On Boleros Psicodélicos, Black Pumas cofounder, Adrian Quesada, explores traditional romantic Latin ballads from a personal, modern perspective.
You may know Grammy-winning guitarist and producer Adrian Quesada from his myriad and diverse projects like the nine-piece Latin funk ensemble Grupo Fantasma or Brownout—a gritty Fantasma side project that gained notoriety covering Black Sabbath (as Brown Sabbath) and Public Enemy (Fear of a Brown Planet)—and, more recently, Black Pumas, his critically acclaimed collaboration with vocalist and guitarist Eric Burton. But his most recent outing, Boleros Psicodélicos, an homage to the psychedelicized late-1960s take on the classic Cuban-cum-Mexican genre bolero, is one of his more interesting musical diversions.
The term bolero is loosely translated as “ballad,” although it refers to a specific type of song form derived from traditional folk poetry. As a genre, bolero is a dramatic, semi-theatrical musical style that got something of a facelift in the psychedelic era when groups like Los Angeles Negros and Los Pasteles Verdes reinterpreted them on more modern instruments like electric guitars—drenched in reverb, obviously—and combo organs, although without venturing too far from the music’s more traditional, romantic roots.
Adrian Quesada, iLe - Mentiras Con Cariño (Official Video)
On Boleros Psicodélicos, Quesada uses that classic bolero repertoire as a starting point, but the album is no revivalist tribute or throwback. He wrote most of the tracks, experimented with new timbres and technologies, and his approach is thoroughly modern. He’ll grab vintage gear—and run it through tape, too—if that’s what’s needed to get the sounds he’s after, but he’s not averse to digital effects and plug-ins, and the entire project, ultimately, was recorded inside the box.
“I do have a full analog setup, but I’m no purist with what the process is,” Quesada says. “That was true with this record, in particular, because Boleros Psicodélicos was pretty much recorded remotely. I started everything myself, sent it out to people, and they sent me files back. It was done during the pandemic, so nobody came into the studio.”
The digital process makes collaboration—not to mention editing—infinitely easier, although for Quesada it isn’t always the most productive route for finding the ideal tone.
“I would be dialing knobs for two hours and then I thought, ‘What if I just run it to tape?’ I ran it to tape—that takes 5 minutes—and I’m like, ‘That’s the sound I was hearing.’”
“Plug-ins and whatnot are really pretty amazing now, as is the modeling you can get digitally,” he says, “but man, there were times where I’d spend two hours pulling up all the modeling and plug-ins to get that tape-and-tubes sound. I would be dialing knobs for two hours and then I thought, ‘What if I just run it to tape?’ I ran it to tape—that takes 5 minutes—and I’m like, ‘That’s the sound I was hearing.’”
Boleros Psicodélicos is also dripping in rivers of tremolo. The effect wasn’t that prevalent on the classic psychedelic boleros, but Quesada couldn’t resist. “I love everything with tremolo,” he says. “I put tremolo on everything.” As a general approach, he goes for the best sound, regardless of the technology most aficionados insist is the only way to achieve it. For tremolo—and despite a studio full of classic amps loaded with an assortment of vintage warbles—he often found himself leaning on the completely digital Strymon Flint.
“If I had to keep one pedal on my pedalboard, that would be it,” he says about the device. “I do have a lot of different tremolos in the studio as well—and you can’t beat amp tremolo, a lot of those just sound so musical and a lot more natural—but on the record I used the Strymon Flint a lot. It’s so easy and practical, and has color.”
Adrian Quesada recorded Boleros Psicodélicos during the pandemic, collaborating remotely with Marc Ribot, Ileana Mercedes Cabra Joglar, Gaby Moreno, Money Mark, and many others.
On Boleros Psicodélicos, you can hear Quesada’s tremolo in action in the subtle orchestrated textures he employs on tracks like “Mentiras Con Cariño,” which features Grammy-winning vocalist Ileana Mercedes Cabra Joglar, otherwise known as iLe, as well as the lush—that’s “lush” in a very mid-’70s Holiday Inn-hotel-bar kind of way—“El León.” He uses other tones not usually associated with bolero as well, like a wah for the beautiful and catchy leads on “El Muchacho De Los Ojos Tristes” and an acoustic on “Tus Tormentas.”
