Shredding on a hardtail? This Schecter will show you the light.

Gorgeous, unusual tonewoods. Versatile pickups and switching. Fast, comfortable playability.

A case or gig bag would be nice at this price.


Schecter Sun Valley Super Shredder Exotic Hardtail Black Limba


David Schecter started Schecter Guitar Research in 1976. In the beginning, the company did repairs and sold parts in their Van Nuys, California, shop (much like their contemporaries, Charvel). But Schecter quickly developed a solid reputation among SoCal players and started selling complete guitars in 1979.

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The hard-rocking, improv-loving KXM consists of (left to right) drummer Ray Luzier, bassist and vocalist dUg Pinnick, and guitarist George Lynch. “The defining feature of this band is the process,” says Lynch. “If we did things the traditional way, it wouldn’t really be KXM.”
Photo by Sebastien Paquet

George Lynch and dUg Pinnick reveal how the band wrote and tracked 12 songs in 12 days to create their latest album, Circle of Dolls.

When George Lynch phoned for our interview, he was in his car making the rounds through the maze of warehouse complexes where famous guitar-gear gurus are sequestered away in the corporate parks of North Hollywood, California. First, Lynch was headed to drop off a vintage Vox Clyde McCoy wah for some TLC by Way Huge’s circuit-wizard Jeorge Tripps. Then it was off to the guys at Arcane Pickups to collect a custom order.

I’m down in that gear epicenter in Burbank three times a week taking care of stuff,” says the veteran guitar hero. It’s kind of like my commute—it almost feels like you actually have a job.” Despite his gripes about the morning trudge, Lynch claims it’s his passion for gear that’s kept him inspired after so many years in the music business. You know why I love Premier Guitar? You guys love gear. I realized recently I’ve never been that interested in theory or a lot of the other things most guitar players are enamored with. But gear—I’m so batshit about it! To me, that’s what keeps it exciting after playing for almost 55 years. The gear keeps it fresh, almost more than the playing aspect.”

That’s no surprise, given Lynch’s penchant for amassing signature model gear, included ESP guitars (he was the first ESP signature artist), Randall amp heads, and various pickups, strings, speakers, and amp switchers—all stuff Lynch has put to good use over the years. Since emerging as one of the highest profile players of the ’80s gunslinger class with Dokken and then his own group, Lynch Mob, he has lent his talents to many projects. But unlike the lion’s share of these, his power trio KXM—which features Korn drummer Ray Luzier and King’s X singer and bassist dUg Pinnick—has kept his attention for nearly six years and three LPs.

During PG’s morningride-along through Los Angeles’ sprawling gear labyrinth, Lynch opened up about KXM’s new album, Circle of Dolls, the joys and challenges of the band’s creative process, and the hallowed gear he employed on the album. Circle of Dolls reveals unexpected sides of Lynch’s playing, including slide guitar, understated solos, and creative soundscapes that might take casual fans of Mr. Scary’s work by surprise, but are ideally suited to KXM’s sound.

For previous albums, KXM crafted songs through improv jams. Is that how you approached Circle of Dolls?
Yes, absolutely! For this album we gave ourselves 12, 12-hour days to write and record 12 songs—not including vocals because dUg does them afterwards. Each song was finished within one day, including overdubs and solos. That’s a lot of work when you’re starting from scratch. You may spend the first half of the day just coming up with the concept and building the arrangement, then rehearsing it so that it’s in your bones enough to play convincingly. If 7 o’clock rolls around and a song still isn’t really working, you’re in a corner and have to come up with a way to make it work. We’ve had some instances where we’ve wished we would’ve spent a little more time on something, but dUg always brings up a valid point: The defining feature of this band is the process and if we did things the traditional way, it wouldn’t really be KXM.

What I’ve always loved about being a musician is that moment when something is conceived. It’s such an exciting moment. The creative process is a mysterious thing to me and the idea behind KXM, and any improv-based music, is that you’re sharing the exact moment that something’s being created with the audience. But it’s hard to capture that moment. I don’t think there are any true jam bands, at least that I know of. I’m a fan of the genre and not to take anything away from bands like Umphrey’s McGee and Phish—they’re insane and I love them—but to me, it’s not really improvised on the spot. There’s usually a safety net to it in some sense, but when a guy like Hendrix would improvise, he was doing a musical high-wire routine without a net. I miss that.

