Don Felder says he played up to 14 different guitar parts on the Eagles' 1977 single hit “Hotel California” using both six- and 12-string guitars. But determining how to re-create the song live left him scratching his head.

The obvious solution was to play a Gibson EDS-1275 double-neck, the same model Jimmy Page used to bring “Stairway to Heaven” to the stage.

But even then, he says, the instrument required modifications to meet his needs.

“I played so many guitar tracks on that song, I think 13 to 14 guitar parts total. So, when it came time to play it live, we were stuck with the question of how do I play the 12-string and the six-string throughout the song,” Felder tells Gibson Gazette.

“At first, we thought maybe I put a 12-string acoustic on a stand [in playing position] and have a six-string Les Paul behind my back. I could reach over and play the 12-string, and then when the six-string was needed, I could step away and pull it up from behind my back.

“But I just knew the first time I was a little off balance, the guitar on the stand would fall face down, and then what do you do? Stop the song?”

Since it was such a hit, "Hotel California" quickly became a highlight of the Eagles' sets. Felder needed a foolproof plan, so he sent his tech out to find a double-neck. He returned with the Olympic White Gibson EDS-1275 that has been in Felder's guitar arsenal ever since.

But it needed one extra mod in order to authentically replicate the density and diversity of the song’s studio version.

Felder had used his 1959 Les Paul Standard for several of the guitar layers when recording it at Miaimi's Criteria Studios, . The guitar was plugged into a 1950s Fender Tweed Deluxe combo amp and Echoplex electric tape delay. Crucially, the 12-string went through a rotating Leslie speaker. So he leaned on a country guitar hero for the answer.

“Since the 12-string needed to come out of a Leslie, and the six-string out of a regular amp, the idea of two outputs came from when I saw Chet Atkins play,” he details. “He had split a pickup, allowing him to play two songs at once. So I took that concept, and instead of splitting the pickup, I put in a second output jack, and split the output switch between the necks.

“So the Gibson doubleneck I play is not an off-the-shelf model,” Felder reveals. “I have to have them modified, where the switch is switching between the outputs of the two necks. Thankfully, the idea worked out pretty well!”

A peek at the image below gives the game away. There are two inputs clearly visible on the body of he guitar, with two cables running from them to their respective amps.

Felder, who has recovered after being rushed off stage back in February, is back with The Vault — Fifty Years of Music, his new solo album that draws inspiration from rediscovered demos from the Eagles' glory days.

Some of the ideas date back as far as 1974, the year he joined the band. But The Vault isn’t solely a nostalgia trip.

“I didn’t want it to sound like a bunch of old songs,” he tells Guitar Player. “It’s not old songs. The only one that sounds particularly dated, and I did that deliberately, is ‘All the Girls Love to Dance.’ It was written and developed in the mid ’80s, so I wanted to represent that time period. But the rest I think feel pretty current.”

He’s also revealed the unlikely influence behind his standout “One of These Nights” guitar solo, and reflected on his early days, including the time a young, budding artist called Tom Petty asked him for guitar lessons.

The legacy of recorded guitar does not rest solely upon the discographies of Hendrix, Clapton, Beck, Page and other six-string deities. Nor does it always embrace established classics, technical masterpieces and mammoth hits. 

Deep in the grooves and digital data streams of under-appreciated and forgotten releases are moments of brilliance that deserve another chance to inspire legions of guitarists. 

These records were produced by heroes and wackos alike, and they resonate with just as much passion as many of the annointed albums that make up the typical guitarist’s list of desert-island discs.

Of course, there are thousands of closet classics out there, but there’s scant chance of cataloging them all. So just for fun, here are ten albums graced with performances every guitarist should assimilate into their trick bags...

1. Chet Atkins 'Hometown Guitar' (1968)

A great guitar album should inspire you musically, but it’s hard to play when your jaw is on the floor. Despite the humble cover shot, this obscure record contains cocky, mind-boggling licks that will leave you asking, “How did Chet Atkins make it sound so easy?”

In the modal theme to “Get On with It,” for example, Mr. Guitar peels off spectacular nylon-string cascades with such casual precision, it’s almost comical. He might as well be shuffling a deck of cards. 

Another flabbergaster is the down-home “Blue Angel.” It sounds like Paganini playing a two-step, as Atkins splices together an action-packed melody using fretted notes and open strings. 

Soon you realize you’re hearing a player who transcended mere chops. What Atkins brought to the guitar is closer to the dedication and grace you see in Olympic gold medalists. But don’t worry – these licks aren’t impossible. They’re just something to shoot for. Like the moon.

2. Eddie Boyd '7936 South Rhodes' (1968)

Pianist Eddie Boyd may be one of the lesser-appreciated icons of American blues, but sparks certainly flew during this landmark, six-hour session that paired him with the members of Fleetwood Mac (minus Jeremy Spencer). 

The real hit here, of course, is guitarist Peter Green, who smolders with soulful intensity on the dozen Boyd-penned songs. Green’s spirited riffing and lyrical solos – which often feature his celebrated out-of-phase Les Paul tone – elevate the music in spite of Boyd’s notoriously somber lyrics and rather plodding piano style. 

The result is an album that can be appreciated by guitar nuts and blues historians alike.

3. Larry Carlton 'Last Nite' (1987)

You’ll often find L.A. hotshots trading licks at the cozy Baked Potato in North Hollywood. Sadly, the only evidence of most of these magical jams are the next morning’s hangovers and ringing ears. Well, here’s one that didn’t get away. From the very first lick, you can tell Larry Carlton is having one of those inspired nights where everything goes right.

The real treat is “The B.P. Blues,” a slow­-burning 12-bar jam that climaxes with dazzling fretboard fireworks. ‘‘At least once a night, I play a straight-ahead, down-home blues,” Carlton says in the liner notes. “It’s good for the soul.” It’s also good for your soul, as you lose yourself in that impossibly creamy guitar tone. Even Carlton’s softest notes seem to sustain forever. And amazingly, the louder and busier he gets, the better he sounds.

4. James Burton & Ralph Mooney 'Corn Pickin’ and Slick Slidin’' (1969) 

‘‘Burton and Mooney. You know the names, but not the team. It’s new!” exclaims the liner notes to this often-overlooked prize. By the time Corn Pickin’ and Slick Slidin’ was released, James Burton and pedal-steel wizard Ralph Mooney had already graced hundreds of records between them.

Com Pickin’ and Slick Slidin’ finds the duo playing instrumental versions of country classics such as “Your Cheatin’ Heart” and “I’m a Lonesome Fugitive,” as well as a few original compositions. 

Although Burton’s trademark chicken-pickin’ licks make an appearance (the track “Moonshine” may contain his duckiest phrasing ever), it’s his lyrical Dobro work that takes center stage. Corn Pickin’ and Slick Slidin’ is about tasty interpretations of classic tunes by two legendary players.

5. The Creation 'The Complete Collection, Volumes I and II (1966-68)' (2001)

Other players got the glory for their feedback excursions, but Creation guitarist Eddie Phillips is the lost master of noise-splattered squeals, squalls and psychotic freak-outs. He was so over the top that Pete Townshend once asked him to join the Who as second guitarist. One can only imagine the feral cacophony those two could have launched. 

The Creation got a wink from filmmaker Wes Anderson in 1998, when he used a snippet of the band’s “Making Time” as the soundtrack to the main character’s thought process in Rushmore. It was 15 seconds of riff majesty that moviegoers were humming on the way out of the theater. 

The Complete Collection shows you what Phillips could do with a full two-minute pop song.

6. Free 'Free Live' (1971)

The late Paul Kossoff was arguably the most underrated guitarist of the late-Sixties British blues boom. More aggressive than Clapton and Green, yet more lyrical than rockers such as Mick Ralphs, Kossoff was a musical bridge between traditional electric blues and riff rock.

Although their studio records were heavy on attitude, Free Live unleashes a tremendous dose of strut and swagger. Kossoff’s guitar is absolutely huge throughout, and you’ll quickly realize how big an influence he was on players such as Angus Young and Gary Moore. 

Double-stop cries, super-wide vibrato and absolutely killing tone were just a few of Kossoff’s strong points. Free Live also proves that Free was one of the heaviest, groovingest and most ass-kicking rock bands ever.

7. Robben Ford 'The Inside Story' (1979)

Robben Ford was a veteran sideman with Tom Scott & the L.A. Express, Jimmy Witherspoon, Joni Mitchell and George Harrison when he cemented his status as a solo artist with this fusion-oriented album. But unlike the syrupy L.A.-jazz releases of the era, Ford’s music simmers with earthy soul. Even when stretching his newfound jazz muscles on such soaring cuts as “For the One I Love,” “There’s No One Else” and “Far Away,” Ford’s gutsiness remains intact. 

It’s hard to say how much of the album was shaped by the production hand of Steve Cropper, but the R&B guitar legend deserves credit for presenting Ford as a cutting-edge jazz artist with wailing blues chops. On “North Carolina,” for example, Ford wraps up his solo in a riveting duet with harp player (and brother) Mark Ford. Another high point is “Tee Time for Eric,” a funky, up-tempo number with tricky changes that Ford tackles with astonishing skill. 

The Inside Story is definitely a high-water mark of Ford’s affair with fusion, and it’s one jazz-rock record that will never sound dated.

8. Merle Haggard 'The Instrumental Sound of Merle Haggard’s Strangers' (1969)

Merle Haggard was the hottest thing in country in 1969, and this all-instrumental album gave his band a much ­deserved opportunity to strut its stuff. And, man, was there a lot to strut. 

The coolest cuts feature guitarist Roy Nichols and steel-player Norm Hamlet, who demonstrate the fine art of duet playing on “Leavin’ Phoenix,” “Poppin’ Corn,” “Hammin’ It Up,” “Whooper Snooper” and ‘‘A Hop and a Skip.” Both players were at the top of their game at this point (thanks, in part, to Haggard’s letting them stretch out so much onstage), and you’re treated to megadoses of Nichols’ signature string bending and chicken pickin’. 

Nobody makes albums like this anymore, and we’re just damn lucky that someone at Capitol Records was willing to let Hag’s road band have its way in the studio.

9. Jellyfish 'Spilt Milk' (1993)

This underappreciated effort from pop-rock historians Jellyfish contains some of the best tunes that the Beatles, Badfinger and the Beach Boys never wrote. And each one is full to bursting with great guitar, courtesy of Lyle Workman and Jon Brion. 

Relying on a huge collection of vintage gear (“We had Gibsons, Fenders, Rics, Gretsches, Voxes, Marshalls, Hiwatts, Magnatones and more,” recalls Workman), Brion strolls down classic rock’s memory lane with righteous Queen-isms in “Joining a Fan Club,” and Fab Four–to-the-bar AC30 spanks in “Sebrina, Paste and Plato.” 

Workman works similar magic in “The Ghost at Number One,” cuts out-of-control feedback tracks in ‘‘All Is Forgiven,” and lays down glorious acoustic and tasteful electric parts in “Glutton of Sympathy.” His finest moment might be the Harrison-esque slide solo in “New Mistake,” which was played on an ES-335 plugged into a vintage Gibson combo. 

“I know that [Jellyfish founders] Roger Manning and Andy Sturmer didn’t set out to make just another pop record,” Workman says. “They wanted Spilt Milk to be an important musical statement. Although the sales were disappointing, the album succeeds from a musical standpoint.”

10. Eric Johnson 'Seven Worlds' (1998)

When Eric Johnson’s Grammy-nominated debut, Tones, came out in 1986, it signaled to the world what music nuts in Austin, Texas, had known for years: A new guitar genius was on the loose. What most people still didn’t know, however, was that Johnson had recorded a solo album between 1976 and 1977 that would not see the light of day until 1998. 

That record, Seven Worlds, makes it clear that Johnson had nailed his trip and his sound way before Tones. (In fact, the takes of “Zap” and “Emerald Eyes” that appear on Worlds rival the versions on Tones.) It’s clear Johnson didn’t have the budget for limitless takes and overdubs and, as a result, the tracks have an immediacy and rawness that’s almost nonexistent on his subsequent releases.

“Missing Key” features Johnson’s unmistakable clean tones and lush chord work, and ‘‘Alone with You” features perhaps the grittiest overdrive that he has ever put to tape as well as a smoking solo that showcases the classic “violin” tone and impeccable speed picking that have become his hallmarks. 

One of the coolest things about the “Alone with You” solo is that you get to hear the perfection-obsessed guitarist make an ever-so-slight mistake. It’s not a disappointment, however, as the track’s energy is absolutely stunning.

A quartet of Grammy Awards underscores Jason Isbell’s reputation as a singer/songwriter, but his extensive catalog also finds him flexing his six-string strengths.

Along the way to mastering his mix of melody, ferocity, and restraint, Isbell’s journey intersected some serious guitar techniques.

Here are the five riffs that changed his life...

1. “The Bells of St. Mary’s” by Chet Atkins

“My uncle was into the Chet Atkins/Merle Travis style of picking,” says Isbell, “and this song was a big deal for me when I was seven years old.

“When I started writing singer/songwriter stuff, and I was depending on an acoustic guitar to accompany myself, having an understanding of these alternating thumb-picking patterns really helped me out.”

2. “Cortez the Killer” by Neil Young

“When I started coming up with melodies and chord changes on my own, this song kept coming back to me, because of the tension and release created when you hold that D note from one chord to the next.

“It creates this kind of cool suspension.”

3. “I Know a Little” by Lynrd Skynrd

“In my house, there was a big love of early Lynyrd Skynyrd – especially the guitar playing of Steve Gaines – because the band took pride in playing things that were complicated.

“This intro blew my mind, and it still does. In fact, my wife [songwriter/fiddle player Amanda Shires] showed me how similar it is to a lot of jazz-influenced Texas swing. 

"If you work up to a point where you can play that kind of guitar, you can do a whole lot of stuff.”

4. “Salt Creek” by Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys

“From a very early age, my grandfather would have me play rhythm guitar for him while he played mandolin, banjo, or fiddle. I got interested in bluegrass music that way, but I have my own bastardized version of it.

“I thought I had a handle on bluegrass flat picking before I moved to Nashville and discovered the checker at the grocery store is probably a better picker than you are!”

5. “Running On Empty” by Jackson Browne With David Lindley

“I started out playing slide guitar listening to people like Duane Allman, and then going back and listening to Elmore James.