Throughout his career, and regardless of genre, he’s always gravitated toward grittier, complex sounds. “With guitar, I’ve always liked a tiny bit of dirt on there,” Quesada says. “Whether it’s pushing an amp to get the sound… tubes crunching up is a very appealing sound to me, although I also like the sound of tape reacting. I like those artifacts that come with it. I don’t like the guitar to be too smooth. I prefer fuzz tones over overdrive. I like things that have a little more color to them. Even if they can be a little bit abrasive, that’s where I gravitate. I like things with character like that.”
“I don’t like the guitar to be too smooth. I prefer fuzz tones over overdrive. I like things that have a little more color to them—even if they can be a little bit abrasive, that’s where I gravitate. I like things with character like that.”
A good example of that on Boleros Psicodélicos—at least, just a touch—is Marc Ribot’s guest performance on “Hielo Seco,” which also features Money Mark of Beastie Boys fame.
“Marc was a big influence on me,” Quesada says. “When I was in college and really discovering this music, he had done a project called Los Cubanos Postizos, which means ‘the Prosthetic Cubans.’ He was doing Cuban music and it was almost traditional—the rhythms were correct—but he was playing electric guitar with a tremolo. You know, my use of the tremolo, honestly, especially in lead playing, a lot of that came from hearing him play. Everything was overdriven with a tremolo. It was just such a different approach to Latin music and his leads were so unique. You could tell he knew jazz, but he wasn’t quite playing like that. It was really outside the box.”
Adrian Quesada’s Gear
Adrian Quesada’s pedalboard currently has eight pedals, but the MVP is his Strymon Flint. “If I had to keep one pedal on my pedalboard, that would be it,” he says.
Guitars
- Fender Parallel Universe Jazz Strat
- Fender Custom Shop Telecaster with humbucker in neck position
- Gibson ES-446
- Gibson ES-125
Amps
- 1965 Fender Deluxe Reverb
- 1972 Fender Deluxe Reverb
- Fender Princeton Handwired Reissue
- Fender Tweed Champ
- Fender Twin
- Gibson GA-20
Effects
- Strymon Flint
- Electro-Harmonix Holy Grail Nano
- Dunlop Cry Baby Wah
- Line 6 ToneCore Echo Park
- Catalinbread Epoch Boost
- Catalinbread Echorec
- EarthQuaker Devices Park Fuzz Sound
- TC Electronic PolyTune 2
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario Super Light Plus (.095–.044) or .010 (.010–.046) sets
- Green Dunlop Tortex .88 mm
Coming full circle, it was a fortuitous glitch in the matrix that led to Ribot appearing on the record. “I hit a wall when I was recording ‘Hielo Seco,’” Quesada continues. “I was going to play guitar on it myself and I was getting tired. I was like, ‘What can I do to finish this song?’ I was working in my yard one day and the YouTube algorithm spit out one of those Marc Ribot Los Cubanos Postizos songs. I thought, ‘He would be perfect for the song,’ and luckily, he did it.”
Often in the studio, Quesada gets those distorted sounds plugging direct into the board and recording to tape, without bothering with an amp. He also prefers the sound of a tape reel that’s been used a few times, which he feels adds character.
“I like what it does after you reuse it a little bit,” he says. “You tame some of the high end and that’s favorable to me for some stuff like drums and guitars. I reuse a reel for just enough—to where I start hearing a little bit too much degradation—and then I get a new one. But I will recycle them for quite a few runs though. It’s like breaking in guitar strings—by the third or fourth show you realize they’re not as stiff anymore.”
Adrian Quesada fingerpicks a Gibson ES-125 archtop in this outtake from the music video for the lead single, “Mentiras Con Cariño,” from Boleros Psicodélicos.
Photo by César Berrios
One hallmark of Quesada’s approach to production, which stands out on Boleros Psicodélicos, is his exceptional sense of orchestration. He brings in subtle touches, often for just a single verse or repeated figure—like a fingerpicked part or a mild tremolo warble—that, although understated and hard to catch on first listen, transforms an arrangement.
