guitarcana

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-03-07T00:30:00.000-05:00

Think you know what you sound like? Record a gig or practice session, then listen back—at least 1 week later.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-03-07T00:19:00.002-05:00

When folks say "I can recognize [guitarist] in 1 note" it's often the player's vibrato that tells. Make yours personal.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-03-01T13:40:00.002-05:00

If you’ve been playing awhile, go back and listen to a guitar record you loved ages ago. What's there that you never noticed?

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-29T08:35:00.003-05:00

Don’t watch your hands. There's nothing to see there. Look around—at the audience, your fellow musicians, the scenery.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-28T08:41:00.002-05:00

Don’t let the Gear Jones fool you. If you're a good player, you'll be good on any guitar. If you're great, even better.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-27T10:04:00.002-05:00

When it’s solo/improv time, start with the song’s melody. There’s gold in them thar hills. Dig deep.

Here comes the Sun.

2012-02-26T12:57:00.000-05:00

Did I ever tell you about the time when my band went down to Memphis, TN, and recorded at the legendary Sun Studio? They asked us some questions—and then they shot us.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-26T09:42:00.002-05:00

Guitar tip of the day: Don't warm up with mechanics (e.g., scales). Instead, play music (composed or improvised)—slowly, with intention.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-24T10:02:00.001-05:00

Every once in awhile, let a note ring to its very last vibration. What a rare sound! Wait for it. Still ringing. Wait.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-23T09:44:00.000-05:00

Write the song that you want to hear.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-22T07:43:00.002-05:00

At home, keep your guitar handy at all times—not locked up in a case.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-21T09:10:00.000-05:00

Learn to read & write music. It’s not that hard, really, and will make so much more musical literature available to you.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-20T09:17:00.000-05:00

Anything worth practicing is worth practicing in different keys. (There are 12 major keys and 12 minor.)

Guitar Lessons with Adam Levy.

2012-02-19T10:10:00.000-05:00

New FB page here, for those interested in guitar lessons—in person (NYC area) or worldwide (via Skype video-chat).

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-19T09:16:00.003-05:00

If you gig standing up, stand while you practice. If you gig sitting down, sit while you practice.

Guitar Tip of the Day.

2012-02-18T11:07:00.002-05:00

As you play, listen like a listener. Ask yourself—what’s the very next note (or sound) that you’d like to hear?

Daddy Tang's belt.

2012-02-13T12:04:00.001-05:00

Have you ever seen the movie Pootie Tang? The title character is a do-gooding, crime-fighting badass, keeping villains in check with a few smacks of his belt. Midway through the story, the bad guys trick Pootie, drugging him and taking away his belt. He becomes distraught because he's convinced that the belt—inherited from his father—is the key to his special powers. His father's spirit comes to Pootie in a vision, assuring him there's nothing special about the belt and that he has always had the power to fight crime and do good—even without the leather strap. Long story short, Pootie Tang saves the day and gets his belt back, and things are more-or-less right in the world once more.

What does this have to do with guitar? Everything. I can't tell you how many times I've convinced myself that I absolutely had to have a new piece of gear because I needed it to achieve my sonic ideals. Likewise, I get pretty attached to the equipment I already have, believing that I can't get "my sound" without a particular guitar, or even strings. I'm not crazy-fussy about amplifiers, though, and am usually willing to use a venue's in-house amp—to avoid the hassle of schlepping my own. So long as an amp has a tube-based circuit, built-in reverb, and just one speaker, I'm happy. Imagine my surprise when I turned up at a recent gig and laid eyes on this amp-du-jour.

The Fender Stage 100 DSP head does offer reverb—via a digital processor—but has no tubes. And the speaker cabinet looked like something from a bad dream. I didn't panic. I plugged my guitar in and started twisting the knobs until I found a warm, medium-gain setting with ample midrange. (Midrange is important. Mid frequencies don't necessarily "sound" good, but they help the presence of an amp permeate the room more effectively.) Once I got it dialed in just right, I genuinely loved the sound of this jerry-rigged setup. The tone was clear and warm, and kept me inspired throughout our 3-hour gig. I never once missed my precious vintage Fender Princeton Reverb amp, nor my belt.

Q&A.

2012-02-10T22:15:00.000-05:00

Hey, fellow string-jugglers—it's Q&A time. I'll answer the first 5 guitar-related questions posted here. Ready? Go!

WFUV

2012-02-06T07:12:00.000-05:00

If you missed my interview and mini-concert on WFUV last week, you can check out the archive anytime. Thanks to Claudia Marshall and all the fine folks at FUV.

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs Part 12

2012-02-05T08:06:00.000-05:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 12—"Painting by Numbers"

You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page. Check out the YouTube video I recorded when the song was brand new.

THE GUITAR

I'm playing my lovely Martin OM-18V on this track, in standard tuning, with a capo at the fourth fret. I overdubbed the solo on producer/engineer Mark Orton's funky old National solidbody Reso-phonic (also heard on "There's a Light" and "This Is the Sound").

THE SONG

This song came to me from two directions at once. I really wanted to have a Willie Nelson-style ballad, so I tried to get into Willie's groove. (I'm not sure I succeeded. I got the 6/8 feel right, but "Painting by Numbers" is a whole lot wordier than, say, "So Much to Do." Ah, well.) The imagery in was inspired by an Edvard Munch painting I'd seen, called Self Portrait: Between Clock and Bed. To me, the scene feels rich with story—even though nothing much is happening. My first verse conjures Munch's painting:

Well, I made up the bed the way that she likes it
And I polished the floor till it shined so bright
Then I oiled the gears in the grandfather clock
And I put on my best suit of blue and green

Once I had that, the next verse came easily:

Oh, I bought her a pair of pearl earrings
She sat at the mirror for half of the night
Then she went into town to meet up with an old friend
If she ever said “thank you” it wasn’t to me

And then a chorus:

They’d all call my name from the sidewalk cafe
There goes the Rembrandt of Sullivan Street
Then I lost my touch and I miss it so much
It haunts me in my slumber
Look all around me, from floor to ceiling
The work that I’ve done, it can speak for itself
It’s the work of a man with a master’s hand
But tonight I’m just painting by numbers

This was the first—and only—song I've ever written about a painting. I think it's pretty good. Maybe I should write some more.

The Secret Room.

2012-02-01T06:53:00.000-05:00

My friends at Fretboard Journal just tweeted about Joe Gore's new project, called the Secret Room. Share your guitar tone tips with fellow fanatics. Looks very cool—no surprise. Joe is a brilliant musician, writer, and audio freak.

Shubb life.

2012-01-30T14:03:00.000-05:00

One of my students recently brought in a recording of a song he wanted to learn. When I listened, it was apparent that the guitarist on the CD was using a capo for this song. I reached for my Shubb and asked my student if he'd brought his capo. A funny look fell over his face. "A capo," he asked. "Isn't that cheating?"

Of course it's not cheating to use a capo to perform a song that was originally played using a capo. But is the capo merely a crutch for those to lazy to learn chords beyond the basic CAGED grips? I don't think so. I know lots and lots of chord shapes all over the fretboard, and still I use capos often—so often that I keep spares in every gig-bag just in case I show up for a gig without a capo in my pocket. And if I had to toss out all the CDs I own where great guitarists have used capos, I'd lose most of my Ry Cooder records as well as prized discs by Robert Johnson, James Taylor, Johnny "Guitar" Watson, and even Bill Frisell.

I understand where my student was coming from when he asked. I felt the same way for many years. Back then, I figured there was a lifetime of music and sound to discover on the guitar without capos, alternate tunings, extra strings, or other devices. My perspective has changed in the past decade or so. Playing Jesse Harris' songs in Norah Jones' band in the early 2000s, I had to use a capo. "Don't Know Why"—as originally recorded—is genuinely impossible without one. To keep my job, I had to make friends with Mister Shubb. When I started writing my own songs a few years later, I found it was a whole lot more fun to play in open-position keys like C and D, even though my voice was better suited to higher keys. With the capo, I can play C-position shapes in any key at all. When I play shows now, I'm using a capo on about half my my songs and using open tunings just as frequently—sometimes both on the same song.

There's no sin in doing whatever it takes to make the music you want to make, and there's nothing sacred about the standard EADGBE guitar tuning. Music and sound are wide-open fields. Why not explore every inch of the territory, and why not take your favorite tools along on the journey?

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs Part 11

2012-01-29T22:39:00.008-05:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 11—"Promised Land"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

Once again, I'm playing producer/engineer Mark Orton's incredible 1939 Martin D-18. The tuning is open D (D, A, D, F#, A, D, low to high). Mark played a sweet Dobro solo before the final verse.

