So I went back over what I had taken in Photos. Because Photos has the Get Info panel, and that tells you the lens details - at least if the data was available.
Sometime in 2009 I started using the Canon Powershot A590 IS. The lens is said to be 5.8 - 23.2mm, and the Canon specs say that the 35mm equivalent is 35-140mm. I seemed to have stopped using it towards the end of 2011, which is when I stopped going on holidays, and switched to using a C510 phone camera and then the iPhone 4S, sometime in 2012.
In 2013 I started using a Canon EOS1100D, which was an APS-C camera with a 35mm equivalent of 24-80mm. It's a chunky bit of kit.
Sometime in 2014 until sometime in 2018 I started using a Panasonic DMS TZ-40, with a 35mm equivalent of 24-480mm, some of which may be digital zoom. I used the iPhone SE camera for a while between 2019 and 2021.
At the end of 2021 started using the Fujifilm X-E4, with the 50mm-equivalent lens, which I swapped in late 2024 for the 40mm-equivalent pancake lens. Because it's easier to carry and made a change.
None of those cameras were expensive by the standards of the time. The EOS110D was about half the price of the X-E4, which shows in the quality of the Fuji kit. I still have the EOS1100D and the DMS TZ-40.
That Get Info panel also tells you the focal length of the zoom lens. Which is super-useful.
(All sizes are now 35mm-equivalent unless otherwise mentioned.)
The majority of the shots I have kept are taken at one end of the range or the other of the lens. The more zoom it offered, the more I seemed to look for shots that would use that much zoom. A lot of the landscape / cityscape shots I liked enough to keep were either around 35mm or 120mm. Some went the full 480mm the TZ-40 would allow. I feel that 82mm is really just cropping the picture in camera, whereas 100-120mm is a different picture. The silly focal lengths of the TZ-40 were a bit of a spoiler. The shots that have intermediate focal lengths are really me cropping in camera. (Cropping in camera is not a Bad Thing: the picture quality is higher than a cropped picture would be.) All the people shots I like were 120mm or more. Do that with a small camera and no-one will notice. Try to get a 120mm zoom shot of someone sitting a few feet away with an APS-C lens and they will notice. That takes a certain amount of social skills I might not have.
The Fujinon zooms that are not too large, too heavy or too silly, are the XF 16-80, the XF 18-135, the XF 18-120, the XF 16-55, and the XF 18-55. The 18-120 has internal zoom (which is cool), but Fuji says that it is really for videographers. Shame. The x-55's are not zoomy enough: 55mm feels like cutting-out-clutter-around-the-subject. I can see why portrait snappers use it. That leaves the 16-80 and the 18-135. Both are about the same (second-hand) price, size and weight. Both lenses extend during zoom, which is a little... naff, but unavoidable.
Looking at my pictures, the more zoom I have, the more zoomy pictures I can see and will take. On that basis, the answer is the 16-135.
So why am I not rushing onto the Interwebz to buy one?
Zooming is a little like photography candy: it's sweet and addictive. It's one reason I deliberately bought a prime when I got the X-E4. Taking shots with a prime between 35mm and 50mm is a discipline. Anyone can zoom in on a neat detail, and I have enough shots to prove I can do it well, but composing a whole shot is much more of a challenge. So there's that. You know, suffering for my art. And this whole exercise is assuming I am buying second-hand. New prices for these lenses are... I mean, you can a Player Series Strat for that kind of money. It's outside my costs-as-much-as-a-256GB-iPad (£429) rule.
Friday, 7 November 2025
Friday, 31 October 2025
Fender Princeton '65 Reverb Re-Issue
For at least two decades, the pros in Nashville played through Deluxe Reverbs and the pros on the West Coast played through Princetons. It has been said, probably by Fender's PR department, that sixty per cent of all the guitar parts recorded in the 1960's and '70's were played on a Strat through a Princeton.
Every now and then Fender changed the exact features, look and sound of their amps, kinda like Ford changed the look of its car models each year. The current line-up has the '62, '64, '65, and '68 versions. This is a darn good comparison
Every now and then Fender changed the exact features, look and sound of their amps, kinda like Ford changed the look of its car models each year. The current line-up has the '62, '64, '65, and '68 versions. This is a darn good comparison
of all of them. Listen through headphones.
