In the pedal-building community—as in Alcatraz—sharing is caring.
When I have a conversation about business with someone outside of the music industry, I often find it leads to a discussion of competitors or competition. These terms tend to place a comedic smile upon my face. Both of those words are almost always used by the person not in the music industry. As natural as the concept of competition is, the response I give is often received as unnatural. This could solely be because folks are not used to hearing how our industry actually operates internally.
We have the immense pleasure of working alongside inspiring and creative companies. The word alongside often falls short of fully illustrating what is going on. This brings me to the part of the conversation that tends to catch people off guard. As for the aforementioned “competition,” there really isn’t any. At least not in the traditional sense. If anything, that is almost solely something perceived by consumers. Years back, a colleague was curious about how a certain pedal manufacturer achieves a specific feature in its design. This company is a big player in our industry—a household name in effects pedals. After my colleague sent an email inquiring about the feature, this company replied and attached a picture of a schematic. I have difficulty picturing the designers at Ford sharing engine diagrams with Chevrolet.
Another example of the collaborative nature of our industry: There are a handful of pedal manufacturers out there that have their circuit boards designed by other pedal companies. I am one of them. Smaller companies that are starting out have hired me to bring their ideas to life on the inside. This can lead people to ask, “Why are you helping the competition?” My main reply to that question centers on one word: respect. Let me elaborate on that. A start-up company might seek my services because they enjoy the products we make, they like my circuit board design work, and they know it will not directly conflict with one of our products. Our community has a deep, ethical respect for other pedal companies. I often find myself recalling late nights on the slopes of New Hampshire, skiing past a sign that read “Respect Gets Respect.” Outside of the monetary value and experience gained by working with other companies, this also reinforces and strengthens our community ties.
I often find myself recalling late nights on the slopes of New Hampshire, skiing past a sign that read “Respect Gets Respect.”
The idea for this month’s column goes back a year or two. However, the root of the idea extends back decades. It is inspired by the 1996 film The Rock, in which Sean Connery uses his extensive knowledge of the Alcatraz prison infrastructure to both infiltrate and escape it. In one scene, he and Nicolas Cage are locked in two cells. He manages to open the cell doors by tying together sheets from his bed and tying them to a wheel from the bed frame. Then, he’s able to swing the wheel over a release lever that opens the cell doors on his block. After opening the doors, he walks by an awestruck Cage and says, “Trade secrets, my boy.”
Trade secrets? Those two words have confused me since I first heard them together. I think the lack of deeper context is the culprit here. Was it, “These are trade secrets I will not share,” or was it, “Let us trade secrets with each other?” It is, by definition, the former. However, in our little corner of the world, it is almost exclusively the latter.
I often file information sharing into the philosophical drawer, followed by community reinforcement. Let us play out a scenario: A person reaches out to me about starting a pedal company and inquires about several aspects of the start-up process. First, merely reaching out shows an important level of ambition. Once I’ve learned about that person’s knowledge and aspirations, I proceed to answer any questions they might have. Armed with the information and tools, the ball is in that entrepreneur’s court. It is all going to come down to an investment of effort and persistence to achieve their goals. I would argue that whether the inquirer follows through or not, I was not the deciding factor. That person was or was not going to do it regardless of my involvement. It is also likely that they will develop their own processes and go on to share their findings with others–thus becoming another co-author of our community’s open book.
I wonder if other industries share a similar open-book policy? Also, if anyone has those Ford engine diagrams, send me an email.
State of the stump: Our columnist built this dub-inspired oscillator inside the shell of an old walkie-talkie bearing Radio Shack's Realistic brand name.
How a walkie-talkie, a tiny city of circuits, and Shrinky Dinks became a mind-blowing dub box.
