Johnnie Lin continues the tradition, playing guitar instrumentals on the streets of Brisbane, Australia. What sets Johnnie apart is the beauty of his music, as well as his Eric Mongrain-influenced lap-style slapping technique. This video by Benny Kaz captures him at work:

We found Johnnie via Facebook, and sent a message to ask if he’d be up for a ten-question interview. Thirty seconds later, he responded.

***

What’s the best part of playing on the streets?

Getting to see people’s reaction towards what I do keeps me going to play on the streets. It’s really different than doing a gig in a venue or sitting at home in my room – the atmosphere and people’s smiles. I have been told that my work made their day, that they get inspired by me, and at the same time I’m getting inspired by the things they say to me. It’s a really good way to connect with people.

What’s the most challenging aspect?

Getting up to prepare and carrying my heavy amp and guitar. Every now and then I will have people causing trouble, but it’s usually fine to deal with. At first it took a lot of encouragement, and I thought I wasn’t good enough – what if people didn’t like my work? But at the end of the day, I know that it’s worth it seeing the amount of smiles on people’s faces.

Can you describe your musical background?

From when I was young, I was able to identify the sound of music. I was always interested in becoming one of those musicians that contributes their work to society. When I was in school I got a keyboard with no weights and about 36 keys, and I wanted to learn classical piano, but it didn’t end up happening. When I was 13 years old I finally got my first acoustic guitar, and I wanted to learn to play pop songs. One day I saw the “Canon Rock” video on YouTube. This was an arrangement done by JerryC of a classical song, [Pachelbel’s] “Canon in D.” I immediately feel in love with the sound of distorted guitar and fast picking techniques and stuff.

So I spent most of my years learning about shredding on guitar with techniques such as sweep picking and two-handed tapping, as well as hybrid picking. While I was in school, I would find ways to jump onstage and show people what I can do, and also interact with other musicians. So I ended up being in the high school jazz band and learning the tuba for the classical side. Later on I did a pop music course for about two years before realizing I’m more into the instrumental side of music, which seemed like the best way to express my music rather than strumming chords for others.

About five years ago I got into the sound of rock fusion players, and I was really curious as to how they play those notes that sound so different compared to average shredders, which then led me to develop an interest in learning jazz. Now I’m currently doing a jazz guitar degree in Brisbane. The place is called JMI (Jazz Music Institute, jazz.qld.edu.au), and it has completely changed my views of music in a really great way.

What inspired you to develop your overhand, lap-style playing technique?

Erik Mongrain’s “Air Tap” was a song that made me realize how you can play guitar on your lap. I also enjoy stuff such as Andy McKee, Mike Dawes and many others; it’s a completely different side of guitar playing, and I love the sound of it!

Is your guitar set up a special way to accommodate your unorthodox technique?

Well, there isn’t anything particularly special. The setup of the guitar and amp is just like every other player’s, but the guitar brand name, Cole Clark, is well-known and popular for this style of acoustic tapping.

Do you use open tunings?

Yes. E Ab B E B E was the tuning I used in my video, and I also like the D A D G A D, as well as also trying to experiment with different tunings.

Do you play guitar the standard way as well?

Yes, that’s what I do most of the time nowadays since I’m doing a jazz guitar degree.

What amp works well for street performance?

There’s a street amp by Roland which is good. Also, many brands make portable battery-powered 15 watt amps, which is the one I used in the video.

Have you made any commercial recordings yet?

No. I would really want to get on to it, but I’m studying full-time, which makes for less time for me to compose.

Anything else you’d like Pure Guitar readers to know about you?

I turned 21 recently and I busk around Westend area in Brisbane. You can reach me at facebook/guitar.johnnie. Feel free to ask any questions or anything. And I think finding happiness in music is the best thing that has happened in my life – I really wish one day I can share it with the world. I also love playing piano, so hopefully I can get something done and share it.

YouTube: Yes, Beyond and Before

Their self-titled first album, released in July 1969, featured Banks’ distinctive blend of jazz and psychedelia, all through his Rickenbacker 1997. Songs like “Beyond and Before” and “Harold Land” featured solos that stood out like beacons from the era’s blues-oriented rock landscape.  Yes’ second album, 1970’s Time and a Word, was slathered with a live orchestra that almost smothered some songs, yet it still bore many trademark Banks excursions, highlighted by “Sweet Dreams” and “Astral Traveller.” But even before the album was released, Banks packed his gear and left.

A detour through Bloodwyn Pig led to the formation of Flash, which released three albums between 1972 and ’73, with only one minor hit, the very Yes-like “Small Beginnings” from its debut, Flash. Perhaps Banks’ most memorable work with Flash was on their sophomore release, In The Can’s “Lifetime.” Regardless of Flash’s inability to catch commercial fire, Banks was able to stretch out as both guitarist and as songwriter, now using a Gibson ES-335.

In 1973, as Flash dissolved, Banks hit the studio to create his first of four solo albums, The Two Sides of Peter Banks, accompanied by some of Flash’s members and loaded with future prog-rock heavyweights including Genesis’ Phil Collins on drums and Steve Hackett on guitar, King Crimson/Asia bassist John Wetton, and Focus guitarist Jan Akkerman. Banks performed with Empire on three albums, and appeared on dozens of albums by other artists. In later years, he intersected with Yes and Yes spinoffs on several occasions, and sometimes with other prog-rockers. Peter Banks passed away on March 7, 2013, reportedly of heart failure.

The album features a few notable special guests, including J.J. Cale, Paul McCartney (who both sings and plays bass on the 1930s classic “All of Me”), Steve Winwood, Jim Keltner and Chaka Khan. Of the twelve tracks on the album, ten are covers, including Gary Moore’s “Still Got the Blues” (with Winwood), George and Ira Gershwin’s “Love Is Here to Stay,” and Leadbelly’s “Goodnight Irene.” The two original songs are called “Every Little Thing” and “Gotta Get Over.”

The 67-year-old guitar legend recently announced that he plans to quit touring once he hits 70, chalking it up to the high price he pays for first-class travel in order to take the sting out of long months on the road. “The bit onstage, that’s easy,” Clapton told Rolling Stone. “If I could do that around my neighborhood, that would be great… But for me, the struggle is the travel. And the only way you can beat that is by throwing so much money at it that you make a loss. So the idea is… When I’m 70, I’ll stop. I won’t stop playing or doing one-offs, but I’ll stop touring, I think.”

Before then, Clapton is embarking on a Spring tour capped off with the two-night Crossroads Guitar Festival at New York City’s Madison Square Garden on April 12 and 13. That event will feature guests including B.B. King, Buddy Guy, Jeff Beck, Allan Holdsworth, the Allman Brothers Band, Gary Clark Jr., Robbie Robertson, Robert Randolph and Vince Gill.

Clapton recently unveiled the Eric Clapton Crossroads Guitar Collection, a Guitar Center-exclusive line with a significant proportion of the proceeds benefiting Clapton’s Crossroads Centre in Antigua for the treatment and education of chemically dependent persons. The collection includes replicas of a pair of the most iconic instruments from throughout his career – the original Fender “Brownie” Stratocaster and Gibson “Lucy” Les Paul – as well as three signature Martin acoustics designed by Eric. “Lucy” is the Les Paul Clapton gave to George Harrison, and it was subsequently used when George played on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” on the Beatles’ White Album. “Brownie” is also known as the “Layla Stratocaster,” and you can see it on the back cover of that classic album. It was Clapton’s first-ever Strat, with a heavily worn maple neck dating from 6-56.

The three Martin models (the 000-28EC Madagascar Rosewood, $5,999; 000-45EC at $12,999, and the 000-45EC Brazilian Rosewood, $49,999) are handcrafted to Clapton’s specs by the C.F. Martin Custom Shop. The Crossroads Collection also includes straps by Ernie Ball featuring premium Italian leather and hand-stitched threading.

“It’s been my experience that the proper guitars, like those in this Collection, are just made for playing – the motive behind the making of the guitar is 100% right,” Clapton says. “They are beautiful guitars; from the inlays to the rosewood they are unique from one another. One would be inclined to take care of and be in awe of them.”

D’Addario and Planet Waves recently launched the Planet Waves do-it-yourself guitar pick customizing website – BuildAPick.com. Build A Pick’s easy-to-use interface lets you design D’Addario/Planet Waves Celluloid guitar picks (both sides, and in four-color!), which are then packaged in bulk bags of 100 picks. The whole process, including choosing among four different gauges of picks (light, .050mm; medium, 0.70mm; heavy, 1.00mm; extra heavy, 1.25mm), takes just a couple of minutes. You can store your design for later retrieval, editing and re-ordering, too. The price per pick drops according to the quantity you order, and domestic (U.S.) shipping is free.

Here’s how easy it is to order these custom picks:

Go to the web site, and select your country. Then select your pick gauge…

Check out the instructions. Read them, and then click “Get Started”…

Click the front or back and then choose a background color and (if you want one) upload an image – a photo, your band’s logo, whatever. Make sure you own the image or have permission to use it – no point starting your band’s life in court over a copyright issue. Insert up to three lines of text in your choice of color and font. There are a lot of font options, so you can be serene or make it look like a ransom note…

As you build your design, the image(s), background color, and text are shown…

Beautiful. Now review your design…

Give your design a name, select a quantity, provide an email address, and proceed to the checkout by clicking “Order Picks Now.” Follow the instructions, and you’ll eventually end up at your shopping cart. Use a credit card, and check out. Wait by the mailbox, and your picks will arrive in a couple of weeks.

© Allen Clarke

Australian acoustic virtuoso Tommy Emmanuel and his UK counterpart Martin Taylor have played together many times over the years. Now they’ve finally cemented their musical union with The Colonel & The Governor (Mesa/Bluemoon Recordings), an album of duets that capture the spirit of their telepathic musical interplay.