How do you approach that high-wire routine with KXM?
This band is completely unorthodox for me. I’m used to being in bands that do pre-production with written songs and we don’t do any of that. Also, while dUg and Ray are rock guys, they’re unorthodox players. Ray is this ambidextrous, tribal, almost symphonic drummer and dUg has a very unique style. They both present challenges that I love and that force me out of my box. Not in a huge way—it’s still rock music—but odd time signatures, soundscape stuff, and non-traditional changes all present challenges. I love having to push myself out a little further in different directions while staying true to my thing.

“Pushing your envelope is what makes life worth living.”
—George Lynch

I find it very, very difficult these days to record music in a human and honest way. The pursuit of perfection has become so ingrained in how we record now and in the new technology that it becomes sterile. If you’ve ever listened to some of the individual tracks from classic bands like Hendrix, Zeppelin, or Van Halen, so many of the final takes on legendary records have “imperfections” all over them—in a good way! I just laugh and think, “how beautiful and imperfectly perfect it is when it’s all put together.” Bad notes, out-of-tune guitars, voices in the background, amps buzzing away—but it’s okay. It makes it human and so much more interesting.

Describe your core signal path on the new album.
I started out with five amps and I kept swapping one or more out as needed: a ’68 50-watt Marshall plexi, which is my main head these days, a ’71 Park 75 with KT88s, a Bogner-modified early-’80s Marshall JCM800, which has an incredible amount of usable gain, a Trainwreck, and at the end I was using a Mezzabarba for some rhythm parts.

I run everything through vintage cabinets. I used my ’70s Hiwatt 4x12 loaded with purple-back Fanes. I love Hiwatt cabs from that era because they’re ported and overbuilt with 16-ply birch. Those vintage 50-watt Fane speakers do a thing that vintage Marshall cabs don’t. They handle more power, so they don’t break up as easily, but they still get a very pleasing and even breakup. They’re more articulate. I also used an old Orange cabinet loaded with pre-Rola Celestions, which is darker sounding and works great with amps like the Trainwreck or anything that you want a little more low-end beef from. The last cab I used was an old salt-and-pepper basketweave Marshall 4x12 from the ’70s. It’s a little looser sounding and has two British-made Celestion Heritage Greenback 20-watt speakers and two Celestion G12H 55s—the speakers Hendrix preferred. The Greenbacks and the G12Hs are in an X pattern, and I mike them up independently and mix them together.

TIDBIT: The trio takes its name from the members’ main bands: Korn, King’s X, and Lynch Mob.

Is the Trainwreck an original Ken Fischer-made amp?
It’s an original. Ken made me one in the very early ’90s. It was the Express—his Marshall-type thing. I wasn’t really enamored with it, plus he names each amp and I was supposed to have my then-youngest daughter’s name on it but he got the name wrong. He called that one Suzanne. Between the name and it not being my taste as far as Marshall-type amps go, I sent it back. He made me a Liverpool, which is his Vox AC-30-type circuit and really his bread-and-butter. I like using it with another amp. I was touring with it for a couple of years along with a Marshall or a Park, and it’s wonderful like that.

Which guitars did you find to be the most inspiring for Circle of Dolls?
I had three main guitars. I generally like to use something with a fatter sound for my first track, which is the most critical track because it’s the one I’m going to play everything along with after. ESP had made a clone of a ’burst Les Paul that I borrowed to use for an instructional video back in the ’80s. I couldn’t get that guitar, but they had the Japanese custom shop make me an exact replica of it, and that’s what I used for the first track. It has that low-end Les Paul chunk that takes up a lot of sonic space. I layered that sound by doing overdubs with a guitar ESP made me that’s very much like a vintage Tele, but it has the bridge pickup slanted the other way, so it’s not quite that twangy country thing. It’s got more of a rock sound, even though it has a traditional Tele-style Lollar pickup. Those two are what I used for 75 percent of the rhythms.