THE SONG

I didn't set out to write a song about my big-eared, piano-playing Grandma Jenny. It came out rather unexpectedly. I just wanted to write a song called "Promised Land" and I had the loose idea that a familial home could feel like the Promised Land. As with many of the songs on this album, I had a particular form and rhyme scheme I wanted to use. I don't even remember what the scheme is, but check it out and you'll find that all the verses to this song are consistent in their shape. That sort of form-based writing was the primary area of exploration for me while crafting songs for The Heart Collector. Somehow, these pedantic exercises led me to several very personal songs.

To set the record completely straight, I must fess up that I did not have a Grandma Jenny who played piano. The real pianist in my family was my grandfather, George Wyle. I learned so much about music from him. He was a professional arranger and composer, working in television throughout the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s. We made a record together in 2000—many years after he had "retired." It's called With My Guitar and You.

Gorgeous poster.

2012-01-09T12:07:00.000-05:00

A kick-ass design by Brian Manley.

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs Part 10

2011-12-24T09:07:00.002-05:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 10—"This Is the Sound (Coda)"

You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

I played producer/engineer Mark Orton's funky old Stella tenor guitar for this track—tuned like the high four strings of a regular guitar, down a half step (Db, Gb, Bb, Eb, low to high). Note that this is a different guitar and a different tuning from "This Is the Sound" earlier on the album.

THE SONG

The story of the song itself can be found in my earlier post about "This Is the Sound." The fun part on this "coda" is the stuff Mark overdubbed on the ride-out—bass harmonica and Marxophone. When I sing "This Is the Sound" in my live shows, I usually keep it all in one piece. I'll break it up, every once in awhile, as bookends around "The Heart Collector."

The sound of no sound

2011-12-19T10:34:00.000-05:00

It's not necessary to fill up all the empty spaces when you're playing music. The stuff you play may be the stuff, or it may be the frame around the stuff. It may be the bun, or the meat, or the cheese, or the lettuce, or the onions, or the secret sauce. When you silence your strings for a moment or two, what do you hear? What do the other musicians hear? What does the audience hear?

Adam Levy & the Mint Imperials at Joe's Pub

2011-12-14T09:47:00.000-05:00

I could not be more stoked about a gig than I am about this one—playing with my band, in this great room, with two of my favorite musicians opening the show. Please join us for this sweet-hot night of song.

Adam Levy & the Mint Imperials
w/ special guests The Mastersons
Wednesday, 8 February
9:30 p.m.
Joe's Pub

Tickets available right here

Christmas song.

2011-12-07T12:03:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends, Fans, and Family,

I wrote this Christmas song last year, and nearly forgot about it altogether. Yikes! I remembered—just in time. Click here to enjoy.

All the best to you and yours,
~Adam

News items, from the desk of Adam Levy

2011-12-06T10:39:00.002-05:00

News items, from the desk of Adam Levy. (And a nice old desk it is.)

This Friday, 9 December, I’ll be playing a solo show Open Space Gallery in Beacon, New York. See http://local845.com/ for details.

Saturday, 10 December, I’ll be on Live Yurt Radio—broadcasting from an actual yurt in Amherst, Massachusetts. Details here: http://www.wix.com/liveyurtradio/liveyurtradio. I’ll be on sometime after 5 p.m. EST. I’ll tweet (@stringjuggler) when I know more exact details.

Sunday, 11 December, Jim Campilongo and I will be playing at the 55 Bar in New York City. For more info, see http://www.55bar.com/.

The Heart Collector got a very nice review in the December 2011 issue of Guitar Player magazine:

On his latest recording Levy plays jazzy acoustic guitar and sings in a mildly Jackson Browne by way of Andy Williams manner, occasionally backed by a string quartet, vibraphonist/accordionist Rob Burger, and multi-instrumentalist Mark Orton. The 13 well-crafted tunes span the introspective to the whimsical, and nothing short of electroshock treatment could dislodge the hooks from your memory. —GP http://www.guitarplayer.com/

And another nice one in Music & Musicians:

In Adam Levy’s hands, even murder ballads make for warm, easy listening. On the title track, he describes in suspicious detail a serial killer’s exploits. Levy’s narrator might be the guilty party, or in a metaphorical sense, he might just sympathize with the “cardiophile” and his hunger for human hearts. Either way, it’s a rare moment of darkness from this former Norah Jones guitarist. Levy specializes in genial acoustic folk-pop, and on highlights “This Is the Sound” and “Promised Land”—both about the joys of making music—he’s more concerned with telling good stories than crafting tidy rhymes or choruses. If his melodies don’t bore into the brain, he leaves his mark in subtler ways. —M&M http://mmusicmag.com/

Want more? Follow my blog at http://guitarcana.blogspot.com/, and my Twitter feed at http://twitter.com/stringjuggler.

Thank you.

Spotify, etc.

2011-12-06T10:27:00.000-05:00

Maybe I'm just an old crank—at 45 years of age. I'm still feeling kind of
stuck about the whole Spotify concept. Will it be good for artists? Good for fans? Good for the growth of music? Good for the music biz? Too soon to tell. Really, it is too soon to tell.

I am a musician. I've released several albums on my own indie label. I've played—as a sideman—on several major-label recordings. I'm also a music fan. I've been buying records ever since I had my own money (from a paper route). I can appreciate the Utopian dream of streaming music, but I don't actually like it. I have a slow musical metabolism, I guess. All the music ever made, right here at my fingertips? No thanks. I'd rather pick one record I like, and spend the whole weekend listening to it over and over. Aha—but I can do that too with Spotify. Yes, but it's just not the same to my sensibilities. I like the finite nature of an LP or CD, and 45-rpm singles too. There's a sense of mystery in the finite. Infinity is less
mysterious, because you know it's all right there and you can get to it. And you never even have to get up to flip the record over.

I used to like going to record stores, back when there were some. I prefer going out to the movies, rather than watching a stream on my laptop. I like strolling around a good bookstore, more so than I like shopping for books online. Not to say that I don't use these services. I have accounts with Spotify, Netflix, and Amazon. There's no arguing with the convenience. But as an experience? I'm still an analog guy.

I took a writing workshop with Lynda Barry a few years ago. She had dozens of 3x5 cards pinned up all over the walls of the classroom. I often think of one in particular that said, "Do you want to do it, or do you want to get it done?" Most of the time, I want to do it. For me, the process is the project. When absolutely everything is streaming, there is no process. Just clicking.

~Grumpy Old Man in Manhattan

Get Rhythm.

2011-12-05T13:20:00.002-05:00

Ry Cooder’s name is nearly synonymous with slide guitar, and deservedly so: Cooder has released dozens of slide-laden albums since his eponymous debut in 1970. He has also scored several films—most notably Paris, Texas—that feature his bottleneck work prominently. This 1973 clip, from British TV, showcases Cooder’s slide prowess in open-D tuning.

I’ve been digging Ry Cooder’s music for as long as I’ve been playing guitar, thanks to an uncle of mine with a great record collection. Cooder has been a big influence, even though I almost never play slide. One thing that impression on me early on is his beyond-borders, mix-and-match approach to making records. He has never been a purist, stylistically. There’s blues at the core—but also Dust Bowl-era folk songs, Bahamian calypso, and early jazz too. Here, he plays an old Woodie Guthrie song as a Tex-Mex polka.

Beyond his slide chops and stylistic breadth, however, the aspect of Cooder’s musicianship that I appreciate the most his rhythm guitar playing. In this 1977 clip, from another UK television show, he plays Lead Belly’s “Goodnight Irene” (aka “Irene Goodnight”). As he often did in that era, Cooder plays in open-G tuning. (With his capo at 2nd fret, the tuning is transposed to open-A.) I love how his part—played with thumb-pick and bare fingers—totally supports the vocal melody and sits deep in the groove with bass and drums. Here’s another cool clip from the same show.

Though these video clips are all from the 1970s, Cooder has continued to make great music as a solo artist in more recent years. He has also shined brightly as a featured sideman—on John Hiatt’s 1987 album Bring the Family, for example—and as a world-music ambassador, recording with Malian guitarist Ali Farka Touré (Talking Timbuktu), Indian guitarist V.M. Bhatt (A Meeting by the River), and an ensemble of great Cuban musicians (Buena Vista Social Club). In every context, his gifts as a rhythm player—an accompanist, I should say—equal or outshine his bottleneck mojo.

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs Part 9

2011-12-04T11:06:00.006-05:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 9—"When I Lose Myself"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

The lone guitar here is producer/engineer Mark Orton's 1939 Martin D-18, in open-G# tuning (D#, G#, D#, G#, B#, D#, low to high). I honestly can't remember whether I tuned the guitar that way, or tuned to open-G and put a capo at the 1st fret.

