Traveling with a collection of spare essentials—from guitar and mic cables to extension cords, capos, tuners, and maybe even a mini-amp—can be the difference between a show and a night of no-go.
Anyone who’s seen a spy flick or caper movie knows about go bags—the always-packed-and-ready duffles or attachés filled with passports, a few weapons, and cash that’s ready to grab and run with when the hellhounds are on your trail. As guitar players, we also need go bags, but their contents are less dramatic, unless, maybe, you’re playing a Corleone-family wedding.
We need the essentials for gigs in our go bags, and that's somewhat subjective. At one point, for me, that included a bottle of Jameson, but no longer. I guess that’s a way of saying that our priorities change, so over time the contents of our go bags will, too.
Now, I have two go bags: a small one for local gigs or quick weekend runs, and a big, fat, roller-wheel bag for short tours or special event gigs, like album-release shows or festivals. The small bag is actually a silver box covered with stickers, and this is what it has inside: two sets of GHS Boomers .010 strings, a couple picks, a string winder and pointy-nose clippers for string replacements, two guitar cables, an extra clip-on tuner, a couple of 9V batteries, a slide, a capo, and a few 6" guitar pedal cables. If I’m not using a backline, I also tuck in an AmpRX BrownBox. (I’ve clocked 127 volts coming out of the walls in some Nashville clubs.)
The Big Black Bag, as it’s named, carries all of the above and a lot more. Ever been to a gig where an adequate number of mics were promised … and instead there were none? Or where a bandmate forgets a guitar strap or cables? Or the temperature’s pushing into the high 90s and there’s not a stage towel to be found? Those problems and more have fueled the packing of my Big Black Bag. Here’s what’s inside: six guitar cables, a half-dozen 9V batteries, six pedal cables, two guitar straps, an extra TU-3, five stage towels, a paint brush (for improv), four microphone cables, an XLR to RCA adaptor, an acoustic guitar soundhole plug, two rolls of duct tape, two SM58s, two SM57s, my BrownBox, four extension cords, a maraca (’cause why not?), a guitar multi-tool, pointy string-clippers, four sets of GHS Boomers, a wall-socket tester, string winders, capos, slides, two 2' instrument cables (for off-board pedal testing or emergency bypasses), $20, a flashlight, a replacement guitar-to-transmitter cable for my wireless, and several AC power cables should one be missing from an amp or other backline gear. And that doesn’t include the slides, capos, and vibrator I keep in my pedalboard case, along with an Ebow.
“When bandmates have forgotten cables, cords, capos, slides, or picks, I’ve had them covered.”
If that seems excessive … well, I’ve used all of it at one time or another. When bandmates have forgotten cables, cords, capos, slides, or picks, I’ve had them covered. When a PA went down in a funky little room—and I play as many funky little rooms as possible—I was able to plug a mic straight into an amp to finish a show. Mic or cable failures? I’ve had those covered, too, for the band and the house. No juice hitting the amp? Well, the wall tester showed a dead outlet.
I’ve played a lot of small towns where there either isn’t a guitar shop within an hour or simply isn’t a shop at all. And if there is, it usually closes at 5 p.m., just about when we’re getting ready to load into the gig. On co-bills, I’ve also bailed out other bands with cables, slides, capos, and even loaner guitars. ( I enjoy seeing other musicians play my 6-strings, to hear how different they sound on my very familiar gear.) All the times I didn’t have these extras and needed them over the years have taught me to pack like a Boy Scout.
There’s also the voodoo factor, which dictates that if you’re prepared for gear failures, they won’t happen. It’s only when you’re going to be caught off-guard that Baron Samedi sneaks in and fries a transformer or kills a switch in your favorite overdrive.
If you don’t have a go bag, it’s time to put yours together. It doesn’t have to be as extreme as the Big Black Bag, but I suggest you think about its contents carefully. A good go bag helps you keep going as a musician. And as you know, the show must go on—unless it really, absolutely can’t, and that’s sad for all the people you want to make happy, including yourself.
The legendary animated metal band is back with Dethalbum IV, a Def Leppard-in-an-arena-sized approach to gruesome, Cannibal Corpse-style riffage. Metalocalypse mastermind Brendon Small tells us how his cartoon came to life.
If fate hadn’t intervened, Dethklok’s newest album, Dethalbum IV—the first since 2012’s Dethalbum III—probably would’ve sounded quite different than it does. That’s because Dethklok mastermind Brendon Small would’ve enlisted his tried-and-true equipment: enviable guitars up the wazoo, a go-to Marshall cabinet with Celestion speakers, and at least a few mics. Instead, some thieves saw to it that Small take a different approach when they robbed his home studio.
