Premier Guitar

Andy Hicks’ path to becoming a guitar craftsman—from overachieving student to Fender Custom Shop Master Builder—can be traced back to age 11 or 12, when a friend introduced him to Nirvana’s In Utero. Hicks had grown up savoring his dad’s eclectic record collection—everything from the Beatles to jazz standards to Black Sabbath. But as he soaked in the noisy strains of songs like “Serve the Servants” and “Scentless Apprentice,” it felt like “something was unlocking” in his brain.

“It was a band my parents didn’t know about,” Hicks recalls. “It was this secret. It’s kind of edgy, so do I tell them about this?’ I remember being nervous: ‘The band is Nirvana, and here’s the album cover [which shows a transparent anatomical mannequin].’ My dad was like, ‘Let’s go buy every record of theirs.’ A couple weeks later, I’ve got the entire discography and t-shirts and everything. I was just so fascinated by Kurt Cobain as an artist, and I was the perfect age for that music to resonate with me.”

But this resonance went even deeper than most kids bewitched by the brooding “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video. In that clip, Hicks happened to notice Cobain was playing a Fender Mustang—not that he knew anything about his future employer as a pre-teen. “That video made me want to play guitar,” he says. “I was like, ‘That looks so cool.’ I knew he played a Fender, but I didn’t know any Fender models or anything. For my birthday, my parents took me to Guitar Center and I got my first: a made-in-Mexico three-tone sunburst Strat. I just fell in love with the guitar.”

In the decades since, Hicks—a former member of the doom-metal band Stygian Crown—has forgotten more about the instrument than most people ever learn. But in a way, his wealth of knowledge hasn’t really altered his perspective all that much, either as a builder or a musician: Instead of chasing trendy guitar gimmicks or seeking out some unattainably perfect tone, he’s just aiming for empowerment.

“My formative years were spent learning how to use my hands to make the sounds I wanted to make,” he says. “Years later, I look back at that as being such a blessing. As a builder, I’m not sucked into the misinformation pool about tone wood and all of these little minute changes to something that people think is gonna make this huge change in the instrument. It’s more, ‘Let me make the best-feeling instrument for you,’ because the tone is ultimately going to come from you. I can’t make you have the tone that you want. That’s freeing as a builder, and I think it’s freeing for the player, too.”

After getting his hands on that first Strat, he was obsessed. But not necessarily with gear. Back at home with his little 25-watt amp, he realized too late that he needed effects pedals to emulate his heroes: “I have this vision of going home and playing ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit,’” he says. “‘Why doesn’t my guitar sound like that guitar?’” But even after experimenting with “a million” options, he learned a crucial lesson: “After having a distortion pedal, it was like, ‘I still don’t sound like Black Sabbath.’” He eventually found his own path, falling in love with heavy metal and taking any chance he could to practice.

“I wanted the guitar to be as involved in my life as it could possibly be forever,” he says. “In high school, the only guitar class they taught was Introduction to Guitar. I was beyond ‘introduction,’ but I explained to the teacher: ‘I’m just looking for a place where I can come play. If I don’t learn anything new, I’m gonna teach myself stuff. Can I take this class?’ I took it for a semester. When it was over, I said, ‘Can I sign up again?’ He was like, ‘Uh, I guess.’ I took it for two straight years, for four semesters.” That same devotion followed him into college, where he played in bands but also envisioned a life as a teacher and water polo coach. The itch, it turns out, was too strong to not eventually scratch.

“The tone is ultimately going to come from you. I can’t make you have the tone that you want.”

“My roommates would always say, ‘Why aren’t you a music major?’” he recalls. “I knew some music majors, and it sometimes seemed too clinical, the way they would talk about music. I didn’t know if that part of the guitar would give me joy. For a long time, it was, ‘I’ll have some other career, and the guitar will always be there for me to come home and decompress with.’”

He got the push he needed from his future wife. “I came home from work,” he says, “and she told me, ‘I don’t think you love what you’re doing. I think you love guitar. There’s a school in Hollywood [called the Musicians Institute].’ At this point, I was tinkering with guitars all the time. I wanted to make my guitars feel better, and I didn’t have the money to have somebody constantly adjust these things for me, swapping out pickups or whatever. When we came home [from touring the school], I was like, ‘I have to do this.’ I signed up and started there the next semester [in 2009].”

He learned a lot in the Guitar Craft Academy program, focusing six months on the electric guitar and impressing one of the instructors, longtime Fender employee Dave Maddux. “He was the first person to say to me, ‘Judging by the builds you’ve done in school, I think you could make a good go at this,’” Hicks says. “He put me in contact with some people, and when I graduated, I had a job lined up at Jackson Custom Shop, where I shaped necks and did fretwork. That’s been a main focus my whole career: making the neck feel as good as possible.”

He bounced around a bit at Jackson, including a stint on the Fender production line. But these early days were anything but boring: He was only on the job for a few weeks, working on necks for the EVH Wolfgang, when he first met Eddie Van Halen, who was on site with master builders Chip Ellis (Fender) and Mike Shannon (Jackson).

“I wanted the guitar to be as involved in my life as it could possibly be forever.”

“It’s Fender—we have tours all the time,” Hicks says. “This guy comes over, leaning on me, and he looks like some dad wearing a baseball hat. Then I’m like, ‘Oh, Eddie Van Halen is just standing here watching us work.’ The guy I was working with was in the middle of complaining: ‘Man, these stainless steel frets. With just these Wolfgangs, we’ve gotta do 12 stainless steel necks today.’ Eddie [playfully] said something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry my guitar is such a pain in the butt.’ It was incredible.” (The story has a full-circle coda: Toward the end of Hicks’ run at Jackson, Van Halen held a friends-and-family show at the Forum, and the virtuoso gave +1s to everyone who worked on his guitars. “My dad was sitting next to Tom Morello, telling him that his son made Eddie Van Halen’s guitar,” he says with a laugh. “I had to say, ‘Dad, please stop talking to Tom Morello. And also, I didn’t make his guitar. Chip made his guitar. I make Wolfgang guitars.’ He was so excited to talk to somebody, and he just happened to be talking to Tom Morello.”)

After a couple years at Jackson, Hicks “got noticed a little bit” and made the jump over to the Gretsch Custom Shop, where he earned his stripes as a “guitar detective,” helping with a meticulous recreation of Malcolm Young’s “Salute” Jet. Gretsch initially thought they’d have access to the AC/DC icon’s original axe—but after both Young and his tech suffered health issues, they were left only with photos, dimensional specs, and a lot of question marks.

“There were a lot of things that had been done to it over the years,” Hicks recalls. “It had one pickup in it and three knobs. What do those do? No one could really tell us. During some of my digging, I contacted a guitar shop in Melbourne, Australia, that had it in there before a tour. They took photos of it just for fun, so they sent me a bunch of them. That’s how I learned about the weird tone caps that they had in it—they were like wah-pedal tone caps instead of normal tone caps. It was essentially two master volumes and a tone. That’s the fun stuff of doing an instrument like that.”

“I thought to myself, ‘I don’t know if I’m growing anymore.’ I didn’t like that feeling.”

Hicks grew super comfortable at Gretsch—almost too comfortable. “I thought to myself, ‘I don’t know if I’m growing anymore,’” he says. “I didn’t like that feeling. I didn’t want to wait around anymore to see if it’s going to be my turn.” When he got an offer to run production at the high-end manufacturer James Tyler Guitars, he leapt at the opportunity—finding a mentor in the titular builder, who “ran his shop like a pirate” and followed his gut above all else. “When everyone was doing the roasted necks, he was like, ‘I don’t really like how it sounds, so we’re not doing it,’” he says. “I remember some of his finance guys saying, ‘We can charge more.’ But he didn’t care.” After Tyler’s health took a turn, Hicks wound up running production and building simultaneously, often working two shifts a day to help steer the ship opposite general manager Rich Renken. This was another valuable learning moment, but he felt like there was unfinished business back at his old stomping grounds.

After a serendipitous phone call with Fender’s Ron Thorn, who told him a spot was opening up at the Custom Shop, that feeling only solidified. “As soon as Ron said this, it was like, ‘That’s the thing. I have to know if I can do it,’” Hicks recalls. “I think I left Tyler in good hands, so there were no bad feelings. It was an emotional day, coming in here, being welcomed back. It was an interesting first day, too, because you know everyone’s name. [laughs] It just felt right. It felt like coming home.”

He returned with a wealth of knowledge, but none of it prepared him for one particular build: making a new model for his favorite guitarist of all time, Iron Maiden’s Dave Murray. “It was completely insane,” he says. “They were about to start this multi-year tour and wanted another guitar. I was working really closely with his tech, fine-tuning his model a little bit.” He decked the bridge, adjusted the neck angle, oil-finished the neck—tailoring it as best he could to Murray’s preferences. Despite all that hard work, it was still tense waiting for feedback. “I shipped it off and got an email a couple days later from Dave,” he recalls. “It just said ‘Regarding the guitar’ [in the subject line], and it’s a Schrödinger’s cat situation: ‘I’m gonna open this email, and one of two things happens: He either likes the guitar, and that’s good, or he doesn’t like it, and now what do I do?’ He said how much he loved it. His guitar tech reached out and said it was going to be his number-one for the tour. And now we’ve announced that we’re launching the master-built version of that.”

Hicks once envisioned the guitar dominating his life—and between his day job and his own creative pursuits, that’s pretty much come true. “The bigger balancing act,” he says, “is learning how to turn the guitar off for a little bit when I’m at home with my kids,” he says. Those worlds are colliding even more than usual now, though, as his nine-year-old son is taking guitar lessons. (The kid has access to a pretty sweet setup, too, including Hicks’ Fender Tone Master Pro workstation and Tone Master FR-12 amp. Plus, he’s playing what Hicks calls “the nicest 3/4-scale Squier in the entire world,” after his hours of re-fretting and tweaking.)

Back home at Fender, Hicks is master-building the life he always wanted: “Man,” he says, “it’s been a dream come true.”

Most exciting new innovations in acoustic guitar have to do with the top, like new bracing systems, double tops, etc. This makes sense, because this is the main sound-producing component of the instrument. But a guitar is a whole system of parts that work together to produce sound, and the sides of the guitar play a significant role in this.

From an engineering perspective, there are two functions of guitar sides: first, to hold the structure of the guitar together and bear some of the tension of the strings; second, to transfer vibrations from the top to the back.

Traditional guitar sides are composed of a single layer of wood, which is bent into shape using heat. Then, kerfed liners are used to glue the sides to the top and back. This is the simplest way to construct sides, and it’s also the lightest method, since it involves the least wood. However, a single thin layer of wood is prone to cracking.

That’s not the only downside of traditional acoustic sides. They also absorb some of the energy of the vibrating top and back, which has a damping effect on the guitar, analogous to brake dampers in a car. Damping decreases the loudness and sustain of the guitar. To reduce the amount of damping, guitar sides should be as stiff as possible (without being too heavy) so that they transmit vibrations, rather than absorb them. This is the goal of structured sides.