THE SONG

This is one of two instrumental tracks on the album. It was Mark Orton who suggested we record these to help break up the general sameness of the sound of this record—most tracks are just one vocal, one guitar. Rather than composing two new instrumentals, I based these pieces on two of the vocal tunes on The Heart Collector. "Before Dinner Begins" is a reworking of "Would It Really Be a Sin" and "When I Lose Myself" is "There's a Light" from a different angle.

I used the open tuning for "When I Lose Myself" to help me re-imagine the music, and to keep my hands out of the familiar shapes I'd used for "There's a Light." I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope it comes across in the recording. I was bashing away at the old Martin, smiling all the while. The title refers to that ecstatic state of losing myself in the musical moment—and is also lifted from the lyric to "There's a Light."

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs Part 8

2011-11-25T00:43:00.002-05:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 8—"Would It Really Be a Sin"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

The main guitar here is my late-model Martin OM-18V, in D-modal tuning (D, A, D, G, B, D, low to high). I overdubbed a second track—same guitar—for the instrumental section in the middle. We re-amped the second guitar track through one of Mark Orton's amps, and put some tremolo on it.

THE SONG

This song is, essentially, about questioning the rules. Who says the man with the ball can't travel? Who says we can't eat the cake before dinner begins?

Review in 'Guitar Player' magazine

2011-11-20T11:09:00.000-05:00

My CD The Heart Collector is reviewed in the December 2011 issue of GP.

On his latest recording Levy plays jazzy acoustic guitar and sings in a mildly Jackson Browne by way of Andy Williams manner, occasionally backed by a string quartet, vibraphonist/accordionist Rob Burger, and multi-instrumentalist Mark Orton. The 13 well-crafted tunes span the introspective to the whimsical, and nothing short of electroshock treatment could dislodge the hooks from your memory.

I've been reading this magazine for 30 years, and intermittently writing and editing for them for the past 15. Still, it thrills me to see my name inked in the magazine—not as a byline. Thanks, old friend, for making me feel young.

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs Part 7

2011-11-08T14:21:00.005-05:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 7—"No Dancing"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

The guitar I'm playing here is, once more, producer/engineer Mark Orton's mid-1950s solidbody National Reso-Phonic. The vibraphone and accordion were overdubbed by Rob Burger. Mark Orton overdubbed guitar in the chorus sections (the little guitar line that answers each vocal line—"No Watusi" and so on).

THE SONG

From 2007 through 2009, I played a weekly residency with my band at a club in NYC called Banjo Jim's. Banjo Jim's, sadly, recently closed. While they were still open, they had a neighbor who regularly complained to the cops about the noise level and also about illicit dancing. It's not like there was any dirty dancing going on. In fact, I don't recall ever seeing any dancing there at all. Still, every New York establishment that allows dancing needs a cabaret license, and they can get fined if they don't have the license. Police aren't likely to raid a place for this, but any uppity douche-bag can get a club owner in serious trouble just by picking up the phone and anonymously calling the cops to report the alleged dancing.

And so, one night I showed up for our weekly gig and saw several homemade signs taped up all over the inside of Banjo Jim's. The authorities had come down on the club's owner, Banjo Lisa, and dear Lisa wanted to avoid any further trouble. I felt sad and angry when I saw these signs. First of all, I believe dancing should be unregulated. Secondly, if the city grants you a liquor license and allows live music in your venue, what do they expect? Gather a crowd of music lovers, pour them some drinks, and let the band play on—the folks might just feel like dancing, mightn't they? Requiring a separate license for that just seems like red tape for red tape's sake.

This episode—and the signs, in particular—got me thinking about how upside-down the world would be if they actually outlawed dancing altogether. The next day, I put pen to paper and made a list of backward and odd-ball things—"a watermelon with no rind, a dictionary for the blind, a staring contest for the blind," punctuating each rhyming triplet with the line "the day the dancing stopped." Before I knew it, a catchy little song was taking shape. Best of all, it was eminently danceable.

I finished writing "No Dancing" in February 2010, while on a working trip to Sun Valley, Idaho. I recorded this quick-and-dirty demo in my hotel room, on my laptop, playing my unamplified electric guitar. Uranus was in retrograde.

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs, Part 6

2011-10-30T09:53:00.003-04:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 6—"There's a Light"

You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

The guitar I'm playing here is producer/engineer Mark Orton's mid-1950s solidbody National Reso-Phonic. The other instruments—Dobro, pump organ, and mystery bass—were overdubbed later by Mark.

THE SONG

This song was written a few years ago, before I'd started work on The Heart Collector, when my pal Geoff Martyn invited me over to his native Scotland for a few days of co-writing at his family's house in Campbeltown. The house was empty and in a somewhat remote location—a perfect setting for a writing retreat. Geoff and I agreed from the get-go that we would keep things simple. We'd build our songs from just a handful of common chords, and we'd use familiar song forms—nothing too clever. We rolled up our sleeves, knuckled down, and finished three or four songs in as many days.

With our goals achieved, we headed back to Geoff's Glasgow flat in the late afternoon of our last day together. I would be flying to Copenhagen the next morning, from Glasgow. Sitting around Geoff's kitchen table, we sipped whiskey and listened to the demo recordings we'd made in Campbeltown. The songs still sounded good and fresh to our ears. After we'd listened through, and had another whisky or two, we took up our guitars once more. We had no thoughts of doing any more writing—it just felt natural to strum a little while we chatted. Before we knew it, we were trading ad-libbed verses back and forth over a little three-chord ditty, and soon enough it felt like a song. We added a bridge section to break up the repetition, and that was that.

I recently rediscovered our demo for "There's a Light" (originally titled "Never Gonna"), recorded in Geoff Martyn's kitchen, 23 December 2007. You can listen here. It is markedly slower than the way I recorded the song for The Heart Collector. The biggest difference between our Glasgow demo and my album version, however, is that it's Geoff's show here. He handles the lead vocal and main picking part. I play a secondary rhythm part, take a little solo just before the bridge section, and sing high harmonies in the bridge.

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs, Part 5

2011-10-20T20:12:00.004-04:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 5—"Before Dinner Begins"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

Once again, I'm playing producer/engineer Mark Orton's 1939 Martin dreadnaught, tuned down a half-step from standard (Eb, Ab, Db, Gb, Bb, Eb).

THE SONG

"Before Dinner Begins" is actually my song "Would It Really Be a Sin" reimagined as a delicate instrumental piece. I tuned the D-18 down a half-step to get myself into a fresh headspace, beyond the song's original lyricized version—which is in the key of D. Here I'm playing in D, but it sounds and feels like Db. I pushed and pulled the harmony a little bit, but it's not all that different from the original.

It was Mark's idea to try a couple of instrumentals on this record. He thought it would help us later on in the process, when it came time to put the songs in a running order for the CD. His instinct was right. We used "Before Dinner Begins" and "When I Lose Myself" to break up the relative sameness of the rest of the songs—which are, for the most part, one voice plus one guitar.

In addition to being a brilliant producer and sound engineer, Mark is a badass guitarist, composer, and arranger. You can hear his Dobro skills on my songs "Promised Land" and "There's a Light" on The Heart Collector, and he wrote the string arrangements for "The Heart Collector" and "Let These Stories Sleep." Here's Mark with his group Tin Hat, performing live at McCabe's.

Lead guitar.

2011-10-10T21:40:00.004-04:00

One of my guitar students recently wanted to discuss strategies for "stepping into" a guitar solo, coming out of playing rhythm guitar earlier in the song. That got me thinking about some of my favorite recorded guitar solos—ones that start strong and sustain interest throughout. Here are a few that immediately came to mind. These aren't necessarily my all-time favorite guitar solos, just a handful that seem pretty perfect to me right about now.

Pretenders (Robbie McIntosh, lead guitar)
"Middle of the Road" (from Learning to Crawl)—solo starts 01:39
White-hot from the get-go.

Los Lobos (David Hidalgo, lead guitar)
"The Neighborhood" (from The Neighborhood)—solo starts 01:37
Just some nasty, nasty blues.

Booker T. & the MG's (Steve Cropper, lead guitar)

"Hip Hug-Her" (from Hip Hug-Her)—solo starts 01:08

Simple, thematic, unflagging.

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers (Mike Campbell, lead guitar)

"Listen to Her Heart" (from You're Gonna Get It!)—solo starts 01:50

Emphatically melodic—relating to the song's vocal melody—with a cool jangly tone.

John Hiatt (Ry Cooder, lead guitar)

"Lipstick Sunset" (from Bring the Family)—solo starts 01:34

Great slow-burn slide solo. Cooder's in no hurry.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse (Neil Young, lead guitar)

"Powderfinger" (from Rust Never Sleeps)—solo starts 01:48

Fearless and majestic.

Down Home in-store.

