Premier Guitar editors detail the records that got us through another challenging year. Plus, some of the most-anticipated releases of 2022.
Ted Drozdowski — Senior Editor
The Black Keys
Delta Kream
Ever feel like an album was made especially for you? The Black Keys did me that favor with their tribute to North Mississippi hill country—a style that’s greatly influenced them and me—and hard-core Delta electric blues. (I was deeply inspired by my friendship with R.L. Burnside and toured and recorded in a band under those same influences for 16 years.) Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney nailed those sounds and the songs they chose so hard, and they brought in a couple Mississippian ringers that I love, guitarist Kenny Brown and bassist Eric Deaton. If you don’t know who R.L. Burnside, Junior Kimbrough, Fred McDowell, and Ranie Burnette are, make no mistake—you are remiss. But this album will take you to their front door. All you gotta do is step through to discover some of the most joyful, soulful, and deep music ever made in America.
Must-hear tracks: All of them, but start with “Crawling Kingsnake” and “Louise.”
The Black Keys - Crawling Kingsnake [Official Music Video]
Cedric Burnside
I Be Trying
Okay, so I’ve tipped my hand with the album above, but R.L. Burnside’s grandson, who I’ve known since he started touring with his “Big Daddy” at age 14, has become the leading proponent of North Mississippi blues. He’s also become a terrific guitarist with an edgy style of fingerpicking that really underscores the North African roots of this music. Even better is his slice-of-life songwriting, which covers everything from the perils of being Black in America to the joys of love. His sweet, sad, soulful anthem of the heart, “The World Can Be So Cold,” is a gem, so rich in emotional implications—amplified by his expressive singing—it can be unbearable on a hard day. And his lessons as a drummer have come with him. “Pretty Flowers” and a horde of other songs absolutely percolate. Cedric is a living link between the past and present of this music—its deepest roots and its brightest future. No wonder he was awarded a National Heritage Fellowship by the National Endowment for the Arts this year.
Must-hear tracks: “The World Can Be So Cold” and “Keep on Pushing”
Cedric Burnside - "The World Can Be So Cold"
Valerie June
The Moon and Stars: Prescriptions for Dreamers
I love Valerie June, with her nursery-rhythm vocal phrasing, starry-eyed lyrics, and kaleidoscopic sound that nonetheless reveals the strong roots of her music in the American South. She’s a unicorn. Name another artist who sounds like her? I dare you! I also dare you to feel sad as her voice soars, as her tales of love and endurance and experience unspool. She also has a transcendentalist, folk-rooted style of guitar and banjo that’s perfect counterpoint to the modern production and the excellent, imaginative studio players who accompany her songs. Overall, the album has a sense of kindness that, while that may sound like an abstract thing, is palpable. You can listen to The Moon and Stars three ways: as flat-out, delightful entertainment, as soothing music for meditation, or as beautiful lullabies for adults. I need more of all of those.
Must-hear tracks: “Call Me a Fool” and “You and I.” (And note the Mississippi fife and drum band pattern that kicks in at 1:12.)
Valerie June - The Moon And Stars: Prescriptions For Dreamers (Full Album Visualizer)
Most-anticipated 2022 releases: Anything by the Messthetics or Tom Waits! (C’mon Tom, I’m starting to feel like the bad kid on Christmas. I beg for a new one every year and get a lump of coal!) Psyched for the upcoming Sinead O’Connor. And Carlos Santana has a Sonny Sharrock tribute album in development that I can’t wait to hear! And every year I look forward to whatever treats Henry Kaiser has up his extremely long sleeve. And that’s just scraping the surface.
Shawn Hammond — Chief Content Officer
Behemoth
In Absentia Dei
When Polish extreme-metal mainstays Behemoth broadcast this live event in December 2020, it wasn’t epic simply because the 19-song set was filmed from the apse of remote church ruins and augmented by incredible pyrotechnics, copious fog clouds, and killer lighting. It was a lifeline of sorts for metal fans the world over who were reeling from the most destabilizing and uncertain period of their lives. There were no Covid vaccines yet, there were no concerts to go to, and we were all shut up at home, bored out of our minds and scared. For those who missed the event, both the audio and Blu-ray footage were just released, and the execution is ripping, the pace unrelenting. Frontman/songwriter/creative visionary Adam “Nergal” Darski—who’s known both for his fearlessly blasphemous themes and very public fights against censorship and heavy-handed sanctions in his native country—isn’t typically a man of many words between songs, preferring to let the immersive experience speak for itself. But it’s cool that, here, amidst the black-metal gluttony, he takes the time in two or three spots to articulate a message of positivity and solidarity to headbangers around the globe. “Despite the challenges we face, and plagues we endure, we gather here tonight … in celebration … together we shall conquer all!”
Must-hear tracks: “Evoe,” “Bartzabel,” “Ora Pro Nobis Lucifer,” “O Father O Satan O Sun!”
BEHEMOTH - Evoe (In Absentia Dei)
Tessa Jeffers — Managing Editor
Sam Fender
Seventeen Going Under
These days I have a difficult time keeping track of time. In the three-year vacuum that is 2019 up to now, it’s hard to place the order of things, like a circadian dissonance.
Discovering British songwriter Sam Fender’s Seventeen Going Under, however, was a distinct musical event. When I first heard the title-track, it stopped me in my tracks. I was at attention: This wasn’t some viral video or one-hit wonder. This was a masterclass in songwriting—all of it, from the lyrical themes, intricate guitar, sexy sax solos, hard-hitting drums, dynamic energy levels … total composition. I believed the artist’s intention and had to hear more. I found myself googling the lyrics, feeling lit up about a rock album with the same happiness I felt when I found the Beastie Boys in my brother’s CD collection as a tweenager in Nebraska, later reading the entire album booklet of lyrics while riding the bus to away volleyball and basketball tournaments.
