The bluesy psych-rock trio shows off its souped-up import axes, pricier amps, and carefully planned pedal playgrounds.
Hailing from the land of ice and snow, aka Rochester, New York, guitarist Sean McVay, bassist Dan Reynolds, and drummer Scott Donaldson dropped their mammoth-sounding debut, Orion, in 2016. The opening title track best exudes King Buffalo’s MO: darker Pink Floyd “Echoes” vibes with the eventual punishment of tectonic-shifting power of fellow power trio Sleep. KB may never go full doom, often subbing in hazier psychedelic strokes for monotonous monotone riffs, but they can still rumble with heaviest bands. “Goliath Pt. 1” and “Goliath Pt. 2” strongly showcase their Jekyll-and-Hyde stoner-rock tendencies that teeter between Floyd’s Live at Pompei and Black Sabbath’s Master of Reality.
With leftover Orion material, the band released an EP Repeater in early 2018. The 3-song collection would be a perfect soundtrack to a time-lapsed, mountain-climbing video. The expansive 13-minute opener starts calmly like any ascent, but as it continues, things begin to speed up, intensify, grow darker, before a crescendoing crash of celebration on the successful summit.
Later in 2018, the trio released their sophomore album, Longing to be the Mountain. The pace on LTBTM is much like the smooth cadence and perpetual hypnotic groove of hip-hop star NAS—it’s deliberate, powerful, and always bobbing forward. Space is much more prevalent than on Orion. Bookend bloomers “Morning Song” and “Eye of the Storm” exude the group’s blossoming confidence (and patience) providing air for suspense, tension, and timely, forceful apexes. With the added breathing room, the explosive parts build and powerfully bust through like a blues-tinged, psychedelic, kraut-rock-powered tsunami best felt in the doubled solos of “Quickening” and the thunder-cracking climax of the title track. (Full disclosure: I picked Longing to be the Mountain as one of my favorite albums of 2018. And time has only further solidified this vote.)
Before their headlining show at Nashville’s High Watt, guitarist/singer Sean McVay and his bass counterpart Dan Reynolds explain and demo how a couple of cheap, afterthought instruments paired with scaled-down boards create breakneck dynamics from Ms. Priss to monstrous.
D'Addario ProWinder:https://www.daddario.com/ProWinderRR
Strapped with a single guitar on this run, King Buffalo’s lone axeman Sean McVay hits the stage with this gold-sparkle Hagstrom D2F that’s been given a complete overhaul. It has new tuning machines, pots, knobs, and a set of Seymour Duncan SH-1 Vintage Blues 59 humbuckers. It gets strung up with a D’Addario NYXL Light Top/Heavy Bottom (.010–.052) set.
Sean McVay’s longtime partner in crime is this 1973 Fender Twin Reverb that required some TLC. For a wider-spectrum sound (plus the ability to mic two different speakers and have it panned hard left/right), he took out the stock 12" speakers and put in an Eminence Texas Heat and a Warehouse Guitar Speakers British Invasion ET65.
Admitting that on previous tours he had a pedal problem stretching over two boards, Sean McVay has downsized this manageable setup. He has a Vox V847 Wah, Moog EP-3 Expression Pedal, Build Your Own Clone E.S.V. Fuzz Silicon (BC109 chip transistors), Lightning Boy Audio Soul Drive, Analog Man Buffer, Whirlwind “Orange Box” Phaser, Strymon TimeLine, and TC Electronic Hall of Fame. A TC Electronic PolyTune keeps his Hagstrom in check.
Like his 6-string bandmate, bassist Dan Reynolds travels with one, budget-friendly instrument, but his is the way it left the factory. His lone road dog is a 2003 Sterling by Music Man StingRay Ray34. It gets DR Strings PB-45 Pure Blues .045–.105.
Originally an all-tube Ampeg dude, Dan Reynolds’ back enjoys the slight-but-mighty Bergantino Forté that shockingly puts out 800 watts.
Here is Dan Reynolds reduced pedal playground that only has the essentials, starting with the always-on Lightning Boy Audio NuVision that “makes up for the flat, digital-ness of the Forté.” The rest of his colors include Way Huge Electronics Green Rhino, smallsound/bigsound Team Awesome Fuzz Machine, TC Electronic Helix (unplugged), MXR Phase 90, and a Dunlop MC404 CAE Wah. A TC Electronic PolyTune 2 Mini keeps all four strings in the sweet spot.
