Laboring under the radar for 40 years and afflicted by Parkinson's, the improvising guitarist is riding a wave of new and reissue recordings that may finally bring his blues-, jazz-, and Rothko-inspired music to more listeners.
"Working with Loren is, in some ways, not really 'working with Loren.' It's more like you're entering a space that you both occupy—not a place for conversation or exchanging pleasantries," says experimental musician Jim O'Rourke, describing his longtime musical relationship with guitarist Loren Connors. "More so than anyone I have worked with, it is a place with its own logic, its own sense of time, and no road map." Anyone who has witnessed one of Connors' performances can understand what O'Rourke, who has partnered with Connors in duos and as an engineer, is talking about.
Oblique conversation about Connors' music is common because it's so hard to pin down. There are no real genres to refer to, no easy comparisons to be made, and those references that do exist only tell a small part of the story. Connors takes the raw elemental sounds of the guitar, from the most basic fundamentals of technique and harmony, and assembles them as no other player ever has to create his own world of sound.
This challenging approach has led Connors to spend his long and uncompromising career as an unsung, underground hero. Since the late 1970s, he has amassed an extensive discography of releases spread across mostly small boutique labels, though he's had occasional albums on bigger indies such as Drag City and Secretly Canadian. Connors prefers to perform solo, and his discography reflects that, but he's also a frequent collaborator—mostly in duos—with a long list of co-conspirators that includes Thurston Moore, Keiji Haino, and Bill Orcutt.
Connors always has a queue of projects in the works and, despite the pandemic, remains as prolific as ever. His current list of recently or soon-to-be released albums includes collaborations with Kim Gordon, Alan Licht, and Oren Ambarchi. Meanwhile, Feeding Tube Records has begun reissuing a nine-volume series of some of Connors' earliest and rarest releases.
"With Loren it's more that he opened up the feeling of blues guitar to a greater complexity."—Alan Licht
This bounty means there's never been a better time to be a fan of Loren Connors. Each of the new albums is a unique contribution to his body of work. And while the reissues offer an obviously insightful glimpse of his early beginnings as a rootsy and forward-thinking solo improvisor, his duo records are equally essential. Licht is one of Connors' longest-running collaborators, and on At the Top of the Stairs it can be hard to parse each musician's playing. Their guitars so well-acquainted that they seem to intersect into one slow and psychedelic sound source. Leone, meanwhile, offers a look at a first meeting between Ambarchi and Connors, where Ambarchi's computer-effected sounds are a contrast to Connors' more organic reverb and wah-soaked tone. Together, these two albums reveal Connors' focus and flexibility as a player in far-reaching musical situations.
Blues, Miles Davis, and Mark Rothko
While it may be easy to tie his music to the avant-garde, at his core Connors is a blues guitarist. Born in New Haven, Connecticut, in 1949, he began playing as a teenager. "I was about 15 or so. Everyone played guitar back then," Connors explains. His early influences were Cream and the Jimi Hendrix Experience, but Connors dug deeper and discovered country blues, claiming Robert Johnson as one of his main influences. "All the Mississippi Delta bluesmen from the 1920s and '30s had a big effect on me—Son House and Johnson, even Skip James."
In 1970, Connors found an inspiration that would resonate through his music for the entirety of his career, when an artist friend took him to a museum to see the work of abstract painter Mark Rothko. "It took off from there," he says. "Right away, I felt a similarity between his paintings and my improvisations on guitar."
Around the same time, Connors was listening to Miles Davis' electric music, and the guitarist found another deep inspiration in the minimal psychedelia of "He Loved Him Madly," the opening track to Davis' 1974 Get Up With It. "Miles' two solos on that, they only last for a couple minutes apiece, but they affect me a whole lot," Connors says.
While he surely pulls inspiration from other places, it seems as though these three ingredients—Delta blues, Rothko, and "He Loved Him Madly"—lie at the source of Connors' sound, allowing him to explore the guitar with a unique personal perspective. Avant guitarist Alan Licht has played with Connors in duos and other assemblages for nearly three decades and explains the importance of Connor's sonic amalgam: "He really does for blues guitar what Derek Bailey did for jazz guitar, in a way. Derek opened it up harmonically, but with Loren it's more that he opened up the feeling of blues guitar to a greater complexity, even if it remained mostly tonal and relatively simple harmonically."
