Sound Recording and Guitar

The oft-neglected equalizer is the secret of tone. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen friends, journalists and reviewers talk about finding tone with a specific stompbox, amp, or other signal processor. Once the signal has left your guitar the first thing you ought to do is equalize it for the environment, be it recording or performing. EQ is the first thing that should happen to a guitar signal and also the last (if you want) to take care of unforeseen frequency introductions along the signal chain – also to manage the acoustics of the environment.

In recording mixes EQ is what will sort out your takes and make them sound great. Mid-scooping for metal rhythms, mid-boosting for lead breaks, and cutting annoying ‘not quite right’ resonances. Quite frankly I’m amazed that EQ is not talked about more, until I think, “Cui bono”. Who benefits?

All the businesses that sell magic-tone-oil devices benefit from the market ignoring EQ. It’s a cheap (enough) way to alter your tone to get what you find the sweet spot. Even 31-band parametric EQ’s can be had for under $300 if you look hard enough, and parametric are the better devices.

So all you tone-freaks, here’s the unvarnished truth. You want tone? Control it with an equalizer.

Sound Recording and Guitar

Essence of Gun Control

The essence of the gun control debate is this.

Protectionist vs. Freedom-lover
P – No-one needs guns.
F – How can we defend ourselves against violent criminals?
P – The police will defend you.
F – With guns?
P – Yes, only the police and the military need guns.
F – So some people need guns. Are there violent criminals in the police or military?
P – Well… no, I’m sure they’re screened out.
F – Why isn’t this screening process used over the entire population?
P – Umm.. you can’t.
F – So they’re not screened out. You realise there are situations where the police and army never know there are people they ought to save, and therefore can’t save everyone, right?
P – The army saved the Jews in WW2.
F – It was the German army that was killing them in WW2!
P – Crazy gun-loving redneck racist.. *insane ranting*

Essence of Gun Control

Front Light Stolen

Someone stole the front light off my bike. Some rotter who thinks they have the right to take anything not secured well enough to prevent them taking it – and the person who didn’t secure their goods, it’s their fault. By their logic if I had a tow truck I could take their car and it’d be their fault. What annoys me the most is that I lost three of my Eneloop  batteries, too.

Bye bye little Spiderfire B200. You served me well. At the very least I hope you save the thief’s life so that they realise what a grave thing they did in stealing my light.

Front Light Stolen

Boutique Beer: White Shield

 

William Worthington’s White Shield is an India Pale Ale. It is labelled as a “Defiant survivor of 1820’s IPA traditions…”

IMG_0802It is a defiant beer. IPA have become quite hop driven but this IPA is not really so flowery or sweet. It has a slight bitterness but that mostly comes from the in-bottle conditioning and the head. It was a tight foam with a feisty scent. I had to scoop the head off the ale as its odour was too much for me. Once done I found the White Shield a very fine drop and heartily recommend it. This IPA can be shelved and will continue to improve for up to three years.

IMG_0803

Remember: don’t tip the last drops into your glass – this is bottle conditioned. The sediments are the dead yeast cells and other bits you don’t really want to drink.

Runjikol’s Score: good & recommended.

Boutique Beer: White Shield

Just a Man

I’m not a great man.
Just a man.
Of flaws and shortcomings.
With little wisdom.
Or wit in any measure.
I’m just a man.
Working with a set.
Of limited tools.
And a sliver of an idea.
How to use them.
I’m not a great man.
Just a man.
Limping through the trenches.
Of a violent world.
Attempting to cope.
With the damages of youth.
The conditioning of culture.
Paying protection money.
To the hand on the sword.
That pretends to be my friend.
I’m not a great man.
Just a man.
With barely working eyes.
A mind muddled and fried.
Addled and punch drunk.
From the jabs and hooks.
Fired from my fellow slaves.
On the free range tax farm.
I try to learn.
From greater men than I.
Men that have used their tools.
With less limited skill.
To build them into better men.
Whose voices show.
The fences of the farm.
I’m just a man.
Yearning for great freedom.
Trembling under the weight.
Of his own damages.

Just a Man