My phone has become a repository of gut shots and glamour shots of my pedal builds. Once a year or so, when it gets full, I dump the photos onto a hard drive for safe keeping. Every time I do, it turns into an all-day trip down memory lane. I go back—all the way back—to when I first started building pedals, and I look at my progression from then until now. I find it so rewarding to have a visual journal of all the work, love, and intention that I put into them. It's a representation of my learning journey and a reminder of how many friends I have made along the way.
Recently, as I was scrolling through, I found photos of what remains my favorite build to this day. I want to share my experience building it. As some of you know, I love to make guitar pedals out of broken, old electronic equipment. It's honestly my passion. In particular, I enjoy gutting busted walkie-talkies and building fun things inside. The old steel cases just look so cool! This particular Realistic Rover-1500 walkie-talkie became a dub-siren-turned-guitar-pedal. I named it the Loe-Fi Dub Siren. You can hear it on Instagram.
A dub siren is a type of synthesizer used predominantly in dub reggae. It is usually a relatively simple oscillator, housed in a box, often allowing for a variety of waveforms to be altered by turning potentiometers controlling pitch, rate, and other parameters. Dub sirens are frequently activated by a button and sometimes have the functionality to toggle between continuous synthesis with one button press or sound-emission-only when the button is held.
I just love it when there is an uninterrupted, smooth flow to a rather complicated build.
I built this oscillator circuit and added a small delay circuit to it as well. It sounded really cool and was fun to jam on during testing. I decided to take it one step further and add a sweep filter so that it could sound just like the King Tubby records I took my inspiration from. After I had it all finished, I had a thought: What if I add an input jack? Then, I could play guitar, or whatever, through it and play along with the oscillator. It took some figuring out, but eventually I got it all working. It was a pretty complicated build in the end.
I took my string-of-many-circuits that was ready to go and began the process of figuring out where everything was going to fit inside the walkie-talkie enclosure. This is probably the biggest challenge of all when building inside salvaged enclosures. They are often molded and, therefore, have a lot of odd protrusions to work around when considering where all of the circuit boards can be mounted. I also needed to figure out where the controls would go.
Next, came the drilling. Let me tell you, drilling steel is no fun! Not for me, anyway. Why did I have to put so many controls on this thing? After about an hour of careful drilling, the walkie-talkie was ready for population. I carefully followed my notes and built a little city inside. Then, I moved onto wiring. Many folks who build electronics loathe the wiring process, but I love it and enjoy the challenge of doing it neatly. Nothing gets me as excited as a gut shot with really tidy wiring.
This cool, jungle-themed badge on the side of Aisha Loe's Loe-Fi Dub Siren was painstakingly made from Shrinky Dinks. It took about 20 tries to get right.
After all the hardware and circuit boards were mounted, I tested the finished work. I made a few little last minute tweaks and deemed it ready for knobs. I ridiculously obsess over knob selection. I think it's a pretty common thing among pedal builders, actually. The knobs tie the whole thing together visually. A lot of thought goes into not only aesthetics, but also how they feel. They're going to get touched a lot, so they should feel nice!
As a finishing touch, I made a name badge for the finished pedal … out of Shrinky Dinks! (If you don't know that these are, google them. They're cool!) Yes, you read that correctly. I don't know why that idea popped into my head, but it did. So, I went with it. I learned that it takes about 20 tries to get it right! I vowed to never do that again. It does look pretty sweet, though.
I learned so much in the process of putting this pedal together. Sometimes my experiments lead me down paths that dead end. I learn a lot, whether it becomes a pedal at the end of my journey or not. This one gave me a win at every turn. Every idea and modification I had for it worked out so well. I just love it when there is an uninterrupted, smooth flow to a rather complicated build. The experience of building this dub siren is a cherished memory, and the pedal now belongs to one of my favorite musicians of all time. Dreams do come true! This build will always remind me of that.
King Tubby - Real Gone Crazy Dub (Crazy Baldhead Dub)
Listen to visionary reggae producer King Tubby work the dub siren in his composition "Real Gone Crazy Dub." The sound is addictive, freaky, and psychedelic.