“I think some people saw me carrying guitars back and forth and crowbarred my studio door, so my main A-league guitars were kaput,” Small recalls somberly. After the robbery, he moved everything out and went undercover. “I went into the modern world of direct recording,” he explains. “It pushed the record into a different place than my normal ‘safety gear’ would’ve.” In the theater world, one might raise their hands above their heads and exclaim gleefully, “unexpected results!”—the inevitable and, often, positive outcomes of unintended actions.
Metalocalypse: Dethklok | Gardener of Vengeance (Lyric Video) | Adult Swim
If anyone knows a thing or two about unexpected results (and theatrics), it’s Brendon Small. Having cultivated a career that he refers to as “whatever it is that I do for a living,” Small somehow managed to marry a Berklee College of Music guitar education with Emerson College comedy-writing classes to create a wildly unique career path for himself. Born in 1975, Small first gained widespread recognition as the creator, writer, and co-producer of the animated television series Home Movies, which aired from 1999 to 2004. The show followed the humorous exploits of a young boy named Brendon, his friends, and their amateur filmmaking endeavors. Small’s most notable achievement, however, came with the creation of Adult Swim’s animated cult classic Metalocalypse. It was the medium through which he finally, successfully, combined his songwriting and comedy-writing talents.
Premiering in 2006 and running for four seasons, Metalocalypse depicted the fictional band Dethklok embarking upon absurdly dark adventures as the self-proclaimed “heaviest metal band ever created.” Metalocalypse blended humor, satire, and heavy metal culture with sharp musical performances and scores, creating a unique and, ultimately, beloved experience for metalheads and animation fans alike. Small created and produced the series, provided the voices for several main characters, and composed most of the music featured in the show, including the tracks performed by Dethklok. In August, nearly a decade since the cliffhanger ending of The Doomstar Requiem – A Klok Opera in 2013, Metalocalypse finally returned with a full-length animated movie. Written and directed by Small, Metalocalypse: Army of the Doomstar brings Nathan Explosion (vocals), Skwisgaar Skwigelf (lead guitar), Toki Wartooth (rhythm guitar), William Murderface (bass), and Pickles (drums) back together for another action-packed journey.
Brendon Small's Gear
Dethklok creator Brendon Small resurrected the animated band this year after a decade-long hiatus.
Guitars
- Epiphone Brendon Small GhostHorse Explorer
- Fender Jazz Bass
- Gibson Explorer
- Gibson Snow Falcon Flying V
- Ibanez JS240PS with Sustainiac mod
- Ibanez Tom Quayle Signature TQM1
Amps & Effects
- Neural DSP Quad Cortex Quad-Core Digital Effects Modeler
Strings & Picks
- Dunlop DEN09544 Electric Nickel .095–.044
- Dunlop Ultex 1.14mm
Released in conjunction with the movie, Dethalbum IV is a bludgeoning aural assault that showcases Small’s knack for combining glossy production with “some of the ugliest sounds” he could conjure. “There’s this melding of the putrid and the beautiful that I’m trying to smash together,” he attests. Songs like “Aortic Desecration,” “Gardner of Vengeance,” and “Poisoned by Food” may be lyrically silly and satirical—even gross—but the music is serious business, on par with Mastodon, Lamb of God, and other like-minded metal bands who combine cunning songcraft with stunning instrumental proficiency. Riff-heavy, melodic, and merciless, Dethalbum IV is an expertly crafted record where death growls are overtaken by soaring melodies and vice versa, guitar histrionics are undergirded by monstrous grooves courtesy of drummer Gene Hoglan, and the production aesthetic, perhaps largely due to Small’s unintended switch to direct recording, is easily Dethklok’s slickest yet.
Simply put, Dethalbum IV is a fierce musical statement that deftly combines hook-laden melodicism with fist-pumping metal. “There was a point where I was listening to this record, and I’m standing back and going, ‘This is much more aggressive and much heavier than a Dethklok record normally,’” Small explains. “[Producer] Ulrich Wild really landed the bird with this one, getting it to that aggressive and modern place, which is somewhere between Cannibal Corpse and Def Leppard’s Hysteria.” Small calls this amalgamation of influences “stuff that hits your DNA” when you’re a kid. “The impressionable parts stay with you,” he admits.
“Doing a Dethklok show is like storming the beach at Normandy during a laser tag battle.”
Despite being Dethklok’s de facto studio guitarist, what really sets Small apart from many other contemporary shredders is that he considers himself a writer first and foremost. “Ever since I had a guitar, I was always trying to write music on it,” he says. “Even when I couldn’t play it, I would just start to write ideas or lines or a riff on the lower strings.” Composition first, and then form-fit around it, he likes to say. “I like to come up with stuff, either in the script form or with some kind of instrument hanging around, from keyboard to guitar to spoons—whatever I can do.”