“But when I heard David Lindley’s lap-steel part on this song, it really opened my eyes to a different, more melodic way of playing slide that wasn’t based of the standard licks I’d heard in blues music.”

The Mixolydian mode has long been a popular resource for melody makers, soloists and riff writers alike.

Like its close cousin the major scale, Mixolydian (theoretically spelled 1 2 3 4 5 6 b7) has a happy, uplifting quality, but its minor, or “flatted,” seventh degree – as opposed to the major scale’s major, or “natural,” seventh – throws a little funk into the mix, giving Mixolydian its signature dominant-seven flavor.

Let’s explore the mode’s riff-crafting potential with a diverse batch of examples inspired by the playing of some famous pickers.

CHET AND THE BEATLES

We’ll kick off this lesson with a D Mixolydian (D E F# G A B C) example in the style of “Mr. Guitar” himself, Chet Atkins.

Coming to prominence in the 1950s, the mild-mannered Gretsch-wielder inspired legions of budding axe players and future rock and roll stars.

Ex. 1 employs the “Travis picking” technique (named after pioneering country picker Merle Travis), in which the thumb plucks an alternating bass line on the low strings, while the fingers produce counterpoint rhythms on the higher strings.

The “hidden” simplicity lies in the fact that a basic D7 (D F# A C) chord shape, or “grip,” provides the foundation for the entire passage.

The Beatles’ vast recorded catalog provides a treasure trove of Mixolydian guitar riffs, solos and vocal melodies.

Ex. 2 is in the broken-chord arpeggiated style of George Harrison’s “If I Needed Someone.”

Based on a seventh-position voicing of A7 (A C# E G), the melody lines are derived from the A Mixolydian mode (A B C# D E F# G), in which the notes of an A dominant seven chord live.

Also derived from A Mixolydian, Ex. 3 is in the style of Harrison’s opening riff from “I Want to Tell You.” This unique melody is played entirely on the D string.

You can hear echoes of George’s original riff in many subsequent, single-string guitar breaks from the 1960s, a prime example being “Pleasant Valley Sunday” by the Monkees.

Ex. 4 is another Harrison-style riff. Rendering a climactic moment in “Here Comes the Sun,” it’s founded on a partial seventh-position E7 chord (E G# B D) and fueled by a rhythmic motif that casts selected notes from E Mixolydian (E F# G# A B C# D) in three-note groupings.

Although George was the official lead guitarist of the Fab Four, John Lennon contributed his fair share of guitar riffs and leads.

The C Mixolydian (C D E F G A Bb) passage in Ex. 5 is based on his ebullient riff from “I Feel Fine.”

Use a maxed-out compression pedal to achieve the desired “squashed” tone.

Ex. 6 is a D Mixolydian (D E F# G A B C) chord-melody figure inspired by Lennon’s “Norwegian Wood.”

Drop your low-E string down a whole step to D, and be sure to let all the notes ring together as much as possible.

While the example calls for fingerstyle technique, it’s also playable with a pick.

Ex. 7 is a nod to Sir Paul McCartney, who also played lead guitar on many Beatles songs, such as “Taxman,” “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” and “Good Morning, Good Morning.”

This example is based on the horn-section intro of McCartney’s “Got to Get You Into My Life.”

Derived from the G Mixolydian mode (G A B C D E F), it’s arranged for fingerstyle performance, but, as in the previous example, it can also be played with a pick.

LATE ’60S

Granted, Louis Shelton may not be a household name, but his famous riff from the Monkees’ “Last Train to Clarksville” cemented his “first call” session status for many years to come.

Ex. 8 offers an expanded variation on this riff. Based on G Mixolydian, it’s propelled by a series of “banjo rolls,” performed with hybrid-picking (pick-and-fingers) technique.

The E Mixolydian octave example in Ex. 9 exhibits the mellow and melodic side of Jimi Hendrix.

Essentially a mash-up of “Burning of the Midnight Lamp” and “Third Stone from the Sun,” the figure glides up and down the neck with an A- and G-string pairing.

Be sure to mute the “snuggled” D string with the underside of your fret-hand index finger.

Ex. 10 evokes Jimmy Page’s post-solo riff in Led Zeppelin’s “Heartbreaker.”

Harmonized from A Mixolydian (A B C# D E F# G), it incorporates a series of sixths dyads voiced on the D and B strings, which are surrounded by the open A, G and high E strings.

FUNKING IT UP WITH PASSING NOTES

Ex. 11 is inspired by the Mixolydian-based riffs crafted by pioneering guitar-driven funk groups such as Average White Band (Alan Gorrie, Hamish Stuart and Onnie McIntyre).

This example is reminiscent of “Cut the Cake,” in which the D Mixolydian mode is embellished with a “passing” minor third (F) via deftly placed finger slides and hammer-ons.

The funk factor is largely courtesy of the muted string attacks. Herein lies the difficulty. Try to use all of your available fingers to mute the surrounding, unfretted strings in order to prevent any unwanted notes from sounding.

Ex. 12 is a funky, blues-rock riff inspired by Joe Walsh’s “Funk #49.”

This one is based on A Mixolydian with the minor-third, C, add, as a bluesy color tone. Here, an Am7 shape gives way to an A7 (via a G-string hammer-on), then a triad trade-off (D major and G major), and back to the Am7–A7 handoff.

Ex. 13 goes a step further by inserting two passing tones. Inspired by Joe Perry’s quintessential main riff on Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way,” it’s drawn from E Mixolydian (E F# G# A B C# D) with a flatted fifth (Bb) and minor third (G) added.

CLASSIC ’70 AND ’80S

Ex. 14 includes elements used in many classic rock riffs from the ’70s.

Inspired by both Free’s “All Right Now” and AC/ DC’s “Highway to Hell,” this example relies on the A Mixolydian mode’s I, IV and bVII triads, A, D and G.

Ex. 15 is an E Mixolydian mash-up that recasts some of Eddie Van Halen’s hallmark riff maneuvers in songs such as “Panama.”

Inverted triads (the Esus shape substitutes for an A major triad) launch the riff, and natural harmonics on the A and D strings provide the melodic section.

Ex. 16 is inspired by the standout bridge riff in the Steely Dan classic “Reelin’ in the Years,” which featured Jeff “Skunk” Baxter, Denny Dias and guest soloist Elliott Randall on guitars, with the latter delivering one of the most stunning Mixolydian-based solos in the entire classic-rock catalog.

Like the original figure, our example is an exuberant, legato-fueled passage that’s based on the A Mixolydian mode and exploits the open B and G strings, consequently providing a “country hoedown” flair.

The double-stop-fueled, C Mixolydian offering in Ex. 17 represents those southern-rock-style phrases typical of Lynyrd Skynyrd which featured the great guitarists Ed King, Gary Rossington, Allen Collins and Steve Gaines.

Played with a shuffled, swing-16ths rhythmic feel, the passage exudes a “funky-country” attitude.

Ex. 18 is a prog-rock-style example inspired by Rush guitarist Alex Lifeson’s playing in “Limelight.”

Drawn from E Mixolydian, the five-note lead-up to the first D triad (D F# A) injects the riff with an “odd-meter” feel, even though it’s in straight 4/4 time.

INTO THE ’90S

The ’90s grunge era produced a healthy output of melodic guitar riffs.

Chief among the Mixolydian variety is Stone Temple Pilots guitarist Dean DeLeo’s churning riff in “Interstate Love Song.”

Notice how every note of E Mixolydian is accounted for in this embellished rendition (Ex. 19) of the famous riff.

Our final example, Ex. 20, is a nod to virtuoso players such as Joe Satriani, Steve Vai and Eric Johnson, who helped usher in the modern era of high-tech rock lead guitar.

Not for the feint of heart, it’s a revved-up, A Mixolydian legato fest that zips up the fretboard with hammer-ons, slides and strategically placed open-string embellishments.

Crank up the volume and let ’er rip!

My all-time favorite Lenny Breau recording is a bootleg cassette that a pal of mine recorded at a guitar clinic, where Lenny seemed comfortable, funny and among his own people: guitar players.

That said, Guitar Sounds From Lenny Breau is a great LP and an extraordinary overview of Mr. Breau’s revolutionary and groundbreaking approach to the instrument. Released by RCA in 1969, it is his second album (his first is a live recording) on which one can hear Lenny’s amazing right-hand harmonics, the independence of bass/chords and melody, and his evolved concept of harmony.

Despite Lenny’s virtuosity, his playing is always grounded in something wonderful and pleasing. To put it simply, Lenny’s playing is fun for the whole family. A non-musician “civilian” could love this record as much as the snobbiest pipe-smoking Jazzbo.

One of the many aspects I love about Lenny Breau’s playing is that he never seems to be trying; everything he does sounds effortless. To my ears, he was certainly not trying to prove anything; it was all about the music, and he never prioritized that he was debatably the greatest solo electric guitarist of the 20th century.

On Guitar Sounds From Lenny Breau, one can hear his seven-string prowess displayed on Roger Miller’s “King of the Road.” His lead lines are always perfectly melodic, and one would be hard-pressed to remove a single note, even during his flashy flurries.

“Taranta” follows, and I can hear the influence of pianist Bill Evans. Lenny started employing right-hand harmonics to express Evans’ 10-finger piano chords that he loved and was on a mission to replicate. It seems to me that Lenny refused to accept any of the guitar’s limitations and dedicated countless hours to breaking down the confining walls we players face.

Chet Atkins did a wonderful job producing this LP. It sounds great, and the song choices include what I suspect are Chet approved. “A Hard Days Night,” “Music to Watch Girls By,” “Monday, Monday” and other mainstream vehicles provide context for Lenny’s creativity to show us the depth of his imagination. His version of Hank Williams’ “Cold, Cold Heart” sounds like a modern classical guitar piece, yet with an underlying melancholy and yearning.

Lenny Breau was a guitar genius.

Being a fan, I read the Breau biography One Long Tune, which among other things is a tragic story about his inability to overcome drug use. Although there were flashes of the almost childlike Lenny Breau, not fully equipped for everyday life, there were many inspiring moments as well.

Atkins’ undying generosity toward him was unconditionally beautiful. In 1984, at the young age of 43, Lenny was found dead in a swimming pool, with some suspicions cast on the cause of death. He is currently in an unmarked grave. But I wouldn’t want this to be the focus of his incredible life. This Canadian guitarist gave us all so much.

As I listen to Guitar Sounds From Lenny Breau while writing this column, Lenny’s spirit and innovations are ringing true in my living room. He is a gift that keeps on giving. I’ve always wondered why Lenny Breau’s name doesn’t come up more. To me, he belongs on the small list of guitar innovators of the 20th century, along with Segovia, Django, Charlie Christian, Wes Montgomery, Jimi Hendrix and Eddie Van Halen, to name a few.

He certainly deserves to be recognized and championed. His right-hand harmonics alone put him in the top pantheon of players and this, with all his superhuman musicality, makes him an obvious stand-alone innovator – that along with always sounding warm, smart, sweet and generous.

Check out Lenny playing “Georgia On My Mind." He’s young, at his peak and, as always, jaw-droppingly good.

Discover more of Lenny Breau's music here.

Long before there was rock ‘n’ roll, Scotty Moore (1931-2016) was a rock ‘n’ roll guitar player.

As Elvis Presley's first guitarist, every note the young man played – including such groundbreaking classics as "Hound Dog,“ "Don't Be Cruel“ and “Heartbreak Hotel" – was memorized by countless budding guitar players (many of whom have gone on to become legends themselves.)

Moore was among the handful of musicians in the early ‘50s of whom it can be said, “They invented rock ‘n’ roll.“

The following interview extract originally appeared in the August 1974 issue of Guitar Player…

Tell us about your childhood and your early interest in music.

I was born in West Tennessee – Humboldt. My father and two brothers all played, so that's where my first interest came from. They mostly played the country songs of the time.

I was the youngest in the family, so by the time I was old enough to start playing, my brothers had left home, and my dad was too old to care anything about it anymore. So I didn’t pursue it very much until I got into the service and formed a couple of bands.

When I came out in '52, I went to Memphis to work for my brother who had a cleaning plant. And in my spare time I formed a band and met Sam Phillips [of Sun Records] and began getting into recording a bit.

Were you a studio musician with Sun?

Yes, I guess you could call it that. Sam had been into rhythm and blues before that, and with the band that I'd put together we started working on some country product.

What was the name of the group?

The Starlight Wranglers! [laughs] Bill Black was the bass player. The singer's name was Doug Poindexter. We put one record out and were playing some of the clubs around Memphis.

Then along came Elvis.

Bill and myself auditioned with him. Sam also had a custom record service, and Elvis had been in a year before and made a record for his mother. Sam liked his voice, and kept his name on file.

At the time, the music business was at a very low ebb, and we were all looking for something that would sell. Sam had me get hold of Elvis, and so Elvis came over to my house one Sunday afternoon. We sat around and played, and Elvis sang a little bit of everything – pop, country, R&B.

So after that I called Sam and said, “Well, the guy sings good. He doesn't really knock me out, you know, but…"

So Sam says, “Let's go into the studio and see what he sounds like on tape." So that's what happened, and the first record came out of that first session.

What guitar were you playing at the time?

I had a Fender. I don’t remember if it was a Telecaster, a Broadcaster, a Lancaster – it was one of those 'casters, I do know that.

Then shortly after that I went to a Gibson, and I’ve been playing Gibsons ever since. I had a Les Paul model, made just like the small Les Pauls, but it had a bigger body.

An ES-295 with a gold top?

I'm not sure of the number. I played it for about a year, then went to an L-5, then to a Super 400. I’ve been playing Super 400's ever since.

What was your amp back then?

It was a custom-built Echo-Sonic, made by Ray Butts. Chet Atkins had one, I can't think who had the second, and I had the third one built.

It had a tape, more like a slap-back effect – not the Echoplex we know of now with a repeater. But it just gave a little boost to the sound.

It was awful good if you missed a note. It wouldn't come out so bad. [laughs] I still have that same amp, but of course I also have two or three others.

How did you get a rock ‘n’ roll sound out of a hollowbody?

That's hard to say, because there wasn't any rock ‘n’ roll before. So that was it! We couldn't get the highs or bend the strings as far as many players do now, because we didn‘t use light gauge. We just had to work harder.

