen and Aerosmith.
Nearly 40 years ago, Nuno Bettencourt walked into Mouradian Guitar Co. in Boston, where Pat Badger was working. They formed a bond that would change their worlds—and ours—with the multi-platinum band Extreme. In March of 2024, Badger, Bettencourt, and their tech John Thayer invited PG’s John Bohlinger to talk through their current rig.
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Washburn Wrecking Crew
This Washburn N4 was developed in collaboration with Nuno Bettencourt, Washburn, and Seattle-based luthier Stephen Davies. The guitar was introduced in the mid-to-late 1990s and became Bettencourt's primary guitar. The 4N features a balanced alder body with a Seymour Duncan ’59 in the neck and a Bill Lawrence L-500 in the bridge, plus an ebony fretboard and a Kahler whammy that was featured on the earliest iterations. Later production models included a Schaller tremolo before landing on the current Floyd Rose dive bomber for off-the-rack N4s. Nuno’s strings are a custom set of GHS Boomers (.009–.052) and his custom-made picks come from Grover Allman in Australia.
Sweet As Honey
This is “Bumble Bee,” a custom-painted N4 tribute to King Edward that was done by the luthier Craig Stofko behind CHS Custom Guitars, based out of Carmel, New York. It’s a standard Nuno Washburn signature, but with a maple fretboard (a first for Nuno and the N4 series).
Softer Sounds
This Washburn Festival EA20S-Nuno Bettencourt is in the video for Extreme’s song “More Than Words,” which was filmed over 30 years ago.
This custom-painted Washburn 12-string acoustic is heard on “Hole Hearted.”
Triple Duals
Nuno tours with three Marshall JCM 2000 Dual Super Leads. Usually, he only runs one through a Marshall 4x12 cab. (There are six total onstage but only one is hot and mic'd.) All the cabs are loaded with Celestion G12T-75s that combine a huge, tightly controlled low-end and aggressive mid-range with a softened top-end.
Nuno runs few effects. In front of the amp, there’s a battery powered Pro Co RAT (which stays on all the time), a Boss OC-5 Octave (plugged in and connected for just two solos), and a script logo MXR Phase 90 without a light. There’s also a Boss GT-8 that runs through the effects loop of the Marshall for delays.
Kingly Gifts
This Mouradian CS-74 bass is Pat Badger’s number-one. The alder-bodied bass, fitted with an EMG pickup, was built for Tom Hamilton from Aerosmith. About two years ago, Tom gave the bass to Pat. This and all of Badger’s basses are strung with Rotosound Ultramag Strings (.045–.105).
This Mouradian one-pickup bass was built for Michael Anthony from Van Halen. Michael passed it along to Pat a few years ago.
This classic ’80s Hamer Blitz bass is a recent Reverb purchase.
Badger's Den
Badger tours with two Ampeg amps: a SVT-4 Pro and a SVT Classic. There’s a wall of 4x10 cabs underneath them, but only one is used.
Pat runs his bass into a Boss TU-3 tuner, Boss GE-7 EQ, EHX Micro POG, Pro Co Rat, Tech 21 SansAmp Bass Driver DI, and EBS Billy Sheehan Signature Drive.
Shop Nuno Bettencourt & Pat Badger's Gear
Washburn N4-Nuno Vintage USA Electric Guitar
Washburn Nuno Bettencourt N4 Authentic Signature - Natural Matte
Seymour Duncan SH-1n '59 Model Neck 4-conductor Humbucker Pickup - Black
MXR CSP026 '74 Vintage Phase 90 Pedal
Pro Co RAT 2 Distortion / Fuzz / Overdrive Pedal
Boss OC-5
EMG 35DC Active Ceramic Modern Humbucker Bass Pickups
Rotosound UM45 UltraMag Type 52 Alloy Bass Guitar Strings - .045-.105 Standard 4-String
Ampeg SVT-CL 300
Ampeg SVT-810AV 8x10"
Ampeg SVT-4PRO 1200-watt Tube Preamp Bass Head
EBS Billy Sheehan Ultimate Signature Drive Pedal
Tech 21 SansAmp Bass Driver DI V2 Pedal
Electro-Harmonix Micro POG Polyphonic Octave Generator Pedal
Boss GE-7 7-band EQ Pedal
Boss TU-3 Chromatic Tuner Pedal with Bypass
A vintage Gibson might have been a missed opportunity, but it inspired a pair of builders to reach for greatness.
