No one’s really toured for a year, but that hasn’t stopped us from catching up with guitarists of all stripes to find out what board candy has got them excited. Pandemic be damned! Here are some of the coolest stomp stations from the last year of PG Rig Rundowns.
Caspian's Phil Jamieson
Post-rock instrumentalist Phil Jamieson’s most recent live board features four main food groups—dirts, loopers, delays, and reverbs—plus Electro-Harmonix Voice Box and MEL9 pedals for a snack. A Boss GE-7 graphic EQ—used for a clean boost with low-mid punch—is always on, while a Strymon Sunset and an Empress Heavy provide three layers of beef.
Next is an Ernie Ball VP Jr. volume pedal, then a TC Electronic Ditto X4, which Jamieson favors for its hold and tape-stop modes. Four more Strymons follow—a TimeLine, an El Capistan (“The pedal I can’t live without”), a blueSky Reverberator, and a Flint. At the end of the signal chain are a Boss RC-3 Loop Station loaded with samples for use as interludes, a mini black box for dramatic signal cuts, and a TC Electronic PolyTune Mini.
Nick Perri — Photo by Justin Higuchi
The Underground Thieves frontman (and former hired gun with Shinedown and Perry Farrell) has a fairly modest and old-school board.
His guitar signal first hits a vintage Dallas-Arbiter Fuzz Face, then proceeds to a Texadelphia Germanium Booster, a Sir Henry Uni-Vibe clone, a Metropoulos Supa-Boost, a Peterson StroboStomp HD, a Maxon AD999 Analog Delay, and a Hamstead Soundworks Signature Analogue Tremolo.
In 1960, saxophonist Steve Lacy played in Thelonious Monk’s band … and took notes for us.
Some musicians wear weirdness like a costume they put on to appear cool/deep. Then there's Thelonious Monk, a person from beyond the Valley of Cool and Deep. When Steve Lacy—a Jewish, white soprano sax player who was into Dixieland jazz—did a four-month stint in Monk's band in 1960, he recognized his boss' genius. Lacy kept a notebook with him, jotting down Monk's advice verbatim. This became an insider's guide of do's and don'ts for working musicians.
Some of the advice remains inscrutable: “You've got to dig it to dig it, you dig?" If you, gentle reader, can decode these mysteries, please share your conjecture in the comments section online. For now, let's focus on what mere mortals can glean from Monk's advice.
“Pat your foot and sing the melody in your head when you play." Being deep in the groove isn't a conscious thing. You can't think your way into it. You get there by feel. Sometimes it seems like when you become conscious of the groove, it goes away. Tapping your foot gets your body moving so you will literally feel it and internalize the beat. As an added benefit, a pat, tap, or stomp is percussion in acoustic environments. On some recordings, you can't tell if it's drums or Monk's foot scuffing the floor. Either way, it's music.
Often during gigs and occasionally while reading a chart during sessions, I'll catch myself thinking about what I have to do after work, or something equally inane. In short, I'm not present. I've tried the old sing-the-melody-in-you-head trick and found it makes me more in the moment, less likely to lose my place, and what I play helps reinforce the melody.
“Stop playing all that bullshit, those weird notes, play the melody!" Monk was innovative, brilliant, and probably mentally ill, so his playing had some weirdness. As he grew more famous, players who jammed with him felt obligated to play weird notes. But Monk's weirdness had a musical point that serves the song; weird-for-the-sake-of-weird doesn't. Few things are more annoying than watching competitive musicians try to out-weird each other.
“Let's lift the bandstand!!" Monk's first touring gig was with an evangelist and faith healer. If you've ever been to a tent revival and heard a gospel band in full flight, you've rode the musical wave that goes from a soft whisper to a mighty oar. When you think it can't possibly get any bigger, it doubles-up and you feel the stage raise. Since Monk experienced this power firsthand, this advice might be referencing that magical/spiritual energy that lifts everyone onstage and, in turn, the audience.