In this 2001 concert at New York City's Tonic, Loren Conners improvises with trumpeter/composer Rob Mazurak and drummer Chad Taylor. Conners often uses his thumb to attack the strings.
Photo by Peter Gannushkin
Approaching Blues As Art
The first volume of Feeding Tube's series of Connors reissues, 1979's Unaccompanied Acoustic Guitar Improvisations Vol. 1, shows early evidence that he was already forging unique ground at this early stage of his career. Writer and longtime Connors supporter Byron Coley coordinated the reissue series, and interprets Connors' early music as approaching the blues from a new direction: "Loren's sound on these records feels to be based in blues tonalities, but is bent way out of shape and approached as art music rather than folk music, as blues is usually approached. He was definitely following his painterly inclinations, trying to pare down the elements he used to create something with a surface that initially appears to be opaque, but becomes more deeply emotional the more you hear it."
Connors, meanwhile, plays down any notion of heady artistic concepts in his early work. "I couldn't't read music. I kind of improvised everything," he says. "Very free and open, I didn't't think about it that much."
"The Daggett LPs put him in the company of artists like John Fahey, Harry Partch, Sun Ra, Eugene Chadbourne, and other avant-gardists who realized their music would only be documented if they did it themselves."—Byron Coley
While his music has many enthusiastic supporters nowadays, it wasn't always the case. "I was kind of on my own back then," he says. The nine volumes that make up the reissue series were originally pressed in extremely small numbers that Connors self-released on his Daggett label, to no avail. "They didn't't sell good at all. I gave 'em all away. I gave them to radio stations and DJs. I sold very few. Maybe like 10 or so. I threw a bunch of them in the dumpster, maybe 50 or 100 even, in the big boxes they came in."
Coley offers this insight: "The fact he scraped his own money together to put out that series of LPs, despite his financial straits and the knowledge he was working in an area of sound creation that had very little audience, is testament to the strength of his creative drive. The Daggett LPs put him in the company of artists like John Fahey, Harry Partch, Sun Ra, Eugene Chadbourne, and other avant-gardists who realized their music would only be documented if they did it themselves."
Loren Conners' Gear
Guitars
• Squier Mini Stratocaster
Amps
• Various Fenders and Voxes
Effects
• Boss AW-2 Auto Wah
• Boss RV-3 Digital Reverb/Delay
• Dunlop Cry Baby Wah
Strings
• Ernie Ball light-gauge sets
The Sound of Near-Silence
Connors' instrumental approach has changed considerably throughout his career, and he's focused on playing his Stratocaster since the mid-1980s, in search of a more subtle sound. "You can get real quiet on electric guitar, which you can't really do on acoustic guitar," he says. That has led him to develop an "extremely light" touch, in his own words. And he feels as though he reached a tipping point in the last 20 or so years, as he's steered his playing toward a more delicate approach to tone and a greater use of space, and discovered what he refers to as his "new style."
"What I did before—a way of playing, a style, and everything—all that stuff went out the window. Now I just kind of, almost, don't play anything anymore," he explains. While that may seem a little cryptic, it's quite fitting. "It's like almost not there, even. Very few notes and very distant sound and very quiet sound."
Connors was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease in the early 1990s but insists his playing choices have nothing to do with any physical limitations and that he's led purely by artistic decisions. "Parkinson's doesn't have anything to do with the way I sound now. I take pills to cover it all over. I play a little bit quieter now, I guess."
As O'Rourke sees it, Connors' sound is, however, tied to his overall physical approach to the instrument. "I think a big part of Loren's sound, besides, of course, it being him, is the way he holds the guitar, almost like he is cradling it—the way he extends his right hand supporting it with his thumb extended, suspended above the strings. If it could, his guitar would wrap itself into a ball."
Licht observes that Connors "is going to sound the same no matter what gear he's using." In the early days of their collaboration, the two guitarists would perform using the same Fender Princeton, maintaining distinct sounds and demonstrating that tone really is all in the fingers.
Connors takes a very practical approach to his gear. He has a few Stratocasters and these days prefers his Squier Mini Stratocaster, because of its light weight. He is happy to plug into any kind of Fender amp, though he also likes Voxes. While Connors' tone often seems quite effected, he gets all of his sounds using only a few pedals: a Dunlop Cry Baby Wah or Boss Auto Wah along with a Boss Digital Reverb/Delay.