Even though he ultimately gravitated towards traditional recording techniques (like a mic in front of a speaker cab), Small admits that having digital options early on made his guitar and comedy-writing career possible. “I don’t think I could have made music unless I had that Line 6 POD in the very beginning,” he admits. “I’m a writer who happens to play guitar, and I have to find a way to mangle these sounds into something that makes sense. I’ve got to get the sounds down in the big notepad that is the Pro Tools session.”
Though his return to direct recording was a matter of necessity, it was influential to the overall sound of Dethalbum IV, and Small asserts that he tried to let the music unfold naturally. “At some point, I look at the record and go, ‘Whatever this is, I can’t stop it from being what it needs to be,’” he says. “There’s something in the pineal gland that’s driving it from the astral plane pushing it forward.” Ultimately, he attests, the Dethklok characters start to take over in his mind: “Nathan Explosion is making decisions, and Skwisgaar wants more notes, and I’m like, ‘Okay, I’ll see if I can make it work because I’m not as good as that guy,’ so I have to really work it.”
After thieves plundered his home studio, Small decided to record Dethalbum IV without any amps—a homecoming of sorts for the early Line 6 POD user.
Speaking of Skwigelf, Small cites one big difference between Dethalbum IV and previous Dethklok records. “Now Skwisgaar has a whammy bar and 24 frets,” he chuckles. “There are dive-bombs on this record that I never did before, but I wanted to be able to do what Jeff Beck did, get a little bit more expressive—go from the fixed bridge to the whammy. I’ve had guitars with it, but I just wanted to finally put them on the record. There’s just a little bit more goose in it.”
“I think if you’ve decided to jump onto the carnival train that is your own creative life, you have to bob, weave, fail, and succeed all in a matter of 20 minutes every single day.”
Small’s cross-section of music and comedy began during his time at Boston’s Berklee College of Music in his junior year. “I started having forward thoughts of my impending doom, like, ‘I’m going to graduate, and what the hell am I going to do with this guitar? I love it, I hate it. What am I going to do?’” he recalls. He was also having a hard time corralling the school’s curriculum into a solid identity for his own guitar playing. “I’m in a jazz chord lab figuring out what Joe Pass used to do. Then, I’m thinking about Danny Gatton in my country lab, and then I have advanced concepts of prog-rock where I’m learning about Gentle Giant, and then I’m in traditional harmony trying to mimic an étude or learn how to write a chorale, or voice leading, or figured bass, or any of that cool stuff, and I’m having some kind of musical identity crisis and fearing the end of school and the real world.”
Instead of going the weekend-warrior route via gigs posted on a corkboard at Berklee, Small pursued internships at two different jingle houses in New York. One was David Horowitz Music Associates, and the other was Michael Levine Music. “Michael Levine wrote the Kit Kat theme: ‘Give me a break, give me a break…,’” Small sings. He soon realized that his roommate Jed, from Emerson College, had what he deemed a much cooler internship with Conan O’Brien.
For real-life concert appearances, Small brings Dethklok to life alongside an all-star band that includes Mike Keneally (guitar), Nili Brosh (guitar), Bryan Beller and Pete Griffin (bass), and Gene Hoglan (drums).
Small’s fly-on-the-wall experience tagging along with Jed at the late-night talk show prompted him to draw up a plan for his future. “I went back to Berklee in my final year, and I started taking writing classes along with Emerson [students],” he explains. His assignments included writing a spec script and a sample episode of a TV show, and demonstrating he could write character, story, jokes, and tone. “I saw that it’s like a good piece of music,” he says. “You’ve got an A theme, a B theme, and maybe a C theme, and how do they all intertwine into this final pocket at the very end?” Conceptually and structurally, it made sense for Small: “It was like the études I was studying. There was something baroque about it that I understood.”
These combined college experiences ultimately led Small to start thinking about the intersections of songwriting, screenwriting, and acting, and how that combination might be a viable career path for him. “If you can make sense of your guitar enough to score music, I think ultimately that’s a battle of you versus yourself,” he says. “Once you prove that you can take this foreign object [a guitar] and make it a part of you, you can do that with anything. You just have to learn where the knobs are, where the frets are, how to bend notes, and how to find your rhythm. Everything’s a storyline, from a piece of music to a piece of media. Whatever it is, there’s a beginning, a middle, and end. Ultimately, it did me well to think of them as similar things.”
“Everything’s a storyline, from a piece of music to a piece of media. Whatever it is, there’s a beginning, a middle, and end. Ultimately, it did me well to think of them as similar things.”
