How Black Midi’s Radical Relativity Infuses 'Cavalcade,' the Band’s New Album

It's not brain surgery, but … Black Midi, from left to right, drummer Morgan Simpson, guitarist Geordie Greep, and bassist Cameron Picton, have developed a style that extracts maximum dynamics and extreme shades of light and dark from a traditional power-trio line-up.
The cluster bomb anarchy of guitarist Geordie Greep and bassist Cameron Picton balances their ultra-dynamic howl-and-purr sound.
Black Midi is a young, progressive outfit from the U.K., and their music is abrasive and outrageous. Except when it isn't.
"I hate stuff which is purposefully ugly or difficult or too obtuse or whatever you want to call it—where there's a conscious avoidance of consonance or melody," says guitarist and lead vocalist Geordie Greep. "We want to do stuff that's interesting and has loads of tension and drama, but also has the sweetness there, so the tension and the drama is much more effective. All the best music has that—where there's this crazy stuff happening, but there's also really nice stuff or conventional things going on. It's about the relativity of those two things."
"We wanted the quiet bits to be even quieter than they were on the first record," bassist Cameron Picton adds. "We wanted the loud bits to be even louder and crazier, and the nice bits to be even sweeter and softer."
So, yes, despite the hype—as well as their now-almost-legendary incendiary 2018 performance at a hostel in Iceland for KEXP—Black Midi has a sweet side. But it's sweetness with purpose that, when juxtaposed with heavier elements, brings out the tension and drama Greep is referring to. Those contrasts permeate their second album, Cavalcade, which follows their 2019 debut long-player, Schlagenheim. The new release's opening track, the fire-breathing "John L"—make sure to check out the song's perfectly choreographed accompanying video—is followed by "Marlene Dietrich," which oozes '70s velvety lounge jazz. And the King Crimson–meets–Man Man sounding "Hogwash and Balderdash" is paired with the breathy and airy "Ascending Forth." That diversity also plays out within the compositions "Slow" and "Dethroned." The upshot is, Black Midi's full-blooded music is not constant yelling. It takes you on a journey, and as you follow along it throws you for loop after loop.
But through-composed music and careful sequencing only tells part of the story, especially since Black Midi's roots are in almost endless jamming. "It just became about jamming, and we got stuck in a bit of a rut," Picton says. "We got the idea that the only way to write songs was through jamming, which was a weird thing. We said it in interviews, so it had to be true, but it wasn't really. We did it to fulfill the thing we said in interviews. Two of the new album's tracks are from a year's worth of jamming ["John L" and "Chondromalacia Patela"], and we were like, 'Oh shit, we've been jamming for a year and we've got two songs out of it.' We needed to think of a more productive way to write songs."
"I use a five-millimeter pick. When I was younger, I tried to play Gypsy jazz, and I heard that Django Reinhardt used a 5-millimeter pick."—Geordie Greep
"We were playing these longform, 20-minute tracks, which weren't even really songs," Greep adds. "They were just sound creations. When we started doing shows, we decided to write proper songs, and there were a few songs that were a lot more traditionally written. But for a while, we made songs by having the Can-style approach, where you jam out for ages and then take the best bits. We did that for the first album for the majority of the tunes. For Cavalcade, we've gone back to the more traditional songwriting approach. We were moving in that direction anyway. Almost half the album was already done before the whole coronavirus thing hit. The coronavirus just accelerated that change, really. It was inevitable."
In addition to taking a more pragmatic approach to songwriting, another big change when preparing for Cavalcade was that second guitarist, Matt Kwasniewski-Kelvin, took a hiatus from the band for personal reasons. Kwasniewski-Kelvin's departure had a major impact on their sound, as well as their songwriting. (Morgan Simpson remains as drummer.)
Illustration by Anthrox Studio
"When we did the first album—as well as for live performances—I always used a baritone guitar," Greep says. "The idea was that bass was the low end, Matt was on a regular guitar, and then the baritone I played was in the middle. It was an orchestral thing. But because Matt isn't a part of it this time around, I mainly just used a regular guitar. First of all, it was really nice to play the regular guitar again. It's a lot easier, and you're able to play proper chords. On baritone—or on any low instrument—when you play chords, or something like thirds lower down, they get completely lost. They start to sound out of tune or weird. Playing on the regular guitar and being able to do proper chord progressions in songs was refreshing and changed the music completely. On the first album, most of the music is monophonic. It was one chord droning away. We were doing different parts, but all on the one chord. But the music on Cavalcade is much more chord-progression based." Having a single guitarist also makes the music more spacious. "I've always liked bands where there would be a guitar solo without any rhythm guitar underneath, like in Rush. That was cool as well. That space made it interesting."