The pair met in the ’90s after Emmanuel caught Taylor on an Australian TV show. “I was so amazed by his playing, I rang the TV station and they gave me his hotel details,” Tommy says. “I immediately rang him and invited him to play with me at a beautiful theatre in Sydney. We hit it off like brothers and musically had a wonderful chemistry.”

That chemistry was cemented when, during periods of heavy touring, the pair would send each other emails with song suggestions and mp3s, including some of Martin’s rare recordings of artists like Eddie Lang, Django Reinhardt, Carl Kress and Charlie Christian. “We also wanted to have some original songs on the album and Martin’s songs suited so well,” Emmanuel says.

The album title is inspired by the guitarists’ nicknames for each other. Beyond their jokingly conferred titles (Emmanuel is the Colonel, Taylor the Governor), both are serious “men of letters.” Emmanuel is an honorary Kentucky Colonel, a recipient of the Order of Australia (AM) medal, the holder of an honorary masters, and one of only a handful of CGPs (Certified Guitar Player) anointed by mentor Chet Atkins. Taylor is an M.B.E. (Member of the British Empire) and holder of two honorary doctorates.

© Allen Clarke

The pair are about to take their musical rapport out on the road again, with shows in the UK throughout March. “Martin likes to have as much fun as I do on stage – that’s important to me,” Emmanuel says. “I have learned so much from Martin, as he comes from a jazz background and I come from a country and rock background. I think we both have a strong love of melody and arrangement that allows our playing to interweave effortlessly and sometimes it feels like time stands still when we are playing together. Martin once introduced me on stage as ‘the abominable showman” – I have always called him ‘The Governor.’”

The album is out now in Australia and may be purchased from certifiedguitarplayer.com ahead of its wider release in the first week of March.

Tommy Emmanuel & Martin Taylor
The Colonel & The Governor Tour Dates

Saturday 2nd March
Belfast, Ulster Hall
www.ulsterhall.co.uk

Sunday 3rd March
Limerick, University Concert Hall
www.uch.ie

Monday 4th March
Cork, Opera House
www.corkoperahouse.ie

Tuesday 5th March
Dublin, Helix Theatre
www.thehelix.ie

Wednesday 6th March
Basingstoke, The Anvil
www.anvilarts.org.uk

Thursday 7th March
Aylesbury, Waterside Theatre
www.atgtickets.com

Friday 8th March
Gateshead, The Sage
www.thesagegateshead.org

Saturday 9th March
Manchester, Bridgewater Hall
www.bridgewater-hall.co.uk

Sunday 10th March
Wolverhampton, Robin 2
www.therobin.co.uk

Tuesday 12th March
Barnstaple, Queen’s Theatre
www.northdevontheatres.org.uk

Wednesday 13th March
Exeter, Corn Exchange
www.exeter.gov.uk/cornexchange

Thursday 14th March
Bristol, Colston Hall
www.colstonhall.org

Saturday 16th March
London o2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire
www.o2shepherdsbushempire.co.uk

Sunday 17th March
Folkestone, Leas Cliffe Hall
www.atgtickets.com

Monday 18th March
Crawley, Hawth Theatre
tickets.hawth.co.uk

Wednesday 20th March
Ipswich, Corn Exchange
apps.ipswich.gov.uk/PEO

Thursday 21st March
Chesterfield, Winding Wheel
www.windingwheel.co.uk

Friday 22nd March
Halifax, Victoria Theatre
www.calderdale.gov.uk/victoria

Sunday 24th March
Ulverston, Coronation Hall
www.corohall.co.uk

Tuesday 26th March
Aberdeen, Lemon Tree
www.boxofficeaberdeen.com

Thursday 28th March
Edinburgh, Queen’s Hall
www.thequeenshall.net

After releasing their self-titled 1968 debut album, Soft Machine toured the United States with the Jimi Hendrix Experience. That first album featured Ayers’ many facets –  primarily on bass – including lengthy ostinatos on his Gibson EB-2, an echo-enhanced bass solo, bass with wah-wah, and fuzz bass. Shortly after the Hendrix tour, an exhausted Ayers left the group, taking his guitar, bass, wry wit, and distinctive, quirky, basso voice. Soft Machine dissolved, but reformed in 1969 with Hugh Hopper stepping in to fill the bass slot (Hopper remained until 1973).

Though he had left Soft Machine, Ayers wasn’t done, by any stretch. After a brief hiatus, he began writing songs in earnest and started work on his first solo album. He collaborated with other artists, including Brian Eno, Pink Floyd co-founder Syd Barrett, John Cale, and a young Mike Oldfield on guitar and bass in The Whole World band, which preceded Mike’s monster hit album Tubular Bells. Ayers’ first of more than a dozen solo albums, Joy of a Toy, was released in late 1969, and included his old Soft Machine bandmates; in fact, until his final release in September 2007, The Unfairground, Ayers would call on his old Soft Machine mates, Roxy Music’s Phil Manzanera, and those with whom he had played in Soft Machine’s precursor, The Wilde Flowers.

Ayers’ love/hate relationship with the music business lasted throughout his career; there were long stretches between touring and recording. It was likely his initial impact with Soft Machine will best define Kevin Ayers’ contribution to the big bang of psychedelia and pop in the late ’60s. A thorough documenting of Ayers’ life up to and including his time with Soft Machine is included in Graham Bennett’s book Soft Machine: Out-Bloody-Rageous. Plenty of videos of Ayers performing with Soft Machine in 1967 and 1968 are available on YouTube. Their pop/psychedelic blend is perfectly captured in this one, called “Soon, Soon, Soon”:

Kevin Ayers passed away on February 18, 2013.

The bounce and versatility of Menn’s first album shows that she has no delusions about the business she’s in. She knows that the competition is fierce, winners are the ever-diminishing minority, and the stories of also-rans are seldom told. Standout “Valentino’s Victory Lap” from Hale Souls sums up the ensuing take-no-prisoners approach with swaggering aplomb. Shimmering arpeggios, blazing harmonic detours, shifting time signatures, and unexpected reincarnations of foregoing themes are just some of the ammunition she detonates on this cut. Repeated listening brings even more cheer, but Menn instantly comes through as a believer in either doing things all-out or not doing them at all.

As the record unfolds, you also find another, just as convincing side to Menn’s character that fuses contemporary guitar with her knowledge of the baroque. Never mannered or imitative, on her more introspective acoustic cuts she goes for the essence of the genre that preaches dialogue not only between two melodies, but also within the composer’s inner self. Airy, beautifully textured soundscapes such as “Is It Not Strange” are steeped in mathematical baroque sensibility, yet the goal remains exploration as opposed to simply following the rules.

But Menn’s survey of the past doesn’t end with the baroque. You can hear Jimmy Page’s phrasing, Eric Johnson’s languid sweetness, and Steve Morse’s jazz-inspired adventurousness in her style. At times it seems that the most vivid colours of rock guitar have been put through her own prism to create a new picture. But far from profiteering, instead she gives historical depth to her material, just the way it was always done by great players before her.

Daughter of Don Menn, who for many years was the editor of Guitar Player magazine, Gretchen began studying music with classical guitar lessons. From the baroque comes her knack for clarity, while rock has shaped the more visceral side of her musical character. And it perhaps wouldn’t be too far-fetched to suppose that the reason why Menn prefers meaning over bombastic chops has something to do with the fact that her father is a writer. After all, writing, as was once observed by a poet, teaches a lesson in laconism and harmony.

Menn’s inventive, yet crystal-clear approach to composition and the clean sharpness of her delivery come as a refreshing breather on the young guitar scene. With focus on writing, she rejects ostentatious production and chops for chops’ sake – despite her technique being very dapper and diverse. Curiously, the fact that she started on the guitar rather late – at the age of 19 – may also have had something to do with her sense of perspective and having bypassed self-obsession or the adolescent need for self-assertion.

But when you speak to Gretchen Menn, another thing also becomes transparent – her responsibility to herself and to her craft as opposed to designing something to sell. Even when it comes to videos – that classic vehicle for adding an extra market value to music – she chooses style over sensationalism. And style reflects character: Menn refuses to bait the indifferent or to shout about non-conformity. As she tells me over the transatlantic telephone line connecting her home in California with England, “I’ve never expected music to make me any money. If it does – fantastic, but it’s my passion. What more do I need to ask of it?”

Do you think enough time has passed since the release of your debut album for you to take an objective look at it?

That’s a really good question. Since I don’t know how it’s going to be in five years, or two years even – it being my first album, I don’t really know what the general kind of process is in terms of getting objective. But I do feel like I have a specifically more objective view than I did when I was in mixing. That’s when you are really zoomed in.

Technique-wise, what would you say is the most challenging aspect of this record?

Hmm. That’s a really good question. It’s funny because a lot of the things that are the most challenging initially are the things you tend to devote a lot of your practice time trying to master. And so ultimately the things that are the most challenging will tend to be the things that become the most solid. But I know the things that tend to be the most evident if I’ve neglected them, even for a short period of time, are probably the things that involve precise alternate-picked lines that have large string skips. Those are probably are the ones that need the most maintenance.

Were all parts on Hale Souls worked out in advance, or are there examples of improvisation?

