Animals as Leaders’ Tosin Abasi and Javier Reyes Rediscover “Real” Amps
Looking to the past for inspiration as they haul ass toward the future of guitar—with elite instruments, innovative techniques, and the stunning compositional arc of the new album Parrhesia.
How often does a player come along that legitimately advances and expands the vocabulary of electric guitar? How often does a player come along that changes the fashion of guitar? In the case of Animals as Leaders’ illustrious guitar tag-team, Tosin Abasi and Javier Reyes, their contributions as players, songwriters, gear designers, and producers have not just changed guitar culture but arguably dragged it into the future. And whether you’re onboard with the program—djent, prog, nu-fusion, call it what you will—Abasi and Reyes have played an inordinate role in inspiring a new generation of guitarists to pick up extended-scale instruments, download some plug-ins, and hit the Instagram woodshed.
Abasi and Reyes don’t just write incredibly technical music. They write incredibly technical music with artistic intention and emotional impact that’s much deeper than their fretboard histrionics might initially seem. Armed with signature 7- and 8-string guitars they’ve helped design, the duo approach Animals as Leaders’ music with the cerebral focus of symphonic composers.
For open-minded fans of guitar, the techniques the pair employ within the group’s evocative songs are a revelation. Abasi has developed surprising selective picking approaches, next-level melodic tapping, and a unique thumping, athletic take on slap guitar that blends the longstanding bass-birthed approach with classical fingerpicking. And in Reyes, Abasi has found the ideal foil and co-writer for his radical approaches and musical concepts. Reyes’ own playing style is best described as a unique extension of classical guitar. He’s a fundamentally gifted player whose work underpinning and supporting Abasi’s flights of fancy is often taken for granted. That said, Reyes makes no bones about being a song-first type of guy and the potency of their pairing is undeniable.
ANIMALS AS LEADERS - The Problem of Other Minds (Official Music Video)
On the new Parrhesia, Animals as Leaders—completed by drummer Matt Garstka—reprise the more aggressive sound of their early albums. However, the threads of fusion, electronica, and textural intrigue that have defined their last few releases lace up Parrhesia in a waythat reconciles this band’s maturity and sophistication with their perennial desire to pen viscous, visceral extended-scale riffs. Written and recorded in collaboration with Misha Mansoor (Periphery, Bulb), the group’s longtime ghost member and a bona fide guitar hero himself, Parrhesia is as much a defining document of where progressive metal is at in 2022 as it is a vehicle for Abasi and Reyes’ jaw-dropping prowess as guitarists and songwriters.
In this wide-ranging interview, Abasi and Reyes take us inside the making of their long-awaited new work, dig deep on the esoteric and heady musical concepts and playing techniques that shaped the sound of Parrhesia, tell us why real tube amps edged out their long-trusted modelers, and Abasi discusses everything from purchasing Joe Bonamassa’s TrueFire courses, designing signature guitars, and beyond.
There was a much longer gestation period between this record and 2016’s The Madness of Many. I know part of that was simply the pandemic. Can you tell us about the writing process, how the extra time played a role, and what made writing this album unique relative to other Animals as Leaders recordings?
Tosin Abasi: You’re right, the pandemic did kind of throw a wrench in it because there was a period where we were just afraid to get into the same room. Then there’s the mental side, where it just got weird for a second. We felt hesitant because do you really want to release an album that you can’t tour on? Everyone’s lives got a bit turned upside down and I had some periods where I just wasn’t feeling creative, so when you combine all of that, there is a big chunk added to the distance between the last record and this one because of things outside of our control. I’m sure we’re not alone in that regard.
“I’ve flirted with the idea of doing a blues album—which sounds funny to say—but I would put a twist on it.” —Tosin Abasi
Javier Reyes: We also wanted to give ourselves some time and not fully repeat ourselves. I think we have a style, but we try to come up with new versions of that style on every release. So, it was nice to have that big break and space to write. Most of the writing was done in person. We don’t jam out any material. We sit in front of a computer. Considering the complexity of the rhythms and the guitar parts, jamming in a band room isn’t productive, considering that sometimes a single riff of ours may take weeks to get right. We try to let the song dictate where it’s gonna go.
The pandemic seems to have been really polarizing for creatives, where people either completely shut down or they went deep in their craft.
Abasi: I’m glad you brought that up because I was actually feeling burnt out on touring. As a human being, when being home is constantly a temporary thing, you feel like you’re missing out on the part of your life that isn’t holding a guitar. So, I had secretly been wanting some time off from touring. But as a musician, I had a huge burst of creativity where I was like, “Whoa, I have all this time to play!” So, I started buying TrueFire lessons and going on YouTube and learning more guitar, which was cool! There was a big chunk in the beginning of the pandemic where I was hyper-productive and hyper-creative.
Whose TrueFire courses did you buy?
Abasi: I was trying to work on my weak points, and I’m not a blues player, so I bought some blues lessons from Oz Noy, Josh Smith, and Ariel Posen. I’m still doing that. Joe Bonamassa just released some TrueFire stuff that’s really good. Beyond the blues stuff, I was looking at Alex Jung, who’s got a lot of etudes that are based off of individual scale concepts, like Messiaen modes or melodic minors.
Tosin Abasi, with his ergonomic, fanned-fretted Abasi Concepts Larada Master Series model, blends ferocity, melody, and imagination in every studio or stage appearance, but he also has an appreciation of fundamental guitar building blocks, like blues licks.
Photo by Annie Atlasman
So, you’re studying blues? Are we going to hear some boomer bends on the next album?
