Stoner metal, desert rock, trippy psychedelia, and swampy blues swirl with just three guitars, a bastardized Rick, and custom-built, beastly stacks.
Expanding, evolving, exploring, and enchanting are all applicable when describing the orbit of All Them Witches. Since their 2016 Rig Rundown, the quartet have continued pursuing their sonic mission, unbound by anything but regeneration. Their never-ending musical mutation has yielded three more individualistic, intrepid releases since our last check-in.
Sleeping Through the War, in 2017, explored more purposeful, mystical songcraft cloaked in hypnotic, rambunctious rock. For 2018’s ATW, the band’s IV-like retreat (substitute Headley Grange for a Tennessee cabin) extracted a doomier, more chaotic side A equally matched by a side B that’s a psychedelic painkiller. And 2020’s Nothing as the Ideal shows the temporary power trio (drummer Robby Staebler completes the line-up) striking a levitating balance within a menacing, mortar of metal that binds and anchors their emotive, effervescent excursions. (Drop the needle on closer “Rats in Ruin” and let it wash over you.)
Just before their sold-out show at Nashville’s historic Ryman Auditorium (on Halloween, no less), Witches guitarist Ben McLeod and bassist/vocalist Charles Michael Parks Jr. welcomed PG’s Chris Kies onstage to re-chronicle their setups. The resulting conversation covers their modified war horses, deciphers their esoteric stacks, and reveals the secrets of the “doom broom.” Plus, we get hip to new builder Elad Shapiro of Dale Amps.
[Brought to you by D’Addario 360 Rechargeable Tuner: https://www.daddario.com/NexxusRR]
McLeod’s Monster
Starting off the Rundown, just like the 2016 episode, we have Ben’s beloved 2010 Gibson Les Paul Traditional. He’s done several mods to make this instrument a third appendage. McLeod had removed the stock speed knobs, opting for witch-hats (of course). However, he’s a big proponent of precise volume manipulation, so he put back the speed knobs for the two volume controls. He replaced the plastic nut with one made of bone. He says it not only helps with intonation but gives the guitar a silkier, smoother sound. The stock bridge Classic ’57 humbucker was swapped out for a DiMarzio Super Distortion. And, although it was mentioned last time, it’s worth noting that the pickguard was removed because McLeod is a big fan of Duane Allman and he didn’t feel like covering the full burst.
All the guitars take D'Addario NYXLs (.010–.046) and are typically tuned to D standard or drop C (C-G-C-F-A-D). And all his guitar maintenance is handled by Eastside Music Supply tech and PG contributor Derek Ness, who authored our 2019 edition of No-Brainer Mods.
Knaggs Nailed It
When a custom builder like Joe Knaggs comes calling as a fan, you answer. The Maryland-based luthier wanted to send McLeod a few guitars and the 6-stringing Witch said, “absolutely!” The SG-ish Honga is his favorite. “This guitar has an ungodly amount of midrange, and it is so awesome,” gushes McLeod. “It’s an amazingly, well-built guitar.” The set-neck, double-cutaway axe has a 24.75" scale length and came with Bare Knuckle Mules. The lone mod on this guitar (again done by Derek Ness) was swapping the pickup selector from below (near the control knobs) to up top, like Les Pauls.
Roy Marks the Spot
“I’m obsessed with Roy Buchanan,” admits McLeod. “So, I had to have a guitar that looked like his, with a butterscotch blonde finish and black pickguard.” This bombshell is a Fender American Vintage ’52 Telecaster. Ben reversed the control plate and put the volume knob ahead of the tone control, so he had easier access to the volume knob for county-ish, pedal-steel bends. He also dropped in a set of Fralin Blues Special Tele single-coils because he heard that his current favorite picker, Kenny Vaughan, loves them. For ATW, it’s primarily a safety net, but when he’s home he plays this T the most. (And for a taste of how it sounds, spin Ben’s surf-western side project El Castillo.)
Slippery Slides
For songs like “Rats in Ruin,” McLeod will grab a Dunlop Heavy Wall Large Glass Slide (213), and he attacks the strings with Dunlop Tortex .73 mm picks.
Fourth-Grade Fender
This is still the same Fender Twin Reverb reissue Ben was using in 2016, which he’s been blasting through since fourth grade, when he got it for Christmas. He’s had it outfitted with a master volume knob (far right control) so he can dial back its roar at home. (He leaves it wide open when onstage.) Another alteration was removing the pair of Jensens for a couple of alnico Warehouse Guitar Speakers 50W Blackhawks.