The single, “Seventeen Going Under,” was on repeat from summer, until the full album dropped in October and … I’m still listening. Fender’s nickname of “Geordie Springsteen” makes sense; he’s got the homespun grit and heartland backdrop, combined with serrated storytelling. And then there’s the Jeff Buckley influence, Fender’s tenor voice bleeding emotion and passion into the corners. But Fender’s own sound coalesced in this sophomore album. He’s arrived as a singular artist with a gift to reach people. Through tales of facing inner demons, Fender bares his soul. He vulnerably discusses self-esteem, losing friends to suicide, pained family relationships, and feeling alienated by polarizing politics, and it’s all set to epic soundscapes orchestrated by a young maestro. (“Long Way Off” has 164 tracks of audio to dissect.)
This is an album for the romantics out there, yearning for feeling amongst the banal over- and underpinnings of the day. Fender’s album hits the heart like a bull’s-eye. I’m only choosing this one album this year, because it was authentically that remarkable—on a personal level because I genuinely just loved it, but also in the big picture of what is currently happening in the world. A rocket-to-the-moon standout, what I listened to above all others. I bought it on vinyl the day it came out, even though I already had the album in preparation for our coverage in Premier Guitar. I just wanted to listen to it in my favorite way, reading the lyrics in the record’s sleeve, reveling in the secrets of the writer for the listener, waiting within.
Fender went back in time on Seventeen Going Under, documenting his youth and triumphing over old wounds. In doing so, he helped make 2021’s vacuum of time a better place.
Must-hear tracks: “Seventeen Going Under” (check out the acoustic version), “Aye,” “Paradigms”
Sam Fender - Seventeen Going Under (Official Video)
Most-anticipated 2022 release: Red Hot Chili Peppers with John Frusciante
Chris Kies — Multimedia Manager
Every Time I Die
Radical
The boys from Buffalo have been paying the bills with breakdowns since the late ’90s. Radical marks their ninth punishing album (and second with Epitaph) that continues tight-roping their pit-pulsing roots with different shades of fume. Signature brutal bangers that hang with anything they’ve done include “Dark Distance,” “Planet Shit,” and “All This and War” (featuring 68’s Josh Scogin). Vocalist Keith Buckley still pens the most sardonic, cynical, double-entendre lyrics in the genre. Low Teens’ slight experimentation advances with the sleazily sauntering “White Void,” slinky stinger “Post-Boredom,” and pensive (and almost poppy) “Thing with Feathers” (featuring Manchester Orchestra’s Andy Hull).
Must-hear tracks: “Planet Shit,” “Post-Boredom,” “White Void”
Every Time I Die - "Post-Boredom"
Turnstile
Glow On
“Genre blending” is the music critic equivalent to gearheads describing an overdrive as “transparent.” They’re both overused and lazy. But in the case of Turnstile’s third album, it’s apropos. Sleek production (Mike Elizondo) and fresh flourishes weave together provoking thoughts of Depeche Mode, Deftones’ “Digital Bath,” EDM, dreamy alt-rock contemporary Citizen, and even Nothing’s Shocking by Jane’s Addiction. It’s a sticky listen with an impeccable flow that will continue snagging fans from all walks of life. Rest easy, purists: The Baltimore heavy hitters keep their fist-in-your-face, East Coast hardcore bounce bumping. Dudes even became the first modern hardcore act to hit the late-night circuit (see below).
Must-hear tracks: “Mystery” and “Holiday”
Turnstile: MYSTERY /T.L.C. (TURNSTILE LOVE CONNECTION)
Silk Sonic
An Evening with Silk Sonic
Let’s be honest, 2021 wasn’t much brighter than 2020. We’ve needed a good time for a long time … enter Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak. The duo put the fun back in funk by incorporating classic, upbeat R&B vibes that groove and move more like ’71 than ’21. Funkadelic, Earth, Wind & Fire, the Delfonics, and Teddy Pendergrass all live within this 30-minute party platter. Even when the cheese gets thick, the playful, positive energy and buoyant rhythms take precedent. And if you needed another reason to boogie down and flash your 24-karat smile, Bootsy Collins hosts the set (and even coined the duo’s name, too).
Must-hear tracks: “Smokin Out the Window” and “Leave the Door Open”
Bruno Mars, Anderson .Paak, Silk Sonic - Smokin Out The Window [Official Music Video]
Nick Millevoi — Associate Editor
Daniel Lanois
Heavy Sun
I’ve found inspiration in this record on every listen—and I’ve listened a lot! Lanois, organist/lead vocalist Johnny Shepherd, and guitarist/vocalist Rocco DeLuca spent a couple years working together, practicing, performing, and developing the sound and songs heard on Heavy Sun and it shows. It’s a powerful and truly unique set of music that could only be made as a long-term collaboration where several strong artistic voices start to incorporate into a whole new thing. The songs are sparse, melodic, groovy, immersive, and have a focused sound that incorporates elements of so many things that I love into some kind of slow-burn, dub-infused space gospel. Or something. Whatever it is, I feel like I’ve been waiting to hear this sound for a long time, and I expect Heavy Sun to reward focused listening for years to come.
Must-hear tracks: “Dance On,” “Tumbling Stone,” “Angels Watching”
Dance On
Pino Palladino and Blake Mills
Notes With Attachments
There are so many details and textures to enjoy on this production-heavy record, it makes every listen a new journey. Of course, it’s a huge deal that this is Pino Palladino’s debut as a composer/leader, and it’s also my favorite Blake Mills record. To hear these musicians—both of whom seem capable of just about anything when they’re in the studio—experimenting together makes this such a special document. With Afrobeat-inspired grooves, instrumentation from West Africa and South America, and hip-hop and minimalist inspirations, Notes With Attachments is a sonic stew akin to Miles Davis’ On the Corner. I hope this is what the future sounds like.
Must-hear tracks: “Ekuté,” “Man from Molise”
Just Wrong
Hailu Mergia & the Walias Band
Tezeta
I’ve been a sucker for Ethiopian jazz for a long time, but this reissue might end up being my favorite album from the genre. Originally a self-released cassette back in 1975, this album received its first wide release back in June, when it quickly became the soundtrack to most of my summertime hangs—and I still keep coming back. I love the tunes and I’m a big fan of Mergia’s expressive, soulful keyboards. Tezeta was recorded in off hours when the band was gigging at the Hilton Addis Ababa. Apparently, Alice Coltrane once swung through the hotel and sat in. That’s a mind-blowing collab, and I can easily imagine her fitting into the group’s bouncy groove. But what’s most important is that the vibe of this record is totally unbeatable, and the remaining cassette hiss adds a nice aural patina that makes my imagination run wild.
