I’ve been making ambient guitar sounds for a long time, mostly by cascading a few delay pedals into one another, and doing volume swells (I have gotten a lot of mileage out of this). But it’s an old trick, and lately I have been looking for different ways to make interesting sounds without resorting to rack gear, MIDI, or a real guitar-synthesizer, or something even more outrageous.
The Electro-Harmonix Superego pedal caught my ear, and the video demonstrations looked promising. EH claims the Superego samples “granules” of sound and makes a synth bed out of them. Granules? OK, whatever. It sounded cool, and I wanted to try one out. I resolved to wait until a used one showed up on eBay. One did, and after another eBayer’s surprise bid-retraction, the Superego pedal was on its way to my cluttered home studio for review.
Aesthetics leave a bit to be desired. The plain aluminum case is only emblazoned with a logo on the face, leaving the sides bare. This is probably all it needs, considering it is going to be buried in a crowded pedalboard, but it seems a little cheap to me. Add a coat of paint, EH. Seriously. It’s a $214 pedal.
Basic functions are covered in the manual, which is amply present online. So I will just say it has four easy-to-use knobs and a single mode switch, so basic operations are simple.
Skipping the sample & “Freeze” functions, the two obvious settings are these:
Have your dry -signal volume adjusted to match the sound your guitar makes, so you hear a note or chord exactly as if played without running through the effect, and then to adjust the effect level to blend in the synthesized “trail” to follow it. It’s a bit like playing a long reverb that changes as soon as you do.
Turn the dry signal all the way DOWN, and play the Superego like it’s some sort of guitar synth.
The Superego features an effects-loop; a send and return. This is SURPRISINGLY important. By itself,the pedal sounds -quite honestly- disappointing. There are ways to get it to work reasonably well, but I wasn’t thrilled by it. However, running the synthesized sound out of the loop and through something as simple as a modulated delay produces stunning results, which are no doubt the reason the YouTube videos feature this approach so much. I ran a delay through it, but found that this confused the synthesis engine. So I killed the delay, and ran it the delay in the Superego’s loop. Glory! Sadly, this limited the delay I chose to being only a mono effect, but for live guitar applications, mono is fine.
I’m almost convinced that EH is releasing pedals knowing full well that they can release obvious upgrades of the same pedals later, because I could imagine the Superego having a lot of additional features. In general, I found it an interesting tool, but not interesting enough that it stayed with me.
Pros: interesting concept, allows for some different approaches previously unavailable without bigger and more-complex gear.
Cons: Looks a little homemade, really needs another dedicated effect to shine.
Have you used a Superego? How did it work out for you? Any cool/interesting discoveries? Share your thoughts if you have them.
I was 11 when I learned Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway To Heaven.” Up to that point, I really had no concept of what could be done with a guitar, and I was stunned by the beauty of this music I had never heard. To this day, Jimmy Page remains my biggest influence, though I don’t really sound anything like him.
It was sixth grade, and it was as if a veil had been removed from my ears. Suddenly I was REALLY HEARING the music on the radio. The next year, MTV went on the air, and suddenly I could SEE Rock and Roll… and guitars; beautiful awesome guitars! Prior to this, and even for several years after, it was almost as if showing rock bands on mainstream network TV was inappropriate.
MTV didn’t have enough material to fill their programming time, so they showed concert footage. It was there that I saw The Who for the first time, and Rush and Triumph and Van Halen. Through produced videos, I saw Lindsey Buckingham with Fleetwood Mac, and some teenagers called Def Leppard and U2. As MTV grew, guitars seemed to wane in importance as the 80′s went in the direction of Madonna and Michael Jackson. But by then, I was a guitarist, tried and true.
I have three main spheres on influence on my playing: classic rock, shredders and early metal, and what I once heard someone call the “guitar anti-heroes”
The classic rock genre is easy, because it’s where I started. There’s Page and Hendrix and Clapton, Brian May and Pete Townshend and Alex Lifeson. Lifeson in particular carried me into and through the 80′s, where the others didn’t do much that was new or different.
It was Van Halen who changed the game for me (and millions of others). The early metal bands caught my ear, particularly Iron Maiden with Dave Murray and Adrian Smith. Vivian Campbell’s work with Dio floored me, and then Vai and Yngwie and Satriani appeared and floored me again. I thought I was doing well keeping pace with them (for a teenager) until I discovered Nuno Bettencourt. That’s when I knew I couldn’t keep up. The consolation at that point was that I had a girlfriend who was WAY more interested in my songwriting and singing.
