Gear Spotlight: Rickenbacker 360/12 MG

On a blustery day in March, I finally did it—I trekked out to Burlington on GO Transit and procured my dream guitar. I present to you the Rickenbacker 360 electric 12-string guitar in a Mapleglo finish:

Rickenbacker makes its guitars to order, one at a time, at their factory in Santa Ana, California. If you're in Canada and you order through Rickenbacker's Canadian dealer, Long & McQuade, it takes up to a year for the instrument to arrive, and you can't try before you buy. The instrument comes in three colours: Jetglo (basic black), Fireglo (a sunburst red), and Mapleglo (the gorgeous woody beige you see here).

Sometimes, I suppose, people order a Rickenbacker and, for whatever reason, bail when it comes to making the purchase. These rare birds end up hanging on the racks at various Long & McQuade locations throughout Canada till someone snaps them up. For months, I'd been checking stock as I madly saved every dollar I could. I had my eye on the Mapleglo all along, as it's the variety played by two of my folk-rock heroes: Paul Kantner and Roger McGuinn.

By the time March rolled around, I'd saved up enough to justify financing the rest, and L&M had two 360/12s in stock in the whole country: a used Jetglo at their North York location and a brand-new Mapleglo in Burlington, a bedroom community about 60 kilometres from Toronto. I called Burlington long-distance to place a hold on the MG and hustled over there the same day.

Now, I'd also been looking at this (cheaper) Gretsch 12-string, which the Burlington store happened to have in stock as well. My heart was set on the Rick, of course, but I'd heard that its narrow neck could cause problems for those with big hands; in other words, the Gretsch might be easier for someone like me to play. So, it was fortuitous that I could try both out during the same trip, then decide.

I tried the Gretsch first. It was okay, though it felt a little clunky to play and I had to keep re-tuning. It had its own chime, but not that chime—the one you hear on those '60s classics that were all played on, you guessed it, Rickenbacker 360/12s. The bass pickup sounded a touch muddy as well, but all told, the G5422G-12 is certainly a decent guitar. If I were on a budget, I'd have considered it. However: then I plugged in the Rickenbacker, played the opening lick to The Byrds' version of "Mr. Tambourine Man" and promptly entered jingle-jangle nirvana. Wow! The Rickenbacker felt great to play and was a lot easier to tune than the Gretsch, but most importantly, it had that chime.

I'm not a technical guitar person, so I can tell you very little about the 360/12's specs or even what kind of wood it's made of. Okay, I looked it up: maple body, maple neck, rosewood fingerboard. Maybe all that means something to you. It has two pickups and a three-way toggle switch for bass, treble, or a combination of the two in the middle position. Each pickup has its own dedicated volume and tone controls. Then there's the mysterious fifth knob, which really isn't so mysterious once you experiment with it. It's a blend knob, used when your toggle switch is in the middle, that adjusts the ratio of treble pickup and bass pickup in the signal.

Rickenbacker's guitars come in two varieties: 330 and 360. Cosmetic differences aside—and there are a few—what differentiates the deluxe (360) from the standard (330) model is the addition of a separate stereo pickup. This allows you to route the signal through separate effects chains or amplifiers. Rickenbacker calls this Rick-O-Sound, and I have successfully used it on a recording. I had the toggle switch in the middle position and routed the treble pickup through my Vox amp on the AC-30 setting. The bass pickup went through the "Black Panel + Trem" preset on my Pocket Pod, and voila: one guitar, one take, two different sounds. Fabulous! 

To me, the 360/12 is the crown jewel of guitars. I've wanted one for years, and as I've gotten to know it over the spring and summer, I'm loving it even more. I don't know how Rickenbacker does it, but there's something about the way they build their guitars that gives them ... that chime. One thing I know they do differently with their 12-string guitars is reverse the usual course of the strings, with the lower octave of each pair on top. Also, their clever design makes the headstock a lot more compact than other 12-strings, the Gretsch included. And yes, the neck is thinner and my stubby fingers occasionally block strings I don't intend to block, but I've not found it to be such a problem as to render the guitar unplayable. I need to be mindful of it, that's all.

Amazingly, the guitar has that same magical chime and ring even when I play it unplugged. I've been copping some of Paul Kantner's licks from Jefferson Airplane's Woodstock set, and when I play the opening bars of "Eskimo Blue Day," my guitar sounds exactly like Paul's. And in true Kantnerian tradition, the Rickenbacker 360/12 MG will be my go-to rhythm guitar on most of my recordings from this point on. As Roger McGuinn will attest, though, it's not merely a rhythm instrument; in the Byrds, McGuinn used it as more of a lead guitar, with David Crosby holding down the rhythm on a Gretsch six-string.

I suppose I'll finish up by talking price. Rickenbackers in general don't come cheap, and the 360/12 is the most expensive of all, coming in at a cool $3,225 Cdn. before taxes. By comparison, the Gretsch G5422G-12 retails for $1,280. To my mind, the Rickenbacker blows its competitors away in build quality and sound, and there truly is no substitute. If you want to check it out, here's the Long & McQuade page ... but know that at the moment, there are no Rickenbacker 360/12s in stock anywhere in Canada. And here it is on Rickenbacker's website, sans pricing info for the United States or the rest of the world. I guess you'd have to find a dealer in your country, then go from there.

"In the jingle-jangle morning, I'll come following you" - Bob Dylan, "Mr. Tambourine Man"

A Golden Oldie: Mix Tape Goes Digital

Difficulties, technical and otherwise, prevent me from making a proper blog post this month. In its stead, I present this golden oldie from the archives, specifically April 2009. Enjoy—vn.
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Mix Tape Goes Digital

I know, I know: old news, right? Maybe for you, tech-savvy young'un, but grandpa here just purchased his first mp3 player and is having a blast programming it, which brings me to the subject of today's civics class.

Programming music is an art, one that should be a highly prized social skill. (Why most people care far more about, e.g., the layout of a garden or the presentation of snooty food is utterly beyond me. But I digress.)

Let's begin with issues of top-down structure. I'm old enough to remember when albums were meant to be listened to in totality, in sequence. Thus, my player contains as many complete albums as I could fit onto it (roughly twelve). These are then categorized by genre (jazz, classical, folk, rock, electronica), a feast of full works as the artists intended them.

There are, of course, times when a listener wants a little of this, a little of that. Sure, I could simply use the "shuffle" function but that's too random for my tastes. As one who prefers to program the music's peaks and valleys, I've created a Top 150, a digital jukebox if you will. It too has an overarching structure: one song per artist. This simple dictum in place, we're ready to blast into sonic nirvana. Allow me to introduce you to some of my musical heroes ...

As any performer will tell you, you want to start and finish with a bang. For me, that means kicking off with Game Theory's "Leilani" (a chiming, surreal ode to my beloved via her pseudonym), "Broken" by The Guess Who (the most under-appreciated B-side of all time; Kurt Winter's solo is stunning), and "The Family of Man" by Three Dog Night (what's the sound of one jaw dropping—Danny, Chuck, and Cory, in that order, showing off their pipes). The latter two hearken back to '71-'72, back to my youth, back to the first music I heard that had mojo.

From here we weave our way into and out of the '60s, '70s, '80s, '90s and occasionally '00s, rarely in that order. We rage in teenage indignation with Husker Du's "In a Free Land," shake our cerebellums to Japan's brainy synth-pop ("Still Life in Mobile Homes"), imbibe the pioneering ambiance of Pink Floyd ("Echoes"—yes, the full 23 minutes), and soulfully "Drift Away" with Dobie Gray.

At Song 24 comes our first thematic pairing: "Venus" by Television and "Venus" by The Shocking Blue. (Compiler's note: Bananarama's "Venus" would be both redundant and inferior. As for Frankie Avalon, not a bloody chance! This mp3 player is cheese-free.)

Song 38 introduces the "sunlight" section of the proceedings. Jonathan Edwards' clipped, caustic "Sunshine" is followed by Richie Havens' exuberant remake of "Here Comes the Sun." Add the trippy "That Ole Sun" by modern psych-meisters The Sunshine Fix and you've got your daily dose of Vitamin D and then some.

Some pairings aren't quite so obvious. Consider Songs 45 and 46, Nick Drake's "Northern Sky" and "Life in a Northern Town" by The Dream Academy. I didn't know until recently that the latter was written for/about Nick Drake. Perhaps not coincidentally, both share an ethereal, mystical quality.

Then there are the strictly musical marriages. For instance, at Song 112 I love the way the final chord of Moby Grape's galloping "Rounder" segues into the almost-identical opening of "Kinder Murder" by Elvis Costello. (Note too the completely unconscious "-er" pairing!) The Washington Squares ("New Generation"), Tracy Chapman ("Talkin' 'Bout a Revolution"), Gordon Lightfoot ("Steel Rail Blues"), and Joan Baez ("The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down") form a shimmering folk quartet at Song 97, and let's hear it for this salvo o' soul at Song 106: "Why Can't We Live Together" (Timmy Thomas), "Let's Stay Together" (Al Green), "Funky Nassau" (The Beginning of The End), "Sex Machine" (James Brown). Ow!

I enjoy making "lineage" pairings as well. Though (deliberately) not chronological, the sequence of Teenage Fanclub, Small Faces, The Who and Paul Weller at Song 137 makes eminent musical sense to any student of rock. In a more cultural vein, check out the trio starting at Song 82: "Woodstock" (Matthews' Southern Comfort), "With a Little Help From My Friends" (Joe Cocker, live at Woodstock), and "Moonshadow" (Cat Stevens). The festival's euphoria is first told by a band (and songwriter) who weren't there, shown in process, and spat back in your face through an early '70s confessional.

As mentioned earlier, it behooves us to end with a flourish, so without further ado I offer The Crescendo, from Song 145: Kate Bush, "The Man With the Child in His Eyes"; Jefferson Starship's epic "St. Charles"; The English Beat, "End of the Party"; The Waterboys, "Spirit"; and Santana's "Every Step of the Way," a white-hot rush of molten fusion ecstasy. If you listen carefully all four touch on transcendence through love, personal or transpersonal.

And once you've fired all your guns, what else to do but lay down your weary tune in the form of Song 150, the hypnotic "Universal Copernican Mumbles." Turn 'em every which way but loose, then let 'em down easy. Sure, this Paul Kantner/Grace Slick tone poem arguably violates the one-song-per-artist rule, especially situated a scant four songs from the Starship. But in that spirit, I beg off with words from Herr Kaptain himself:

There are three rules of rock 'n' roll;

unfortunately, no one knows what they are.

- Paul Kantner, after W. Somerset Maugham

Your Mind Has Left Your Body

I can now empathize with the shock and grief of all the Bowiephiles out there, as my greatest musical hero passed away a couple of weeks back. I'm speaking of singer/guitarist/visionary Paul Kantner, the guiding light behind Jefferson Airplane and later, Jefferson Starship.

Most people haven't even heard of him, and here's why: for all his stubbornness and obstinacy, Paul was in some ways the ultimate team player. In the Airplane, he was flanked by two expressive, talented vocalists (Grace Slick and Marty Balin) and three staggeringly gifted instrumentalists (guitarist Jorma Kaukonen, bassist Jack Casady and drummer Spencer Dryden). Paul's guitar—always subtle, never flashy, sometimes buried in the mix—was, in Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir's words, "the glue that held all that together." As for his singing, Weir continues, "his voice was the foundation of the choral vocals." Without exception, his songs were vehicles for the ensemble, sonic flights of fancy in which the collective could shine. As Jorma noted in his touching tribute, "Paul was the catalyst that made the alchemy happen."

Another reason you don't know Paul Kantner: though he was the only constant over a 19-year whirlwind of personnel changes, he never wrote or sang lead on a hit single. It wasn't his way or his interest, really, as his esoteric compositions didn't lend themselves to hit-making. His biography on the Airplane's website puts it succinctly: "If Marty Balin was the soul of the band and Grace Slick its public persona, then Paul Kantner could be considered its brain."

The first member Marty recruited for his new band in March 1965, Paul may be the only person in rock history who passed the audition by not auditioning. Marty: "I was at a hootenanny at this folk club in Frisco called The Drinking Gourd. I was just looking at people; they were filling up the list for the hootenanny and this guy comes in with two [guitar] cases, a 6 and a 12, in his hand. I was looking for a guy who could play a 12-string; I'd come out of folk and liked 12-string a lot. I said, 'Hey, give him my spot. Let's see what he does.' And it was the funniest thing. He started to play, and then just stopped. He said, 'I can't do this.' And for some reason I said, 'That's the guy. That's the guy, right there.'"