I did, and in the end I went for the '65 Reissue https://uk.fender.com/products/65-princeton-reverb the '62 and '64 are £2,000+ hand-wired, so out of my self-imposed budget. The '65 had the sound I wanted. It has a 10-inch Jensen speaker, a 15W amp (the manual says 15W, the marketing says 12W), an actual analog spring reverb unit, and vibrato. There are two inputs: on the left for single-coils, on the right for humbuckers. The one on the right takes out 6dB, which may not sound like a lot, but it reduce the input signal strength to a quarter of what comes from the guitar. I'm plugged into the right-hand side. Flip the switch on the back and give the valves a minute to warm up.
The usual remark about valve amps is that 1 is silent, 2 is not-quite-there, 3 is too loud, and after that it just gets more saturated and distorted. I can play the Princeton at 4-5 with the guitar at 6-8 and it's on song and bedroom-level. Which is what I was looking for, and tested for when I tried it out at GuitarGuitar in Epsom.
If you have ever tried more than two perfumes from Guerlain you will know their perfumes have a very similar base they refer to as 'guerlainade', which is a secret like the recipe for Coca-Cola. On top of that they put this or that scent to get Habit Rouge, or Jicky, or L'Heure Bleu, or whatever else. But all their perfumes are instantly recognisable as Guerlain.
That's what happens when twiddling the dials on the Princeton, or indeed, putting pedals in front of it. Changing the bass and treble does not change the underlying sound, it just makes it more or less bass-y and more or less treble-y. Turn the guitar volume pots to 10 and turn the amp down to 2.5 to keep the volume polite, and it sounds more or less the same as turning the amp up to 10 and the pots to 2. High guitar and low amp is a little finer-edged and high amp and low guitar is a little rounder. It's still the same underlying sound. As it is when using the reverb or the vibrato.
The '65 starts clean and stays clean. Feed it some pedal distortion, turn the volume up and the distortion cleans up. Turn the volume down and there's this nasty fizzing that happens with all amps. It took a little experiment to get a good setting for some of the distortion effects in the Helix: guitar around 7-8, amp at 4. That also sounds good clean. Those pedal distortion sounds are quite liveable at bedroom volumes. Same trick as before: turn up the distortion effect to get the sound, feed it into a compressor - I've used the Deluxe Compressor effect - to attenuate it to bedroom volumes. I have very high thresholds so the compression is barely noticeable.
It makes my PRS McCarty 549 SE sound like an electric guitar. Which the Katana never quite managed. I always wanted to tweak the sound from the Katana, but I plugged in to the Princeton and that was it. That was the sound. It's like my 594 and the Paranormal finally met the Right Amp. Even the bridge pickups sound good through it. It is "next-level hi-fi" compared to the Katana's "superior transistor radio", and so it should be for the price difference.
Getting a valve amp is definitely part of the electric guitar experience. You may prefer the sound of a Marshall, or a Vox, or a Soldano, or whatever else. Test it at the seller's palce to make sure that it comes on song at a level your neighbours will tolerate.
I did, and in the end I went for the '65 Reissue https://uk.fender.com/products/65-princeton-reverb the '62 and '64 are £2,000+ hand-wired, so out of my self-imposed budget. The '65 had the sound I wanted. It has a 10-inch Jensen speaker, a 15W amp (the manual says 15W, the marketing says 12W), an actual analog spring reverb unit, and vibrato. There are two inputs: on the left for single-coils, on the right for humbuckers. The one on the right takes out 6dB, which may not sound like a lot, but it reduce the input signal strength to a quarter of what comes from the guitar. I'm plugged into the right-hand side. Flip the switch on the back and give the valves a minute to warm up.
The usual remark about valve amps is that 1 is silent, 2 is not-quite-there, 3 is too loud, and after that it just gets more saturated and distorted. I can play the Princeton at 4-5 with the guitar at 6-8 and it's on song and bedroom-level. Which is what I was looking for, and tested for when I tried it out at GuitarGuitar in Epsom.
If you have ever tried more than two perfumes from Guerlain you will know their perfumes have a very similar base they refer to as 'guerlainade', which is a secret like the recipe for Coca-Cola. On top of that they put this or that scent to get Habit Rouge, or Jicky, or L'Heure Bleu, or whatever else. But all their perfumes are instantly recognisable as Guerlain.