2011-10-09T21:23:00.002-04:00

Todd Sickafoose and I played an in-store show at Down Home Music this past weekend. Down Home is the best indie record store I know of, bar none. Todd and I mostly played songs from my CD The Heart Collector, plus a few other numbers—including an obscure Tom Waits cover and a jingle I recently penned for a Japanese blueberry jam commercial. I think I can safely say: A good time was had by all who joined us.

Here's a video of Todd and me playing "I Wish I Could Change Your Mind." The recording starts halfway into the first verse. Sorry about that.

Thanks for supporting live music in your town!

~Adam

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs, Part 4

2011-10-09T10:15:00.005-04:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 4—"The Heart Collector"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

The main guitar here is my 2005 Martin OM-18V, tuned to open D minor (D, A, D, F, A, D). This is the same tuning I used on "This Is the Sound"—but a half-step higher. Blues enthusiasts may know this as the "Skip James tuning," as James used it for his recording of "Devil Got My Woman."

THE SONG

"The Heart Collector" proved to me, once again, that an interesting title can be a great place to start writing from. I borrowed this title from Sam Phillips' song "Edge of the World" (from her album Fan Dance). In the first verse, she sings:

I don't remember last night but they took my picture
There was a car in the ocean off of Suicide Bridge
The heart collector had his hands on me
At the edge of the world looking up

She mentions him just this once—he never returns in her narrative. I got to wondering who this "heart collector" might be, and what else he might get up to. I put pen to paper, and let the words fall where they may. Sort of.

While writing most of the songs for The Heart Collector, I was experimenting with different meters and rhyme structures—with the hope of getting out of my usual song-form habits and into some new schemes. For the verses in this song, I decided—arbitrarily—to use this form:

A (9 beats)

B (8 beats)

A (9 beats)

B (8 beats)

C (11 beats)

D (11 beats)

E (11 beats)

C (11 beats)

Here's my first verse. I hope you'll see how it follows the proscribed form:

There was a girl so fair and ginger

She used to work the picture show

Until the night she stayed too late there

And all the regulars went home

She was getting high in the projection room

Watching Betty Grable, 'Down Argentine Way'

Candy by the handful with her eyes half closed

Milk Duds hit the floor when he lowered the boom

Okay—show and home don't make a perfect rhyme, but they're similar enough in sound.

I don't claim to be an expert on poetry. I know just enough to keep myself amused, and to keep pushing myself to try different forms so that—hopefully—my songs don't all sound the same. I hadn't thought about songwriting this way at all until a few years ago, when I took a poetry class led by Marie Ponsot at the New School. Ponsot is a wonderful poet and a very special teacher. I was surprised, at first, by her emphasis on form. It seemed too pedantic. But as I got into writing withing strict forms, I noticed that I could tap into more dream-like, subconscious material more easily. My writing process became more about creative puzzle-solving and less about trying to generate ideas by sheer force of will.

SoundCloud

2011-10-01T07:02:00.001-04:00

Do I have a SoundCloud page? Yes, I do. Just starting to add things now—home demos, live clips, etc. Any requests?

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs, Part 3

2011-09-30T19:03:00.013-04:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 3—"This Is the Sound"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

The main guitar here is producer/engineer Mark Orton's 1939 Martin D-18, tuned to open C# minor (C#, G#, C#, E, G#, C#). I overdubbed the solo (starting at 2:12) with Mark's funky solidbody National Reso-Phonic, tuned a half-step down from standard (D#, G#, C#, F#, A#, D#).

THE SONG

Like many of the songs on The Heart Collector, I began writing "This Is the Sound" with little more than a title in mind. The title was borrowed from a Juliana Hatfield song, from her 1993 Become What You Are album. That title has always struck me as strong and suggestive. I began writing my "This Is the Sound" without any particular narrative agenda. As the stream-of-consciousness verses took shape, I found I was writing from the point of view of someone older—someone who has been performing much longer than they ever thought they would be. It's pretty novel for me to write from the point of view of a character other than myself, the way Tom Waits and Randy Newman do so deftly. I was happy to follow the Muses as far down that road as they were keen to go. When the dust finally settled, I had five meaty verses—replete with references to Icarus, Caruso, and (obliquely) Henry Fonda. (Thank you, Muses!) It was producer/engineer Mark Orton's idea to chop off my last verse—the one about Icarus—and make it a separate track, appearing later on the disc. It was a great, playful idea.

I don't know how common it is for folks to listen to a CD in its entirety, but Mark and I sequenced The Heart Collector in a way that we hoped would be particularly rewarding for anyone listening straight through, top to bottom. Check it out if you have a long drive ahead—or a tax return to complete. 13 songs in all, clocking in at 46:38 total time.

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs, Part 2

2011-09-23T22:53:00.016-04:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs

Part 2—"A Promise to California"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITAR

The guitar here is producer/engineer Mark Orton's 1939 Martin D-18, tuned to open G (D, G, D, G, B, D), with a capo at the second fret.

THE SONG

This song—like many on The Heart Collector—started with a title. Good titles aren't easy to come by, so when I come across one I like, one I don't mind stealing it. This particular title comes from a Walt Whitman poem of the same name.

A promise to California,
Or inland to the great pastoral Plains, and on to Puget sound and Oregon;
Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel toward you, to remain,
to teach robust American love,
For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you,
inland, and along the Western sea;
For these States tend inland and toward the Western sea, and I will also.

I only borrowed the title. The protagonist in my song is not based on Whitman, nor was the storyline inspired by his poem. My lyric is about a young man, born in Texas, who travels west to strike it rich in California. ("Eureka—I have found it" is the state motto.) He meets a band of likeminded fellows. They indeed find their fortune, then travel the world—sprinkling a little bit of the California spirit everywhere they go. The lyric was written very quickly in a stream-of-consciousness way. When I went back and looked at it later, it sort of seemed to be about Don Henley. How I got from Whitman to Henley, I couldn't tell you.

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs, Part 1

2011-09-20T21:46:00.005-04:00

The Heart Collector: The Stories Behind the Songs
Part 1—"I Wish I Could Change Your Mind"
You can hear this song—and the rest of The Heart Collector—on my bandcamp page.

THE GUITARS
The main guitar is an 1890 Martin Size 1 that belongs to producer/engineer Mark Orton. I overdubbed the solo with Mark's Stella archtop tenor guitar—vintage unknown—tuned like the top four strings of a regular guitar (D, G, B, E).

THE SONG
Most of the songs on The Heart Collector were written in the first few months of 2010. "I Wish I Could Change Your Mind" came from an earlier batch of songs crafted at a 2008 co-writing retreat in Wales. I was working with Neill MacColl and Natalia "Tali" Sheppard on the day I co-wrote this song. We wanted to write something in the classic Tin Pan Alley model. The title came to us first and then we built the verses—each verse ending with the title line. We went to a different key for the bridge, as is often done in songs of this style. But rather than coming back to the original key for the last 8 bars, we just stayed in the new key—a half-step up from where the song begins. It's a neat trick that happened by accident. We sang our new song that night for the other songwriters at the retreat. Here's the recording of that performance—with Neill (harmony vocals & lead guitar) and Tali (harmony vocals). I'm proud of the version on The Heart Collector of course, but the original is very sweet indeed.

Is it windy in here?

2011-09-13T08:54:00.000-04:00

After four sweet days in the Pacific Northwest, my Martin and I are off to Chicago this morning for two shows in the area—tonight at Evanston SPACE with Ernie Halter; tomorrow at Martyrs' with Kitty Devine and Wait What?

Details, details ...

September 13th, 2011 8:00 p.m.
Evanston Space
Adam Levy solo
opening for Ernie Halter
1245 Chicago Ave.
Evanston, IL

September 14th, 2011 — 8:00 p.m.
Martyr's
Adam Levy solo [benefit for St. Andrew School]
3855 N. Lincoln Ave.
Chicago, IL

If you don't happen to live in Chicago, *please* pass this along to someone who does.

Many thanks,
~Adam

Tripping on wires.

2011-08-30T12:21:00.000-04:00

I'm on tour now, as I mentioned in my most recent post. One of the elements of touring that I most enjoy is stumbling upon new music—new to me, at least—along the way. I get recommendations from friends and fans, and sometimes I just happen to land a lucky catch in a local record shop. So far, two great albums have come my way, and I'm enjoying the hell out of them. One is the newly released Rockpile album, Live at Montreux 1980. The band is at the top of their game, playing genuine rock-and-roll with boundless energy. Guitarist Billy Bremner is particularly hot throughout, and this record makes me wonder how I've overlooked him for so long. I've got some catching up to do.

The other record I've been tripping on is Mbo Loza, by guitarist D'Gary from Madagascar. His music confounds me. It's beautiful and burbling, and he plays with fantastic skill, yet I really have no idea how he does what he does. It's thrilling to hear someone playing the same instrument I do, taking it in a direction I've never explored or even considered.

What are you listening to?

I'm hitting the road, Jack.