It was then that something clicked for me. It was all about “the hook.” Peter Buck and Lindsey Buckingham and The Edge and Andy Summers and Mike Campbell and modern Alex Lifeson all suddenly made sense to me. I started writing guitar hooks into each song, and people really connected to that. When I ended up in the band I toured with, it was because my guitar hooks gave voice to the instrumental passages where our fantastic singer wasn’t actually singing. Every part became identifiable.
It was Page that taught me atmosphere and the incorporation of unusual chord voices. Hendrix taught me soul and swagger. Clapton gave me heart. Brian May gave me dexterity. Alex Lifeson gave me unconventional thinking.
Van Halen gave me freedom. Vai let me get weird, and Satch pointed out the beauty of melody. Nuno made me reach farther to reconcile funk with rock, and have fun with it. Peter Buck brought me back to the value of a jangly rhythm. Lindsey showed me how to get out of the way of the song. The Edge taught me how to make small things carry a big sound. Andy Summer let me use my jazz training to up-end stale pop formulas. Mike Campbell taught me how to write phrases that speak without words, in the middle of wordy songs.
I finally got the chance to put it all to work, to take it all out into the world, sort it out, and apply it in front of hungry listeners. I think it worked. I had a pretty good run with it. I developed a style that reflects those influences and became a pretty unique blend of them all.
Who are your main influences, and what did you take from them? How do you apply it to what you do? How well does it work? I’d love to hear about it.
My pedalboard used to be a real source of contentment for me. I’d open it up, play a gig, and glorious sounds would pour forth.
Somewhere along the line, the two gain stages I was using started to dislike each other. For several years I have been swapping out different gain pedals (overdrive and/or distortion). Presently, I’m pretty attached to a pair of custom pedals which were made by two different friends of mine, but I would like to simplify, and use a single pedal if possible.I checked out the Wampler Dual Fusion, and put it through its paces.
The pedal is visually gorgeous. Mine is the maroon/brown (mahogany?) metal-flake version. It’s housed in a sturdy 3½” x 4½” enclosure.
LAYOUT- The Dual Fusion has two inputs and two outputs, and a switch that lets you choose which order the gain stages will go.
Channel 1 (left side, blue LED) is “Vintage.”
Channel 2 (right side, red LED) is “Modern.”
Signal path order is selected via switch, either 1 → 2, or 2 → 1, or Separate***. The pedal features two sets of input/output jacks which correspond to this switch setting, so you’ll need to plug cables in correctly for your desired channel order to work. ***You can also run the gain stages independently, but I have no interest in doing this. Basically, the Dual Fusion has a voicing switch on each channel, plus standard Gain, Tone, and Volume controls. It uses those big white knobs that are usually found on boutique-type pedals. The controls are very responsive, but these knobs are why I don’t like using Fulltone pedals live— They turn too easily on accident.
Channel 1 / Vintage / Right / Blue: features a voicing switch to let you choose between “smooth” and “fat.”
Channel 2 / Modern / Left / Red: features a voicing switch to select either “throaty” or natural.”
LED’s for each channel are very bright, which can be great for playing outdoor stages on sunny daytime stages, but for dark rooms and dynamic performances with strategic lighting, it could be distracting. Admittedly, this is a pet peeve of mine.
Overall layout pros: Makes perfect sense, once you look at it. Easy to use.Overall layout cons:
Having to switch cable jacks to change circuit order is a pain.
Big knobs on responsive controls can mean trouble, live.
Compact layout is nice, but footswitches are dangerously close together.
Digging in: I plugged the Dual Fusion into my early-90′s UK reissue Vox AC15. This is an amp that does clean sounds extremely well, and has a good midrange voice when overdriven. Setting it to a big clean bright sound, I went to work dialing-in tones on the Dual Fusion.
SOUNDS- On the Vintage/Right/Blue channel… “Fat” boosts the mids in a way not unlike a classic Tube Screamer, and I found this was very flattering to my Fenders without sounding like yet another Tube Screamer copy. I REALLY liked this for rhythms. The “smooth” setting, being more transparent, worked nicely with my Les Paul. Both settings were good with my Telecaster. Gain levels cleaned up nicely in response to guitar volume. Looking at the recorded waveforms, both settings are very compressed. It pushes the guitar’s sound forward in the mix, which is a nice end-result, but might not be as “transparent” (this term seems to mean a lot of things) as one would expect. Listen with your ears. In my experience, a Tube Screamer loses a lot of the articulate treble (which can be appealing when using single coils). The Dual Fusion lets all that come through. It’s nice for chunky rhythm work, but increased gain meant more high-end noise, and some biting pick-attack.
