Up for grabs here is a very tasty Ibanez JS100. You find this guitar in the lovely Transparent Red finish. It’s in good shape – plays really well and sounds lush! You’ve got the fantastic Edge III tremolo system for all of those dive-bombs and artificial harmonic squeals, and also Joe’s name inlaid into the fretboard at the 21st fret.

Mr. Satriani is well known for his fantastic tone, and also the versatility of the instrument he’s designed that we’re discussing now. A core part of the flexibility of this instrument is in the ‘push-pull’ tone control. This opens you up to a range of single coil type sounds not unlike the configuration on a telecaster. That’s right, not only can you get searing lead lines, but glorious twang too!

In my view this guitar is an excellent buy, and great value for money – you’ll get a lot of mileage out this guitar! £399 is the price…let us know where we need to send it!

1. A beautiful, healthy family
2. My new guitar (Fender Telecaster)
3. New friendships
4. The house we live in
5. Crossroads Christian Church
6. Lots of coffee
7. Expanding collection of vinyl
8. AVOIDING A ZOMBIE INVASION
9. My car is still running well
10. Having a job that I love

They sure don’t make ‘em like they used to. All point to point hand-wired, hand-crafted, and aesthetically far superior. No computer chips, just hot glowing vacuum tubes (don’t even get me started on non tube guitar amps). Tubes forever!

When I woke up, I immediately flipped open my antiquated  workstation from where I lay in bed. It sprang to life with renewed vigor, a needlessly complex reformatting was still treating the Z-140x as well as one would expect within the first week. All that mattered was that I could access a network again, and within seconds I was connecting to the Magnate family’s portal. Though Allan and Rikka’s terminals were silent, and Ploki was still asleep, his porti was downloading a large file, so there was a little latency in the sphere.

After sliding through the various social webs I keep a profile in, checking my multiple inboxes and even the dashboard control panel for this tlog, finding no new messages in each, I hovered purposelessly in the internet for a few moments, idly rapping my fingertips on the case of the computer. I’d hoped by then I would have at least received word back from Olympus Coast College about my application or student financial aid. Not knowing what else to do, I brought up a window from an interplanetary newsource, probably based on Earth. The stark headlines it launched at me in grim menacing boldface startled me at first.

– [FLU DEATH TOLLS IN THE UNITED TERRITORIES ESTIMATED AT 3,900] –

– [NEPTUNIAN PIRATES FAIL TO CAPTURE IONIAN CARGOSHIP SECOND TIME] –

– [TIPS TO SURVIVE BLACK FRIDAY AND SHOPPING BATTLEGROUNDS THIS HOLIDAY SEASON] –

Suddenly concerned for my health, and worried that all those months of not worrying weren’t going to pay off, I thumbed over the article. I truly detest the tricks these fear mongering, ad-savvy newsources use to optimize search results to generate some more hits each day. The report is contrary to the one just a couple of days ago which calculated deaths to be closer to 130, so I just figured they wanted to claim that all of the regular annual flu deaths had been attributed to the H1N1 virus. I closed the window before I could see how many of those confirmed deaths were on Mars, lest I become a victim of the pharmaceutical industry’s scare tactics.

The next window informed me pirates had been thwarted in their attempt to gain control of a ship leaving the orbit of Galatea. Either by coincidence or the attractiveness of the damn thing, it was the same ship hijacked last spring near those same waters. These marauders from the sixth moon of Neptune have reportedly captured over 50 vessels, and seemed to have a pretty good reputation until the Euxine Carolina was rescued by UT marines earlier this year. This time, the enhanced security placed onboard the hundred-ton spacefreighter was able to resolve any issue before it even developed into one.

I didn’t care about holiday bloodbaths or a house with a bunch of dead people in it. I couldn’t be compelled to look too deep into the stories reported by the Ganymedean newsource or an associated feed I’d brought up in the background while I digested these either. I really didn’t care about Earth’s prison camp or the election being gorked up on Ceres, or any of the other news they don‘t often openly address in Earth media. I’m usually enthralled with that sort of stuff.

I brought SpaceBook, my main social network, back into focus and updated my status to something disparaging to human nature for letting the media get so commercial, and closed my clunky old porti.

As if stirred by a ripple in a pond, Ploki Magnate rolled over in his bed. As he rested, he’d probably been able to sense so many similar, relatively tiny waves just and slept right through it. But a rock being thrown into the pond from so close may have felt like a surge against the barriers of his constant digital stream. He sat up, rubbing the side of is head.

“Oh, good morning, Ploki,” I said, realizing I hadn’t actually spoken a word to anyone when my voice cracked. The name already sounded a little strange to the tongue since it was a throwback to old hacker slang from days when a keyboard similar mine would still have been used. It was the handle that he chose to go by in all of his social avenues, virtual or not.