Typically after I have those two main rhythm guitars tracked, I’ll embellish that with a lot of other stuff. I have a really wonderful ESP electric 12-string that I’ve used on every KXM record. The solos could be almost anything, but I used my ESP Skull ’n’ Snakes signature with a Sustainiac on it a lot, as well as my ESP Kamikaze signature.

I also used various tunings. A lot of it is a half-step down, though sometimes I’ll drop tune the low string when I’m a half-step down. Sometimes I used DADGAD and sometimes random tunings I didn’t even document and have no idea what they were. I’ll have to figure them out again by ear.

How did you get the moody, atmospheric sounds on tracks like “Big As the Sun” and “Mind Swamp”?
It was all done during tracking and I relied heavily on a mid-’70s Mu-Tron Octavider. I bought my original one new in the ’70s and bought a couple backups since. Any time you hear that really distorted monster octave sound, it’s that. For the more atmospheric stuff, I used my Sustainiac, which I have built into a guitar, as well as a couple of pedal versions from the ’80s.

ESP Japan Custom Shop 1959 Les Paul-style ESP Custom T-style ESP “Skulls & Snakes” Signature Model ESP Custom 12-string Electric

Original Trainwreck Liverpool
’70s Park 75
1968 Marshall 50-watt Plexi
Mezzabarba 100-watt MZero Overdrive
Early-’80s Bogner-modified Marshall JCM800
’70s Hiwatt 4x12 loaded with 50-watt “purple back” Fanes
’70s Orange 4x12 loaded with “pre-Rola” Celestions
’70s Marshall 4x12 loaded with two Celestion Heritage G12M Greenbacks and two Celestion G12H 55s

’70s Mu-Tron Octavider
’70s MXR Phase 90
Silver Klon Centaur
’80s Ibanez TS-808 Tube Screamer (with Malaysian-made RC4558P chip)
Strymon blueSky
Hughes & Kettner Rotosphere
Morley George Lynch Tripler
Framptone 3-Banger

Strings and Picks
D’Addario Pure Nickel Superlight Plus (009.5–.044) on 25.5"-scale guitars
D’Addario .010 sets for 24.75"-scale guitars
Dunlop Jazz III Eric Johnson 1.38 mm

I ran the Sustainiac through a Strymon blueSky or another symphonic reverb. Another thing I used quite a bit was the Hughes & Kettner Rotosphere, which is the closest thing I’ve heard to plugging into a real Leslie. I used a vintage MXR Phase 90 on some solos.

My overdrive on most things is a silver Klon Centaur or a second-year, Malaysian-chip Ibanez Tube Screamer. What I’ve been doing lately is stacking the Klon and the Tube Screamer together. You might expect that to be too bombastic and blown out, but it’s not at all. If you set them each lower, it doesn’t give you that much more gain, but they fill in each other’s EQ gaps. You get the mid-bump from the Tube Screamer but, with the Klon added, you don’t lose the low end like you normally do. I also use my signature Tripler amp switcher, which is the only one I’ve ever found without any tonal degradation.

Was there anything specific you wanted to lean into as a guitarist for Circle of Dolls?
I’ve never looked at KXM records—or really most records that I do—as vehicles for me for guitar solos or anything like that. I’m much more excited about writing a song and having the overall album and the sound of the band having an impact. I wish I could give myself credit for having some sort of grand vision, but our music is really just a reaction to playing with each other and whatever comes from an initial spark—which could be anything. KXM has a very democratic and equally split workload—we all come up with some solid piece to anchor the thing and we build around it. We never want it to be too traditional or expected, we want it to shake you up a bit and be slightly challenging, but not completely alien and weird. That’s how we think as a band.

Your solos on the album sound like songs within songs, and often play off the melodies.
It’s funny, there’s been a bit of a negative response to the solo for “Lightning” from journalists and in comments. While I don’t care either way, the criticism has been that the solo is too laid back and understated. Again, my focus is to serve the song and I think that solo did that. It was supposed to be very moody, dark, and melodic—like the rest of the song. It’s beautiful and haunting to my ears and I love it, so I’m not sure I even understand my audience anymore.I actually had a solo at the end where I really went off, but I cut it from the song because I felt like it was going on too long and self-aggrandizing.