He approaches each composition with a concept in his head and records the basic tracks with those ideas in mind—usually to give the vocalist guideposts to work with—and then revisits the entire arrangement once the vocals are complete.
“I was working in my yard one day and the YouTube algorithm spit out one of those Marc Ribot Los Cubanos Postizos songs. I thought, ‘He would be perfect for the song,’ and luckily, he did it.”
“I hear most of the arrangement already before a singer even does anything,” he says. “But I try not to overdo it. It’s a real fine balance you have to find. I want to put enough color in there for the singer to react to and to feel certain moments that I want accented, but, also, I don’t want to overpower. I want to leave room to hear what they do. It’s like two stages, and when I get the files back, I usually go in there and strip stuff away—I put some stuff back, too—and use their vocals to figure out where I can bring certain things out, but also not step on the vocals. It’s almost like cooking: I try and wait for the end to really add everything.”
That intricate production style—as amazing as it sounds on record—can be something of a disadvantage when trying to perform the music live. What gets left out? What is essential? Does the music suffer? That was a particular challenge for Boleros Psicodélicos, because the music was never intended to be played in front of an audience.
Casada at his Electric Deluxe Studios in South Austin, Texas.
Photo by Jackie Lee Young
“We did some radio promotion, and that was the first time these songs had been played live,” Quesada says. “We had to rehearse and commit to what parts we wanted to keep and what we wanted to scrap. It was a good challenge to get in there and decide what was really crucial. Obviously, there are going to be parts that are not going to be there—because I can’t have a 20-piece band—but honestly, when I’m making an album like that, I try to imagine somewhat what it would be like if we were together in a room. I try to make it seem somewhat natural or human. I don’t like to record 40 guitars just to do it.”
That’s similar to how the Black Pumas’ album was recorded as well. “With Black Pumas, it was almost like night and day. When we made that album, we hadn’t really played live, either. But once we started to play live, all the songs took on another life. It’s almost like completely different arrangements from the album.”
“It’s almost like cooking: I try and wait for the end to really add everything."
Pulling together those influences—which is drawn from years of experience and a well-defined aesthetic sense—is ultimately how Quesada puts the pieces together. It’s how he can take an older, beloved genre like bolero and coax out something that’s contemporary and relevant, and real.
“When I started the Boleros album, I had a playlist of inspiration songs I was using at first to get off the ground, but honestly, I didn’t want to get stuck making a covers album or any sort of carbon copy—you can just go back and hear the originals. I used the older music as a template, but then I ran with it. I tried to make it a little bit more varied and a little truer to myself than just covering it exactly. After a while, I stopped referencing the old stuff and was just off on my own. Obviously, it’s still in the ballpark referencing the older material, but I wasn’t trying to copy anything.”
Adrian Quesada's Boleros Psicodélicos in KUTX Studio 1A
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Beauty and sweet sonority elevate a simple-to-use, streamlined acoustic and vocal amplifier.
An EQ curve that trades accuracy for warmth. Easy-to-learn, simple-to-use controls. It’s pretty!
Still exhibits some classic acoustic-amplification problems, like brash, unforgiving midrange if you’re not careful.
$1,199
Taylor Circa 74
taylorguitars.com
Save for a few notable (usually expensive) exceptions, acoustic amplifiers are rarely beautiful in a way that matches the intrinsic loveliness of an acoustic flattop. I’ve certainly seen companies try—usually by using brown-colored vinyl to convey … earthiness? Don’t get me wrong, a lot of these amps sound great and even look okay. But the bar for aesthetics, in my admittedly snotty opinion, remains rather low. So, my hat’s off to Taylor for clearing that bar so decisively and with such style. The Circa 74 is, indeed, a pretty piece of work that’s forgiving to work with, ease to use, streamlined, and sharp.
