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
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.
The stereotype of the messy artist is a tired old meme. Get it together and get organized.
It’s hard to admit that you’re a slob. Lack of organization is pretty much looked down upon in most professional arenas. It’s also hard to imagine successful people waking up on stained futons and stumbling through a minefield of snack wrappers while looking for their cleanest dirty shirt. That is unless that wealthy schlump is a famous rock star. Is it the artist’s way, or letting go of the illusion of control? Either way I think it’s a stereotype—and one that cuts both ways.
Like a child who is repeatedly told they’re not good enough, sometimes we talk ourselves into playing a part that doesn’t let us spread our wings. Maybe you think that cleanliness and order get in the way of creativity and performance. I used to think that, too. Then I read an article about Roger Penske, one of the most successful racing team owners of all time. Even from the time he was a rookie driver he was known in the paddocks for having immaculately prepared cars. Other drivers and teams were amused by Penske’s mechanics, who kept his cars sparkling clean top and bottom, inside and out, for each and every run on the track. They thought it was some kind of show or blamed it on his ego. But that fastidiousness meant that Penske’s team could spot a tiny leak or potential part failure that might have otherwise been hidden by grime. A well-maintained machine allows the driver to do what they do best—drive. You can roll your eyes, but it’s hard to argue with 18 Indianapolis 500 wins, and 16 season championships.
If you imagine that keeping a race car clean is different from organizing the wiring on your pedalboard or keeping your workbench tidy, you’re running uphill in lead boots. Concise and well-ordered workspaces allow problems to stand out and are therefore easier to diagnose. Reduction of clutter allows you to attend to the creative stuff, which is the whole point. For those who say that friction is fodder for the creative endeavor, I challenge you to write a song about hunting for a screwdriver in a cluttered drawer. On second thought, that’s something that people can relate to. Another thing we can all relate to is having our guitar cut out in the middle of a gig. It’s easier to fix quickly when the signal chain is clearly routed and marked. I know a guitarist who has an emergency bypass pedal that circumvents his entire board directly to the amp via a redundant cable for just this purpose. Maybe that’s a little over the top, but the show must go on, right?
For those who say that friction is fodder for the creative endeavor, I challenge you to write a song about hunting for a screwdriver in a cluttered drawer.
In the workshop, it’s much the same. You don’t need the headache of searching for something in a disorganized bin when you’re in the flow. Concentration is doing one thing at a time, so endlessly looking for tools or parts in a place that resembles a war zone breaks your attention. Preventative protocols can keep things on track. When I visit or see photos of workshops with piles of parts and tools everywhere, I feel sorry for the employees and the customers.
Visual systems are priceless. Whether it’s your workbench or your signal chain, it’s helpful to color code stuff. It makes things easier when you’re in a hurry, or just trying to finish on time. Wire ties come in a rainbow of colors and, aside from anchoring cables down, can serve as guides. Determine a code and start with simple things like white means in, red means out. This makes it simple to troubleshoot a problem. If you have multiple systems or paths, use more colors. Laminate a legend on the gear reminding you or a tech what’s what. In the workshop, tools and jigs can be color coded. I have small sanding block racks that have different grades of abrasives loaded on each block. The slots on the racks are colored to each grit, which is also marked on the blocks. I know which grit goes with each color, so I never reach for the wrong block. It takes a little time to get the hang of it without resorting to looking at the numbers (also stamped on each block), but guitarists are good at remembering sequences.
Musicians have often been pictured as shambolic, but the vision of a painter’s studio piled high with half-squeezed tubes of paint and rags soaked with mineral spirits is a tired old meme. The truth is that buying into the myth of creative disarray is not helping any cause. Instead, a dose of tidiness can really work to your advantage. So, stop painting yourself into a false narrative and revel in the freedom that neatness neurosis provides. Now, where did I leave my label maker?