“Morning,” he said, not looking up from the glow of the button already alight in his hands. It illuminated his sharp face and the accentuated Ganymedean features. If he had antennae or pointy ears I would have seen them in the wash of blue light, but his head was framed only by a short haircut and a little scruff of beard.  “What’s this about the news?” he asked me, responding to the notification that woke him.

“Huh? Oh, well ther-” I began before he cut me off, he’d obviously brought up the headlines.

“Pirates…prison camp…experiment demonstrates possibility of life in Centauri?” he read aloud, a questioning tone as he wondered if he’d already heard that somewhere.

I was rising off my futon bed and walking as I replied. “I think that whole thing’s a ruse to get more scientific funding for exploration,” I grumbled as I stepped into the kitchen to scrounge up something.

“So it’s better we don’t find life outside the Solar system? You’re so cynical, Klay.” He was beginning to wake and warm up, getting out of bed only to settle into his computer chair.

I spoke to him over the kitchen counter, his workstation setup just on the other side. Anyone who used this kitchen couldn’t help but feel watched if he was seated there, though his eyes hardly rose from his screen. “No, I just think it’s going to be a huge bust if it turns out we went all the way there again and didn’t find anything … again,” there was little I came across in the fridge that screamed edible to me.

“Well it won’t be any bigger of a waste than if that money went to the defense budget,” his sleek porti connected to the portal the second he touched it, and in moments he was tangled in his various webs. “They got something like 700 bil for the military, just for a single year. That calculates to almost 2 billion a day.”

“Gork,” I exclaimed, slamming an unyielding cupboard. “Nothing’s looking appealing to me in here, wanna start the vaporizer?”

He glanced at the time and yelled “Fire it up!”

«←→»

Hunger was of the few things that could involuntarily force someone out into the big, scary world; and even then there are the options of fast food, take-out and delivery services to minimize a given human’s exposure to the outside as much as possible.

Ploki and I trod along the broad walkways of Newport’s Style Isle. Fashioned by The Caspian Company after a cookie-cutter Ionian Mission, it was a way to disguise their corporate headquarters as an outdoor shopping mall and gain a little extra revenue. It’s not actually an island, just a small mesa overlooking the Amazonian Ocean, and was used by natives in the past for their jamborees. Glancing back over my shoulder, I could see it twinkling like a thousand diamonds in the midday light, beyond the rows of fancy crawlers, oily parking spaces and pristine, artificial palm trees.

I used to work here. Tucked away in the digital media section of Style Isle’s outdated bookstore, I toiled the first year I lived on Mars. The commute to Newport from Fender was treacherous at the least, a whole 30 minutes. It was enough to make the job feel not worth it to me, spending the entirety of my only raise on the fuel it took just to get to work late every day.

We wove amongst the flow of shoppers, consisting mostly of wealthy women who didn’t need to be making any more money. It always felt a little strange, walking amongst the same people I used to serve, calmly passing them decked out in their most splendid weekday attire. From the hottest trends off the runways in Mihr Patera to soft velour sweat suits encrusted in rhinestones. Large embellished sunglasses, gaudy jewelry and any number of insanely eye-catching accessories glinted and dangled in the red sun.

Anything they could afford to distract or cover up the seams between cosmetic surgery and plastic treatments. Neck-tucks and antenna-removal scars can still be tricky to hide, and that’s where expensive bronze and ivory make-up assisted. They perfectly mimicked the exemplary mannequins, stiff in the windows beside them but so posh. I cringed to think what these reptiles would look like without any mods.

Just a few minutes there and I’d already seen  too many aged women showing off their new breasts and arms, many of which still needed some tightening and laser treatments to erase the damage of decades of sun exposure. Gray roots hid under platinum blonde, deep crows feet under cakes of eye shadow, and I’m sure I would have noticed the stench of death if it weren’t for the aroma of nail polish and hair products. I just wanted to find the cheapest place to grab a bite, then get the hell out of this commercial trap.

“I’m so excited for my appointment next week!” Ploki said, grinning ear to ear. “I’m going to get my license, and then my new toy will be completely legitimate,” there was so much glee behind his eyes as he said this.

“I just hopes it work’s out for you, it would suck if you were denied cause you didn’t qualify,” I pointed out, though that would be just as upsetting to all of us.

“Seriously,” he replied and winced with his blue eyes, tryinag not to imagine that possibility.

I turned to my Martian friend as we rounded a corner near the geyser fountain. “Hey, Ploki, can you look something up for me real quick?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, slid his button out of his pocket and unlocked the palm-held device. The flat, blue screen lit up in broad daylight, appearing a few inches above his hand.  It rested on a faint laser cone, projected from the solitary LED eye; simplicity was the only identifying feature of an AM-3Gi button. He called up a search application, and looked at me, asking “What do you need?”

