Rhett and Zach go deep on what’s happening across the gear industry, looking at new releases, business trends, and how legacy brands are being reshaped.
This time on Dipped In Tone, Rhett and Zach are digging into today’s best nitty-gritty gear news. Tired of trawling Reddit and forums to figure out what’s going on? Tune in for some authoritative takes from your two favorite tone fiends.First up are the new Line 6 modeling offerings, including the compact, affordable stompbox that’s making waves across the industry. How does it compare to its big brother, the Helix? Is there any hope for a bean-shaped POD revival? Time will tell…
Our hosts touch on the craze around vintage PAF pickups (which was fetching $2500 for a pair), and compare the Gibson and Fender economy lines: Who makes the better entry-level instrument, and are the budget models starting to lap their more expensive counterparts?Later, the duo runs down the best-in-class Ed Sheeran signature looper before moving on to the landscape of legacy brands. Is Marshall still relevant outside of their barbershop-ready Bluetooth speakers? How is Hiwatt beating them in the race to digital? And what will happen to our favorite gear companies when they’re bought up by investment portfolios?
Stick around for all this and more, plus an update on Zach’s “Gotta Catch ’Em All” Tubescreamer hunt.
Oh no—it finally happened! Now the big question: How long before my verve for guitar recovers from Covid?
This past Sunday I awoke to a very un-Sunday sensation. Hovering on the edge of consciousness, as yet still incapable of contemplating what Sunday mornings are for (lounging in bed till coffee’s made and lunch plans are set, of course!), I was suddenly struck by a godawful stench. As one does, I wrinkled up my nose, lifted my head to look around in disgust, and took a couple more sniffs to see if … I don’t know—maybe I’d dreamt it? Or woke up incontinent? Then I tasted the putrescence. Then … nothing.
Fuuuuuuuck.
Given that my wife hadn’t mentioned the unspeakably rank odor, I concluded I’d woken in time to witness the neurological flashpoint at which my olfactory system officially snuffed it. See, it was day four of what had been, until then, a pretty tame Covid infection—my first and only to date, as far as I know (thank you, vax scientists!). I’d been feeling drained, achy all over, and had a slightly sore throat and ears. But until then I’d never experienced the strangeness of eating without tasting. Just to be sure, I scrambled for the nightstand, threw three mini Altoids in my mouth, and groaned. No minty sting. No tingle. Just three flavorless little chalk blocks floating around my infected maw.
Since then, I’ve been contemplating the futility of consumption. Coffee tastes like water tastes like whiskey. Minus the burn of alc-e-hol. (Not that one drinks these things for interchangeable reasons.) Putting food in my face has become about two things: staving off hunger pains and storing up enough nourishment to recover ASAP.
Sometimes when I pick up my guitar, I have the same feeling. This song is in a different key and a different tempo, with a different pickup selected and maybe a different stompbox combo. But no, it still sounds like boring ol’ me.
Then something miraculous happened: In the wee hours that night … or maybe the next, who can keep track? … I found my stomach wrenching for lack of grub and went down for a quick bowl of my favorite cereal—Raisin Nut Bran. As I chomped down on the first mouthful, I was elated to find I could taste again.
Only I couldn’t. My mouth felt the sloshing of refreshingly cold milk, the bran flakes’ crisp, rough texture, the chewiness of the yogurt-covered raisins, and for a split second my brain made the final leap. Of course the sweet, nutty taste was there too!
Alas, no. Out of sheer habit, my mind wantedto join in with flavor party favors. But the bowl’s contents could’ve tasted like sardines and rats for all my mouth truly knew.
Sometimes when I pick up my guitar, I have the same feeling. This song is in a different key and a different tempo, with a different pickup selected and maybe a different stompbox combo. But no, it still sounds like boring ol’ me. Maybe if I grab a different guitar and/or plug into a different amp. Nope, still me. How. Lame.
I’m certain I’m not the only one who feels this with regard to my playing. We all go through it. Covid or not, we just have to keep reminding ourselves that, for whatever reason, I might not be feeling it right now, but I do know how to make a good cup of coffee, I do know the difference between bilge and potable water, and I certainly know Skrewball is a delightfully tasty, if ridiculously sweet whiskey. Likewise, I do know some cool chords, and I do have a feel for rhythms and melodies that are kind of neat. My palate for them may be lacking at the moment, but it will return sooner or later. In the meantime, keep the nutrients coming and the guitars twanging.
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?