2011-08-24T10:33:00.000-04:00

Just a quick note to let you know that I'll be touring across the U.S. for the next few weeks, promoting my latest CD The Heart Collector. For dates and details, click here.

Thanks, as always, for supporting live music in your town.

Don't just do something, sit there.

2011-08-11T09:38:00.002-04:00

Listening to recordings of my favorite guitarists this week—discs by Bill Frisell and Eric Gale, Cornell Dupree on an Aretha Franklin album, and a Booker T. & the MGs record with Steve Cropper—it struck me that all four of these players use left-hand vibrato sparingly. You'll hear a little shimmy here and there, but I don't think of it as a prominent feature of their playing. This got me thinking back to a duo album I made several years ago my grandfather—pianist George Wyle. When the only two instruments are guitar and piano, guitar vibrato really stands out because such a thing is impossible on the piano. In the process of recording that album, I decided to mostly do away with vibrato and to focus on pure melodic intention instead. Now, more than 10 years since that recording session with my grandfather, I still find myself chipping away extraneous vibrato and wondering whether it's possible to be expressive on the the instrument while using none at all.

In the Intervals.

2011-05-26T13:26:00.002-04:00

Traditional 3-part harmony works like this. Take any 7-note scale—a C major scale, for example—and play the 1st, 3rd, and 5th notes all at the same time. There you have a C major triad—a C major chord in three notes. Those three notes are C, E, and G. You can reshuffle them anyway you like—G, C, E (low to high), E, C, G (low to high), and so on—and you're still playing some kind of C major chord. These variations are sometimes called "voicings" or "inversions."

Coming back to our original C major triad—C, E, G—one way to analyze this 3-note collective is as two 2-note groups stuck together (C and E; E and G). The interval from C up to E is called a major 3rd (a distance of four half-steps, or four frets on the guitar). From E up to G is a minor 3rd (three half-steps). That formula—major 3rd + minor 3rd—holds true for every major triad.

We can find all of the triads within the C major scale by applying this stacked-3rds formula to each note of the scale. The scale itself is C, D, E, F, G, A, B. We've already built our C major chord. The remainder are D minor (D, F, A), E minor (E, G, B), F major (F, A, C), G major (G, B, D), A minor (A, C, E), and B diminished (B, D, F). Note that the quality of the chords changes as the types of major and minor 3rds are combined. We get major triads (major 3rd + minor 3rd) for the C, F, and G chords. We get minor triads (minor 3rd + major 3rd) for the D, E, and A chords. We get a diminished triad (minor 3rd + minor 3rd) for the B chord. And, as with our original C major triad, the notes of any of these other chords can be assembled without changing the essential nature of their quality.

So far, we've only considered the architecture of chords built in thirds, but you can use all kinds of intervals to create less conventional sounds. For example, what if you stacked two 4ths? (This is sometimes called "quartal" harmony.) Building upon the note C, using the C major scale as our material, our chord would be spelled C, F, B (low to high). Moving through the scale, we'd get D, G, C, then E, A, D, and so on. You may wonder what such chord shapes are called, but there really is no easy way to label them. Once we leave stacked 3rds system behind, the name game gets considerably harder—so much so that I don't even try.

Don't stop at 4ths! You can stack other interval types—in any combination. The only limitations are your hands (shapes must be playable) and your ears (sounds must have some appeal to your sensibilities). If you want to explore this interval-based approach to guitar harmony a little deeper, check out this lesson on YouTube. You may also want to check out my previous lesson, about memorizing the notes on the fretboard.

My first guitar.

2011-05-08T12:34:00.000-04:00

When I was 12-and-a-half years old, my father generously asked me what kind of guitar I'd like to have—as a gift for my upcoming Bar Mitzvah. Unlike many lads of that age, my musical tastes were not particularly rock-minded. My record collection at that time consisted of a few Beatles albums plus an assortment of guitar-centric disks—things by Ry Cooder, Joe Pass, and Chet Atkins, for example. So, when my dad asked what kind of guitar I wanted, I selected a fairly grown-up instrument—a Gibson ES-335 in a dark walnut stain. I named her Esther. I'd only been playing a few years, so this was definitely a guitar to grow into.

I've bought and sold several fine guitars over the years but always held onto this one. At the height of Norah Jones' popularity—when Blue Note could hardly print enough copies of Come Away with Me to keep up with sales—one fan offered me $25,000 for this guitar. Thanks, but no thanks.

Around 2005, I bought another ES-335—sunburst—built in 1963 or '64. It's a fantastic instrument and in many ways a "better" guitar than my trusty 1979 model. I sort of retired my '79 for a few years while getting to know my more recent acquisition. But, more recently, I dusted off my old brown friend and found that she sounded better than ever. I strung her up with a fresh set of D'Addario .012-gauge flat-wounds and whoosh, Esther was gig ready.

Here she is, in action, from a recent show at Rockwood Music Hall in NYC.

I'm so glad to be getting reacquainted with my dear old friend, who has been with me for so long, through all sorts of ups and downs—musical and personal. 32 years later, I still feel like I'm growing into this guitar.

Harvest drums.

2011-04-11T15:07:00.000-04:00

Ever check out the drums on Neil Young's Harvest? Neil apparently asked drummer Kenny Buttrey to not play any hi-hat—actually to do nothing at all with his right hand. Without the constant hi-hat rhythm—requisite in most styles of pop and rock—there's more room for other things to happen on those beats and in those frequencies. I've been taking a similar approach to rhythm guitar in my band lately, playing as sparsely as possible so that the music as a whole has more space, more dynamics, and more collective momentum.

The Perfect Gig.

2011-04-04T15:55:00.000-04:00

Ask any working musician to name their favorite venue. They're likely to mention a bar with cozy ambiance (and/or a particularly generous bartender), a room with great acoustics, or someplace with a regular crowd who gets it. Most likely, they're not going to name a big-box electronics store. But I'm telling you, friends—I had one of the most fun gigs ever this past Sunday, at the Best Buy near Lincoln Center, with bassist Andy Hess and percussionist Josh Dion. I can't say the room was acoustically special, or that the PA (one of those Bose systems with the towering column) was great, or that we had many diehard fans cheering us on. (We had a few.) I guess it was so fun because we came to have fun. We were enjoying ourselves, and that drew some Sunday shoppers in so they could listen long enough to start to enjoy themselves.

At one point there was a young boy standing at the side of our stage, with his frisky Golden Retriever puppy. And then an off-duty Elvis impersonator walked in, with the most ballin' pompadour of all time. And still, we had a good crowd watching us. When your competition is Elvis and a puppy—and the crowd's eyes are still on you—you know you're doing something right.

Turns out Viv Savage was right: "Have... a good time... all the time."

Influences, and beyond.

2011-03-31T21:02:00.004-04:00

After my shows, I often get questions about my style of guitar playing—in particular, who my influences are. Some are obvious, I guess. Yes, I have listened to a lot of Bill Frisell and John Scofield, and I also love Jeff Beck, Jim Hall, and Ry Cooder. These guys are the players I listened to most throughout my 20s and early 30s. I'm in my mid 40s now, and I still find gold in them thar' hills.

There are many great modern-day guitarists, playing beautifully and innovatively, and I try to check out new players whenever I can. Have you heard Noël Akchoté? Or Michael Daves? Or Jakob Bro? I also find myself going back to the 1950s, '60s, and '70s, trying to fill in the gaps in my historical knowledge. The guitar tracks that I'm most excited by lately are George Barnes' rendition of "Little Rock Getaway" (so swinging and articulate), Snooks Eaglin's "Funky Malagueña" (personalizing a well-worn chestnut and clearly enjoying himself), Al Anderson's "You're Just Laughing Inside" (bare-naked Tele tone, soulful phrasing), and Otis Redding's "Ton of Joy"—with Steve Cropper on guitar (matching Redding's toughness and joyfulness).

I'm still as much a guitar fan now as I was when I was just starting. That excitement—sometimes to the point of giddiness—is one of the things that keeps me coming back to the instrument day after day, week after week, year after year. It keeps the calluses on my fingers and a smile on my face, and my I'm grateful for it.

What keeps you picking and grinning?

13 Questions

2011-03-31T19:55:00.000-04:00

13 Questions is an ongoing interview feature at my website. I just posted two new 13Q interviews—with Brooklyn-based guitarist Rich Hinman and Jason Loughlin. Both Rich and Jason have lots of interesting things to say about gigging, recording, and cheap guitars.

'The Heart Collector' is available now ...

2011-02-15T09:39:00.002-05:00

... for your listening pleasure.

iTunes: http://goo.gl/pdOpA
Bandcamp: http://goo.gl/Xmpw2

Thanks for listening.