“Gork, that was fast. Don’t you still have to connect to a network with that thing?”

“No, I canceled that basic service that came with it.” He pointed to his temple with his free hand, saying “I’ve been auged.”

“Ahh, now it makes sense, you are your own sphere,” I looked at him again as if I’d be able to see it’s sheen around him now. “That’s astro, I’d love to get a chip one day,” I said quietly.

The cyborg’s eyes locked on me in disbelief. “What? You haven’t been auged?” the question rang loud here, even outside. Any sort of alterations, whether internal or external, are regarded highly by those of status, and I’m sure any of the women who could afford a boost in confidence could pay an extra few thousand to have a little silicon implanted in their heads, too.

I looked around at no scowling faces or judging eyes, surprisingly. “No, what makes you think I have?”

“I totally thought you were. You don’t have extra memory in there?” he asked, genuinely amazed I hadn’t undergone any sort of capacity upgrade.

“No, not at all,” I said with as little pride as I could show these technophilic Newpsies.

“Huh, I could have sworn. Hmm…well I guess you just have a good memory then,” he said, adjusting to the idea of my head being emptier than his.

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment…especially coming from a machine,” I said facetiously.

He protested “Hey, I’m still mostly human!”

“Whatevs, Robot. Find me the cheapest food around,” I commanded.

He grumbled, and returned his gaze to the screen, manipulating the flattened beam that the browser was illustrated upon with the swish of his fingertips. He looked up, over to the other side of the food court we had just meandered into. “There. The pizza place has the lowest cost here,” he said at once.

“Wow, you found it that quick?” I said, astounded by his technology again.

“No, I just remembered,” he said with a grin, adding “Gorker.”

After we finished our two-dollar slices of pizza pie, and made our way back through the mess of grotesque human facsimiles, we found ourselves at his little, cerulean crawler. The two-door hatchback always reminded me of my elusive vehicle, though his wasn’t built on Ganymede.

His Saturnian-made Polaris was probably of a finer construction than my rodent. The interior had been optimized for comfort and visibility, so much so that even the HUD cowling had been displaced to the center of the dashboard, creating more storage areas.

At the press of the ignition switch, the engine whined and instruments illuminated with bright blue light, similar to the glow of the Ploki’s button, which now rested in a crèche on the center console. It supplied music from it’s harddrive to the entertainment system, and the driver or passenger could easily control media with the interface on either end.

We hurried home, where Allan waited for our return. He’d sequestered himself into his room, determined to make full use of his burgeoning class-load by doing everything he could to pass them all. Little had been seen of him, except when he needed transit to and from campus, or when there was a bi-weekly jam, or if Nymh had come over to lure him out, though she just as often did nothing to make him want to leave the room.

Similar could be said of the youngest of the Magnate siblings. Rikka was often out of the house since she was usually working one of her two jobs, and only appeared in sharp, semi-formal outfits when she was home from either, or on her way to an interview for a third. Attention seeking and a hypochondriac, she was currently fighting a bout with the deadly flu upstairs in her quarters, and no one could tell if she were actually sick or not.

I’d become good friends with Ploki over the previous weeks, finding similar interests was easy for us; or something like that. It could have been something to do with being the same age as me, or that he was easier to tolerate for an entire day than his often boisterous older brother. Perhaps it was because we had planned to move to that ski resort in Cyane this winter and had begun pre-roommate rituals of bonding. But it’s probably just because we both share the ground level of the house, he and I sleeping in the living room and family room, respectively.

We arrived back at his house in the mid-afternoon and immediately return to our positions in front of our workstations. Using some sort of control on his terminal, he remotely activated his brand new vaporizer, allowing it to warm up the 600 seconds so it will work properly. He then sent a message through the sphere to let Allan know he’d have about ten minutes to find a stopping point.

By force of habit, I brought up the newsources again with my renewed net connection, feeling warm with this novelty: the privilege of fresh information afforded only to those who have the technological means. By the look of the new banners, it seems healthcare reforms were stagnated by both sides of UT government, Earth’s new president visited Titan, and strife continued between warring factions on little Davidia.

A terrorist plot on another Earth skyscraper was foiled, a fusion plant in New Ganymede almost meltdown again and AM would probably release a new model of the button over the holidays. Students protested an increase in tuition rates at University of Mars campuses, a ferry crash in The Rings left 26 dead and the sequel to that stupid teenage-heartthrob-vampire movie broke box office records this weekend.

I closed all the windows at once and brought up one of my bookmarked links: a streaming, real-time image of the star Sol. I zoomed in partway, only until I spotted the well recognizable shapes of the gas giants, the thin haze of asteroid belts and the glint off the terrestrial worlds orbiting close the yellow main-sequence star. If it weren’t for a ticker running the time at the bottom you would have sworn it was just a still image, captured by a traveler from some rocket’s window.