A logical way to increase the rigidity of the sides is to extend the top and bottom liners, making one big liner that spans the whole depth of the sides. This means the whole area of the side is reinforced, which in effect makes structured sides a type of laminated construct, with two plies. One ply is the outer “show” wood, and the other is the kerf bent piece that lines the inside. In general, lamination increases the rigidity of wood and helps counteract any internal stresses that may be present in one of the plies.

Several builders have contributed to the development of structured sides. Based on my research, the two-ply version was invented by Sheldon Schwartz. Another luthier, Allan Beardsell, then brought the idea to the workshop of Sergei de Jonge. While working at de Jonge’s shop, two founders of the Mile End Guitar Coop (Michael Kennedy and Jeremy Clark) learned about the technique. When they went on to found the coop, they took this technique with them and continued to experiment.

The next evolution was to add a third layer to the sides, thus making them even more stiff. This method was developed by Kennedy and Clark at the coop, and it’s currently the method that most of us in the coop use—the name “structured sides” comes from someone here. There are three plies: the outer show wood, the inner kerf bent layer, and a final thin layer on the inside of the guitar. The outermost and innermost layers are thin, solid pieces of hardwood. The inner kerf component is made of a lighter softwood, like cedar.

The physics of our three-ply sides are comparable to an I-beam. The stiffness of an I-beam comes from the two outer flanges. The middle section doesn’t add much rigidity; it simply holds the two flanges at a distance apart. The greater this distance, the more rigid your sides. Similarly, the inner kerf layer functions as a spacer for the outermost and innermost layers. This makes the sides much stiffer than if the two solid layers were glued directly together, meaning that structured sides have a higher stiffness-to-weight ratio than simply laminated sides. This also means that structured sides make the guitar more efficient by reducing the damping effect of the sides!

As a bonus, structured sides increase durability, doing a better job of supporting the body against the forces of string tension, so the back of the guitar can bear less of this stress. They also protect against side cracks and other damage; it takes a pretty big bump to the side of the guitar to get through all three plies.

Although structured sides were intended for acoustic guitars, I’ve been using the technique to build laminated banjo rims. This makes the banjo significantly lighter than a traditional solid rim. Recently, I built a tackhead banjo that weighed just 3.2 pounds when fully strung up!

All this said, I think there’s still plenty more room to experiment with sides. Maybe another filler material like Nomex could be used instead of the kerf layer. Maybe other instruments, like mandolins or upright basses, could benefit from structured sides? I look forward to seeing what the future holds for this technique!

Q: How do you know when the record is finished?

A: When the budget runs out.

It’s an old studio joke, but it sticks around because it points at something deeper than money. Budgets don’t just limit time—they force commitment. And nowhere is that more obvious than during the recording process, when the record still feels malleable enough to become anything.

That sense of possibility is intoxicating. It’s also dangerous.

I’ve lived this from both sides of the glass—first as a signed artist, aware of how the clock quietly ate into my recording money, and later as a producer watching artists wrestle with the same invisible tension. At some point, the record has to stop being an idea and start being a document.

Early in a tracking session, performances tend to arrive with a kind of clarity that’s hard to manufacture later. Musicians are alert. Intentions are strong. The red light still carries weight. You hear phrasing that commits, dynamics that breathe, and little mistakes that feel wonderfully human. The song is being captured, not negotiated.

Then something subtle shifts. Takes get more refined—and usually safer. Players start listening backward instead of playing forward. Energy gives way to self-correction. Suddenly the band is performing for the playback instead of for the moment. Technically, things may improve, but past a certain point the music begins to suffer. This is the point where the studio can easily stop being a temple of documentation and become a laboratory of doubt.

Unlimited recording time accelerates this process exponentially—especially in home studios. Without constraints, every decision becomes provisional. Mic choices stay “temporary.” Arrangements remain “open.” Performances are endlessly replaced and playlisted rather than committed to. The record never quite becomes real because nothing is allowed to harden into fact.

Some of my favorite records came together quickly and felt almost divinely inevitable. Parts were chosen. Tones and effects were printed. Performances were treated as events, not auditions. Not because they were flawless, but because they told the truth of that moment. And that truth is fragile. Chase it too long and it disappears.

“Records are never finished. They’re just released. The art is knowing when to let them go.”

One of the most useful questions you can pivot to during recording isn’t, “Can we do better?” but rather, “Are we improving the song—or just exhausting it?” Knowing when to ask that question isn’t about a fixed number of takes. It’s a feel. And if the answer isn’t immediately obvious, you’re probably already past the peak.

This is where experience earns its keep—not in knowing how to fix things later, but in knowing when not to defer decisions. Every time you avoid committing during tracking, you push weight downstream. You don’t eliminate risk; you relocate it. And by the time you reach mixing, the cost of that indecision gets paid with interest.

This is why mixing so often becomes the next battlefield. When performances, arrangements, and tones remain unresolved, the mix is forced to carry emotional weight it was never meant to bear. Engineers start chasing balance problems that are really performance problems, and tonal issues that should have been settled at the microphone. Endless tweaks follow—not because the mix is unfinished, but because the record never fully decided what it wanted to be.

Budgets—financial, temporal, or self-imposed—are what can help prevent that drift. They create gravity. They force choices out of the abstract and into the real world. They turn possibility into artifact.

Records aren’t finished when every option has been explored. They’re finished when enough of the right decisions have been made that they far outweigh the remaining ones.

Records are never finished. They’re just released. The art is knowing when to let them go. Until next time, namaste

.

Hello, and welcome back to Mod Garage. Last month, we started to talk about the new bridge and saddles for our guitar, so let’s continue where we left off. In general, the two contact points where the strings meet the guitar are crucial and very important regarding playability, comfort, and tone. It’s always worth taking special care of the bridge and the nut on any electric guitar, and this month, we’re focusing on the bridge. Let’s break down the details of our replacement bridge and what we can expect from it.

The new bridge is much lighter than the stock model, which is great for getting a lighter-weight guitar. The overall weight of a guitar is a major factor for comfortability—a heavy guitar will add nothing to your life besides shoulder and back pain. Contrary to what you might read on the internet, science tells us it won’t increase sustain, nor add any “heavy” tone attributes to the amplified signal.

The thinner metal walls of the new bridge aren’t closed—a great attribute for reducing weight—and the double-cut “tapered walls” are a practical update, though some will disagree and prefer a bridge with vintage-style closed walls. There are countless bridge options for Telecasters, so find the best fit for your playing style. The edges of the short walls on my new bridge felt a little sharp, so I used some fine metal files and sanding paper to smooth them out. Your hand is resting on this surface, so you don’t want any jagged edges.

In addition to the classic string-through-body method, the new bridge also offers the late-’50s top-loading option, which means the strings are not running through the body but rather directly through the back of the bridge plate, giving you a gentler break angle. I recommend a bridge that provides you with both options. Top-loading your strings can give a feeling that some describe as “loose” and “rubbery,” but this route has its devotees, like the great Jim Campilongo, and it can make string bends a bit easier. Experiment to see if you like it or not. On my new bridge, all the holes for guiding the strings felt a bit gritty, so I spent some time taking care of any burrs.

The new bridge has two additional screw holes at the front, which is a very clever upgrade—two extra screws there will help join the front part of the bridge to the wood of the body. Speaking of screws, the stock bridge was attached with tiny, soft screws, which I replaced with standard-sized stainless-steel ones.

So why are these two additional screws a boon for our guitar? One of the most common culprits behind unwanted Telecaster feedback is the typical bridge plate itself. The Telecaster bridge system was designed in the 1940s by Leo Fender, and it was a crude design at best. Its function was to position the strings and offer a rough and easy adjustment of intonation and string height. Today, they don’t make them like they used to—the current-production Fender vintage bridge plates, as well as most budget aftermarket versions, are made from thin, hot-rolled steel in a deep-drawn process. This process produces parts very quickly and cheaply, but at a severe cost in quality. The steel used must be soft and thin to allow it to fold and bend in the corners, but sadly, this process creates internal stress in the material, which can bow the plate so that it can’t sit flat on the body. This often creates unwanted feedback on Telecasters.

The early bridge plates Fender made used a cold-rolled steel procedure to avoid this problem. Using two additional screws at the front of the bridge plate to firmly attach it to the body can minimize this issue. Our new bridge is straight as an arrow anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to secure it extra tight. To test your own bridge plate for any bowing, simply place it on a flat surface and check for wobbles. To level things out even more, I sanded the backside of the bridge, starting with 150-grit sandpaper and working my way up to 1,000.

Now, let’s have a look at the saddles. The classic T-style bridge sports three barrel saddles for intonation and height adjustment. As I said before: Crude at its best! Since this vintage bridge has two strings on each saddle, you’ll always be compromising on intonation. If you’re looking for perfect intonation, you should go with a new bridge with six individual saddles, like on a Stratocaster.

My new bridge came with three compensated saddles made from brass, which is the material used in the very early Fender days. These saddles are available in a large selection of materials, including steel, stainless steel, aluminium, diecast, and titanium, and also in compensated, uncompensated, smooth, threaded, and other configurations. (Differences between saddle materials are often audible when playing the guitar unamplified, but nearly none of these subtleties will present in the amplified tone.) For example, if you’re looking to shave off even more weight, I’d go with aluminum, but the brass saddles with my bridge are great quality, so I decided to keep them.

Our brass saddles are compensated for intonation in the most pragmatic way possible: slanted drill holes for the intonation screws. This not only looks quite vintage—it’s effective, too. The stock bridge uses a different compensation technique, which I described in my previous column. It works, too, but the look irritates me, and usually comes with some sharp edges. No matter what system you choose, take care to put the saddles in the right spot on the bridge plate. Typically, you can find an imprint on the underside of the saddles to indicate their position.

Our barrel saddles have a flat underside rather than being completely round, which makes it easier to do a low setup and—you guessed it— saves some precious weight! To make the surface of the saddles as glossy as possible, I polished them in several steps: first with a Dremel tool, before breaking the shine again with some super-fine Micro-Mesh to get to a used look without losing our smooth surface.

Finally, let’s talk about the height adjustment set screws, which are key for comfortability and tone. Depending on your preferred string action and the length of the set screws, chances are good that they’ll stick out a little bit from the top of the saddles. I find this super uncomfortable; bloody palms are not unusual with this quirk! Luckily, this problem is easy to solve.

These set screws are available in different lengths, and since they can make life so much easier for just a few cents, I recommend that you start building a solid collection of short and long versions. Rather than trying to level off the top of the set screws sticking out of the saddles, simply swap in a shorter screw and you’re done.