Must-hear tracks: “Tezeta,” “Nefas New Zemedie”
Tezeta
Charles Saufley — Gear Editor
Can
Live in Stuttgart 1975
Want to switch up your guitar practice and get a little aerobic workout in the process? Then jam along with Can’s superhuman drummer Jaki Liebezeit and his accomplices for the entirety of the six sides of this treasure trove. Can fans will recognize snippets of song from their catalog among these Germanically, numerically titled jams. But generally, recognizable tune snippets are just seeds for drifting excursions that are simultaneously intense, amazingly focused, delirious, and positively ecstatic.
CAN • LIVE IN STUTTGART 1975
Floating Points / Pharoah Sanders / The London Symphony Orchestra
Promises
The pandemic tested my love for what you could loosely call “ambient” music in a big way—not because I needed it any less, or because my favorite pieces of more minimal, formless music had ceased to move me, but because ambient was suddenly, inescapably everywhere—just as Mr. Eno had prophesized.
One piece that broke through was Sam Shepherd (aka electronic artist Floating Points) and Pharoah Sanders’ collaboration with the London Symphony Orchestra. Spread over nine movements—each based loosely on a seven-note figure that shines like drops of dew after a winter frost—Promises is a sort of gentle push and pull between the celestial, Apollonian forces of Floating Points and the orchestra, and Sanders’ still-majestic saxophone voice, which manages to be Dionysian, earthy, and extra-celestial all at once. The sum of their efforts is an altogether grounding listening experience.
Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders & The London Symphony Orchestra - Promises [Full Album]
Jason Shadrick — Associate Editor
Oasis
Knebworth 1996
Although I lived through the Britpop era of the ’90s, it took this album—and a deep dive into Oasis’ catalog this past summer—to really understand the appeal. Also, after 2020 I was likely looking for as much live music as I could, even if it happened 25 years ago. Recorded at a massive Woodstock-like field in England, this is a document of the Gallagher brothers at their absolute peak. Big guitars, Liam’s sneering vocals, and 250,000 people singing every word. Proper gig.
Must-hear tracks: “Champagne Supernova,” “Acquiesce”
Oasis - Champagne Supernova (Live at Knebworth) [Taken from 'Oasis Knebworth 1996']
Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
Georgia Blue
After promising on Twitter to record a Georgia tribute album if Biden won the state, Isbell and his band came through with one of the best “tribute” albums in ages. A pure love letter to the Peach State, this collection of tunes by R.E.M, James Brown, Black Crowes, Indigo Girls, and others feels like a very well-rehearsed jam session with a pile of famous (and legendary) friends. Hearing Brittney Spencer on “Midnight Train to Georgia” alone is worth it. Plus, the lengthy take on the Allman’s “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” gives both Isbell and Sadler Vaden plenty of room to stretch. Let’s hope there’s a Texas volume down the road.
Must-hear tracks: “Midnight Train to Georgia,” “Honeysuckle Blue,” “Driver 8”
Midnight Train to Georgia
Béla Fleck
My Bluegrass Heart
It took 20 years, but Béla’s bluegrass trilogy is finally complete. Both Drive and Bluegrass Sessions are supremely influential recordings to fans of newgrass and acoustic music. Sadly, this also serves as a de facto tribute to Tony Rice, who passed away last December. Rice was Bela’s guy. So much so, that Bela considered not doing an album if Rice wasn’t available to play. Bela dove headfirst into the new crop of bluegrass musicians, which has become the link between them and the first wave of newgrass cats that populated the previous two albums of the trilogy. Billy Strings, Molly Tuttle, Sierra Hull, Michael Cleveland, and others all have absolute standout moments on this album. This is serious music played with big love.
Must-hear tracks: “Wheels Up,” “Charm School”
Béla Fleck - Charm School (feat. Billy Strings & Chris Thile)
Tedeschi Trucks Band
Layla Revisited (Live at LOCKN’)
No other band on earth could have given the Layla album the justice it deserves like TTB. Full stop. Add in Trey Anastasio and Doyle Bramhall II and you have pure magic—even if Trey is along for the ride a bit. The band’s connection to the Dominos is more than shared branches on the tree of blues-rock influence. Derek was named after the band (his brother was named after Duane Allman), and Susan Tedeschi was born on the exact day it came out in 1970. This is big-band blues-rock with a vintage heart, and that’s what separates TTB from most other touring outfits. Nobody is left behind and they all churn ahead with a shared focus—even if they might not know where they’ll end up.
Must-hear tracks: “Layla,” “Keep on Growing,” “Little Wing”
Tedeschi Trucks Band - Layla (Live at LOCKN' / 2019) (Official Music Video)
Most-anticipated 2022 releases: Ben Rector, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bonnie Raitt
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Keith Urban’s first instrument was a ukulele at age 4. When he started learning guitar two years later, he complained that it made his fingers hurt. Eventually, he came around. As did the world.
He’s in the Songwriters Hall of Fame. He’s won 13 Country Music Association Awards, nine CMT video awards, eight ARIA (Australian Recording Industry Association) Awards, four American Music Awards, and racked up BMI Country Awards for 25 different singles.
He’s been a judge on American Idol and The Voice. In conjunction with Yamaha, he has his own brand of affordably priced Urban guitars and amps, and he has posted beginner guitar lessons on YouTube. His 2014 Academy of Country Music Award-winning video for “Highways Don’t Care” featured Tim McGraw and Keith’s former opening act, Taylor Swift. Add his marriage to fellow Aussie, the actress Nicole Kidman, and he’s seen enough red carpet to cover a football field.