~Adam

Movin’ Wes

2011-02-13T11:56:00.001-05:00

In 1998, while I was writer at Guitar Player magazine, they decided to run a feature story on Wes Montgomery. My editor asked me to contact guitar great Ted Greene, a devoted a Wes scholar, for some insights. (I had studied with Ted in the late ’80s and early ’90s.) Ted composed a 9-page, hand-written article about Wes’ 1964 album Movin’ Wes. Ted's piece followed the recording track by track, in amazing detail, with a mixture of pedantic discourse and near-religious fervor. I loved every word of this story, but—to my chagrin—it was deemed it too long for publication in GP. An edited version appeared in the mag. You can read the entire piece, unedited, here.

Dear John.

2011-02-02T21:50:00.000-05:00

Hats off to John Scofield for sticking to his guns. The January 2011 issue of Guitar Player features this exchange between Scofield and a well-meaning interviewer, discussing his new album 54.

GP: It seems that the first track, "Carlos," is basically a D minor vamp, and that you're mainly soloing in the Dorian mode until the turnaround changes come, at which point your runs become more involved. Can you explain what's going on at that point?

JS: You've got to play through the chord changes, but I don't think distinctly in Dorian during the vamp because there are notes in between. The Dorian mode is really just a scale. There's more to what I play, but I can't really talk about it because you've got to hear that stuff.

Then, a couple of questions later, regarding a different tune—

GP: Can you explain what you play during the chromatic-sounding head melody that follows?

JS: There's nothing to explain. You just need to check out the notes, and they are what they are.

GP: I know it's difficult, but can you take a shot at describing some of the fantastic moves you make—whether they are pieces of chords, or chromatic notes—that take your playing beyond the box, but not too far out?

JS: I won't describe them. I'm not going to oversimplify what has been my life's work, which is to develop a vocabulary in jazz. You learn licks, phrases, and songs, and then you try to piece together what you've learned tastefully so that you don't sound like you are regurgitating licks. You listen to what's going on for inspiration, and if you trust your own mind and instinct, then you will come up with another idea. On 54 I found it easy to have something to say because there was a lot of input from the orchestra. Eventually, you realize that you've said enough, and then it's time to shut up and end your solo.

And, later in the interview—

JS: I hope I didn't come across as rude when I was waxing on about how you can't explain licks and stuff like that. It's just a pet peeve of mine. I realize that's part of what the magazine does, but for me it's a little too close to "jazz guitar in ten easy steps." I won't dumb it down because I think smart people are going to get into it for what it is, and they want to know the real deal. Jazz take strong desire, and it requires a lot of practice. Once it's ingrained it's like a magic trick done with mirrors. You become fluent in a certain way that's even greater than your own understanding of how you got there. People think fluency in jazz is a big intellectual thing, but it's actually just a lot of work. You have to do the time.

13 Questions—more and more.

2011-01-20T10:29:00.000-05:00

I've just posted a new '13 Questions' column on adamlevy.com, with Noël Akchoté!

This is sort of my Proust questionnaire, for guitar players only. I mean, I ask the questions of guitar players only. Anyone may read them. Please do.

Yes, I do.

2011-01-17T07:30:00.000-05:00

Offer guitar lessons, that is.

Next question....

6/8 ... 3/4 ... what's the diff?

2011-01-15T22:51:00.000-05:00

My friend Danny recently asked me, "What's the difference between 6/8 and 3/4?" Good question! This was my reply (below), which is about as clear as I can make it.

It's all about the booms and the chicks.

3/4 is a proper waltz feel: boom chick chick, boom chick chick, etc. The chicks can be subtle—even just brush strokes on a snare.

This version of "Tennessee Waltz" is in 3/4: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ek3eCbfqp0

6/8 is a longer meter: boom ___ ___ chick ___ ___, boom ___ ___ chick ___ ___, etc.

This version of "Tennessee Waltz" is in 6/8: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzDUi_L6MzA

New post on my 13 Questions page.

2011-01-08T21:55:00.005-05:00

The great jazz-and-beyond guitarist Steve Khan gives his answers to my 13 Questions. I’ve been a fan for many years. His 1981 album, Eyewitness, was particularly inspiring for me.

Check out Khan’s responses—as well as interviews with Nels Cline, Bill Frisell, Jeff Parker, and others—here.

Overdrive.

2011-01-07T09:59:00.009-05:00

Every guitarist needs a good grind-box. I want to share one of my favorites with you here. If your timbral preferences are similar to mine—for warm tones, for a liquid-gold sort of sound—this may save you some time and money in your quest for satisfying tone.

My favorite overdrive pedal is not a hard-to-find boutique box or a custom-modified version of a classic. It’s the mustard-yellow Boss OD-3 OverDrive—stock right out of the box—available at any just about any guitar shop for $99 or less. To my ears, the OD-3 does the best job of sounding like I simply reached over and turned up my amp a little. My amp is a ’62 Fender Princeton. When I crank it harder—say, from 5 up to 7—it doesn’t get much louder, but the tone definitely changes. It sounds (and feels) more saturated and slightly more compressed. I get more sustain and whooo from my notes. Pushed harder, the amp doesn’t sound more buzzy, and its low-end frequencies don’t disappear—but that’s exactly what many overdrive pedals do. No thank you, very much!

My usual OD-3 settings: Level and Tone knobs at high noon, Gain at just above the minimum. What does the pedal do when the Gain control is maxed? I honestly have no idea. I like the vibe in the lowest setting so much, I’ve never pushed past that sweet spot. Go ahead and try it, and let me know what you discover.

Again, I’m using a small amp—powered by two 6V6 tubes, with a 10-inch speaker. I love the OD-3 in combination with that kind of amp (i.e., any Fender Princeton model). If you’re using a larger amp, your results are sure to vary.

Lessons, redux.

2010-12-25T01:02:00.001-05:00

This is an updated version of the lessons—tips, actually—that first appeared on my web site a few years ago. I hope you find them helpful.

Lesson #1. Record your gigs and rehearsals, and listen back later to hear what you really sound like. You may think you know what you sound like, but—in the heat of the moment—most players are too focused on the mechanics of playing (or other things) to be able to analyze their own sound. You may be surprised when you experience your tone, phrasing, dynamics, and sense of rhythm from this objective perspective. With a richer awareness of what you actually sound like, you’re better equipped to decide what things in your playing need work, and to organize your practice time to reach your practical goals.

Lesson #2. Have your guitar ready to play at any time. When you get home from a gig (or lesson, or rehearsal), take your guitar out of the case, tune it, and put it on a stand. Then your guitar will be ready to play at any time, and you’re more likely to play it—as opposed to leaving it tucked under your bed in a latched case. Likewise for your amp. Don’t leave it in your car after a gig (or lesson, or rehearsal). Bring the amp inside as soon as you get home, plug it into the wall, and hook up a cable. (Note: Guitarist Jim Campilongo gets credit for this lesson.)

Lesson #3. Your body is part of the practice. If you usually perform while sitting, then practice while sitting; if you usually perform while standing, practice while standing. Why? Because the orientation of your fingers, wrists, elbows, and shoulders changes when you go from sitting to standing, or vice versa. If you spend two hours practicing with your body in one orientation, and change your orientation when you get to the gig, much of your practice time has been wasted. Who can afford that?

Lesson #4. Show up early to the gig. I didn’t appreciate this until a few years ago, when I began leading my own band, but it’s one of the most important lessons I can impart. One reason for showing up early is, you just never know what last-minute problems may need sorting out when you get to the gig. Maybe you’ve forgotten an essential piece of gear, or the venue is poorly wired and you have to find a way to quell that awful hum in your amp. Even if you don’t encounter any such problems, you need to be on stage and ready to play at the designated start time. If the band is late in starting and it’s your fault because you didn’t show up early enough, that makes the band leader look bad to the club owner (or manager, or mother of the bride). No band leader wants to be put in that position. Leaders have more important things to be concerned with besides “Where the hell is my guitar player?”

Lesson #5. Keep your guitar strapped on. Thanks to guitar-tech extraordinaire Kelly Macaulay for suggesting a cheap, easy way to guarantee your guitar doesn’t slip away from your strap: neoprene washers. The ones I like best are made by the Danco Company of Concordville, Pennsylvania. Their stock number is 61805B—these are 1-1/4" in diameter, 1/6" thick, and have a 1/4" hole in the center. To get the washer over your strap button, use the first finger and thumb of each hand to grip the washer at the 9-o’clock and 3-o’clock positions. Pull in opposite directions to open the hole wide enough to get it onto your strap button. (The washers go over your strap. The strap should already be on the guitar.) Removal is even easier. Grab the edge of the washer and pull it over the button and toward the opposite side, as if turning the page of a book.