I attempted to imagine for a moment that I was peering out of that porthole at the static but majestic view. I tried to picture myself away from any apprehensions of holidays, pirates, finances or vaccinations. It wasn’t working.

I collapsed the screen of the outdated porti. “Hey Ploki,” I called as I stood up, “I’m getting Allan whether that machine of yours is ready or not.”

]]> http://ponderosapine.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/billy-carson/ Wed, 25 Nov 2009 21:28:37 +0000 ponderosapine http://ponderosapine.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/billy-carson/

Dubbed “The test pilot of the Stratocaster,” Western swing legend Bill Carson was the guitarist for whom Leo Fender first created the six-string that would later define the sound of rock & roll. Born July 8, 1926, in Meridian, OK, Carson grew up in his grandparents’ Amarillo, TX, home. He first played the pump organ before acquiring an $11 guitar from the Sears and Roebuck catalog at age 11. In the years following World War II, Carson was a fixture of the local dancehall circuit, and circa 1948 he relocated to Los Angeles, playing in support of Western swing pioneers including Lefty Frizzell, Hank Thompson, and Spade Cooley. In 1951 he visited Fender’s Fullerton, CA, factory in search of a Telecaster electric guitar and amplifier. Fender not only obliged, but also convinced Carson to sign on as a part-time assembly worker and field tester. From that point forward Carson regularly played Fender prototypes during his gigs, suggesting a series of groundbreaking design elements and refinements. Famously telling Fender a guitar should fit the human body “like a well-tailored shirt,” he was instrumental in determining the contours that in 1954 resulted in the classic “cutaway” shape of the original Stratocaster. Carson’s official endorsement of the Strat was also vital in legitimizing the new instrument. In one famous advertisement, he stands in full cowboy regalia with the guitar slung over his shoulder, with an inset reading “Billy Carson Uses Fender Fine Electric Instruments Exclusively.” The likes of Jimi Hendrix, Buddy Holly, and Eric Clapton were among the myriad Stratocaster disciples to follow in his wake. Carson joined the Fender staff full-time in 1957, working as guitar supervisor and plant manager. A decade later, he was appointed to head the company’s Nashville office, and later spearheaded sales and marketing initiatives as well. In 1990, Carson achieved a different kind of notoriety when he cultivated a record-setting watermelon weighing in at 262 pounds, a Guinness Book of World Records mark that stood for 16 years. He also published a memoir, Bill Carson: My Life and Times with Fender Musical Instruments, and in 2006 his own 1959 Fiesta Red Stratocaster sold for a staggering $66,000 at auction. Carson died February 15, 2007, at the age of 80. ~ Jason Ankeny, All Music Guide

This is the first review of Battle Studies to say what I’ve been thinking. JM’s my hero and he probably always will be, but even I can draw some interesting parallels between him and Clapton. There’s nothing wrong with this, obviously, I’m just saying that he seems to be taking all of his cues, whether intentionally or not, from him.

John Mayer is obviously going through a “Backless” phase. In 1979, Eric Clapton released an album called “Backless” which shifted him from the guitar hero (“God,” if you will) to the more laidback singer/songwriter, causing a universal frown from six-string enthusiasts everywhere. With the release of “Battle Studies,” Mayer treads a similar path with a collection of songs that focus on melody over fretwork.

If the thought of a more pop-oriented angle leaves a bad taste in your mouth, this probably isn’t the Mayer album for you. One foot is firmly planted in the adult contemporary genre, especially when pop princess Taylor Swift provides background vocals on “Half of My Heart.” It’s not a bad song by any means, just a bit light for a young guy that’s played alongside artists like B.B. King and Slowhand himself.

Full Article

El modelo Iceman fue creado por Ibanez allá por los años 60-70. En aquella época el reinado de Fender y Gibson se vió amenazado por la oleada de guitarras japonesas que hacían copias de los modelos más famosos de las marcas citadas. Fue entonces cuando las empresas norteamericanas decidieron demandar a la japonesa Hoshino Gakki (empresa madre de Ibanez y Tama) y se vio forzada a cambiar sus diseños. Uno de los resultados de estos cambios en los diseños fue el modelo Iceman.

Este cuerpo se caracteriza por su agresiva forma y ligero peso. Hoy en día se construyen una gran variedad de modelos Iceman, tanto guitarras como bajos. Sobre éstos bajos cabe decir que hay una descompensación entre el peso del cuerpo y del mastil, de manera que éste último es más pesado que el cuerpo y hace que el instrumento se gire, lo cual hace que sea bastante incómodo de tocar (algunos usuarios de guitarras con forma SG sabrán a lo que me refiero). Personalmente no recomiendo los modelos Iceman en bajo a no ser que sea el modelo signature del bajista de Arch Enemy, Sharlee D’Angelo, cuyo Iceman tiene este problema arreglado.

