Bludgeoning, beautiful, jarring, and serene are just a few of the cinematic moods conjured by this doomy, fuzz-loving husband-and-wife duo of Sarah and Mario Quintero.
When the Loch Ness Monster gets its summer blockbuster return, Spotlights should score that silver-screen comeback. Just like the mythical creature, the power trio summons up emotions that teeter from impending doom and chaotic destruction to a delicate beauty and alluring mysticism.
The band got its start just over five years ago via husband-and-wife duo Mario (guitars/synths/drums/vocals) and Sarah Quintero (bass/guitars/vocals). Often Sarah crushes like a mallet while Mario pierces like a katana—proving the couple that plays together, slays together.
Their earliest work features the pair handling all instrumentation. Mario previously was the drummer for Machines Learning, so they were able to assemble their self-released debut EP, 2014's Demonstration, then 2016's long-player Tidals, followed by 2017's Seismic (their first on Mike Patton's Ipecac Recordings). When it came time to hit the road, they would often tap drummer Josh Cooper until scheduling conflicts (in)conveniently intervened, putting Chris Enriquez on their radar. He filled in on a tour when Spotlights opened for If These Trees Could Talk and became a permanent member, lending his boom to both 2019's Love & Decay and 2020's EP We Are All Atomic. The fortified lineup have honed their punishing dynamics, making the pastoral more tranquil and the destructive more devastating.
While working on new material that will most certainly cast murky shadows and crescendo-ing crushers, Mario and Sarah virtually welcomed PG's Chris Kies into their Pittsburgh-based jam space. Inside this episode, we find out why they avoid cork-sniffing in favor of any gear that works. Mario showcases a digital-meets-analog setup that could power a SpaceX rocket, while Sarah describes and demos the elements for her bass thunderstorm. Plus, she divulges how gear swaps—especially pedals—not only keep the marriage fresh but continues enriching the band's blossoming sound.
[Brought to you by D'Addario Backline Gear Transport Pack: https://ddar.io/GigBackpack-RR]
Fender Player Stratocaster HSH
Over the last five years, Spotlights guitarist Mario Quintero has been in exploration mode. He's been testing out all sorts of gear without searching for any particular tone or goal in mind, to see what works and what doesn't. This Fender Player Stratocaster HSH has been part of that process. So far, he's enjoyed playing the Strat because of its comfortable neck and a shape that contours to his body.
The night before filming with PG, Quintero replaced the stock bridge 'bucker with a hotter Seymour Duncan SH-14 Custom 5. Quintero typically tunes to drop B and sometimes even drops the low-E string to F#. Currently, the Strat takes Ernie Ball Beefy Slinkys (.011 –.054).
Dunable Cyclops
"I'm an impulse buyer when it comes to gear," admits Mario. And one of the results of that urge was this Dunable Cyclops. It was a heavy hitter for 2019's Love and Decay.
PureSalem La Flaca
"I've never used a neck pickup on any guitar except this PureSalem La Flaca" explains Mario. "I think the way the neck pickup is slanted works well with my darker, mid-focused tone, instead of the more standard scooped-neck sound." Both the PureSalem and Dunable are laced up with D'Addario XL148 Nickel-Wound Drop C Strings (.012–.060).
1984 Marshall JCM800
Mario is pretty openminded and pragmatic in his tone quest, but this 1984 Marshall JCM800 might be his closest thing to a sacred cow. He plugs into the 50-watter's low input, cranks the pre-amp control, and barely pushes the master above one.
Marshall 1960A 4x12 Cabinet
The JCM800 hits this worn-and-torn Marshall 1960A 4x12 that's stocked with a quad of Celestion 75-watt G12T-75 speakers.
Orange Crush Pro 120
To double the dense destruction, Mario also roars through a solid-state Orange Crush Pro 120 that excels at being really loud and really clean.
Orange Crush Pro 240-watt 4x12
The Crush Pro 120 hits this trim Orange Crush Pro 240-watt 4x12 (closed back) that's packed with their proprietary Orange Voice of the World 12"s.
