Ted’s to-go kits: the silver box and the Big Black Bag.
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.
Ted’s favorite gear guru, Dolly, has a nose finding the worthwhile.
How many guitars, pedals, and amps do you need? Enough to make you happy. But window shopping alone has its own benefits.
I just got back from the NAMM show, and I am suppressing the nervous twitch of desire. My eyes and ears were flooded with all kinds of great gear, from cutting edge software plugins to microphones to—my favorites—pedals, amps, and guitars. With so much new gear around, G.A.S. was so abundant you could almost smell it hanging over the show floor. (Sorry, I could not resist.)
As you all know, I’m talking about Gear Acquisition Syndrome, the disease for which there is no cure. I have 15 guitars—17, if you count a cigar box and a diddley bow—that cover the sonic waterfront for me and then some. So why would I want more? My tube and solid-state amps are carefully curated so I can recreate all the classic tones I love, and with my quirky playing approach and equally carefully assembled pedalboard, I can put my own spin on every one of them.
And yet … I return with a pocketful of maybes. Maybe that new semi-hollow with the sleek neck and coil-splitting would get me another tone I can’t quite access now? Maybe that pedal would make it easier to accommodate pitch shifting while I solo? Maybe it’s time to add a bona fide high-gain amp, or dive into modeling?
I used to think these impulses were unhealthy. Especially when I was a touring indie musician and had no money to spend on gear. (One of musical life’s great ironies is that club-level working musicians often earn so little that they can’t afford to increase or upgrade the tools of their craft.) But I’ve changed my mind, thanks to my dog.
“You should never pick up interesting things with your mouth.”
Dolly, who is going on 17, is slow … or perhaps methodical … when we go on walks. But every inch of the way she is sniffing, her ears are up, and she stops to spend time looking at and smelling anything that captures her interest, even for a moment. That’s a great way to spend NAMM and to examine gear, with senses and imagination open, considering the potential of everything for your music, prepared to evaluate impulses without prejudice. (But, unlike Dolly, you should never pick up interesting things with your mouth.)
Considering a piece of gear is not the same as buying it, or I’d be broke. And evaluating these flirtations can lead to something good. Let’s say you’re smitten with a brand-new $250 modulation pedal. But after careful consideration and inspection, you realize you can get a similar sound with the chorus or vibrato you already own, and a delay or reverb pedal. The tempting new gear has led you down a path of finding a new, purposeful sound in your current gear. Same with a drive pedal. It’s fresh, it’s raw, it’s low and singing—and maybe with a bit of compression it isn’t very far from the sound you can get with your current overdrive if you just roll back the tone controls on your 6-string. And what about that semi-hollow? Maybe what I really need is a 10-band EQ pedal so I can approximate semi-hollow and hollowbody tones on all my guitars at whim, which would certainly inject a different voice into the solos or choruses of songs in my repertoire. Sometimes looking at new gear reminds us of the full range of our current musical real estate holdings. And that’s great. It’s easy to get in a rut and overlook the potential of gear you already own. (Parallel question: How many of you really make full use of the tone and volume controls on your instruments? I find this to be an oddly neglected zone of exploration, even this many years beyond Eric Clapton’s unfortunately dubbed “woman tone.”)
That said, there’s also not a damn thing wrong with buying some new gear. In fact, it’s great. Guitars, pedals, amps, microphones, plugins, and even accessories seem to get better all the time, which means we probably all have some room for upgrades if we’re able to make them. Same with the tones produced by modern emulations of vintage gear, which ideally get more on the nose with every iteration, while adding improvements to tonality and performance. In terms of consistency and playability, today’s well-made guitars are perhaps the finest ever built, in some cases outperforming the templates that inspired them at much lower cost. And, as the saying goes, every guitar—or pedal, or amp—has new songs inside of it, waiting to be discovered.
Hopefully you’ve gorged on the videos and reports from the NAMM floor that we’ve shared at premierguitar.com with you this month. There was a lot to see, hear, and smell. Well, maybe not smell, but I think you know what I mean. Never be afraid to chase gear temptation, because it can often lead you to interesting places.
To go or not to go, and the perils of the no-show.
“The NAMM Show is quickly approaching!”
That’s either a battle cry or a warning, depending on your perspective, heard biannually in the music industry. (At least in non-pandemic years.) The most universal analogy I use for NAMM is: “Think of it as Comic-Con for music gear.” For many of us in the instrument business, the trade show seems to be constantly looming. In addition to convention preparations always occupying the back of our minds, I feel it has also created pressure for companies to release products around its schedule, if not almost dictated it.
I have lived on both sides of the curtain. I used to be in the audience, wondering how I could gain access to the show as an exhibitor. I have also been backstage, directly involved with most of the aspects of presenting Coppersound’s pedals. So, I’ve got a perspective of NAMM from both viewpoints. And with the latest NAMM show just behind us, that perspective is the catalyst for this month’s column.
As an outsider looking in, a big attraction to attending the event is seeing what new products are going to be released by some of my favorite companies. That hunt rarely requires clues because exhibitors typically plaster their booths with media and signage that promotes their newest releases. For us manufacturers, that also raises a big question: “Should a company present at NAMM without a new release?” That query naturally does a cannonball into the pool of philosophy. But for the sake of this article, I would prefer to keep the focus more in the pool of psychology—most notably appearances and perception.
As an insider looking out, I have had many conversations in the past with industry colleagues about all aspects of attending NAMM. We often discuss booth layout, travel plans, shipment logistics, costs, and more. There is also a specific day that we all wait for: the day the show map is made public, and each exhibitor can see the upcoming floor plan. We can see who our booth neighbors are going to be and take stock of what other companies will be attending. And therein lies the root of the most speculation, along with possible concerns.
“What should drive new products is the excitement of innovation and not the notion of releasing something just to release something.”
The showroom floor is filled with many types of companies within the industry, big and small—from single-owner outfits with a small table-top booth to medium operations with five to 10 employees to large household names occupying a booth the size of a mall food court.
Everybody, regardless of size, attracts attention in one way or another. However, it is not uncommon to worry about a lack of attendance if we see large companies—who tend to attract lots of music-store order writers—not attending the event. That’s especially troublesome if there is a lack of big presenters within our own line of business.
If a large, established company does not attend the show, people will notice and ask themselves, “Do they know something we don’t?” If a small, younger company does not attend, it’s quite possible those who are used to seeing that company’s booth will ask, “Are they not around anymore?” Especially in our Covid-tinted world.
I also wonder if attending the NAMM show is the perceived benchmark of determining if one has “made it.” I often define success by the act of achieving a premeditated goal. For those that do not know, registration for NAMM is many months before the show dates. If you are a company that has presented at these shows in the past, you will most likely not want to attend again without a new product. After all, new products are the big attraction. This brings us back to the release schedule for new products. NAMM is traditionally held twice a year: during winter in Anaheim and summer in Nashville. These shows are about six months apart. If a company decides to present at both shows, that entails a pretty intense product-release schedule—especially for small outfits. For larger companies, that’s typically not as difficult. But for even a medium-sized company looking to place and/or keep their flag in the ground, it can still be very tough.
I am a big proponent of the belief that deadlines create productivity. So, the NAMM release schedule may actually be a good thing for companies like ours. However, I feel that what should drive new products is the excitement of innovation and not the notion of releasing something just to release something.
So, while I deliberate our future NAMM events, here’s another thing that’s under my skin: Does anyone else find that the word biannually meaning both twice a year and once every two years is confusing?