Abasi: Bro, I’m bending on the album a little! On the next one, I think you will! I’ve flirted with the idea of doing a blues album—which sounds funny to say—but I would put a twist on it. It’s kind of a novelty to me, but the constraint is fun to work with and to see where I can get creative within that box is an interesting idea.
Can you tell us about your relationship as co-guitarists?
Abasi: Javier is perfect for so many reasons. Foundationally, he’s not very ego-driven and does a lot of production, so he doesn’t feel like he has to be the one doing the flashy guitar part to something that might be already written. He understands the greater picture and doesn’t arbitrarily insert himself, and that’s huge, because guitar players and big egos are synonymous. Javier is really good at filling in the gaps, so wherever I stop having musical ideas, he takes off right from there. We have a lot of songs where Javier wrote the main melody or there’s a complementary guitar part to what I’ve written and he’s seamlessly able to do both. As far as his actual skill set as a player, he works a lot with the unique offshoot of classical guitar he’s developed, so he’s good at doing chordal melodies and harmonies, and his brain is situated there. When you want more harmony added to a part or you need a melody, Javier’s skill set works well at filling in those blanks. He’s got a unique voice. And we’re really good friends. I’ve known Javier for close to 20 years of touring with him and writing music with him, and he’s kind of like the band dad.
Reyes: Tosin definitely thinks outside the box, as do I, but my natural tendency is to focus on making interesting music—not necessarily the most innovative guitar part. Tosin throws a lot of random techniques my way that I’m not afraid of learning and that aren’t necessarily things I would practice on my own, but I’ve learned some of the hardest things I know how to play for the sake of playing in this band. Even before Animals—when we were just homies back in the day—we definitely inspired each other in a lot of ways. I’ve always been able to write stuff that complements his stuff, and vice versa. If Tosin’s doing a crazy technique, I know how to write around that and add a simpler technique on top of it. I think we have a pretty harmonious guitar relationship. We feed off each other and I would say a lot of the fingerpicking stuff that Tosin’s done throughout the years comes from being exposed to the classical stuff that I do. And I definitely wouldn’t be thumping on guitar if I hadn’t played in Animals as Leaders.
I understand you guys did a complete mix of the album with plug-ins, scrapped it, and re-did the mix with real tube amps. Why did the tube amps win out?
Abasi: We’ve used modelers for over a decade and were using them exclusively at one point. These things have become indiscernible from their real tube counterparts. On this record, we were getting plug-in tones that we were happy with, but we had a loud room with some cool amps, so just for shits and giggles we reamped some things to see if the quality of the tone was different, and we found that particularly in the low-mids and the lower frequencies there was just a different character to a mic on a loud cab. We objectively decided that we were getting more life out of the recorded tones and we were happier with the behavior in the low end. So, we ended up re-tracking everything, and we would compare each section we re-amped to the printed plug-in preset tone we had, and we were always happier with the recorded re-amped version. We were being very objective, and we did A/B them.
“I still don’t know which is better in general, but after doing the entire album with amps, there’s definitely a thing to real amps that I think all of the digital companies still haven’t been able to replicate.”
—Javier Reyes
Reyes: Ninety-five percent of the guitar tones on there are real amps. This was the first time that we did that. On previous albums, everything’s always been Axe-Fx. We did have a whole mix of the album where all the tones were Neural DSP plug-ins and Axe-Fx, but for some reason we were like, “Yo, let’s just try real amps” and we got results that we were happy with. We were like “Right, we'll do the whole album again!” It was just a matter of thinking about what the songs needed. The plug-ins didn’t sound bad, but we were getting some really good results out of the real amps, and we were like, “Why fight it? Let’s just keep using that.”
Parrhesia is distinctly more aggressive than its predecessor. Would you say the lack of body in plug-ins made them inferior to the real amps for the heavier guitar parts?
Abasi: The material was written before the recording session, and we somehow just defaulted into writing a heavier album. But yeah, I think our preference for the miked amps was because the tones we wanted were heavier, and the key is in the low-end compression of these distorted tones. The real amp hitting the diaphragm of a microphone just captures a bit more energy. Maybe it’s the perception of volume? But using real amps and the fact that the record was heavier worked hand-in-hand. We found that the amp and mic situation conveyed a bit more of that energy.
Reyes: In my opinion, yes and no. I think it has a lot to do with who’s running the recording session and who’s miking the amps up. When we did The Joy of Motion, we were at this million-dollar studio with Friedmans, Marshalls, and everything you could possibly want. But in the control room, it felt no different than the Axe-Fx because there’s 50 feet of cables and the cabs are in the other room, and the mic positions are a variable. For this album, we were using a different recording engineer and his techniques for miking the cab were 100 percent different, in a much less expensive studio, but the results were substantially better and it felt different than the plug-ins and modelers. I still don’t know which is better in general, but after doing the entire album with amps, there’s definitely a thing to real amps that I think all of the digital companies still haven’t been able to replicate.
At New York City’s Webster Hall, Javier Reyes cuts loose on his ESP Custom 8-String S-type.
Photo by Joe Russo
The aggression on this album is kind of just a natural progression, but also deliberate. When I listen to metal these days, it’s pretty aggro metal, and we spoke about making this album more aggressive than the last. Considering how experimental The Madness of Many was, we had the feeling that most people were expecting a more experimental album after releasing songs like “Arithmophobia” or “The Brain Dance” or “Transcentience”— which were all pretty fusion-y. I wanted to bring it back to some real heavy shit to not let people forget. It’s like “Don’t get it twisted, ya’ll. We can still hang!”