Most of it was quite composed. Of course, I love improvisation. There is something really beautiful about it. And, actually, sometimes the line between composition and improvisation can get kind of blurred, inasmuch as I’ve always viewed composition as selective improvisation, and improvisation as spontaneous composition. So you might be in a studio having worked out a piece that you know how it’s gonna go, and then you have an idea, and you tell the engineer, “Wait. Hang on a second. Let me kind of figure this out.” And then maybe you’ll play it three or four times, especially if it’s something that might be more technically challenging than the first take allows you to feel fluent. And so on one hand it’s not exactly composition, because it did happen kind of organically, and on the other hand it isn’t pure improvisation in a way it would be if somebody said, “Okay, ready. We hit record and now just play whatever comes into your mind at that very exact moment.” But I would say that as far as Hale Souls is concerned, it was very composed – a lot of the pieces, things like “Fading” or certainly “Is It Not Strange.” That one has so much counterpoint and so many different lines going on, there was no room whatsoever for improvisation. Things like “Déjà Vu” and “Oleo Strut” had a little bit more spontaneity.

How do you compose guitar instrumentals? Do you hear the complete harmonic and melodic structures in your mind right away, or do they develop as you go along?

You know, it’s kind of funny. Being, in my mind, a much newer composer, so far the thing that’s kind of fun about being where I am is I don’t really have any rules at this point. And I don’t really have any tendencies – I don’t think – at this point. Some things took a long time to write and involved a lot of different conceptions of a piece, and it would sound one way for one bit, and then sections would change. And other things were a lot quicker. So a piece like, say, “Walking Shadow,” the violin piece for solo violin, that happened really fast. It was really organic. Sometimes you can get into this flow where things are happening kind of simultaneously. It isn’t like you hear something entirely – like I didn’t hear the entire piece in my head – but I felt as I was writing it, it was just kind of coming out, almost the way you would with a sentence. When we go to say a sentence, it isn’t like we think the entire sentence first, and then say what we’ve preconceived. It’s almost like we know what we intend to say, and it just sort of comes out, and some of them come out sounding nicer than others.

But I’ve had things where I’ve sat down to give myself an exercise where I said, “Okay, I’m going to try to write something that has these qualities, or these characteristics.” And then it’ll just kind of happen, and something that went from being an exercise turned into a piece of music – for instance, the piece “Fading.” I’m very new to the technique of tapping. And somebody had shown me some sort of exercise that involved something that had to do with tapping. And then I kind of thought, “Oh, wouldn’t it be interesting to have harmonies kind of melt one into the next where one of my hands is outlining one arpeggio, and the other one is outlining notes that are complimentary to that arpeggio. But then if I move one of my hands, the entire harmony changes, yet three or four of the notes stay the same.” That allows these harmonic fades one into another. So that whole concept ended up becoming a piece. Other things, I’ll dream a melody or just out of nowhere a rhythm would hit me, or something like that. Unlike somebody, say, like Jason Becker, who said he, apparently, dreamed the entire piece of “End of the Beginning.”

And Marty Friedman said to him, “Don’t you forget it,” and he forgot! [Laughter.]

I know, I can’t even imagine that! But maybe that’s because I’m a newer composer. I don’t know! [Laughter.] So involved!

Is your choice of what technique to use at any given moment spontaneous, or is it something that you plan ahead?

Technique, meaning tapping or picking or…?

Or volume knob, yes.

Usually they become something where maybe in the moment you just felt them, and then you end up sticking with them. So, say, on “Déjà Vu,” when I came up with just the chord progression to begin with, I had this kind of feel for what emotionally the piece of music was seeming to call for. The volume swells – it was just no question. It just seemed that that’s what the piece wanted. Some things are more spontaneous, but I think what ended up happening is that anything that happened spontaneously with Hale Souls happened in the pre-production phase. And then when it came the time to actually record everything, I’ve made my decision and settled on things. But sometimes there are still little moments here and there that sort of happened magically in the moment.

Do you compose on the guitar or – perhaps – some other instrument, or without it?

I do all, actually. I either compose at the guitar, away from any instrument, or I have a computer notation program that I use. So I either compose at the guitar, or on paper notating, or with my computer program that notates. Or sometimes I’ll just hear something in my head, and if I’m trying to remember it, I’ll either notate it on paper – if I have paper – or if I have nothing handy, I’ll just use the voice record function of my phone and sing it to myself so that I’ll remember it for later.

On the “Oleo Strut” video you are seen actually notating music on paper. Is that something that you use both for composing and refining your music?

I do it more for composing because I feel that once I can remember the basic idea, then everything else will come back to me. Actually, in “Oleo Strut” the music that we had in the video, that is the actual hand-written music for “Oleo Strut.” And it wasn’t necessarily in clean score form, like “here is measure one going all the way to the end.” That piece was composed mostly on the guitar, and then I would write out the more complex sections so that I could remember them. So yeah, sometimes the scoring things out comes first, and sometimes I’ll write things down in notation form so that I don’t forget them, especially if it’s a more involved melody or harmony or lick or something like that.

When you work on writing music, do you need a place of solitude?

Not at all, oddly enough. It’s nice, it’s wonderful if you do have that, but I’ve come up with things where I am literally warming up for a show. I’ll have my headphone amp on, and there is total chaos around me. Actually, I remember one thing that I wrote, it was down in a club in San Diego. And I was supposed to be running through the set with the band I was playing with, and I just came up with something and ended up writing a hefty chunk of something that later went to become a piece with the band I was playing with. And it was in the middle of pre-gig chaos. There are certain phases of the writing process where it’s definitely helpful to have solitude, and it’s never a problem to have solitude, but it feels that I’ll often be writing stuff in the middle of chaos.

Does your own music ever surprise you? Do you ever listen to a playback and go, “Oh, I didn’t know there was this aspect to my character?”

Yeah! That’s a good question. Absolutely. It’s funny because I’m not really a dark person at all. I certainly have a great appreciation for the sick and twisted, but I’m not a particularly brooding person by my inherent wiring. And every now and then I’ll hear something that I wrote, I’m like, “Man, I didn’t know I was so dark or so angry!” [Laughter.] So yeah, sometimes. Something like “Scrap Metal,” you think, “Wow, I didn’t really know this was part of me, but I guess it is.”

Could you walk us through how one of your songs evolved – from first conception to final release?

Absolutely. If there’s one that you have in mind, I’d be happy to see if I can reconstruct it.

I was wondering if “Valentino’s Victory Lap” would be a good example. Or any other track.

Okay, sure. That one happened rather quickly, actually. I came up with the introduction of it just really fast, like I just sat down and just played it. I actually didn’t intentionally write it in odd meter. It was what it was, and later I went back and had to analyse it when I was going to have other people play it with me. So I came up with the introduction of it, those arpeggios, and all of them, actually. The whole way it moved around and everything, I just sat down and wrote it probably in just a few minutes. And then the rest of it also felt really organic. It was probably a week or so before it sounded like something that you would recognize as “Valentino’s Victory Lap,” or maybe a few days.

And then that piece was interesting because it seems like I’m always writing things that challenge me technically. There is something rather hilarious about not being able to play your own music. And on the other hand I also think, “Well, you know, I guess that’s a good thing. I don’t want my technical limitations to limit me creatively.” Nor do I ever want my music to be driven by technique. At least for me the technique I strive to get is only for musical fluency. I have no interest in writing music simply for technical impressiveness, but I certainly also don’t want to be limited by my inability to play something. So some of the stuff that I wrote for “Valentino’s Victory Lap,” and especially getting some of those single-note-per-string alternate picked arpeggios, getting them clean, took a lot of shedding for me. I wrote the piece quite quickly, and then had to practice it a lot – like a lot a lot – to be able to even really show other people how I wanted it to be played. And to this day there are still passages where if I don’t run them fairly regularly, I can definitely feel it.

So once I got it in a form that kind of seemed right, I did pre-production with it where I actually sat down with a click. I did this at the home studio of my dear friend and colleague Jude Gold. He played in an acoustic duo with me called Lapdance Armageddon, and he plays the second guitar on “Fast Crowd.” He helped me engineer it where we just got a click track, and I played all the rhythm guitar parts, and then the lead guitar parts, and then that was what I then turned and gave it to Stu Hamm who played bass on it and John Mader who played drums, so that they could kind of hear how the piece went. And I also gave them charts with the piece transcribed.

But one step that I left out is that initially when I did the pre-production, it was too long, like way too long – it was almost close to seven minutes. So there is always the kind of painful editing process of taking out sections that you feel like, “No, that’s that section!” but that needs to be done simply for concision’s sake. So once we got that under six minutes, we got it as short as I felt would still make musical sense. Some pieces are just longer than others, and that’s just the way it is.

Then I gave it to Stu and John, and then we went into the studio and recorded bass and drums together. Part of the reason that I wanted to use Stu and John is that not only do I just totally admire both of them as musicians – they are both just world-class, amazing, legendary players that I’m just beyond honored to have them be part of it – but also because John and Stu tour together. So it wasn’t just one legend meeting another legend for my album, it was a bass player and a drummer who had locked in together over the years of working together. And when you are an independent artist and you are playing with great people, but also know that you don’t necessarily have the time to rehearse a band, it’s a real luxury to know that the bass and the drums are going to be absolutely fantastic. And then all you have to do is come in and try to lock in with the rhythm section you know is a machine.

Photos by Max Crace

So we got Stu’s and John’s parts together, and then I came in and laid down guitars. And that piece was actually the first one we released from the album – we released it as a single. And I early on I recognized the benefit of doing some sort of video. Zepparella, my Zeppelin tribute band, had done a video of “When the Levee Breaks,” just really because clubs were asking for it, people were asking for it, and so we did it. And I think it really helped us in a lot of ways in terms of people being able to actually see what we were and what we were about. So once the single was done of “Valentino’s Victory Lap,” I talked to a friend who knew somebody who was a film guy. He sometimes did fun projects, and I thought, “Well, it would be good to do just something visual because nobody knows who I am,” and just to have something out there that is an extension of the art.”

“I’ve always viewed composition as selective improvisation, and improvisation as spontaneous composition.”