Significantly, his four Grammys were all for Country Male Vocal Performance. A constant refrain among newcomers is, “and he’s a really good guitar player,” as if by surprise or an afterthought. Especially onstage, his chops are in full force. There are country elements, to be sure, but rock, blues, and pop influences like Mark Knopfler are front and center.
Unafraid to push the envelope, 2020’s The Speed of Now Part 1 mixed drum machines, processed vocals, and a duet with Pink with his “ganjo”—an instrument constructed of a 6-string guitar neck on a banjo body—and even a didgeridoo. It, too, shot to No. 1 on the Billboard Country chart and climbed to No. 7 on the pop chart.
His new release, High, is more down-to-earth, but is not without a few wrinkles. He employs an EBow on “Messed Up As Me” and, on “Wildfire,” makes use of a sequencerreminiscent of ZZ Top’s “Legs.” Background vocals in “Straight Lines” imitate a horn section, and this time out he duets on “Go Home W U” with rising country star Lainey Wilson. The video for “Heart Like a Hometown” is full of home movies and family photos of a young Urban dwarfed by even a 3/4-size Suzuki nylon-string.
Born Keith Urbahn (his surname’s original spelling) in New Zealand, his family moved to Queensland, Australia, when he was 2. He took up guitar at 6, two years after receiving his beloved ukulele. He released his self-titled debut album in 1991 for the Australian-only market, and moved to Nashville two years later. It wasn’t until ’97 that he put out a group effort, fronting the Ranch, and another self-titled album marked his American debut as a leader, in ’99. It eventually went platinum—a pattern that’s become almost routine.
The 57-year-old’s celebrity and wealth were hard-earned and certainly a far cry from his humble beginnings. “Australia is a very working-class country, certainly when I was growing up, and I definitely come from working-class parents,” he details. “My dad loved all the American country artists, like Johnny Cash, Haggard, Waylon. He didn’t play professionally, but before he got married he played drums in a band, and my grandfather and uncles all played instruments.
One of Urban’s biggest influences as a young guitar player was Mark Knopfler, but he was also mesmerized by lesser-known session musicians such as Albert Lee, Ian Bairnson, Reggie Young, and Ray Flacke. Here, he’s playing a 1950 Broadcaster once owned by Waylon Jennings that was a gift from Nicole Kidman, his wife.
“For me, it was a mix of that and Top 40 radio, which at the time was much more diverse than it is now. You would just hear way more genres, and Australia itself had its own, what they call Aussie pub rock—very blue-collar, hard-driving music for the testosterone-fueled teenager. Grimy, sweaty, kind of raw themes.”
A memorable event happened when he was 7. “My dad got tickets for the whole family to see Johnny Cash. He even bought us little Western shirts and bolo ties. It was amazing.”
But the ukulele he was gifted a few years earlier, at the age of 4, became a constant companion. “I think to some degree it was my version of the stuffed animal, something that was mine, and I felt safe with it. My dad said I would strum it in time to all the songs on the radio, and he told my mom, ‘He’s got rhythm. I wonder what a good age is for him to learn chords.’ My mom and dad ran a little corner store, and a lady named Sue McCarthy asked if she could put an ad in the window offering guitar lessons. They said, ‘If you teach our kid for free, we’ll put your ad in the window.’”
Yet, guitar didn’t come without problems. “With the guitar, my fingers hurt like hell,” he laughs, “and I started conveniently leaving the house whenever the guitar teacher would show up. Typical kid. I don’t wanna learn, I just wanna be able to do it. It didn’t feel like any fun. My dad called me in and went, ‘What the hell? The teacher comes here for lessons. What’s the problem?’ I said I didn’t want to do it anymore. He just said, ‘Okay, then don’t do it.’ Kind of reverse psychology, right? So I just stayed with it and persevered. Once I learned a few chords, it was the same feeling when any of us learn how to be moving on a bike with two wheels and nobody holding us up. That’s what those first chords felt like in my hands.”
Keith Urban's Gear
Urban has 13 Country Music Association Awards, nine CMT video awards, eight ARIA Awards, and four Grammys to his name—the last of which are all for Best Country Male Vocal Performance.
Guitars
For touring:
- Maton Diesel Special
- Maton EBG808TE Tommy Emmanuel Signature
- 1957 Gibson Les Paul Junior, TV yellow
- 1959 Gibson ES-345 (with Varitone turned into a master volume)
- Fender 40th Anniversary Tele, “Clarence”
- Two first-generation Fender Eric Clapton Stratocasters (One is black with DiMarzio Area ’67 pickups, standard tuning. The other is pewter gray, loaded with Fralin “real ’54” pickups, tuned down a half-step.)
- John Bolin Telecaster (has a Babicz bridge with a single humbucker and a single volume control. Standard tuning.)
- PRS Paul’s Guitar (with two of their narrowfield humbuckers. Standard tuning.)
- Yamaha Keith Urban Acoustic Guitar (with EMG ACS soundhole pickups)
- Deering “ganjo”
Amps
- Mid-’60s black-panel Fender Showman (modified by Chris Miller, with oversized transformers to power 6550 tubes; 130 watts)
- 100-watt Dumble Overdrive Special (built with reverb included)
- Two Pacific Woodworks 1x12 ported cabinets (Both are loaded with EV BlackLabel Zakk Wylde signature speakers and can handle 300 watts each.)
Effects
- Two Boss SD-1W Waza Craft Super Overdrives with different settings
- Mr. Black SuperMoon Chrome
- FXengineering RAF Mirage Compressor
- Ibanez TS9 with Tamura Mod
- Boss BD-2 Blues Driver
- J. Rockett Audio .45 Caliber Overdrive
- Pro Co RAT 2
- Radial Engineering JX44 (for guitar distribution)
- Fractal Audio Axe-Fx XL+ (for acoustic guitars)
- Two Fractal Audio Axe-Fx III (one for electric guitar, one for bass)
- Bricasti Design Model 7 Stereo Reverb Processor
- RJM Effect Gizmo (for pedal loops)
(Note: All delays, reverb, chorus, etc. is done post amp. The signal is captured with microphones first then processed by Axe-Fx and other gear.)