Misha Mansoor co-wrote and co-produced several tracks on the new album. What did having him back in the fold bring to the process?
Abasi: Misha seamlessly integrates into what we’re doing. I did the first album with him before I had a band and I find that as a producer there’s not a single riff that I write that Misha doesn’t instantly comprehend. He’s got a great musical mind, especially for rhythm, but for harmony, too. I think Misha undersells himself there, and I’ve been impressed many times with his chord voicings and chord progressions. As a producer, he’s very quick and that’s super valuable because you’re unimpeded in your songwriting when he’s building a track. This is the third body of work of ours that Misha’s been heavily involved in, so our process is well-defined, and he’s a friend. Sometimes if you get a producer and you don’t know them personally, you might feel nervous throwing an idea out or voicing an opinion. I don’t know if people always consider the human relationship element of the creative process, but it’s super important to just vibe with the person you’re working with.
Tosin Abasi and Javier Reyes’ Gear (shared for 'Parrhesia')
After mixing Parrhesia, Tosin Abasi and Javier Reyes opted to return to the board and reamp all the guitar sounds generated by plug-ins with a few muscular tube amps, then mix again.
Guitars
- Abasi Concepts Larada Master Series
- Abasi Concepts Space T
- ESP JR-7 Custom
- ESP Custom 8-String S-type
- ESP LTD SN-1000
Amps
- Morgan SW50R
- Friedman Buxom Betty
- Mesa/Boogie Dual Rectifier
- Custom 4x12 cabinet with two Celestion Greenbacks and two Vintage 30s
Effects
- Friedman BE-OD
- Bogner Harlow
- Eventide H9
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario NYXL .0095 sets (Abasi)
- D’Addario NYXL .009–.042 sets with a .056 and .074 for the 7th and 8th strings (Reyes)
- Dunlop Primetone 1.4 mm Sculpted Plectra Jazz III (Abasi)
- Dunlop .73 mm (Reyes)
How do you approach reconciling technicality and playing things that are fun and demonstrative while making emotionally moving statements?
Abasi: Essentially, to reconcile them you have to feel that whatever you’ve just written with whatever snazzy technique is grounded in some sort of compelling rhythm or harmony, and ideally both. A good smell test would be if you played it for someone who didn’t play guitar. Would they be struck, or would they feel anything? If you couldn’t see it being performed, is it still valuable, because a lot of this is like, “Oh! That’s how you’re making those sounds?”
As guitar players, we’re always listening to the audio and wondering where on the neck is this note being played or is he picking all those notes? There’s all this reverse engineering to what we’re hearing. For me, technique is a vehicle to create sounds that are sometimes a novelty, but not used just because they’re a novelty. There can be a stimulating effect to hearing a guitar do something that you haven’t readily heard before. It activates part of the listening mind. I’m pretty obsessed with new sounds and that’s why I try to coax them out of my guitar via new techniques.
Using harmony is a good way to imbue emotional triggers inside of music because irrespective if you’re slapping or sweep picking or whatever, the combination of intervals in the melodic phrases you’re playing is what’s gonna evoke a sense of emotion in a listener. That’s where I try to marry my technique with something that is evocative, and hopefully I find something that pulls at you in some emotional way.
Reyes: We like writing deliberately complicated music, but what we end up writing naturally tends to be complicated anyways. Even with my solo stuff, Mestis, which is a lot less heady than Animals’ stuff—it’s still very difficult to play. There has to be some feel, but there is also some “how are we gonna figure this idea out?” And there is also the very deliberate “let’s make this part nuts!”
We prioritize the song and the tone over needing to use our signature software and signature guitars.” —Javier Reyes
Certain things I hear on this album remind me of a West African kora or a synthesizer, like the guitar hook on “The Problem of Other Minds” that traces that synth line. Where do you find inspiration for new sounds?
Abasi: That is a great observation because the kora is a super cool-sounding instrument. There’s a guitarist named Lionel Loueke, from Benin, and he puts paper underneath the strings of his guitar near the bridge to create this unique, muted thing that sounds a little like a thumb piano. I started to get into this heavily arpeggiated but clean and muted timbre that’s almost like a kora or a thumb piano or a harp. And the synth thing is huge for me, because I really love electronic music and I really like that arpeggiated cycling through all the intervals in a chord like a step-sequenced synth.
Guitar players normally achieve that through sweep picking, but I wanted a different sound where it didn’t sound like you played it with a pick and there wasn’t this uniformity between pick strokes. It sounded like a note-on/note-off sort of thing. So, I started working on this left-hand-dependent sort of staccato arpeggiating stuff that really harkens to a step-sequencer. So yeah, you nailed it. Those are sources where I’m hearing notes fly by and it’s not just some shredder on guitar playing them, but it’s activating the part of my brain that wants to incorporate that sound. The funny thing about “The Problem of Other Minds” is it was written on guitar first and then we wrote the MIDI for the synth, but I really like this blurring of the line where maybe it hits the listener in a way where they think the synth part was written first and that the guitars are emulating the synth.
“Micro-Aggressions” is an absolutely barnstorming guitar anthem. Can you walk us a bit through the writing of that one?
Reyes: It was Tosin’s riff, and it was like, “Here’s this riff, no holding back. Let’s just go in!” No one had any arguments about it!
