Mojo Working

October 24, 2014

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Just comatose on the sofa with a proper dose of Plague, none of that light weight man flu, this is a full-on near death experience with symptoms only alleviated by ginger and lemon tea while chewing on willow bark – source of aspirin, old indian trick. That’s North American Indian. Apparently they had no written language. No wonder it took so long to invent bloody headache tablets.

As I’m considered a vulnerable member of the community I get constant reminders from my Doc’s to have a flu jab. I had one once, never got flu but I swear my arm had it for weeks. I don’t see the point. It’s a complete lottery they will guess the right strain. Why risk your moderately good health and sanity by sitting in an airless hot waiting room for hours and hours with a bunch of wheezing coffin dodgers, breathing all over you, wearing corduroy trousers and ancient Clarkes shoes that look like they were designed by David Attenborough. I while away the time wondering if one of them will croak or have a jammer before I get my shot.

So slipping in and out of consciousness, dark tunnels, don’t look at the light, flash backs, hallucinations and all the usual sick sofa stuff, gets me round to thinking about tone capacitors. I’m lying here of course. I do have Plague but no one would ever seriously want to ponder on tone capacitors.

Oil filled Bumblebees, the Tone Gods, to be had at great expense, if you can track them down. Or Tropical Fish, Orange Drops, Mustards, Black Beauties. Sounds like a drug deal, a bunch of dodgy pills in a zip-lok bag. Take one, you’ll sound much better.

You can guess what’s coming. Get that Mojo tone. What utter tosh.

Mojo has got to be one of the most misused terms in the music industry. Keith Richards has it, Bumblebees have it. Bollocks it’s a mystical object, a magical token, or a hex. A stick, a pebble, bit of dried fish, whatever you want it to be.

Maybe it’s Voodoo, loads of that went down in New Orleans, or just some other gibberish. It’s not a magic musical tone bestowed by Old Nick, claiming to be the sole (not soul) province of music. I bet Keith’s head’s full of rocks by now and he looks more and more like the Walking Dead. The bandana stops pebbles rolling out his ears. Have you seen those ears ? Jesus why do your ears get massive when your old ? Like bloody Dumbo.

I went to New Orleans once, crazy place, smelt odd, filthy. Took a river boat trip with my mate, the Mississippi Queen. Tourist photo, turned in to a fridge magnet, only just realised it looks very camp. The place needed a good flush out. Ironically it got one. We got evacuated, that was even crazier than Bourbon Street.

Anyway, capacitors. Russian military specification, 600 volt. Bloody useful if your building a Sputnik but totally pointless in your Strat’ unless your thinking of sticking a 3 pin plug on it.

There’s a huge lucrative market out there for all this custom upgrade kit. A bit like sticking a wing on the back of your Ford Escort, except that makes you look a proper twat and is still completely useless.

You can even buy repro’ Bumblebees, just some regular crappy tone capacitor in a multi-coloured plastic sleeve. Hmm… now that sounds so much better, thanks. Sucker.

If your worried about tone, first off check your lead and buy a good one. (And yes we sell very good ones), short enough for your bedroom. Forget what you’ve been told, size does matter, Shorter the better. For once I’m not going to cheapen myself. You can always lengthen-up later when you need Stadium size.

Then aside from all those twiddly bits on your amp (tilt it upwards, every little helps), there’s your fingers – press a bit harder, or not, as the tone maybe. So despite buying all that SRV kit, including the hat and daft guitar, you just can’t sound like him – that’s because you ain’t got his digits.

I wonder if anybody has ? Now that would be some spooky collection. Bits of poor old Stevie all over a field and some weirdo furtling around with a plastic bag….. And don’t forget strings, we all need them (Yes, we sell good ones). Try a different gauge or 100% nickel, like all your old heros had to play with as there was no choice, flat wounds probably. None of this bright steel nano-web ultra light spider’s spit for big girls with soft fingers.

The not-so-ancient – depending on where you are on the scale, (just have a serious look at your shoes) – ancient greats, used to use banjo strings. Have you ever seen Deliverance ? Man they were strange critters. Probably got a sackfull of SRV’s fingers. I’ve been to Georgia. Full of lakes and trees. There really were people like that, just like their sister’s mother’s cousin, but no one quite like the banjo player. No tricks or CGI when that was filmed, boy could that sucker play.

How does that song go ? “The Devil went down to Georgia”. Forget Crossroads, I reckon he still lives there. And those people drive around in pickup trucks with guns and dogs hanging out the window. They have a supermarket chain called PigglyWigglys, big pink plastic neon pig sign, car park full of pickups and munters. It’s just wrong.

Pretty place but over run with throwbacks and people who can’t decide which eye to look out of. The one in the middle ?? And they’ve all got the Vote and a Gun.

I think Obama ought to seriously think about a bit of Devolution in his own manor too. Cut that bunch loose and build a big fence round it. All Cameron has to worry about is Nigel Farage. I bet old Nigel would never let them in. I’m apolitical. Trust none of them. Each party is just a big business. It’s a career, nobody cares about you or me long term. I’ll go and look for my soap box…..

Don’t vote, the Government always gets in. “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss…” as the song rightly says.

I went inside No 10 once. Bold as brass straight through the gates and the front door. I bet that has you wondering now. It’s all true. The copper inside said ” ‘E’s out but she’s upstairs” Conspiratorial nod.

Tony Blurghhhhh had his name on the letterbox then. Shifty bleeder that one. Bit disappointing inside, like a second rate office conversion badly in need of a lick of paint. Shabby. Looks great from the outside but once through the front door it’s all knocked through to No 11 and beyond. He used to play guitar, good old Tone, ha ha. Can’t remember what else he did though.

So, these Bumblebees and Tropical Fish Drops – not worth a light. You can try any capacitor you like, they all make a difference and cost buttons. If you don’t believe me read this “The Truth about Tone Capacitors” It must be true, it’s on the Net. Google it if the link sticks. If you care to drop your guitar off I’ll hook it up to a Mojo box so you can hear the difference, or not, between all of them, I won’t tell you what’s inside but it smells of fish.

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