Take special care of the underside of the set screws, where they make contact with the bridge plate. It’s important to have the flattest, smoothest possible surface here—this is a spot where you can absolutely influence the amplified tone of your guitar. To hold these tiny set screws in place while filing and polishing their ends, I screw them into an old Telecaster saddle so they stick out, and lock the saddle in a vice afterwards. This way, you can work on the underside of the screws with files, sandpaper, or a Dremel. This takes some time, but is very important: I spent roughly 30 minutes with my six set screws, but I’m very happy with the result!

Next month, we’ll continue with our guitar’s pickup, electronics, and wiring. Our $259 budget for future investments remains untouched this month, but not for long! Stay tuned.

Until then ... keep on modding!

I don’t usually give advice because, as a friend of mine pointed out a long time ago, “Giving someone advice makes you an accomplice.”

And yet, here I am being someone’s accomplice, because I’m about to give you some knowledge, straight from the chef: If you want to get a guitar collector to pay attention, mention these four little words, “Uncirculated sunburst Les Paul.” If their hearing is in order, you will have their complete and undivided attention.

Carter Vintage recently picked up this gorgeous early-1960 Gibson Les Paul Standard from its second owner. He was quite discerning with his collecting choices. This 1960 ’burst is one of two sunbursts we brought back from his place on the East Coast, and there wasn’t a bad guitar in the whole bunch. In my conversation with him, the owner of the guitar told me he bought it in the early ’70s from the original owner. I asked him if he ever played the guitar professionally, or used it in a band—he hadn’t. He never played out with any guitar in his collection; he simply bought them because he thought they were cool, and guitars are a passion of his. He’d had the instrument for over half a century, and now it was time to pass it along to its next caretaker.

“This guitar has totally ruined other Les Pauls for me.”

Whenever I open a brown 5-latch Gibson case with a late-’50s Les Paul Standard in it, the first place my eyes go is the top. This guitar definitely pushed all my “personal fave” buttons: Gorgeous figured maple, “action” (how the figuring on the top moves and lights up as you angle the guitar in the light), and the color all hit the spot for me. The top on this guitar is one of my favorite ’burst tops ever. It’s not an overly flashy, wildly flamed guitar like the Stanley ’burst, or Nikki, but at the same time it’s not subtle, or understated, like a plaintop would be. If I had my pick of tops for a ’burst, this guitar would win, and out of around 15 sunbursts we’ve had in the store over the past year, this one takes the cake.

The next thing you notice on this ’burst is the color, and it’s crazy good. No iced-tea ’burst, lemon-drop top, or anything like that here. The red in the sunburst has been preserved incredibly well, and it fades perfectly into the amber and gold of the body’s center. These guitars are now in their late sixties, and to find one that’s not severely faded out is a rare occurrence.

Now for the fun part—playing it! I picked the guitar up and was initially greeted by the slim neck. I don’t know about you but I really love, to the point of adoration, the slim necks on 1960-through-mid-’62 Gibsons. The old-school players called them “speed necks,” and that’s an excellent description. Once you learn how to relax while playing these things, you can really get around so effortlessly. I think this neck was actually taken down a bit slimmer than the way it came from the factory, because it’s in the “Jimmy Page Number 1” ballpark. Way back in the ’70s, I remember reading an interview in Guitar Player with Joe Walsh, and he said the thin-neck ’60s Les Pauls were his favorite for their sonics and feel. Joe knows guitars. That Page guy isn’t so bad either.

On to the sound. I was just talking with a big-time pro guitarist who plays for an even bigger-time country-music icon and, before plugging in the guitar, he posed a question that I hear quite often: “Sunburst Les Pauls, don’t they all sound great?” In a word, no. They definitely don’t all sound great. Some of them are about as forgettable as can be. My old friend Tom Murphy says that with the advent of the Murphy Lab finishing process at Gibson, they’ve caught up with the old guitars in how they sound and feel. As usual, Tom’s not wrong. I’ve heard some Murphy Lab guitars that can absolutely hang with their vintage counterparts. In some cases, they can lap the old guitar sonically. Not all the old ones sound great.

Back to our subject, this killer ’60 sunburst. Some rare vintage guitars sound and feel so good that nothing else even comes close. This 1960 ’burst is one of them. Bridge pickup, neck pickup, middle position, roll the tone off, roll it back up, turn the volume down, turn the volume up: There isn’t a switch position or control setting that isn’t absolutely stunning with this guitar. I’m more than a little bummed about the way this guitar sounds, the truth be told. My good friend Dave Cobb told me years ago that you have to be careful about what sonics you allow into your ears: “You can’t un-hear stuff, man. It’ll ruin you if you hear the wrong thing.”

This guitar has totally ruined other Les Pauls for me. Yes, it’s that good. For the life of me, I can’t quit hearing it in my head. But being ruined never felt so good. I love my job!

In the world of rock guitar, Glenn Tilbrook may be the ultimate IYKYK (“if you know, you know,” for us old-schoolers). Because anyone familiar with Squeeze, the band he co-founded in the 1970s, is aware that hiding in plain sight alongside his songwriting and lead vocals are some masterful guitar hooks, solos, and arrangements. In a Tilbrook appreciation titled “Humble Guitar God,” CultureSonar editor Al Cattabiani declared, “Simply put, he’s a quiet monster.”

Squeeze has been termed new wave, pub rock, power pop, post-punk, and more—always a sign that a good rock ’n’ roll band has multiple tools in its shed. In its 50-plus years, surviving breakups, hiatuses, and wholesale personnel changes, Tilbrook and Chris Difford have been its only constants. “Chris and I were writers, first and foremost, and we were an exciting rock band,” Tilbrook reflects. “We were probably better than most of our contemporaries, I would say. We were more rock ’n’ roll, and we could deliver as a band onstage.”

They still do. Though they had more success in the U.K. than in the States, folks everywhere seem able to hum “Tempted.” They were making videos as far back as their 1978 single, “Take Me I’m Yours,” three years before MTV came along, and were on American Bandstand in ’82. Top 10 hits in England like “Cool for Cats” and “Up the Junction” didn’t dent American charts, but crowds large and small sing along to them—as well as “Hourglass,” “Annie Get Your Gun,” “Black Coffee in Bed,” “Is That Love,” and “Pulling Mussels (from the Shell).”

In 1973, 18-year-old Chris Difford put a wanted ad in the window of a sweetshop in Blackheath, Southeast London. It sought a guitarist with influences like the Kinks, Lou Reed, and Glenn Miller. Tilbrook, three years younger, was the only person who responded.

​Glenn Tilbrook’s Gear

Guitars and Basses

• 1954 Fender Telecaster
• 1966 Fender Telecaster (black) with Gene Parsons StringBender (added in ’75)
• 1954 Fender Stratocaster
• 1966 Gibson ES-345
• 1930s Gibson parlor acoustic
• Gibson Firebird
• Gibson ES-125
• Gibson ES-335
• Gretsch Chet Atkins Country Gentleman
• Jerry Jones Master Electric Sitar
• Taylor 665 12-string
• Avalon L10C
• Danny Ferrington custom f-hole guitar
• Martin nylon-string
• Hofner Violin Bass
• Fender 5-string bass

Amps

• Fender Blues Junior IV
• Fender Twin

Effects

• Dunlop Cry Baby
• Strymon Deco
• Strymon Flint
• Strymon Riverside
• Strymon El Capistan

They determined that Glenn was better equipped to put music to Chris’s lyrics. They were called “the new Lennon and McCartney,” an appellation nobody cares to be saddled with. In terms of a working model, they more closely resemble Bernie Taupin and Elton John. “Yes, exactly like that, in that order,” Tilbrook says. “Each one handwritten on the page, and I go off and do my thing, write the chord changes.”

Difford rarely offers any direction, leaving Tilbrook to his own devices. Glenn recounts, “When I was growing up, there were songbooks that just had the lyrics of the hit songs of the day, and that was a lot of how I learned. I could figure out how they went. If I didn’t know the song, I’d make up my own tune. I’ve written some stuff, but my lyrics aren’t very good. Chris was more developed as a songwriter.”

A window into the early stages of that partnership is the new Trixies. “It’s a set of songs that we demo-ed in 1974,” Tilbrook details, “obviously when we were hoping to get signed, but that didn’t happen. I’m honestly amazed at what we did at that point. It was more sophisticated than stuff we did quite a few years after that. Our manager said, ‘You have to simplify; otherwise, people won’t know who you are.’ We were all over the place, but the band couldn’t play it then. Now we can play it, so it’s really gratifying to see the path and development.”

Re-recorded with the current lineup, the new release is a concept album about a nightclub named Trixies. “‘Good Riddance,’ I actually did eight solos, and then I stitched it together,” Tilbrook says. “It reminded me of listening to shortwave radio as a kid, with stations drifting in and out. It’s my Gibson ES-125. I write 80 percent on keyboard—a lot of this on an RMI.”

“Chris [Difford] and I were writers, first and foremost, and we were an exciting rock band.”

A child's first album and concert may not be pivotal, but they’re often revealing. “Last Train to Clarksville,” with the layered guitars of Louie Shelton, Gerry McGee, and Wayne Irwin, prompted Tilbrook to fork over six shillings and eight pence for the single. “What a great record,” he exclaims 60 years later. Despite the controversial revelation that the Monkees didn’t play on their records, he declares, “They were a massive thing for me. To me, it absolutely was real. I think they made great pop records. The first concert I went to was at a folk club when I was 13, to see an Irish duo, Tír na nÓg. I was absolutely enchanted by them. Sort of whimsical folk music. Then the first bigger concert I saw was T. Rex. ‘Bang a Gong’ had just come out, and Electric Warrior, and that just blew my mind. Marc Bolan was such a weird songwriter and player. He wasn’t very good, but he was great at the same time. And the effect he had on the audience was also part of the experience and atmosphere. It was electrifying. I was literally buzzing.”

Bolan’s influence can be heard on “It’s Over” from Trixies. “The house band, the Jaguars, are through the prism of T. Rex, which was quite English. Bolan’s solos are really odd. I don’t know how he gets to the places he does and gets away with it. But he does.”

Sometimes as important as a first guitar is a tape recorder. “I started playing when I was six or seven, and I put a lot of time into it,” Tilbrook says. “I was fascinated, and there was music in the house, like Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, George Shearing. My nylon-string guitar didn’t have a make. I very much regretted painting it with wall paint when I was 11 or 12. It was still playable, but something changed about the sound, regrettably.”

He continues, “Recently I’ve gone back to playing a nylon-string. It has such a lovely, emotive sound. I can remember the exact date that my dad bought me a cassette recorder—December 19, 1967. It was everything I wanted. The fact that I could record myself was pure pleasure. I loved learning, and by the time I was 12, I could play pretty well. I’ve had a studio since ’93, and the first things I could afford to work with were ADATs. They were absolutely brilliant and very game-changing for me.”