So I connected with this guy, his name is Eric Shamlin – just a brilliant, brilliant guy with the visual medium. He was interested, and so we sat down to do a video. I really only gave him three parameters. I said, “It would be great if somewhere in it there could be some nod to what this song is about,” which was a tribute not just to Valentino Rossi, the MotoGP rider, but sort of a spirit that he has. I don’t follow MotoGP, but every now and then – whether it’s Valentino Rossi or Secretariat or Eddie Van Halen, whoever – you see somebody who has this combination of this almost childlike joy and exuberance combining with just vicious technique at what they do. And it’s so inspiring. It’s wonderful to see somebody who is so capable still being so joyful.

And so that’s why I dedicated it to Valentino Rossi. And so it made kind of sense to me that somewhere in the video there could be a motorcycle, but I didn’t want to constrain Eric, the director. And my other two parameters, as I said, “At some point I have to be playing guitar in it – I don’t want not to be playing guitar. That’s sort of the point.” And the final one was, “I’m fine with doing stuff that’s interesting or edgy or artistic, but I don’t want to look in any way skanky or slutty [laughter] – or naked [laughter] – or anything like that. So then he let his imagination run wild, and I showed up for my video shoot and had no idea, actually, what a big production it was going to be. But it was a ton of fun, and then we released a video shortly after the single was released. So that was, I guess, the genesis from sitting down on the sofa and coming up with arpeggiated stuff in 10/8 to a video with metal wings and screws coming out of my back. [Laughter.]

It’s an enigmatic image. Fascinating, enigmatic stuff. Really unexpected as well how this story evolves from a motorcycle to this woman growing wings. Incredible.

[Laughter.] That was Eric’s conception, and part of it was that I think the “victory lap” to him evoked the idea of the Winged Victory that meets you right at the top of the stairs as you go into the Louvre in Paris. And it happens that that’s one of my favorite statutes. I’ve always loved it. I’ve always felt this wonderful magic mystery around it. And so when he in his storyboarding started wanting to use imagery of the Winged Victory, I was all for it.

Are there things on the album that you wish you’ve done differently?

That’s a great question, and I have thought about that. On one hand I would say no, but with a major follow-up to that. The only reason I would say no is because I did everything that I did with the best knowledge that I had at the time. And so any lessons I’ve learned I’m really happy to have learned. I wouldn’t want to have accidentally just got something perfect, and then in my second album do something that I should have learned on the first album. But I will say, moving to my next album – something I’m excited to do – is to actually have more time to rehearse the material with the actual people.

On Hale Souls, with the exception of “Fast Crowd” – and that’s because Jude and I had played it before, we both knew it, we performed it together – but with the exception of that, all of the other things were done without really much rehearsal as a band. So it is nice to be able to take material and actually play it with the people. Even if you are going to go into the studio and still, “Here’s the day we are going to record drums. Okay, now we’re going to do drums and bass,” or whatever. For the next one I am excited to do more stuff that has more of a live feel, and also where I’ve actually gotten to play more with the musicians whom I am recording with.

What was your main guitar for the sessions?

I have three Music Man Silhouettes – one Silhouette and two Silhouette Specials. My first Silhouette ever, my first guitar ever, was the one in the video for “Valentino’s Victory Lap.” And then I have one that looks very similar to that. It’s actually not in my videos; it’s a Silhouette Special. And then the one that I’ve been playing, my main guitar now, is the one that’s a Silhouette Special with a whammy bar. It’s white with a black pickguard; it’s all single-coil pickups. My other two have the stock DiMarzio single coils in the neck and in the middle position, and then a Fast Track 2 in the bridge position. And my primary Music Man, the white one, I kept it with all the stock single-coils. I love all three of them for different reasons. But those are my main guitars. “Valentino’s Victory Lap” has double rhythm guitar tracks. One of them I recorded on a Les Paul, but everything else is my Music Man Silhouettes.

Were there any other guitars that played a role on the record?

Yeah. Santa Cruz Guitar Company – I have a custom OM model, and that was the steel-string guitar that’s the main one on “Fast Crowd.” It’s also one of the guitars of the guitar quartet. It sort of plays what would be the cello role in “Is It Not Strange,” and then it’s in other pieces, like “Déjà Vu” in a few spots. Then I have a classical guitar. It’s a Kenny Hill “Ruck” model, and it’s this wonderful classical guitar. It has two tracks on “Is It Not Strange” for the guitar quartet. And then it’s all over “Déjà Vu” and “Fading.” Any of the nylon string parts are on that one. So not too many guitars. Really three primary guitars for the album.

But what is your all-time favorite guitar?

My Music Man Silhouettes. Those are my first guitars, and it just always feels like home. It’s kind of funny when your first guitar also happens to be a truly fantastic guitar. You know, for the longest time any time somebody would hand me their guitar to try out, I was never really that impressed. And now I can appreciate different guitars for their idiosyncrasies, but my Silhouettes are my babies.

When you are looking for a new or a used guitar? How do you test them out?

Hmm. It’s an interesting question only because all of my guitars have just kind of found me. I don’t know that I’ve ever really gone shopping for a guitar, come to think of it. [Laughter.] Actually, I hadn’t really thought about that. But my first Music Man just sort of came to me through Ernie Ball when he was still alive. He and Sterling just decided to give me a guitar when I was first starting to play, and it was just because I’ve known the family. So they gave it to me. And early on, because of that, I vowed that I would always be loyal to Music Man. And if I ever made anything out of myself, I would be at their disposal.

And, fortunately, I legitimately love the guitar so much that any of the other guitars I’ve got sort of… Okay, no, no, no. I do remember one – my Gibson SG, which I got when I was playing in an AC/DC tribute band. It took me a long time to find an SG that I liked. And I ended up playing a bunch of SGs all over. Everywhere we would even go on tour, I’d be trying to find SGs that I liked. And none of them felt quite right. I’d find whatever – dead frets or something like that, which, of course, you can fix and everything. But when you are just pulling something off a wall, you kind of want it to work. And since I don’t really work on my guitars very much – I mean, I can do really basic stuff – but you don’t want to just go and buy guitar that you know has problems right off the bat.

So the one that I actually ended up getting was one that a friend of mine who worked at a store in Redwood City called Gelb… He called me and said, “Hey, I think I’ve got a really good one for you.” So I came in, and it was a custom shop Historic ’61 reissue, so it actually says “Les Paul.” The SG, the first year they had it, they called it still a “Les Paul,” and then they ended up needing to rename it. I think Frank Zappa said it beautifully: “If you pick up a guitar and it says, ‘Take me, I’m yours,’ that’s the guitar for you.” If I pick up a guitar and it makes me want to play it – I know that sounds kind of silly – but some guitars you feel like just work for you right away. You can’t wait to pick it up.

And, actually, one guitar that I tried out recently, a Sadowsky, it’s a nylon-string electric. Any time I pick up a guitar and it makes me play differently from how I would normally play, then it has a purpose as a creative tool. That to me is a very compelling reason to consider in a new instrument. But inasmuch I’m not much of a collector, and inasmuch that pretty much of all my other guitars have just sort of found me some way or another – meaning that it wasn’t like I was out shopping for a guitar – I think what I just look for is something that feels good. That can be a kind of nebulous way to look at things. But if you pick up a guitar and it feels good in your hands and it makes you want to play it, then that’s the guitar for you. And, of course, basic craftsmanship.

Is there any equipment that you are especially excited about these days? Not necessarily a guitar, but maybe amps or effects?

Yeah, all my guitars. I just told you about them, and I love all of them. I’ve really been loving my Engl amp – it’s an Engl Special Edition 670 with EL 34s. It’s an absolutely monstrous amp. I think it may literally weigh about as much as I do, which is always fun when you’re loading gear, but it sounds so good that I keep lugging it around. It’s got four channels, and all four of the channels sound really good. I tend mostly to use the first three because the fourth channel is for super, super heavy gain that is more than I actually use. But what I love about that amp is that it has this wonderful articulation to it. It really tracks well. So when you are playing, say, faster passages, you still get the clarity of notes, even at high gain settings. So it almost has the level of articulation as if you are playing through a clean amp, but you still get the distortion of an overdriven amp. Plus the clean channel sounds beautiful, and it’s really straightforward to operate. You don’t have to have a degree in electrical engineering to figure out how to make it sound good. It tends just to sound good.

So I love my Engl amp. And then only recently have I gotten much into pedals – I think that’s typical of people who start out with classical guitar. You know, you don’t really think that much about effects. And recently I’ve been getting pedals from this wonderful company called Providence, and they make this wonderful delay. The first thing I got from them was the Chrono Delay. It has a very accurate tap tempo function. I can’t imagine using a delay that doesn’t have a tap tempo. But it also has a knob where you can set the types of repeats. So you can have the repeats be quarter notes or dotted quarter notes or eighth notes or dotted eighth notes or eighth notes triplets. It’s just very easy to use and it sounds great. Then they also have the Anadime Chorus – it’s just beautiful sounding – plus a number of overdrive pedals. But in general I still like guitars to sound like guitars for the most part. I don’t really have the patience or the desire to spend a huge amount of time investing in effects. I’d rather spend my time working on writing or playing. But I definitely like effects for some of the nuance that they can bring to the sound. But I’m no Adrian Belew.

Tell us a bit about your background. While you were growing up, your father was the editor of Guitar Player magazine. Did he have any influence on your decision to become a professional musician?

You know, it’s so funny. Everybody assumes – totally understandably – that I got into guitar through my dad or because of my dad. Oddly enough – although, of course, my dad has been completely supportive since day one – he always said that it was his goal when he became a parent to help my sister and I figure out what it was we wanted in life, and then help us to get the skills to get whatever that was. He didn’t really have a preconceived notion of anything that we should or shouldn’t do. Same with my mom. And some of my earliest musical experiences, some of the things that I know really got me very turned on to music was that my mom used to take me and my sister to the ballet and the opera and to the musicals – gosh, like almost every week during the summer at least when we were kids. So we had a lot of musical exposure early on.