Abasi: “Micro-Aggressions” is a magnum opus to the selective-picking technique I’ve been obsessing over, where you pick intermittently while your left hand does hammer-ons and produces quite a lot of notes. Your picking hand interjects here and there, and it’s this weird decoupling of your left and right hands. The phrases are composed by integrating the left and right hands, but they’re performing independent roles. What I wanted to do was make something that almost seemed like a classical piece, so there’s a lot of even note values and a lot of the harmony is natural minor, melodic minor, and harmonic minor. I just wanted a high-BPM blistering thing, but forcing myself to use selective picking throughout the entirety of the tune. That song is very demanding.
Note that thumb. It’s part of Tosin Abasi’s highly original thumping approach (inspired by Regi and Victor Wooten) that blends an old-school funk move with classic fingerpicking.
Photo by Steve Kalinsky
You’ve both got a lot of signature gear now between plug-ins, Fishman pickups, the Abasi Concepts guitars, and Javier’s signature ESP guitars. How does tone, design, and fashion intersect for you guys?
Abasi: It’s hard to disaggregate it all for me, because when it comes to something like the Larada—the guitar I designed and play—it is a synergy of aesthetic and function. Part of the shape of that guitar is informed by wanting to make an impact with aesthetics, but it also all serves a functional role—whether it’s ergonomics or how thin the guitar is or how light the guitar is or where that center point is when you’re in a seated position and how far out do your arms have to go to navigate the whole neck from one extreme to the other. I wanted to do something for players who wanted to make a statement with their instrument. I wanted to make a guitar that felt like the person playing it had an aesthetic contribution to their playing that represented something about them—whether it’s that they’re forward-thinking or they need a very precision-focused modern instrument.
Reyes: Having the signature gear is amazing and we try to use our own products as much as possible, but when in the studio I like to think as a producer. It’s about what’s going to give you the best tone for the part. We prioritize the song and the tone over needing to use our signature software and signature guitars. There are a couple parts on the record where Tosin was using my guitar for his solo and vice versa. The outcome of the song is more important than each of us getting our guitars in the song.
Can you tell me about the guitars, amps, and effects that really shaped the sound of the album?
Abasi: I used my Abasi Concepts Larada for virtually all of the record. We make a Tele-style guitar that I used for “The Problem of Other Minds,” where there’s a solo that I wanted a mid-gain, single-coil sound for. My Fishman pickups are voiced to reach into the higher frequencies a bit further than a traditional passive humbucker. You can get this crystalline clean that also translates into the split-coil sounds. I wanted something that almost sounded like a Tele on crack, because a lot of the slap and tapping stuff is really complemented by a single-coil characteristic. So a lot of the slap and selective picking and all the thumping parts are almost just the result of position 2 on my guitar, which sounds almost like the guitar has a preamp in it.
The Friedman BE-OD pedal into a Morgan SW50R was my main sound. The Morgan is just a great-sounding, single-channel pedal platform. It’s almost like if you were to take the preamp section from a high-gain head, but the power section and the headroom of a clean amp with no breakup. I feel like it has a slightly different character than if I was to play through a high-gain head on its own. It’s central to my sound, at this point.
“For me, technique is a vehicle to create sounds that are sometimes a novelty, but not used just because they’re a novelty.” —Tosin Abasi
I also use this almost boost-style compressor by Bogner called the Harlow, which was a collaboration between Reinhold Bogner and Rupert Neve. Instead of working like a discrete studio compressor that’s smooth and clamps down on the peaks of your notes, this feels like it almost expands the transients. It makes the notes pop in a way that’s really un-compressor-like. In some ways, it’s almost like when you start to crank the master volume on an amp and there’s more thud and more transients just because the whole power section’s working harder. Anytime you’re hearing something percussive or staccato, that pedal is in the loop.
Reyes: The bulk of the rhythm tones—especially slap tones—are a Morgan SW50R clean amp with a Friedman BE-OD pedal going through it. There was a Friedman Buxom Betty used. We used a Mesa/Boogie Dual Rec for some cleans. The main cab was a custom 4x12 with Celestion V30s and Greenbacks. All the rhythm stuff is Tosin’s Larada guitar, and all the melodies and solos are a variety of my guitars. I have an LTD SN-1000, my custom ESP JR-7 signature 7-string, my signature ESP S-type. The Bogner Harlow pedal—as you compress, it also adds a bit of gain and it kind of compresses in a different way than the normal compressor. It’s a very cool pedal and a one-trick pony, but it’s a very cool trick. And “Red Miso” is all Eventide H9.
The closest thing to your thumping technique I’ve ever heard is when Prince would slap on a guitar. Can you tell me a little bit about how that technique developed into a signature?
Abasi: I was in a band called Reflux back in the day, and our bass player, Evan Brewer, was shredding the thumping thing in like 2002/2003. I had not ever seen the technique before and he was like, “Yeah, this is something Regi Wooten and Victor Wooten do.” And not only thumping, but all sorts of innovative melodic tapping. I was just, like, “Dude, this is crazy!” and I forced him to show it to me. But I have to credit Regi and Victor Wooten—as far I know—as the people who innovated the double-stroke thumb thing going up and down, as opposed to the traditional single-note slap bass thing everyone knows. Regi Wooten is on some no barriers, no limits kind of stuff.
The density of notes you can produce efficiently with thumping is awesome, and I just had an immediate connection with it. Especially with the extended range, because it lends itself physically and sonically to bass techniques. I just knew that the difference or the contribution I wanted to make beyond what I’d heard from Victor and Regi was odd meter and heavy stuff. A lot of its appropriate application is in groovy, funky music, and I was able to see that technique being the foundation for some stuff that has nothing to do with funk.
"Monomyth" Playthrough!