Squeeze’s 1977 EP, Packet of Three, and self-titled debut album the following year were produced by Velvet Underground alumnus John Cale. “Our manager got him to produce us,” Glenn explains. “Chris was into Velvet Underground before I was, but I really liked them, too. John didn’t like the pop side of us, and he didn’t much like our songs, and threw them out. But when he was engaged and onto something, he was one of the most inspirational people I ever worked with.”

Two subsequent albums were produced by John Wood, while Elvis Costello and Roger Bechirian took over for 1981’s East Side Story. “Elvis got us all working together, getting good takes,” Tilbrook offers. One of those takes was Costello’s decision to have keyboardist Paul Carrack, who’d replaced Jools Holland, take over lead vocals on “Tempted.” The song reflects Tilbrook’s affinity for the ’60s soul of Stax and Motown. “All that is in there,” he says. “Obviously, ’60s music is the bedrock of what I learned growing up. I don’t want to stay there as a writer, but it’s part of my DNA.”

“In the ’80s, guitar was such an uncool instrument in the U.K. But I had moments.”

Calling Tilbrook underrated as a guitarist barely covers it—as evidenced by everything from the muscular solo in “Pulling Mussels” to the restraint of “Black Coffee,” the staccato double-stops of “Is That Love,” and the say-it-all-in-13-seconds brilliance of “In Quintessence.” “I’ve not pushed myself forward as a guitar player,” he admits. “I think I do that more now. I wasn’t embarrassed, but in the ’80s, guitar was such an uncool instrument in the U.K. But I had moments.”

Some guitar influences he cites are surprising, and not the typical Clapton, Beck, Page. “I liked Kelly Joe Phelps a lot,” Tilbrook says. “Hendrix is my first big love, and my parents loved Wes Montgomery; I do too. Amos Garrett is another, and I’m a big Willie Nelson fan as a guitarist. In 1981, I went to see him with Elvis, and it was one of those defining moments for me. His voice, his songwriting, his artistry. I understood, with the help of Elvis, that all those barriers—‘We do that, we don’t do that’—are all nonsense. It’s delivering from the heart, and anyone can do that if you’re receptive to it.”

Tilbrook’s solos are smart without being pretentious, clever without being cute. And like his role in the band, they’re composed. Worked-out solos often get a bad rap, as if one must jump off a high dive and improvise or it’s cheating. But countless composed solos (Harrison, Fogerty, even Page) rank among rock’s most iconic. Tilbrook points out, “From Cool for Cats [1979] onward, I started working on constructing solos. I was influenced by Tony Peluso, who played the great solo on the Carpenters’ ‘Goodbye to Love.’ I love the melodic element of it. I began really working on a solo and then cutting it together. And then I’d learn it. That would be the solo—not improvised.”

For “Another Nail in My Heart,” he continues, “it’s such an unusual place for a solo, coming after the first verse and chorus. After I got the first bit right, I’d figure out where it’s going to go. That was an afternoon’s work to get it down. But it sounded interesting, and it sounded like it was part of the song then. It occupied another part of musical narrative. That really nailed the benefit of doing that.”

Although he doesn’t consider himself a gearhead, Tilbrook has an impressive collection of guitars. “I’ve never gotten rid of anything unless it’s been stolen. My first Strat, a ’58, which is still the best Strat I ever had, I bought from a guy in Steeleye Span. I used it on the early Squeeze albums, and then it got stolen in Liverpool. It still upsets me.”

Tilbrook continues, “When I tour, and almost always in the studio, I mostly use my black ’66 Tele. I use the B-bender sparingly, but it’s an integrated part of my playing now. The first record I used it on properly was ‘Hourglass.’ I used to use Strats, but since I went to the Tele, it really defines my sound. My ’54 Telecaster is the one that Elvis gave me in 1981 or ’82. Extremely generous of him. It’s a beautiful guitar. I’ve also got a lovely ’66 ES-345. It has such an amazing tone. I started using it in the studio, and it sends my playing to a different place, which I love.”

“Sixties music is the bedrock of what I learned growing up. I don’t want to stay there as a writer, but it’s part of my DNA.”

Tilbrook grew up playing nylon-string but switched to steel-string early on. “Now I have a Martin gut-string that I’ve absolutely fallen in love with,” he says. “And I’ve got one of those Jerry Jones electric sitar guitars. I used it on ‘Nirvana,’ from [2015’s] Cradle to the Grave. You can’t use those too often, though. I have a 12-string Taylor that says ‘Red Thunder’ on the neck. It was made for Robby Romero, front man of the band Red Thunder, but he didn’t want it.”

Apart from Squeeze’s ups and downs, including a 1984 splinter group and album, Difford & Tilbrook, Glenn has released a dozen solo records, including a series of demos, the side hustle Glenn Tilbrook & the Fluffers, and a collaboration with blues/pub-rockers Nine Below Zero. His most recent offering was 2014’s Happy Ending. “I wrote most of it, but there were a few I did with Chris Braide,” he says. “I wanted to do an album without drums, and it’s sort of referencing some of the early Tyrannosaurus Rex things, like Moroccan hand drums.”

When touring as a solo artist, Glenn manages to represent familiar Squeeze numbers with just one guitar—acoustic or electric. In November 2001, he set out on an American tour behind the wheel of a Cruise Master RV motor home, a route he still employs. Thankfully, his first excursion was filmed for the delightful documentary Glenn Tilbrook: One for the Road, released in 2004. “The thing about touring and seeing this country and being there was a great influence on me—as opposed to being in whatever tour bus, which is sort of isolating,” he says.

Another benefit? “Seeing what kind of musician people thought I was from Squeeze,” he continues. “First of all, to experience that decline in your career. We were never a massive band here, but we sold tickets. And then not, really. And back to playing clubs. I always knew that I loved it, but it was then that I knew I really loved it. Like, I’m good with that. I didn’t feel bitter about it. I’m very lucky to play music.”

Trixies brings the band back full circle. “When we split up last time,” Tilbrook says, “seeing Brian Wilson’s Pet Sounds tour and the amazing work that his band did, I thought, ‘If ever Squeeze get back together again, we should be like that.’” For the new tour, he continues, “We’ve been rehearsing the songs in the order they are on the record. It’s the first record where we thought, ‘You know what? We might just do all of it.’”

The guitarist for the classic rock revivalists proves old amps, paired with even older guitars, is still a recipe for tonal success.

Tyler Armstrong, lead guitarist for St. Louis, Missouri, rockers the Band Feel, recently invited PG’s John Bohlinger out to Smoakstack Studios in Berry Hill, just south of Nashville, for this Rundown of the axes, amps, and effects he’s using to conjure the classic rock ’n’ roll sounds of the ’70s. Aside from his pedals, Armstrong sticks to the tried-and-true recipe: American guitars through British amps. Scroll for some highlights of the Rundown, and watch the video to get the nose-to-tail treatment.

Brought to you by D’Addario.

Tone on Loan

This all-original 1959 Gibson Flying V is on loan from Gibson’s Certified Vintage program. Armstrong secured it for some recent studio work, and attests that out of five he test-drove that were built in the same period, this one is the best of the bunch. He’s gotta give it back, right? “We’ll see what happens,” Armstrong grins.

Friend from ’53

Armstrong acquired this “super messed-up” 1953 Fender Telecaster with the help of a friend in Illinois. The warped neck was heat-treated to make it playable, and the body has been contoured on the back and front to give it a Jeff Beck feeling. It’s kept in open-G tuning for some live performances.

Dynamic Duo

In studio, Armstrong uses a 1965 Vox AC15 2x12 combo and a Marshall JMP Super Bass. When playing live, he runs the JMP alongside a 1963 Fender Bassman.

Tyler Armstrong’s Pedals

Among Armstrong’s select studio weapons are a Sonic Research ST-200 tuner, Mythos Oracle, Electro-Harmonix Small Stone EH4800, Mythos Luxury Drive, EarthQuaker Devices Swiss Things, R2R Electric Pre-Amp with an extra knob for EQ, MXR Phase 90, vintage Maestro PS-1A, and an L.R. Baggs Voiceprint D.I.

Fender 1953 Telecaster

Fender 1965 Stratocaster

Gibson 1964 SG

Gibson 1976 Explorer

Rickenbacker 660-12

Gibson 1959 Les Paul Junior

It might be an overstatement to call the J. Rockett Aqueous chorus “surgical.” But for any player that has lamented a lack of subtlety in vintage-style chorus effects, the Aqueous offers an impressive level of control, making it a promising studio and performance tool and an intriguing alternative to the classics—even as it often excels at those sounds.

Waves on the Turquoise Sea

J. Rockett seems to relish a challenge. Even drive pedals, like their Archer series of Klon clones, sit either at the head of their class or are designed to the specification of a very particular, discerning player. In some cases, they have collaborated with designers responsible for stompbox institutions, with the aim of redefining them. They rarely build anything ordinary, and in that way the Aqueous fits the company’s lineage well.

The Aqueous’ digital circuitry is built around the Accu-Bell ABE-1, an effect module constructed by the same company that makes the popular Belton Brick module at the heart of many popular and excellent digital reverbs. Though it’s a digital circuit, Aqueous’ sounds make it a spiritual descendant of many pedals that vintage heads obsess over, like the Boss CE-1 and CE-2 and Electro-Harmonix Poly Chorus and Clone Theory. With the exception of the Poly Chorus, most of these pedals were straightforward affairs offering little control beyond rate and depth. Where additional controls existed, as with the Poly Chorus, they often served to make things extra weird. What’s cool about the Aqueous is that it uses its extra flexibility to achieve greater precision and subtlety instead.

The most interesting of these additional controls are the preamp and tilt EQ knobs. The former will appeal to some as a way to compensate for perceived volume loss. But it’s also capable of subtle drive that blurs modulations and makes them sound like a more cohesive part of your signal, not unlike a dark analog delay. The tilt EQ adds either real darkness by subtracting high end, or brightness that brings a more analog-like liveliness to the output. The tilt EQ works beautifully in concert with the wet-dry mix control, another much less common chorus control parameter, to enable very specific shaping of the modulation intensity and presence.

The practical importance of chorus—or any modulation—that can be foregrounded or tucked back into the hidden corners of a mix in this fashion is hard to underestimate. In live situations, different rooms can respond to the EQ peaks and valleys created by chorus in the same way overdrive or distortion can, and the ability to adapt to those shifts can be the difference between a guitar that goes missing in a mix and one that vibrates with life. The studio benefits of a chorus this nuanced are even more obvious. In both situations the Aqueous can be a great scalpel.

I Threw a Brick

As we’ve noted in earlier J. Rockett reviews, the company has a way of building things to a bulletproof standard. This applies to the Aqueous for sure. Though the I/O and 9V DC jacks are mounted to the printed circuit as well as the enclosure, the enclosure itself is robust enough to be used in self-defense. And it’s hard to imagine many shocks, bumps, or bruises that the Aqueous couldn’t handle. The knobs, meanwhile, are the kind that make on-the-fly adjustments easy. They are smooth, sensitive, and resistant to accidental adjustments. But the real beauty of the control set is the use of Neve-style wing knobs for the preamp and tilt eq, which stand up a little taller and facilitate easy adjustment with your toe.