“Don't play everything (or every time); let some things go by. Some music just imagined. What you don't play can be more important that what you do." This is a hard rule for guitarists. Classic rock taught us that when the singer stops, we fill. But try letting a verse you'd usually fill go by and you'll feel the mood of the song shift. When you come back in, your notes will carry more weight. Music is a conversation. Like any conversation, what is said means more after a poignant pause. There's also meaning in the silence. Added bonus: It takes longer to burn through our bag of go-to-riffs when we lay out.
“Stay in shape! Sometimes a musician waits for a gig, and when it comes, he's out of shape and can't make it." During this pandemic, I've played very little pedal steel because that's one instrument that's way more fun to play with a band than alone. I got a last-minute gig this weekend and learned on the bandstand that I was sadly out of shape. By the time I remembered how to play, I couldn't think of what to play. It was a deeply humiliating experience. I kind of wanted to cry on the long drive home. Once it's time to perform, you've lost the chance to prepare, so always be ready.
“(What should we wear tonight?) Sharp as possible!" Monk petty much invented the jazz cat in shades and a beret, or fez or porkpie hat. Presentation matters. You can't always control what you sound like, so at least look good.
“Whatever you think can't be done, somebody will come along and do it. A genius is the one most like himself." Monk knew genius because he was surrounded by it. From his piano, Monk watched Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Charlie Parker change music forever by taking their instruments and imaginations places where nothing had ever been. Maybe there were so many geniuses in that era of jazz because they watched their seemingly normal friends often do incredible things. This made them realize there are no limitations or boundaries.
Genius may be contagious. Although George Harrison didn't think of himself as a songwriter, he wrote some genius-level songs because he watched two kids he grew up with write genius-level songs all the time, so he knew it was possible. You can hear Harrison becoming less like John and Paul and more like Harrison with every album. Maybe pushing boundaries is where we become more ourselves and less like those who influenced us.
Thelonious Monk's Advice to Steve Lacy (1960)
- Just because you're not a drummer, doesn't mean you don't have to keep time.
- Pat your foot and sing the melody in your head, when you play.
- Stop playing all that bullshit, those weird notes, play the melody!
- Make the drummer sound good.
- Discrimination is important.
- You've got to dig it to dig it, you dig?
- All reet!
- Always know... (Monk)
- It must be always night, otherwise they wouldn't need the lights.
- Let's lift the bandstand!!
- I want to avoid the hecklers.
- Don't play the piano part, I'm playing that.
- Don't listen to me. I'm supposed to be accompanying you!
- The inside of the tune (the bridge) is the part that makes the outside sound good.
- Don't play everything (or every time); let some things go by. Some music just imagined. What you don't play can be more important that what you do.
- Always leave them wanting more.
- A note can be small as a pin or as big as the world; it depends on your imagination.
- Stay in shape! Sometimes a musician waits for a gig, and when it comes, he's out of shape and can't make it.
- When you're swinging, swing some more!
- (What should we wear tonight?) Sharp as possible!
- Don't sound anybody for a gig, just be on the scene.
- These pieces were written so as to have something to play, and to get cats interested enough to come to rehearsal.
- You've got it! If you don't want to play, tell a joke or dance, but in any case, you got it! (To a drummer who didn't want to solo.)
- Whatever you think can't be done, somebody will come along and do it. A genius is the one most like himself.
- They tried to get me to hate white people, but someone would always come along and spoil it.
A popular and particularly versatile mode from the Space and H9 processors is now an easy-to-use stompbox all its own.
RatingsPros:Unusual, even organic, expansive reverb sounds. Well-designed, easy-to-use interface. Smart streamlined feature set. Intuitive, creative feel. Dedicated secondary function switch. Cons: Expensive. Street: $279 Eventide Blackhole eventideaudio.com
| Tones:  Ease of Use:  Build/Design: Value:  |
Reviewing Eventide's Space reverb back in 2011, I was impressed with how many shades of ambience had been stuffed into one box. But I also distinctly remember spending more time in the Blackhole mode than any other. I was happy that the Blackhole settings sounded fantastically, cosmically expansive without relying on some of the more overt “shimmer" tricks that can be a big-reverb cliché. Later, out in the wider world, I started running into engineers that were using the Blackhole mode in the studio and even in live settings to add ambience to mixes.