Uno de los modelos más nuevos del bajo Iceman de Ibanez

Paul Stanley (guitarrista de la famosa banda de rock Kiss) fue uno de los primeros artistas con renombre en usar el modelo, y fue en parte gracias a él que las guitarras Iceman consiguieran la fama que tuvieron y tienen hoy en día. Pero ha habido otros guitarristas que han hecho de la Iceman su instrumento favorito como por ejemplo Daron Malakian de System of a Down.

EMI Label Services/Caroline Distribution are working hand in hand with independent record stores to invoke a great rock tradition: a BATTLE OF THE BANDS amongst local high-school groups across the nation.

The “winning” band as chosen by each local store will have the chance to have a song included on a compilation that will be released on Record Store Day (April 17, 2010).

As stated by Dominic Pandiscia, SVP/GM EMI Label Services and Caroline Distribution, “The Battle of the Bands campaign reinforces the record store as a key hub of activity for students. We’re incredibly excited to work with all associated partners to nurture local music talent, while creating exciting events at local independent stores.”

Michael Kurtz, co-founder of Record Store Day, a celebration of independent record stores, saw this as a great opportunity to get the local community involved.

The compilation of winners will be released on Record Store Day and the winning band from each market will be invited to perform in-store

The winning band, to be selected by Merovingian Music President Jack Ponti and Fender Director of Entertainment Marketing Del Breckenfeld, will be outfitted with Fender equipment, including a Fender Road Worn‚ ’50s Strat , a Fender Road Worn ’50s Precision Bass, a Fender California Series Kingman‚ SCE Electric Acoustic Fender Super-Sonic‚ Amp; a Fender Bassman Fifteen Bass Amp; a Gretsch Blackhawk‚ Drum Kit, Sabian Cymbals and Gibraltar Drum Hardware.

The winning band will also have studio time with legendary producer/musician/manager/ songwriter Jack Ponti (Bon Jovi, Alice Cooper, India.Arie, Aiden, Boyz II Men).

Url: http://www.recordstoreday.com

I’m currently on drink 5. You know, that drink that takes you from “cunning ladykiller” to “your funny friend.”

A supporter in Seoul, Korea

We ask for your solidarity and creative actions.

This is about the people who made one third of the guitars being circulated worldwide but didn’t own any. Do the names Fender, Ibanez, Avalon, or Parkwood sound familiar to you?

Their factory was unventilated and had no windows in the name of ‘high productivity.’ They worked without a break, like hens in cages, and eventually became ill and injured. Some workers lost their fingers in the sawing machines, others suffered from chronic muscle and bone related diseases caused by the sanding and grinding process with only a facemask against the dust. Most of them contracted bronchitis or asthma caused by working in the unventilated paint rooms full of solvents. They worked overtime without being paid for all those hours, arriving early and leaving late, some even collapsing at the factory and then asked to sign resignation papers by their boss while they lay in their hospital beds.

Nevertheless, these Korean workers were happy whenever they saw the gleaming guitars inlaid with mother of pearl, produced by their own hands and exported to countries around the world. They worked hard, day and night, for ten to twenty years with pride. Finally, after establishing their labor union in 2006, they raised their wage to the highest level in 12 years, but the raise only brought them near the minimum wage of Korea.

Meanwhile, Park Young Ho, the CEO of Cor-tek, has built up a fortune of $78Million dollars during this period, at the expense of the workers’ labor.

As of now, he ranks 125th among the richest men in the world. After establishing his new factory in China in 1997, he gradually reduced the production lines in Korea and shifted them abroad. That was the planned scheme, which he did not disclose to his workers. Furthermore, on April 2007, he laid off 56 factory workers in Incheon, Korea, secretly closed the business of  the Daejeon, Korea, factory and laid off the remaining 67 workers three months later. In protest against the company’s secretive and illegal restructuring policy, Lee Dong Ho, one of the workers, protested by burning himself on December 2007. But Park didn’t care about the life of his worker, and also closed the business of Incheon factory on August 2008, claiming a sham bankruptcy. With nowhere else to go, the illegally fired workers have protested by protecting and occupying the closed factory since then.

Last year, they protested with hunger strike on the high electricity tower at Seoul’s riverside for a month. They tried to squat in the head office of Cort but all were arrested by specially trained police officers soon after.  Perhaps guitars with the brand name of Fender, Ibanez, Cort, or Parkwood were playing a song of love somewhere around the world at the moment when the workers were being dragged to the police office like dogs.