That's what happens when twiddling the dials on the Princeton, or indeed, putting pedals in front of it. Changing the bass and treble does not change the underlying sound, it just makes it more or less bass-y and more or less treble-y. Turn the guitar volume pots to 10 and turn the amp down to 2.5 to keep the volume polite, and it sounds more or less the same as turning the amp up to 10 and the pots to 2. High guitar and low amp is a little finer-edged and high amp and low guitar is a little rounder. It's still the same underlying sound. As it is when using the reverb or the vibrato.
The '65 starts clean and stays clean. Feed it some pedal distortion, turn the volume up and the distortion cleans up. Turn the volume down and there's this nasty fizzing that happens with all amps. It took a little experiment to get a good setting for some of the distortion effects in the Helix: guitar around 7-8, amp at 4. That also sounds good clean. Those pedal distortion sounds are quite liveable at bedroom volumes. Same trick as before: turn up the distortion effect to get the sound, feed it into a compressor - I've used the Deluxe Compressor effect - to attenuate it to bedroom volumes. I have very high thresholds so the compression is barely noticeable.
It makes my PRS McCarty 549 SE sound like an electric guitar. Which the Katana never quite managed. I always wanted to tweak the sound from the Katana, but I plugged in to the Princeton and that was it. That was the sound. It's like my 594 and the Paranormal finally met the Right Amp. Even the bridge pickups sound good through it. It is "next-level hi-fi" compared to the Katana's "superior transistor radio", and so it should be for the price difference.
Getting a valve amp is definitely part of the electric guitar experience. You may prefer the sound of a Marshall, or a Vox, or a Soldano, or whatever else. Test it at the seller's palce to make sure that it comes on song at a level your neighbours will tolerate.
Friday, 24 October 2025
South Bank Sunny Monday Autumn Morning
The title speaks for the photos. One day I will take black-and-white photos in the rain under a dark grey sky and then I will be a real photographer.
Friday, 17 October 2025
Craig Clunas' Art In China - Oxford Art History Series
A history of art for non-professionals should be about the professional lives of the artists, what their works were, why we should be interested, what technical challenges the artist faced and solved, what innovations they made, who the patrons were or if the works were speculative, and what symbolism and allusion we illiterate modern viewers will otherwise surely miss. Something about who owns the paintings would be interesting. None of this has to be lengthy: where the artist bought their paint, when they used canvas or jute or paper, what are the identifying marks of their brushstrokes, that sort of detail can be left to essays in specialist journals, or very expensive reference books. Provenances and previous sale prices are for a catalogue from Christie or Sotheby. A little colour may help, if the artist was imprisoned by some Italian Duke, or had to flee to Portugal to escape the French, or something like that.
This is not what a post-modern art-history will give us. Post-modern commentary makes everything about power, politics, gender, and class. This is shame, because it means the texts are almost identical up to the names of people, dates and places, from one period or style to the next. Art is for rich people. Artists were not given the respect and celebrity they deserved, except for (enter names here). Women’s contributions have been erased from the record, but they probably produced better art than the men. Contributions by non-Europeans also erased from the record because White Fragility and racisim. Western art bad, indigenous art good, especially if it satirises the Europeans. Portrayals of deviance, subversive and Good; portrayals of heterosexual pleasure, patriarchal, oppressive and Bad. You know the drill.
The Oxford Art History series is full of it, and I have no idea why I bought this volume. Maybe I was expecting more.
The further back in time we go, the more art is about statues, pottery, mosaics, jewellery and other solid things that last. What remains belongs to kings, princes, dukes, bishops, knights, and wealthy merchants. If there was any pop-culture, it has almost vanished, unless it was on pottery. This is rather convenient for a post-modernist: they get to hob-nob with the rich and powerful, all the while holding their noses delicately against the whiff of modern sins, at the same time overlooking the legal and economic conditions of feudalism, which a modern middle-class person would find intolerable, but our post-modern scholars, one suspects, would rather enjoy, since they fancy themselves the courtiers of the powerful. Every now and then a satirical illustration will turn up on a wall or a jug, and the post-modern scholar will rejoice at this sign of “resistance” if it is to “colonial” powers (“resistance” to the local feudal lord was altogether too risky for the resistor for any traces to be left for us to find).