Lesson #6. Maintain a practice journal. You practice, right? (If not, skip this lesson.) A journal helps you keep track of what you practice, when you practice it, and how long you practice it for. Write down what you work on, every time you practice. For example, Practiced G major scale in 2nd and 7th positions, steady 8th notes with alternate picking, 20 minutes total, or Transcribed Jimmy Page’s guitar solo from “The Ocean”, or Discovered new tuning: E-G#-C#-F#-B-E, spent 30 minutes experimenting with I, IV and V chords in this tuning, keys of E and A, or No practice today, but I changed the strings on my guitar and polished it. The journal can be useful for picking up where you left off yesterday—or last week, or last year—and for measuring your progress over time.

Lesson #7. Yes, you can get a good tone from a JC-120. If you’re you’ve done some touring, you’ve undoubtedly had gigs where you couldn’t bring your own gear and were told that an amp would be provided for you at the venue—and when you got to the gig, there was a Roland Jazz Chorus waiting for you. These amps are notorious for sounding paradoxically rich yet 2-dimensional. Guitarist Avi Bortnick showed me this neat trick for getting a usable tone: Turn the Treble and Bass knobs fully counterclockwise, and use just the Middle knob to dial in your tone. Works like a charm. Really! I’ve used the same trick for ornery Fender Twins, too. Try it on any amp with a Mid control.

Lesson #8. Get out of the house and go hear some live music. Presumably, one of your goals is to play live and to do it well. What better way to be inspired and enlightened than to see how other players do it? You can learn from their triumphs and from their mistakes. You can see what kind of gear they use to get their sound, and how they physically interact with their instrument. You can see how they communicate with the audience—or how they don’t. On top of all that, you can simply enjoy yourself and remember what it is that turns you on so much about music. For extra credit, dance!

Lesson #9. Don’t look down. Don’t stare at your hands while you’re playing. There are a few reasons for this. First of all, it’s awfully hard to make eye contact with your audience when your attention is fixed on your own hands. And, yes, you want to make eye contact. Staring at your hands also prevents you from making eye contact with the other people you’re playing with. And it’s not great for your neck to be locked in a twisted, downward position.

When playing onstage, it’s essential to be able to project your attention outward—beyond your guitar neck, beyond your microphone stand, beyond the front row, beyond the end of the bar. Energy follows attention. This may sound like hoodoo, but I believe it 100%. One aspect to being an engaging performer is the ability to direct your energy anywhere—from that attractive audience member in the front row, to the Exit sign at the back of the venue, or anywhere in between.

One final reason for not watching your hands is that your mind is faster than your hands. It’s like the old waiters’ trick, not watching the hot cup of coffee as they carry it across the restaurant to the customer. If you watch the cup, your conscious mind can’t help but try to compensate for the pitch and yaw of the coffee in the cup. This often leads to spilling the coffee! Your body instinctually knows how to hold your hands still enough without your eyes. I must confess, this is one lesson I still haven’t mastered—I still catch myself looking at my hands as I play. Don’t be like me, kids. Don’t look down!

Lesson #10. Practice in all 12 major and 12 minor keys. The layout of the guitar fingerboard makes transposition easy. If you know how to play an F major scale, you can play an F# major scale—just move everything up one fret. This ease of transposition leaves some guitarists thinking they don’t need to practice in remote keys, such as F# or Ab. But if you really want to go deep into the guitar—and, for that matter, deep into music—you need to explore these keys. No shortcuts, you dig? Things to practice in all keys: technical exercises, scales, chord voicings, songs, and so on. Anything worth practicing is worth practicing in at least a few different keys.

Lesson #11. Fly safe. If you’re going to fly with your guitar and will be checking it along with your luggage, make sure to take all the extra goodies (strings, picks, capos, slides, and so on) out of the case. Why? Because these days it’s a safe bet that your case will be opened and inspected. If things aren’t put back in the goodie compartment just right, they could be free to roam about the case as it makes its way to your destination. A free-roaming capo or slide can do serious damage. I found this out the hard way, when a heavy brass slide poked a slide-sized hole in the side of my beloved old Martin 0-17 acoustic. Ouch! Don’t let this happen to you.

Lesson #12a. Don’t take the pick for granted. Buy some different kinds of picks next time you’re at the music store, and try them out on your main guitar when you get home. You might find that one actually has a better sound and/or feel than the ones you’re used to. A collection of picks can come in handy for recording sessions and live gigs too, when you need to coax some different timbres from your guitar.

Lesson #12b. Don’t get too picky. Your pick is an essential part of your tone chain, and I encourage you to find a pick that feels and sounds just right to you. The catch here is that you don’t want to get too attached to a pick that’s hard to get more of. You’ll be hosed when you’re on tour with your band and realize you left your favorites at home, and the only music store around is Salvatore’s Brass & Woodwind House, and they’ve got nothing but Thin-gauge oversized triangle picks. Having strong personal preferences is part of being an artist, but it’s important to be flexible and practical. If you feel you simply cannot play without your special pick (or strings, or strap, or cable, or whatever), you’re setting yourself up for a rough ride. Your tone ultimately comes from your heart and your hands, and you’ll have those with you wherever you go.

A few ideas on accompanying singers.

2010-12-15T11:36:00.011-05:00

Reading music and playing music are different activities. Get off the page whenever possible. Show up to the rehearsal (and/or gig) with the songs memorized. If you must read, practice scanning larger and larger chunks of music—four bars, eight bars, and so on. Then you can maintain eye contact with the band and the audience, only glancing at the page every 10 seconds or so.

In the Summer 2010 issue of Fretboard Journal, Gillian Welch says of her longtime picking partner David Rawlings: “Because Dave can be so explosive and exciting as a soloist, I think people don’t always realize what a consummate accompanist he is. He’s always there to color the vocal, embellish the vocal, and support the song. To really do those things, though, you have to have something to say. There are few things as distracting and detracting as overly polite or timid accompaniment! Give me an unexpected note any day!” Amen! Do not play timidly. Play with conviction, and express your personality in everything you do.

That said, there are some singers who spook easily. With this kind of singer, you need to be careful not to step on their phrases or distract them. Drive your backing parts simple chords and rhythmic clarity. In any case, get to know the singer and find your own ways to complement their style.

“Good time” can be expressed in many different ways: laid back, square on the beat, or even slightly ahead of the beat; even 8ths (or 16ths), swung 8ths (or 16ths), or something in between. Practice along with a metronome or a recording—something that won’t budge. Experiment with placing your parts on different parts of the beat, and with varying amounts of swing.

Listen for the spaces in the vocal phrases, and fill some of them. You can use fragments of the melody, or create your own counter melodies. As a general rule, stay off the singer’s notes, and off of their rhythm.

Guitar parts can be organized in three tiers: lowdown bass lines, mid-register chordal stuff, and higher melodic phrases. Your parts may be limited to just one tier, or any combination. There are also other ways to organize guitar parts.

Feel the rhythm in longer phrases—not just one bar at a time.

Only play what you can hear. If you don’t have a musical idea that comes from deep inside, just take a breath. There’s no harm in leaving silence, but moving your fingers around just because you think you’re “supposed” to is criminal. Always be making music.

Where does tone come from?

2010-12-10T08:43:00.006-05:00

This past Sunday, I saw Robben Ford and John Scofield—two of my all-time favorite guitarists—together, playing the blues at the Blue Note jazz club in New York City. Musical badassery notwithstanding, the evening held relatively few surprises. If you’re a fan of both of these guys, you can probably imagine what the show was like. I was, however, very surprised by Scofield’s guitar. He has played with the same Ibanez AS200 for as long as I can remember, but onstage Sunday night he rocked a Fender Stratocaster. The AS200 is semi-hollow, with two humbucking pickups and a set mahogany neck—not unlike a Gibson ES-335—whereas the Strat is a solidbody, with three single-coil pickups and a bolt-on maple neck. In construction and in elemental tone, these models are worlds apart.

I got to meet Scofield afterward, and I asked him about his unexpected ax. He shrugged and said, It’s a blues gig. I figured I should play a Strat.” Reflecting on this, two things strike me as being remarkable. First, that Scofield with a Strat sounded exactly like himself—his twisty solo lines flared white-hot, and his chordal stuff behind Ford felt girthsome. The other big aha was that he didn’t sound anything like Stevie Ray Vaughan. Nor did he sound like Buddy Guy, Robert Cray, or Eric Clapton. Yes, you can play blues on a Stratocaster without carrying any of the excess baggage of the forbearers. Confidence (not to be confused with cockyness) is what tone is really made of. It’s about being comfortable enough in your own skin to make a sound that no one else can, and being able to make it on whatever equipment is at hand. When you believe in your own musical voice, then the instrument itself—and any tonal benchmarks associated with that instrument—are secondary.