The Gretsch Chet Atkins strings were the only ones that would hold up on that particular guitar.

On a couple of earlier guitars, I'd used different ones though. I still use the same Atkins strings now by today's standards they‘re like rope, they‘re so big.

So then what happened after the release of Elvis' first record?

The first one wasn't a nationwide thing. It was more in the Southwest: Mississippi, Arkansas, Texas...

We started doing some shows, and it was rough, it was wild. It wasn't an overnight success, by any means. But even in those early days the crowds were just as ecstatic as now, but not as large.

Then we went to the [Shreveport, Louisiana] Louisiana Hayride and worked with the other acts that were on it. And then we did the first show with Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey, and with that, coupled with the first record we did on RCA, "Heartbreak Hotel,“ it was just like an atomic bomb going off!

Nobody even had time to think after that. A phenomenon. really! And even being as close to it as I was, it's still hard for me to realize it.

I think I'm still getting shock waves out of it.

How long did you stay with Elvis?

Full-time until he went into the Army in '58. And again when he came out. Then he did movies more. Didn't do too many shows. We worked record sessions, movie soundtracks and such.

I worked with him up through the Singer [Presents… Elvis '68 Comeback Special] which was about three or four years ago.

At that time he was going to Vegas for the first time and wanted myself, D. J. [Fontana, drummer] and the Jordanaires to go with him. But it was going to be a six-week bit, and you know what it means to be out of town that long – it's like starting over.

Is that when James Burton joined Elvis?

Elvis needed a man to work with him who was loose enough to travel. And I don‘t think he could have found a better player! That's for sure!

James Burton is fantastic and, I might add, a personal friend for years. l knew him back when he was with Ricky Nelson.

James, Fred Carter Jr. (who's here in Nashville), and Ricky – we all used to get in the hotel, in California, and jam.

What was Elvis like in the beginning? Was he much of a player then?

Elvis was just an everyday guy – young and wild. Now he's old and wild!

He only played rhythm guitar, what I call self-accompaniment. He played a little piano, too. But he didn't consider himself a guitar player as such, but his playing did add to the group, because he played rhythm and more or less tied things together from the rhythm standpoint.

But singing was always his first concern.

Did he have a shaping effect on the course the music was taking? Or did you, Bill and D. J. pretty much decide what that music was to be?

It was a combination of everybody. We'd stop and say, “Let's see if this’ll work." But for the most part I think you could say that once we'd get a rhythm pattern going that felt good with the way Elvis wanted to sing it, we'd work everything else in around that.

The rhythm was the primary thing. Any lead work was really secondary at that point.

In Jerry Hopkins’ book, Elvis, he hints strongly that you were the real reason for the Elvis sound, that it was your musicianship and your guitar playing that actually drove the group and created its sound.

Well, it's easy for another guy to say nice things about you.

He also suggests that you guys really got beat on the money end of it.

Ouch! That was a good lick… Sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose. I guess there are some things that should be put in writing.

How much did you get paid in those early days?

I think it was along about 250 dollars a week. Back then it was a good salary.

Was it strictly up to you to decide the guitar leads in those pre-rock days?

Yeah, basically. They were primarily my own invention, if you can use the word ‘invention.’

A lot was a combination of old blues guitar licks, some Travis, some Atkins, a combination of thumb and finger – just whatever I could make work, really.

I used a thumb pick mostly, then a straight pick on other styles.

Who did you learn from in those days? Who were your inspirations?

I don't think I really had any particular favorites. I was listening to Atkins, Travis, Barney Kessel, Tal Farlow, B.B. King.

I was just into everybody. As long as he played guitar, he was fine with me.

Browse the Elvis Presley catalog here.

Like many long-forgotten electric guitars of the 1960s, the Standel Custom had a stealth arrival and an even quieter departure.

But don’t let its obscurity fool you. As this 1967 model reveals, it’s a nicely engineered guitar that sports some fine amenities and an interesting pedigree.

Built in Southern California initially, and later in New Jersey, these guitars were manufactured for a few years at the end of the ’60s before the line was retired.

They were created by Standel amp builder Bob Crooks, who had collaborations with guitar makers Semie Moseley of Mosrite Guitars and Joe Hall of the fabled Hallmark guitar line.

In ’66 Standel joined up with Sam Koontz, who designed this model, and others, through the Harptone Company. Unfortunately, he was able to make guitars for just a few years, and by 1970 Standel had reverted back to making only guitar amps.

I often lament that if only someone famous had played one of the obscure guitars that I write about in this column, it might have caught on.

But a number of amazing guitarists did play Standel axes, including Joe Maphis and Merle Travis.

It’s said that even Chet Atkins, who loved his Standel 25L15 amplifier, wanted to play a Standel guitar but could use only Gretsch guitars due to a contractual obligation.

Weirdo Factor

The “weird” element becomes evident once you plug it in. The low-impedance, single-coil pickups were designed to be used with a compatible high-wattage Standel amp.

Plugged into a Fender Twin, for instance, this guitar has a very low output compared to, say, a Telecaster.

Visually, aside from the large pointy headstock, the most unusual element is the shape of the plastic and aluminum pickguard, which flows beautifully into the pointy cutaways.

Notice that the bridge and trem system are attached to the aluminum section, which makes sense when you consider how many bridges and tailpieces buckle and pull up after years of use.

Playability & Sound

Once you get around the low output by hooking up your favorite boost box, you’ll discover that the single-coil pickups sound great and that the Standel Custom has tone unlike that of any other guitar.

With both pickups on, its bright and present, and great for funk rhythm playing. The bridge pickup on its own is snarky and bitey and could be good for aggressive surf lines. The neck pickup is warmer, but I’d hardly use it for jazz.

Standel offered larger semi-hollow models that were better suited to that. This solid-body was aimed at the rock market, but due to the pickup design, it lacked the ability to overdrive an amp.

And while you can compensate for that with modern processing, the Standel Custom would not be my, or probably anybody’s, go-to guitar for distortion.

The hard maple neck has an adjustable truss rod and 22 frets on a thick rosewood slab.

The open-back tuners are made by Grover, the bridge is fully intonatable, and the tremolo is reminiscent of the units found on Mosrites. In fact, the guitar’s playability is quite like a Mosrite’s, from its low action to its small-profile neck.

In lieu of a selector switch, there are separate on/off sliders for each pickup, and the volume and tone knobs are global.

Value

As only about 300 of these guitars were reportedly made, expect to pay between $1,200 and $1,800 bucks, if and when you find one.

But its rarity isn’t the only thing that makes it collectable. It plays great, sounds great and has a very cool modern/retro look.

Why It Rules

This guitar has its own voice, and in the end, isn’t that what we all want?

Plus it weighs only a little more than seven pounds, making it a guitar you could play an entire gig with.

Thanks to Wayne Coy, Iron Arrow and Dinette (for making a new pickguard).

A virtuoso performer and one of the first genuine stars of the electric guitar, Chet Atkins also embraced innovation, and drove it by encouraging new inventions that could help him move ever closer to his sonic ideals for the instrument.

Atkins had long been aware of the importance of the right pickup, and he matched various units to his Silvertone, Gibson and D’Angelico guitars before Gretsch courted him in 1954 to endorse the 6120 Hollowbody and 6121 Solidbody models.

The trouble was, Atkins didn’t much like the DeArmond model 2000 single-coils on his namesake guitars.

“I hated the sound of the pickups,” he told author Tony Bacon in 1995 for The Gretsch Book, “because the magnets were so strong on the string, you pluck a string and there was no sustain there, ’specially on bass strings. I was tortured pretty good until Ray Butts built that Filter’Tron pickup.”

An electronics whiz and music store owner from Cairo, Illinois, Butts designed the EchoSonic amplifier with built-in tape echo, which Atkins had previously embraced, in 1954.

When the guitarist griped about his DeArmonds, Butts knew just what to do: He designed a hum-canceling, dual-coil pickup, which he dubbed the Filter’Tron because it filtered out electronic hum.

Atkins whole-heartedly embraced it and urged Gretsch to adopt the pickup for its entire upmarket line.

Butts’ development of the Filter’Tron ran neck and neck with Gibson’s PAF humbucker, and while the latter beat Gretsch to the market by a nose, Chet was performing with the Filter’Trons one year earlier.

The Filter’Tron’s narrower dimensions and more sparsely wound coils contributed to a brighter, clearer sound than the broader humbuckers.

It established the classic rockabilly tone of the late ’50s, revived in the late ’70s by Stray Cat Brian Setzer, that has remained the benchmark to this day, and it proved powerful enough for heavy rockers like AC/DC’s Malcolm Young and the Cult’s Billy Duffy, too.

Scott Metzger is known for kicking out Grateful Dead grooves and whooping up cosmic electric licks in Joe Russo’s Almost Dead tribute act, as well as jamming with improv maestros like Nels Cline and John Scofield.

But when the live scene went dark due to COVID, Metzger followed a vintage Martin down an acoustic rabbit hole to create a cool, understated solo album.

Too Close to Reason (Royal Potato Family) is mostly moody and spacious, rather than chock full of burning chops, although Metzger is capable of conjuring fire.

Check into the Showdown Kids to hear his proficient gypsy jazz hands, as well as those of his violinist wife, Katie Jacoby, who also happens to hold down the fiddle gig in a little British Invasion band from London led by Pete Townshend.

To hear Metzger’s electric howl, turn an ear to his power trio WOLF! On the other hand, his new solo acoustic album is a truly singular effort. He plays every note, except for Jacoby’s delicate violin on “Only Child.”

Too Close to Reason is simply a lovely listen, and a departure from run-of-the-mill guitar showcases. Metzger is not trying to juggle five parts simultaneously or worried about pulling it all off alone onstage.

To cut the album, he simply followed his acoustic muse, either melodically or rhythmically, and then typically threw in a complementary track, plus another for texture. The result is kind of like a duo with himself, with some sauce on the side.

It’s refreshing to hear an electric guitar player taking a stab at an unplugged album in his own style, completely for its own sake.

Performed with a plectrum, Metzger’s effort falls outside the realm of flashy fingerstyle fabulosos or the jam-jazz world he usually inhabits.

The first single, “Don’t Be a Stranger,” is a slice of Americana built on a lilting melody that downloads direct to memory.

“Café Hidalgo” is a haunting minor mystery, and “When Katie Smiles” is classically inspired.

Metzger excels at playing in 3/4 time, and the latest release, “Waltz for Beverly,” has a wistful bounce.

How does your acoustic guitar approach compare to electric?

The acoustic is a completely different instrument that has to be approached completely differently, but hopefully I have a similar voice on both.

I try to incorporate more open strings and let them ring out to maximize resonation on the acoustic. The idea is to highlight its beauty by featuring the overtones and other elements that you can’t get out of the electric.

Two of your primary influences, Django Reinhardt and Jerry Garcia, blurred the lines between acoustic and electric styles. How did you get into Django?

I got to Django through the jazz guitar players I admired that he inspired. I grew up reading interviews with players like Jim Hall and Wes Montgomery, who would mention Django, so I picked up one of his CDs.

I think it was the third volume of Djangology, which was a lucky choice, because some of that stuff is stronger than others, and I fell in love with it immediately.

The feeling of swing and forward momentum in the groove was unbelievable, and his control over the guitar seemed impossible, covering such wide spans with so many arpeggios and other methods on the fretboard.

And then I found out he was doing it with only two fingers on his left hand, which led to more disbelief and deepened my obsession.

I formed Showdown Kids with Simon Kafka on guitar and my wife, Katie, on violin essentially as a vehicle to get my version of gypsy jazz out of my system, because I love that music so much. It’s a great way to blow off steam.

How awesome is it to have a wife that can play Stéphane Grappelli to your Django?

Well, that was a big moment in the courting process, I’ve got to be honest. When she picked up a violin and started playing the Grappelli solo on “Minor Swing,” I was like, “Oh, wait a minute. This has potential.” [laughs]

I definitely did a double take.

What element of the Django inspiration carries over into your own album?

The biggest thing for me is the way he emotes. He could sound angry or gentle, or anything in-between. His ability to set the mood made it very obvious.

It’s in his approach to dynamics, his sense of rhythm and all of the fundamentals involved with playing the guitar. I don’t think there’s a better example of a player having mastered them all.

What do you love most about Jerry Garcia’s playing?

Actually, Jerry would always mention Django Reinhardt in interviews as well, and I think it’s the Django influence in his playing that I love most.

That’s obviously more apparent in his acoustic playing, due to the nature of the instrument, but I don’t claim to be an expert on all things Jerry. I tread lightly when I get into Garcia’s stuff. I tend not to study it too much because I do so much of it with Joe Russo’s Almost Dead, and I don’t want to end up sounding like a watered-down version of Garcia.

I did get a chance to play his [Doug Irwin–built] Wolf guitar after it was auctioned off in New York City. Joe Russo put together a stacked lineup of players, including Nels Cline, John Scofield, Neal Casal, Cass McCombs and Tom Hamilton Jr. [from Almost Dead].

I remember that the guitar was very heavy, had a lot of switches and played great. It was amazing and nerve racking to hold such a piece of rock and roll history. All I could think about as it was handed off from player to player to take a solo was, I don’t want to be the guy that drops it. [laughs]

I had a chance to check out his 1943 Martin D-28 and had a similar feeling. Wasn’t it a vintage Martin that triggered your recent run of acoustic material?

Yes. Around late May of 2020, when it became clear that I wasn’t going to be touring that year, I decided it was a good time to fulfill a lifelong dream and add a nice vintage acoustic to my collection.I shopped around online and wound up buying a 1955 Martin 000-18 from Carter Vintage Guitars in Nashville.

I live in Brooklyn, so the salesman played a few chords over the phone and sent me a photo. It sounded good and I thought it looked cool. I actually wanted an instrument that had been played and looked beat up, not some collector-grade guitar.

When I received the package, it was perfectly in tune right out of the case. The clear, chimey tone pops right out. It doesn’t take much effort with the plucking hand to make it project. You can really feel the guitar doing its thing.

All of these melodies almost started playing themselves on this guitar. I couldn’t put it down, and there was nowhere to go anyway. I wrote over 30 songs within a few weeks.