Craig Clunas delicately protests at the idea of “Chinese Art” and insists that it is “Art made in China”. The phrase “Chinese Art” suggests that there is a large body of work made in China that follows some common conventions, and over a long period of time, up to (say) 1950 or so, when modern telecommunications and travel started to homogenise those parts of the cultural world that saw a profit in it. In this sense, there is undoubtedly “Chinese Art”: elegant calligraphy, virtuosic drawing in ink of scenes and items from nature, stylised faces, and - this is something I learned from the book - huge landscapes overwhelming an event of significance in the lives of the people… what people, oh, there, almost hidden in that little house. No or few flattering portraits of emperors and their concubines; no scenes of piety at a shrine, with the client kneeling in profile to one side, as were common in the medieval times in Europe; no commemorations of famous victories… or at least none have come survived.
Where are all the celebratory paintings? Why were Chinese rulers immune to the grandiosity of their European counterparts? What were the technical challenges of painting on silk, and why did paper replace it? Why the tiny figures in vast landscapes? Why the lack of colour? Why all the painfully restrained and elegant pale blues and black and white sketching? What was the purpose of the calligraphy and stamps on an image? Why do the stamps seem so carelessly placed compared to the positioning of the calligraphy? Why did calligraphy have such a pre-eminent position in courtly society?
These questions can be answered in a paragraph at most, but require more than a paragraph of research. That’s the scholar’s job: to reduce hours of painful research and understanding to a couple of hundred words we mere mortals can understand.
My suggestion is that, big as it may be, China simply did not have the diversity of farmland and hence of crops and animals that Europe had. It does not now. Thus it could not generate the excess profits needed to support a (literally) rich culture. Also, Emperor Xuando issued the Edict of Haijin in 1434 that almost closed off the country from the rest of the world. There were Westerners - often traders and missionaries in China, but their access and influence seems to have been very limited.
Clunas mentions that there were art critics and manuals, but never quotes any. Art is more than a collection of products, it is also a practice guided by theories, and those are interesting in their own right. We do not need a huge tome of translations of art critics, but some extracts would be informative. Today there are dozens of books in print about how to draw and colour, and probably far more classes. Before the 1800’s there were, even in the Western tradition, very few books by artists about how to carry on the practice, and those help us appreciate what we look at.
Some of the illustrations are quite good - this isn't a book of high-gloss reproductions - and if you know nothing about Chinese Art.... I'd still find another book.
This is not what a post-modern art-history will give us. Post-modern commentary makes everything about power, politics, gender, and class. This is shame, because it means the texts are almost identical up to the names of people, dates and places, from one period or style to the next. Art is for rich people. Artists were not given the respect and celebrity they deserved, except for (enter names here). Women’s contributions have been erased from the record, but they probably produced better art than the men. Contributions by non-Europeans also erased from the record because White Fragility and racisim. Western art bad, indigenous art good, especially if it satirises the Europeans. Portrayals of deviance, subversive and Good; portrayals of heterosexual pleasure, patriarchal, oppressive and Bad. You know the drill.
The Oxford Art History series is full of it, and I have no idea why I bought this volume. Maybe I was expecting more.
The further back in time we go, the more art is about statues, pottery, mosaics, jewellery and other solid things that last. What remains belongs to kings, princes, dukes, bishops, knights, and wealthy merchants. If there was any pop-culture, it has almost vanished, unless it was on pottery. This is rather convenient for a post-modernist: they get to hob-nob with the rich and powerful, all the while holding their noses delicately against the whiff of modern sins, at the same time overlooking the legal and economic conditions of feudalism, which a modern middle-class person would find intolerable, but our post-modern scholars, one suspects, would rather enjoy, since they fancy themselves the courtiers of the powerful. Every now and then a satirical illustration will turn up on a wall or a jug, and the post-modern scholar will rejoice at this sign of “resistance” if it is to “colonial” powers (“resistance” to the local feudal lord was altogether too risky for the resistor for any traces to be left for us to find).