The Verdict

If you're open-minded about what chorus can be, the Aqueous merits more than a casual tryout. Vintage-aligned players with very specific opinions about how chorus should sound might find certain elements of classic voices missing. Aqueous’ tendency to be many things could also come at the expense of super-deep, over-the-top sounds like those a vintage Poly Chorus or Way Huge’s Blue Hippo can generate.

But if you’re less attached to those templates, Aqueous might leave you wondering why anyone bothers with less tailorable chorus units. A colleague suggested that Aqueous might be a chorus for people who don't like chorus. I’d venture that Aqueous is simply a great chorus for players who want a more flexible one.

{ "@context": "https://schema.org", "@type": "Product", "name": "Aqueous Chorus Pedal", "image": ["https://www.premierguitar.com/media-library/image.jpg?id=65113648&width=980"], "description": "", "brand": { "@type": "Brand", "name": "J. Rockett Audio Designs" }, "offers": { "@type": "Offer" , "price": 249 .99, "priceCurrency": "USD" , "url": "https://sweetwater.sjv.io/aOynZb" } } /* Container */ .pg-product-card { box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; max-width: 760px; margin: 24px auto; border-radius: 14px; border: 1px solid #e3e3e3; padding: 16px; background: #ffffff; display: grid; grid-template-columns: 1fr; gap: 16px; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", sans-serif; } /* Layout modifiers */ .pg-product-card.pg-layout-full { grid-template-columns: 1fr; } @media (min-width: 720px) { .pg-product-card.pg-layout-split { grid-template-columns: 220px minmax(0, 1fr); align-items: center; } } /* Image */ .pg-product-card__image-wrap { position: relative; border-radius: 12px; overflow: hidden; background: #f4f4f4; aspect-ratio: 1 / 1; } .pg-product-card__image-link { display: block; width: 100%; height: 100%; } .pg-product-card__image { width: 100%; height: 100%; object-fit: cover; display: block; } /* Body */ .pg-product-card__body { display: flex; flex-direction: column; gap: 8px; } /* Badge */ .pg-product-card__badge { display: inline-block; padding: 4px 10px; border-radius: 999px; background: #111111; color: #ffffff; font-size: 11px; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.06em; text-transform: uppercase; margin-bottom: 2px; } /* Company + title */ .pg-product-card__company { font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0.08em; text-transform: uppercase; color: #666666; font-weight: 600; } .pg-product-card__title { font-size: 20px; line-height: 1.25; margin: 2px 0 4px; font-weight: 700; } /* Description */ .pg-product-card__description { font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.6; color: #222222; } /* Meta / price */ .pg-product-card__meta { margin-top: 6px; margin-bottom: 10px; } .pg-product-card__price { font-size: 13px; display: flex; gap: 6px; align-items: baseline; } .pg-product-card__price-label { text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 0.08em; color: #777777; font-weight: 600; font-size: 11px; } .pg-product-card__price-value { font-weight: 700; font-size: 14px; } /* Buttons */ .pg-product-card__actions { display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; gap: 8px; } .pg-product-card__btn { display: inline-flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; padding: 8px 14px; border-radius: 999px; font-size: 13px; font-weight: 600; text-decoration: none; border: 1px solid transparent; cursor: pointer; white-space: nowrap; } .pg-product-card__btn--primary { background: #000000; color: #ffffff; } .pg-product-card__btn--secondary { background: #ffffff; color: #000000; border-color: #cccccc; } /* Disclosure */ .pg-product-card__disclosure { margin-top: 8px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.4; color: #888888; } /* Mobile tweaks */ @media (max-width: 540px) { .pg-product-card { padding: 14px; } .pg-product-card__actions { flex-direction: column; align-items: stretch; } .pg-product-card__btn { width: 100%; } }

Adam Sturgeon, Status/Non-Status

Being left-handed has major downsides when it comes to guitars. There are very few choices available, setups are often terrible, and the better options come with reversed wiring. I've spent a lot of time building my own guitars, with various issues and inevitable failures along the way. So, it was very exciting to connect with Belvedere in building my own, fully custom leftie. Belvedere is a newer guitar company operating out of the Mile End Guitar Coop in Montreal. From highly curated woods to handwound pickups, pre- and post-build consults, I’m feeling incredibly fortunate and inspired to work with them!

Obsession: Lately, I’ve also been totally obsessed with tattoos. Again. There are several shops and quite the community of artists in my neighborhood, and I’ve been making new friends and getting renditions of some of my favorite personal items tattooed all over my legs—a coffee mug, old guitar pedal, even a hockey skate.

Dennis Cagle, Reader

I have gone to NAMM and other vintage shows for a number of years now. I’ve played the best of the big-name manufacturers, as well as boutique guitars from across the country … and other continents. As a lifelong musician and a wanna-be luthier myself, I honestly can say that my favorite builder is none other than Anthony Sims and the guys at Lucky Dog Guitars. They produce the best-quality, best-sounding, best-looking, and best-playing guitars that I’ve found. Even though I’m no longer on the road, and the guitars that come in for setups or other jobs are ones I work on for my own enjoyment, I had to buy a Lucky Dog for myself. For playability, it’s the standard that I strive for when I send one out. I won’t even mention what great guys Anthony, John, and Eric are.

Obsession: A few years ago, I attended the Amigo Guitar Show that comes to Franklin, TN, each year. This show had thousands of vintage instruments, treasures really. One vendor had a $60,000 price tag on a Martin dated around 1918, if I remember correctly, and he looked at me and said, “Pick it up and play it.” I’ve been obsessed ever since.

Ted Drozdowski, Contributing Editor

For sound, imagination, and vibe, Chris Mills from Zuzu Guitars in Pennsylvania is my guy. Chris built my main instrument, which I call the Green Monster, and no two of his guitars are alike. The Monster’s finish is a Behr color called fish pond, the mahogany body and perfect-for-me neck are hand cut, and Chris makes his own exceptional pickups, which, with coil splitting, give me the core tones of a Les Paul and a Strat, with a Strat’s weight and balance. If you check zuzuguitars.wordpress.com, you can see all of his work, which is trad and rad at the same time.

Obsession: Tremolo. I’m in a Pops Staples phase … again. But, I love adding EHX’s Pico Atomic Cluster to it, for a William Burroughs approach to melody.

Brett Petrusek, Director of Advertising

Rock N Roll Relics for their unmistakable visual signature, cool energy, and rock ’n’ roll attitude. Their shop in North Hollywood has an old-school record store vibe. It reminds me of the early San Dimas Charvel era. Every guitar I’ve picked up from Billy Rowe and Co. has always just felt great, like an old friend. You don’t need to spend a lot of time getting to know the guitar; it just works with you right away. With custom finishes, custom colors, and premium parts, like ratio tuners by Graph Tech, Jescar Frets, TonePros bridges, paper in oil capacitors, and multiple pickup configurations, you can make it your own. It’s also cool to know that no two guitars are the same—when it’s yours it’s uniquely yours.

A totally different style, but I must also give a shout out to Tonfuchs guitars from Germany. I was happy to discover and see a few of these guitars in the wild at the 2026 NAMM show; the builds were impeccable. Uwe Schölch is an artisan/craftsman of the highest order. Check his guitars at tonfuchs-guitars.com, and on IG at: @tonfuchs_guitar.

Obsession: Currently in the studio working on my band’s second album and I kinda want a Flying V. So yeah, recording and Flying Vs.

Electric guitars can be marvelous contradictions. They are simultaneously robust mechanical objects and fragile ecosystems where a few small changes can turn poetry into prattle. The good news for those of us who prefer our magic quick and easy is that improvements don’t require a lot of money or late nights spent questioning life choices. Here are a handful of my favorite simple tweaks that can enhance performance and sound. I think of these as seasoning adjustments rather than major structural renovations—salt, not sous-vide.

1. Saddle-Slot Polishing: Who doesn’t benefit from a nice massage? I know I do. Microscopic burrs or rough casting marks on saddles—especially on import bridges—can rob sustain and introduce phantom harmonics as well as tuning issues. You don’t need to totally reshape anything, just a little buff and shine. Use a strip of 1000–2000 grit sandpaper or abrasive cord gently pulled through the string slot a few times. The goal isn’t to reshape anything, it’s just subtle smoothing. The audible result is a clearer attack, smoother decay, and fewer pings when tuning.

2. Trem Spring Alignment and Tension: Fender-style tremolo springs are usually installed once and then forgotten, but uneven spring tension can cause a bridge to return inconsistently. Try loosening the claw screws slightly and then retighten them evenly, counting the turns and matching the distance traveled. Be sure to mark where you began by drawing a line on a piece of masking tape. I like to snap a reference photo to remind me where I started. Symmetrical tension often yields a more predictable return-to-zero, so start there. Some techs advise removing a spring or two on the treble side where the tension is higher, but I always start with all of the springs on deck. Keep experimenting until you get the result you want. If things improve, you’re gold. If not, relax, because that photo will always be your map back home.

3. Pickup Screw Isolation: Here’s one for those of us not afraid of getting lost in the woods. Pickup-mounting screws can transfer vibration from the body into the pickup in unpredictable ways—especially if you play loud or use a ton of gain. Put a short length of surgical tubing over the adjustment screws instead of using traditional springs. The pickup becomes mechanically quieter, which translates to less microphonic behavior at volume. Larger tubing can quiet the springs themselves if that’s the problem. While you’re in there you can stick a length of self-adhesive foam rubber to the bottom of the pickup plate to calm down microphonics.

“Electric guitars are a microscope for vibrations, so it helps to start at one end of the fiddle and check everything that screws or bolts down.”

4. Contact-Point Cleaning: Electrical contact cleaner is cheap but the results are big. Your guitar has more contact points than you might imagine. Output jack, switch contacts, pot wipers, and bridge ground screws are all fair game. Oxidation is the silent tone thief, stealing high end and dulling your tone. A five-minute cleaning session can restore sparkle you didn’t realize had left the room. This isn’t mojo—it’s maintenance. If you’re feeling ambitious, take this opportunity to re-solder anything that looks questionable.

5. Tighten Up and Fly Right: Loose or rattling parts can introduce mechanical noise, especially at stage volume. Electric guitars are a microscope for vibrations, so it helps to start at one end of the fiddle and check everything that screws or bolts down. Start with the tuners and work your way down. The audible differences are minimal—until they aren’t. When you’re standing in front of a loud amp, eliminating one more source of chaos is an act of mercy.

6. Neck-Screw Torque Consistency: On bolt-on guitars, uneven clamping pressure can subtly affect resonance. Remove and reinstall the neck screws one at a time, tightening them evenly and deliberately—not crazy-tight, just consistent and snug. If you feel any of the screws very easy to turn going in, you might want to put a thin strip of wood in the body hole to improve positive mechanical contact. If you want, you can remove the neck altogether and look for stray finish or anything that might be between the neck and body that might rob the transfer of vibration.