What does dUg’s playing bring out in you as a guitarist and songwriter?
What initially freaked me out about dUg’s playing was that he plays counterpoint. He doesn’t always play a part that parallels and mirrors the guitar like bass does in a lot of traditional rock music. A lot of the time, dUg plays a part that’s complementary, but very different from what I’m doing. It can inspire me to try and follow what he’s doing—so it’s a cyclical inspiration that occurs when we write. Beyond that, dUg’s tone is insane. I refer to dUg’s tone as a metallic dragon on acid—it’s almost like a voice: a robotic, futuristic talking bass that sounds like an electronic monster. It does something I’ve never experienced before from another bass player or in that frequency range in general! I love it. Like myself, dUg is not a schooled player. We don’t know music theory, so we have to communicate in ways that people who understand music language would probably laugh at. Plus he’s a lefty, so we’re watching each other play parts backwards and upside down, which can get frustrating sometimes, but out of that comes these unorthodox and really beautiful things.

You’ve been involved with a really wide range of collaborators. Any advice on how to do this successfully?
I look at playing outside my typical box as an opportunity. I’m not trying to impose my style upon someone else’s thing, but would rather use it as a learning experience and a chance to put myself in a place that feels a little bit uncomfortable. When I feel like I’m in control and reigning, then I’m not learning, growing, or expanding my horizons. I want to do that in all things. Life is short and we’re so lucky as artists to be gifted with what we do. I think we have an innate responsibility to treat that gift with the respect it deserves, to take care of it and feed it and help it grow. I always talk about the creative process and guitar playing as a separate entity unto itself. I won’t always be around, but music and guitar playing will always be around and I’m just here to serve that. I know a lot of people that aren’t lucky enough to be born with a passion of some sort, so I feel very fortunate to have the gift and the ability to touch people with the music I’m involved in.

George Lynch with his ESP T-Style, one of the three main guitars he used on Circle of Dolls. “It’s very much like a vintage Tele, but it’s got more of a rock sound,” he says. Photo by Sebastien Paquet

When I did Project Nfidelikah with Angelo Moore from Fishbone and Pancho Tomaselli from War, I was really out of my box. I didn’t impress Angelo that much because the shreddy rock stuff was noise to him in the context of what that band did, and he was right. I was using a Fender Tweed Deluxe and a Tele and playing with a guy with a Theremin and saxes and a lot of weird percussion, but it was awesome. And there are guys that do that kind of thing a lot better than I do, and while Angelo wasn’t that impressed, he’d say, “You hang around with me enough, and we do this long enough, and you’ll be a good punk guitar player!”

You can do a lot more than just one thing as a musician. Exploring different sounds is what makes it exciting. Pushing your envelope is what makes life worth living. You don’t want to have regrets at the end. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with sticking to one style—if you’re Van Halen or AC/DC, you do that because it’s more than enough and that’s great. But I’ve been blessed and cursed with not having gigantic success within a style like that, so I’m not encumbered with something I constantly have to live up to and conform to. I have the freedom and liberty to move in and out of different things and be a shapeshifter to some extent. I obviously have a core style and sound that I build upon, but I’m open to doing it all.

Watch the official video for KXM’s single “War of Words” from Circle of Dolls, and marvel at dUg’s gospel-infused, yet driving vocals and the trio’s outstanding musicianship. At 2:44, Lynch lets loose with a jaw-dropping solo.

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Composer Tyler Bates has been scoring music for film, television, and video games for decades, but he started out in metal bands and had a record deal in the early ’90s with Pet. He’s produced two albums for Marilyn Manson, and toured with Manson as a guitarist.
Photo by Piero F. Giunti

From scoring a long list of film and TV projects that includes 300, Californication, and the John Wick trilogy, to producing and touring with Marilyn Manson, this multitalented composer says he will always be a guitarist first.