- Shure Axient Digital Wireless Microphone System
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario NYXL (.011–.049; electric)
- D’Addario EJ16 (.012–.053; acoustics)
- D’Addario EJ16, for ganjo (.012–.053; much thicker than a typical banjo strings)
- D’Addario 1.0 mm signature picks
He vividly remembers the first song he was able to play after “corny songs like ‘Mama’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread.’” He recalls, “There was a song I loved by the Stylistics, ‘You Make Me Feel Brand New.’ My guitar teacher brought in the sheet music, so not only did I have the words, but above them were the chords. I strummed the first chord, and went, [sings E to Am] ‘My love,’ and then minor, ‘I'll never find the words, my,’ back to the original chord, ‘love.’ Even now, I get covered in chills thinking what it felt like to sing and put that chord sequence together.”
After the nylon-string Suzuki, he got his first electric at 9. “It was an Ibanez copy of a Telecaster Custom—the classic dark walnut with the mother-of-pearl pickguard. My first Fender was a Stratocaster. I wanted one so badly. I’d just discovered Mark Knopfler, and I only wanted a red Strat, because that’s what Knopfler had. And he had a red Strat because of Hank Marvin. All roads lead to Hank!”
He clarifies, “Remember a short-lived run of guitar that Fender did around 1980–’81, simply called ‘the Strat’? I got talked into buying one of those, and the thing weighed a ton. Ridiculously heavy. But I was just smitten when it arrived. ‘Sultans of Swing’ was the first thing I played on it. ‘Oh my god! I sound a bit like Mark.’”
“Messed Up As Me” has some licks reminiscent of Knopfler. “I think he influenced a huge amount of my fingerpicking and melodic choices. I devoured those records more than any other guitar player. ‘Tunnel of Love,’ ‘Love over Gold,’ ‘Telegraph Road,’ the first Dire Straits album, and Communique. I was spellbound by Mark’s touch, tone, and melodic choice every time.”
Other influences are more obscure. “There were lots of session guitar players whose solos I was loving, but had no clue who they were,” he explains. “A good example was Ian Bairnson in the Scottish band Pilot and the Alan Parsons Project. It was only in the last handful of years that I stumbled upon him and did a deep dive, and realized he played the solo on ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush, ‘Eye in the Sky’ by Alan Parsons, ‘It’s Magic’ and ‘January’ by Pilot—all these songs that spoke to me growing up. I also feel like a lot of local-band guitar players are inspirations—they certainly were to me. They didn’t have a name, the band wasn’t famous, but when you’re 12 or 13, watching Barry Clough and guys in cover bands, it’s, ‘Man, I wish I could play like that.’”
On High, Urban keeps things song-oriented, playing short and economical solos.
In terms of country guitarists, he nods, “Again, a lot of session players whose names I didn’t know, like Reggie Young. The first names I think would be Albert Lee and Ray Flacke, whose chicken pickin’ stuff on the Ricky Skaggs records became a big influence. ‘How is he doing that?’”
Flacke played a role in a humorous juxtaposition. “I camped out to see Iron Maiden,” Urban recounts. “They’d just put out Number of the Beast, and I was a big fan. I was 15, so my hormones were raging. I’d been playing country since I was 6, 7, 8 years old. But this new heavy metal thing is totally speaking to me. So I joined a heavy metal band called Fractured Mirror, just as their guitar player. At the same time, I also discovered Ricky Skaggs and Highways and Heartaches. What is this chicken pickin’ thing? One night I was in the metal band, doing a Judas Priest song or Saxon. They threw me a solo, and through my red Strat, plugged into a Marshall stack that belonged to the lead singer, I shredded this high-distortion, chicken pickin’ solo. The lead singer looked at me like, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I got fired from the band.”
Although at 15 he “floated around different kinds of music and bands,” when he was 21 he saw John Mellencamp. “He’d just put out Lonesome Jubilee. I’d been in bands covering ‘Hurts So Good,' ‘Jack & Diane,’ and all the early shit. This record had fiddle and mandolin and acoustic guitars, wall of electrics, drums—the most amazing fusion of things. I saw that concert, and this epiphany happened so profoundly. I looked at the stage and thought, ‘Whoa! I get it. You take all your influences and make your own thing. That’s what John did. I’m not gonna think about genre; I’m gonna take all the things I love and find my way.’
“Of course, getting to Nashville with that recipe wasn’t going to fly in 1993,” he laughs. “Took me another seven-plus years to really start getting some traction in that town.”
Urban’s main amp today is a Dumble Overdrive Reverb, which used to belong to John Mayer. He also owns a bass amp that Alexander Dumble built for himself.
Photo by Jim Summaria
When it comes to “crossover” in country music, one thinks of Glen Campbell, Kenny Rogers, Garth Brooks, and Dolly Parton’s more commercial singles like “Two Doors Down.” Regarding the often polarizing subject and, indeed, what constitutes country music, it’s obvious that Urban has thought a lot—and probably been asked a lot—about the syndrome. The Speed of Now Part 1 blurs so many lines, it makes Shania Twain sound like Mother Maybelle Carter. Well, almost.
“I can’t speak for any other artists, but to me, it’s always organic,” he begins. “Anybody that’s ever seen me play live would notice that I cover a huge stylistic field of music, incorporating my influences, from country, Top 40, rock, pop, soft rock, bluegrass, real country. That’s how you get songs like ‘Kiss a Girl’—maybe more ’70s influence than anything else.”
“I think [Mark Knopfler] influenced a huge amount of my fingerpicking and melodic choices. I devoured those records more than any other guitar player.”