Craig Clunas delicately protests at the idea of “Chinese Art” and insists that it is “Art made in China”. The phrase “Chinese Art” suggests that there is a large body of work made in China that follows some common conventions, and over a long period of time, up to (say) 1950 or so, when modern telecommunications and travel started to homogenise those parts of the cultural world that saw a profit in it. In this sense, there is undoubtedly “Chinese Art”: elegant calligraphy, virtuosic drawing in ink of scenes and items from nature, stylised faces, and - this is something I learned from the book - huge landscapes overwhelming an event of significance in the lives of the people… what people, oh, there, almost hidden in that little house. No or few flattering portraits of emperors and their concubines; no scenes of piety at a shrine, with the client kneeling in profile to one side, as were common in the medieval times in Europe; no commemorations of famous victories… or at least none have come survived.
Where are all the celebratory paintings? Why were Chinese rulers immune to the grandiosity of their European counterparts? What were the technical challenges of painting on silk, and why did paper replace it? Why the tiny figures in vast landscapes? Why the lack of colour? Why all the painfully restrained and elegant pale blues and black and white sketching? What was the purpose of the calligraphy and stamps on an image? Why do the stamps seem so carelessly placed compared to the positioning of the calligraphy? Why did calligraphy have such a pre-eminent position in courtly society?
These questions can be answered in a paragraph at most, but require more than a paragraph of research. That’s the scholar’s job: to reduce hours of painful research and understanding to a couple of hundred words we mere mortals can understand.
My suggestion is that, big as it may be, China simply did not have the diversity of farmland and hence of crops and animals that Europe had. It does not now. Thus it could not generate the excess profits needed to support a (literally) rich culture. Also, Emperor Xuando issued the Edict of Haijin in 1434 that almost closed off the country from the rest of the world. There were Westerners - often traders and missionaries in China, but their access and influence seems to have been very limited.
Clunas mentions that there were art critics and manuals, but never quotes any. Art is more than a collection of products, it is also a practice guided by theories, and those are interesting in their own right. We do not need a huge tome of translations of art critics, but some extracts would be informative. Today there are dozens of books in print about how to draw and colour, and probably far more classes. Before the 1800’s there were, even in the Western tradition, very few books by artists about how to carry on the practice, and those help us appreciate what we look at.
Some of the illustrations are quite good - this isn't a book of high-gloss reproductions - and if you know nothing about Chinese Art.... I'd still find another book.
Friday, 10 October 2025
The Story of the Clever Little Box
Hello little box, how are you?
Do you want to go upstairs?
Let's go into the Music Room.
Here you are.
What's that inside?
Oh gosh! It's a Fender '65 Princeton Reverb! What a clever little box you are!
Shall we put it up on the Amp Shelf? So I can hear it properly when sitting in front of it?
And say Thank You and Goodbye to the Katana...
I will give you all a review next week or so.
(Look carefully at the notations on the box. Why is the amp shipped upside down?)
Friday, 3 October 2025
Southend Skies
The Met Office said it would be sunny with the odd cloud all day, but it turned out like this for most of the morning. However, the clouds and the light really was quite special. The pier is 1.3 miles long, and looking at a Maps App shows you to be in the middle of the Thames with no visible means of support. We walked out and took the rattly-clattery train back. Of course we did fish-and-chips on the seafront.
Friday, 26 September 2025
You Get What You Need - If You Can Work Out What That Is
I'm pretty sure that Mick Jagger was not setting out an approach to purchasing equipment when he wrote the immortal lines
When I was thinking about buying a camera a couple of years ago, what I really wanted was a Fuji GFX 100. A medium-format monster, a snip at £7,000 for the body and £3,000 for a lens. Call me a killjoy, but with my skills and lifestyle, I just couldn't justify that. That's Holy Grail stuff. Also, the probability of me damaging or losing a £10,000 camera are much higher than that of damaging or losing a £500 camera. After watching many reviews and looking at the major camera makers' websites, I came up with this... I wanted
When it was time to trade in the Epiphone Les Paul Standard 50's, after thinking in terms of this and that and an SG, I realised that what I wanted was a
Recently I thought that it might be nice, as well as time, to move up to a Real Valve Amp. Fender of course. (Really? There are other amp makers? Who knew?) What I wanted was
So the '65 it is. GuitarGuitar do a 30-day return. What am I waiting for?