With the release of his latest solo EP, Vertiginous Canyons, the former Police guitarist shares in-depth on his personal journey from Romani caravan to becoming a peer of Eric Clapton’s to shaping a modern dialect of jazz-rock innovation.
This past June, onstage at a handsomely restored vaudeville theater in Washington, D.C., the guitarist and composer Andy Summers made a small but spirited crowd laugh. Hard.
Summers, who rose to fame in the late 1970s as one third of the new-wave phenomenon the Police, told many stories and landed many punchlines. There was the episode in which he and John Belushi partook of psychedelics in Bali, and the time he got kind of hustled by a striking, guitar-playing Long Neck Karen villager in Thailand. He recounted a gut-busting tale of taking a few too many sleeping pills on a trip to South America. With perfectly British dryness and timing, he improvised an aside about living near Arnold Schwarzenegger in Los Angeles, and how he just had to kick the Terminator’s ass.
Out of the Shadows
“I think it’s turning into a standup routine, basically,” Summers said recently over Zoom. He was being self-effacing. Mostly, this one-man multimedia show, entitled “The Cracked Lens + A Missing String,” allows Summers to reflect on enduring passions with sincerity, by “integrating these two media I’ve been working on for so long”: music, of course, and art photography, where his work combines painterly composition with street-level intimacy and the global-citizen mission of Nat Geo.
Behind projections of his photos, and between the storytelling and odd video clip, he gave a two-hour recital of solo guitar music. Summers played a new yellow Powers Electric A-Type guitar, and began his show by telling his audience how thrilled he was with it. (Summers has accrued around 200 guitars, many of them given to him, and maintains that he’s “definitely a player,” not a collector.)
Summers spent a significant part of his 20s studying classical music, originally inspired by Julian Bream. Now, onstage in his one-man show, it's clearly time to reflect on his past.
Summers began touring “The Cracked Lens” before the pandemic—the final show prior to shutdown took place at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, in 2019—and picked it up last year. It’s evolved, he says, through improvisation and trial and error, following a process much like one he’d put into motion for any band or project.
In D.C., the setlist was both surprising and deeply satisfying. Newer solo music like “Metal Dog” came off as delightfully arch and abstract, a reminder that Summers hit the Billboard albums chart with Robert Fripp, with 1982’s I Advance Masked. A sterling chord-melody arrangement of Thelonious Monk’s “’Round Midnight” spoke to the lifelong impact American jazz has had on the guitarist. A winsome mini-set of bossa nova, including “Manhã de Carnaval,” Luiz Bonfá’s theme to the film Black Orpheus, illustrated Summers’ devotion to both the cinema and the music of Brazil.
And yes, there was Police material, too, which Summers reharmonized and rearranged and used as vessels for longform improvisation. Atop programmed backing tracks, he treated songs like “Tea in the Sahara,” “Roxanne,” “Spirits in the Material World,” and “Message in a Bottle” as if they were his beloved jazz standards, drawing agile lines in and around the harmony, using pop hits as a launch pad for wending single-note narratives. In a small theater, it felt as if you were eavesdropping on Summers, whiling away an afternoon in his home studio. An excitable woman behind me couldn’t help but try and banter with him as he stalked the stage; the guy to my right played air drums. This was thrilling—especially if you were a Police fan whose context for these songs was sold-out arenas.
A New Installment
To combine music and imagery was also the impetus for Vertiginous Canyons, Summers’ recent solo EP. Commissioned as an accent to the guitarist’s fifth photo book, A Series of Glances, the project features eight spontaneously composed instrumental pieces of pop-song length. Its sparkling, layered, and looped soundscapes serve as Zen-like mood music for viewing the photographs. By design, Summers improvised Vertiginous Canyons in a single afternoon without too much fuss, using mostly his early ’60s Strat. “This was drone-like, ambient, atmosphere stuff that I thought was enough,” Summers explains. “Because I suppose you could get into a place, let’s say, where the photography and the music are fighting each other.
“One of the cardinal rules of scoring films, which I’ve done many,” he adds, “is don’t get in the way of the movie.”
On Vertiginous Canyons, listeners will hear influences from Eno to Hendrix to Bill Frisell.
As with Summers’ solo show, the music can stand alone. In many ways, Vertiginous Canyons also comes off like Eno or classical minimalism or the edgiest strain of what can be called “new age”—an engaging yet accessible entryway to experimental music. And as with any effective musical abstraction, what you’ve heard in your life is what you’ll hear in Vertiginous Canyons. The twinkling, fluttering phrases of “Blossom” bring to mind Bill Frisell. “Translucent” and “Village” summon up Glenn Branca’s guitar armies in their quietest moments, ramping up toward euphoria. “Blur” is a far-out exercise in Hendrix-style backwards soloing; “Into the Blue” is Pink Floyd meets Popol Vuh.
Greatly moved by Julian Bream as a young man, Summers spent a sizable chunk of his 20s immersed in classical guitar in California, as hard rock and the singer-songwriters ascended. When I ask him if those studies informed Vertiginous Canyons, his response is rapid-fire. “Definitely. I mean, I spent years doing nothing but classical music, classical guitar,” he says. “It’s very important information that I took in … and it stayed with me the rest of my life.
“So my ears are wide open.... I’m a sophisticated harmonic player, and it’s also informed by classical music. I’m sort of all-’round educated in the ways you can do music.”
Summer Reflections
To let an artist’s age guide your judgment of them is unfair. But in Summers’ case, it’s essential to understanding how and why he became such a fascinating guitarist, one whose whip-smart, cross-cultural approach overhauled the prevailing notion of what rock-guitar heroics could be in the late 1970s and early ’80s.