To bring Dethklok to life for this year’s Babyklok Tour alongside Babymetal, Small enlisted heavyweights Mike Keneally (guitar), Nili Brosh (guitar), Bryan Beller and Pete Griffin (bass), and Hoglan (drums). While preparing to hit the road, Small was focused on the aspects of live performance that the concert experience demands of him. “Doing a Dethklok show is like storming the beach at Normandy during a laser-tag battle,” he chuckles. “There’s lights and craziness and fog and haze, and you’re like, ‘Where am I?’ There’s a lot of muscle memory and position memory that has to be there. I have to think about the lyrics, the vocalizing, and if all I can see is the low E string, and I’m on the high E string, I have to trust that my hand remembers where it needs to be.”
Circling back to “whatever it is I do for a living,” Small offers the following wisdom for those interested in pursuing an artistic life: “I think if you’ve decided to jump onto the carnival train that is your own creative life, you have to bob, weave, fail, and succeed all in a matter of 20 minutes every single day,” he says. “How do you stand back and try to conceptualize and solve a problem? I think that’s what makes it fun, and treacherous, and terrifying, and filled with failure, and a little bit of success.”
YouTube It
Dethklok shreds a live performance of "Thunderhorse" for the Adult Swim Festival Block Party, combining thrilling Metalocalypse-style animation with furious technical performances.
Using a contact mic on your acoustic guitar has many advantages—and can open the door to some adventurous experimentation.
For example, during a chamber music concert, I placed a contact mic under the chess board as we reenacted, move for move, the legendary 1972 World Chess Championship Game 6 of Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky, while rice grains were dropped on the board as the rest of the ensemble made an ongoing soundtrack. (I highly recommend watching HBO’s 2011 documentary, Bobby Fischer Against The World.) In short, it’s my go-to initial technique for making totally new sounds, textures, timbres, samples, and sound design that I incorporate into my music. Tighten up your belts, the Dojo is now open.
Vibration Positive
Before we start, there are many benefits of using a contact microphone. It can pick up sounds that are not audible to the human ear. For example, if you attach the microphone to a metal surface and strike it with a mallet, you will hear not only the sound of the mallet hitting the metal, but also the vibrations of the metal itself. Which is exactly how Ben Burtt got the blaster sound effects for Star Wars—by hitting a certain radio tower’s support wire (guy wire) in the Mojave Desert.
“It’s my go-to initial technique for making totally new sounds, textures, timbres, samples, and sound design that I incorporate into my music.”
Recently, I showed our students at the Blackbird Academy how to create new samples and sounds by attaching a contact mic to the outside of a 5-gallon water jug, then pouring water inside and hitting the side of the jug while gently swirling the water. We eventually ended up with an entire “water jug” drum kit.
Another benefit of using a contact microphone is that it can eliminate unwanted background noise. Because the microphone is only picking up vibrations from the surface it is attached to, it is less likely to pick up ambient noise in the room. However, because it is sensitive to vibrations, it may pick up unwanted sounds from handling or movement. Also, it may not capture the full range of frequencies that a traditional microphone would capture.
Lastly, they really come in handy for older vintage acoustic instruments that you may want to leave in their original state and have the flexibility to mic from any position without harming them.
Um … How Do I?
To use a contact microphone, you need to attach the microphone to the surface you want to capture the sound from. I only use Loctite Fun-Tak Mounting Putty because it is non-permanent, leaves no residue, and is non-tarnishing, malleable, and non-toxic. I simply place a tab of the Fun-Tak on the back of my contact mic and then mount it to whatever I want to record.
Check out Fig. 1. You can see I’ve attached my Zeppelin Labs Cortado MkIII mic ($159 street) to the headstock of my National Estralita Deluxe. This gives me that piezo/electric sound that I can in turn reamp or process with plugins, etc.
Be sure to experiment with different placements all over the instrument to find the sound you are looking for. Ever wonder what it might sound like inside your slide when playing slide guitar? Tape the mic on the top of your slide and play away. But don’t stop there! You could also place it on electronic kids’ toys that make noise (toy pianos, baby shakers, celeste, handheld electronic games), or pitched percussion, like kalimbas, log drums, vibraphones, and even cymbals. Or, think way outside the box—literally. Mount it on all kinds of cups, glasses, bowls, buckets, doors, and windows. Or on glass shower doors (outside the shower of course!), or the inside of your car windshield the next time you wash your car or it rains, flagpoles on windy days, park slides, merry-go-rounds, swing sets, and basically anything else you can imagine.
After you get some great source sounds, head back to the studio, keep what you like and process the sounds with reckless abandon. Until next time, namaste.