Of course, playing the Strat might have made the gig more fun, or more interesting, or more whatever for Scofield himself. And I’m totally in favor of doing whatever it takes to keep yourself inspired. Joy rules! If I’m getting preachy here, my point isn’t about not having more than one guitar, or using different instruments for different gigs. It’s about not being so obsessive about gear that you feel you can’t play without a certain piece of equipment in hand, or telling yourself, “If I only had that ______, then I’d finally get the awesomest tone ever!” My point is simply this: Tone starts in your imagination, before you ever put pick to string.

A book for beginners.

2010-11-28T13:02:00.000-05:00

The new book Teach Yourself Guitar Basics features solid info from Acoustic Guitar staffers, as well as chapters by Josh Workman, Pete Madsen, and myself.

Happy Thanksgiving.

2010-11-25T10:16:00.020-05:00

On this Thanksgiving day, I’d like to pay tribute to some of the players and teachers who helped demystify—and re-mystify—the guitar for me in my formative years. Their LPs were in heavy rotation during my first decade as a guitarist. Without them, I imagine I’d be a wholly different player. Thank you, gentlemen, for the inspiration and information. Thanks so much.

10 Albums (in No Particular Order) That Shaped My Approach to Playing the Guitar When I Was a Young’n

1. James Taylor Greatest Hits. When JT plays his songs, you know it’s JT. He has his own way of dressing up simple shapes with melodic hammer-ons and pull-offs—then stepping through a passing chord straight out of an old jazz tune. And his playing always has a steady-rolling groove.

2. Jeff Beck Truth. This record is all over the map, style wise—low-down nasty blues (“I Ain’t Superstitious”), soul balladeering (“Ol’ Man River”), acoustic folk (“Greensleeves”). Beck sounds authentic and cocksure throughout, though he was only 24 year old when this album was released.

3. Brian Eno Apollo: Atmpospheres & Soundtracks. This early-‘80s album was the first I’d heard of guitarist Daniel Lanois. His spectacular tones here, I suppose, owe a lot to Eno’s sound-design, but the shimmering “Silver Morning” and the plaintive “Always Returning” are Lanois through and through.

4. Chet Atkins and Les Paul Chester & Lester. I later found “better” examples of both pickers’ blue-chip musicianship, but this record is just a whole lot of fun. It helped me take the guitar more seriously and less seriously at the same time.

5. Dave Edmunds Repeat When Necessary. Albert Lee’s solo on “Sweet Little Lisa” was the first hot trick-bag country guitar I’d heard. It didn’t make me want to put a B-bender in my guitar, but it did introduce me to the concept of oblique bends—where one note bends up or down while another sustains unbent. I’m still working on that stuff.

6. Ella Fitzgerald and Joe Pass Take Love Easy. Joe Pass was a consummate accompanist. His playing here is totally supportive of Ella’s voice, yet he is inventive and active—not merely strumming background chords. I’ve striven to give that kind of support to every singer I’ve ever worked with.

7. Ted Greene Solo Guitar. Ted could make the guitar sound like liquid gold, and make it look easy. He was a genius in his mastery of harmony and counterpoint. I was lucky enough to study with Ted in the late ’80s and early ’90s—just a few lessons, really. It’s his fault that I use heavy strings, that I shake the guitar neck for vibrato effects, and that I let notes ring out as long as possible.

Ted Greene, circa 1990

8. Larry Coryell with John Scofield and Joe Beck Tributaries. Three luminary jazz guitarists known mostly for their electric work. All three play Ovation acoustic guitars here, showing how much their tone is in their hands—not in their gear. Their improvisations were totally far-out, compared to most of what I was listening to at the time. Chromatic tension and over-the-barline phrasing suddenly sounded pretty good to me. [This record is out of print, as far as I know.]

9. Jimmy Wyble Etudes. Jimmy was a my first guitar teacher. His style was unique and modern—based on his own set of musical rules. Though it could border on lofty at times, Jimmy’s music always remained warm and welcoming, with a sense of swing and a sense of humor. [Out of print, as far as I know.]

10. The Beatles The White Album (The Beatles). An lexicon of great guitar playing. Novel fingerpicking (“Blackbird” and “Julia”), psychedelic blues (“Helter Skelter”), a searing Clapton guest solo ("While My Guitar Gently Weeps"), and lots of song-bound tastiness in between.

The other tunings.

2010-11-02T12:28:00.007-04:00

I can’t remember the first recording I heard that featured non-standard tuning. It might have been Led Zeppelin’s “The Rain Song” (DGCGCD), a Pierre Bensusan album (he’s a DADGAD devotee), or something by Joni Mitchell (she’s fluent in dozens of unorthodox tunings). I do remember thinking, “This is a wild world,” but it was a world I had little interest in exploring. I had been playing guitar for a few years already, and my record collection featured guitar-centric LPs by George Benson (The George Benson Cookbook), Jeff Beck (Truth), and Joe Pass (Virtuoso). None of these guitar gods deviated from standard tuning, so I decided to limit my own explorations to standard tuning and hoped I’d find everything I needed there. I found plenty, and I was content to keep my guitar parked there for a couple of decades—until 2003. That’s when I met a fellow named Kevin Breit.

I was playing in Norah Jones’ Handsome Band at the time and we were riding high on the success of her debut album, Come Away with Me. I had been the sole guitarist in the band, but then Norah decided to add Kevin near the end of that tour. Kevin plays regularly in open-D (DADF#AD), and he has played other stringed instruments extensively—especially those in the banjo and mandolin families—so he’s very agile when it comes to alternate tunings. In fact, I once put Kevin’s guitar into some random tuning and handed it back to him, and he was instantly able to make music with it. Kevin generously showed me some open-D basics, and when he left the band a year-and-a-half later, I had to learn to play his song “Humble Me” just the way he did on Norah’s second album (in open-B, BF#BD#F#B; like open-D tuned down three half-steps). Learning that song, and getting inside Kevin’s style, was indeed humbling.

Since my time on the road with Kevin, I’ve continued to explore open-D tuning and other alternates too. New tunings are no longer as daunting to me as they once were—largely thanks to Kevin’s practical advice for getting into any new tuning. The way in, he told me, was to find simple I, IV, and V chord shapes and memorize those. Once you have those in hand, you can begin to play songs. And once you’re playing songs—making music—you’ll find your way to other chords too.

My new album, The Heart Collector, will include songs in open-D-minor (DADFAD), double-drop-D (DADGBD), and open-G (DGDGBD). I wouldn’t say I’m totally fluent in any of these tunings, but I can write songs in them—and then they feel like the most natural settings for those songs. Now, if you’re a folkie, you’ve likely explored some other turnings already and probably don’t this advice. But if you’re a jazz guitarist—or playing in any other style that’s deeply rooted in standard tuning—I hope this post inspires you to explore some new worlds, bravely.

The Claw.

2010-10-07T07:10:00.007-04:00

About two years ago, I heard my friend Amber Rubarth—a mighty fine singer/songwriter—fingerpick a jazzy instrumental piece on her guitar. I’d never heard Amber play anything like it, so I asked what it was. “Jiffy Jam,” she said, smiling. Who wrote it? Where did she hear it? How did she learn it? She told me: It was by a country guy whose name she couldn’t remember; she’d heard a mutual friend of ours play it in France; and she’d asked our friend for the sheet-music. These answers were all true enough, but the provenance of this fantastic guitar music remained mysterious.

I was in France recently and spent some time with our friend—Marcel Van Dam, a great songwriter and guitarist himself—and I heard him fingerpick an instrumental piece outside of his usual style. Where did he learn this flashy ditty? You guessed it—it’s in the very same folio that “Jiffy Jam” comes from. Marcel told me, “It’s a book of music by Jerry Reed Hubbard.” I knew Jerry Reed’s name, of course. I’d heard him on many recordings when I was younger because my uncle was a fan. Reed’s album When You're Hot, You're Hot was a favorite of mine, in heavy rotation during my young teen years. But the “Hubbard” name threw me off. I’d never heard Jerry referred to that way, so I wasn’t sure it was the same fellow. As soon as Marcel showed me his well-worn book, I knew. There was the very same Jerry! Turns out Jerry Reed Hubbard was his full name, so his songs were thusly attributed on the title page of each. Published in the ’70s, this thin volume contains seven pieces—including Reed’s signature knuckle-buster, “The Claw.” I borrowed the book and ran to the nearest photocopy shop.

I’ve been working on “The Claw” since returning home this week. It’s still touch and go, but I’m able to get a few bars at a time up and swinging. The writing is brilliant! Reed maximized the guitar’s elemental resources—using open strings, double-stops, half-barres, and all. He was like a country-fried Francisco Tárrega. As dexterous as Chet Atkins, as funky as Ray Charles, Jerry Reed was a master musician. His brilliance may have ultimately been overshadowed by his humorous songs (“Amos Moses”) or his turns as an actor (Smokey and the Bandit). But, as a guitarist, Reed was wildly serious. Check him out. Your pickin’ hand will never be the same.