Geordie Greep's Gear
Guitars
- Reverend Descent baritone
- Yamaha SA-60
- Fender Stratocaster
Amps
- Orange TH30 Combo
Strings and Picks
- Ernie Ball Skinny Top Heavy Bottom (.010–.052)
- Ernie Ball 6-String Baritone Slinky (.013–.072)
- Dunlop Primetone Classic Sharp Tip Pick 5.0 mm
Effects
- Boss GE-7B Bass Equalizer
- Boss CS-2 Compression Sustainer
- Electro-Harmonix Stereo Memory Man with Hazarai
- Source Audio Ultrawave Multiband Processor
- Suhr Riot Distortion
- Keeley Bubble Tron Dynamic Flanger Phaser
Until the new album, Cavalcade, Greep's main stage guitar was his Reverend Descent baritone, so he could claim the space between original-line-up guitarist Matt Kwasniewski-Kelvin and bassist Cameron Picton, at Greep's left here.
Photo by Debi Del Grande
Cameron Picton's Gear
Basses
- Rickenbacker 4003
- Eastwood Sidejack
Amps
- Orange AD30
Strings
- Ernie Ball Slinky (.050–.105)
- Dunlop .77 mm
Effects
- Empress Bass Compressor
- ZVEX Mastotron
- MASF Raptio
- Boss DD-6 Digital Delay
- HomeBrew Electronics THC Chorus
- DOD Meatbox Subsynth
- Boss TU-3 Chromatic Tuner
Space, especially the long breaks in the hyper-tight, polyrhythmic, unison ensemble sections in songs like "John L," is another important tool the band uses to create a sense of tension and release. Although that's not always on purpose, and sometimes they're just doing it to keep the audience on their toes. "That bit in 'John L' … that's like King Crimson with the stops. That was a way to get a rhythm that we'll play that's, like, crazy in every set," Picton says. "A lot of it is loose and jammy, but we want to have one bit that is super-tight and with stupid changes. It's just a crazy rhythm and doing a constant beat."
Black Midi's complex rhythmic feel works in concert with their atonal, albeit accessible, approach to melody. At first listen, some of Greep's leads seem almost random, but that's not the case, and his concept is not as haphazard or avant-garde as you might think.
"I have quite a low concentration when it comes to traditional practice," Greep says about some of the more advanced harmonic concepts he's studied. "Stuff like that, I'll look into it for a few days, but my guitar playing really is just the blues scale—that and the major and minor scale. But I've never really thought of it in terms of scales. It's more that over time I'll slowly figure out what intervals I like, what ones I don't, which kinds of patterns I prefer, and which ones I don't. I've slowly built up a repository of riffs or patterns. In terms of any crazy scales, the only one I can think of that I consciously use is the octatonic scale [an eight-note scale that alternates between half-steps and whole steps]. I used that quite a lot on this album."
Clearly, careful attention to space, stark contrasts, dynamics, and composition were essential to the making of Cavalcade. Another key ingredient was tone, which, for Greep at least, comes from using a graphic EQ as an overdrive.
TIDBIT: Following their new modus operandi for songwriting, only two tunes on the new album grew out of jams. "We needed to think of a more productive way to write songs," says Cameron Picton.
"My main pedal on this album, which I used loads and loads and loads, is a Boss Bass Equalizer GE-7B that I got from eBay," he says. "It is a simple pedal and drives the amp in a nice way. When you hear people try to do an AC/DC or Black Sabbath sound, do you notice how they'll use too much distortion and it'll be too mushy? Yet on the stuff back then, you can hear the chords properly. That's because it is a loud amp, and it's not crazy stuff going on. This pedal retains that so you can play thick crazy chords—you can use a #11 or whatever—and yet you'll still be able to hear all the notes and it still has a nice sound. And that's my main drive sound."