The most unusual song with the most unusual sound is actually the opening track, “Appropriate Wattage.” Are you playing that acoustic with an EBow?

Yes, you’re absolutely right, well, it’s actually two acoustic guitars playing counterpoint off of one another. I used an EBow on both. There’s no pickup, just a microphone in front of the guitar.

To me, the sound is like when you rub your finger around the outside of a wine glass. It’s a very pure, crystalized sound. Every now and again the string would catch the EBow a little bit and make a sharp, metallic sound. I liked the contrast of those two things.

During the mixing process, [engineer] D. James Goodwin added in a lower-octave effect and drenched it in reverb. The concept was to have an off-center introduction that didn’t really have anything to do with the rest of the record.

The title comes from a conversation I had with Nels Cline about the appropriate amps to bring to a gig we were doing together.

The rest of the record has more of a rootsy vibe, and the first single, “Don’t Be a Stranger,” sounds like perhaps there’s a bit of a Chet Atkins influence?

The melody is nice and simple, almost like a Christmas song that’s hopefully catchy and has a bit of metric modulation in it on the back half. I was trying to highlight the dynamics of the guitar on the bridge.

It’s very quiet compared to the following melody as well as the outro, where there’s certainly a Chet Atkins influence. I went through a very big Chet Atkins phase years ago, and while I would never try to make an entire record in that style, it’s definitely a nod to that phase.

You just released a video for “Waltz for Beverly.” What’s the story behind that tune?

I was kicking around that melody, which is like an Irish reel, with no harmony supporting it at all. So I put that down and then worked up some changes behind it. I’m not a huge fan of playing to a click track, but it was necessary for this situation in order to put the pieces together cohesively.

What’s great about playing over a waltz rhythm?

The great thing about a waltz is that the feel can be either very sad or very happy. It can sound lonely or like you’ve got a spring in your step walking down the street, depending on the feel.

I’d like to think “Waltz for Beverly” threads the needle between both of those. It’s got a little bit of sentimental melancholy as well as a hopeful, very major diatonic sound.

There are three tracks: one straight rhythm, one straight melody and then a third track for atmosphere, with lots of harmonics, open strings and clusters of very close-voiced chords ringing over the top.

“Only Child” is a lovely lullaby in waltz time with your wife Katie on violin, and “When Katie Smiles” has an interesting feel because it sounds like a waltz with a rest on the third beat, like two inside three, right?

Simon is going to play second guitar on the gigs I have coming up and he said the same thing, so there must be something to it, but I think of “When Katie Smiles” as being in four.

It’s also interesting that the foundation sounds rather basic, and yet you play some of the most flowery melodies and almost classical-sounding flourishes over the top, wouldn’t you say?

Sure. And a lot of the chords are slash chords [with the bass note different from the root]. I went to see the Who a bunch of times because my wife plays with them, and Pete Townshend uses so many slash chords in his writing. That influence definitely came through there.

 The single-note stuff you’re talking about is playing upper harmonics and extensions over a different bass note [than expected].

How fun is it that you get to hang out at Who gigs?

It’s unbelievable. I don’t even know what to say. Sometimes I can’t believe my life.

Order Too Close To Reason here.

The guitar players who most influenced Browan Lollar serve as bookends of a sort. In style and tone, the guitarist for horn-heavy soul purveyors St. Paul and the Broken Bones hangs out somewhere between Steve Cropper and Radiohead, and never more so than on his band’s latest album, The Alien Coast (ATO).

“I’m so impressed with somebody like [Radiohead’s] Jonny Greenwood or Ed O’Brien, because those guys were guitar players in the biggest band on Earth,” he explains. “Then they were like, ‘We don’t want to be a guitar band anymore; we want to be an electronic band.’”

Lollar says he and his bandmates can relate, although he’s reluctant to make the comparison.

“Our band is sort of at the same point, where we’re like, ‘We don’t want to make that type of music or be known for one type of music,’” says the guitarist, who previously played in Jason Isbell’s 400 Unit band in the early aughts.

“We want to explore and really press ourselves. I find myself thinking about those guys a lot and what they would do in certain situations.”

After forming in Birmingham, Alabama in 2012, the octet became darlings of the festival and club circuits for its throwback look and sound. It didn’t take long for the band members to grow out of their matching suits, though.

Once their experimental streak began to show, they tugged on that thread and kept pulling it forward.

“A lot of times, especially these days, we’ll bring in something that’s totally written on a synthesizer,” Lollar says. 

Once the other band members get ahold of an idea, though, that synth phrase could end up as a guitar riff or horn blast. And for Lollar, that’s the fun of it. 

On the eve of releasing The Alien Coast, he talked with us about finding his place in an eight-piece band and coming of age in a music town with a backstory all its own.

You grew up near FAME Recording Studio. What was it like to develop around so many great musicians?

I lived over in Florence, which is just across the river from Fame. Everybody knew exactly what Fame had done back in the day.

I grew up going to bars and seeing people like Kelvin Holly, who was Little Richard’s guitar player for a long time, play to people who were just ignoring them. I thought you had to be that good to play at a bar.

Years later, after I started touring, I realized how special what we have there is.

How did your early recording sessions impact you as a young player?

We recorded the Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit [2009] record at FAME. That was the first time I’d actually been able to set up camp in there with a band, where we had the studio for a week and got to move in.

It was also my first real opportunity to get into the studio with all the toys and have time to experiment and do things that Jason didn’t have planned out before going into the studio. I still think about that session a lot.

Which players were you most impressed by growing up?

I loved Chet Atkins and Mark Knopfler, and people from the old style of playing. Then I got into more band-oriented players like Steve Cropper and David Gilmour. I felt those players knew their role and the spot in the music they needed to fill, and they filled it perfectly.

Steve Cropper isn’t flashy, but he would come in with a really raw sound. It was just crazy to me how he was able to make that Telecaster sound work in that setting.

For a long time I’ve been interested in guitar as an instrument that adds to a band instead of overtakes it, especially with St. Paul and the Broken Bones, because we’ve got so much stuff going on, and it’s so important to be dynamic in the band.

How did you find your place in such a large ensemble?

I had to discover that I didn’t have to go in there and be “guitar guy” and come up with riffs and stuff. When we first started, before [2014’s] Half the City, I told the guys I didn’t want to take a bunch of guitar solos. I didn’t think that this band needed to be a guitar solo-y band.

At that point in my life, I was pretty tired of it. I just wanted to focus on writing songs. Luckily, it doesn’t really lend itself to that, anyway.

Do you lean on any music theory tips or lessons to find complementary notes to what the horns are playing?

Very little. I’m the one guy in the band that isn’t great at music theory. I know it enough to have a grudging respect, because I have to. All our horn players can just spout the stuff off, and Al [Gamble], too, our organ player. I know what works and doesn’t over a certain chord.

What do you find most challenging about playing in this band?

There’s eight guys onstage, okay? All the low-frequency stuff is organ and bass. All the mid- to high-frequency stuff is pretty much covered by the horns, and all the high-frequency stuff with our singer.

Where does that leave the guitar player? For a long time, I was experimenting to find what kind of guitar tone really suited us.

Where did that journey take you?

I went from a [Gibson] ES-335 to an old [Gibson] Trini Lopez that I really love. It didn’t really work, though, so I went to a [Fender] Jazzmaster and finally settled on a [Southside Custom Guitars] T-style, because it’s got that Steve Cropper thing where it kind of threads the needle between all those other very rounded, beautiful instruments.

You’ve been upheld as a plug-and-play guitar player. Considering how far out you get on The Alien Coast, has that reputation held?

Yeah. Actually, it’s gotten a little better. When we fly, we’ve got 1,000 bags to get from point A to point B. Right now on my pedalboard, I’ve got one of those Cry Baby Mini Wahs, and I really like it a lot.

I’ve got a Boss ES-5 multi-effects processor; that’s what I use for flange and a little bit of echo. That goes into a Strata reverb pedal, and from there I go out.

I don’t have a lot of pedals because I have to focus on what I’m playing with my hands. If I start tap dancing too much, I can’t play well.

Your playing in this band is well suited to a combo amp. What are you using?

For a long time, I was playing the Supro Thunderbolt Plus, but our horn player Allen [Branstetter] is playing a lot of secondary guitar parts on the new record, and he’s going through the Thunderbolt now, and I’ve moved back over to a Fender Twin.

I can’t seem to get away from a Fender amp. Most of the time, if it’s not a Fender amp, I’m just trying to make it sound like a Fender amp.

As a band, it sounds like you threw out the rule book this time.

We have been evolving in that way ever since the second record. With this album, we asked about every single part of this record, “Does this song need this?” We didn’t just throw guitar on a track if it didn’t need it, and honestly that went for anything.

There’s barely any horns. We really just wanted it to be a challenge for us. We wanted it to be out of our comfort zone.

Order The Alien Coast here.

Given its vintage origins and feature set, this 1959 Gretsch Double Anniversary could easily slip under the wire as a classic in its own right.

As often as not, however, you’ll see it lauded for its stand-in status, hailed as a poor man’s 6120 Chet Atkins, since it left the factory with some 95 percent of the same specs as that hallowed collectible.

As it stands though, the Double Anniversary represents much of the best of Gretsch’s golden years, and at a fraction of the cost of another electric guitar that might come to mind whenever the description “PAF-equipped ’59 single-cut” is mentioned.

German immigrant Friedrich Gretsch founded the storied musical instrument company in Brooklyn, New York, in 1883, initially to make drums, banjos and tambourines. Guitars were added to the lineup a couple of decades later under the direction of his son, the next in a long line of “Fred” Gretsches to head the company.

Six-strings became a more and more prominent part of the catalog through the jazz guitar age, war years and into the birth of rock and roll.

Gretsch introduced the Anniversary in 1958 to celebrate the company’s 75th year in business, offering two models in two finish options each: the Anniversary, with one pickup, and the Double Anniversary, with two, available in either Sunburst or two-tone Smoke Green.

Although it was presented as a celebration model, Gretsch intended the Anniversary to be accessible to a wide number of players. It received the same body shape and construction as the flagship 6120 Chet Atkins model, but it lacked that guitar’s fingerboard and f-hole binding.

The Anniversary was also available in hardtail only, with a “G” trapeze tailpiece and no standard Bigsby option. As such, it was considered a fully professional model. But with a price of $225 for the Single and $310 for the Double – versus $475 for a 1958 Gretsch 6120 – the Anniversary could get a lot of hard-working guitarists in the door.

As the 1959 catalog put it, “This popular new beauty is the ‘sports car’ of the Gretsch line. Snappy, trim modern lines… exclusive built-in playing features that help give you the sound of distinction. A real knock-out in two-tone Smoke Green.”

Plenty of players agreed, and Gretsch sold a lot of these models. As mentioned, the Anniversary’s real USP was that it delivered the same basic specs and construction quality as more upscale models, at about 65 percent of the price (when considering the Double), lacking just a few strips of cellulose binding, which on many vintage Gretsch guitars has decayed or deteriorated over the years anyway.

Otherwise, the addition of the second pickup included the full current-spec control array, with a three-way pickup selector, independent volume controls for each pickup, a master volume and a three-way tone switch (positioned alongside the pickup selector on the upper bout).

Generally dubbed the mud switch for its ability to deliver two alternative sounds best described as dull and duller, the tone switch is considered next to useless by most players today. Some modify it with less impactful tone caps, while others just ignore it completely and leave it in the middle bypass position.

For today’s players, the 1958-’59 Anniversaries are especially noteworthy for having the Filter’Tron humbucker, Gretsch’s top-flight pickup from that time.

Developed at the behest of Chet Atkins by engineer Ray Butts (inventor of the EchoSonic amplifier with built-in tape echo), the Filter’Tron was neck and neck with Gibson’s own PAF for the title of first viable humbucking guitar pickup, and while it sounds very different from the fatter unit from Kalamazoo, it ushered in another classic rock and roll tone.

Although they remain more affordable on the vintage market than Gretsch’s upscale models, Double Anniversaries like the one shown here are becoming harder to find and getting more expensive, thanks to their plethora of desirable features.

The 1958-’59 Single Anniversaries, on the other hand, often cost half (or even less) than the Doubles. For that reason, they’re frequently snatched up and converted to Double status with a second pickup, either with extra volume controls or wired up hot-rod style, with the tone switch converted to a pickup selector fed into the single master-volume control.

While the ’58s are still great vintage sleepers, a construction change in late ’58 or early ’59 helped make the sophomore versions even more desirable.

These guitars received the next evolution of Gretsch’s trestle bracing – the parallel trestle-like post-and-bridge system that braces the back and top – which was somewhat lighter and thinner, and allowed for a more resonant guitar overall.

Gretsch continued to offer the popular Anniversary models well after the 75th celebrations had passed, and even into the 100th anniversary and beyond, and delivered several renditions in the reissue years.

Part way into 1960, however, the Anniversaries lost their Filter’Trons when the company introduced its own in-house HiLo’Tron single-coil pickup to replace the DeArmond Model 2000 aka Dynasonic single-coils it had used previously.

The HiLo’Trons are still very cool pickups, and plenty of players really dig them, but it’s hard to argue that they’re as desirable as a pair of original Filter’Trons.

Gretsch also changed the Anniversaries’ body construction somewhat through the ’60s as the company’s other models evolved, although it did not receive a zero fret until 1968, seven years after Gretsch’s upscale models received them, in 1961.

Gretsch even gave this “sports car” model a bound fingerboard in 1963. Despite the changes, and arguably lesser desirability compared to the ’59 models, many of the ’60s Double and Single Anniversaries still provide surprisingly affordable access to genuine vintage Gretschitude.

Experienced buyers of vintage models should look for issues such as binding deterioration and the possible need of a neck reset, but there’s often a lot of potential to be found for those who don’t mind taking on a project.

Fortunately, this 1959 Gretsch Double Anniversary comes to us with few issues, just a little discoloration on some of the binding, and a fulsome double dose of “That Great Gretsch Sound” courtesy of two “Pat. Applied For” Filter’Tron pickups.

And for all that, it’s almost as much fun to look at, lounging in its sultry two-tone Smoke Green finish, as it is to play. Well… almost.