Mario Quintero's Pedalboard
Guitarists can be hesitant when a company rep promises simplification without sacrificing performance or tone. (Spoiler alert: We're a finnicky bunch.) But when Line 6's Eric Klein (the developer of the Helix) took in a Spotlights show and witnessed all Mario's tap dancing with MIDI triggers and laptop-queued pads and samples, he offered a streamlined, floor-based solution that could reduce Mario's multi-tasking.
So, now the brain of Mario's operation is a Line 6 Helix that not only smears his guitar with distortion, fuzz, modulation, and gobs of gain, but also interfaces with the laptop triggering pads and samples that route out to front of house. Mario's has three main objectives for his Eventide H9 (controlled by the Helix): a modulated slap delay, a huge stereo reverb, and a spooky, ring-mod 'verb. Auxiliary pedals that mind the gap are EarthQuaker Devices' Afterneath and Astral Destiny. The TC Electronic Ditto X2 handles live loops, while the Boss TU-2 Chromatic Tuner keeps his guitars in check. An Eventide PowerMax juices all his wares.
Squier Classic Vibe ’70s Precision Bass
Like Mario, Sarah has no shame in her rumble game and will use anything to rattle onlookers' fillings. During quarantine, her practical, get-the-job-done mentality eyed this Squier Classic Vibe '70s Precision Bass online. She ordered it and fell in love with the black beauty. The Squier is all stock aside from the leopard-print pickguard. Sarah goes with Ernie Ball Power Slinkys (.055 –.110). During the Rundown, she admits to hating the sound and feel of new strings, so she'll often go years without replacing them.
Orange O Bass
Her main ride for the previous four years was this Orange O Bass that has a tone that outshined the clunky, neck-diving ergonomics that would plunge the neck toward the floor when not being held up.
Because she loved its hefty, Herculean sound, Sarah taped weights on her O Bass' body to counterbalance its lopsided lean.
Orange OB1-500
Sarah used to prefer solid-state bass amps. Her longtime love was the Gallien-Krueger 400RB, but that all changed when her and Mario were opening for the Melvins. Each night they would join the sultans of sludge onstage for the closer, "Lysol." For the collective jam, Sarah plugged into Buzz's Orange OB1-500, and shortly after the tour concluded she ordered her own.
Orange OBC810 8x10
The OB1 runs into a fridge-sized Orange OBC810 8x10 that's equipped with Eminence Legend 32 speakers.
Sarah Quintero's Pedalboard
Sarah's stomp station is the main culprit for summoning Ole Nessie. She swims in the depths of distortion, fuzz, and stormy modulation. Sarah used to play with two amps (including the aforementioned 400RB), but now enlists the Line 6 HX Stomp (8x10 SV Beast setting) as her second boom box. The first pedal she ever bought is the Boss ODB-3 Bass Overdrive, and that gets used heavily in conjunction with the EarthQuaker Devices Westwood.
After checking Future of the Left, she had to approach bassist Andy "Falco" Falkous about his tone—and his secret sauce was the Way Huge Swollen Pickle. In the Rundown, Sarah mentions she changes this pedal's settings the most throughout a set, because the controls are so versatile and wide ranging.
Tbe EQD Monarch provides a darker, huskier sound than the Westwood. Next is the EQD Terminal, which provides "knotty and crunchy" sonics and shines on "Under the Earth." Then we have a pair of ZVEX fuzzes: the Woolly Mammoth and Fuzz Factory.
She likes to pair her EQD Bit Commander with the EQD Astral Destiny or H9 (reverb settings) to draw out and embellish its octave effect. Beyond that, the Astral Destiny provides atmospheric pads and the H9 unleashes drawn-out hall verbs, volume swells, envelope sweeps, and other moody tone morphings. Another modulation pedal is the EarthQuaker Aqueduct, which gets kicked on for subtle vibrato moments.
The last bit of her board provides some EQ tweaking, with the Darkglass Electronics Vintage Deluxe and EQD Tone Job. For her voice, she'll run a Boss VE-1 Vocal Echo—and a Boss TU-2 keeps all 4 strings in check. Like Mario, all her pedals come to life with the Eventide PowerMax.
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