Citing ’50s producers Chet Atkins and Owen Bradley, who moved the genre from hillbilly to the more sophisticated countrypolitan, Keith argues, “In the history of country music, this is exactly the same as it has always been. Patsy Cline doing ‘Walking After Midnight’ or ‘Crazy’; it ain’t Bob Wills. It ain’t Hank Williams. It’s a new sound, drawing on pop elements. That’s the 1950s, and it has never changed. I’ve always seen country like a lung, that expands outwards because it embraces new sounds, new artists, new fusions, to find a bigger audience. Then it feels, ‘We’ve lost our way. Holy crap, I don’t even know who we are,’ and it shrinks back down again. Because a purist in the traditional sense comes along, whether it be Ricky Skaggs or Randy Travis. The only thing that I think has changed is there’s portals now for everything, which didn’t used to exist. There isn’t one central control area that would yell at everybody, ‘You’ve got to bring it back to the center.’ I don’t know that we have that center anymore.”
Stating his position regarding the current crop of talent, he reflects, “To someone who says, ‘That’s not country music,’ I always go, “‘It’s not your country music; it’s somebody else’s country music.’ I don’t believe anybody has a right to say something’s not anything. It’s been amazing watching this generation actually say, ‘Can we get back to a bit of purity? Can we get real guitars and real storytelling?’ So you’ve seen the explosion of Zach Bryan and Tyler Childers who are way purer than the previous generation of country music.”
Seen performing here in 2003, Urban is celebrated mostly for his songwriting, but is also an excellent guitarist.
Photo by Steve Trager/Frank White Photo Agency
As for the actual recording process, he notes, “This always shocks people, but ‘Chattahoochee’ by Alan Jackson is all drum machine. I write songs on acoustic guitar and drum machine, or drum machine and banjo. Of course, you go into the studio and replace that with a drummer. But my very first official single, in 1999, was ‘It’s a Love Thing,’ and it literally opens with a drum loop and an acoustic guitar riff. Then the drummer comes in. But the loop never goes away, and you hear it crystal clear. I haven’t changed much about that approach.”
On the road, Urban utilizes different electrics “almost always because of different pickups—single-coil, humbucker, P-90. And then one that’s tuned down a half-step for a few songs in half-keys. Tele, Strat, Les Paul, a couple of others for color. I’ve got a John Bolin guitar that I love—the feel of it. It’s a Tele design with just one PAF, one volume knob, no tone control. It’s very light, beautifully balanced—every string, every fret, all the way up the neck. It doesn’t have a lot of tonal character of its own, so it lets my fingers do the coloring. You can feel the fingerprints of Billy Gibbons on this guitar. It’s very Billy.”
“I looked at the stage and thought, ‘Whoa! I get it. You take all your influences and make your own thing. I’m gonna take all the things I love and find my way.’”
Addressing his role as the collector, “or acquirer,” as he says, some pieces have quite a history. “I haven’t gone out specifically thinking, ‘I’m missing this from the collection.’ I feel really lucky to have a couple of very special guitars. I got Waylon Jennings’ guitar in an auction. It was one he had all through the ’70s, wrapped in the leather and the whole thing. In the ’80s, he gave it to Reggie Young, who owned it for 25 years or so and eventually put it up for auction. My wife wanted to give it to me for my birthday. I was trying to bid on it, and she made sure that I couldn’t get registered! When it arrived, I discovered it’s a 1950 Broadcaster—which is insane. I had no idea. I just wanted it because I’m a massive Waylon fan, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that guitar disappearing overseas under somebody’s bed, when it should be played.
“I also have a 1951 Nocaster, which used to belong to Tom Keifer in Cinderella. It’s the best Telecaster I’ve ever played, hands down. It has the loudest, most ferocious pickup, and the wood is amazing.”
YouTube
Urban plays a Gibson SG here at the 2023 CMT Music Awards. Wait until the end to see him show off his shred abilities.
Other favorites include “a first-year Strat, ’54, that I love, and a ’58 goldtop. I also own a ’58 ’burst, but prefer the goldtop; it’s just a bit more spanky and lively. I feel abundantly blessed with the guitars I’ve been able to own and play. And I think every guitar should be played, literally. There’s no guitar that’s too precious to be played.”
Speaking of precious, there are also a few Dumble amps that elicit “oohs” and “aahs.” “Around 2008, John Mayer had a few of them, and he wanted to part with this particular Overdrive Special head. When he told me the price, I said, ‘That sounds ludicrous.’ He said, ‘How much is your most expensive guitar?’ It was three times the value of the amp. He said, ‘So that’s one guitar. What amp are you plugging all these expensive guitars into?’ I was like, ‘Sold. I guess when you look at it that way.’ It’s just glorious. It actually highlighted some limitations in some guitars I never noticed before.”
“It’s just glorious. It actually highlighted some limitations in some guitars I never noticed before.”
Keith also developed a relationship with the late Alexander Dumble. “We emailed back and forth, a lot of just life stuff and the beautifully eccentric stuff he was known for. His vocabulary was as interesting as his tubes and harmonic understanding. My one regret is that he invited me out to the ranch many times, and I was never able to go. Right now, my main amp is an Overdrive Reverb that also used to belong to John when he was doing the John Mayer Trio. I got it years later. And I have an Odyssey, which was Alexander’s personal bass amp that he built for himself. I sent all the details to him, and he said, ‘Yeah, that’s my amp.’”
The gearhead in Keith doesn’t even mind minutiae like picks and strings. “I’ve never held picks with the pointy bit hitting the string. I have custom picks that D’Addario makes for me. They have little grippy ridges like on Dunlops and Hercos, but I have that section just placed in one corner. I can use a little bit of it on the string, or I can flip it over. During the pandemic, I decided to go down a couple of string gauges. I was getting comfortable on .009s, and I thought, ‘Great. I’ve lightened up my playing.’ Then the very first gig, I was bending the crap out of them. So I went to .010s, except for a couple of guitars that are .011s.”
As with his best albums, High is song-oriented; thus, solos are short and economical. “Growing up, I listened to songs where the guitar was just in support of that song,” he reasons. “If the song needs a two-bar break, and then you want to hear the next vocal section, that’s what it needs. If it sounds like it needs a longer guitar section, then that’s what it needs. There’s even a track called ‘Love Is Hard’ that doesn’t have any solo. It’s the first thing I’ve ever recorded in my life where I literally don’t play one instrument. Eren Cannata co-wrote it [with Shane McAnally and Justin Tranter], and I really loved the demo with him playing all the instruments. I loved it so much I just went with his acoustic guitar. I’m that much in service of the song.”