Essential Ingredients:

• Archtop hollowbody made from laminated maple
• Single Venetian cutaway
• Light trestle bracing
• Two-tone smoke-green finish
• 24.6” scale length
• Two “Pat. Applied For” Filter’Tron humbucking pickups

• Save cash on the best electric guitars under $500

His name might not be as redolent of the glory days of English electric guitar gear as those of fellow pioneers Dick Denney, Tom Jennings, Jim Marshall and Dave Reeves, but Charlie Watkins was a major innovator of the golden age of British tube amps and effects. For that matter, he was supplying the scene both earlier and longer than any of those iconic designers and manufacturers.

Like JMI/Vox founder Jennings, Watkins was an accordionist and had just returned from his war service in the late 1940s, looking to get back into the London music scene. For a time, he scratched out a living playing in small local outfits, but like so many musicians, he saw the need for a proper day job.

With his brother Reg, Watkins opened a record shop in Tooting Market in 1949 before moving, in 1951, to larger premises nearby in his native Balham. There, they began to sell accordions and other musical instruments and soon became a hangout for local musicians.

Several years before JMI even began thinking much in terms of the electric guitar, Watkins saw the instrument’s potential popularity but despaired of his fellow musicians’ inability to be heard amid the noise of horns and accordions.

As he told Sound On Sound magazine in an interview published in 2015, after his death, “I thought, ‘I’ve put up with that long enough. I can do something about that. I’ll make an amplifier!’”

Watkins soon had a line of jobbed-out AC/DC amplifiers to offer, but he dropped it after a year or two due to the potentially dangerous dual-voltage power supplies. Taking the effort in-house to manufacture standard AC-powered units, Watkins achieved recognition with the iconic, V-fronted Dominator of the late ’50s and early ’60s.

But another product he released at around the same time actually became his biggest seller.

In 1958, slapback echo had been popular with American rock and rollers for a couple of years and was making inroads as the new sound in Britain and Europe. That’s when a pair of customers, returning from a visit to Italy, dropped into the shop to regale Watkins with talk of a performance they’d seen there.

The singer Marino Marini, who was enjoying a worldwide hit with his cover of Dominico Modugno’s hit “Volare,” had run his microphone through a pair of reel-to-reel recorders with one continuous tape loop rolling between them to recreate his distinctive vocal echo.

The sound had knocked their socks off.

Inspiration hit like “a bell that rang in my head,” Watkins told author David Petersen for The Guitar Magazine in 2000.

Determining that the system produced echo from the continuous tape loop, he compacted the engineering – with the help of engineer Bill Purkis – into a 12-by-eight-inch box, using a Gerrard gramophone motor for transport and adding a selector switch to tap three different replay heads.

Before he knew it, Watkins had devised a feedback loop that allowed a variable echo-repeat effect. The result was the first independent tape-loop-based echo unit in the world, and it signaled an impending sonic revolution.

“I had a sample unit in the shop, to see what the demand might be like,” Watkins said, “and meantime we got busy and built 100 units. I called them Copicats. The day I planned to put them on sale was a Saturday…

“I went to open up, and the door burst open with the press of customers. I remember selling the very first one to Johnny Kidd.” Kidd was the singer for Johnny Kidd & the Pirates, who in 1960 would have a number one hit with “Shakin’ All Over,” replete with Copicat echo.

“Those first 100 units sold that same day,” Watkins continued. “I sold so many of them that they paid for my first factory in Offley Road [in London], which I bought in 1961.”

To put a more precise number on the Copicat’s success, Watkins told this writer in the early 2000s that he sold “about a thousand Copicats a month” in the first few years of the ’60s.

The unit provided many British guitarists with a road to the popular slap-back and short-echo sounds they’d been hearing from American stars like Scotty Moore and Chet Atkins, and soon it was a major part of the British sound, gracing hits by Hank Marvin and the Shadows and many others.

The Copicat remained a good seller for Watkins throughout the ’60s, adopting the WEM logo (for Watkins Electric Music) when the namesake changed to that brand in late 1963 or ’64 out of admiration for the popular Vox products of the time.

Versions were made for Guild and Hagstrom (the latter under the Kent brand name), and the Copicat evolved into solid-state units later in the decade and into the ’70s, as well as branching out into other more complex variations on the original theme.

Versions of the Watkins/WEM Copicat remained in production well into the 2000s, though the current state of its availability or otherwise is unclear at the time of writing.

Charlie Watkins passed away at his home in Balham in 2014 at the age of 91.

Essential Ingredients:

• Originally powered by two ECC83 (a.k.a. 12AX7) and one 6BR8 tubes
• Continual tape loop
• One record head and three playback heads (four playback in later units)
• Pushbutton echo-time selectors
• Controls for gain, depth and repeats

A lot has changed since John Hiatt recorded The Eclipse Sessions in 2018, and his latest release, Leftover Feelings (New West), is all the more significant for a couple of reasons: It was made during the 2020 pandemic, and it was recorded at Nashville’s legendary RCA Studio B, during a time when tourists had virtually stopped visiting the historic site.

As Hiatt explains, “If the pandemic had any plusses, it was that we were able to get in there and record during the day. Normally you can only record at night at Studio B, and you have to break your gear down after each session. We got in there last October and we settled on four days. Every day we got tested, and when we were in the control room we wore masks and stayed apart and all that.”

It was worth the precautions to bring such a confluence of talent to bear on the project. Between the richness of Hiatt’s songs and the awesome musicianship of Jerry Douglas’s band – which includes Mike Seal on acoustic guitar and electric guitar, Daniel Kimbro on bass and Christian Sedelmyer on fiddle – Leftover Feelings is a superb, live-in-the-studio album that has the atmosphere of a very special room and the sense of togetherness that can only happen when players are in it as one.

However, it wasn’t a given that the project would actually take flight. “I think like everybody else I was initially just staying home, and I wasn’t terribly creative at all,” Hiatt says. “I was just fumbling around in the dark, doing some reading, but not really writing much.

“But after a while, I started writing some songs and making demos in my little home studio and got interested in that. Things that threaten life can also be life enhancing if you can turn them into something positive. To be able to make music during this time was just a miracle, and then to get together with Jerry and the guys and do the recording – we were just grinning ear to ear to be able to make music again after having not done it for a year.”

The album rolls out of the gate with “Long Black Electric Cadillac,” Hiatt’s whimsical nod to a “green” tail fin-festooned luxury ride. “I hope there will be a 1,000-mile battery in a long black electric Cadillac,” he says. “I’ll be first in line! It was fun to write that song and to start with something that had some levity. Then we head down to Mississippi [“Mississippi Phone Booth”] with another traveling song about a trip that a guy makes out of his personal hell, and he’s making the phone call home, saying, ‘Please don’t hang up on me this time!’”

Leftover Feelings is all about the light and dark contrasts in Hiatt’s stories, and so it follows that tracks like “Buddy Boy” and “Keen Rambler” offer respite to the album’s heavier songs, like “Light of the Burning Sun,” where he reveals the emotional weight of his brother’s suicide. “He was 21 and I was about 11,” Hiatt explains. “There were seven of us, and he was the oldest. So it’s the story of what happened and how it impacted the family, as suicide does. I was finally able to write a song about it.

“I write songs as kind of a way to get my bearings at a certain point in my life, or maybe figure out things by telling stories. I figured it was bound to come up, and it was good to write about it. I was kind of reluctant to put it on the record, to be honest, because I thought it was too dark. But Jerry said, ‘Man, people have been through this and have lost loved ones this way, and they need to hear it.’”

How was the decision made to record the album at RCA Studio B?

It’s funny, because Ry Cooder and I had talked about doing a project there when he was here in 2019, and we went and looked at the studio. And then we thought maybe we should do it at FAME, down at Muscle Shoals. So we kind of logged that, but we crisscrossed paths and the songs didn’t come together for that project, and we put it on hold. And then I started talking to my manager about what we might want to do for a new record, and he said, “How about Jerry Douglas?”

I thought that was a fantastic idea, and so when that came up, I immediately thought RCA Studio B. Jerry played with Chet Atkins, and he’s done a lot of recording there. He came to Nashville in ’78, about eight years after I did. But I never recorded there. It’s funny, because I wrote for Tree Publishing, which was just up the street.

When I came to town in 1970, the music business was on two streets: 16th Avenue South and 17th Avenue South. And all the publishing houses and all the studios, except RCA, were in houses. And next door to a publishing company would be a boarding house with six or eight songwriters living there. I lived just five blocks up the street from RCA, and my first year I rented a room in a boarding house with four or five other songwriters and paid 11 bucks a week for my spring bed, a hot plate and a bare light-bulb hanging down. I was writing songs and thinking I was all in it.

It’s interesting that you’ve come full circle to recording at a place that was once ground zero for country music.

When I got here, I didn’t write country songs and really didn’t know much about country music. Coming from Indianapolis, I wasn’t raised on it necessarily. I listened to AM radio as a kid. I knew Hank Williams and Jimmie Rodgers and some of that stuff, but I didn’t really know the depth of country music until I got out here and started getting schooled a little in what it was all about.

What was the live scene like in Nashville at that time?

The first year or two I was here, Tut Taylor, the great Dobro player, opened the Old Time Pickin’ Parlor, and people like Norman Blake, John Hartford and even Dylan played there. That was a place for acoustic music, and then I think, in ’70 or ’71, a couple of guys opened the Exit/In, and all of us sort of oddball singer-songwriters who had come to Nashville at the same time – guys like Chris Gantry, Jimmy Buffett and myself, who didn’t exactly fit the country-music mold – had a place to play.

I heard more great music there in the seven years I lived in Nashville, from ’70 to ’77. Everybody from Weather Report to Chick Corea to Larry Coryell and Eleventh House. I remember Billy Joel did one of his first gigs from Piano Man there, and I opened for him.

Did you rehearse much before recording, and were there any songs you worked on that didn’t end up on the album?

We only rehearsed once. I sent Jerry 16 or 17 songs, and he picked out 13 that he thought we should attempt. The guys made charts, and we got together and just ran ’em down. We didn’t want to get serious about any arrangement things; we just wanted to make sure sure we knew the songs when we went in to record.

So that took a day, and I think we went in two or three days later. We did cut an older song of mine called “Angel,” which was on the album Perfectly Good Guitar, and we recorded an acoustic version of “Slow Turning,” which didn’t make the record but may come out on something later. The first thing we cut was “Lilacs in Ohio.” I think we did three takes and everybody felt like we’ve got something going here.

It’s cool to hear a new version of that song, especially since there’s no drummer on this record. I didn’t even notice that right away, because the sound is so full.

You’re not the first person to say, “Jeez, we were halfway into the record before we realized there wasn’t a drummer on it.” I thought, Well that’s pretty good. Most of us stringed-instrument players fancy ourselves drummers anyway, so I think I kind of called it upfront and said, “Let’s just do it acoustically.”

I thought to just let the instruments speak, and it worked out pretty well. When this project came up, “Lilacs in Ohio” was the first thing I thought of in terms of being fun to redo and something that would lend itself to Jerry and his band. It was on Beneath This Gruff Exterior from 2003, so it’s been nearly 20 years since we did that rocking, four-piece combo version of it.

What originally inspired “Lilacs?” It’s quite different from anything you’ve written.

I stole the lyrics directly from a film called The Lost Weekend. It’s a black-and-white film made in the ’40s. Ray Milland plays a drunk, frustrated writer who can’t write the great book, and he sits at the bar and talks to Sam the bartender about it endlessly. In one of the scenes, he’s at the bar getting drunk and he’s talking about this woman he’s met and is infatuated with. He’s describing as he comes up to meet her in her building in New York City, and he says, “You notice how the gray of the light hits the gray of the drainpipe alongside her window. You’re there to have lunch with her, but she sends a note down regretting that she can’t come today, and you open the note and it smells like all the lilacs in Ohio.” And I thought, Man, what a beautiful image!

So I just stole the line and sort of told a fictitious story about a guy trying to write a book, and he’s trying to make time with this girl and his life’s a mess. So that’s where the story came from. You know, songs to me are about telling stories.

The album closes with “Sweet Dream,” which I’m guessing is a true story.

That’s kind of imagery from various trips I’ve taken crisscrossing the country over the years, and from hitchhiking when I was 17. I was actually up on Bear Mountain, and I was there the whole night because somebody had dropped me off on the old road and there was a new road that was sort of a bypass. It wasn’t until morning that I was picked up by the shoe salesman, as it says in one of the verses. So I used that imagery. It’s all about the sweet dreams that we hold on to in our passage through life. They are equal parts delightful and sometimes a little terrifying and scary.

What guitars did you use in the studio?

I played one acoustic guitar the whole four days, a 1946 banner-head Gibson LG-2 that I bought two years ago. I miked it with a gray AEA re-creation of an RCA R44 ribbon microphone that [AEA founder] Wes Dooley has created so lovingly. That was also my vocal mic, but it also caught a lot of my acoustic guitar, so it was just a matter of getting the balance between it and a second mic on the guitar.

On a video of “Terms of My Surrender” you’re playing a PRS acoustic. What’s the story on that?

I have two that I really love: an Angelus and a Martin Simpson signature model that has a wider neck. I love the sound of PRS acoustics. Paul Smith is more known for his electrics, but I think this Martin Simpson model sounds fantastic. It’s got a big, fat neck for fingerpickers, and I play with my fingers.

I used a flat pick for years, but I just lost that ability. I’ll tell you what happened: For 10 years – from when I was 40 to 50 – I was at a very amateur level driving race cars on oval tracks around the south. One day, a buddy of mine and I were in the pits working on my car because I thought the cooling fan wan’t cooling the motor, and I stuck my index finger right into it, as if to point out this is what’s wrong, and the tip of the index finger on my right hand got shredded all to hell.

I went to the hospital and they stitched me up so that I have a Y-shape scar on the fingertip pad, and from that point on it didn’t feel right holding a flat pick, so I just started playing more with my fingers. Ry Cooder for years had tried to get me to do that. He said with the fingers you get better tone.

But anyway, once that happened somewhere in my mid-40s, I went to using my fingers, and I use them, I guess, in a somewhat unusual way. I take the thumb and index fingers as if I’m holding a pick and I downstroke with the index finger as if I’m flat picking. But then I upstroke with the thumbnail, so it’s back and forth, and then I add the second finger and get an even more rambling rhythmic thing going between the three fingers. It’s kind of a Reverend Gary Davis approach, but I don’t recommend sticking your finger into a cooling fan to have a similar result.