Despite this austere approach, Connors is a playful collaborator whose duo improvisations reveal a lot about his personality. Eclectic guitarist Chris Forsyth shares this story from one of their first gigs together: "We're setting up and I say, 'Loren, what tuning are you using?' He mutters, 'standard.' But I can hear he's pitched way down. So I said, 'Play me an A?' And his A is like an E or something. Way down. But the strings were in standard-tuning relationships. Next time we played, at soundcheck I'm like 'Loren, give me an A?' And he looks over at me and plucks the A string, but out comes a 100 percent wet backwards reverb wash, like mist, 'shhaahhh!' And he smiles. So I'm like, 'Uh, one more time?' And I'm doing my best to tune to it. Then I look over and he's retuning. Trickster!"
These days, Connors is, like most of us, at home and eagerly awaiting the return of live performances. He says he's not picking up the guitar much but is ready to get back out there. When I ask what he plays when he does pick up his guitar, he simply says, "Whatever's twirling around inside me."YouTube It!
At New York City's Whitney Museum of American Art, Loren Connors performs a slow and meditative improvisation to create a reverb-soaked sonic reflection of Mark Rothko's Four Darks in Red.
Stompboxtober is finally here! Enter below for your chance to WIN today's featured pedal from Diamond Pedals! Come back each day during the month of October for more chances to win!
Diamond Pedals Dark Cloud
True to the Diamond design ethos of our dBBD’s hybrid analog architecture, Dark Cloud unlocks a new frontier in delay technology which was once deemed unobtainable by standard BBD circuit.
Powered by an embedded system, the Dark Cloud seamlessly blends input and output signals, crafting Tape, Harmonic, and Reverse delays with the organic warmth of analog companding and the meticulous precision of digital control.
Where analog warmth meets digital precision, the Dark Cloud redefines delay effects to create a pedal like no other
Wonderful array of weird and thrilling sounds can be instantly conjured. All three core settings are colorful, and simply twisting the time, span, and filter dials yields pleasing, controllable chaos. Low learning curve.
Not for the faint-hearted or unimaginative. Mode II is not as characterful as DBA and EQD settings.
$199
EarthQuaker Devices/Death By Audio Time Shadows
earthquakerdevices.com
This joyful noisemaker can quickly make you the ringmaster of your own psychedelic circus, via creative delays, raucous filtering, and easy-to-use, highly responsive controls.
I love guitar chaos, from the expressionist sound-painting of Jimi Hendrix’s “Machine Gun” to the clean, clever skronk ’n’ melody of Derek Bailey to the slide guitar fantasias of Sonny Sharrock to the dark, molten eruptions of Sunn O))). When I was just getting a grip on guitar, my friends and I would spend eight-hour days exploring feedback and twisted riffage, to see what we might learn about pushing guitar tones past the conventional.
So, pedals that are Pandora’s boxes of weirdness appeal to me. My two current favorites are my Mantic Flex Pro, a series of filter controls linked to a low-frequency oscillator, and my Pigtronix Mothership 2, a stompbox analog synth. But the Time Shadows II Subharmonic Multi-Delay Resonator is threatening their favored status—or at least demanding a third chair. This collaboration between Death By Audio and EarthQuaker Devices is a wonderful, gnarly little box of noise and fun that—unlike the two pedals I just mentioned—is easy to dial in and adjust on the fly, creating appealing and odd sounds at every turn.
Behind the Wall of Sound
Unlike the Mantic Flex Pro, the Time Shadows is consistent. You can plug the Mantic into the same rig, and that rig into the same outlet, every day, and there are going to be slight—or big—differences in the sound. Those differences are even less predictable on different stages and in different rooms. The Time Shadows, besides its operating consistency, has six user-programmable presets. They write with a single touch of the button in the center of the device’s tough, aluminum 4 3/4" x 2 1/2" x 2 1/4" shell. Inside that shell live ghosts, wind, and unicorns that blow raspberries on cue and more or less on key. EQD and DBA explain these “presences” differently, relating that the Time Shadow’s circuitry combines three delay voices (EQD, II, and DBA) with filters, fuzz, phasing, shimmer, swell, and subharmonics. There’s also an input for an expression pedal, which is great for making the Time Shadows’ more radical sounds voice-like and lending dynamic control. But sustaining a tone sweeping the time, span, and filter dials manually is rewarding on its own, producing a Strickfaden lab’s worth of swirling, sweeping, and dipping sounds.