Now, maybe the melody can sound like, “Let’s join hands in solidarity,” and “We have to stand together.” The workers are terribly afraid of this current period of negligence and severe hardship. They fear the indifference and estrangement from the people who should care the most.

Fortunately, many Koreans artists, musicians, and those who belonged to art and cultural organizations have supported the workers’ cause, putting on public concerts, photo exhibits, and making documentaries. In the spring, German labor activists, artists and musicians did likewise at Musikmesse 2009, a global music instrument convention. Just this past November, a broad coalition of musicians, labor activists, media activists and ordinary citizens in Japan also supported the workers in Tokyo and Yokohama, at the Yokohama Music Fair.

We appeal to you to act creatively to publicize the injustice of the Cort Guitar company. NEXT STOP: USA (Los Angeles and Anaheim, California): January 8- 17, 2010. Stay tuned on this blog for more information.

Hear and read the workers’ stories directly at this link.

Welcome to Boyd’s Guitar Warehouse, the one stop electric guitar parts shop.  We are an Ebay Store that focuses only on selling used electric guitar parts and the lowest prices on Ebay.  Our main focus is on the major brand guitars such as Fender, Gibson, Ibanez, Jackson, ESP, and Epiphone.  We sell all parts from bodies, necks, bridges, electronics, pickups, tuning pegs, locking nuts, and neck screws.

We strarted our business November of 2008 as a part time business.  After seeing the high interest of people  upgrading and building custom electric guitars we started talking about running our business full time and quit our jobs.  Within a week after my wife and I had that discussion I was laid off from my mechanical engineer job without any severence package.  So we decided to go full time into our Ebay business and thought this was our best choice.  This is when we launched our Ebay Store Boyd’s Guitar Warehouse end of January 2009.

Since our decision my wife and I have sold thousands of guitar parts all over the world.  We are selling around 400 guitar parts every month and couldn’t be happier with the decision of helping guitarist achieve their goals of finding that tone or building that guitar that they have always wanted.  We look forward to serving you and your friends on your next order.

Thanks,
Brandon Boyd
Boyd’s Guitar Warehouse

The tweed Fender Champ is a 5 Watt Class A amplifier.  What exactly does it mean when an amp is called Class A?  Class A amplifiers operate over the entire input cycle.  This means that the output signal is an exact scaled-up replica of the input with no clipping.  From an exhaustive discussion of various amplifier classifications over on Wikipedia -

Class A amplifying devices operate over the whole of the input cycle such that the output signal is an exact scaled-up replica of the input with no clipping. Class A amplifiers are the usual means of implementing small-signal amplifiers. They are not very efficient; a theoretical maximum of 50% is obtainable with inductive output coupling and only 25% with capacitive coupling.

In a Class A circuit, the amplifying element is biased so the device is always conducting to some extent, and is operated over the most linear portion of its characteristic curve (known as its transfer characteristic or transconductance curve). Because the device is always conducting, even if there is no input at all, power is drawn from the power supply. This is the chief reason for its inefficiency.

If high output powers are needed from a Class A circuit, the power waste (and the accompanying heat) will become significant. For every wattdelivered to the load, the amplifier itself will, at best, dissipate another watt. For large powers this means very large and expensive power supplies and heat sinking. Class A designs have largely been superseded for audio amplifiers, though some audiophiles believe that Class A gives the best sound quality, due to it being operated in as linear a manner as possible which provides a small market for expensive high fidelity Class A amps. Many recording studios use equipment such as preamplifiers that are considered Class A designs. In addition, some aficionados prefer thermionic valve (or “tube”) designs instead of transistors, for several claimed reasons:

• Tubes are more commonly used in class A designs, which have an asymmetrical transfer function. This means that distortion of a sine wave creates both odd- and even-numbered harmonics. The claim is that this sounds more “musical” than the higher level of odd harmonics produced by a symmetrical push–pull amplifier.^[7][8]
• Though good amplifier design can reduce harmonic distortion patterns to almost nothing, distortion is essential to the sound of electric guitar amplifiers, for example, and is held by recording engineers to offer more flattering microphones and to enhance “clinical-sounding” digital technology.
• Valves use many more electrons at once than a transistor, and so statistical effects lead to a “smoother” approximation of the true waveform — see shot noise for more on this. Junction field-effect transistors (JFETs) have similar characteristics to valves, so these are found more often in high quality amplifiers than bipolar transistors. Historically, valve amplifiers often used a Class A power amplifier simply because valves are large and expensive; many Class A designs use only a single device.

Transistors are much cheaper, and so more elaborate designs that give greater efficiency but use more parts are still cost-effective. A classic application for a pair of class A devices is the long-tailed pair, which is exceptionally linear, and forms the basis of many more complex circuits, including many audio amplifiers and almost all op-amps. Class A amplifiers are often used in output stages of op-amps; they are sometimes used as medium-power, low-efficiency, and high-cost audio amplifiers. The power consumption is unrelated to the output power. At idle (no input), the power consumption is essentially the same as at high output volume. The result is low efficiency and high heat dissipation.