Buy Leftover Feelings here.

It’s unlikely that Mac McAnally’s handiwork has escaped your notice. The master picker has been Jimmy Buffett’s sideman and a hit songwriter, and he’s been named Country Music Association Musician of the Year a total of 10 times.

Here are the top five riffs that shaped his life in music…

“Wildwood Flower” – Maybelle Carter

“We had an old Silvertone archtop guitar. It was too big for me to reach around, but my dad would sit and play ‘Wildwood Flower,’ and that was one of the first things I tried to play. Neither of us had a pick, so the Mother Maybelle thing was hard to do, but I used the back of my nail as a pick. I kept on with that for quite a while. Over the years in studios, I’ve played with a pencil, a razor blade. Anything that will make a racket on the guitar, I enjoy.”

Lester Flatt Lick

“The first band I had a job with was a country band in Iron City, Tennessee. The lead singer wasn’t much of a bass player – he would play random bass notes. I would reach over to his amp and flip the standby switch and kill his bass for the whole song. But his signature thing was at the end of every song, he would play the Lester Flatt lick in whatever key we were in.

“So he kept turning up his amp through the whole song, and at the very last chord I would flip the standby switch back on, and he would play an ungodly loud [sings lick]. That taught me a lot – maybe the edge of what you can get away with.”

Intro to “Alive” – Mac McAnally

“I grew up worshipping Chet [Atkins]. I got a little record deal when I was 19, and the folks at ASCAP brought me to Nashville right after the record came out and carried me to meet Chet. He said, ‘First song, second side of your album, you’re doing some weird frailing thing in E minor. Show me what you’re doing.’ So the way I met my hero was him asking me how I played something. That gave me a little boost in confidence, severely needed.”

“Blackbird” – The Beatles

“One of the songs that was kind of a hurdle I wanted to clear was ‘Blackbird.’ When I figured out Paul was just ringing the G string all the way through the whole song, I thought that was awfully cool. I was never trying to play it like Paul did; I just loved the notion of that common tone that rings in every chord in the song.”

“Give It Away” – George Strait

“Every once in a while in the studio you’ll get put in the hot seat, where someone says, ‘Come up with a little intro.’ I got it a few years ago on a George Strait record. I don’t know how good I played, but it got heard a lot. The swampy aspect probably comes from a combination of Mississippi Delta and Muscle Shoals, Alabama – all the R&B I played mixed with the country I played.”

Pick up a copy of Mac McAnally's latest studio album Once in a Lifetime here.

There is a new sound seeping into the world of country guitar. Drenched in slap-back delay, fuzz, reverb and tremolo, it displays more mood than chops but is firmly grounded in serious technique. Records by Lee Ann Womack, Aubrie Sellers, Andrew Combs and Elizabeth Cook feature guitar sounds closer to Daniel Lanois, Neil Young or even Sonic Youth than to Brent Mason or Dan Huff.

At the forefront of this wave is Ethan Ballinger, whose edgy work on the Womack and Combs records grabs the ear, provoking a WTF reaction and the question, “How does he get away with that?” Taking a seat in his East Nashville kitchen, Ballinger attempts an answer.

“My parents played in a bluegrass band called the Cluster Pluckers, so I never had a shot at being normal,” he explains. As it turns out, his raising was assuredly atypical. Not many guitarists’ parents hosted picking parties attended by the likes of Chet Atkins, John Hartford and Roy Acuff. “There’s a picture of me at three years old with a little toy banjo, jamming with Chet,” he says.

That kind of upbringing would normally lead to childhood playing bluegrass festivals, but at age five Ballinger became obsessed with his older brother’s music. “I was a grunge kid, and electric guitar was my true love,” he explains. Still, bluegrass called him back. “As a teenager, I stole my mom’s mandolin and got way into it. It was then that we started playing together, and now we tour and play as the Ballinger Family Band.”

While bluegrass helped him hone his considerable chops, his own music swerves in a different direction. “I’ve always tried to expose myself to a wide variety of things,” Ballinger explains. “Old country and bluegrass is in my blood, but rock and roll is also my roots. They both feel like home to me.”

He describes his 2012 recording, Don’t Lose It, as a meeting of Elliott Smith, Paul Simon and Pink Floyd. For his 2019 EP, Misery Hill (Bandcamp), he explains. “I was trying to be as melody driven as possible and less chordal. These goals are what make me wake up in the morning. I want to keep writing and exploring sounds.”

If there is a thread that binds Ballinger’s records to his studio guitar work, it’s a deep affinity for the way those sounds create emotions. On the aforementioned recordings, and 2015’s Tennessee Spring, feelings are evoked by the layering and processing of guitars, as much as by lyrical content.

“I’ve been obsessed with movies since I was a kid, which probably plays into it,” he says. “I think of music as organized sound instead of as a set of strictly regimented notes. I’ve always responded more emotionally to sound than to Western harmony.”

To that end, outboard pedals and effects play a big role in Ballinger’s guitar work. On Tennessee Spring, he signal-processed everything, even his acoustic instruments. As an example, he points to the solo on the track “ldky.” 

“I played that on a Gitane Selmer-style guitar, like the one used by Django Reinhardt,” he reveals. “I play in a gypsy swing band called Hot Club Time Machine, and I find you can dig into that guitar in a way you can’t on an electric. I played the solo on the Gitane and ran it through a bunch of effects after the fact.

Ballinger brings his love of sonic experimentation to his session work, as well. When the solo arrives in “Heart of Wonder,” a track on Andrew Combs’ Americana-based Canyons of My Mind record, his guitar explodes in a wash of fuzzy noise, culminating in some screaming bends. Apparently, more than letting him get away with it, the producers with whom he works actively encourage it.

“I would have an idea and they would push me to make it weirder. We’d arrive at something I never would have thought of,” he says. “We did that record at Battle Tapes Studio in East Nashville, where they have many pedals. It’s fun to try gear you’ve never used before; it can make you react and respond in different ways. I was trying different combinations of fuzz pedals. I can’t even remember what guitar I played on that. It was all recorded pretty quickly.”

A similar philosophy was at work during the sessions for Lee Ann Womack’s The Lonely, the Lonesome, & the Gone. “The only direction producer Frank Liddell would ever give is ‘Don’t do anything obvious,’” Ballinger says.

The resulting solos on “Sunday” and “Wicked” are more Hendrix than Hank, played on a three-pickup Silvertone 1454 semi-hollow strung with a D’Addario .010–.046 set. “That was my main axe for years. I played that guitar exclusively because it’s versatile,” he explains. “I also have Tele- and Jaguar-style Danocasters.”

Ballinger’s taste in amps and effects are influenced by his love of ambience. “I used my Gibson Falcon amp from the ’60s. I was going through a solid-state Echoplex, which warmed up the amp. The reverb and tremolo on that amp is special. I’m a pretty big reverb whore. I love amp spring reverb. It is darker and more saturated. I will use a short subtle delay or have a long delay as a wash underneath everything.”

On Ballinger’s road board, his signal path is tuner, volume pedal, DigiDelay, EarthQuaker Devices Spires double fuzz, Walrus Audio Julia chorus/vibrato, EarthQuaker Devices Palisades V2 overdrive and Strymon Flint tremolo and reverb.

“It’s relatively simple and allows me to get a good range of sounds,” he says. “For the studio, I bring my whole bag of goodies. I recently got a Maestro Phase Shifter, which I used on Aubrie Sellers’ new record. When you have new gear, it keeps you fresh, so I’m always acquiring things that sound weird.”

Ethan Ballinger is forging a career as a studio player, producer and solo artist by combining “weird” with a solid, but not obsessive background in traditional technique.

“I feel blessed that anyone would ever call me to mess up their record,” he says. “There’s a place for perfect, clean chicken picking. I spent a lot of time as a teenager chasing the technical things. But I wanted to do too many other things to pursue the virtuoso path. Also, I realized that most of the guitar players I liked weren’t the guys who could do anything. I think your style comes more from your limitations than from being able to play every style perfectly.”

While a sizable contingent of metal fans know John 5 from his long-time gig as Rob Zombie’s ghoulishly flamboyant shred master, guitar enthusiasts have a broader picture of him – that of a deeply eclectic and prodigiously proficient player schooled in country, bluegrass, western swing, jazz and flamenco. Whether he’s peeling off hyperspeed chicken-pickin’ lines, replicating cascading banjo rolls, or dispatching immaculate, sweep-picked solos, there seems to be no end to his knowledge or skill set.

“I appreciate anything that’s done well,” John states. “You could be throwing knives or juggling bowling pins, and I’ll be amazed.

“But with music, it goes a lot further. If I hear a bluegrass player killin’ it, I’m like, ‘I have to play that!’ And if I hear a metal player rippin’ it, my brain just fries. So I have to learn what they’re doing and execute it perfectly. I obsess over it, and I love it dearly.”

Being a musical omnivore comes naturally to John 5. Born John Lowery, he started playing the guitar as a kid from watching country pickers Roy Clark and Buck Owens on TV’s Hee Haw variety show. He eventually took a shine to rock after hearing bands like Kiss and Van Halen.

John admits that some of his fans might have more parochial tastes, but he takes delight in spinning their heads around. “They might come to my instrumental shows because they like what I do with Zombie,” he says. “But they’ll see me play some bluegrass licks, and they just go crazy. That makes me feel so good, because they’re seeing me for who I really am. I’m the guy who sits on my couch, watches TV and plays whatever I want.”

You started playing country music as a kid. How proficient were you before you discovered rock and metal?

Very. I was totally into it. I was way into Roy Clark and Buck Owens. And, of course, I loved Chet Atkins and other guys. That’s what was played in my house. My dad played it, and we loved it. That’s what I practiced as a kid. I would skip school, stay up late. It was practice, practice, practice. And I would keep at it until I had something down. Only after I had a piece perfect would I feel good about going to school.

Was it all by ear?

No. I would get tab and read music. I was really obsessive. I played so much as a kid that my left hand is bigger than my right. And I mean a lot bigger. It’s so strange. I think it was from stretching to get those chords and scales.

We know you for playing Telecasters, but what kinds of guitars were you playing as a teenager?

My first guitar was a black Magnum. That’s what I played to get going, but my first real guitar was a ’75 Strat. It was a good guitar, and I learned a lot on it. I actually met Stevie Ray Vaughan and had him sign it, but I sold the guitar to buy a Kramer. That was a bad decision, but you know, I was just a kid. I really wanted a Tele, though. I was seeing Buck Owens and all these guys playing beautiful Teles. I finally got one when I was about 15. I was so thrilled!

At what age did you start to figure out how to pair an electric guitar with the right amp?

Not till much later. I wasn’t really into amps. I just played. I knew Marshalls and Fenders were great, but I didn’t know why. If I could plug in and get some volume, that was good enough. I was just into practicing and learning.

The cleanliness and precision of your playing is redolent of Danny Gatton.

Oh, thank you! I love him.

There’s none of the reckless abandon – some would call it “sloppiness” – that even some of the finest rock players embrace.

Yeah, I’m not into that. You can still play with fire and be accurate. I made it my mission to get rid of the slop. I’ve always been an OCD clean freak, and that extends into all areas of my life. I want to keep my guitars clean, and I want my playing to be clean, too. If I play a line, I wanted it to sound like it’s all on one string. I want it that clean. I’ll play something a million times until I know it’s perfect. But I don’t want it to sound sterile. A guitar line should flow like water. Think of a classical violinist. That’s what I’m talking about.

Do you make allowances for how you play at different volumes?

You have to. I’ll practice something low when my wife and I are watching TV, but I notice that when I play the same solo for Zombie in a rehearsal room and I’ve got everything cranked, things sound different. Open-string runs don’t translate when they’re all distorted. And any time you play an arena, you know things are going to change because the acoustics are so echoey. A lot of times I have to change my solos around because the sound is going to bounce all over the place. I’m obsessed with things sounding perfect.

It’s a given that you play Telecasters. But what about amps?

I know Marshall doesn’t want to hear this, but I’ll play through anything and it will just sound like me. We were doing a show at a huge amphitheater, and all of my amps went down on the ride over. People were freaking out, saying, “We go on in two hours!” I just said, “Give me anybody’s amp. It doesn’t matter. I’ll play through anything.” I was the only calm one.

How about effects?

My pedalboard is so simple, even a child could use it. Everything is Boss: a Super Chorus, Noise Suppressor, the DD-3 Delay... That’s about it. Oh, and I used a Dunlop wah pedal and an MXR Talk Box. I guess they count as effects, right?

You seem to have one of those perfect front-man/guitarist relationships with Rob Zombie. What’s your secret to achieving that?

I don’t know if it is a secret. I have such respect for Rob, and he has the same respect for me. I love his music and what he does. I’ve always been a fan of his. Writing songs with him and performing with him onstage has been such a joy. Whatever I can do to help make him sound as great as possible is my pleasure. I’ve been doing it for 15 years now, and each year has been so rewarding. But I don’t think it would work if we didn’t have that mutual respect for each other. He’s a great guy.

John 5’s new album – Sinner – will be out on October 29 (just in time for Halloween.) As well as the digital version, you can purchase the physical album – signed – and in a variety of bundles from the official John 5 store.

Watch the video for the first track from the album – “Que Pasa” feat. Dave Mustaine – below...

The great blues guitarist Blind Lemon Jefferson recorded for Paramount from 1927 through 1928. As one of the earliest blues recording artists, he was among the first to attain exposure via disc. This, together with his genius, made him a monumental contributor to the blues as we know it.

Dubbed the father of Texas blues, Blind Lemon Jefferson’s influence has impacted many musicians, such as Lead Belly, T-Bone Walker, Charlie Patton and Chet Atkins, who called Jefferson “one of his first fingerstyle influences.”

His music has been recorded by a diverse crew that includes Bob Dylan, B.B. King, Phish and the Beatles, who covered his song “Match Box Blues” as “Matchbox,” learning it via Carl Perkins. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame named the song one of the 500 that shaped rock and roll.

That said, much of Jefferson’s history is conjecture, contradictory or unknown. The son of sharecroppers, he was born blind, or partially blind, in Texas, in 1893 or 1894. He died sometime after 1930 either by exposure, a heart attack or foul play. In any event, his recordings survive, and they are, fortunately, filled with certainty and truth.