Everyone has that “one that got away” story, and as a former small-time vintage-guitar dealer, I’ve got more than a few. The blue-chip examples that passed through my hands haunt me, but there were others that just spoke to my soul. I have fond memories of the hunts, catches, and the releases. Even the ones beyond reach or missed opportunities were exciting. Still, there was one encounter that sticks out maybe more than all. In fact, it led to my 50-year-and-still-counting stint as an instrument builder.
In the late 1960s, the Sound Post was a guitar shop in Evanston, Illinois, not far from where I lived. The owner, Rudy Schlacher, was a former violin maker who had cut his retail teeth at Chicago’s famous Guitar Gallery in the early 1960s before opening his own shop. One of my high school buddies, the late Greg Bennett (designer and founder of Greg Bennett Design) worked at Sound Post, so naturally, I was a familiar face in the store. Schlacher was always trying to entice customers to purchase music gear in novel ways and was the first person to extend store credit to me—a blessing and curse.
One day, while perusing the shop’s usual fare, I noticed an odd-looking guitar hanging on the wall. It was a pale yellow color and shaped like a mutant Dorito. The banana-like headstock had a Gibson logo and a sign that read $10,000 in big numbers. This was when a Les Paul Custom sold for $595, so, naturally, I thought it was a joke, but Schlacher wasn’t kidding. He explained that what I was privileged to see was an extremely rare instrument that few heard of, and even fewer had actually seen. I wasn’t sure if he was exaggerating, but he wouldn’t pull it off the wall for me to play. It made a big impression—I was obsessed.
Fast forward a couple years and a thousand life lessons later, I’d learned all about the Gibson Explorer and why Schlacher had put an impossibly high price on his. He didn’t really want to sell it—it was theater. Through the small community of guitar traders, I had made the acquaintance Chicagoan Jim Beach, owner of Wooden Music on Lincoln Avenue on the city’s North Side. Jim was an accomplished machinist and woodworker who made instruments in the back of his small store. He’d been crafting solidbody electrics of his own design but had also made a few Flying V and Explorer replicas as well.
“The banana-like headstock had a Gibson logo and a sign that read $10,000 in big numbers.”
My business partner, Paul Hamer, and I recognized an opportunity to create a hybrid version of our favorite vintage instruments, and we purchased a mahogany husk from Jim in raw state. The previous year, in 1973, we’d created a Flying V bass for me with the help of John Montgomery, a local repair guy who handled our shop’s more difficult jobs, like finishing and neck breaks, in his suburban basement. Montgomery had done some fine repairs on a customer’s Les Paul Standard and had put a flame maple veneer on a Les Paul Professional for the Dutch virtuoso Jan Akkerman, so we had the right ingredients to do something interesting.
What we envisioned was a unique guitar with a bound maple top—a cross between Schlacher’s Explorer and the vaunted ’59 Gibson “Burst.” The mainstream didn’t even know about vintage guitars yet, but that didn’t matter; we knew what we wanted. With some coaxing, Montgomery descended on the Beach husk while we collected the hardware and basically got in his way trying to help in his basement shop. Progress was slow but steady, and by December of 1974, the woodwork, binding, and paint was done at Montgomery’s, so the parts assembly and setup could be completed at our Northern Prairie Music store in Wilmette. We’d put an original PAF humbucker in the bridge position, and the guitar sounded remarkably good. We called it the Standard.
The next day, December 7, 1974, we brought a load of vintage guitars backstage to a Wishbone Ash concert at the UIC Pavilion in Chicago, including the newly minted modern vintage Explorer, which we showed to guitarist Andy Powell. He passed on the guitar, but bassist Martin Turner inquired about having an Explorer bass built. Turner and I sat down with pencil and paper and mapped out the specifics: Thunderbird pickups and bridge, narrow neck, 34" scale, and a gloss black finish with a small amount of metalflake, to look “like the night sky,” as Turner described. As we left the venue, Paul wondered out loud, “How the hell are we going to do this?” I just replied that we’d figure it out, just like we always did. We had our first “Modern Vintage” order, and the rest is history. Even the ones that get away can serve a purpose. And thanks to Rudy, for refusing to let me touch that Explorer.