The Gain Monster
This mysterious box of rock is a very angry interpretation of a 50W JCM800. Built by Nashvillian Elad Shapiro (Dale Amps is the company), it features a Hiwatt output transformer and Mullard EL34s. A 2x12 open-back Dale cab is loaded with a set of Warehouse Guitar Speakers ET65s. In flight, he uses either the Twin Reverb (clean) or the Dale (heavy). (During the Rundown, Ben alludes to a forthcoming 100W version that will be used on their winter run and into 2022.)
For those who can’t read Hebrew, the controls are as follows: (top, from left) preamp gain, master volume, and presence, while below you have treble, mids, and bass.
Lucky for us, we had the amp builder himself on hand, and here’s what he said about his creation: “It’s a 4-stage, high-gain amplifier with three EL34s in the output, three 12AX7s in the preamp, and it has a Hiwatt Partridge output transformer. I like to use them because they’re very open and chime-y sounding. The biggest difference between this and a JCM800 is that it doesn’t have a cold-clipper stage—how the tube is biased causes it to do something unpleasing to my ear. And it cleans up real nice when you ease off the volume.”
6-pack and a Wah
As diverse as the band’s sound can be, Ben keeps his stomps relatively straightforward. His sweet baby Boss BD-2 Blues Driver still finds a home on his board. The rest of his colors come from fresh friends: a duo each of Electro-Harmonix (Holy Grail and Deluxe Memory Man 1100-TT) and MXR (Carbon Copy and Phaser 90) boxes, and a Stomp Under Foot La Scatola Nera. This pedal was a result of a request from Ben to SUF’s Matthew Pasquerella “to have a new and different fuzz from his Alabaster pedal, and add an octave.” Off to the right he has a Dunlop Cry Baby 95Q wah that replaced his Vox V847 Wah because he prefers its wide sweep and not having to engage the circuit, thanks to its auto-return switching. The Radial BigShot ABY True Bypass Switcher controls the amps, while the TC Electronic PolyTune 3 Mini keeps his guitars in check.
In our last Rundown, we picked our jaw off the floor and left scratching our head when first encountering bassist Charles Michael Parks, Jr. amputated 1972 Rickenbacker (left). At that time, he used the bewildering 4001 most of the night. The only sub happened when going for his 1966 Rickenbacker 450/12 for Dying Surfer Meets His Maker songs Call Me a Star” and “Talisman.” As the story went, the guy he bought it from was left-handed, and he chopped off the upper bout, slashed off some of the headstock, and flipped it around to play lefty. Parks got the bass super cheap, had set it up to play right-handed, reworked the electronics, shaved the bridge and moved it back, and then outfitted it for a proper stereo jack. It usually has D’Addario Half Round (.050–.105) strings. And, as Parks puts it, “it’s a battle axe. If being dragged behind a truck had a sound, it’d be this.”
Since then, he had budding luthier and tech whiz Derek Ness build him a more dependable, road-worthy replica of the oddball (right). Besides the original’s brighter toaster pickups and its frayed look, the biggest difference is that the Ness Custom model has a Hipshot BT3 Bass Xtender detuner.
Daddy Played Bass
This 1962 Fender P bass was bought by Parks’ father in 1965 and was recently gifted to him. His father’s friends were sound engineers and, like the P’s designer, didn’t play the instrument, but they heavily tinkered with its circuitry by putting in a Jazz bass pickup and additional switching. Shortly after purchasing the P, his father smashed the switches and gave it a bizarrely beautiful sound.
The Groove
From all the years of playing it, Parks’ father worked a serious thumbprint just above the J pickup.
SG Me to 69, Please
A week after Woodstock (possibly after seeing Carlos Santana rip on an SG Special), Parks’ father picked up this 1969 Gibson SG Custom (factory built with only two pickups and a Bigsby) at Hazen’s Music Store in Plattsburgh, New York. Again, being the generous father he is, he gifted it to his son.