And it wasn’t until, I guess, elementary school where we really started playing instruments. We had a piano at the house and had the requisite piano lessons. And then pretty much any instrument that struck our fancy for any amount of time, my parents would just rent from the local music store. So maybe one month I was like, “I wanna play trumpet!” or whatever. They would let me kind of bang around on instruments. And then it was around mid high school that I really got fascinated with guitar. And I remember hearing this song on the radio that was just transcendentally beautiful. It was like the coolest thing I remember ever hearing, and asking my dad, “Who is that?” And he kind of thought about it for a second, and he was like, “God, it really sounds like Eric Johnson.” He was like, “But Eric Johnson doesn’t get radio play, he’s too….” And he meant that almost as a compliment. Sometimes really great artistic stuff doesn’t necessarily get recognized by mainstream media. So, of course, the radio station didn’t announce who it was, and it was just this fleeting moment of this beautiful piece of music, and I had no idea who it was.

Well, then a few weeks later Joe Satriani was playing a show, and my dad and Jas Obrecht went to the show and brought me with them. And Eric Johnson opened. Out comes “Cliffs of Dover,” and I’m like, “This is it! This is the piece! Oh my God!” And I remember watching him play and hearing this piece, it is – as you know – just so joyful, so transcendentally beautiful, that I had a moment of thinking like, “My God, he must be the happiest person in the world if he wrote something like that.” And then I thought, “Oh, wait a minute. Maybe he is the happiest person in the world because he can play guitar like that.” And so I had a thought of like, “God, I should just play guitar. Like, I wonder if playing guitar is the secret to the kind of joy that a song like that shows.”

And so initially I picked up the guitar a few times in high school, and, of course, my dad thought it was delightful. But there was certainly never pressure on me. I think I’ve had like a lesson or two in high school, and then in high school you get easily bogged down with SATs and planning for college. So it wasn’t until college that I actually started playing with any degree of regularity. And at that point my dad thought it was totally great, and he was always really honest with me about the difficulty of the business. He thought from an artistic standpoint it was fantastic, and always kind of made me aware of it that it’s not necessarily something you just get into and expect that you are just going to sell tons of records and make lots of money. He never discouraged it and certainly gave me plenty of encouragement and pointed me in some good directions early on. You know, like, “Okay, if you like Eric Johnson, then we’re gonna get you Jeff Beck’s Blow by Blow. If you like Joe Satriani and Steve Vai, you’re gonna go see Steve Morse with me tonight.” So definitely I got some great records to listen to early on.

Did your father encourage you to have a back-up plan?

I think both of my parents wanted me to have something that I would be able to live doing. I don’t ever remember them actually sitting me down and saying, “You have to have a backup plan.” But I think part of it was that my love of music really became so strong while I was already in college, and I was doing well in school and everything, so I don’t really think either of my parents were ever worried that I wouldn’t make decent decisions. My mom was the one who was a little bit more encouraging of having a backup plan just because I think she just didn’t want to see me get my heart broken. And I think it’s actually a good idea. I intentionally wanted to have other things that I could do or was able to do because I’ve never expected music to make me any money. If it does, fantastic. But it’s my passion. What more do I need to ask of it?

You initially started with classical guitar, is that right?

Yeah, that’s correct.

Did you have any clear musical goal or a musical ambition when you were just starting out?

I think, actually, quite early on. It happened all at once, really. I knew very early on that that’s what I wanted to do. So maybe it was at an Eric Johnson show that I fell in love with the guitar, but I remember very distinctly watching the Dixie Dregs a couple of years later, and it was just this wonderful show. I remember watching them and then it hit me all of a sudden, like, “Wait a minute, this is all of their jobs!” Like, “That’s their work! That’s their job.” And thinking how unbelievably cool that was. And my whole life my mom always thought I was gonna be a lawyer, which I don’t really know if that’s a compliment. [Laughter.] But I had never really figured out what I wanted to do. I mean, not that you really need to know what you’re gonna do with your life when you’re 18 or 19 years old, but I really didn’t know what I wanted to do.

And at that moment I remember thinking, “Oh, this is what I want to do!” And so, really early on when I started playing classical guitar, I had it in my mind that I wanted to be a guitar player. And yet I was kind of concerned that I was starting late. So many people, when you read about your heroes and everybody starts when they are ten or younger, you just think, “Oh my gosh, I’m 19. I’ll never get to where I wanna be.” And that’s where I have to thank my first guitar teacher, Phillip de Fremery, my classical guitar teacher. He taught me from day one like I was going to be a professional. And he told me from day one that I was absolutely not starting too late.

What do you think rock guitar players can learn from studying classical music?

That is a great question. I think some of the things that I most appreciate… well, from a technical standpoint, finger independence and a different type of dexterity. If you study a Bach piece, you realize that the guitar doesn’t just have to play chords or melody, that you really can play two melodies at once. That’s what counterpoint is. So the knowledge that something is possible – not just possible, but it is inherent in certainly most baroque and other music that is a part of the classical guitar repertoire. So just developing an ear for some of what the instrument’s possibilities are is great, along with the technical aspect of finger independence and that the pinky is not the parenthetical-like extra finger, but actually one that you use as much as you use everybody else.

And also I would say the exposure to the types of music in the repertoire. I think for me it all comes back to the music and the composition. If you are not playing something that’s worth listening to, it doesn’t matter how impressive it is – at least to me. So I can be blown away and very much impressed by somebody’s technique, but it doesn’t mean that I want to listen to the album. It doesn’t mean that the music moves me, even if the technique impresses me. And so I would say that from being exposed to some of the compositions in classical music, that naturally enhances your compositional vocabulary and an ability to get your mind around things like counterpoint or harmonies, different types of harmonic progressions that can add different emotional ramifications.

It’s very easy for guitar players to get boxed into certain types of chord shapes. You listen to rock music a lot where a piano is inherent in the music, and so many times it leads to these really interesting harmonic progressions just because of the way that the piano tends to be laid out. Not that these things are totally possible on guitar, but the guitar doesn’t lend itself to voice leading the way the piano does. So yeah, classical guitar is a wonderful foundation, especially because I love the music so much. I still do.

Yngwie Malmsteen has said that the classical element in his music was “imbedded in his brain and soul” – that’s how he put it. Do you feel the same way?

Let me put it this way: I don’t feel like I’ve ever written anything specifically to try to emulate anything. Like I never sat down and said, “I’m gonna write something in this style,” or, “I’m going to try to write something that sounds classical, or something that sounds baroque.” So I would guess if it’s part of what you’ve been exposed to, it’s part of your vocabulary. So I would tend to agree.

Classical musicians are known for being able to read and interpret anything, but they seldom improvise. How did you teach yourself to improvise?

It’s a very good point and it’s a wonderful challenge because you are absolutely right – improvisation isn’t something that is really part of what you learn learning Bach pieces. And also having played early on in tribute bands where consistency is venerated over spontaneity, you play the solos like they sound on the album. At least that’s generally what the goal is when you are playing somebody else’s music. For me that’s been an on-going thing and, actually, something over the last year that I’ve decided really to explore more of.

So in terms of learning to improvise, I’m still learning, very much still learning. And I try different things. Sometimes I’ll just – you know, in a quiet place where I know nobody is going to listen to me – just totally freeplay, just trying anything, playing anything. Which could be a lot of fun. Other times I’m just learning new scales, new arpeggios, new ways of looking at the neck, and playing those over chord progressions. But it’s interesting because learning to improvise – at least as far as I can see – is a totally different approach from, say, what you take on classical guitar.

On classical guitar you might feel like, “Okay, these four measures are problematic, so for the next two hours I am going to work on these four measures over, and over, and over again.” Whereas with improvisation, the whole point of it is not to be playing the same things over and over again, but to be approaching things differently. So the process for me is a lot more nebulous. It definitely has involved listening to other people. It can be very helpful to record yourself and start to hear times where you know that you are actually tapping into something, and times where you felt like your fingers are just kind of moving. So for me the goal definitely has been to try to make music feel more fluent – in a spontaneous context.

Tell us about Zepparella, the Led Zeppelin tribute band you play in. How did you get involved in this project?

The drummer, Clementine, she was the one who started the band. And I met her in my first real band. The first real band I played in was the band called AC/DShe, and it’s an AC/DC tribute band. And it was when I was just out of college, having played classical guitar for about three years. And I knew I wanted to play rock music. And so I came up in my mind with this list of what I wanted. And I thought, “Okay, I want to play rock music, I want to play lead guitar, and I want to do something where I have to have some degree of stage presence.” Because I don’t want to be somebody who is naturally going to be staring at my shoes during a show. That’s no fun to watch. And so when this opportunity came up to put on a schoolboy outfit and duckwalk around the stage playing AC/DC, I thought, “Okay, that definitely fits the bill. That would be great education for me.”

So it was great education for me, but then what end up happening was we got some great opportunities that at least Clementine, the drummer, and I really wanted to do. We were offered a tour opening for Reverend Horton Heat, for like two or three weeks. And Clementine and I were just so thrilled and really wanted to go, but the other girls in the band had… For a variety of reasons, it just didn’t happen. And I remember Clementine and I driving to a gig and she was so frustrated, and she just said, “God, I just… I’ll just start looking for a Led Zeppelin tribute band or something where I can learn John Bonham stuff and have the accountability of playing it live, and then we could have done this tour, or at least we could have offered this as a plan B for this tour.”