Boxing Beyond Utility
Any discussion of trees or wood with Bob Taylor is a gas, and highly instructive. He loves the stuff and has dabbled before in amplifier designs that made wood an integral feature, rather than just trim. But the Circa 74 is more than just an aesthetic exercise. Because the Taylor gang started to think in a relatively unorthodox way about acoustic sound amplification—eschewing the notion that flat frequency response is the only path to attractive acoustic tone.
I completely get this. I kind of hate flat-response speakers. I hate nice monitors. We used to have a joke at a studio I frequented about a pair of monitors that often made us feel angry and agitated. Except that they really did. Flat sound can be flat-out exhausting and lame. What brings me happiness is listening to Lee “Scratch” Perry—loud—on a lazy Sunday on my secondhand ’70s Klipsch speakers. One kind of listening is like staring at a sun-dappled summer garden gone to riot with flowers. The other sometimes feels like a stale cheese sandwich delivered by robot.
The idea that live acoustic music—and all its best, earthy nuances—can be successfully communicated via a system that imparts its own color is naturally at odds with acoustic culture’s ethos of organic-ness, authenticity, and directness. But where does purity end and begin in an amplified acoustic signal? An undersaddle pickup isn’t made of wood. A PA with flat-response speakers didn’t grow in a forest. So why not build an amp with color—the kind of color that makes listening to music a pleasure and not a chore?
To some extent, that question became the design brief that drove the evolution of the Circa 74. Not coincidentally, the Circa 74 feels as effortless to use as a familiar old hi-fi. It has none of the little buttons for phase correction that make me anxious every time I see one. There’s two channels: one with an XLR/1/4" combo input, which serves as the vocal channel if you are a singer; another with a 1/4" input for your instrument. Each channel consists of just five controls—level, bass, middle, and treble EQ, and a reverb. An 11th chickenhead knob just beneath the jewel lamp governs the master output. That’s it, if you don’t include the Bluetooth pairing button and 1/8" jacks for auxiliary sound sources and headphones. Power, by the way, is rated at 150 watts. That pours forth through a 10" speaker.Pretty in Practice
I don’t want to get carried away with the experiential and aesthetic aspects of the Circa 74. It’s an amplifier with a job to do, after all. But I had fun setting it up—finding a visually harmonious place among a few old black-panel Fender amps and tweed cabinets, where it looked very much at home, and in many respects equally timeless.
Plugging in a vocal mic and getting a balance with my guitar happened in what felt like 60 seconds. Better still, the sound that came from the Circa 74, including an exceedingly croaky, flu-addled human voice, sounded natural and un-abrasive. The Circa 74 isn’t beyond needing an assist. Getting the most accurate picture of a J-45 with a dual-source pickup meant using both the treble and midrange in the lower third of their range. Anything brighter sounded brash. A darker, all-mahogany 00, however, preferred a scooped EQ profile with the treble well into the middle of its range. You still have to do the work of overcoming classic amplification problems like extra-present high mids and boxiness. But the fixes come fast, easily, and intuitively. The sound may not suggest listening to an audiophile copy of Abbey Road, as some discussions of the amp would lead you to expect. But there is a cohesiveness, particularly in the low midrange, that does give it the feel of something mixed, even produced, but still quite organic.
The Verdict
Taylor got one thing right: The aesthetic appeal of the Circa 74 has a way of compelling you to play and sing. Well, actually, they got a bunch of things right. The EQ is responsive and makes it easy to achieve a warm representation of your acoustic, no matter what its tone signature. It’s also genuinely attractive. It’s not perfectly accurate. Instead, it’s rich in low-mid resonance and responsive to treble-frequency tweaks—lending a glow not a million miles away from a soothing home stereo. I think that approach to acoustic amplification is as valid as the quest for transparency. I’m excited to see how that thinking evolves, and how Taylor responds to their discoveries.
The evolution of Electro-Harmonix’s very first effect yields a powerful boost and equalization machine at a rock-bottom price.
A handy and versatile preamp/booster that goes well beyond the average basic booster’s range. Powerful EQ section.
Can sound a little harsh at more extreme EQ ranges.