1959 Fender Tweed Champ

A selection of some of my favorite experiments from the New Model Army show last month. I love the lighting at Radio Radio… its moody technicolor really suits the “pretty blurry” style I am developing.

I’ve been playing the bass for about 25 years now, and I love the instrument as much today as I when I first heard it.  I remember it fondly, and I have to say that I’m always flooded by that memory whenever I pick up my axe.

I’ve been involved in music since I was a kid.  Music was something that was a constant presence in my home as a child.  Either the radio or a record of Latin, Jazz , and some Rock could be heard from our home.  In retrospect, it really was a kind of magical time in my life.

My younger brother and I started playing the “drums.”  In other words, we’d bang, stomp and beat anything we could find in the house.  It could be pots, pans, the floor, the walls; literally anything that had a nice sound to it.  Eventually, we graduated to drums, bongos, and a djembe.  I always tended to play in the lower registers.  I liked the thump and bass of congas or the deep growl of the Cajon, a type of drum derived from a box or crate.  However, my brother excelled where I would simply play along, and I wanted to be a bit more involved.

I had always loved the sound of the bass guitar, but the connection between my heart and my hands didn’t happen until my cousin took me to a Motown Revue concert when I was 14.  This wasn’t a bona-fide Motown Revue, those ended in the 50’s and 60’s.  This was more a tribute band with a few of the old stars.  But the stage band was absolutely excellent.  The horns, the drums, the keyboards created an atmosphere that felt like you where inside the record player.  But what stood out was this one cat, the bass player.

I can’t remember his name, but I remember his playing and his axe, a vintage Fender bass, as he thumped out bass line after beautiful bass line from legendary players like James Jamerson and Carol Kaye.  I also remembered his playing style, holding the bass close to his body, syncing into the beat and the melody as he explored the low end.  I was hypnotized by what the bass was, and what it could mean, to me, and to the music I wanted to make.

The next day, the only thing in my mind was getting my hands on a Fender Precision bass and an amp.  What’s funny is that my desire to play bass taught me the value of hard work.  I got my very first part time job in a garage, working as many hours as I could, and I saved every penny until I could afford to pay for the bass of my dreams.  By the end of summer, I had enough to see the local instrument shop’s offerings.  Of course, I couldn’t afford something as beautiful as I saw the Revue musician playing, but that didn’t deter me.  You see, the desire for the bass also taught me how to negotiate.  I got my first bass, a respectable P-Bass, and a decent amp for all of the 800 dollars I had saved all summer.  Believe me, that shop owner was more than happy to have me OUT of his store.

I ran home with my new axe.  My feelings where quite mixed, but in a very pleasant way.  I was excited and nervous, but also a deep sense of satisfaction.  Opening up the case and plugging in my amp, I remember hearing the first buzz of the speakers, the crackle of the plug going into its socket, and the first droning harmonics of the bass strings as the magnetic pull of the pickups first stirred them to life.  There I was, with a bass in my hands, with only a few guitar lessons in my pocket, and I hit that first note.  It should probably be the first note all new young bass players should play; an open E.  The first bass string in the low range, with no fretting, just..open.

This is the memory that floods my mind and my heart every time I pick up my bass, and I hit that open E every single time, remembering what it was to first play music on your own.   How can you ever forget that?

La empresa upLark anuncio que sacará una figura de Mio el traje de camarera (maid) del ya epico concierto del festiva escolar.
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Del recordado concierto con la caída de Mio y el tazón rayado de arroz^^, aquí Mio utiliza el traje de Maid que Sawako Sensei les diera

Viene consigo su bajo Fender Jazz de 3 Colores, buen detalle que incluye las cuerdas

La figura incluirá dos caras de Mio como pueden apreciar

La figura saldrá llegara a las tiendas en Marzo del 2010 a un precio de 8190 yen

Over the past eight years, I have barely touched an electric guitar. It has probably been since my junior year in high school that I really played an electric much. It’s much easier to lead worship and play a rhythm instrument than a lead instrument.
Now that I have the Telecaster, I have not only re-kindled my desire to play electric. It’s opened up new musical interests (including The Who and Eric Clapton), and has broadened my ability as a musician. Plus, I play way more in my free-time that I have for quite some time.
Who would have thought that this acoustic loving man would start favoring his electric? It’s great.

“Hi, would you like one?”  I looked up through my sleepy haze to see a middle aged lady and a guy with a video camera.  The lady was holding out a red book that looked like some kind of bible.