Another day, another pedal! Enter Stompboxtober Day 7 for your chance to win today’s pedal from Effects Bakery!
Effects Bakery MECHA-PAN BAKERY Series MECHA-BAGEL OVERDRIVE
Konnichiwa, guitar lovers! 🎸✨
Are you ready to add some sweetness to your pedalboard? Let’s dive into the adorable world of the Effects Bakery Mecha-Pan Overdrive, part of the super kawaii Mecha-Pan Bakery Series!
🍩 Sweet Treats for Your Ears! 🍩
The Mecha-Pan Overdrive is like a delicious bagel for your guitar tone, but it’s been upgraded to a new level of cuteness and functionality!
Effects Bakery has taken their popular Bagel OverDrive and given it a magical makeover. Imagine your favorite overdrive sound but with more elegance and warmth – it’s like hugging a fluffy cat while playing your guitar!
The riffmeister details why he works best with musical partners and how that's been successful in both Alice in Chains and his solo career, including new album I Want Blood.
This passionate builder designed a custom Strat/Tele pair, both adorned with hand-painted replicas of The Starry Night.
Okay, I plead guilty to having owned over 150 electric guitars in the past 60 years. So, for kicks, with my experience by way of Fender, Gibson, Ricky, Gretsch, PRS, Guild, Teisco, and others, I decided to attempt to make my own axes from scratch. I found that this endeavor was synergistic—much like envisioning, composing, performing, and recording a song. With my long-time San Diego techie, Val Fabela, doing the assembly, I started carefully designing, engineering, and procuring all of the components.
Our winning guitar builder, Edward Sarkis Balian.
The Vincent van Gogh Stratocaster, aka “Vinnie,” was the initial project. Starting with a Canadian alder body, an artist in Italy (who wishes to remain anonymous) applied the Starry Night painting to the front, sides, and back. The heavily flamed, roasted maple neck has the typical 21 frets with a 25.5" scale, and sports yellow pearl-dot inlays. After careful consideration of my playing styles, I went with a configuration using Fender ’57/’62 Stratocaster pickups. I used an upgraded, noiseless, 5-position Switchcraft assembly for the switching circuit. Fender locking tuners, a custom-fitted bone nut, and a Kluson K2PTG 2-point whammy system and brass bridge complete the low-action setup. Overall gold hardware completes the look. Vinnie’s fighting weight is 7.1 pounds.
This is what stars look like from further in space, at least as far as this special build is concerned.
I was so happy with this Strat that I decided it needed a brother, so I started on a Tele. Logically, I named the Tele “Theo,” after Vincent van Gogh’s younger brother. Again, with a Starry Night body painted by the same artist, I coupled a Canadian alder body with a lightly roasted, flamed-maple Stratocaster neck. (Hey, if it was good enough for Jimi to experiment with a Strat neck on a Tele body, why not try it?) And, as expected, my techie Val did a brilliantjob of joining the neck to the body.
The Van Gogh Tele, aka “Theo,” built to similar specs as the Strat and also featuring a lightly roasted, flamed-maple Strat neck.
For pickups, I went with Fender’s vintage-correct ’64 Tele set. As for a harness, the super-quality Hoagland Custom 4-position switching is unique, in that it gives a 15 percent boost and a very killer tone in position 4! Fender locking tuners, a custom-cut bone nut, and a Gotoh GTC201 brass bridge completes its setup. Gold hardware complements the overall look. Strangely enough (or perhaps hereditary?), the Tele matches his Strat brother’s weight exactly, at 7.1 pounds.
It's not in a museum, the the Theo guitar is certainly a work of art.
But how do they sound? Magnificent!Throw in my trusty Keeley compressor, Fulltone OCD, and Fender or Mesa/Boogie tube amps, and the van Gogh boys both easily equal or surpass my White Penguin, White Falcon, PRS Custom 22, Lucille 345 stereo, 335, SG TV, Les Paul Standard, Esquire, or Joan Jett.
I’m hoping the real van Gogh brothers would have been proud of these two magical, musical namesakes.
Beauty and sweet sonority elevate a simple-to-use, streamlined acoustic and vocal amplifier.
An EQ curve that trades accuracy for warmth. Easy-to-learn, simple-to-use controls. It’s pretty!
Still exhibits some classic acoustic-amplification problems, like brash, unforgiving midrange if you’re not careful.