$129
Electro-Harmonix LPB-3
ehx.com
Descended from the first Electro-Harmonix pedal ever released, the LPB-1 Linear Power Booster, the new LPB-3 has come a long way from the simple, one-knob unit in a folded-metal enclosure that plugged straight into your amplifier. Now living in Electro-Harmonix’s compact Nano chassis, the LPB-3 Linear Power Booster and EQ boasts six control knobs, two switches, and more gain than ever before.
If 3 Were 6
With six times the controls found on the 1 and 2 versions (if you discount the original’s on/off slider switch,) the LPB-3’s control complement offers pre-gain, boost, mid freq, bass, treble, and mid knobs, with a center detent on the latter three so you can find the midpoint easily. A mini-toggle labeled “max” selects between 20 dB and 33 dB of maximum gain, and another labeled “Q” flips the resonance of the mid EQ between high and low. Obviously, this represents a significant expansion of the LPB’s capabilities.
More than just a booster with a passive tone, the LPB-3 boasts a genuine active EQ stage plus parametric midrange section, comprising the two knobs with shaded legends, mid freq and mid level. The gain stages have also been reimagined to include a pre-gain stage before the EQ, which enables up to 20 dB of input gain. The boost stage that follows the EQ is essentially a level control with gain to allow for up to 33 dB of gain through the LPB-3 when the “max” mini toggle is set to 33dB
A slider switch accessible inside the pedal selects between buffered or true bypass for the hard-latch footswitch. An AC adapter is included, which supplies 200mA of DC at 9.6 volts to the center-negative power input, and EHX specifies that nothing supplying less than 120mA or more than 12 volts should be used. There’s no space for an internal battery.
Power-Boosted
The LPB-3 reveals boatloads of range that betters many linear boosts on the market. There’s lots of tone-shaping power here. Uncolored boost is available when you want it, and the preamp gain knob colors and fattens your signal as you crank it up—even before you tap into the massive flexibility in the EQ stage.
“The preamp gain knob colors and fattens your signal as you crank it up—even before you tap into the massive flexibility in the EQ stage.”
I found the two mid controls work best when used judiciously, and my guitars and amps preferred subtle changes pretty close to the midpoint on each. However, there are still tremendous variations in your mid boost (or scoop, for that matter) within just 15 or 20 percent range in either direction from the center detent. Pushing the boost and pre-gain too far, particularly with the 33 dB setting engaged, can lead to some harsh sounds, but they are easy to avoid and might even be desirable for some users that like to work at more creative extremes.
The Verdict
The new LPB-3 has much, much more range than its predecessors, providing flexible preamp, boost, and overdrive sounds that can be reshaped in significant ways via the powerful EQ. It gives precise tone-tuning flexibility to sticklers that like to match a guitar and amp to a song in a very precise way, but also opens up more radical paths for experimentalists. That it does all this at a $129 price is beyond reasonable.
Electro-Harmonix Lpb-3 Linear Power Booster & Eq Effect Pedal Silver And Blue
Intermediate
Intermediate
• Learn classic turnarounds.
• Add depth and interest to common progressions.
• Stretch out harmonically with hip substitutions.
Get back to center in musical and ear-catching ways.
A turnaround chord progression has one mission: It allows the music to continue seamlessly back to the beginning of the form while reinforcing the key center in a musically interesting way. Consider the last four measures of a 12-bar blues in F, where the bare-bones harmony would be C7-Bb7-F7-F7 (one chord per measure). With no turn around in the last two measures, you would go back to the top of the form, landing on another F7. That’s a lot of F7, both at the end of the form, and then again in the first four bars of the blues. Without a turnaround, you run the risk of obscuring the form of the song. It would be like writing a novel without using paragraphs or punctuation.
The most common turnaround is the I-VI-ii-V chord progression, which can be applied to the end of the blues and is frequently used when playing jazz standards. Our first four turnarounds are based on this chord progression. Furthermore, by using substitutions and chord quality changes, you get more mileage out of the I-VI-ii-V without changing the basic functionality of the turnaround itself. The second group of four turnarounds features unique progressions that have been borrowed from songs or were created from a theoretical idea.