Twin Towers
Parks’ trusts his tone to Dale, aka Elad, Shapiro, too. The clean amp (right) pumps out 120W and is loosely based on an Ampeg circuit, but uses six 6L6s (instead of KT88s) because Elad prefers “a rounder, thumpier, bluesier sound.” It has an additional midrange control and a robust transformer for a solid DI out (aiming for the Motown gold-standard tone). The left-side head is chasing the thunderous sound of a Sunn Model T. It has an added gain stage and a beefed-up power supply for more voltage, making it the ultimate companion to the doom broom. Both Dale cabinets have a single 15" speaker (below) and a pair of 12s (top). The 1980s Sovtek Mig 100H is just paperweight backup for now.
Parks' Pedal Playground
The lone survivor from our 2016 rundown is Parks’ Red Panda Raster, because of his love for its reverse-delay setting. New arrivals include a Boss DD-200 Digital Delay (used only on “Diamonds”), a Greer Little Samson, MXR FOD (hits the dirty amp), and a Boss RV-5 Digital Reverb. A Radial Twin City Active ABY Switcher controls the amps, a Radial Voco-Loco Effects Switcher colors his vocals, and a Sonic Research ST-300 Turbo Tuner keeps his instruments in line.
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Bruce Springsteen: the last man standing.
On Halloween, the pride of New Jersey rock ’n’ roll shook a Montreal arena with a show that lifted the veil between here and the everafter.
It might not seem like it, but Bruce Springsteen is going to die.
I know; it’s a weird thought. The guy is 75 years old, and still puts on three-hour-plus-long shows, without pauses or intermissions. His stamina and spirit put the millennial work-from-home class, whose backs hurt because we “slept weird” or “forgot to use our ergonomic keyboard,” to absolute shame. He leaps and bolts and howls and throws his Telecasters high in the air. No doubt it helps to have access to the best healthcare money can buy, but still, there’s no denying that he’s a specimen of human physical excellence. And yet, Bruce, like the rest of us, will pass from this plane.
Maybe these aren’t the first thoughts you’d expect to have after a rock ’n’ roll show, but rock ’n’ roll is getting old, and one of its most prolific stars has been telling us for the past few years that he’s getting his affairs in order. His current tour, which continues his 2023 world tour celebrated in the recent documentary Road Diary: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, follows his latest LP of original music, 2020’s Letter To You. That record was explicitly and thematically an exploration of the Boss’ mortality, and this year’s jubilant roadshow continues that chapter with shows across the U.S. and Canada.
“The older you get, the more you realize that, unless you’re über-wealthy, you probably have a lot in common with the characters in Springsteen songs.”
I was at the Montreal show on Halloween night, where Bruce, the E Street Band—Steven Van Zandt, Nils Lofgren, Garry Tallent, Max Weinberg, and Roy Bittan, along with Soozie Tyrell, Charles Giordano, and Jake Clemons—and a brilliant backing ensemble of singers and musicians performed for roughly three hours straight. The show rewired my brain. For days after, I was in a feverish state, hatching delusional schemes to get to his other Canadian shows, unconsciously singing the melody of “Dancing in the Dark” on a loop until my partner asked me to stop, listening to every Springsteen album front to back.
“The stakes implicit in most of these stories are that our time is always running out.”
Photo by Rob DeMartin
I had seen Bruce and the E Street Band in 2012, but something about this time was different, more urgent and powerful. Maybe it’s that the older you get, the more you realize that, unless you’re über-wealthy, you probably have a lot in common with the characters in Springsteen songs. When you’re young, they’re just great songs with abstract stories. Maybe some time around your late 20s, you realize that you aren’t one of the lucky ones anointed to escape the pressures of wage work and monthly rent, and suddenly the plight of the narrator of “Racing in the Street” isn’t so alien. The song’s wistful organ melody takes on a different weight, and the now-signature extended coda that the band played in Montreal, led by that organ, Bittan’s piano, and Weinberg’s tense snare rim snaps, washed across the arena over and again, like years slipping away.
The stakes implicit in most of these stories are that our time is always running out. The decades that we spend just keeping our heads above water foreclose a lot of possibility, the kind promised in the brash harmonica whine and piano strokes that open “Thunder Road” like an outstretched hand, or in the wild, determined sprint of “Born to Run.” If we could live forever, there’d be no urgency to our toils. But we don’t.
Springsteen has long has the ability to turn a sold-out arena into a space as intimate as a small rock club.