$1,199
Taylor Circa 74
taylorguitars.com
Save for a few notable (usually expensive) exceptions, acoustic amplifiers are rarely beautiful in a way that matches the intrinsic loveliness of an acoustic flattop. I’ve certainly seen companies try—usually by using brown-colored vinyl to convey … earthiness? Don’t get me wrong, a lot of these amps sound great and even look okay. But the bar for aesthetics, in my admittedly snotty opinion, remains rather low. So, my hat’s off to Taylor for clearing that bar so decisively and with such style. The Circa 74 is, indeed, a pretty piece of work that’s forgiving to work with, ease to use, streamlined, and sharp.
Boxing Beyond Utility
Any discussion of trees or wood with Bob Taylor is a gas, and highly instructive. He loves the stuff and has dabbled before in amplifier designs that made wood an integral feature, rather than just trim. But the Circa 74 is more than just an aesthetic exercise. Because the Taylor gang started to think in a relatively unorthodox way about acoustic sound amplification—eschewing the notion that flat frequency response is the only path to attractive acoustic tone.
I completely get this. I kind of hate flat-response speakers. I hate nice monitors. We used to have a joke at a studio I frequented about a pair of monitors that often made us feel angry and agitated. Except that they really did. Flat sound can be flat-out exhausting and lame. What brings me happiness is listening to Lee “Scratch” Perry—loud—on a lazy Sunday on my secondhand ’70s Klipsch speakers. One kind of listening is like staring at a sun-dappled summer garden gone to riot with flowers. The other sometimes feels like a stale cheese sandwich delivered by robot.
The idea that live acoustic music—and all its best, earthy nuances—can be successfully communicated via a system that imparts its own color is naturally at odds with acoustic culture’s ethos of organic-ness, authenticity, and directness. But where does purity end and begin in an amplified acoustic signal? An undersaddle pickup isn’t made of wood. A PA with flat-response speakers didn’t grow in a forest. So why not build an amp with color—the kind of color that makes listening to music a pleasure and not a chore?
To some extent, that question became the design brief that drove the evolution of the Circa 74. Not coincidentally, the Circa 74 feels as effortless to use as a familiar old hi-fi. It has none of the little buttons for phase correction that make me anxious every time I see one. There’s two channels: one with an XLR/1/4" combo input, which serves as the vocal channel if you are a singer; another with a 1/4" input for your instrument. Each channel consists of just five controls—level, bass, middle, and treble EQ, and a reverb. An 11th chickenhead knob just beneath the jewel lamp governs the master output. That’s it, if you don’t include the Bluetooth pairing button and 1/8" jacks for auxiliary sound sources and headphones. Power, by the way, is rated at 150 watts. That pours forth through a 10" speaker.Pretty in Practice
I don’t want to get carried away with the experiential and aesthetic aspects of the Circa 74. It’s an amplifier with a job to do, after all. But I had fun setting it up—finding a visually harmonious place among a few old black-panel Fender amps and tweed cabinets, where it looked very much at home, and in many respects equally timeless.
Plugging in a vocal mic and getting a balance with my guitar happened in what felt like 60 seconds. Better still, the sound that came from the Circa 74, including an exceedingly croaky, flu-addled human voice, sounded natural and un-abrasive. The Circa 74 isn’t beyond needing an assist. Getting the most accurate picture of a J-45 with a dual-source pickup meant using both the treble and midrange in the lower third of their range. Anything brighter sounded brash. A darker, all-mahogany 00, however, preferred a scooped EQ profile with the treble well into the middle of its range. You still have to do the work of overcoming classic amplification problems like extra-present high mids and boxiness. But the fixes come fast, easily, and intuitively. The sound may not suggest listening to an audiophile copy of Abbey Road, as some discussions of the amp would lead you to expect. But there is a cohesiveness, particularly in the low midrange, that does give it the feel of something mixed, even produced, but still quite organic.
The Verdict
Taylor got one thing right: The aesthetic appeal of the Circa 74 has a way of compelling you to play and sing. Well, actually, they got a bunch of things right. The EQ is responsive and makes it easy to achieve a warm representation of your acoustic, no matter what its tone signature. It’s also genuinely attractive. It’s not perfectly accurate. Instead, it’s rich in low-mid resonance and responsive to treble-frequency tweaks—lending a glow not a million miles away from a soothing home stereo. I think that approach to acoustic amplification is as valid as the quest for transparency. I’m excited to see how that thinking evolves, and how Taylor responds to their discoveries.