Guitar Tone from Roswell
Because of the wide variety of sounds, swirls, and shimmers the Time Shadows produces, I found it best to play through a pair of combos in stereo, so the full range of, say, high notes cascading downwards and dropping pitch as they repeat, could be appreciated in their full dimensionality. (That happens in DBA mode, with the time and span at 10 and 4 o’clock respectively, with the filter also at 4, and it’s magical.) The pedal also stands up well to fuzz and overdrives whether paired with humbucker, P-90, or single-coil guitars.
I loved all three modes, but the more radical EQD and DBA positions are especially excellent. The EQD side piles dirt on the incoming signal, adds sub-octave shimmer, and is delayed just before hitting the filters. Keeping the filter function low lends alligator growls to sustained barre chords, and single notes transform into orchestral strings or brass turf, with a soft attack. Pushing the span dial high creates kaleidoscopes of sound. The Death By Audio mode really hones in on the pedal’s delay characteristics, creating crisp repeats and clean sounds with a little less midrange in the filtering, but lending the ability to cut through a mix at volume. The II mode is comparatively clean, and the filter control becomes a mix dial for the delayed signal.
The Verdict
The closest delay I’ve found comparable to the Time Shadows is Red Panda’s function-rich Particle 2 granular delay and pitch-shifter, which also uses filtering, among other tricks. But that pedal has a very deep menu of functions, with a larger learning curve. If you like to expect the unexpected, and you want it now, the Time Shadows supports crafting a wide variety of cool, surprising sounds fast. And that’s fun. The challenge will be working the Time Shadows’ cascading aural whirlpools and dinosaur choirs into song arrangements, but I heard how the pedal could be used to create unique, wonderful pads or bellicose solos after just a few minutes of playing. If you’d like to easily sidestep the ordinary, you might find spelunking the Time Shadows’ cavernous possibilities worthwhile.
This little pedal offers three voices—analog, tape, and digital—and faithfully replicates the highlights of all three, with minimal drawbacks.
Faithful replications of analog and tape delays. Straightforward design.
Digital voice can feel sterile.
$119
Fishman EchoBack Mini Delay
fishman.com
As someone who was primarily an acoustic guitarist for the first 16 out of 17 years that I’ve been playing, I’m relatively new to the pedal game. That’s not saying I’m new to effects—I’ve employed a squadron of them generously on acoustic tracks in post-production, but rarely in performance. But I’m discovering that a pedalboard, particularly for my acoustic, offers the amenities and comforts of the hobbit hole I dream of architecting for myself one day in the distant future.
But by gosh, if delay—and its sister effect, reverb—haven’t always been perfect for the music I like to write and play. Which brings us to the Fishman EchoBack Mini Delay. The EchoBack, along with the standard delay controls of level, time, and repeats—as well as a tap tempo—has a toggle to alternate between analog, tape, and digital-delay voices.
I hooked up my Washburn Bella Tono Elegante to my Blues Junior to give the EchoBack a test run. We love a medium delay—my usual preference for delay settings is to have both level and repeats at 1 o’clock, and time at 11 o’clock. With the analog voice switched on, I heard some pillowy warmth in the processed signal, as well as a familiar degradation with each repeat—until their wake gave way to a gentle, distant, crinkly ticking. Staying on analog and adjusting delay time down to 8 o’clock and repeats to about 11:30, some cozy slapback enveloped my rendition of Johnny Marr’s part to “Back to the Old House,” conjuring up thoughts of Elvis trapped in a small chamber, but in a good way. It sounded indubitably authentic. The one drawback of analog delay for me, generally, is that its roundness can feel a bit under water at times.
Switching over to tape, that pillowy warmth evaporated, and in its place came a very clear replication of my tone—but with just a bit of the highs shaved off the top. With the settings at the medium-length mode listed above, I could see the empty, glass hall the pedal sent my sound bouncing down. I heard several pronounced pings of repeats before the signal fully faded out. On slapback settings (time at 8 o’clock, repeats at 11:30), rather than Elvis, I heard something more along the lines of a honky-tonk mic in a glass bottle. Still relatively crystalline, which actually was not my favorite. I like a bit more crinkle—so maybe analog is my bag....“That pillowy warmth evaporated, and in its place came a very clear, pristine replication of my tone—but with just a bit of the highs shaved off the top.”
Next up, digital. Here we have the brightest voice, and as expected, the most faithful repeats. They ping just a few times before shifting to a smooth, single undulating wave. When putting its slapback hat on, I found that the effect was a bit less alluring than I’d observed for the analog and tape voices. This is where the digital delay felt a little too sterile, with the cleanly preserved signal feeling a bit unnatural.