Photo by Rob DeMartin
Bruce has never shied away from these realities. Take “Atlantic City,” with its unambiguous chorus: “Everything dies, baby, that’s a fact.” (Then, of course, an inkling of hope: “Maybe everything that dies someday comes back.”) Springsteen used those phrases on Nebraska to tell the story of a working person twisted and cornered into despair and desperation, but on All Hallows Eve, as the band rocked through their electrified arrangement of the track, it was hard not to hear them outside of their context, too, as some of the plainest yet most potent words in rock ’n’ roll.
In Montreal, like on the rest of this tour, Bruce guided us through a lifecycle of music and emotion, framed around signposts that underlined our impermanence. In “Letter to You,” he gestured forcefully, his face tight and rippled with passion, an old man recapping the past 50 years of his creative life and his relationship to listeners in one song. “Nightshift,” the well-placed Commodores tune featured on his 2022 covers record, and “Last Man Standing,” were opportunities to mourn Clarence Clemons and Danny Federici, his E Street comrades who went before him, but also his bandmates in his first group, the Castiles. It all came to a head in the night’s elegiac closer, “I’ll See You in My Dreams,” performed solo by Bruce with his acoustic guitar: “Go, and I’ll see you in my dreams,” he calls
I’m still trying to put my finger on exactly why the show felt so important. I’ve circled around it here, but I’m sure I haven’t quite hit on the heart of the matter. Perhaps it’s that, as we’re battered by worsening crises and cornered by impossible costs of living, songs about people trying desperately to feel alive and get free sound especially loud and helpful. Or it could be that having one of our favorite artists acknowledge his mortality, and ours, is like having a weight lifted: Now that it’s out in the open, we can live properly and honestly.
None of us know for sure what’s up around the bend, just out of sight. It could be something amazing; it could be nothing at all. Whatever it is, we’re in it together, and we’ll all get there in our time. Until then, no matter how bad things get, we’ll always have rock ’n’ roll.
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Saxophonist Charlie “Bird” Parker’s challenging version of a 12-bar blues is one of his most enduring contributions. Learn how to navigate these tricky changes by combining bebop and blues.
Chops: Intermediate
Theory: Intermediate
Lesson Overview:
• Use IIm–V7 progressions to add interest to a blues progression.
• Combine the blues scale with Mixolydian and Dorian to create swinging phrases.
• Increase your rhythmic awareness by using triplets and syncopation.
Click here to download a printable PDF of this lesson's notation.
A big part of the bebop spirit was learning how to navigate through seemingly unrelated chords at speedy tempos. Saxophonist Charlie “Bird” Parker was a pioneer in the bebop movement and he combined his love of the burgeoning style with a deep appreciation for the blues. It’s easy to look at bebop in 2017 and think of it as a complicated and overly intellectual genre, but adding in a blues sensibility can make the changes a bit more approachable.
When looking at a traditional I–IV–V blues, there’s not all that much harmonic information to outline, so bop players like Parker would add chord substitutions. His composition “Blues for Alice” is an example of what’s become known as “Bird Blues.” The changes Parker used on this tune of become so accepted that other composers have written contrafacts—a different melody written on the same changes.
To fully digest these changes, it makes sense to examine the progression in small chunks and see how it relates to the traditional blues form. First, let’s look at the “Bird” changes below. (Remember, in jazz circles a triangle means a major 7 chord and a dash means minor 7 chord.)
When looking at a traditional 12-bar blues in F, the first four measures are usually an F7 (I) moving to a Bb7 (IV) in measure 5. In this version, Parker works backwards from the IV chord with a series of IIm-V7 moves that descend in whole-steps. Measures 4 and 3 are “major” IIm–V7s, but the second measure uses a “minor” version with a half-diminished chord for the IIm. Finally, Parker changed the chord in the first measure from a dominant 7 to a major 7 to place us squarely in the key of F. (It also helps with voice-leading across the first four measures.)
YouTube It
Saxophonist Charlie “Bird” Parker was the figurehead of the bebop era. Listen to his relaxed, swinging take on “Blues for Alice,” which is one of his most popular compositions.
Ex. 1 demonstrates one way to navigate the first four measures. Let’s break that down a bit. I stick entirely within the F major scale (F–G–A–Bb–C–D–E) for the first measure. Easy enough. In the second measure, for the sake of simplicity, I am just implying A7 through both chords. The first two beats outline A7 (A–C#–E–G) and the remaining notes are plucked from the A Super Locrian scale (A–Bb–C–Db–Eb–F–G).
Click here for Ex. 1
I’m using a similar concept in Ex. 2, working with the F major scale in the first measure and thinking A7 in the second. I’m using the D melodic minor scale (D–E–F–G–A–B–C#) over the third measure while targeting the 3 of Cm7 (Eb) on the downbeat of the fourth measure. To create an altered sound over the F7b9, I use a Gbdim7 arpeggio (Gb–A–C–Eb) to nail the b9 (Gb).
Click here for Ex. 2
This next example (Ex. 3) takes cues from great piano players so it requires some quick position shifting. The first shift happens in the first measure, where we move from 5th position up to 8th on the “and” of beat 2. In the second measure, we imply an A7b9 sound using a Bbdim7 (Bb–C–E–G) arpeggio that touches on the #9 (C) and b9 (Bb).
In the second and third measures of this example, we’re basically using the same concept. Because D Dorian (D–E–F–G–A–B–C) and G Mixolydian (G–A–B–C–D–E–F) contain the same notes, we’re simply adding some chromatic passing tones that help the chord tones line up on strong beats. Move the whole concept down a whole-step (to C Dorian/F Mixolydian) for the next measure.
Click here for Ex. 3
The next section of a blues in F might look something like: Bb7–Bb7–F7–F7. Or, if you think of a traditional jazz-blues progression, it might be Bb7–Bdim7–F7–D7. Looking ahead, Parker wanted to target the Gm7 in measure 9. What’s the best way to lead into that chord? Simply add a IIm–V before it. Parker used backcycling to create a series of descending IIm-V7 progressions that connect the Bb7 in measure 5 to the Gm7 in measure 9. Rather ingenious, huh?
While these chords are easy enough to play with basic chord forms, it’s much trickier to solo through them in an authentic way.
Ex. 4 uses the Bb Mixolydian scale (Bb–C–D–Eb–F–G–Ab) over the Bb7 before moving to Eb Mixolydian (Eb–F–G–Ab–Bb–C–Db) for Bm7–Eb7. In the third measure, we move to A minor pentatonic (A–C–D–E–G) before coasting through an Abm7 arpeggio (Ab–Cb–Eb–Gb) for the last measure.
Click here for Ex. 4
The next lick (Ex. 5) demonstrates how you can use simple melodies to navigate this chord progression. The first measure is a simple lick based on the Bb7 chord, then we create a melody just using the F major scale—it’s all about landing on the Gm7 chord at the right time.
Click here for Ex. 5
Our final example over this section (Ex. 6) is just as loose with the chords, but makes sure to hit them as they land. The first measure uses the Bb major pentatonic scale (Bb–C–D–F–G) before using some outside notes that resolve to the root of the Am7 chord. At this point you should be seeing that a big part of the bebop genre is based on rhythm. The mixture of triplets and heavy syncopation is an essential part of the sound.
Click here for Ex. 6
The final section of a blues in F usually goes: C7–Bb7–F7–C7, but that’s too basic for beboppers. In Bird blues, we use a two-measure IIm-V7 progression before increasing the harmonic rhythm with F7–D7–Gm7–C7. In Roman numerals, this translates to I7–VI7–IIm7–V7.
I find the best way to play over this section is to remember you’re playing a blues, so some blues scale ideas might not be a bad idea, as shown in Ex. 7. We’ve even included some slight bends!
Click here for Ex. 7
This final example (Ex. 8) feels like another melody rather than something clever. Remember, we’re playing music, and often the best music is the type that your audience can sing along to. So don’t be afraid to hold off and play something melodic.
Click here for Ex. 8
Lastly, here’s a short backing track to help you practice these ideas, and then come up with some of your own. Keep listening and copying and before long you’ll be soaring like Bird!
Less-corpulent, Big Muff-style tones that cut in many colors.
Unique, less-bossy take on the Big Muff sound that trades excess fat for articulation. Nice build at a nice price.
Some Big Muff heads may miss the bass and silky smooth edges.
$149
Evil Eye FX Warg
evileyefx.com
Membership in the Cult of Big Muff is an endless source of good times. Archaeologically minded circuit-tracers can explore many versions and mutations. Tone obsessives can argue the merits of fizzier or fatter tone signatures. The Ace Tone FM-3 is one of the less famous branches on the Big Muff evolutionary tree, but one that every true Big Muff devotee should know. It came out around 1971 and it was among the first in a line of often-imaginative Japanese takes on the circuit.