Going straight from high school to working in the stock market is an unlikely jump, especially for a musician. But this is what happened to composer Tyler Bates, who’s had a wildly interesting career. In his early 20s, Bates faced a choice: keep climbing the ladder of his firm, or do music full-time. Suffice to say, he left the finance world behind and moved to Los Angeles to pursue his dream. In the mid ’90s, he signed to Atlantic Records with alt-rockers Pet. Simultaneously, while working with Pet, he launched his career—learning on the job—scoring films. His gig with Pet fizzled after their debut, but by that point he was working on low-budget, B-level horror. Within a decade, he worked his way up to writing for blockbusters, although he continued working on indies as well. His long list of film credits includes 300, Watchmen, Guardians of the Galaxy, the John Wick franchise, a host of Rob Zombie slashers, and many others.

Bates also scores for video games and television, and it was through his work on the Showtime series Californication that he met Marilyn Manson. hat association led to Bates co-producing Manson’s 2015 release, The Pale Emperor, as well as Heaven Upside Down in 2017, plus two subsequent tours, which, if it were anyone else, would be an unorthodox route to the rock ’n’ roll life. But Bates’ modus operandi, whether he’s scoring a film or producing an artist—and it’s a consistent refrain throughout our conversation below—is developing a unique sonic language for telling a story.

“When I was doing The Pale Emperor with Manson, I was playing pretty clean guitar stuff throughout the whole record,” Bates says. “He was perplexed at how it sounded so heavy because the typical approach would be big, heavy distorted guitars, but I wanted to create space for his voice. I figured if I had the appropriate guitar sound I could reveal something new—like a new characteristic in his voice that maybe we hadn’t heard before—so I deliberately made that choice with the guitar.”

Bates left Manson’s touring band in early 2018 to return his focus to full-time composing. His current projects include a new feature with James Gunn, as well as a more aggressive, action-themed Cirque du Soleil.

Despite all of this project diversity, Bates is first and foremost a guitarist. “When I brush my teeth in the morning, I still see a guitarist in the mirror,” he says. His studio is a gearhead’s dream, packed full of guitars, amps, and an army of pedals. Guitars are an essential part of his process: They serve as colors in his palette, as tools to break the rhythm of traditional scoring, and to get him away from the computer.

Bates spoke with us at length about his long career, his humble beginnings as a rocker, his creative approach to film scoring, his escapades with Manson, his large collection of guitars and gadgets, and why he can’t seem to stop using his Peavey Classic 50 4x10 combo.

When did you start playing guitar?
I started when I was 12. I’d already been playing alto saxophone at that point. By the time I picked up the guitar, I had a basic understanding of theory, for a kid, but certainly good enough to sight-read well.

Did those reading skills transfer to guitar playing?
They helped me navigate the guitar. It took me a minute, but then a light went off. That, plus the help of a couple of older friends who played guitar, got me going. The first song I ever learned was “Fool for the City” by Foghat. Then “Too Hot to Handle” by UFO, though it would be about three years before I could handle that guitar solo.

Did you study music and orchestration in college?
No. I had some extenuating circumstances surrounding my family, so I went straight from high school, strangely, into the stock market. Besides high school jobs, that was my only real job. I was in a metal band when I was in high school. The other guys in the band were a couple of years older than me. A couple of them worked in the stock market, and they got me an interview with a small firm that ended up growing pretty quickly. I managed a trading firm when I was 19.

Were you still playing in bands when you had that job?
Always music first. During the day I was managing a trading firm, and doing some stock and option trading for a couple of my clients. At 22, the partners of that firm—who I’m still friends with, believe it or not—offered to finance a trading career for me. I’d never even thought of doing that. They said, “Well, you either have to get into trading or just do music.” So I decided, “I’m out. I’ll just do music.”

“When I brush my teeth in the morning I still see a guitarist in the mirror, but I became less focused on playing guitar and more about expanding my mind and musical concepts.”