So the fact that Eventide elected to give the Blackhole a dedicated stompbox of its own is no surprise. What is striking is how functionally streamlined the Blackhole is compared to the Space and H9 processors that are also home to Blackhole-mode sounds. Thanks to a well-conceived control interface, Blackhole isn't much more complicated than, say, a Boss pedal. But it's still very powerful, and its features have been distilled to a functional, practical group that facilitates intuitive, creative experimentation, reveals tremendous textural range, and is easy and super fun to use.
The Heart of the 'Hole
Any player that has messed with the Space—or Eventide's other larger-form stomps—will recognize the basic functionality of the Blackhole's control set. Each knob has two functions, and secondary functions are accessed via a small, LED-illuminated push button at the upper right of the pedal. Most are self-explanatory and common. Others, like “Gravity" (which regulates the level of reverse reverb) and “Q" (which controls the resonance of frequencies emphasized with the EQ ), are less-common reverb functions, but shape the reverb color profoundly. Other practical features include a freeze footswitch, stereo output capabilities, and a guitar/line level switch. You can also save and recall five presets via a sequence of footswitch and push-button maneuvers, though as many as 127 presets are available via midi.
Outer Limits, Dark Corners
Though you can get many pristine, soaring, and seemingly infinite reverb tones from Blackhole, its most appealing attribute might be its ability to generate organic, cloudy, diffuse, and complex ambience. For instance, adding quick delay and using the powerful EQ creatively along with reverse or long feedback settings can yield all kinds of artifacts and reverberative collisions that you may rationally recognize as digital in origin, but which sound deeply mysterious and relatively unpolluted by the hard-clipping, sterile tones, harmonics, and artifacts that make many big digital reverbs sound cheesy.
My Bloody Valentine fans—especially those who chase the deep, slow-reverse warpage of “To Here Knows When" or “Moon Song"—will find immersive and addictive approximations of Kevin Shields' reverse reverb settings when the gravity is set about half-way to its deepest reverse position, the pre-delay is fast, and the mix is set to aggressive, if not 100 percent, wet mix settings. Even if you aren't a disciple of Shields, you may find a whole new way of relating to your instrument in those modes, and create unexpected sound worlds that can become the foundation for entire songs or melodic hooks.
Reverbs that suggest interstellar expanses and submarine environments are far from the only ones on tap. Smaller size settings, lower feedback, and careful EQ can generate awesome garage-y reverbs that sound a lot like a spring reverb amp recorded to tape and mic'd at a distance in a big, reverberative studio. If I was a engineer aiming for the mood and color of a mid-'60s studio guitar sound rather than perfect spring-reverb-in-an-amp authenticity, I might be inclined to use this setting instead of the finest spring reverb emulation. And though the Blackhole has clearly been optimized for performing players with overflowing pedalboards, it's easy to see the Blackhole finding favor in studio production situations—just as its big brother Space did.
The Verdict
Eventide's Blackhole reverb is a fantastic creative tool. There are reverbs, even within the Eventide family, that deliver more conventional, familiar, and accurate cosmic-scale, shimmer, and cathedral-style reverbs. But while Blackhole can generate many such sounds, its strengths—indeed, its heart—is its capacity for organic, tarnished, dusty, patina'd, reversed, and unfamiliar reverb voices that spur new creative vectors. That it's now available in such a simple, easy-to-navigate, and feature-rich compact stompbox marks a beautiful convergence of adventurous sound design and prosaic concerns for space and convenience. At $279 it's not cheap. But the musical ideas and directions Blackhole can inspire are harder to put a price on.
Be sure to watch our First Look demo of the Eventide Blackhole: