DIRTY IS THE NEW CLEAN
When I got to music school, I didn’t know how to read music. A bit of a problem, yeah? I mean, you didn’t need to know how to read music, right? That’s why you go to school for music—to learn how to do this stuff. My mentor, Lee, had been bugging me for a year to get a head start on that skill. He went to school for music—what does he know?
Day one of freshman year, music theory.
We open our theory books and, within the first few pages, we’re being asked to read charts. I’d seen this stuff before, but I didn’t really know what any of it meant. Bass and treble clefs, accidentals, key signatures, rhythms, etc.—a foreign language.
I approached my professor after class and told her I didn’t really know what any of it meant. She told me it would probably be best to take remedial theory, that I should go to my advisor and transfer out of Theory I, and that doing so would likely set me back a year. Bump that, bro.
I went dark for a week or two, learning how to read music. It was overwhelming because our classes didn’t stop to wait for me. I was still responsible for studying and memorizing all the other concepts we were being taught. It was frustrating and difficult, but I had to catch up. Eventually it all clicked, and we were cruuuuusin’ (until Theory III and IV—then death).
But that’s not exactly why we’re here right now.
Knowing what the notes are is crucial. If you’re learning how to play a piece for a recital, knowing which notes you’re responsible for is pretty important (duh). If you get the note wrong, you’re either improvising (that’s a no-no), or you weren’t adequately prepared. So we can all agree that knowing the notes is important.
However, I’d argue that what you do with the note is far more important.
When you’re looking at a piece of music, you’ll see dynamic markings: p, mp, f, sfv, fff, crescendo/decrescendo, etc. All of these markings tell you how loud or soft to play the note. My voice instructor taught me this: “Music doesn’t happen on the black markings—it happens between them.”
My argument begins here.
If you’re reading this, you’re probably an electric guitarist. I’d argue that we have the coolest job in a band—and we’re always the coolest in the band. We’re loud, have a lot of gear, and all the girls want us (never worked out for me, to be honest—my wife married me for my looks wink). Jokes aside, electric guitarists have an incredible responsibility in a band, particularly in regard to dynamics—and even more so in regard to the frequencies we occupy in a mix (more on that in a future blog).
There are two pieces to the instrument: guitar and amplifier. Both work together to create this incredible, loud, and powerful sound. Both are essential, but I believe the amp is the most important part of the equation. Sure, having a well-crafted and inspiring instrument is vital. It’s kind of like a car: the guitar is the tires, and the amp is the engine. You can’t get anywhere without both, but the engine makes the wheels turn.
Let’s say you’ve been working suuuuuper hard on being a more dynamic player. You’ve been practicing playing softer and louder, using fingers instead of a pick, playing as softly as you possibly can. After all, I just told you dynamics are where music is made! Then you plug into your amp, set it uber clean, and you don’t get to hear all the hard work you’ve been putting in. Everything still sounds the same. Sure, some parts are louder than others, but there’s not much expression happening. It just feels like you’re driving with a flat tire—something is working against you, not for you.
Not-so-subtle foreshadowing: turn your amp up.
A well-crafted, beautiful, properly dialed-in amp is the most invaluable part of an electric guitarist’s rig. When dialed in perfectly, all the work you’ve put into your hands is fully communicated. You’ll hear everything—musicality, harmonics (again, more on that in a future blog), saturation, bloom, etc. I truly believe that a beautiful amp feels like real magic. There is nothing more cathartic than turning on my Matchless HC-30 and setting it at that sweet spot at full volume. Truly, nothing like it in the world.
Let’s take a step back and talk about the technical elements of the amp and how to reach that “sweet spot.”
There are two sections of an amp: preamp and power.
The power section (often controlled by the master volume) governs the amp’s output. This is where sag and compression originate—this is how the amp feels. It dictates the overall loudness. If you need to turn the amp down in a live setting, this is where you do it. Many amps have a post-phase inverter master volume, which means it doesn’t affect the saturation coming from the preamp section. This helps preserve feel, but you still lose speaker breakup, cab resonance, and sag. So for me, the rule of thumb is: diming the master volume—which effectively removes it from the circuit. I actually prefer an amp without a master volume. Wide open, baby.
The preamp section controls gain and saturation. While both sections affect feel, the preamp is where the rubber meets the road. This section dictates whether the amp is clean or dirty. Increasing the preamp gain drives the amp harder. But either extreme—too clean or too dirty—can limit your dynamic range.
Now, there’s a sweet spot in an amp that allows full dynamic expression. That spot is called edge of breakup. At this point, the amp cleans up when you play softly and breaks up when you dig in. This is where the amp starts working for you, not against you. Remember all that hard work we talked about earlier? This is where people can hear it.
With the power section dimed and the preamp section at edge of breakup, you’re cooking with oil. Now all the special characteristics of a great amp are working in tandem: saturation, harmonics, speaker breakup, cab resonance, sag, compression, chime—magic.
When the amp is too clean, you lose much of that magic—you’re left with only some of the “good stuff.” You might hear some swirling harmonics, a bit of chime, and a touch of dynamics. But two problematic EQ issues usually emerge:
Too much bass and unpleasant low-mids when digging in or stacking overdrives.
Excess treble (harshness) at both the softest and loudest dynamic ranges.
If you’re experiencing this, consider turning your amp up.
Now, let’s tie this back to dynamics.
“Music doesn’t happen on the black markings,” right? Turning your amp up helps you make music—“…it happens between them.” Think back to the dynamic markings:
The breakup of the preamp section is your forte (f).
The soft but chewy cleans are your piano (p).
Your standard playing dynamic is mp or mf.
Roll off your guitar’s volume for pp (lol) (pianissimo).
Boost and drive for ff (fortissimo).
If you need to crescendo from soft to loud, the transition is beautiful, smooth, and expressive. Same with a decrescendo. If the amp is too clean, more damaging than the EQ quirks is the lack of dynamic range. In my experience, you’re stuck in a weak mezzopiano—maybe pushing into a soft forte. To get more, you end up stacking ODs, and your gain comes from pedals, not from the amp. That’s fine sometimes, but low-gain drives don’t always behave well in that role. So even if you hit ff, it’s not a good fortissimo.
We’ll talk about gain staging and stacking drives in a future blog. :)
Now, this isn’t always true. Some amps stay relatively clean yet remain dynamic. The Princeton is a prime example. Its edge-of-breakup point is full, punchy, and sweet—not harsh. It’s magical across the board. Similarly, the 5E3 circuit stays relatively clean but musical.
But if you like mid- to high-wattage amps—especially British ones—many of them don’t like to be clean. My HC-30 sounds best at the edge-of-breakup. Specifically in Channel One, with the volume set below 9:30, it’s practically unusable. It’s widely known that a Matchless is designed to be pushed. Even the Vox AC30 sounds poor when it’s too clean. I’m not a huge Vox fan (mostly a feel/response thing), but the AC30 set right is undeniably great.
Alright, I think I’ve made my point.
Here’s the deal: all of this is preferential. I know that. None of it is gospel. If you like your amps clean, rock with it. You can absolutely sound good there.
But maybe this helps explain some problems you thought you were having:
Why is my tone so harsh?
Why do I have to crank my gain pedals? Why so much noise?
FOH is having to EQ me heavily just to get me to sit right in the mix.
My tone isn’t inspiring.
My tone doesn’t feel right.
If any of this sounds familiar, maybe the problem is that the amp is an afterthought in your rig. Maybe you’re treating the amp as the thing that just makes your delays and reverbs louder, instead of the second—and more important—half of your instrument.
The amp isn’t the afterthought. The amp is the foundation of great tone. Treat it as such.