In each example, I added extensions and alterations to each chord and stayed away from the pure R-3-5-7 voicings. This will give each chord sequence more color and interesting voice leading. Each turnaround has a companion solo line that reflects the sound of the changes. Shell voicings (root, 3rd, 7th) are played underneath so that the line carries the sound of the written chord changes, making it easier to hear the sound of the extensions and alterations. All examples are in the key of C. Let’s hit it.
The first turnaround is the tried and true I-VI-ii-V progression, played as Cmaj7-A7-Dm7-G7. Ex. 1 begins with C6/9, to A7(#5), to Dm9, to G7(#5), and resolves to Cmaj7(#11). By using these extensions and alterations, I get a smoother, mostly chromatic melodic line at the top of the chord progression.
Ex. 2 shows one possible line that you can create. As for scale choices, I used C major pentatonic over C6/9, A whole tone for A7(#5), D Dorian for Dm9, G whole tone for G7(#5), and C Lydian for Cmaj7(#11) to get a more modern sound.
The next turnaround is the iii-VI-ii-V progression, played as Em7-A7-Dm7-G7 where the Em7 is substituted for Cmaj7. The more elaborate version in Ex. 3 shows Em9 to A7(#9)/C#, to Dm6/9, to G9/B, resolving to Cmaj7(add6). A common way to substitute chords is to use the diatonic chord that is a 3rd above the written chord. So, to sub out the I chord (Cmaj7) you would use the iii chord (Em7). By spelling Cmaj7 = C-E-G-B and Em7 = E-G-B-D, you can see that these two chords have three notes in common, and will sound similar over the fundamental bass note, C. The dominant 7ths are in first inversion, but serve the same function while having a more interesting bass line.
The line in Ex. 4 uses E Dorian over Em9, A half-whole diminished over A7(#9)/C#, D Dorian over Dm6/9, G Mixolydian over G9/B, and C major pentatonic over Cmaj7(add6). The chord qualities we deal with most are major 7, dominant 7, and minor 7. A quality change is just that… changing the quality of the written chord to another one. You could take a major 7 and change it to a dominant 7, or even a minor 7. Hence the III-VI-II-V turnaround, where the III and the VI have both been changed to a dominant 7, and the basic changes would be E7-A7-D7-G7.
See Ex. 5, where E7(b9) moves to A7(#11), to D7(#9) to G7(#5) to Cmaj9. My scale choices for the line in Ex. 6 are E half-whole diminished over E7(#9), A Lydian Dominant for A7(#11), D half-whole diminished for D7(#9), G whole tone for G7(#5), and C Ionian for Cmaj9.
Ex. 7 is last example in the I-VI-ii-V category. Here, the VI and V are replaced with their tritone substitutes. Specifically, A7 is replaced with Eb7, and G7 is replaced with Db7, and the basic progression becomes Cmaj7-Eb7-Dm7-Db7. Instead of altering the tritone subs, I used a suspended 4th sound that helped to achieve a diatonic, step-wise melody in the top voice of the chord progression.
The usual scales can be found an Ex. 8, where are use a C major pentatonic over C6/9, Eb Mixolydian over Eb7sus4, D Dorian over Dm11, Db Mixolydian over Db7sus4, and once again, C Lydian over Cmaj7(#11). You might notice that the shapes created by the two Mixolydian modes look eerily similar to minor pentatonic shapes. That is by design, since a Bb minor pentatonic contains the notes of an Eb7sus4 chord. Similarly, you would use an Ab minor pentatonic for Db7sus4.
The next four turnarounds are not based on the I-VI-ii-V chord progression, but have been adapted from other songs or theoretical ideas. Ex. 9 is called the “Backdoor” turnaround, and uses a iv-bVII-I chord progression, played as Fm7-Bb7-Cmaj7. In order to keep the two-bar phrase intact, a full measure of C precedes the actual turnaround. I was able to compose a descending whole-step melodic line in the top voice by using Cmaj13 and Cadd9/E in the first bar, Fm6 and Ab/Bb in the second bar, and then resolving to G/C. The slash chords have a more open sound, and are being used as substitutes for the original changes. They have the same function, and they share notes with their full 7th chord counterparts.