Greep also has another trick up his sleeve. He uses enormous guitar picks. "I use a 5-millimeter pick," he says. Read that again. He doesn't mean a 0.5-millimeter guitar pick. He means a 5-millimeter guitar pick. "When I was younger, I tried to play Gypsy jazz, and I heard that Django Reinhardt used a 5-millimeter pick. I tried it out, and it makes it easier because it is such a bigger thing that you're holding. The dynamics are easier because you're not exerting as much stress between your thumb and finger. You can hold the pick lighter and play harder or lighter with less force. It's one of those things that sounds stupid, and then you try it and it is really cool. You play faster with it, too. It just gives you way more dexterity. I don't know how it works."
But, like seemingly everything else Black Midi does, it is unconventional. And you wouldn't expect it, but it does work.
black midi - bmbmbm (Hyundai Mercury Prize 2019)
Black Midi furiously perform their debut single, "bmbmbm," at the 2019 Mercury Prize awards. This is the earlier, two-guitar lineup, which includes the behatted Matt Kwasniewski-Kelvin on Telecaster. Geordie Greep plays his Reverend Baritone.
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Kevin Gordon and his beloved ES-125, in earlier days.
Looking for new fuel for your sound and songs? Nashville’s Kevin Gordon found both in exploring traditional blues tunings and their variations.
I first heard open guitar tunings while in college, from older players who’d become friends or mentors, and from various artists playing at the Delta Blues Festival in the early mid-’80s, which was held in a fallow field in Freedom Village, Mississippi—whose topographical limits likely did not extend beyond said field.
I remember Jessie Mae Hemphill wearing a full-length leopard-print coat and black cowboy hat in the September heat, walking through the crowd selling 45s, and James “Son” Thomas singing his bawdy version of “Catfish Blues.” Also, an assembly of older gentlemen passing a pint bottle, all wearing vests with the name of their fraternal society sewn on the back: Dead Peckers Club.
I played in master minimalist Bo Ramsey’s band from 1988 to ’90. Living in Iowa City, attending grad school for poetry, weekend gigs with Bo were another equally important kind of education. He was the first guy I played in a band with who used open tunings. Nothing exotic: open G or open E, early Muddy Waters and Elmore James. Music I had loved since growing up in Louisiana. This was our bond, the music we both considered bedrock. Some of my first songs, written for that band, featured Bo on slide guitar.
I moved to Nashville in 1992, a city already populated with a few friends—some from Iowa, some from Louisiana. Buddy Flett was from Shreveport; I’d loved his playing since seeing him in the band A-Train in the early ’80s. We’d go eat catfish at Wendell Smith’s, and inevitably talk about songs. He’d achieved some success as a writer, working with fellow north Louisianan David Egan, employing his own kind of sleight-of-hand mystery in both G and D tunings.
In 1993, I found a guitar that would change my life and my songwriting: a scrappy Gibson ES-125 from 1956, standing in a corner of a friend’s apartment in Nashville, covered in dust. I asked if I could borrow it, for no particular reason other than to get it out of there so that it would be played. I wrote a song on it, in double drop-D tuning [D–A–D–G–B–D]. Not a great song, but it got me thinking about open strings and tunings again. I was looking for a way to play solo shows that reflected where I came from, and where the songs came from that I was writing.“The droning aspect of open tunings always appealed to me, and in the context of solo gigs, the big sound of octaves ringing out helped this insecure guitar player sound a little taller, wider . . . something.”
So, I put the guitar in open D [D–A–D–F#–A–D], put flatwounds on it, and started figuring out chord shapes (other than barring flat across) that I could use to play my songs, all of which at that point had been written and performed in standard tuning. I’d bought a ’64 Fender Princeton amp years before, when I was 19, but had never found a use for it until now: The 125 through the Princeton on about four was the sound. The droning aspect of open tunings always appealed to me, and in the context of solo gigs, the big sound of octaves ringing out helped this insecure guitar player sound a little taller, wider . . . something. The fingerings I came up with all seemed to mask the third of the scale—so you’d have a big sound which was neither major nor minor. And for my songs, it just felt right. By the time I recorded my second album for Shanachie, Down to the Well, in 1999, I was writing songs in open D (“Pueblo Dog”). For the next two albums, released in 2005 and 2012, the majority of the songs were written and performed live in open D, employing a capo when necessary.