And I thought, “Well, count me in if you need a guitar player, because I’ve always loved AC/DC, but Led Zeppelin was almost even more near and dear to me.” And I recognized the opportunity to learn techniques that I wouldn’t have learned in AC/DC – like playing slide guitar or beating the crap out of a Les Paul with a violin bow – that I just wasn’t gonna get necessarily playing AC/DC. So she went ahead with it. Next thing I knew, she sent me a set list and said we had our first gig booked. So I just spent hours for the next few weeks learning the Zeppelin material the best I could, and then we started playing shows. And it’s been tremendously educational.

What goes through your mind when you are on stage performing this grandiose, flamboyant music?

[Laughter.] You know, I often think that my inner 15-year-old would be so gratified. Like, if I can go back in time, and tell my 15-year-old self that this is what I was gonna be doing later on, I think I would have approved. So there is something really fun about living up certain adolescent fantasies, something that you like to be doing. [Laughter.] And there is also something really wonderful about getting to play some of the first music that made you set out on the trajectory you are currently on. Because even though it was, say, maybe “Cliffs of Dover” and Eric Johnson that made me say, “Hey, I have to pick up a guitar,” probably what made me go to the Eric Johnson and Joe Satriani show to begin with was that I’d started listening to Led Zeppelin and AC/DC, and got into this really guitar-oriented music. And that was right around the time that that wasn’t what was going on on the radio at all. I mean, that was the music of my parents’ generation. So in a lot of ways Led Zeppelin was kind of a doorway into the kind of music that’s still influencing me on a longer path.

Gretchen Menn performing with Zepparella. (Photo by Mark Manion)

Does playing Jimmy Page’s parts onstage involve changing into a different persona – artistically or psychologically?

We actually decided deliberately when we were going to do this band – both Clementine and I have such a very genuine connection with the music. And tribute bands are something that’s very easy for people to have a lot of mixed feelings about. And on one hand you don’t want to be capitalizing on your heroes – that’s not the point. For us the point was to kind of honor the music and to use it as education. And it’s one thing to do AC/DC. Their band is so inherently tongue-in-cheek, and they clearly have good senses of humour about themselves. And so there is something that doesn’t feel strange about getting into an Angus outfit because Angus is wearing an outfit himself.

On the other hand, to step into the shoes of musicians in a band that in the realm of rock are almost holy. They have a mystique around them, and the last thing we ever wanted was to turn it into something that felt cheesy. And then, of course, I’m sure plenty of people will argue that tribute bands are inherently that, but we all make our own decisions around what speaks to us musically. And so for us it was more of just, “We connect with this music, let’s not…” You know, “I’m not gonna move like Jimmy, I’m not gonna dress like Jimmy, I’m not gonna imitate Jimmy. What I’m gonna do is I’m gonna learn the solos, and I’m gonna learn the songs, and I’m gonna try to do them the best I possibly can. And anything else is going to be genuine. Like, I love the music.” So we intentionally don’t try to do anything imitative beyond just delivering the music the way that we want to hear it.

Most people are unaware of the sacrifices one has to make to become a well-known guitarist. Along the way have you encountered issues you hadn’t expected?

I make choices that I wouldn’t have thought I would have to make, and every now and then I do feel like a stick in the mud. I tend to be a lot more protective of my hands than I realized I was going to have to be. For a while I was really into rock climbing. I love rock climbing. I lived up in Tahoe and for a couple of years, and I did it quite a bit. And then you realize there is only so many things you can ask of your hands. So I ended up giving up rock climbing because I was either gonna have to make sacrifices on guitar, or sacrifice rock climbing. And guitar always comes first. So certain things like that when it comes to just the sheer physicality of making choices that always prioritize the health of your hands and other necessary implements to playing guitar.

And I think to a certain degree there is a lot of solitary time that you spend. Which for me is fine. I am plenty social, but I also like time by myself. So the idea of sitting alone for four hours to play guitar sounds great to me. But I think that would be something people wouldn’t necessarily expect right from the get-go. I think they think, “Okay, you play guitar, you practice a little bit, you get in a band, and it’s party time.” But there is quite a bit of not only just initial investment, but maintenance. So it means a lot of time alone, but I don’t mind that.

What’s involved in maintaining your level of skill? Does that involve everyday practice?

Every day, absolutely. The funny thing nowadays is I feel like I’m fighting for practice. When you’re an independent artist, the business of music can definitely interfere quite a bit with the actual creation of it. And that’s where it can get difficult. Because on one hand it is important not just for an independent artist, but kind of any artist at this point there is a level of expectation of a certain amount of reachability and also – at least in my mind – a certain level of appreciation you have. So if it means that you have to spend a certain amount of time responding to questions from people, being on Facebook or something like that, to me that’s part of being grateful that people are interested in your music. On the other hand, there definitely have been days where you realize, “Well, this was a lot more time than I thought this was gonna be, and it should have been more time on my guitar.” So there is always a fight for time.

Fortunately, I am not somebody who ever has been or ever will be… I have no desire to practice eight hours a day. For me my magic number is about four hours a day. And that’s about how long I can maintain a level of focus that actually still feels productive, and also maintain a level of life outside the guitar that I think is actually really imperative if you are trying to make music that connects with people. I think locking yourself in a cave and never seeing another person doesn’t always tend to lead to music that really is accessible. When I say “accessible” I don’t mean that as a euphemism for trying to indulge people in a way that’s artistically questionable. I mean that if the idea of music is to express something, you have to have something worth expressing. And part of that involves interacting with other humans and having a life outside the guitars. It’s not supposed to be like, “Oh, this piece of music is expressing my feelings around sweep picking.” Nobody cares about that. [Laughter.]

So I aim for – I don’t always get – I am for about four hours a day. I consider two hours a bare minimum. And then within that amount of time I try to divide it up between… well, whatever is most pressing. I can easily spend four hours a day working on writing. I could spend four hours a day working on preparing for a gig. So a lot of it depends on where my focus has to be – if it’s in preparation for a gig or a recording session, or writing new material. But my general routine involves a little bit of everything: a little bit of writing, a little bit of pure technique, a little bit of improvisation, a little bit of working on something totally new. And if I could get in four hours a day every day, I’d be very happy, but unfortunately it doesn’t always happen that way.

So what are you working on at the moment?

At the moment I’ve been actually doing quite a bit of writing. I’m working on my next album and very excited about that. So a lot of my music time has been devoted to writing. And I’m also working on some new techniques, trying to constantly push my technical abilities as well. It involves a bit of maintenance and also not just maintenance, but I don’t see myself as, “Okay, here I am, that’s all I need to know.” I feel like I’m a musical infant and a constant student of the instrument, so I always like to learn new things.

When do you see the new album coming out?

The goal is next year, 2013. Quite a bit of it is written, and it seems the more I write, the quicker things come together. So the goal is to have in out in 2013.

Is it following the direction that was set out on your debut album or are you taking a detour?

I think there is definitely going to be a real evolution. I don’t think it’s necessarily going to be anything that will shock people. It’s like my next album isn’t going to be a jazz album, and it’s not going to be a new age album. It’s certainly still within the realm of the aesthetic that I’ve put forth in my first album. But there’s going to be a focus, and I think I’ve grown a lot in the last year, particularly in my writing. So I’m very excited about it. It will still have elements of things that are in Hale Souls, but it’s gonna be even more focused and more unified.

I have my last question here, and it may sound a bit goofy. But here it goes, “If you could be given an answer to any question in the universe, what would you ask?”

[Laughter.] There are only so many questions you really could ask, right? And in thinking about that, I don’t know that I would want to know… I think there is a lot of knowledge that you could have where it would be kind of a mixed blessing, if a blessing at all. I wouldn’t want to necessarily know anything that would alienate me or isolate me from the experience that everybody else is having. So on one hand a very obvious question would be, “What’s the meaning of life,” or, “What’s the meaning of the universe.” I don’t know that having that knowledge would do anything other than… What is it, we would all become like Cassandra? I don’t know that I want knowledge that would be isolating. What I would love to know would be, “What would it be that I wouldn’t otherwise find or seek out on my own that would be maybe most important for my happiness, or my enlightenment, or my enrichment?”

That’s a profound answer.

[Laughter.] That’s a difficult question!

Gretchen Menn with trio band members Thomas Perry and Angeline Saris. (Photo by Diana Cordero)

It is a goofy question, fundamentally. [Laughter.] Is there anything else we haven’t touched upon that you would like to cover or to mention?

No, not necessarily. I guess I should mention that my solo project – my trio that’s currently playing – has two musicians in it with whom I am very happy to be working. One of them is Angeline Saris – she was the guest artist on “Scrap Metal.” But she’s become my full-time live bass player, and she’s just wonderful, I love working with her. And she’s up for anything. She’s very adventurous and a lot of fun, and just an amazing bass player. And then my drummer, Thomas Perry – he not only plays drums, but also bass and guitar and everything else. So the two of them together are just a great combination, and I’m very excited to have both of them on my upcoming album. So they will be my background.

Did you get a chance to play any shows together?

We did, yes. We have played a few, and more and more are coming up. There’s always this a kind of rotating focus that you have to have with writing. Right now that I’m getting really going on the writing for the next album, and it’s easy to correct some of the material from the previous album. For me, at least, the stuff that I write is high maintenance enough that I can’t just leave it for two months and then come back and play “Oleo Strut” perfectly. I’d have to review it to keep everything under my fingers. So we are playing shows, but I’m hoping within the next couple of months we can get to work on getting into the studio and start pre-production for the next record.

Are there any plans to play outside of the United States?

Absolutely, I’d love to get out, as soon as we can make it work. We’d just really love to get over to the UK and Europe.

That would be exciting.

So exciting. I’ll do it the second we can work it out.