Originally released in the 1980s, the Victory has long been a cult favorite among guitarists for its distinctive double cutaway design and excellent upper-fret access. These new models feature flexible electronics, enhanced body contours, improved weight and balance, and an Explorer headstock shape.
A Cult Classic Made Modern
The new Victory features refined body contours, improved weight and balance, and an updated headstock shape based on the popular Gibson Explorer.
Effortless Playing
With a fast-playing SlimTaper neck profile and ebony fretboard with a compound radius, the Victory delivers low action without fret buzz everywhere on the fretboard.
Flexible Electronics
The two 80s Tribute humbucker pickups are wired to push/pull master volume and tone controls for coil splitting and inner/outer coil selection when the coils are split.
For more information, please visit gibson.com.
Gibson Victory Figured Top Electric Guitar - Iguana Burst
Released in 1983, the Roland SDE-3000 rackmount delay was a staple for pro players of the era and remains revered for its rich analog/digital hybrid sound and distinctive modulation. BOSS reimagined this retro classic in 2023 with the acclaimed SDE-3000D and SDE-3000EVH, two wide-format pedals with stereo sound, advanced features, and expanded connectivity. The SDE-3 brings the authentic SDE-3000 vibe to a streamlined BOSS compact, enhanced with innovative creative tools for every musical style. The SDE-3 delivers evocative delay sounds that drip with warmth and musicality. The efficient panel provides the primary controls of its vintage benchmark—including delay time, feedback, and independent rate and depth knobs for the modulation—plus additional knobs for expanded sonic potential.
A wide range of tones are available, from basic mono delays and ’80s-style mod/delay combos to moody textures for ambient, chill, and lo-fi music. Along with reproducing the SDE-3000's original mono sound, the SDE-3 includes a powerful Offset knob to create interesting tones with two simultaneous delays. With one simple control, the user can instantly add a second delay to the primary delay. This provides a wealth of mono and stereo colors not available with other delay pedals, including unique doubled sounds and timed dual delays with tap tempo control. The versatile SDE-3 provides output configurations to suit any stage or studio scenario.
Two stereo modes include discrete left/right delays and a panning option for ultra-wide sounds that move across the stereo field. Dry and effect-only signals can be sent to two amps for wet/dry setups, and the direct sound can be muted for studio mixing and parallel effect rigs. The SDE-3 offers numerous control options to enhance live and studio performances. Tap tempo mode is available with a press and hold of the pedal switch, while the TRS MIDI input can be used to sync the delay time with clock signals from DAWs, pedals, and drum machines. Optional external footswitches provide on-demand access to tap tempo and a hold function for on-the-fly looping. Alternately, an expression pedal can be used to control the Level, Feedback, and Time knobs for delay mix adjustment, wild pitch effects, and dramatic self-oscillation.
The new BOSS SDE-3 Dual Delay Pedal will be available for purchase at authorized U.S. BOSS retailers in October for $219.99. To learn more, visit www.boss.info.
English singer-songwriter Robyn Hitchcock is as recognizable by tone, lyrics, and his vibrantly hued clothing choices as the sound of Miles Davis’ horn.
Itchycoo Park
“I like my songs, but I don’t necessarily think I’m the best singer of them,” he effaces to me over Zoom, as it’s approaching midnight where he’s staying in London. “I just wanted to be a singer-songwriter because that’s what Bob Dylan did. And I like to create; I’m happiest when I’m producing something. But my records are blueprints, really. They just show you what the song could be, but they’re not necessarily the best performance of them. Whereas if you listen to … oh, I don’t know, the great records of ’67, they actually sound like the best performances you could get.”
He mentions that particular year not offhandedly, but because that’s the theme of the conversation: He’s just released an album, 1967: Vacations in the Past, which is a collection of covers of songs released in 1967, and one original song—the title track. Boasting his takes on Procol Harum’s “A Whiter Shade of Pale,” the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life,” Pink Floyd’s “See Emily Play,” and Small Faces’ “Itchycoo Park,” among eight other tracks, it serves as a sort of soundtrack or musical accompaniment to his new memoir, 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left.
Hitchcock, who was 14 years old and attending boarding school in England in 1967, describes how who he is today is encased in that period of his life, much like a mosquito in amber. But why share that with the world now?
In the mid ’70s, before he launched his solo career, Hitchcock was the leader of the psychedelic group the Soft Boys.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/tinnitus photography
“I’m 71; I’ve been alive quite a long time,” he shares. “If I want to leave a record of anything apart from all the songs I’ve written, now is a good time to do it. By writing about 1966 to ’67, I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
Hopefully, I say, the publication of these works won’t ring as some sort of death knell for him.
“Well, it’s a relative death knell,” he replies. “But everyone’s on the conveyor belt. We all go over the edge. And none of our legacies are permanent. Even the plastic chairs and Coke bottles and stuff like that that we’re leaving behind.... In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth. But I suppose you do probably get to an age where you want to try and explain yourself, maybe to yourself. Maybe it’s me that needs to read the book, you know?”
“I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
To counter his description of his songs above, I would say that Hitchcock’s performances on 1967: Vacations in the Past carve out their own deserved little planet in the vintage-rock Milky Way. I was excited in particular by some of his selections: the endorsement of foundational prog in the Procol Harum cover; the otherwise forgotten Traffic tune, “No Face, No Name and No Number,” off of Mr. Fantasy, the Mamas & the Papas’ nostalgic “San Francisco,” and of course, the aforementioned Floyd single. There’s also the lesser known “My White Bicycle” by Tomorrow and “I Can Hear the Grass Grow” by the Move, and the Hendrix B-side, “Burning of the Midnight Lamp.”
Through these recordings, Hitchcock pays homage to “that lovely time when people were inventing new strands of music, and they couldn’t define them,” he replies. “People didn’t really know what to call Pink Floyd. Was it jazz, or was it pop, or psychedelia, or freeform, or systems music?”