Around the same time, I wondered if I might to get a telephoto zoom for the X-E4. Like it or not, many of the good shots available in London do need to be picked out of the surrounding visual sludge by cropping or zooming. It happens that there is a very good third-party lens - the Tamron X-mount 17-70 - for the Fuji. If I were to get a telephoto zoom, and didn't want to pay Fuji prices, nor carry around the weight of solid-metal Fuji lenses, that would be the one. So I know what I need.
What am I waiting for?
I'm waiting for my inner Scrooge to stop telling me that with my appalling guitar skills, cack-handed photographic skills and warped eye for a picture, plus my unwillingness to actually go out and shoot pictures, I cannot "justify" the expense.
If I was a forty-year-old married man with a mortgage and two children needing private education, this might be a reasonable reservation.
But I'm not. I'm an older man on the last few laps. Possessing nice gear is one of the small pleasures of life, even if one doesn't use it as much or as well as a pro would. Heck, all of it can be sold on the second-hand market.
And I don't go on holidays. Now there's an expense I really can't justify.
If it ever happens, I'll let you know. And I'll try to get some culture under my belt to write about as well.
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
You just might find
You get what you need
When I was thinking about buying a camera a couple of years ago, what I really wanted was a Fuji GFX 100. A medium-format monster, a snip at £7,000 for the body and £3,000 for a lens. Call me a killjoy, but with my skills and lifestyle, I just couldn't justify that. That's Holy Grail stuff. Also, the probability of me damaging or losing a £10,000 camera are much higher than that of damaging or losing a £500 camera. After watching many reviews and looking at the major camera makers' websites, I came up with this... I wanted
Fuji's simplest camera with inter-changeable lenses that is good enough so I can't blame the camera for a bad pictureThat existed: it was the X-E4 that I still use now. And it's a nice bit of kit.
When it was time to trade in the Epiphone Les Paul Standard 50's, after thinking in terms of this and that and an SG, I realised that what I wanted was a
"7-lb Les Paul": two humbuckers and controls in parallel, meeting the selector switch, with a 24.5" scale length, for under £1,000There is no such Les Paul, but there is the PRS McCarty 594 SE, which the guys at GuitarGuitar in Epsom had in stock the day I visited. It too is a nice bit of kit I now own.
Recently I thought that it might be nice, as well as time, to move up to a Real Valve Amp. Fender of course. (Really? There are other amp makers? Who knew?) What I wanted was
a Fender valve amp that can be played at bedroom volumes at the edge of break-upwhich I knew to be ridiculous even as I thought about it. The 12W Princeton Reverb, the 5W VibroChamp, and never mind the 15W Blues Junior, are way too loud at natural break-up. However, I have mastered the art of getting snarly tones at around 70dB, so I don't need to rely on valve break-up. And I'm not going to be distracted by the Tonemasters and their power attenuators. Tonemasters sound almost like valve amps, but not quite. They are for pros who need to heft amps from gig to gig. Mine will be staying in one place. So the only choice is between the '65 and the '68 Princetons. The '68 has a more immediately appealing sound, but it's a little less well-defined than the '65, and I want that clean, clean sound.
So the '65 it is. GuitarGuitar do a 30-day return. What am I waiting for?
Around the same time, I wondered if I might to get a telephoto zoom for the X-E4. Like it or not, many of the good shots available in London do need to be picked out of the surrounding visual sludge by cropping or zooming. It happens that there is a very good third-party lens - the Tamron X-mount 17-70 - for the Fuji. If I were to get a telephoto zoom, and didn't want to pay Fuji prices, nor carry around the weight of solid-metal Fuji lenses, that would be the one. So I know what I need.
What am I waiting for?
I'm waiting for my inner Scrooge to stop telling me that with my appalling guitar skills, cack-handed photographic skills and warped eye for a picture, plus my unwillingness to actually go out and shoot pictures, I cannot "justify" the expense.
If I was a forty-year-old married man with a mortgage and two children needing private education, this might be a reasonable reservation.
But I'm not. I'm an older man on the last few laps. Possessing nice gear is one of the small pleasures of life, even if one doesn't use it as much or as well as a pro would. Heck, all of it can be sold on the second-hand market.
And I don't go on holidays. Now there's an expense I really can't justify.
If it ever happens, I'll let you know. And I'll try to get some culture under my belt to write about as well.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)