He was born on the last day of 1942, “a kid from the English countryside,” he says. His father was in the Royal Air Force; his mother supported the war effort working in a bomb factory. Alongside Django Reinhardt, he’s on the short list of guitar idols who spent their earliest days in a Romani caravan, which his father bought in the face of a housing shortage. In terms of rock generations, think about it: Jimi Hendrix was born in November of ’42, Keith Richards in ’43, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page in ’44, Pete Townshend and Eric Clapton in ’45. Summers debuted the cinematic, reggae-soaked sound that made him famous on the Police’s Outlandos d’Amour, in 1978, as the punk explosion gave way to post-punk and new wave. But his contemporaries are the British bluesmen who were architects of the psychedelic era and won over the baby boomers.
Andy Summers' Gear
When Summers, pictured here performing with the Police in 1982, began developing his blues chops, he blended in complex chords and jazz phrasing.
Photo by Frank White
Guitars
For touring:
- Fender Custom Shop Stratocaster
- Powers Electric A-Type
Amps
- Fender Twin with Fender Special Design Speakers
- Fractal Axe-Fx III
- Bob Bradshaw 100-watt head
- Roland JC-120
- Various Mesa/Boogie heads, cabinets and power amps
Effects
Current Pedaltrain pedalboard includes these effects, among many others:
- TC Electronic SCF Gold
- Electro-Harmonix Micro POG
- DigiTech Whammy
- Klon Centaur
- TC Electronic Brainwaves
- MXR Carbon Copy
- Electro-Harmonix Freeze
- Paul Trombetta Design Rotobone
- TC Electronic Dark Matter
- Mad Professor Golden Cello
Picks & Strings
- Dunlop Andy Summers Custom 2.0 mm Picks
- D’Addario Strings, mostly .010–.046
The electric-blues revivalism that his peers favored was a scene with which Summers engaged mostly by circumstance. In some capacity he was immersed in it, gigging and recording with hot R&B acts of Swinging Sixties London. But as a developing guitarist, he also transcended its stylistic boundaries, and he ultimately missed out on the wildly lucrative parts of it, after it’d evolved from nightclub entertainment to chart-topping, festival-headlining pop.
“[We’re talking about] real modern electric-guitar history,” Summers says, “because I was really pretty close with Clapton. We all knew each other. There were about five or six of us, and we all played at one club [the Flamingo, in London].
“I watched Eric develop, and he had this mission to play the blues … and he ripped off some great blues solos,” Summers adds, with a mischievous chuckle. “I had grown up with different kinds of music in those formative [teenage] years, when you’re taking it all in and trying to be able to do it.”
So much has been written about how the ’60s British-guitar titans tapped into early rock ’n’ roll influences and Chicago blues, rescuing the latter from obscurity in its country of origin. But it’s important to remember the profound impact that midcentury modern jazz had on culturally curious young Brits; in fact, the moniker “mods”—that clothes-obsessed cult that gave us the Who—began as “modernists,” as in devotees of modern jazz, R&B, soul, and ska.
Before meeting Sting (left) and forming the Police, Andy Summers (right) was close friends with Eric Clapton and once jammed with Jimi Hendrix.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
Summers was hooked. Guitarists Wes Montgomery, Jimmy Raney, Kenny Burrell and Grant Green ranked among his favorites, alongside Sonny Rollins. Rather than sticking to 12-bar patterns, Summers shedded on complex chord sequences and jazz phrasing, logging “thousands of hours of listening, trying to get it. But that’s where the feel of the time comes from, which is the most important element.”
“Eric and I talked about it,” he continues, “and I was in a different place. I don’t think we really had arguments about it, but he was absolutely a disciple of the blues, where I was more into other things.” Summers loved the fleet, chromatic lines of bop, and classical guitar, and African and Indian music. He recalls transcribing Ravi Shankar.
“So I felt like I very much had my own path, and it wasn’t the Eric Clapton path. I was aware of all that, but Eric was deeply into B.B. King — gave me his B.B. King record, actually—Live at the Regal, told me to check it out. So I did listen to it, and yeah, okay, I get it. But my head was elsewhere.” (During that period, Summers also sold Clapton a ’58 Les Paul, after Slowhand’s 1960 model was stolen. “It was guitar craziness,” Summers says. “I really anguished over selling my Les Paul, but I just wasn’t into it. I think there was something wrong with the pickup—at least I thought there was, in my sort of naivety at that time.”)
Nor was Summers’ path the Hendrix path. Because of his friendship with the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s drummer Mitch Mitchell, Summers once jammed in the late ’60s with Jimi. “A quiet guy with a very loud guitar. And he could play the shit out of the guitar,” Summers laughs. “He was definitely sort of a force of nature. You’d feel it.” At an L.A. studio where the Jimi Hendrix Experience was in session, Summers began playing with Mitchell on a break. But “Jimi just couldn’t stay away from the music,” Summers recalls. So Hendrix picked up a bass to anchor Summers’ guitar, until Jimi asked to trade.
“I think of it almost as a sort of a comic moment,” Summers reflects today. “Jimi had come into the scene and … didn’t really play like anyone else. I mean, he played Jimi Hendrix … incredible, but I didn’t really want to play like that. I’ve got to find my own thing. It was very imperative to me not to be yet another Hendrix copier. And I think it’s what he would have appreciated, too.”