His renditions call to mind a cooking reduction, defined by Wikipedia as “the process of thickening and intensifying the flavor of a liquid mixture, such as a soup, sauce, wine, or juice, by simmering or boiling.” Hitchcock’s distinctive, classic folk-singer voice and steel-string-guided arrangements do just that to this iconic roster. There are some gentle twists and turns—Eastern-instrumental touches; subtly applied, ethereal delay and reverb, and the like—but nothing that should cloud the revived conduit to the listener’s memory of the originals.
And yet, here’s his review of his music, in general: “I hear [my songs] back and I think, ‘God, my voice is horrible! This is just … ugh! Why do I sing through my nose like that?’ And the answer is because Bob Dylan sang through his nose, you know. I was just singing through Bob Dylan’s nose, really.”
1967: Vacations in the Pastfeatures 11 covers of songs that were released in 1967, and one original song—the title track.
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“I wait for songs to come to me: They’re independent like cats, rather than like dogs who will faithfully trail you everywhere,” Hitchcock explains, sharing about his songwriting process. “All I can do is leave a plate of food out for the songs—in the form of my open mind—and hope they will appear in there, hungry for my neural pathways.”
Once he’s domesticated the wild idea, he says, “It’s important to remain as unselfconscious as possible in the [writing] process. If I start worrying about composing the next line, the embryonic song slips away from me. Often I’m left with a verse-and-a-half and an unresolved melody because my creation has lost its innocence and fled from my brain.
“[Then] there are times when creativity itself is simply not what’s called for: You just have to do some more living until the songs appear again. That’s as close as I can get to describing the process, which still, thankfully, remains mysterious to me after all this time.”
“In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth.”
In the prose of 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left, Hitchcock expresses himself similarly to how he does so distinctively in his lyrics and speech. Amidst his tales of roughing his first experiences in the infamously ruthless environs of English boarding school, he shares an abundance of insight about his parents and upbringing, as well as a self-diagnosis of having Asperger’s syndrome—whose name is now gradually becoming adapted in modern lexicon to “low-support-needs” autism spectrum disorder. When I touch on the subject, he reaffirms the observation, and elaborates, “I think I probably am also OCD, whatever that means. I’ve always been obsessed with trying to get things in the right order.”
He relates an anecdote about his school days: “So, if I got out of lunch—‘Yippee! I’ve got three hours to dress like a hippie before they put me back in my school clothes. Oh damn, I’ve put the purple pants on, but actually, I should put the red ones on. No! I put the red ones on; it’s not good—I’ll put my jeans on.’
Robyn Hitchcock's Gear
Hitchcock in 1998, after embarking on the tour behind one of his earlier acoustic albums, Moss Elixir.
Guitars
- Two Fylde Olivia acoustics equipped with Sennheiser II lavalier mics (for touring)
- Larrivée acoustic
- Fender Telecaster
- Fender Stratocaster
Strings & Picks
- Elixir .011–.052 (acoustic)
- Ernie Ball Skinny Top Heavy Bottom .010–.054 (electric)
- Dunlop 1.0 mm
“I’d just get into a real state. And then the only thing that would do would be listening to Trout Mask Replica by Captain Beefheart. There was something about Trout Mask that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa! This music is it.’”
With him having chosen to cover “See Emily Play,” a Syd Barrett composition, the conversation soon turns to the topic of the late, troubled songwriter. I comment, “It’s hard to listen to Syd’s solo records.... It’s weird that people enabled that. You can hear him losing his mind.”
“You can, but at the same time, the fact they enabled it means that these things did come out,” Robyn counters. “And he obviously had nothing else to give after that. So, at least, David Gilmour and the old Floyd guys.... It meant they gave the world those songs, which, although the performances are quite … rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“There was something about Trout Mask Replica that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa!’”
I briefly compare Barrett to singer-songwriter Daniel Johnston, and we agree there are some similarities. And then with a segue, ask, “When did you first fall in love with the guitar? Was it when you came home from boarding school and found the guitar your parents gifted you on your bed?”
Robyn pauses thoughtfully.“Ah, I think I liked the idea of the guitar probably around that time,” he shares. “I always used to draw men with guns. I’m not really macho, but I had a very kind of post-World War II upbringing where men were always carrying guns. And I thought, ‘Well, if he’s a man, he’s got to carry a gun.’ Then, around the age of 13, I swapped the gun for the guitar. And then every man I drew was carrying a guitar instead.”
Elaborating on getting his first 6-string, he says, “I had lessons from a man who had three fingers bent back from an industrial accident. He was a nice old man with whiskers, and he showed me how to get the guitar in tune and what the basic notes were. And then I got hold of a Bob Dylan songbook, and—‘Oh my gosh, I can play “Mr. Tambourine Man!”’ It was really fast—about 10 minutes between not being able to play anything, and suddenly being able to play songs by my heroes.”
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Hitchcock does me the kindness, during our atypically deep conversation—at least, for a press interview—of sharing more acute perceptions of his parents, and their own neurodivergence. Ultimately, he feels that his mother didn’t necessarily like him, but loved the idea of him—and that later in life, he came to better understand his lonely, depressive father. “My mother was protective but in an oddly cold way. People are like that,” he shares. “We just contain so many things that don’t make sense with each other: colors that you would not mix as a painter; themes you would not intermingle as a writer; characters you would not create.... We defy any sense of balance or harmony.
“Although the performances are quite rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“The idea of normality.... ‘Normal’ is tautological,” he continues. “Nothing is normal. A belief in normality is an aberration. It’s a form of insanity, I think.
“It’s just hard for us to accept ourselves because we’re brought up with the myth of normality, and the myth of what people are supposed to be like gender-wise, sex-wise, and psychologically what we’re supposed to want. And in a way, some of that’s beginning to melt, now. But that probably just causes more confusion. It’s no wonder people like me want to live in 1967.”
YouTube It
In this excerpt from the Jonathan Demme-directed concert film of Robyn Hitchcock, Storefront Hitchcock, the songwriter performs an absurdist “upbeat” song about a man who dies of cancer.