Final Thoughts from the Bench: None of these modifications will turn a plank into a prima donna on their own, but that’s not the point. Guitars, like recipes, respond best to small, thoughtful adjustments made by you while paying attention. Every little thing contributes to the whole. Sometimes the improvement isn’t just the sound itself—it’s your relationship to the instrument after you’ve listened closely while messing with it. And if nothing else, you’ll have spent a few hours learning about your guitar in the most direct way possible: with your hands on it, instead of your wallet.

Joe Satriani and Steve Vai have one of the deepest guitar-shredding relationships in the 6-string universe. Famously, Satch was Steve Vai’s guitar teacher back in their Long Island days, and they’ve developed their careers across the decades as solo artists, as partners in the G3 world, and now with their own co-led band, SATCHVAI. To celebrate, we’ve got a two-episode arc with each of the guys talking about the other one’s playing. First up is Satch talking all things Vai, from their early days in the lesson room to their upcoming Surfing With the Hydra tour.

Thanks to our Sponsor!

Brought To You By Rocky Mountain Slides www.premierguitar.com

Visit rockymountainslides.com

Legendary guitar icons Joe Satriani and Steve Vai return today with the SATCHVAI Band release of their brand new single, “Dancing,” out now via earMUSIC, alongside a wildly entertaining new video directed by Satriani’s son, ZZ Satriani.

The video stars actor, comedian and musician Brendon Small (Metalacolpyse. Dethklok), a longtime friend of both guitarists, who hilariously portrays an overzealous talent manager pushing the duo to cast dancers for the band’s upcoming live show. The chaos unfolds in sync with the track’s fast-moving melodic interplay between Satriani and Vai — a rapid-fire exchange of soaring guitar lines that mirrors the eccentric parade of auditioning performers. Eagle-eyed fans will also spot a cameo from the band’s powerhouse drummer Kenny Aronoff, adding to the tongue-in-cheek energy.

Musically, “Dancing”— a reimagined interpretation of a song by iconic Italian singer, pianist, and songwriter Paolo Conte — showcases the SATCHVAI Band at full throttle — a vibrant, melodic conversation between two of rock’s most expressive guitar voices. Built on momentum, melody, and fearless musical chemistry, the track captures the spirit of spontaneity and joy that defined their electrifying European tour.

Satriani shares, “‘Dancing’ really captures the playful side of what Steve and I discovered on stage together last summer — that push-and-pull of melody and energy. The video gave us a chance to show that spirit in a completely different way. Watching ZZ bring this absurd casting concept to life — and having Brendon step into the madness — made it even more fun.”
Vai adds, “This band thrives on surprise — musically and visually. ‘Dancing’ is a perfect example of that. It’s melodic but relentless, and the video turns that energy into a kind of surreal comedy. It’s a glimpse into the personality of this band before we even hit the stage.”

The release arrives as the SATCHVAI Band prepares to bring their “Surfing With The Hydra” 2026 U.S. Tour stateside for the first time. Launching April 1 in Seattle and running through May 30 at Wolf Trap, the tour follows a celebrated European run that included stops in London, Paris, Copenhagen, and festival appearances at Hellfest, Umbria Jazz Festival, and Guitares en Scène.

Support on all dates will come from progressive metal innovators Animals as Leaders.

On the Surfing With The Hydra Tour, fans can expect a full-band, high-energy performance featuring more new material from the forthcoming SATCHVAI Band album alongside iconic favorites from both artists’ catalogs.

“Dancing” follows the duo’s previous releases, including the cinematic instrumental “The Sea of Emotion, Pt. 1” and the anthemic “I Wanna Play My Guitar,” featuring powerhouse vocals from Glenn Hughes of Deep Purple and Black Country Communion. A full album is expected later this year.

Together, these tracks preview a collaboration that is decades in the making. Despite nearly 50 years of friendship, the SATCHVAI Band marks the first time Satriani and Vai have formally united in a shared group — alongside Aronoff, bassist Marco Mendoza, and guitarist Pete Thorn — forging a live experience built on virtuosity, friendship and fearless creativity.

All ticket details available at SATCHVAIBAND.COM

SATCHVAI Band “Surfing with the Hydra” 2026 U.S. Tour (with Animals as Leaders):
April 1 – Seattle, WA – Paramount Theatre
April 2 – Portland, OR – Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall
April 4 – Oakland, CA – Fox Theater
April 5 – Reno, NV – Grand Sierra Resort and Casino
April 7 – Long Beach, CA – Long Beach Terrace Theater
April 8 – San Diego, CA – Cal Coast Credit Union Open Air Theatre
April 10 – Mesa, AZ – Mesa Amphitheatre
April 11 – Las Vegas, NV – The Theater at Virgin Hotels Las Vegas
April 14 – Denver, CO – Mission Ballroom
April 16 – Houston, TX – 713 Music Hall
April 17 – Dallas, TX – Music Hall at Fair Park
April 18 – Austin, TX – ACL Live at the Moody Theater
April 20 – Mobile, AL – Saenger Theatre
April 22 – Pompano Beach, FL – Pompano Beach Amphitheater
April 24 – Clearwater, FL – Baycare Sound
April 25 – St. Augustine, FL – St. Augustine Amphitheatre
April 26 – Orlando, FL – Hard Rock Live
April 27 – Atlanta, GA – Atlanta Symphony Hall
April 29 – Charlotte, NC – Ovens Auditorium
April 30 – Durham, NC – DPAC
May 2 – Minneapolis, MN – State Theatre
May 3 – Chicago, IL – Chicago Theatre
May 5 – Milwaukee, WI – The Riverside Theater
May 7 – Nashville, TN – Ryman Auditorium
May 8 – Cincinnati, OH – PNC Pavillion at Riverbend Music Center
May 9 – Indianapolis, IN – Everwise Amphitheater at White River State Park
May 10 – St. Louis, MO – The Factory
May 12 – Buffalo, NY – Kleinhans Music Hall
May 13 – Toronto, Ont – Meridian Hall
May 15 – Northfield, OH – MGM Northfield Park
May 16 – Rochester Hills, MI – Meadow Brook Amphitheatre
May 17 – Syracuse, NY – Landmark Theatre
May 20 – Boston, MA – Leader Bank Pavilion
May 21 – Albany, NY – Palace Theatre
May 22 – Waterbury, CT – Palace Theater
May 23 – Virginia Beach, VA – The Dome
May 27 – Reading, PA – Santander Performing Arts Center
May 28 – New York, NY – Beacon Theatre
May 29 – Atlantic City, NJ – Borgata Hotel Casino & SpaMay 30 – Vienna, VA – Wolf Trap

Twin brothers Tim and Nick Frank were college students in their Canadian hometown when they built their first guitar.

It was the late 2000s, and Tim Frank was working a summer job at a canoe club that had taken over a decommissioned firehouse on Ward’s Island, just south of Toronto’s harborfront. There, he and his brother had access to a backyard shed equipped with a bandsaw, a MacGyvered drill press, and a dream.

It wasn’t the first time either of them had experimented with lutherie. When they were teenagers, Nick had gifted Tim a copy of a Dan Erlewine book on guitar repair, and Tim started doing fixups for his friends while Nick defretted his bass so that he could play more like Jaco Pastorius.

Building their own guitar posed a whole other challenge. The first one they built together at the canoe club had problems, but it showed a lot of promise. Tim and Nick kept honing their skills at college in Halifax, working out of a tiny room in Tim’s house that they converted into an ad-hoc workshop. When they returned to Toronto, they found a home in a 2,600-square-foot warehouse space in a century-old building in the city’s east end, which is where they decided to go all-in and start their own guitar company in 2014.

Fast-forward to today, and the Frank Brothers Guitar Company is established as an international purveyor of boutique guitars, with a small but mighty catalog of one-of-a-kind designs. Led by Tim and Nick, with business support from their older brother Jon, Frank Brothers has carved out a niche with its unique, vintage-inspired aesthetics and high-quality craftsmanship.

The company’s signature model is the Arcade, a double-arched solid body noted for its eye-catching look, comfortable playability, and warmth, sustain, and openness. When Frank Brothers brought the Arcade to the NAMM show just a few years into the company’s tenure, an early Reverb review commended the “superb build quality” and described playing it as “a raw and overwhelming experience.”

Since then, Frank Brothers’ reputation has continued to grow. The company’s roster of clients includes Phish’s Trey Anastasio, Barenaked Ladies’ Ed Robertson, Zac Brown Band’s Clay Cook, Walk the Moon’s Eli Maiman, Dispatch’s Brad Corrigan, Arkells’ Mike DeAngelis, the Beaches’ Leandra Earl, and solo artist James Bay, as well as live and session players for John Mayer, Vulfpeck, and Lou Reed.

It’s been just over a decade since the Frank Brothers first broke into the boutique-guitar market. But for the full story of the family business, you have to go way further back.

A Local Legacy of Music

In the Frank family, there’s an ingrained appreciation for craftsmanship in musical instruments that’s been passed down through generations. The brothers’ father, Jim Frank, was an award-winning recording engineer who worked with artists like Alice Cooper, Peter Gabriel, Bob Seger, and the Guess Who. Through him, the brothers learned about the value of high-fidelity sound. Their grandfather, Philip Frank, was an acclaimed violinist who played with Arturo Toscanini’s NBC Symphony Orchestra and recorded with a golden-era Stradivarius. He taught them respect for quality instruments. “We grew up with this understanding that not all instruments were made the same, and that they didn’t have equal value or sound, and that there were some instruments that were just special,” Tim Frank says.

So, when the brothers started building their own guitars professionally, they wanted to make instruments that would sound great, feel great, and play great—and last for generations. “When we first started, there was this newbie attitude where we didn’t know any better, so we tried to achieve something that we didn’t have the skills for at the time,” Tim says. “But we were always chasing perfection.”

The Frank brothers also had access to a wealth of knowledge and guidance from several master luthiers based in Toronto. When Jean Larrivée gained international respect for his steel-string acoustics in the 1970s, he enlisted several highly talented craftspeople to help build Larrivée Guitars. When he later relocated to Canada’s west coast and then onward to California, Larrivée left behind a community of people like William “Grit” Laskin, Linda Manzer, David Wren, and Tony Duggan-Smith, who stayed in Toronto and became renowned luthiers themselves.

“There’s been a culture of guitar-making here in Toronto since the ’70s, and these people were still around,” says Tim. “We got the opportunity to talk to some of them, ask them questions.”

