I have taken the board in its current state to rehearsal. While feeling bad about showing up with such a shoddy piece, the lead guitarists board shorted out and he had to switch to a backup because frankly, the whole thing is held together by thoughts and prayers, as well as the cheapest patch cables Thomann has on offer. The rhythm guitarists amp acted up because the power tubes have lived about seven fifths of their lifespan already. It took a while to get set up and everything loud. I felt not so bad about showing up with a sideways pedal on my board after that.
However, what did the FPT add to the Meatsmoke? Is it really necessary to run an amp-in-a-box pedal into a behemoth that is basically the complete front end of an amp into the Origin Bassrig? This sounds like overkill.
Overkill is a song by Motörhead. It's also the name of their second album.
While I love Motörhead, this rig sounds completely different. The organic grind that gets produced here is not really like being mauled by a rabid bear, but it's close.
I guess that when you were quartered (like in medieval times), but the necessary force is not supplied by equine, but instead ursine labour, and the bears in question are in fact rabid, and in great pain because of that - so they bellow at the top of their lungs while they gallop away in the four different directions while the ropes are attached to four different bits of you. When the ropes snap tight, and just at that last moment where your body is still occupying a single space at once, there is a lot of noise going on with those rabid bears screaming their lungs out, but that is only important for anyone else listening, because you're receiving the noise of multiple tissues inside your body ripping simultaneously through that "inside ear" that amplifies the noises within the confines of your skin in that weird way. That's what my bass does in the metal band. It's not front and center. It's what your ear has to face if it manages to wrestle through the first row of attackers.
Let me try a metaphor from the weird sports of American Football (which shall henceforth be referred to as American Handegg, because that makes much more sense): The guy in the front that screams incomprehensible things and then he tosses the egg backwards, to what I believe is the Quarterback, who feigns a thrown pass and then hands that egg off to one of the skinny but terrifyingly fast guys who magically slips through the melee, and expects to face a couple of gentlemen who as kids always drank their milk and finished their meals, so they grew to a size needed to fill the position of Line Backer.
But instead of seeing a trio or quartet of said Line Backers he's facing half a dozen of rabid bears in ill fitting football jerseys. They wear no protective gear whatsoever. Because they are bears. Nothing physical that happens on a Handegg field could impress them enough to slip on pads or a helmet.
Also, they are rabid, in a state of distress and ragingly white hot mad. Freeze. That skinny but fast guy holding the egg is your ears. That half dozen rabid bears is the bass tone. He's in full sprint, which is good - velocity is the only thing that could save him. But the vector of his velocity is as bad as it can possibly be: Aimed straight at the ursine committee that is really, really craving a good mauling right now. Unfreeze. No! This is a family friendly place. Fade to black.
