Ernie Ball Music Man
St Vincent with Jamie Dickson
With the Brian Eno gig I originally borrowed the St Vincent for out of the way, there’s time to consider where exactly this unusual instrument sits on the periodic table of tone. Despite its unconventional looks, I reckon the nearest comparable guitar is a Strat, that eternal allrounder. You could argue that a Firebird VII is closer still, but, to be honest, there aren’t too many of those in general circulation, so let’s stick with the Strat for the moment.
Like a Strat, the St Vincent has three pickups operated by a five-way switch with ‘hollow’ sounds in the in-between positions. They also share a broadly similar style of vibrato and also a 25.5-inch scale length. The body shape is radically different, of course, and so is the body material – alder or ash in the case of a Strat and African mahogany for the St Vincent.
Given these contrasts, I thought it might be interesting to see how they stack up at close quarters, if you A/B them. After all, if you are shopping in the St Vincent’s price range, you might also be considering an American Pro Strat or similar ‘contemporary classic’ design. For the sake of comparison, I’m using a Mexican-built Fender Jimi Hendrix Strat that has been upgraded with Callaham hardware and Roger Bentley pickups but also, acting as a higher-end comparator, a Suhr Classic Pro solidbody that falls squarely into the St Vincent’s price bracket. This one belongs to Darran Charles of prog-metal outfit Godsticks, who has modded it with three noiseless single coil-size pickups.
I’ve been playing my Jimi Strat all day, so it’s the perfect moment to pick up the St Vincent and note down some fresh impressions of how they compare. The first thing that stands out is the St Vincent’s neck profile. Its deep, soft V-profile has real authority and is beautifully sculpted. But it doesn’t feel ‘Stratty’, as such, and, in fact, the profile is borrowed from Music Man’s doublehumbucker Albert Lee, which St Vincent used before she got her own signature model. While comfortable and fast, it’s more imposing in the hand than the comfy C-profile of the Jimi Strat and you really have to grab hold of the guitar, to get the best from it.
That increased attack on the left hand automatically makes me dig in and play a little more aggressively with my right hand. So, without anything else being different, the St Vincent quickly imposes a subtly different musical agenda to the Strat. The contrast is even more pronounced when I switch to the Suhr, which has the kind of shallow, effortless neck that attracts dairy-themed compliments (‘buttery’ etc). Note though, that the St Vincent has serious punch and authority in its amplified voice, some of which I’ll wager is coming from that champ of a neck.
Next, the amplified test. If you’d played the St Vincent in isolation, you’d swear its hollow, in-between pickup selections were quite Strat-like in nature but, in direct comparison, the difference is clear. While the Strat and the Suhr both have the kind of lithe bounce and shimmer traditionally associated with Strats, the St Vincent has much more of a midfocused bark. It’s ballsy, just a touch raucous, and reminds me, more than anything else, of a Les Paul Junior. Combined with that assertive neck, you want to fire out sassy pentatonic lines like Hubert Sumlin – and, in fact, I reckon the St Vincent would make an excellent blues guitar – even the shape has a certain Bo Diddley-esque cool about it. Overall, in terms of traditional tonal archetypes, the St Vincent is much more ‘Gibson’ than ‘Fender’ in voicing. So maybe it is a latter-day Firebird after all? But that’s not quite right either, because it’s darker in voice. Really it has a character all of its own that deserves serious consideration if you’re in the market for something a little different. Next time, I’m going to try the St Vincent with a range of benchmark amps to see if I can find its perfect partner...