Finding Their Niche

In a world of Fenders and Gibsons, the twins wanted to stand out. For inspiration, they looked to the retro Japanese imports of the ’60s and ’70s. These were models that took the recognizable silhouettes of classic American guitars and twisted and stretched them into funky new shapes that still resembled the originals, but were different enough that the companies making them wouldn’t get sued. “We wanted to make something that was familiar but different,” Tim says. “Something that people would recognize, but would also be its own thing.”

Drafting their concepts by hand, Tim designed the body and Nick the headstock, each of them sketching separately. When they put their two pieces of draft paper together, the designs complemented each other perfectly. Call it twin telepathy.

By the time of their third guitar build, they had zeroed in on what would be recognized today as an Arcade. The design features an arched top and back, an extra-deep neck tenon, and their signature “blended heel,” with a 25" scale length, a 12" radius, and a deluxe, hand-painted finish.

“We grew up with this understanding that not all instruments were made the same.”—Tim Frank

A couple of years ago, they added two additional models, both with a body design that looks a tad like a Gibson SG but sits more like a classic Fender. The Radar Deluxe is a set-neck mahogany guitar with a 24 3/4" scale length and a 12" radius with Kalamazoo-style parts. The Sonar is a California-inspired design with an alder body and a maple bolt-on neck, with a 25 1/2" scale length, a 9.5" radius, deep body contours, and Fullerton-inspired parts such as a Mastery vibrato and a chopped T-style bridge.

That brings Frank Brothers’ current catalog to six models in total, all fully customizable. There are four different Arcade models, with the base edition starting at $4,495, the thinline at $4,695, the signature at $5,795, and the semi-hollow at $6,795. The Sonar is the most affordable at $3,895 and up, while the Radar Deluxe starts at $4,395.

Almost all of Frank Brothers’ guitars are custom models that are made to order. Occasionally, they’ll make a few “brothers’ choice” guitars that they’ll sell on their website, and some are made for their 11 dealers in Canada, the U.S., United Kingdom, Netherlands, and Japan.

In the early days, it would take about 12 weeks to make one guitar. But their two-man operation has since doubled with the addition of two craftspeople so they can keep up with demand. Nowadays, the company makes two or three guitars a week; last year, they built 138 total.

A Meticulous Process

Step into the Frank Brothers workshop in Toronto and you’ll instantly be greeted by the rich, earthy aroma of freshly cut wood. On the day Premier Guitar stopped by, the air was filled with the sweet smell of Spanish cedar, evoking a sauna or a cigar box. (In this case, the guitar being built was for a cigar-loving client, so it was an intentional choice.)

Frank Brothers mostly uses mahogany for the Arcade model and the Radar Deluxe, but some are made with korina instead—for clients, like blues guitarist Josh Smith, who are seeking a body similar to mahogany but with a bit more presence and clarity in the mid-range. The Sonar is typically alder or maple.

“There are few people you can be as ruthlessly honest with as your brothers.”—Tim Frank

The company brings in ethically sourced shipments of new woods a few times a year, letting them dry out for over a year before cutting them into smaller chunks for body blanks, which are further dried for another six to 12 months until they’re ready to be milled. The milling process itself happens in gradual steps using their novelty-size jointer and Haas CNC machine to gradually pare down and shape the wood as its natural tension is released. “We’re not just milling it and then making the guitar,” Tim says. “We’re milling it, letting it rest, letting it de-stress, milling it again, and shaping it over time so that we get the most stable piece.”

During our visit, the CNC machine was in the process of milling the radius into a fretboard, having already been resurfaced three previous times. When it comes time for the fret slots, they’ll cut them in a pocket style rather than a straight line through the wood so that the fret tangs aren’t visible from the sides. Tim says this creates a firmer fit. “It’s a little detail that adds fractions of an amount of extra stiffness,” he says. “But, you know, we’re going for fractions.”

Once the fretboard gets glued to the neck, they use a highly precise straight edge to re-level the wood with sanding blocks until they reach their straightness tolerance of one half of a thousandth of an inch—less than the thickness of a human hair. They repeat that process again as they build in the tension of a single-action truss rod, and again as frets are installed.

Frank Brothers also take an unusual approach to their joints. For their angled headstocks, they use a “diamond” volute joint popularized by Martin acoustics prior to the First World War and typically found today on high-end classical or flamenco guitars. Tim Frank says it’s a highly labor-intensive practice, but it gives them a more sturdy, durable joint and, as a side benefit, the process uses a template that reduces wood waste. And then there’s Frank Brothers’ secret ingredient, the “blended heel.” Because the Arcade body is arched on both the top and the back, there’s no flat reference surface to build the heel. Instead, they do the build inside a block of wood, and only once they’re ready to glue the neck in do they cut the shape of the guitar.

“You get this big, Bo Diddley-looking thing with the neck in it,” Tim says. “And then we put it on the machine, and then we cut it out. It’s more like carving a statue from a block of marble than it is building a piece of furniture or a traditional guitar.”

While both brothers have a hand in each guitar from first cut to final finish, the woodworking is Nick’s area of focus. Tim’s specialty is the finishing, done entirely by hand with a nitrocellulose lacquer and great attention to detail, making it the most time-consuming part of the whole process.

Frank Brothers opt for classic colors like candy apple red, Pelham blue, shoreline gold, and sunbursts, but they put their own retro-inspired spin on these by tweaking and re-toning the paints so they appear aged. While finishing, Tim even takes it an extra step further by using a razor blade glued to a toothpick to meticulously scrape the color off along the edges to reveal the bony white binding.

“At this price range, it’s expected that it has to sound good, play great, look great,” Tim says. “But where we have a lot of fun is with those really small details—finessing those things into making these guitars go beyond expectation.”

“It’s a little detail that adds fractions of an amount of extra stiffness. But, you know, we’re going for fractions.”—Tim Frank

By the time a Frank Brothers guitar is ready to play, roughly 60 hours of manual labor have been undertaken at their Toronto workshop. Tim Frank says their pursuit of perfection is ultimately what has allowed them to grow their client base almost entirely by word of mouth.

“The feedback we get from people that play our guitars—even in Toronto, where the weather and humidity fluctuate like crazy—is that they really don’t need to mess with them,” Tim says. “They’re super, super stable because of all that engineering. The end result is a guitar that you don’t need to futz with much. And also, we think it makes for a better-sounding guitar—something that’s more responsive, a little bit more lively, and with better sustain.”

A Guitar to Last Generations

For the Frank Brothers Guitar Company, it’s all in the name. The Frank family fostered an appreciation for fine instruments, and now that the brothers are running their own family business, that brotherly dynamic powers everything they do. “There are few people you can be as ruthlessly honest with as your brothers,” Tim says. “That relationship has really influenced the way we build guitars and the level that we work at. We’re really focused on the details.”

Tim defines that standard as “heirloom quality”—the idea that a Frank Brothers guitar should be something that you’d be proud to pass on to your children and grandchildren, the same way their father and grandfather passed on their musical legacies.

“We’re trying to make something that you would not only be proud to own and play yourself, but also want to pass along to the next generation,” Tim says. “We’re trying to make timeless guitars.”

As pedal builders, we often field questions about effects, but many players endlessly chase tone without grasping that the guitar-pedal-amp ecosystem is an inseparable whole. The initial signal from your guitar is the primary architect of your tone’s gain structure and frequency response. It’s the “first domino.” Every subsequent device in your chain—every capacitor in that boutique pedal and every line of code in your modeler—is just reacting to the ghost that your pickups sent into the wire.

The relationship between pickups and pedals is highly dynamic—an interaction between impedance and signal level. Consider one of the most popular pedals: the Ibanez Tube Screamer. In the hands of a metalhead with an active-pickup guitar and a high-gain amp, it functions as a reliable booster, yielding an aggressive metal sound. Conversely, in the hands of a bluesman with a Strat and single-coils plugged into a Fender amp, the Tube Screamer becomes the heart of a very SRV-esque blues tone. The same pedal, yet its response and character drastically change depending on the input signal.

The most extreme example is the fuzz pedal. (Personally, we focus on building fuzzes and other unique pedals.) In my experience, fuzz is the most idiosyncratic and signal-responsive pedal, affected not only by the pickup but also by whether the signal passes through a buffer or not. Empirically, my hypothesis is: Fuzz generally struggles to produce a clear, usable sound with high-gain or active pickups.

Technically, this happens because traditional fuzz circuits (especially those using germanium transistors) have low input impedance and severely limited headroom. High-gain pickups send a signal that is simply too “hot,” causing excessive and uncontrolled clipping at the fuzz pedal’s input. This results in a muddy, indistinct sound (or what’s often called “splattering”). Low-gain pickups, on the other hand (like single-coils, P-90s, or PAF-style humbuckers), provide a quieter initial signal, preserving the fuzz circuit’s headroom and allowing it to produce rich, dynamic textures.

The Ampless Rig: A New Challenge

So, what about the current era of all-direct or ampless rigs? Let me share an empirical experience. I’m a huge fan of the sound of a Les Paul plugged into a tube amp. However, the reality is I’m an amateur player who can’t afford a crew to haul that heavy gear to a gig. Whether I like it or not, I had to embrace the modern ecosystem. I started experimenting with a direct system using analog/digital amp and cab simulators.

The results were surprising: My Les Paul with high-gain pickups sounded terrible—dirty and muddy—in this direct setup. Then, I tried a guitar with low-gain pickups, and it worked!

This success wasn’t because the low-gain pickup was magically better, but because it unintentionally fixed a fundamental technical issue: gain staging.

1.Digital Input Clipping: High-gain pickups produce a much higher output voltage. When this hot signal enters the input of a digital multi-effect or direct box, which has headroom limitations on its digital preamp or analog-to-digital converter (ADC), the signal undergoes digital clipping even before the amp simulation begins. This is what leads to a “broken” and indistinct sound.

2. Optimal DSP Headroom: Low-gain pickups naturally send a lower initial signal, providing much better headroom for the digital signal processing (DSP) to optimally handle distortion, modulation, and EQ.

In the modeling era, the biggest challenge is strict gain staging. Different manufacturers—Boss, Line 6, Fractal, Valeton, Nux, Hotone—implement very different analog front ends and output drivers, so results vary. Ultimately, we just have to stick to the golden rule: If it sounds good, it is good!

The bottom line is that when we talk about stompboxes, pedals, multi-effects, or modeling—none of them can stand alone. The sound of an Ibanez Tube Screamer will remain a mystery until you plug it into a guitar and an amp.

If you want to “tweak” your pedal or multi-effect, you must also tweak your guitar’s pickups. Perhaps the problem isn’t the pedal’s algorithm or the modeling itself, but your gain staging is ruined because your pickup is too hot, making the signal too large to be ideally interpreted and processed mathematically by the multi-effect you are using.

And all of this can change with time and need. For me, when gigging with a tube amp, I like using a Seymour Duncan El Diablo in the bridge position (to aggressively push the tube preamp). When using a direct or modeling setup, I prefer a Seymour Duncan Jazz Model in the bridge position (because the cleaner, low-output signal provides better headroom for the digital processor).