On any given day, “transparent” seems to mean anything from a clean boost, to an overdrive with no EQ changes, to a blend of gain and unaffected signal, to a lack of any gain-induced compression; or combinations of any/all of the above. I tend to use the term to describe the EQ, but recognize that this is subjective.
The Modern/Left/Red channel features a voicing switch that allows one to choose between “throaty” and “natural.” The “throaty” setting through the AC15, was very nice. Near as I can figure, it is boosting lows and highs (or scooping-out mids) and boosting volume noticeably. Again, with the warm midrangey humbuckers on my Les Paul, this was nice. I preferred the “natural” setting on single coils. On all settings, the Dual Fusion produces (or allows) a LOT of bass frequencies through. This sounds great when playing alone in a room, but could be a mess for a live sound man, or a recording engineer. I ended up cutting my amps’ bass significantly to record the demo tracks. In the room, I heard some pretty harsh trebly tones, but what came out on the recording was very nice. For the record, I was sitting pretty close to the amps, with their speaker cones at about the level of my belt. The best recorded sounds, strangely, came from pointing the microphone RIGHT AT the speaker cone.
A lot of guitarists have lamented the loss of bass frequencies from certain pedals (the Tube Screamers, for example), and favor exaggerated bass response. I’m not one of them. Being a producer/engineer in addition to a guitarist, I spend a lot of time removing unnecessary bass-frequencies from guitar tracks. You can be sure that any sound engineer, live or studio, is doing the same. Why muck up the headroom of your amp with messy bass that needs to be removed anyway, for the clarity of the mix?
The pedal mated well with both my AC15 and my JCM-800 4010. The JCM-800 has no switches or loops or anything, and basically exists as a (small) 50w 1×12 rock machine. Pushing it’s natural distortion into harmonic bliss is always easy with any gain source, and the Dual Fusion was no exception. It is probably more than a user of this amp would ever need, though. The pedal’s responsive tone controls allowed me to get more gain out of the amp while taming its tendency to get piercing high end (no lack of treble in Marshall amps!), so that was positive. However, high gain settings from the pedal were noisy on both amps.
Ideally, I can get 4 gain stages out of two stacked gain circuits:
Totally clean (all off)
Overdrive (one on)
Distortion (the other one on)
SCREAMING (all on).
What I expected was to want to run 2 → 1, that is, the “Modern” (let’s just call it “distortion”) channel into the “Vintage” (let’s just call it “overdrive”). This is how I have had the greatest success in the past. The overdrive fattens up when hit with the distortion, and the combined gain (when compatible) creates a fantastic singing solo sound. On the Dual Fusion, this worked well, and setting the overdrive (Vintage) gain hotter, made the mids jump out more when hit with the distortion (Modern). Fantastic. However, I also liked (and maybe preferred) running 1 → 2, for more tonal consistency from gain stage to stage to combined stage. There were a lot of tonal variables to explore.
Extremely versatile, engaging tones.
There’s probably something for everyone here.
Treble transparency = noise, especially on high gain settings.
Bass-frequencies are loud, and can make a mess.
SUMMARY- The Dual Fusion is well-made, well-voiced and well-appointed, with useful features and LOTS of options on how to use them. In short, I really like it, especially for mid-level gain and rhythm on single coil guitars. I’m not crazy about the lack of midrange response/boost, and I find it noisier than I expected. Having to unplug/re-plug when switching circuit order makes this feature unusable on the fly, if it’s fastened to a crowded pedalboard. Pros-
Versatility- Users can choose gain stage order and voicing, opting to flatter different types of native guitar tones (single coils versus humbuckers), or dial in something that works well for both.
Sounds great everywhere from low-gain blues/Americana to hard rock.
Compact size, solid construction.
Concise, sensible layout; easy-to-use.
Requires unplugging and re-plugging cables to change gain-stage order.
Can be too bassy, treble can be too bright (admittedly subjective).
Treble can cause hiss from the amp, especially at high gain settings.
Bright LED’s plus close footswitches means tall guys with big feet might not stomp the footswitch(es) they intend.
Conclusion: I ended up NOT keeping the Dual Fusion after I made the demo. It isn’t for me, but it came pretty close to being the new pedal on my board! Maybe it will work better for your playing style. Any questions” Feel free to ask. And if you’ve used the Dual Fusion with great results I’d love to hear about them. Also, if you have another dual pedal that you think is worth a review/demo, let me know.
I had started a band with a drummer and bassist, assembling an original song list that sounded like it would fit in the Grunge universe, but also allowed us to play some more complex stuff. We were already doomed to fail.