Although the first album by the Police was released in late 1978, Summers already had an extensive catalog of recordings with Eric Burdon, Kevin Ayers, Kevin Coyne, Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band, and Joan Armatrading before “Roxanne” alerted the world that a new kind of pop group was arriving.
To hear Summers on pre-Police recordings is intriguing; even on straightforward forms, his good taste and sense of harmony present a shrewd, knowing alternative to his peers. Seek out the 1965 LP It Should’ve Been Me, by Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band: On a take of Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City,” Summers applies the single-note harmonic finesse of Grant Green to barroom British R&B. (It was Green’s Gibson ES-330, a surprising instrument for a jazz picker at the time, that inspired Summers to pick up an ES-335 after his ES-175 was stolen.) A few years later, as part of Eric Burdon’s New Animals, Summers covered Traffic’s “Coloured Rain,” going long on a fuzztone solo that fits the psychedelic bill while also telling a story with precision and patience.
Summers’ ship came in nearly a decade later, after he’d returned to England from California and met drummer Stewart Copeland and a singer and bass player, Gordon Sumner, who went by “Sting.” They were bright, dexterous, and culturally well-versed, with backgrounds in prog and jazz. “I think we had a credo,” Summers says, “and it was spoken out loud: We don’t want to sound like anybody else.
“I found I could talk to Sting and say, ‘I want to play this kind of altered chord here. What do you think?’ He could sing right through anything. He had the ears to be able to sing it like a jazz singer. Not that we were trying to lay ‘We’re really jazzers’ on the public. We were trying to present ourselves as a rock band with songs. But the information that we were putting into those rock-song arrangements was different.”
Summers in a late ’80s promo photo, near the start of his solo-recording career.
For Summers, that meant matching the musicianship he’d started earning as a teenager on jazz bandstands with the au courant sounds of post-punk and reggae, filtered through emergent sonic technology. With his heavily modded 1961 Tele and custom Pete Cornish pedalboard, he offered chord sequences and lines that have challenged and educated generations of practicing guitarists brought up on blues-rock technique. Alongside his deft use of open space, he was that rarest rock guitarist who paid serious mind to chord voicings. “My job was to turn the chords into something more unusual,” Summers says, “to have more unusual guitar parts. For instance, something like ‘Walking on the Moon,’ I put in a Dm11 chord, with reverb and a beautiful chorus sound. So it’s got the 11th on top, and immediately it grasps your ear. It’s like the signature of the song was that chord.”
“So my ears are wide open.... I’m a sophisticated harmonic player, and it’s also informed by classical music. I’m sort of all-’round educated in the ways you can do music.”
Of course, no other Summers guitar part or Police song made bigger waves than 1983’s “Every Breath You Take.” Influenced by Bartók’s “44 Duos for Two Violins,” Summers crafted a repeating figure that underlined Sting’s standard pop-song structure while avoiding conventional triadic harmony. (Losing the third from tired rock chords was Summers’ not-so-secret weapon.) “It gave it that haunting quality that made the whole track come to life,” Summers says, “because otherwise, I think we would have dumped the song. It wasn’t one of our favorites at all.”
The Police last performed on their historic reunion tour of 2007 to ’08, and their relationship today is mostly business. “We’re not hanging out with each other,” Summers says. “We’re all in touch through headquarters.” One thing they’ve had to agree on this year is a Super Deluxe reissue, toasting the 40th anniversary of the Synchronicity album, which provides new context that might safely be called revelatory. Among the new box set’s many previously unreleased goodies is Sting’s original demo for “Every Breath You Take,” weighed down with synth keyboards that pile on the sentimentality and pin the track squarely to the 1980s. (Unlike so much ’80s pop-rock, the Police’s music has aged well.) “You can see the transformation,” says Summers.
“Every Breath You Take” became a global smash that ranks among pop’s most successful songs, a feather in the cap of the band that owned the late ’70s and ’80s. Consider this: At a time when his psych-era peers were considered middle-aged Flower Power relics, Summers was leaping around onstage like a bleached-blond atom and representing pop rock’s bleeding edge on MTV. Now, at 81, he’s found a way to forge ahead and, in some fashion, improve on the past.
Call The Police (Andy Summers / João Barone / Rodrigo Santos) - Synchronicity II (ensaio/rehearsal)
With bandmates João Barone and Rodrigo Santos, of Police tribute band Call the Police, Summers displays the adept riffage that brought him to the big stages and helped solidify his rock legacy.
Leveling Up
When we connect on a followup call in mid July, Summers is in Brazil, about to embark on a South American tour with his trio, Call the Police. This tribute project of a sort features two celebrated Brazilian rockers, bassist-vocalist Rodrigo Santos and drummer João Barone, and plays hits-filled live sets to packed houses. “It’s sort of enhanced, because it gets looser. It’s a bit uptight with those other guys I play with,” says Summers.
With regard to those other guys, that uptightness had much to do with the punk and new-wave era that bore the Police. The relationship between punk and the band was complicated. Somehow, they managed to use the movement’s greatest lessons—in energy, creative bravery, and concise songcraft—without pandering to its musical primitivism. Summers’ reputation amongst guitarists rested in the minimalist intelligence of his decision-making; you kind of understood he could play anything, but he was mature enough not to. “I didn’t feel the need to crush everybody with every guitar part,” he says.
“It was more like a guitar solo is supposed to be a mark of the old guard. You weren’t supposed to be able to play; it was really that dumb.”