From such humble beginnings Paul became, hands down, my favourite guitarist of all time. Were I to make this claim to a roomful of guitar devotees, predominant reactions would be two: first, "Who?" And second, for those with passing familiarity with his music, "You're kidding, right?" Indeed, this is a man who, during the darkest days of '80s-era Jefferson Starship, was told by one of his bandmates that he couldn't play, much less write a decent song.

A brilliant technician he's not, but Paul was a true original in a realm where everyone sounds like each other. Alternately chiming and slashing through the maelstrom with his Rickenbacker 12-string, his sound, voicing and arrangement skills were unique. Doubters and naysayers should check out, among others, "Wild Tyme" from the Airplane's epic After Bathing at Baxter's album. (If you can figure out what Paul's playing, let me know. I've no idea how he's hitting those odd chords, most of which lack major or minor thirds. Paul's guitar is on the left.) To hear him in a vastly different context, try "Love Too Good," the lead track off Jefferson Starship's Earth. He's on the right here, a bit lower in the mix, and his part kicks in around 0:27 with some gorgeous harmonics.

Also recommended is "The Other Side of This Life" from the Airplane's live Bless Its Pointed Little Head. While Grace, Marty, Jack, Jorma and Spencer chase each other like a pack of wild hounds, there's Paul on your left, bell-like, chiming away, his guitar almost having the timbre of a piano, holding the whole thing together. Again I emphasize: no other rhythm guitarist sounds like this. If you can figure out what the heck he's doing, I'd love to know.

In tribute, I'm working up several of Paul's songs to, in his words, "carry the fire." It's not been an easy task because as mentioned earlier, this was an artist who wrote not for himself but the band. Much of his stuff requires the vocal and instrumental acrobatics of others to truly flower. I have, however, managed to cherry-pick five or six tunes (so far) that translate well to solo performance. I only hope to do them justice.

I got to meet Paul once, when a late iteration of Jefferson Starship played a club date in Toronto some 15 years back. He and Marty signed my Volunteers album, and I chatted briefly with Marty but couldn't bring myself to approach Paul. You know how it is: when you meet your heroes you either get completely tongue-tied or gush at them for hours. I sure didn't want to do that, and a simple "I love your music" seemed hollow and trite, though certainly true. So, I shook his hand, thanked him for the autograph and left.

More accolades from those who knew Paul best—here's Jorma Kaukonen again: "He held our feet to the flame. He could be argumentative and contentious … he could be loving and kind … his dedication to the Airplane’s destiny as he saw it was undeniable."

Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart: "[Paul] was kind of the backbone of that band. It was always about Grace and Jack and Jorma [but] I don't think he got the credit he deserved."

Bob Weir: "Paul lived at the heart of the song. He was there for the Muse—when she needed a human voice or instrument, she channelled it through him."

Jack Casady: "[Paul] was the pilot who flew Jefferson Airplane and later Jefferson Starship to unparallelled heights, beyond our wildest dreams, but not his. He had a vision. And he pursued that vision with relentless abandon."

Marty Balin: "He would write these songs sometimes, and they would be so long and ponderous, these giant epics about living in space. It was like a postmodernist, putting this and that and this together. It was very difficult to make his songs fly. Some of his songs were, God, gigantic pieces of music, but he developed his own thing. He was one of the greats, one of the most interesting people I ever associated with. He left a good body of work. If people just listen to his music, they'll see how great he was."

You can do just that by starting with this (Airplane-heavy) top ten list of Paul's songs. If you hear in them what I do, you're in for a wonderful journey. I could of course recommend dozens more, but that's for you to discover.

I'll leave the last word to Jack Casady, as I think he put it best: "It was always Paul's vision that steered the ship. I would like to offer my condolences to Paul's family, especially his children China, Gareth and Alexander. He will be greatly missed. But he will also be remembered and cherished by the legions of fans that he made at every port he stopped at. Fare thee well, fair aviator."

You have left your body
Return when you may
Save it for another day ... beyond you

- Paul Kantner, 1973