Our drummer, who had a great aesthetic sense, was a teenager with a skinny teen boy’s body, and had little stamina behind the kit to play long and hard. Our bassist was a singing guitarist who picked up the bass to start a band with me, and he played bass like a guitarist. I was a know-it-all lead guitarist, determined that we could change everyone’s mind in Cincinnati about what they wanted to hear.
Grunge? Really? Who listens to THAT? We’ll do BETTER stuff.
These guys are hacks, and they’ll never be successful.
The fact that we had lasted for six months was, in itself, a triumph. But we were getting antsy. We wanted to gig. We wanted an album. We wanted to sell an album at our gigs.
In 1994, the home recording market had been exploding for a couple of years with the release of Alesis’ ADAT 8-track modular digital recorder. It used super VHS tapes, and multiple ADATs could by connected together to make more simultaneous tracks available. Link two ADATs, and you had a 16-track system. Link three, and you have 24 tracks. Well, I had an ADAT, and a friend had one too. So we had the capacity to make something like an album.
The Alesis ADAT: Finally, home studio recording can sound like the pros, when it isn’t eating your tapes.
What we did NOT have was a good recording location, or sufficient microphones.
With polite inquiries, my bandmates and I got the OK to use a church sanctuary late one night. We set up our gear, and hastily recorded ourselves playing all our songs to get the drums on tape. We knew we could overdub everything else later. Our engineer friend cobbled together some sort of method to get signal on to tape, and give us a stage monitor.
So far, here are the ways we had already failed:
We recorded before we were ready, because we were impatient.
We recorded hastily.
We planned to overdub, and made no effort to get good bass, guitar or vocal performances on tape.
Our recording system was cobbled together. No headphones!
We used a click for tempo, and played it through our stage monitor. The click bled into the drum kit’s overhead microphone. That wouldn’t be so much of a problem, but our young drummer tended to get nervous, and fall out of time.
When I got everything back to my townhouse, I heard all the flaws in playback. Being the persistent sort, I took it as a challenge to make it all work. I spent a lot of time processing the bad drum tracks, and then tried to add my guitars in such a way as to make the drum recording work.
Here are some more ways we failed:
We kept on trying to polish a turd, instead of starting over and doing it right.
We used substandard gear.
In the midst of this, we became self-conscious. Our sound was rather heavier than what our friends listened to, and we started trying to get them to like us by writing things that were a little lighter.
At about this time, I sent a demo in to a regional indie label, and got a polite rejection letter that read, “We think your sound is a bit too avant-garde, and we’re looking for something more like the next Hootie And The Blowfish.” I sure wish I had kept that letter. In any case, I sat right down and wrote something a little Hootie-flavored. Our sound was already evolving, and we reasoned that a couple Hootie-like songs mixed in with our King’s X / Soundgarden heavy stuff would make us more widely appreciated.
More things we did wrong:
Tried to please everyone.
Changed our sound.
Handled rejection poorly.
Still, what made perfect sense was to keep pounding away on a poorly-conceived album. On every work lunch-break, I raced over to my recording rig to sing a little, or get some guitars recorded. I overdid everything. Right in the middle of all of this, our bassist moved back home to Indiana. This only lasted a few months, but it put an end to our gigging and rehearsing. In the meantime, I finished the album (mostly just to prove I could). This seemed noble.
I mixed the finished album at a friend’s studio, and started working on the visual components. CD’s were the standard, but a lot of bands still trafficked in cassettes. I could see no way to afford a CD project, so I had the album mastered to a DAT, and had a small run of cassette copies made. Then (and remember this is the 1990′s) I poured money into a good tape deck, a laser printer, card stock, cassette labels and cases. I spent a ton of time learning to design logos. I printed out the adhesive labels and inserts for the cassettes, and made a few every day. Our bassist moved back to town ,and we got right back to the business of making music. He hadn’t really played bass since he moved, but that didn’t stop us from recording.
When the album was finished, here’s what we had:
Time spent trying to fix things that should have been scrapped.
A homemade cassette album that featured…
Songs that didn’t belong together.
Money thrown away on supplies and equipment.
All you have to do to end up with a similarly inferior product is to copy any of this process.
Twenty-some years later, the home recording universe is a different place. Any crap performance can be edited, and almost any bad sound can be processed into something listenable. But is that what you want? A fake representation of your abilities? To me it’s like a toupee. It isn’t real hair. You didn’t grow it, and you’re trying to fool people into thinking it’s the real you.
If your bandmates can’t perform well on their instruments, just don’t even start. Take the time to get it right. Break rehearsals down, and take turns listening to how everyone plays. When it’s tight and accurate, THEN you’re ready to start the rest. Take the time. Earn it. Somewhere down the road (sooner than you think), you’ll be listening back and wondering about your time and energy spent. Don’t you want to be proud of it?