Jefferson’s blues guitar playing was similar to ragtime piano, with a counterpoint that implied a left- and right-hand piano approach. “Low Down Mojo Blues” is terrific example of his command of the guitar, as he stabs and caresses triads interlaced with turnarounds. “Match Box Blues” features a wonderful melody, as does “Bootin’ Me Bout,” where he knowingly lays down a strong downbeat. “Lemon Worried Blues” almost sounds like two guitarists, yet it’s relaxed with none of the posturing of virtuosity that might distract from the melody.

While you may not wish to learn a Jefferson piece note for note, you can easily cherry-pick from his goldmine of turnarounds, bass runs and clever dominant-7th triads, and his piano-like approach. His guitar style is like a mini-orchestra of players who prefer whisky to wine, and his playing perfectly supports his fiery singing.

There are many reissues of his Paramount sides. Browse Blind Lemon Jefferson albums here.

One of the most popular classical guitarists, and a successful pop crossover artist, Liona Boyd has been hailed by no less than Andrés Segovia and Chet Atkins for her musical virtuosity. Here are five reasons she is an acoustic guitar legend…

1. Masterful Education

Born in London in 1949, and raised in Canada, Boyd began playing guitar at 13 and quickly excelled on the instrument. While a student at the Guitar Society of Toronto, she studied with classical guitar greats like Segovia, Julian Bream, Narciso Yepes and Alexandre Lagoya. 

“Segovia told me I was playing too fast… Julian Bream helped me with Bach… Lagoya, of course, concentrated more on tone,” Boyd told Guitar Player in 2006. “But the one thing all of these masters provided more than anything else was inspiration. It wasn’t just technical advice – they would get me fired up.”

2. Collaboration

Unusually for a classical guitarist, Boyd took an interest in popular music genres early in her career and has frequently performed with rock and folk artists. In the 1970s, she was Gordon Lightfoot’s opening act on a successful tour that saw her play in sold-out ice hockey arenas. 

A performance in Nashville brought her to the attention of Atkins, and, together with John Knowles and John Pell, they recorded the country/classical crossover album The First Nashville Guitar Quartet in 1979. Boyd has also recorded with Eric Clapton, David Gilmour, Alex Lifeson and Rik Emmett, among others.

3. Off the Beaten Track

Boyd has occasionally performed in uncommon settings. In 1975, she went on the road in British Columbia and Yukon, where she paid her dues touring in frigid temperatures and playing for appreciative crowds “in all the remote, snowbound communities of northwest Canada,” she writes in her 1998 memoir, In My Own Key: My Life in Love and Music. 

With Atkins’ help, she landed an appearance on the NBC morning news/talk show Today early in her career. Most unusually, during O.J. Simpson’s 1995 murder trial, Boyd performed in a federal courthouse to entertain “bored-stiff jurors” at the request of the presiding judge, Lance Ito.

4. Diversity

After recording in the classical genre for many years, Boyd began exploring Latin, jazz, easy-listening and new age music starting in the mid 1990s. Her 2002 release, Camino Latino, showed off her talents as an interpreter and composer of Latin styles and saw her performing with guitarists like Al Di Meola, Steve Morse, and Strunz and Farah.

5. Adaptability

Following the release of Camino Latino, Boyd was diagnosed with focal dystonia, a neurological condition that causes involuntary muscle contractions and abnormal postures. To compensate, she developed her songwriting and vocal skills and performed less-demanding guitar arrangements. 

Her later albums – including 2009’s Seven Journeys: Music for the Soul and Imagination and 2015’s Relaxing Guitar for Insomnia, Dreaming and Romance – have leaned increasingly toward a mix of classical and new age.

In all, Boyd has racked up five Gold and three Platinum albums over her career and earned five Juno awards, Canada’s Grammy equivalent. She’s also a five-time winner of the Guitar Player Readers’ Poll for Best Classical Guitarist and has been inducted into the magazine’s Gallery of Greats.

There are dedicated music lifers who grind out gig after gig, and then there are musicians who are literally born into the business. Nashville-based singer-songwriter Lillie Mae can lay claim to both. Born with a prodigious musical talent and a busker’s hustle, Lillie Mae Rische could strum a guitar before most kids can write their own names.

She honed her chops on the road, traveling with her family in an RV and performing alongside her parents and siblings at churches and makeshift venues around the country. “My style of playing with a pick just developed around playing live,” she says of her early touring days. “I play this way because I couldn’t keep up, or you could never hear it, so you have to play with a pick as opposed to doing some fingerpicking stuff.”

After the family band split, she and her siblings landed a regular gig under the name Jypsi at Layla’s Honky Tonk on Broadway in Nashville. They inked a seven-album deal with Sony and charted two country singles – “I Don’t Love You Like That” and “Mister Officer” – before the label dropped them.

Lillie Mae kept writing songs and playing live, though, eventually earning a spot in Jack White’s touring band. When it came time to focus on her own songs, White signed her to his Third Man Records.

Lillie Mae’s songwriting is rooted in traditional country music, but on her latest album, Other Girls, she wraps them in surrealistic melodies and high-desert drama. Recorded with producer Dave Cobb and a small circle of family and friends at Nashville’s RCA Studio A, the record finds her leaning into her classic country roots on the yearning shuffle “Blue Heart,” and she channels Led Zeppelin’s “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You” on the minor-key “You’ve Got Other Girls for That.”

You were born into a traveling musical family. At what point did they put a guitar in your hands?

I was four when I started playing guitar; I was seven when I started playing fiddle. The first songs I ever learned on guitar were “All I Have to Do Is Dream” by the Everly Brothers and “Sloop John B” by the Beach Boys.

Did you become more proficient on fiddle or guitar first?

Fiddle, for sure. Fiddle was my main instrument. I always played guitar for myself, but I didn’t record on guitar ’til I was 19. My brother is one of the best guitar players alive, and that’s the truth. There was no need for a guitar player in our family outfit growing up, so I just played it for myself.

You busked and had a regular gig on Broadway in Nashville before joining Jack White’s band. How did you land that?

My sister Scarlett and I had been called in for a session. They were looking for a female fiddle player and a female mandolin player, so they called me and asked if I could bring my sister. Jack was working on a soundtrack at the time and Blunderbuss, his first solo album [from 2012]. The first thing that we did was for this soundtrack, but they just kept calling, so we did a bunch of session work over there before they asked if I’d go on tour. And I went on to do the next tour, as well.

When did he first hear the songs that led to you signing with Third Man?

When we first started recording, I was always playing in between stuff, just picking and singing. I think that, in one of the first instances, I was literally writing a song or had just written it, and I was trying to play it back. He overheard it.

That led to your solo record, Forever and Then Some, which had a straight-forward country style, with lots of traditional instruments. What influenced the change in direction on Other Girls?

It just happened naturally. I play with lots of people, and the type of music that I’ve played for ages has a lot of soloing or musical parts. There aren’t any solos on the new album, which is very different for me, so it’s just particular to that album, I think. It’s focused less on musicianship and more on the songwriting, I reckon.

Was there a particular type of album that you were kind of setting out to make?

No, not at all. It never is whatever you expect that you’re going to do. It’s always a little different. I just had a boatload of songs written. Those are just the ones that made the cut, but there was nothing ideal in mind.

What inspires you in your guitar playing?

My favorite type of guitar playing is Chet Atkins-style fingerpicking. I love that stuff. I do a little bit. I cross-pick a lot. I’m not a very good mandolin player, because my wrist doesn’t move very fast, so I started playing that cross-picking style simply because I could never get my wrist to move fast enough to keep up with the fast bluegrass rhythm. I just developed that in-between style. But my heart lies with fingerpicking.

When I really discovered how much I loved guitar, my friend Luke Skidmore, a really amazing fingerstyle picker, sat with me and taught me a lot when I was, like, 16. I recorded with his band on projects for fun. He gave me a Jim Croce album and some other fingerstyle picking stuff, and I remember just sitting there for hours trying to figure it out.

Do you find yourself using that technique for songwriting?

I do a lot at home. I don’t ever do it live. But if I’m at home or something, I play with my thumb. That’s what comes natural to me.

There is some impressive picking on songs like “Golden Year.”

Well, thank you! I wrote it the day before my golden year birthday was over. We were playing at the Refuge, which is an amazing place in Appleton, Wisconsin. Afterward, I remember I was grabbing stuff and carrying it out, and I just heard it. It was like all the parts were being sung to me by angels, and that’s the truth. So I was like, Okay, I’ll find a pen. My brother had just cleared out of his room, and I sat down on his guitar case and wrote it all out. 

But that was one of the songs where all the parts were written with the song, and the ending, especially, was just natural to the song. Usually I write on the guitar, but for this instance I didn’t have an instrument. It just came through me so quickly, I had to get it out. I was just imagining the chords in my head.

What guitars are you partial to playing?

The only guitar that I actually own myself is an old Harmony guitar that was given to me by another friend ages ago when I was 15 or 16. For years, I have played my brother’s Bourgeois. I’ve been playing on my boyfriend’s 1952 Gibson for this whole tour. Actually, when we were recording I was playing that. It’s a little ’52 LG acoustic guitar. 

I played a Martin Civil War reissue on one song, and I just wasn’t in love with it. But Jim Lauderdale dropped a couple of his guitars off at the session, because he knew I didn’t have anything at the time, so he swung over a Collings, a couple different choices to play. So I just played everyone else’s guitars on the album, which is what I’m doing now. That’s always what I do. It’s pretty funny.

You may be the first guitar player I’ve ever spoken to who just plays whatever’s there.

I know. I depend on the grace of other people. My boyfriend has a pretty amazing collection of guitars, so I’m really lucky to just get to be around these wonderful instruments. My dream guitar is a Gibson Byrdland, and hopefully I’ll have one one day. I love that thin neck and short scale, but they’re awful pricey. Maybe I’ll get one when I retire. Or a Hofner. I’m a big fan of Hofner electric guitars.

Order Lillie Mae's Other Girls from Third Man Records here.

Keb’ Mo’ has been such a fixture on the acoustic roots scene for the past quarter century plus that it’s easy to take him for granted. That would be a major mistake, however. The Grammy-winning master fingerpicker and slide stalwart is still challenging himself and listeners, both onstage and on record.

His 2019 release, Oklahoma (Concord), features inventive songcraft and interesting acoustic instrumentation, as well as important contributions from players like Robert Randolph, Taj Mahal and Rosanne Cash, and producer Colin Linden.

While Oklahoma would go on to win last year’s Grammy Award for Best Americana Album the guitarist took his solo acoustic show on the road, giving him ample room to display his chops. As he reveals, when it comes to his shows, guitars and music, a great amount of technical and creative decision making is at work.

What design elements are most important to you on an acoustic guitar?

I like a smaller box with 12 frets to the body, and I prefer a wide fingerboard with enough string spacing to really get in between and do some fingerpicking. I like the sponginess in the way a 12-fret plays, and there’s something about the anatomy, perhaps the location of the bridge in relation to the soundhole, that makes it sound sweeter and feel more resonant.

When I had a chance to work with Gibson on a signature model, I asked for a parlor-sized 12-fret because I wanted something I would actually play as my own main instrument on- and offstage. “The Way I” is a good example of its sound. Having 14 frets to the body can be convenient, but as Chet Atkins used to say, all the money is in the first few frets anyway. [laughs]

Didn’t you also work with Martin on a limited-edition signature dreadnought with 14 frets to the body?

Yes, but that was back around 2003, when I was going for a bigger sound. I wound up combining the stylistic elements of a D-45 and D-18, and I chose Hawaiian koa for the back and sides, making it somewhat exotic. The Martin was my main guitar for a long time before I adopted the Gibson Bluesmaster as my primary flattop. I also use a Martin 00-18 quite a bit on gigs, in open tunings as well as standard tuning dropped down a whole step when I want a wooden-body sound for playing slide.

How about when you want a steel-body sound?

I mainly use a National Reso Rocket, which is a single-cone resonator that’s based on a tri-cone design. The Reso Rocket is cool, because it delivers the resonance of a 12-fret guitar, and it’s got a cutaway so you can slide up high on the neck. My other main resonator is a Republic guitar that I use to get that really nice cheap sound.

What kind of slide do you prefer?

I exclusively use the Mudslide by Moonshine Slides. I love the feel of the Mudslide because it’s thick without being too heavy like some thick metal slides. I like the sound of a ceramic slide because it doesn’t make any noise when you drag it across the strings. I use medium-gauge D’Addario EJ17 Phosphor Bronze strings for my slide guitars, including the Martin, and the light EJ16 set for fingerpicking on the Gibson.

What’s your M.O. when it comes to finger picks?

I’m generally an either/or type of player. I use finger picks when I play steel guitar because I like the clankiness they bring, and I like the warm sound of fingers on a wooden guitar. But I’m experimenting with using just a thumb pick on the wooden guitars.

Did you use any other acoustic guitars on Oklahoma?

I used an acoustic guitar that was handmade by Will Hirsch out of Northern California to play the title track in DADGAD tuning. I also played a Bedell nylon-string on that song. Robert Randolph played lap steel over the intro vamp and on the outro.

How did all the elements on the title track come together?

I wrote the music and started singing “Oklahoma” over the hook. It sounded right, but I’m not from there, and I like to be authentic. I eventually did a songwriting session with a lady I’d just met named Dara Tucker, and it turned out she was from Oklahoma. We finished the song together.

Buy Oklahoma by Keb' Mo' here.

“Nobody knows more about electric guitars than Chet Atkins. And nobody makes better guitars than Gretsch.” So said a 1977 magazine ad for the Gretsch 7680 Atkins Super Axe. As it turns out, this guitar actually is special and considerably different from what had become the Gretsch norm. This was the fabled picker’s last build for the company, coming after the Nashville, Tennessean and Country Gentleman models he helped design.

It’s not clear how much of a hand Chet had in the Super Axe. Some suggest the guitar was a collaboration with Duke Kramer, who was Gretsch’s business manager (among other things) at the time. The aforementioned ad quotes Chet as having said, “In all modesty, I think my new Super Axe is the ultimate guitar for the rock guitarist,” but of course he would take credit for a guitar that bears his name. Besides, it’s just ad copy.