Nevertheless, he believes that punk’s principle of non-musicianship kept him from exploring the songs to their fullest. “I think I should have played more solos than I was given the space to do,” he says. “It pisses me off actually, because this came more from Stewart. When we started the band in the thick of the hardcore-punk scene, it was more like a guitar solo is supposed to be a mark of the old guard. You weren’t supposed to be able to play; it was really that dumb.”
“I was a virtuoso player,” he adds, “so it was very frustrating for me. Later, when we did sort of open it up, it really got more exciting. The fact that I could play as well as I did, I found it was a bit threatening. Because the highlight in a performance of a song … would be the guitar solo.”
As in “The Cracked Lens + A Missing String,” Summers can stretch out in Call the Police to his heart’s content. At long last. “It’s very improvised,” he says, “and they’re up to the level where they can do that. They go with me. It’s how it should always have been.”
The Warg is a modern revamp of the Ace Tone “Fuzz Master” FM-3, designed to offer uniquely aggressive high-gain options.
"Despite its feral exterior, the Warg is refined under the hood, with several quality-of-life improvements, like silent soft true-bypass switching, top-mounted jacks, high-end German-made hardware and premium internal components."
Features:
- EQ profile switch toggling between the scooped wall of fuzz tones of the original circuit, and a flat profile with a fuller and punchier midrange
- Versatile tone control and broad gain range allows for anything from chunky riffage to searing leads
- Silent soft touch switching system via an internal relay
- Art by the talented Jordan from Pine-Box Customs
Like all Evil Eye FX pedals, the Warg features a lifetime warranty and is hand-built one-at-a-time in Philadelphia, PA.
Street price of $149.
Available now at www.evileyefx.com, or through any of our fine retailers.
Evil Eye FX is a joint venture from childhood friends and bandmates Sean and Ben, building their brand around their love of DnD and other tabletop RPGs, video games and fantasy. In 2019, the pair began modding BOSS pedals to meet the needs of their band, and quickly fell in love with the craft. In 2023, they founded Evil Eye FX with the vision of providing unique handmade pedals at working musician-accessible prices.
Check out Jackson Brooksby’s look at the history of the FM-3 and demo of the Warg.
Orianthi joins forces with Orange Amplification for her signature combo, the Oriverb, based on the classic Rockerverb MKIII 50 NEO Combo.
"Seeing this whole amp come to life has been a dream come true," said Orianthi, "it’s a beautiful amp and it really reflects my eccentric personality!"
The platinum-selling virtuoso guitarist has gained a reputation as a multi-faceted artist, singer, songwriter and first-call collaborator. With roots planted firmly in hard rock, her latest single "First Time Blues" featuring Joe Bonamassa and "Ghost" are a combination of blues-based riffs and memorable melodies. She is currently on tour in the USA and working on a new album to be announced soon.
The Oriverb, inspired by the Rockerverb 50 MKIII Combo Neo, is voiced to embody Orianthi’s unique sound. It has a cleaner mid-range warmth that reflects her classic blues and rock tone, whilst retaining all of its desired variable distortion.. A tweaked EQ gives the Oriverb creamy, sparkly cleans and saturated screaming overdrives.
Fitted with a pair of lightweight, British-made Celestion Neo Creamback speakers and EL34 valves, the Oriverb has that definitive British flavour with incredibly versatile tone shaping abilities. The new combo also boasts a much-loved footswitchable spring reverb, built-in attenuator for maxed out textures at neighbour-friendly volumes, switchable power options and a near-transparent, valve-driven effects loop. The cabinet is crafted using the highest quality 15mm Baltic birch plywood, making it one of the lightest 2 x 12” speaker cabinets on the market and is finished in an embossed white Tolex, selected by Orianthi.
"We created this to be something very special, unique, something that when people plug into it, whatever guitar they are gonna use through this, it is going to amplify their personality," explained Orianthi, "being able to bring something to life that I feel a lot of people are really going to enjoy has been a real honour. I am so proud of this amp and I can’t wait for people to check it out."
To find out more about the new Oriverb, plus all the other Orange Amplification
products, please go to orangeamps.com.
A scalpel for carving out huge but controlled reverb spaces.
Makes huge reverb blooms possible in tight spaces. Adds ghostly character to metal, shoegaze, psychedelic, and pop riffs and hooks. Fun tool for tightening arrangements.
Controls can feel elusive in early experimentation.
$199
Catalinbread CBX Gated Reverb
catalinbread.com
For music fans of a certain age, gated reverb can conjure conflicted, even hostile, feelings. Though there are myriad uses, in the 1980s it was employed to drive snare drums to migraine-inducing levels in mixes. But as the Catalinbread CBX proves, gated reverb needn’t be an ice pick or bludgeon. In fact, the CBX works best as a scalpel of sorts—enabling the player to fit big reverb sounds in very confined and specific musical spaces.
The basic reverb voice of the CBX is plate-like—spectral, blooming, and vaporous. It’s a nice fit for the CBX’s functionality and makes surreal juxtapositions of big reverb and tight spaces even more striking. At first, CBX’s control set can feel elusive. But that’s the key to its surgical tunability. The lag control enables cool swelling effects, which can, in turn, be more dramatic with saturation from the preamp control and advanced mix settings—which then can be clipped and tightened by the gate. The musical possibilities made by these combinations are endless. High-gain, palm-muted, machine-gun riffing can be made extra ghostly and huge when the CBX is placed after distortion. And aspiring Kevin Shields-types looking to twist My Bloody Valentine templates can use spacious, gated sounds to lend clarity to melody and pitch-shifted overtones when the CBX is situated before overdrive or fuzz. But even mainstream producers and players seeking punch in arrangements will find many paths forward via this unusual stompbox