When did you start playing with Pet?
I met [vocalist] Lisa Papineau pretty quickly after moving back to L.A. in ’93. I was not intending to play in a band. I moved to L.A. to write with different artists and produce records. That’s what I thought I was doing with Lisa, but as people started inquiring about the band on the business side of things—when they got serious—Atlantic Records said, “We’ll sign you, if you’re in the band.” Same thing with our management. I went ahead and did that, and that was cool. In the meantime, I’d been meeting people at parties who were directing things like Roger Corman movies and Saban movies. They had very little money, but enough to pay a month’s rent or whatever. I’d score their movies. I had no knowledge of the craft whatsoever, but I was learning from the directors that hired me, and the producers and editors, and before long I started learning a lot about the business. That really informed me about the point of my job, what the purpose of music truly is in those films. I scored 18 movies before I ever met another composer. But in the meantime, with Pet, we got a deal, and we went to Ireland to record at Tori Amos’s castle. She wanted to be involved with our band, and that was a good experience, but it was one that flamed out pretty quick. We had some issues inside the band that weren’t really tenable. There was a night when we were rehearsing and I just literally stopped playing in the middle of a song and turned my amp off [laughs]. Literally, I said, “I love music too much to do this.” So that was my last note of music in Pet.

Listening to Pet, the song “Lil Boots” for example, one can hear stark dynamic contrasts in your style, which seems to carry over into your film scoring. There’s a consistency to your approach.
It is interesting, especially for people who know my guitar playing from my early metal bands. Back in the day, I did clinics with a friend who I would consider the fastest guitar player I’ve ever seen in my life. We used to play NAMM shows and all that stuff. At some point, it was so far away from what I loved about music and playing guitar that after playing a NAMM show in the early ’90s, I gave all my guitars away and quit for two months. I went back to L.A. and rebooted entirely. I got tired of playing to impress 40 or 50 dudes standing with their arms crossed in the front of the stage. It was more fun playing for people who were just into the music. I wanted to shift my focus in my playing. With Pet, I definitely began to approach the guitar much more as a support for the singer. Pet is really minimalist, almost industrial, and it’s disciplined. It was really refreshing for me to get inside the feeling of the song and not be as myopic in my musical approach. As guitar players, we have a tendency to look out for ourselves and what we want out of the song, and sometimes that comes at the expense of the song. That’s something I definitely matured a lot with.

Tyler Bates has a large collection of pedals, as seen here. One of his favorites is the EarthQuaker Devices Rainbow Machine. “I used it all over the Manson stuff,” he says. “It’s all over John Wick. I played my GuitarViol through that with a Cry Baby wah for John Wick and for the song “Cry Little Sister” that Manson and I covered.” Photo by Piero F. Giunti

Your film career started while you were with Pet, but you said you knew nothing about scoring movies. How did you learn the lingo?
My saving grace was a couple of factors. One was that I had a career in the stock market. I was literally the youngest person to ever manage a trading firm on the [Chicago] Board Options Exchange. That pressure and responsibility really helped my critical thinking. It helped with my complete understanding of accountability, responsibility. There was that. And fortunately, I fell in with some great directors who really gave over the depth of their knowledge and understanding of storytelling. They started to point me in a healthy direction. Also, I’d produced everything that my bands had ever made throughout the years. I was relying on my basic production chops to figure out ways to create and deliver a product.

You knew your way around a studio?
Oh yeah, otherwise I would’ve been dead. If I had to defer to someone else to handle all the tracking and mixing ... I had help mixing throughout the years—I don’t consider myself a mixer—but as a producer, I definitely fine-tune everything.

You grew up professionally in the ’90s, as the world was migrating from analog to digital. Were you an early adopter?
Yes and it’s really crazy. I was in my 20s when I got my first computer. Even though we used computers in the stock market, it wasn’t the same as having a PC. It was really tricky scoring films back then. As technology was being developed, the process was changing pretty rapidly. At one point, composers would put pencil to paper and play the themes on piano for the director. Then we had ADATs and we had better tools for mocking up our sketches or our ideas. With that came new technical challenges. Just working with samplers, I remember having 2-bit sounds, and those were good sounds [laughs]. Now when you hear something like that, it’s either terrible or it’s totally kitschy and cool in a horrible way.

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