Think of your pickup as the lens on a high-end camera. You can have the most powerful image processor in the world—the flashiest DSP or the most expensive boutique pedal—but if the lens is blurry or letting in too much light, the final “picture” will always be a distorted mess.

Adding to the company’s line of boutique effects, Lucky Dog Guitars has introduced the Chicken Nugget compressor, capable of delivering old school guitar compression made famous by country players throughout the decades, but with modern updates. The Chicken Nugget combines classic dynamic compressor sound and feel with an added sparkly clean tone in a separate, parallel channel. The two channels are completely independent and have their own dedicated volume knobs for maximum flexibility as you blend them together. Both channels offer plenty of output above unity gain, so both can be used as volume boosters.

The Chicken Nugget’s eye-grabbing graphics are augmented by a large retro-style jewel pilot light (in a “fried chicken” color) and playful descriptions for the control set. The compression channel offers three knobs and a two-position toggle switch for tone shaping. The “Cluck” knob controls the amount of compression; “Crow” varies the compression release time; and “Comp” adjusts the output volume level of the compressor channel.

The compression channel’s two-position toggle adds EQ flexibility: its “Greasy” and “Crispy” settings can tailor the effect to your guitar’s pickups. Use the “Greasy” setting with bright single coils for classic compression twang. Use the “Crispy” low-cut setting for tightening up a humbucker by eliminating muddy low-end frequencies.

The pedal’s clean channel offers two control knobs. “Gain” adds body and juice to your clean signal, while “Volume” controls the clear, uncolored signal parallel that can be added to the compressed signal.

Other features include:

• Soft switch controlled mechanical true bypass – if the pedal loses power it immediately goes into true bypass so you don’t lose your signal
• 9-volt operation using standard external power source – no battery compartment
• Retro-cool graphics and “chicken head” knobs, color coded for ease of use: cream for the compression channel and red for the clean channel

The Lucky Dog Chicken Nugget carries a $189 street price and is available through luckydogguitars.com

On-Stage, a leading supplier of music instruments and accessories and brand of The Music People, has released the GSWB5000 Guitar Stand Workbench, a guitar-maintenance solution that safely supports an instrument while making it easier for the user to perform tasks ranging from simple string changes to intricate repairs. Its adjustable height and tilt allow the user to dial in the best angle for working on various projects.

Compact and portable, this versatile tool conserves floor space and can be set up anywhere work needs to be done on an instrument. The guitar-holder assembly provides four tilt options, letting the user choose the best angle for working on setups, pickup swaps, potentiometer and switch replacements, nut filing, or hardware upgrades. Plus, when it’s not being used as a workbench, this versatile accessory can be configured for use as a traditional guitar stand.

- YouTube

The headstock and body yokes adjust to fit a wide range of instruments including electric, acoustic, and bass guitars. Bumpers and nonslip padding protect the guitar’s finish from scratches and increase instrument stability. The height of the stand can also be set to optimize viewing and comfort while work is carried out. To ensure ideal weight distribution and balance, the guitar-holder assembly can slide so that the heaviest part of the guitar is positioned over the base.

All of these adjustments are quickly and easily achieved through the use of twist-and-pull knobs that require minimal turning and securely lock settings in place. And rotating leveling feet make it possible to compensate for uneven flooring.

The On-Stage GSWB5000 Guitar Stand Workbench carries a $99.95 street price. For more information visit On-Stage.com.

Looks can be deceiving. But there is something extra playful about the graphical subterfuge Monger Pedals employs to conceal the ferocity of their latest stomp, The Little Guy. Behind the Beatrix Potter/Timmy Willie-styled enclosure art depicting a wee country mouse and creeping vines, there lurks a beastly mash-up of op-amp fuzz and operational transducer amp (OTA)-based phaser. But The Little Guy’s roar is not just ferocious, it's also unconventional—making the most of the unusual phaser section to twist staple psychedelic sounds into many altogether weirder things.

Monger of the Mangled

Op-amp fuzz can take many shapes in the hands of a clever builder, but most players would consider the op-amp Big Muff and the Pro Co RAT as the archetypes of the effect. Of the two, The Little Guy aligns most closely with the Big Muff. I don’t have an op-amp Big Muff in my pedal collection, but the Little Guy (like a real op-amp Big Muff) has a sonic signature much like a raspier 4-silicon transistor Big Muff. Of the Big Muff types I used for comparison, a ram’s head-type sounded most similar to the Little Guy’s fuzz, and the two share a capacity for sizzly, buzzsaw-like tones that define the op-amp Big Muff. That said, the tone control in the Little Guy’s fuzz has enough range that I could dial in sounds nearly equivalent to those from a Sovtek Big Muff, which tends to be rounder and more bass-rich than an op-amp Big Muff.

Certainly, the Little Guy’s fuzz section is versatile. I may not be in the majority in this sentiment, but my favorite among the fuzzy, distorted sounds I coaxed from the circuit were those I derived when fingerpicking (using the flesh of my thumb, rather than nail or pick) and working with low-gain, treble-attenuated fuzz settings. This application is more consistent with Monger’s description of the fuzz as “lo-fi”—often evoking Steve Malkmus, Sonic Youth, and Graham Coxon in their hazier states. Yet it’s a combination that’s surprisingly sensitive to touch dynamics and yields more high-mid range detail and a much more oxygenated tone environment than you would expect. Just switching between neck and bridge pickups can reveal whole worlds of color with this approach. The Little Guy’s fuzz rips at the other end of its operational spectrum, too, and it rarely sounds lo-fi here. Settings in the latter third of the pedal’s gain and tone control range are searing but still massive in a way that suits Fender single-coils and PAF humbuckers alike.

Vexing Vortices

If the Little Guy’s fuzz section is agreeable and intuitive, the phase section is a tougher nut to crack. Familiar sounds in the fashion of a Phase 90 or Small Stone (the latter of which shares an OTA as foundation for its architecture) lurk among the interactions between the five controls, but tend to be more subtle. In fact, for all the phaser’s weirdo capabilities, in much of its range it generates super-subtle modulations. This isn’t a bad thing, especially if you like phase as a constant, backgrounded presence. The Little Guy excels at producing this mellow phase texture in a way that a Phase 90 or Small Stone cannot.

But there are many other low-key modulation colors here. You can dial in super-slow (and I mean slow) modulation rates, and then emphasize peaks in those lazy cycles by using feedback from the regen control and narrowing the frequency range with the range control. The LFOs width control is excellent for subtly backgrounding modulations so you don't mask tone nuances from elsewhere in your chain. That capability is enhanced by the effect send and return, which lets you situate pedals between the fuzz and phase effect.

"For all of this phaser’s weirdo capabilities, in much of its range it generates super-subtle modulations."

The Little Guy’s weirder phase voices are refreshingly unique. The pedal is able to generate a variety of rich, vowel-y, “wow”-type pulses more reminiscent of a vintage Mu-Tron or Ludwig Phase II. It’s also capable of fresh takes on lively auto-wah and filter sounds, and slow, sweeping versions of these tones can take on a sort of parked-wah-on-nitrous-oxide personality that I don’t encounter every day.

The Verdict

Monger’s The Little Guy sells for just less than $225. That’s a great price for almost any pedal that combines two wide-ranging effects. But it strikes me as an especially good deal when you consider the very high build quality, clear sense of craft, and thoughtful design execution. The Little Guy won’t be a great value for every player. Rather than aping canonical phase sounds, it inhabits many very idiosyncratic corners of the fuzz/phase tone realm. And if you just want a Big Muff and Phase 90, there are simpler, less-expensive, and less space intensive solutions. Consequently, you should consider my enthusiastic tone and value ratings on a sliding scale relative to your needs.

But if you’re on the hunt for variations on the fuzz/phase theme that can set a track apart and inspire new directions, Monger’s Little Guy is brimming with them—particularly if you’re willing to probe the sometimes complex and idiosyncratic interactions between its controls.

Canadian boutique builder Deslongchamps Guitars has unveiled their latest electric guitar model: The Puffin.

The Puffin pays homage to the SG guitar and the Firebird, blending classic designs with modern sensibilities, aesthetics and playability. Built with premium materials and craftmanship, the Puffin model is lightweight and the shape makes it agile and comfortable.

The Puffin can be built in two configurations: an okoume body with a flamed maple top all of it bound in white, quartersawn flamed maple neck coupled with a dark rosewood fretboard; or an ash body coupled with a torrefied maple neck and fretboard for even lighter weight and feel.

Players can choose among a variety of different Fralin pickup configurations, including PAF-style humbuckers, P90s, singlecoil Thunderbird pickups and more.

Specs:

• Okoume or Ash body
• Maple neck
• Maple of rosewood fretboard
• 24.75” or 25.5” scale length
• Tune-o-matic and stop bar bridge or Descendant bridge and tremolo combo
• Gotoh tuners
• Includes a hard case

The Puffin carries a $3500 street price. For more information visit www.deslongchampsguitars.com.

The Lamb of God shred king sits down to discuss making LoG's 10th album Into Oblivion, designing his new signature Gibson Les Paul, writing his memoir Desolation, and he offers three hot takes on guitar culture.

The Tone King Royalist Preamp brings the sound and feel of the Royalist MKIII amplifier to a compact, high-voltage pedal format built for today’s stage and studio workflows.

Powered by three 12AX7 tubes running at full amp voltages, the Royalist delivers authentic tube touch sensitivity, harmonic bloom, and dynamic response — without the volume of a cranked amp.

Real Power-Stage Feel — No Speaker Required

At its core is Tone King’s Zero-Watt Power Amp, a genuine tube-driven phase inverter circuit that recreates true power-stage compression and interaction. Players experience the feel of an overdriven British amp — at any volume.

Three Eras of British Tone. Two Fully Independent Channels.

Each channel features:

• Volume, Bass, Middle, Treble
• 1964 / 1967 / 1970 voicing switch
• FAT switch for added body and punch

From warm, vintage-inspired cleans to aggressive classic crunch and tight arena-ready drive, the Royalist delivers the evolution of British rock tone in one pedal.

Direct-Ready for Stage and Studio

The Royalist includes low-latency Impulse Response (IR) cabinet simulation with 20 curated OwnHammer IRs, six onboard IR slots, and stereo balanced XLR outputs for direct connection to FOH or recording interfaces. The IR section can also be bypassed for use with traditional power amps and cabinets.

Modern Control, Maximum Flexibility

• Save up to 128 MIDI presets
• Stereo series effects loop (bypassable)
• Reverb with assignable routing and trails
• USB-C connectivity with Tone King Editor software
• Headphone output for silent practice

Equally at home on silent stages, in the studio, or integrated into traditional rigs, the Royalist Preamp delivers the unmistakable voice of British rock — anywhere, at any volume.

Available February 26, 2026, The Royalist Preamp Carries a Street Price of $599.99 - go to TONE KING AMPS for more information.