It’s one guy, Ritchie Fliegler. Pure Guitar is lucky to have him onboard as a contributor, because Ritchie is a funny, literate raconteur with a deep knowledge of rock and roll, a passion for the good stuff (if you’re not listening to the Beatles in mono, on vinyl, you’re just not getting it), and an unfailingly honest approach to complicated music-business issues, whether cultural, legal, historical, or commercial.

With the possible exception of the guys on Top Gear UK, Ritchie and I think we have pretty much the best jobs in the world. His wit, deep knowledge and high-octane enthusiasm will benefit Pure Guitar’s staff and readers alike, and the father/son product review column he will be writing with his 22-year-old son Jack (a fine guitarist as well) is just the beginning. Welcome!

 – Tom Wheeler

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Need an incentive to visit Pure Guitar more often? Try our new Pure Guitar Daily section. Here you’ll find a steady stream of newsworthy events, excellent videos, gear coverage, career updates, and lots more. Recent Dailys have covered fabulous players such as King Paris (aka Rick Vito), Eddie Van Halen, Jess Lewis, and Orianthi; stellar new guitars from Taylor, Gretsch, EVH, Freddy Gebrsek, and Fender; and some intriguing apps and effects. We’ll be putting up new posts every day or two, so come again, y’all.

As Tom Wheeler writes, we’re mighty pleased to have Ritchie and Jack Fliegler onboard. We’d also like to extend a warm welcome to Stefan Grossman, Peter Hodgson, and Rory Gordon. A legendary figure in acoustic blues circles, Stefan Grossman is a world-class player with many albums to his credit. Having learned guitar first-hand from Rev. Gary Davis, Mississippi John Hurt, Son House, Skip James, and Fred McDowell, he’s an also insightful teacher, as you’ll see in his video lesson this month. Stefan’s Vestapol Videos  provided the Elizabeth Cotton footage seen in “Blues Origins: Spanish Fandango and Sebastopol.”

Based in Australia, Peter Hodgson is the author of one of the world’s hippest guitar blogs, I Heart Guitar at http://iheartguitarblog.com/. His writing can also be seen in Mixdown Magazine (where he pens Australia’s longest-running guitar instructional column, “Unleash Your Inner Rock God”), Gearphoria, Australian Guitar, Australian Musician Magazine, The Brag, and Beat Magazine’s weekly rock/metal column. Peter has been writing Pure Guitar Dailys for us, and upcoming issues will feature his full-length articles and interviews.

Rory Gordon joins us as Pure Guitar magazine’s Advertising Director. Rory has held positions as Advertising and Sponsorships Manager for In Tune Partners, Ad Director for the Guitar Edge and GuitarInstructor.com at the Hal Leonard Corporation, and National Advertising Manager for Guitar One and Guitar for the Practicing Musician at Cherry Lane Music Publishing. He’s also a longtime guitarist and instructor, and we’re glad to have him.

– Jas Obrecht

And yet there is a broader heritage as well, one that exceeds the boundaries of musical hardware altogether. Though his products may have benefited fewer people than did telephones or alarm clocks, Leo Fender deserves a place in the annals of the 20th century’s great industrial designers, alongside figures such as Raymond Loewy, Henry Dreyfuss, and Charles Eames. Beyond their commercial success, their innovations changed how people live, interact, and see themselves and their place in the world.

Acknowledged as the father of streamlining, Raymond Loewy designed everything from logos for Shell, Lucky Strike, and Exxon to Frigidaire refrigerators, Air Force One’s exterior graphics, even spacecraft. A few of his landmark designs or redesigns include the iconic Coke bottle of the mid-1950s, several ahead-of-their-time Studebakers, and the modern versions of the Greyhound bus and the steam locomotive.

The famously practical Henry Dreyfuss designed the spherical, take-me-to-your-leaderish Hoover Constellation vacuum cleaner (which floated on a cushion of its own exhaust), classic Westclox alarm clocks, John Deere tractors, Thermos bottles, washing machines, Eversharp’s Skyliner fountain pen, the circular wall thermostat, a model city for the historic 1939 World’s Fair, and one of the most widely used appliances of all time, Bell’s Model 300 rotary telephone in basic black.

Charles Eames is best known for the Eames Lounge Chair, perhaps the foremost example of 20th Century modernist furniture. He and his wife Ray also pioneered designs and techniques for producing other types of furniture, as well as pre-fab houses and various products made with new techniques of wood molding.

Raymond Loewy described streamlining as “beauty through function and simplification.” Henry Dreyfuss was chiefly concerned with practicality and what came to be called ergonomics. For Charles and Ray Eames, the essential condition for design was recognizing the need, and fulfilling that need through the latest in materials, components, and construction techniques. All of these concepts will sound familiar to anyone even remotely aware of the philosophy of Leo Fender.

Fender Follows Function

The design maxim most often associated with Mr. Fender is “form follows function.” It was coined by American architect Louis Sullivan at the tail end of the 19th century and adopted and refined by many of his successors, most notably Frank Lloyd Wright. In Wright’s view, form and function are inseparable: function is form. Simply put, a product’s design should derive from the manner in which it serves its purpose rather than considerations of mere ornamentation. Design a product that works better, and let its beauty flow from that.

It’s hard to imagine a purer expression of that philosophy than Bill Carson’s recollection of Mr. Fender’s approach to design: “Leo used to say, if we’ve only got a hundred dollars to develop this item, it’s got to be reliable, and it’s a life or death matter for the musician for that thing to perform every time. We will spend as much of that hundred dollars as necessary to get that. If we’ve got four or five dollars left over, we’ll work on the cosmetics.” [See Ritchie Fliegler’s Leo Fender and the Whole One Hundred.] As Mr. Fender told me: “Your best product, I think, always is first to work to the utility, and then try to make the utility have a pleasant appearance.”

“His rare ability to rethink and solve musicians’ problems shaped the sound of 20^th-century music more than any single inventor.”
— Richard Smith, Fender: The Sound Heard ’Round The World

Of course, Leo Fender never intended to create one-off art objects. Like Loewy, Dreyfuss, and the Eameses, he designed practical items for everyday use. Custom amp designer Blackie Pagano recalled, “Leo wasn’t trying to make these exalted icons of fetishistic obsession. You can tell everything about his philosophy just by looking at his amplifiers, because their form follows their function. This is part of the genius of Leo Fender, and why these designs have an enduring quality.”

West Coast Cool

The influence of musicians’ feedback on Mr. Fender’s designs is a tale often told. Harder to pinpoint is the influence of the environment and events outside the Fullerton shop. But consider: Few developments in human history were as exciting or as technology-dependent as manned flight, and the aviation industry was headquartered in Leo Fender’s backyard. A decade before he patented his first products, more than two dozen aviation manufacturers were already established in Southern California, home to 3,000 licensed pilots and site of a third of all airplane traffic in America.

The intertwined aerospace and defense industries would keep Southern California on the cutting edge of technology. Over the years, plenty of Fender designers worked in aviation, automobiles, or aerospace as well as amps and guitars, from Leo’s first partner, Doc Kauffman (Douglas Aircraft) and plant manager Forrest White (Goodyear Aircraft) to the technicians and execs from the auto and aerospace industries who joined Fender after its acquisition by CBS.

Southern California was also the center of a building boom in housing and an accompanying revolution in architecture. Although Mr. Fender may not have taken the inspiration for his amp cabinets directly from the squares and rectangles of suburban houses in the Western Ranch, American Ranch, and California Rambler styles, there’s no question that those homes and Fender’s amps were born of the same philosophy of putting function ahead of decoration.

Christopher Hawthorne is the architecture critic for the Los Angeles Times. In language that could have been referring to narrow panel tweeds, he wrote, “But the residential designs [of Los Angeles] that have stood the test of time have not been those meant to impress the neighbors …. They have been nearer the opposite: ones featuring an honest and straightforward approach, a clarity about budget and materials, and an assertion of the Modernist ideal that great design shouldn’t be reserved for the wealthy.”

The postwar spirit of innovation wasn’t confined to governments, corporations, or entire industries. It flourished in garages, workshops, and tool sheds, too. The year the Fender Electric Instrument Company was established, 1946, also saw the founding of the So-Cal Speed Shop in Burbank; it’s no surprise that Southern California gave birth to both the custom car and hot rod phenomena. Guitar makers and hot rodders have shared a great deal ever since, crafting precision-tuned machines with chrome parts on custom-colored bodies and emphasizing speed, performance, flash, sex appeal, and noisy fun.

Up the coast from Fender was America’s original dream factory, Hollywood, making Southern California the center not only of the new industries and the new architecture but the new glamour as well. Southern California’s vibrant postwar economy, its opportunities for self-reinvention, its magnetic pull on dreamers and mavericks, its spirit of can-do innovation, its tropical climate (which fostered any number of fun-centered trends – convertibles, surfing, backyard barbecues, suburban swimming pools), its new approach to everyday activities (drive-in restaurants, malt shops), and its ebullient, let’s-go-to-the-moon confidence in technology all went hand in hand to stir up a heady atmosphere of new possibilities. Across the American cultural landscape, it was often heard: If it’s cool, if it’s exciting, it happens first on the West Coast.

For the designers of the postwar era, the effect of the new sensibility was not a rejection of style but rather the birth of a new style, one that stripped away traditional, tacked-on embellishments and allowed function to dictate bold new forms and shapes. There was something profoundly optimistic about it all. In jettisoning the past, the new designers embraced the future.