“Uh, sure, thanks,” I said, hoping fervently that whatever the footage the guy was getting would never be shown to anyone, ever.  Unless it was to highlight my stellar impersonation of a zombie.

“Enjoy your day!” the lady called as I walked away.  After a moment the cover of the book came into focus.  It was The Origin of Species.  Very much not the bible.  I still have no idea what it had to do with anything.

Speaking of non sequiturs, here’s some cool stuff I’ve found around the Internet lately.

• Calvinball, the band.  With a name like that, they have to be good.  They are too.  They did an interview with Punknews.org about their latest album Live fast, Go to Bed Early.  It’s a mixture of oi punk and hardcore, but at the same time it’s very melodic.  They recorded it live over two days in true punk style.  When you can make out the words it’s really fun to sing-shout along.
• An article in the LA Times about the Fender manufacturing plant in Corona, CA.  They have eight master builders who will wind the wire around the pickups by hand if you ask them to.  They’re so faithful about reproductions they’ll even put in toothmarks.  (I don’t want to know either).  Then, at the very end, they give each guitar to a musician who plays every single note looking for a flaw.  Call me a pushover, but I love stories about companies who really care what happens with their products beyond shoveling them out the door to make money.
• I forgot how much I love this song.  It’s “Into the Dark” by the Juliana Theory.  The chorus gets me every time, and the whole thing is hauntingly beautiful.  It’s good for really frustrated moments, because then it becomes sort of uplifting.

Off to class…maybe this time they’ll be handing out cupcakes.  Less subversive than evolution, but more tasty.  One can only hope.

After some elbow grease and a little bit of tweaking, I got my new amp up and running.  It’s from 1973, and it can growl.

So much for my Acoustasonic. I spoke with the store I purchased it from, and where I bought an extended service warranty for it (where they will pay for repairs), and apparently whatever is wrong is more expensive for them to fix than the amp is worth. My options are to trade the amp in and get something else, or the group that underwrote the warranty will issue me a check for the full amount – basically I’d get a full refund for the purchase price. Good deal gone bad I suppose. But, o well. I could always choose to pay for the repairs myself, but I’m not in love with the thing, so that’s not an option. Who knows what will become of it. Maybe the guys that are working on it will fix it and sell it from their store. Back to square one for finding an amp, though. Most of the ones I looked at were at or over $400. Can’t really afford that now. Maybe I’ll get another acoustic guitar. It’d be nice to have two, one in standard tuning and the other for the open tunings.

Ich hatte bei meinem Schwiegervater Peter noch etwas Khaya Ivorensis (afrikanisches Mahagoni) rumliegen, das wir für den Body einer Gitarre benutzt hatten (eine andere Story). Irgendwie verursachte das Holz bei mir einen unnachgiebigen Drang nach einem “selbstgebauten” Instrument.

Im Herbst 2003 hielt ich’s nicht mehr aus, und beauftragte Peter damit, mir aus dem Khaya einen Precision-Body auszusägen. Dann bestellte ich die restlichen Bauteile bei Rockinger in Hannover.

Mir schwebte eine Kreuzung eines Precision-Korpus, eines Jazz-Halses, eines Stingray-Humbuckers und passiver Elektronik vor.

Der ungebeizte und unlackierte Korpus sah so aus:

Den Kanal für die Erdung auf der Vorderseite und den Deckel fürs Elektronikfach stellte Peter aus Wenge her.

So sieht mein P-Man in fertigem Zustand aus:

Der Korpus ist gebeizt und lackiert (danke, Peter), während ich den Hals nur mit Öl und Wachs behandelt habe.

Ursprünglich hatte der P-Man keine Kontur für den rechten Unterarm – weil ich’s so sexy fand – nach einigen Monaten musste ich dann aber doch eine Kontur einfügen, weil mein Handgelenk die harte Kante nicht so gut vertrug.

Die Mechaniken sind vom deutschen Hersteller Schaller:

Der Sattel ist ein Graphit-Kunstoff-Gemisch aus dem Hause Graphtech, während die Brücke im Vintage-Stil wohl von Gotoh ist:

Der P-Man spielt sich sehr gut und klingt astrein. Der Mahagonikorpus und der fette Humbucker erzeugen einen ganz eigenen holzigen Charakter in den Mitten.

Ich spiele den P-Man zum Beispiel auf Nothing to Fear.

I do not know anything of how wordpress works, I’m sure as time progresses I will become more adept in its use. Either way, what you should expect from me is random ideas, articles on music, gear, whatever I’m feeling during the day at work or at home in the comfort of my new bad ass bed.

Kristin’s away on business and we still don’t have a television. That’s a recipe for disaster, since my sleep patterns go all out of whack when she’s away. Normally, I’d fire up a video game, but that’s not happening. So, I grabbed my guitar instead. I should really play this thing more.