Evil Eye Warg Fuzz - MAIN by premierguitar
Listen to Evil Eye Warg Fuzz - MAIN by premierguitar #np on #SoundCloudEvil Eye’s Warg Fuzz marks another generation in this evolution. It uses the FM-3 as a design foundation and inspiration, and shares many of its tone characteristics. It’s most overtly a buzzier, less bass-hefty take on the V1 “Triangle” Big Muff, which serves as the FM-3 design’s launch pad. But the Warg also adds a midrange boost switch that makes the pedal better suited to mixes and environments where a little extra presence serves the musical setting.
Close Cousins
If you look at schematics for a V1 Big Muff and an Ace Tone FM-3 (minus its largely superfluous “boost” circuit) side by side, you’ll see a near-mirror image. But the small differences are significant. On the Ace Tone and Evil Eye Warg, the volume pot is positioned before the output gain stage rather than after, as it is on a Big Muff. A few filter and feedback capacitor values are smaller than those on the Big Muff, and there are a few extra resistors and an extra capacitor. Those changes aside, the two circuits would be hard to differentiate at a glance. But as we’ll hear, the audible differences are often profound.
Though Evil Eye was careful to replicate the Ace Tone circuit as closely as possible, the company added a second path for reshaping the output in the form of the “scooped and flat” toggle. Big Muffs are generally pretty scooped in the midrange, which is one of the breed’s distinguishing qualities, no matter the version. But that doesn’t keep newer manufacturers, like EarthQuaker and Stomp Under Foot, to name a few, from building Big Muff clones that add a midrange boost. Here, a variable boost knob is replaced by the flat-switch setting, which still offers ample tone reshaping utility.
“In a band mix, there’s more contrast with a burly bass.”
Build quality on the Philadelphia-made Warg is very nice. The circuit board is tidy, arranged along four rows of components that make the circuit relatively easy to trace. Input and output jacks as well as the footswitch are mounted to the chassis rather than the circuit board. The footswitch is a soft-relay unit. The pedal also looks bitchin’ (though the namesake wolf beast on the enclosure looks a little slender for a mythical, massive Warg). Given the careful, high-quality execution, the $149 street price is an especially good value.
Less Woof in This Wolf
Situating the Warg alongside any Big Muff makes the sonic family resemblance very clear. For comparison, I used a Sovtek Big Muff as well as really nice Ram’s Head and Triangle Big Muff clones. And while the Triangle is very clearly the closest cousin, in an audible sense, in the mid-scooped setting, the Warg shares a powerful, thick, high-gain profile and feel with all three Big Muff types. Where it’s most pronouncedly different is in its relatively light bottom end. For Big Muff hounds that savor the unique, bassy Big Muff ballast, the difference will probably sound pretty stark. But there’s lots of upside to the Warg’s less fat and sprawling profile. In a band mix, there’s more contrast with a burly bass. It will inhabit a much more individual space in a mix, too, which can open up mixing and arrangement options once you’ve laid down your tracks. And for this Big Muff fan, the less-bass-forward profile meant I could coax thick, grindy tones that were a touch more evocative of mid-to-late-’60s fuzz tonalities and felt less shackled to fat stoner-rock templates or late-Gilmour butter-sustain cliches without sacrificing a Big Muff’s sense of wide-spectrum chord aggression.
In the flat frequency mode, I found that the closest sonic likeness to the Warg was an EarthQuaker Hoof with an enhanced mids setting. The EQD probably offered more range on the traditional, bassy side of the Big Muff spectrum. But almost none of the pedals I tested against the Warg could match the Evil Eye’s high-mid clarity in chording situations and melodic leads.
The Verdict
Ascertaining how the very apparent, but sometimes subtle, differences between Big Muff types and the Evil Eye Warg fit your tone ideals and musical needs will probably take a shootout of your own. But if, like me, you’re a Big Muff user that sometimes wearies of that pedal’s smooth, fat, bluster, Evil Eye’s alternative is attractive and intriguing. It’s a great study in how different the basic Big Muff architecture can sound. And at just less than $150, you don’t have to feel too scared about taking a chance on this very interesting fuzz