Enter Leo Fender

It was in this environment that Leo Fender set about imagining the electric musical instruments of decades yet to come. Blackie Pagano: “Although I’ve been in audio for 30 years and have repaired hundreds of Fender amps, my primary interests are art, culture, and industrial design and how they interact. I consider Leo Fender to be one of the geniuses of the renaissance in design that occurred in America after World War II. It probably went back to the late ’40s, with bebop and abstract expressionism. Then the ’50s started an artistic shift, which ended up in the huge cultural shifts of the ’60s. All these things are a continuum.”

Despite revolutions in both music and electronics, Fender products have proved their staying power for more than half a century. When it comes to style, classic Fender amps still look as timeless and cool as one of Raymond Loewy’s sleek Studebaker coupes. Durable? A properly maintained Fender will still deliver the goods as reliably as it did during the Eisenhower administration.

And when it comes to tone, the Fender sound still dominates the market so thoroughly that even the highest-tech amplifiers of other manufacturers are routinely judged by their proximity to standards set decades ago in Fullerton. Fender’s Mike Lewis: “Whenever anybody talks about their amp, they always refer to it in Fender terms. They all have a switch that says ‘Tweed’ or a knob that says ‘Blackface.’ If it’s got a lot of headroom and a great clean sound, they’ll say it’s like a Twin. If it breaks up really sweetly, they’ll say it’s like a tweed Deluxe. Or, it’s got that great Fender-sounding reverb.”

Plugging into the Future

However impressive, the initial success and the continuing, pervasive influence of classic Fender musical tools are only part of the story. Those products had additional, transcendent qualities that provided pathways to unexplored territories, portals to the future itself. In the hands of creative musicians, these amps and guitars proved capable of sounds, techniques, and trends beyond Mr. Fender’s expectations, even beyond his imagination. Examples abound, from high-wire trem-bar acrobatics to the glorious distortion of tube amps cranked far beyond their intended volume levels to “student” amps becoming treasured recording tools for famous guitar stars.

Aside from providing gear for stages, studios and rehearsal garages worldwide, Leo Fender facilitated the groundbreaking artistry of Dick Dale, Jimi Hendrix, Jeff Beck, Stevie Ray Vaughan and many others. In striving to build the best possible instruments for the players of his time, he built instruments for our time as well.

And yet the greatest of all testimonies to Mr. Fender’s brilliance lies beyond his products’ popularity, their timelessness, and even their suitability for radical new techniques and sounds. Leo Fender stands apart from contemporaries who succeeded merely in commercial terms because his amps and guitars helped change the way musicians work with their tools; most significant of all, they helped ignite whole new styles of music.

While he couldn’t have foreseen the global music market’s staggering variety of gear, today’s multi-billion dollar industry rests on a shift in musicians’ attitudes that owes much to Leo Fender. And while he couldn’t have foreseen rock and roll, surf music, soul music, Motown, psychedelia, electric blues-rock, country-rock, funk, or other trends, it’s almost impossible to imagine modern pop music without his instruments.

New Tools + New Attitudes = New Music

How did one man’s inventive use of tubes, circuits, speakers, and features contribute to rearranging an entire musical landscape? The story goes back to the beginning, to two steel buildings on Santa Fe Avenue in Fullerton, where in 1946 Leo Fender first put his name on production guitar amplifiers. Over the next 19 years, he spoke often with electronics suppliers, remained well aware of advances in high-end audio, and incorporated some of those advances into his Deluxes and Pros and Twins. Blackie Pagano: “The history of electronic audio reproduction basically starts with radio and the earliest triodes used in simple, single-ended configurations. Later we see push/pull triodes and even push/pull transmitting triodes for audio, to achieve higher power levels and more headroom. [Note: “Headroom” refers to the amount of signal an amp can handle before clipping or distortion occurs – how loud it can go and remain clean.] Push/pull topologies existed long before pentodes were developed, but many of the earliest guitar amps were single-ended pentodes – the classic Champ setup. Push/pull pentodes were seen concurrently in higher powered, more expensive models.

1968 Fender Bassman. (Photo by Rob Hull)

“As a radio repairman, Leo probably fixed a lot of early triode circuits, but his guitar amp manufacture joined the party while the earliest pentodes were current – metal-bodied 6V6s and 6L6s. As successive versions of the pentodes were developed, he utilized them: 6L6Gs, 6L6GBs, 6L6GCs, et cetera. Each new version generally incorporated a significant increase in specs. More headroom became available to the designer and, more significantly, to the musician.” (Note: The 6L6 is also described as a beam power tetrode.)

As Fender amps increased in available power and versatility, those attributes became industry-wide standards and selling points. These new technologies and products found their way into the hands of inventive musicians, with several results. Bands got louder. Distortion was added to the guitarist’s sonic palette. Musicians sought to use these new tools in new ways. Ultimately, entire new forms of music emerged.

Blackie Pagano: “At the point where the tools changed, there was also a change in attitude. The people who adopted the new tools were thinking about their art a little differently than the people who were using the old tools. It was a huge break from tradition, and that blows open doors. You know, art changes culture; art is the cutting edge of culture. Today’s high art is tomorrow’s mainstream. Leo Fender managed to create new attitudes among musicians. It was true with his guitars, and also true with the amplifiers, absolutely.

“Rock and roll as we know it could not exist without Leo Fender.”
— The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

“One example: The type of distortion people wanted to hear started to shift. It’s an electronic fact that push/pull circuits cancel second harmonic distortion. Instead, odd-order distortion predominates – third, fifth, seventh, ninth – especially when you push them into clipping. And yet classic Fenders are by no means high-gain amplifiers. I’m talking about the type of distortion, not the quantity. I believe this contributed to a shift in taste. It seems now that people are always reaching for more distortion. Look at Marshall’s evolution, from basically no distortion to insane levels of distortion. Music has become much noisier in general, and part of that cultural shift – punk and metal, for example – has to do with our becoming accustomed to those odd-order distortions, which in turn resulted from evolving circuit topology. We saw this beginning a little bit in the late tweed and then in the brown and especially the blackface eras.

“So the music is getting both louder and noisier because the evolution of amplifier technology permits it. I think those things are partially responsible for predicating a shift in music. I’m certain of it. Listen to the Sex Pistols’ first album. When it came out, I listened to it every day, several times a day. And that thing sounded like such a snarling mess, so great. And now it kind of sounds tame. Why is that? It’s because our perspective has shifted so hugely.”

Leo Fender helped to stoke this evolution with his innovative guitars and amps. Even a special effect could influence an entire genre. As Guitar Player’s Barry Cleveland says, “Arguably, without the introduction of the [outboard] Fender Reverb, and the inclusion of spring reverb in Fender amps beginning with the Vibroverb in 1963, surf music would never have come into existence …. the wet quality of the Fender Reverb is the defining characteristic of the surf sound. Without that splash, the Ventures and Dick Dale would have been left high and dry.”

New Interactions with Our Gear

Aside from triggering shifts in taste and styles, Fender’s innovations also helped transform how musicians interact with their gear. Although we take for granted onboard effects and multiple tone controls, such features were unheard-of in the early days of amplified guitar. Leo Fender didn’t invent tremolo, reverb or tone filters, but by putting tremolo and reverb in the world’s most influential line of amplifiers, and by offering circuits with knobs for bass and midrange and treble, he accomplished much more than providing useful new sounds.

He encouraged, first, the very idea of the versatile amplifier and second, the concept that an amp’s performance would be determined by its user, not just its designer. In the years BL (Before Leo), you pretty much took what you could get, made the best of it, and delivered whatever sound your guitar produced through that amp. But with Fenders, players became sculptors of their own sounds.

After all, if you hand a guitar player a piece of gear with knobs on it, he’s going to twiddle them and see what happens. Guitarists’ endless fascination with diverse sounds was sparked in part by Mr. Fender’s simple yet flexible tone controls, presence knobs, Bright switches, inputs of different resistances, dual channels, and highly adjustable tremolo and reverb. Such features not only permitted sonic experimentation – they made it inevitable.

Blackie Pagano: “It’s important to note that Leo Fender’s designs reflected a cultural shift, but they also helped to cause that cultural shift. And this is why he is one of the great designers of the 20th Century. He rethought everything very creatively and came up with really good solutions, but the most important thing was not any single guitar or amplifier, or any detail about them. By developing these amps, he partially invented the sound of rock. Leo Fender wasn’t a guy who just built guitars and amplifiers. He changed cultures.”

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The Rolling Stones thought they were copying Muddy Waters and Elmore James. Eric Clapton thought he was copying Freddie King or whatever. Eddie Van Halen has said he was copying Eric Clapton. Well, when you hear Eddie Van Halen, do you hear someone copying Eric Clapton? Either he failed miserably in his attempt to copy, or he created original art. It doesn’t matter whether he thought he was copying Eric Clapton. The art stands.

Leonardo da Vinci was doing a job. Mozart was doing a job. They would get a commission from the Pope or a patron and they did what they were hired to do. Countless other people were doing exactly the same thing, but only Leonardo came back with The Last Supper. Only Michelangelo came back with the Sistine Ceiling.

So, yes, Leo Fender was committed to utility, but everyone else confronted the same problems, and they all had the same tubes, the same ruler, the same drafting table, the same RCA manuals. Leo Fender was the only one to come back with a tweed Twin. He saw his amps as machines that did a job, but it’s a disservice to his genius to leave it at that.

Leo’s intention was to solve problems, so on his amplifiers he put the knobs on a raked-back panel in front, and chrome protectors on the corners, and he covered it in affordable Tolex, and gave it the script logo and that piercing red light, which could have been any color of the rainbow. It was all very utilitarian, but it just looks so freakin’ cool! These were decisions that could have gone in any number of directions. If someone had asked Leo back then whether he was an artist, he surely would have said no. But it’s right in front of us. All we have to do is look. Leo may have intended to spend ninety-five dollars on the utility and five dollars on the art, but you know what? He spent the whole one hundred on the art.

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