Tech 21 has produced several items which I like very much. The original SansAmp has shown up on a many of the recordings I’ve made (I’ll bet you a sandwich you can’t identify which ones), and I liked the Bass Driver preamp on my bass so much that I bought an RBI to keep in my studio rack.
The original FlyRig seemed like such a great idea when I first discovered it, and the RK version had the sort of gain I really like, so I jumped on it. The SansAmp section, reverb and DLA (delay) are the same in both models, so the only difference is the OMG gain in the RK version, versus the PLEXI gain in the original.
First reactions:The FlyRig box is surprisingly tiny, and so I was even more surprised at how tiny the actual FlyRig actually is, inside it. Seriously, it’s the size of two cell phones end-to-end. It came with its own proprietary (and alarmingly flimsy) power supply. Sadly, this is not a standard 9v adapter, so you can’t add a FlyRig to an existing pedalboard daisy chain.
Sounds and features:By itself, the SansAmp section is glorious. It sounds like an amp, and responds like one. Tone controls are responsive and musical. The reverb is remarkable. Unfortunately, it isn’t foot-switchable. There’s no graceful way to deal with this on stage. Just don’t even try.
The OMG gain is fantastic, and interacts well with the SansAmp. Then the OMG boost sends it all into screaming rock Valhalla. Used without an amp, the SansAmp functions well as an amp-simulator, letting you boost it with the two stages of the OMG. With an amp, the SansAmp section can be used as its own boost/gain, and the OMG and its boost can be tweaked differently. So there are lots of gain combinations to explore.
The DLA section boasts a really nice-sounding tap delay, with the option to add a randomized modulation. Turning the delay-time all the way down allows the modulation to be used as a “secret” chorus. As a delay freak, I was disappointed that the only realistic use of the delay was tapped quarter notes (or 8th-notes if I double-timed it). If you want dotted-8th delays, you better be able to tap a beat-and-a-half. Lotsa luck with that. I was further disappointed (and really surprised) by the DLA noise floor.
Persnickety:There is a current trend to have footpedals color the clouds with their huge bright light shows. I hate this. When I perform, I want my pedal rig to be as unobtrusive as possible. The Flyrig lights up every knob in each section that’s enabled. I wish each function just had a single LED. If you like footlights, you may love it. Moreover, when powered-up, the whole unit -I mean, each section- defaults to being ON.
At the end of a few weeks of using it both live and in the studio, I found myself craving more options, or wishing I had just gotten an OMG pedal. To me, the unit doesn’t offer much that I don’t already have, and it’s tiny footprint (while impressive) isn’t enough of a perk to replace anything I already have.
I asked Tech 21 if the FlyRig could be modded with extra jacks (I was really interested in a send/return, perhaps on a single stereo jack), and was told that they couldn’t imagine such an option. In my experience, manufacturers are rarely imaginative in this regard.
Maybe someone else will mod their FlyRig, and I’ll revisit the option. Until then, I’d rather use something a little larger, quieter, and better-appointed
Pros: Compact, great amp-sim and gain stages.
Cons: Reverb isn’t switchable, delay is limited and noisy. Power supply is distressingly cheapo.
I grew up with an unapologetic worship of Jimmy Page and Led Zeppelin, and as such, was dead-set on becoming a Gibson Les Paul / Humbuckers / Marshall guy.
The shred-era exploded while I was high school, and “super-strats” with pointy headstocks ruled the day. I got a non-pointy, affordable model with a locking tremolo, and contented myself with whatever amp I could use at the time. Even back then, Les Pauls were hard to afford, and seeing them with tremolo just looked weird.
King’s X invaded my world in the late 80′s, and I heard Ty Tabor getting incredibly heavy, yet articulate tones out of his Strat. While I had already landed on doing volume-swells with a volume pedal, I really appreciated how he was doing them all with the Strat’s volume knob.
Somewhere around then, I also really started to crave the classic sound of a Strat. I knew nothing about them, really. I bought one in complete ignorance, brand new off the shelf, and got VERY lucky to have gotten one that sounded so good (it’s a Mexican model). To this day, it’s the guitar with which I have been seen (and photographed) the most. It took a while to adjust my playing style to single coils, but no matter what other guitar I try, that Strat is what works best for me on stage.
My studio go-to guitars are a Mexican Telecaster and an Electra Invicta from about 1980. I even have a real Gibson Les Paul that I tried to use live for years, and I finally got a Jazzmaster about 2 years ago (wanted one for years, but that’s another story). For me, on stage, it’s almost always a Strat that makes it happen.