As usual, the methods and habits developed while touring fed back into the writing and recording processes. For my latest release, The In Between, though, most of the songs were written and recorded in standard—“Simple Things,” “Tammy Cecile,” “Coming Up”—with some exceptions, including “Keeping My Brother Down,” “You Can’t Hurt Me No More,” and the title track, on which I play a ’50s Gibson electric tenor archtop in a peculiar tuning: C–G–C–G. Though I can’t say that open tunings make for better songs, they do help me hear chords differently, at times suggesting progressions that I wouldn’t normally think of. One song currently in-progress has these verse changes: VIm / I / VIm / I / VIm / I / II / II. In standard tuning, that VI would sound (to my ear) too bright. But because I’m writing it in open D, how I fret the VI sounds low and dark, appropriate for the lyric and melody, creating the right setting for the lines and story to unfold.
Need more firepower? Here’s a collection of high-powered stomps that pack plenty of torque.
There’s a visceral feeling that goes along with really cranking the gain. Whether you’re using a clean amp or an already dirty setup, adding more gain can inspire you to play in an entirely different way. Below are a handful of pedals that can take you from classic crunch to death metal doom—and beyond.
Universal Audio UAFX Anti 1992 High Gain Amp Pedal
Early 1990s metal tones were iconic. The Anti 1992 offers that unique mix of overdrive and distortion in a feature-packed pedal. You get a 3-band EQ, noise gate, multiple cab and speaker combos, presets, and full control through the mobile app.
Revv G4 Red Channel Preamp/Overdrive/Distortion Pedal - Anniversary Edition
Based upon the red channel of the company’s Generator 120, this finely tuned circuit offers gain variation with its 3-position aggression switch.
MXR Yngwie Malmsteen Overdrive Pedal - Red
The Viking king of shred guitar has distilled his high-octane tone into a simple, two-knob overdrive. Designed for going into an already dirty amp, this stomp offers clarity, harmonics, and more.
Empress Effects Heavy Menace Distortion Pedal
Arguably the company’s most versatile dirt box, this iteration is all about EQ. It’s loaded with an immensely powerful 3-band EQ with a sweepable mid control, footswitchable noise gate, a low-end sculpting control, and three different distortion modes.
JHS Hard Drive Distortion Pedal - Tan
Designed by late JHS R&D engineer Cliff Smith, the Hard Drive is a powerful and heavy ode to the post-grunge sounds of the late ’90s and early ’00s. This original circuit takes inspiration from many places by including cascading gain stages and Baxandall bass and treble controls.
Boss HM-2W Waza Craft Heavy Metal Distortion Pedal
Few pedals captured the sound of Swedish death metal like the HM-2. The go-to setting is simple—all knobs maxed out. Flip over to the custom mode for more tonal range, higher gain, and thicker low end.
Electro-Harmonix Nano Metal Muff Distortion Pedal
Voiced with an aggressive, heavy tone with a tight low end, this pedal offers +/- 14 dB of bass, a powerful noise gate, and an LED to let you know when the gate is on.
Soldano Super Lead Overdrive Plus Pedal
Aimed to capture the sound of Mike Soldano’s flagship tube amp, the SLO uses the same cascading gain stages as the 100-watt head. It also has a side-mounted deep switch to add low-end punch.
We chat with Molly about Sister Rosetta’s “immediately impressive” playing, which blends jazz, gospel, chromaticism, and blues into an early rock ‘n’ roll style that was not only way ahead of its time but was also truly rockin’.
In the early ’60s, some of the British guitarists who would shape the direction of our instrument for decades to come all found themselves at a concert by Sister Rosetta Tharpe. What they heard from Tharpe and what made her performances so special—her sound, her energy—must have resonated. Back at home in the U.S., she was a captivating presence, wowing audiences going back to her early days in church through performing the first stadium rock ‘n’ roll concert—which was also one of her weddings—and beyond. Her guitar playing was incendiary, energetic, and a force to be reckoned with.
On this episode of 100 Guitarists, we’re joined by guitarist Molly Miller, who in addition to being a fantastic guitarist, educator, bandleader, and performing with Jason Mraz, is a bit of a Sister Rosetta scholar. We chat with Molly about Sister Rosetta’s “immediately impressive” playing, which blends jazz, gospel, chromaticism, and blues into an early rock ‘n’ roll style that was not only way ahead of its time but was also truly rockin’.