Creating the line in Ex. 10 is no more complicated than the other examples since the function of the chords determines which mode or scale to use. The first measure employs the C Ionian mode over the two Cmaj chord sounds. F Dorian is used over Fm6 in bar two. Since Ab/Bb is a substitute for Bb7, I used Bb Mixolydian. In the last measure, C Ionian is used over the top of G/C.
The progression in Ex. 11 is the called the “Lady Bird” turnaround because it is lifted verbatim from the Tadd Dameron song of the same name. It is a I-bIII-bVI-bII chord progression usually played as Cmaj7-Eb7-Abmaj7-Db7. Depending on the recording or the book that you check out, there are slight variations in the last chord but Db7 seems to be the most used. Dressing up this progression, I started with a different G/C voicing, to Eb9(#11), to Eb/Ab (subbing for Abmaj7), to Db9(#11), resolving to C(add#11). In this example, the slash chords are functioning as major seventh chords.
As a result, my scale choices for the line in Ex. 12 are C Ionian over G/C, Eb Lydian Dominant over Eb9(#11), Ab Ionian over Eb/Ab, Db Lydian Dominant over Db9(#11), and C Lydian over C(add#11).
The progression in Ex. 13 is called an “equal interval” turnaround, where the interval between the chords is the same in each measure. Here, the interval is a descending major 3rd that creates a I-bVI-IV-bII sequence, played as Cmaj7-Abmaj7-Fmaj7-Dbmaj7, and will resolve a half-step down to Cmaj7 at the top of the form. Since the interval structure and chord type is the same in both measures, it’s easy to plane sets of voicings up or down the neck. I chose to plane up the neck by using G/C to Abmaj13, then C/F to Dbmaj13, resolving on Cmaj7/E.
The line in Ex. 14 was composed by using the notes of the triad for the slash chord and the Lydian mode for the maj13 chords. For G/C, the notes of the G triad (G-B-D) were used to get an angular line that moves to Ab Lydian over Abmaj13. In the next measure, C/F is represented by the notes of the C triad (C-E-G) along with the root note, F. Db Lydian was used over Dbmaj13, finally resolving to C Ionian over Cmaj7/E. Since this chord progression is not considered “functional” and all the chord sounds are essentially the same, you could use Lydian over each chord as a way to tie the sound of the line together. So, use C Lydian, Ab Lydian, F Lydian, Db Lydian, resolving back to C Lydian.
The last example is the “Radiohead” turnaround since it is based off the chord progression from their song “Creep.” This would be a I-III-IV-iv progression, and played Cmaj7-E7-Fmaj7-Fm7. Dressing this one up, I use a couple of voicings that had an hourglass shape, where close intervals were in the middle of the stack.
In Ex. 15 C6/9 moves to E7(#5), then to Fmaj13, to Fm6 and resolving to G/C. Another potential name for the Fmaj13 would be Fmaj7(add6) since the note D is within the first octave. This chord would function the same way, regardless of which name you used.
Soloing over this progression in Ex. 16, I used the C major pentatonic over C6/9, E whole tone over E7(#5), F Lydian over Fmaj13, and F Dorian over Fm6. Again, for G/C, the notes of the G triad were used with the note E, the 3rd of a Cmaj7 chord.
The main thing to remember about the I-VI-ii-V turnaround is that it is very adaptable. If you learn how to use extensions and alterations, chord substitutions, and quality changes, you can create some fairly unique chord progressions. It may seem like there are many different turnarounds, but they’re really just an adaptation of the basic I-VI-ii-V progression.
Regarding other types of turnarounds, see if you can steal a short chord progression from a pop tune and make it work. Or, experiment with other types of intervals that would move the chord changes further apart, or even closer together. Could you create a turnaround that uses all minor seventh chords? There are plenty of crazy ideas out there to work with, and if it sounds good to you, use it!
Many listeners and musicians can tell if a bass player is really a guitarist in disguise. Here’s how you can brush up on your bass chops.