Whatever the truth, the Atkins Super Axe is all about sustain. It sports a large but slender solid mahogany body, humbucker-style pickups and, quite unusually, a built-in compressor and phaser that are powered by a nine-volt battery.

Weirdo Factor

For one thing, it doesn’t really look like a Gretsch. That said, it’s strikingly beautiful and sports a familiar clear orange stain, one of three available finishes, along with grey and brown. The solid mahogany body is wide but thin, with thick cream binding on both sides that tapers toward the edge, giving the impression that the front and back are arched. 

While beautiful to look at, it also makes the guitar more comfortable to play and lighter – at about seven pounds – than you might expect, given its size. But the truly weird factor here is the built-in effects. This wasn’t exactly innovative – Vox had done something similar years earlier – but it was decidedly unlike Gretsch.

Playability & Sound

Being a Gretsch, the guitar plays and sounds as great as it looks. The phaser is musical and has blend as well as a depth/speed control. The compressor sounds as good, if not better, than anything available back in the day and stands up to any stompbox compressor I’ve heard. Overall, the Super Axe sounds very, if you will, Nashville-ian in a clean setting, but has great sustain with a distortion box, thanks to the compressor circuit’s sustain control.

The glued-in maple neck is slender and fast and has an ebony fingerboard with cool square inlays and 22 medium-jumbo frets that are neatly dressed into the binding to eliminate sharp edges. The Japanese-made humbucker-style pickups sound nice but not great due to their fairly low output and lack of a distinctive sound. They are governed by just one volume and tone control, presumably to make room for all the other knobs and switches.

The intonatable bridge is a simple one-piece Badass wraparound, and the tuners are German-made high-ratio Schallers that still work as smoothly as the day they were made.

Value

At the time of its release in the late 1970s, the Atkins Super Axe cost close to a thousand dollars, which is what you might have paid for a Les Paul Custom. Today, these beauties command only about $1,500 at auction. That’s a small price to pay for an excellent, American-made vintage guitar.

Why it Rules

Produced for only a year or two, the Gretsch Atkins Super Axe doesn’t sound or look like any other guitar out there, and is light, easy to play and versatile. The effects sound great and are easily accessed from the football-shaped control panel.

Check out more great Gretsch guitars here.

Lenny Breau has been revered by some of the world’s greatest guitarists for his stylistic range, technical fluency and uniquely expressive musical voice. From his early country recordings to his landmark jazz sessions, flamenco stylings and collaborations with artists like Chet Atkins and pedal-steel guitarist Buddy Emmons, the Canadian-raised Breau was and remains a touchstone for anyone who loves or plays acoustic or electric guitar.

Beyond his talent on the instrument, he could sing and had the looks and personality to be a star. His death in 1984, under mysterious circumstances, cut short an impressive career in which he took the guitar to new heights.

Breau’s life and exceptional ability have been remembered and celebrated in a pair of documentaries from his daughter, Emily Hughes. They include 1999’s The Genius of Lenny Breau, which received a Gemini Award from the Academy of Canadian Cinema & Television and was in recently remastered and reissued; and Hughes’ 2018 follow-up, The Genius of Lenny Breau Remembered.

Together, the films create a compelling portrait of a guitar master and the significant impact he had on other players, many of whom speak on camera about his talent and influence. The word genius gets thrown around all too easily, and that’s precisely what makes the title The Genius of Lenny Breau so fitting.

Breau so effortlessly blended jazz, classical, country, flamenco and other styles that the resulting music can only be described with his name. This documentary vividly proves that point, with world-renowned masters like Atkins, Andy Summers, Pat Metheny, George Benson and others reminiscing about Lenny in glowing, awestruck quotes. Breau’s brilliance truly comes through, however, in his playing, both on the soundtrack and in the rare archival performance footage.

The film contains stories about Lenny the child prodigy playing with his musician parents, and even touring with them at the age of 14. There are great scenes with Atkins, who befriended and mentored a young Breau, and interviews with monster players and top-level educators who try to describe just how far ahead of the pack he truly was.

Breau’s sense of melody, harmony and counterpoint made the virtuosic playing of legends like Atkins and Jerry Reed seem almost simplistic by comparison. Metheny earnestly states at one point, “He came up with a way of addressing the instrument technically that nobody had done before, and nobody has ever done since.”

Many of the interview subjects talk about Breau’s signature technique – his gorgeous cascading harmonics – and it was typically the first thing guitarists asked about when they met him. Metheny and others marvel at not just the technique, which is so personal to Breau’s style, but also at his willingness to demonstrate and share it.

That generous and open spirit is an overriding theme in the film, and Andy Summers and Randy Bachman both tell fascinating stories of getting lessons from Lenny and the profound impact that study had on them.

Throughout The Genius of Lenny Breau, we get to see Breau work his magic on a variety of instruments, including nylon- and steel-string acoustics, a Baldwin hollowbody and his custom Kirk Sand 7-string, which featured a high-A string. The film’s classroom scenes, where he plays that guitar through a Yamaha combo, provide an amazing glimpse into his unique approach to chord voicings and the sheer ease with which he employed his phenomenal technique, always in the service of the tune.

Breau is remarkably affable and humble in front of the class, whose students are clearly blown away by the level of skill they’re witnessing. Lenny’s genius could be accompanied by demons, however, which ultimately contributed to his tragic passing. Hughes unflinchingly examines her father’s struggles with drugs and alcohol and his toxic relationship with his wife, Jewel, creating a riveting and heart-wrenching story to accompany the gorgeous soundtrack.

But the film is still, ultimately, a celebration of Breau’s gifts and the lives he touched. Because of his uncompromising artistic vision, coupled with his premature death in the pre-Internet era, his music understandably never received the recognition that it deserved, and this powerful film goes a long way toward rectifying that injustice.

Following the release of her first documentary, Hughes discovered more footage of her dad, and many additional guitarists emerged with tales they wanted to share. Those stories, along with outtakes from the original film, add up to more than two hours of bonus material, which is presented in the five featurettes that make up The Genius of Lenny Breau Remembered, a companion piece to Hughes’ original film. The chapters are titled “Innovation and Influence,” “Humility and Humor,” “Drugs,” “Beyond Reasonable Doubt” and “Stories,” and they further illuminate Breau’s visionary musicality while shedding light on his substance abuse and death.

The musicians tell a big part of the story here. Among them is Phil deGruy, who comes across as not only a great guitarist and huge fan (“Lenny was like the first guy on the moon!”) but also a dear friend. Steve Vai and Brent Mason both show a deep knowledge and appreciation of Breau’s work, and the interviews with Ted Greene – some of the last ones he did – are particularly insightful. His emotive playing is beautiful, and he’s able to clearly demonstrate aspects of Lenny’s style. Greene also articulates how Lenny’s delicate touch and sensibility lent an incredible elegance and gentle quality to his playing.

The darker aspects of Breau’s life are candidly examined in “Drugs” and “Beyond Reasonable Doubt.” It’s intriguing to hear guitarist and friend Stephen Anderson talk about the effects various substances had on Breau’s abilities. (Apparently, he could play great on heroin, less so on booze.)

Tommy Chong and others speculate how certain drugs facilitated Breau’s musical vision at times, but they all emphasize that the vision was always there. For a lesser artist, these might be defining narratives, but Lenny’s genius allowed him to withstand and rise above it all – everything except, of course, his murder.

Although the film can’t prove it conclusively, the signs point to Jewel as his killer. While the tragedy clearly continues to affect the interview subjects, it’s a testament to Breau’s brilliance that the grief never overshadows his music.

What The Genius of Lenny Breau Remembered ultimately leaves us with is the deep love that his guitarist friends have for both the man and his music. Although, or perhaps because, every one of them is in awe of his undeniably otherworldly abilities, they are still able to grin and laugh when recalling their stories of the guy and his talents.

Fellow Chet disciple John Knowles smiles as he sums it up superbly: “If Lenny were around today, he’d still be leading the pack, because he had such a big head start.”

Rent or buy these incredible films – The Genius of Lenny Breau and The Genius of Lenny Breau Remembered – here.

When it comes to musical influences Tommy Emmanuel and Richard Smith are kindred spirits. With a deep-rooted love of Chet Atkins, the pair immediately hit it off and spent hours playing together.

“I heard about Richard through other players at the Chet Atkins events in Nashville,” recalls Emmauel, “and when we first met up, we played until we were exhausted! I had found someone I could have the best time playing all the music I loved from my childhood and who had a similar attitude and energy!”

Due out on September 10, Emmanuel’s new EP - Tommy Emmanuel Accomplice Series Vol. 2 with Richard Smith – pays homage to their duetting guitar heroes Chet Atkins and Jerry Reed by following in their footsteps with four choice covers: “Serenade to Summertime”, “Twichy”, “Nashtownville”, and “Baby's Coming Home”.

Recorded at TuneSmith Studio near Nashville, TN earlier this year, Emmanuel and Smith’s rendition of “Serenade to Summertime” originates from the Atkins/Reed album, Me & Chet. And in this brand-new video for the song – the first track from Emmanuel’s forthcoming EP – the love for their heroes’ formative playing styles is tangible as they duet on acoustic guitars.

Speaking of the new track Emmanuel points out, “It’s a typical melodic piece that Chet would have chosen to showcase his tenderness in a musical setting. Richard really stayed close to Jerry’s perfectly honed part as the accompanist and I tried to perform the song without too many frills or embellishments, just heart and feeling.”

Following the EP’s release, Emmanuel and Smith will be touring together from November 5. Click here for more information.

20 years to the day, the guitar world lost one of the greatest and most influential players of all time: Chester Burton Atkins aka Chet Atkins. In the years leading up to the rock ‘n’ roll revolution of the 1950s, Chet Atkins was to Gretsch what Les Paul was to Gibson – a bona fide visionary, a musical virtuoso, and a talented recording engineer who not only leveraged significant influence on the design of the electric guitar but also taught the world how to play this newfangled instrument.

This amazing TV clip from the mid-1950s filmed soon after Atkins began his longstanding collaboration with Gretsch in 1954 shows exactly how he managed to do that. Here he is, a young man in his prime, playing an early permutation of his debut signature model, the 6120 Chet Atkins Hollow Body. 

Later adopted as an instrument of choice for quintessential Gretsch rock ‘n’ rollers Eddie Cochran, Duane Eddy, and Brian Setzer the 6120 makes up a set of four classic Gretsch models that also includes the Round Up/Jet-style 6121 Chet Atkins Solid Body; the budget-friendly 6119 Chet Atkins Tennessean; and “Mr. Guitar’s” personal favorite, the 6122 Chet Atkins Country Gentleman.

As the ultimate guitarist’s guitarist Atkins' influence lives on today both in terms of technique and guitar design. Explore Gretsch’s current line up of Chet Atkins-inspired models here.

Released in 1990 on Columbia Records, Chet Atkins and Mark Knopfler’s Neck and Neck remains my all-time favorite Chet record. Although it’s certainly not a quintessential example of his work and style, it’s a world-class example of great craftsmanship and well-seasoned guitar playing. 

The masterful production was overseen by Knopfler. Les Paul once said the first song of a set is when the audience is checking out what shoes you’re wearing. In some ways, that’s how I feel about the Neck and Neck opener, “Poor Boy Blues.” Although this vocal track won Best Country Vocal Collaboration at the 1991 Grammy’s, it’s probably my least-favorite song on the record. 

That said, it’s an easygoing invitation to the second track, “Sweet Dreams,” which is so relaxed and lovely, it feels like one is laying on water while having a pleasant dream. 

To me, the great Ray Flacke original “Tahitian Skies” is the perfect guitar composition. On this track, the guitars’ sounds are perfectly clean but still have a depth of character, and sometimes join forces with pretty harmonies.

The melody is something you think you’ve heard before but can’t place. Truth be told, I’ve tried to rewrite “Tahitian Skies” numerous times: “Maceo” on Orange, “Alana” on Dream Dictionary, “Molly Harvey” from Last Night, This Morning and “D’Boat” from Table for One all owe a serious nod to “Tahitian Skies.”

I still haven’t been able to seize the poignant beauty Chet and Mark seem to have effortlessly captured on the gem, but I keep trying.

Aside from being a great listen, Neck and Neck serves as an example of how a well-crafted guitar record can be totally satisfying. It never overexerts itself, and it never leaves the realm of trying to be beautiful. Moreover, Chet and Mark have nothing to prove. Every sound is in service of the songs. It’s not a guitar record about guitar — it’s a guitar record about music.

The inventive arrangement exemplifies the powerful subtle touches all over Neck and Neck. The original tonic G major is prefaced by a B7 chord that pulls us to Em. Together with the following A7, this has a ii - V tonality, but the A7 still functions as the secondary dominant of the upcoming D7 chord.

Forgive the theory analytics. More simply, Chet and Mark change one chord and the result is a whole new tonal landscape. It’s a brilliant addition. Meanwhile the guitars play simple, captivating melody lines that I’d be hard-pressed to edit. I couldn’t veto one single note. 

Their musical lines are as memorable as the song’s original melody. Underneath it all, the rhythm section softly percolates as Paul Franklin plays perfect steel pads and the legendary Floyd Cramer brings his iconic stylistic piano fills. It’s a little masterpiece. Neck and Neck has many other high points.

Chet displays his vaudevillian charm on “There’ll Be Some Changes Made,” and it’s hard to believe the banter is anything but off-the-cuff. It’s never tedious upon repeated listenings (see Chester & Lester). I chuckle every time Knopfler mumbles, “A little old?” when Chet sings about updating his style to fit current rock trends.

What follows is a tour de force of guitar trade-offs, including double-stops, chicken picking, open-string cascades and the six-string kitchen sink. The result is a perfect conversation between these two guitar masters, without ego or sweaty ambition. Chet and Mark are simply speaking to each other while we voyeuristically eavesdrop.

Some classic Chet Atkins style is showcased on “I’ll See You in My Dreams.” The Chet two-beat serves as a canvas for 64th-note arpeggios, 6th chords and open-string ring phrases, while retaining an effortless, relaxed cool.

There’s a great version of Django Reinhardt’s original composition “Tears,” and while its changes are necessarily easy for mere mortals, Chet and Mark make it sound like a nursery rhyme filled with a melancholy introspection. Mark O’Connor’s fiddle dances playfully over the melody while the two guitars sound simultaneously stark and huge.