When Building Guitars—or Pursuing Anything—Go Down All the Rabbit Holes
Paul Reed Smith shows John Bohlinger how to detect the grain in a guitar-body blank, in a scene from PG’s PRS Factory Tour video.
Paul Reed Smith says being a guitar builder requires code-cracking, historical perspective, and an eclectic knowledge base. Mostly, it asks that we remain perpetual students and remain willing to become teachers.
I love to learn, and I don’t enjoy history kicking my ass. In other words, if my instrument-making predecessors—Ted McCarty, Leo Fender, Christian Martin, John Heiss, Antonio de Torres, G.B. Guadagnini, and Antonio Stradivari, to name a few—made an instrument that took my breath away when I played it, and it sounded better than what I had made, I wanted to know not just what they had done, but what they understood that I didn’t understand yet. And because it was clear to me that these masters understood some things that I didn’t, I would go down rabbit holes.
I am not a violin maker, but I’ve had my hands on some of Guadagnini’s and Stradivari’s instruments. While these instruments sounded wildly different, they had an unusual quality: the harder you plucked them the louder they got. That was enough to push me further down the rabbit hole of physics in instrument making. What made them special is a combination of deep understanding and an ability to tune the instrument and its vibrating surfaces so that it produced an extraordinary sound, full of harmonics and very little compression. It was the beginning of a document we live by at PRS Guitars called The Rules of Tone.
My art is electric and acoustic guitars, amplifiers, and speaker cabinets. So, I study bridge materials and designs, wood species and drying, tuning pegs, truss rods, pickups, finishes, neck shapes, inlays, electronics, Fender/Marshall/Dumble amp theories, schematics, parts, and overall aesthetics. I can’t tell you how much better I feel when I come to an understanding about what these masters knew, in combination with what we can manufacture in our facilities today.
One of my favorite popular beliefs is, “The reason Stradivari violins sound good is because of the sheep’s uric acid they soaked the wood in.” (I, too, have believed that to be true.) The truth is, it’s never just one thing: it’s a combination of complicated things. The problem I have is that I never hear anyone say the reason Stradivari violins sound good is because he really knew what he was doing. You don’t become a master of your craft by happenstance; you stay deeply curious and have an insatiable will to learn, apply what you learn, and progress.
“Acoustic and electric guitars, violins, drums, amplifiers, speaker cabinets–they will all talk to you if you listen.”
What’s interesting to me is, if a master passes away, everything they believed on the day they finished an instrument is still in that instrument. These acoustic and electric guitars, violins, drums, amplifiers, speaker cabinets—they will all talk to you if you listen. They will tell you what their maker believed the day they were made. In my world, you have to be a detective. I love that process.
I’ve had a chance to speak to the master himself. Leo Fender, who was not a direct teacher of mine but did teach me through his instruments, used to come by our booth at NAMM to pay his respects to the “new guitar maker.” I thought that was beautiful. I also got a chance to talk to Forrest White, who was Leo’s production manager, right before he passed away. What he wanted to know was, “How’d I do?” I said, “Forrest, you did great.” They wanted to know their careers and contributions were appreciated and would continue.
In my experience, great teachers throw a piece of meat over the fence to see if the dog will bite it. They don’t want to teach someone who doesn’t really want to learn and won’t continue their legacy and/or the art they were involved in. While I have learned so much from the masters who were gone before my time, I have also found that the best teaching is done one-on-one. Along my journey from high school bedroom to the world’s stages, I enrolled scores of teachers to help me. I didn’t justenroll them. I tackled them. I went after their knowledge and experience, which I needed for my own knowledge base to do this jack-of-all-trades job called guitar making and to lead a company without going out of business.
I’ve spent most of my career going down rabbit holes. Whether it’s wood, pickups, designs, metals, finishes, etc., I pay attention to all of it. Mostly, I’m looking backward to see how to go forward. Recently, we’ve been going more and more forward, and I can’t tell you how good that feels. For me, being a detective and learning is lifesaving for the company’s products and my own well-being.
Sometimes it takes a few days to come to what I believe. The majority of the time it’s 12 months. Occasionally, I’ll study something for a decade before I make up my mind in a strong way, and someone will then challenge that with another point of view. I’ll change my mind again, but mostly the decade decisions stick. I believe the lesson I’m hitting is “be very curious!” Find teachers. Stay a student. Become a teacher. Go down all the rabbit holes.