Was bass your first instrument, or did you start out on guitar? Some of the world’s best bass players started off as guitar players, sometimes by chance. When Stuart Sutcliffe—originally a guitarist himself—left the Beatles in 1961, bass duties fell to rhythm guitarist Paul McCartney, who fully adopted the role and soon became one of the undeniable bass greats.
Since there are so many more guitarists than bassists—think of it as a supply and demand issue—odds are that if you’re a guitarist, you’ve at least dabbled in bass or have picked up the instrument to fill in or facilitate a home recording.
But there’s a difference between a guitarist who plays bass and one who becomes a bass player. Part of what’s different is how you approach the music, but part of it is attitude.
Many listeners and musicians can tell if a bass player is really a guitarist in disguise. They simply play differently than someone who spends most of their musical time embodying the low end. But if you’re really trying to put down some bass, you don’t want to sound like a bass tourist. Real bassists think differently about the rhythm, the groove, and the harmony happening in each moment.
And who knows … if you, as a guitarist, thoroughly adopt the bassist mindset, you might just find your true calling on the mightiest of instruments. Now, I’m not exactly recruiting, but if you have the interest, the aptitude, and—perhaps most of all—the necessity, here are some ways you can be less like a guitarist who plays bass, and more like a bona fide bass player.
Start by playing fewer notes. Yes, everybody can see that you’ve practiced your scales. But at least until you get locked in rhythmically, use your ears more than your fingers and get a sense of how your bass parts mesh with the other musical elements. You are the glue that holds everything together. Recognize that you’re at the intersection of rhythm and harmony, and you’ll realize foundation beats flash every time.“If Larry Graham, one of the baddest bassists there has ever been, could stick to the same note throughout Sly & the Family Stone’s ‘Everyday People,’ then you too can deliver a repetitive figure when it’s called for.”
Focus on that kick drum. Make sure you’re locked in with the drummer. That doesn’t mean you have to play a note with every kick, but there should be some synchronicity. You and the drummer should be working together to create the rhythmic drive. Laying down a solid bass line is no time for expressive rubato phrasing. Lock it up—and have fun with it.
Don’t sleep on the snare. What does it feel like to leave a perfect hole for the snare drum’s hits on two and four? What if you just leave space for half of them? Try locking the ends of your notes to the snare’s backbeat. This is just one of the ways to create a rhythmic feel together with the drummer, so you produce a pocket that everyone else can groove to.
Relish your newfound harmonic power. Move that major chord root down a third, and now you have a minor 7 chord. Play the fifth under a IV chord and you have a IV/V (“four over five,” which fancy folks sometimes call an 11 chord). The point is to realize that the bottom note defines the harmony. Sting put it like this: “It’s not a C chord until I play a C. You can change harmony very subtly but very effectively as a bass player. That’s one of the great privileges of our role and why I love playing bass. I enjoy the sound of it, I enjoy its harmonic power, and it’s a sort of subtle heroism.”
Embrace the ostinato. If the song calls for playing the same motif over and over, don’t think of it as boring. Think of it as hypnotic, tension-building, relentless, and an exercise in restraint. Countless James Brown songs bear this out, but my current favorite example is the bass line on the Pointer Sisters’ swampy cover of Allen Toussaint “Yes We Can Can,” which was played by Richard Greene of the Hoodoo Rhythm Devils, aka Dexter C. Plates. Think about it: If Larry Graham, one of the baddest bassists there has ever been, could stick to the same note throughout Sly & the Family Stone’s “Everyday People,” then you too can deliver a repetitive figure when it’s called for.
Be supportive. Though you may stretch out from time to time, your main job is to support the song and your fellow musicians. Consider how you can make your bandmates sound better using your phrasing, your dynamics, and note choices. For example, you could gradually raise the energy during guitar solos. Keep that supportive mindset when you’re offstage, too. Some guitarists have an attitude of competitiveness and even scrutiny when checking out other players, but bassists tend to offer mutual support and encouragement. Share those good vibes with enthusiasm.
And finally, give and take criticism with ease. This one’s for all musicians: Humility and a sense of helpfulness can go a long way. Ideally, everyone should be working toward the common goal of what’s good for the song. As the bass player, you might find yourself leading the way.