Gain is fun in all its forms, from overdrive to fuzz, but let’s talk about a great clean tone.
We’re all here for one thing. It’s the singular sound and magic of the stringed instrument called the guitar—and its various offshoots, including the bass. Okay, so maybe it’s more than one thing, but the sentiment remains. Even as I write this, my thoughts fan out and recognize how many incarnations of “guitar” there must be. It’s almost incomprehensible. Gut-string, nylon-string, steel-string, 12-string, 8-string, 10-string, flatwound, brown sound, fuzztone…. It’s almost impossible to catalog completely, so I’ll stop here and let you add your favorites. Still, there’s one thing that I keep coming back to: clean tone.
I’ve had the luck and good fortune to work in the studio with Robert Cray, and it was the first time I watched how a human being could split the atom with tone so pure that you could feel it in your blood, not just your gut. It’s a piercing voice like heaven’s glass harmonica. Now, I’ve had fellow musicians turn up their noses when Cray is mentioned, but that’s their problem. I love a saturated guitar—my Analog Man King of Tone cranked way up high in the clouds—but it’s a power trip. I know it’s scarier to get it right when down low and tight. Fearless Flyers tight.
It’s not that I don’t like distortion. I’ve chased saturated and singing sustain all my guitar life. I’ve experienced it all, from big amps with quads of Mullard bottles glowing brightly as they approached meltdown, to tweed combos turned up to a sagging and farting 12. There have been racks full of effects piled upon effects—hushing, squashing, squeezing, chorusing, echoing, and expanding my guitar’s output like some Lego sound transformer. The good, the bad, and the relatively unknown. I even tried building my own amp line with a friend when I was 17 years old just to get what I heard in my head. But when I’m honest with myself, the stinging clean sounds of guitar strings are what move me the most.
When I started playing guitar, clean was about all you could get. If an amp started to distort or feed back, we worried that the amp might burst into flames.
When I started playing guitar, clean was about all you could get. If an amp started to distort or feed back, we worried that the amp might burst into flames. I didn’t understand how it worked, but I learned fast. The instruments didn’t ignite, but the sound did. That buzzing, clipping tone hid all my bad finger technique, and I was on my way, squealing and spitting fire from the speakers. The neighbor lady complained to my parents, so, clearly, I was doing something right. It was the power I was looking for in my young life. Clean tone was a thing of the past; long live the square wave on the throne of 16 speakers piled high above the stage.
Many of us have clamored for that thick distorted sound we’ve heard on records and in concerts. Guitarists still curate their collections based upon the building blocks we all discovered during our formative years. It started on the early rock ’n’ roll recordings, when small combo amps got turned up loud to compete with the horns. Bluesmen dimed their amps on Chicago’s Maxwell Street to be heard down the block—good for business. The Brits cranked it up a notch and we players took notice. To some degree, clean was being pushed out. Then, in 1978, “Sultans of Swing” and “Roxanne” came clean. Alongside the slow burning rise of metal, the chiming clarity of the guitar returned to the fray. I’m not trying to build a definitive timeline history of popular guitar sounds here. I’m just merely acknowledging that they ebb and flow. But I always come back to clean.
Even the apex of thick, fat, beefy tone—the PAF humbucker—was and is built for bold hi-fi tone. Its shimmering, articulate clean highs are often lost on period recordings or lousy playback systems. If you doubt it, listen to Michael Bloomfield’s piercing tone on “Albert’s Shuffle” found on the Super Session album. His contemporary, Peter Green, also made extensive use of the clean tones available from his PAF-loaded axe on seminal Fleetwood Mac recordings. Humbuckers can play sweet and clear. It’s worth contemplating that some of the most revered guitar sounds ever committed to record were, in fact, cleaner than we remember. Don’t even get me started with country music.
A lot can be said about practicing guitar with a frighteningly clean sound. Strip away the fuzz and echo and bask in the glory of that stringy, popping, slicing tone that will reward your progress but punish your carelessness. Even after all these years, I’m a sloppy player. But getting it right when all the distortion is put back in the toy box is a scintillating high you can be proud of. It’s just a different addiction. The best part is that when you dial up the dirt again, it feels like flying.