All in all, I dig the EchoBack for its replications of analog and tape voices, and ultimately, lean towards tape. While it’s nice having the digital delay there as an option, it feels a bit too clean when meddling with time of any given length. Nonetheless, this is surely a handy stomp for any acoustic player looking to venture into the land of live effects, or for those who are already there.
A silicon Fuzz Face-inspired scorcher.
Hot silicon Fuzz Face tones with dimension and character. Sturdy build. Better clean tones than many silicon Fuzz Face clones.
Like all silicon Fuzz Faces, lacks dynamic potential relative to germanium versions.
$229
JAM Fuzz Phrase Si
jampedals.com
Everyone has records and artists they indelibly associate with a specific stompbox. But if the subject is the silicon Fuzz Face, my first thought is always of David Gilmour and the Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii film. What you hear in Live at Pompeii is probably shaped by a little studio sweetening. Even still, the fuzz you hear in “Echoes” and “Careful With That Axe, Eugene”—well, that is how a fuzz blaring through a wall of WEM cabinets in an ancient amphitheater should sound, like the sky shredded by the wail of banshees. I don’t go for sounds of such epic scale much lately, but the sound of Gilmour shaking those Roman columns remains my gold standard for hugeness.
JAM’s Fuzz Phrase Fuzz Face homage is well-known to collectors in its now very expensive and discontinued germanium version, but this silicon variation is a ripper. If you love Gilmour’s sustaining, wailing buzzsaw tone in Pompeii, you’ll dig this big time. But its ’66 acid-punk tones are killer, too, especially if you get resourceful with guitar volume and tone. And while it can’t match its germanium-transistor-equipped equivalent for dynamic response to guitar volume and tone settings or picking intensity, it does not have to operate full-tilt to sound cool. There are plenty of overdriven and near-clean tones you can get without ever touching the pedal itself.
Great Grape! It’s Purple JAM, Man!
Like any Fuzz Face-style stomp worth its fizz, the Fuzz Phrase Si is silly simple. The gain knob generally sounds best at maximum, though mellower settings make clean sounds easier to source. The output volume control ranges to speaker-busting zones. But there’s also a cool internal bias trimmer that can summon thicker or thin and raspy variations on the basic voice, which opens up the possibility of exploring more perverse fuzz textures. The Fuzz Phrase Si’s pedal-to-the-metal tones—with guitar volume and pedal gain wide open—bridge the gap between mid-’60s buzz and more contemporary-sounding silicon fuzzes like the Big Muff. And guitar volume attenuation summons many different personalities from the Fuzz Phrase Si—from vintage garage-psych tones with more note articulation and less sustain (great for sharp, punctuated riffs) as well as thick overdrive sounds.
If you’re curious about Fuzz Face-style circuits because of the dynamic response in germanium versions, the Fuzz Phrase Si performs better in this respect than many other silicon variations, though it won’t match the responsiveness of a good germanium incarnation. For starters, the travel you have to cover with a guitar volume knob to get tones approaching “clean” (a very relative term here) is significantly greater than that required by a good germanium Fuzz Face clone, which will clean up with very slight guitar volume adjustments. This makes precise gain management with guitar controls harder. And in situations where you have to move fast, you may be inclined to just switch the pedal off rather than attempt a dirty-to-clean shift with the guitar volume.
“The best clean-ish tones come via humbuckers and a high-headroom amp with not too much midrange, which makes a PAF-and-black-panel-Fender combination a great fit.”
The best clean-ish tones come via humbuckers and a high-headroom amp with not too much midrange, which makes a PAF-and-black-panel-Fender combination a great fit if you’re out to extract maximum dirty-to-clean range. You don’t need to attenuate your guitar volume as much with the PAF/black-panel tandem, and you can get pretty close to bypassed tone if you reduce picking intensity and/or switch from flatpick to fingers and nails. Single-coil pickups make such maneuvers more difficult. They tend to get thin in a less-than-ideal way before they shake the dirt, and they’re less responsive to the touch dynamics that yield so much range with PAFs. If you’re less interested in thick, clean tones, though, single-coils are a killer match for the Fuzz Phrase Si, yielding Yardbirds-y rasp, quirky lo-fi fuzz, and dirty overdrive that illuminates chord detail without sacrificing attitude. Pompeii tones are readily attainable via a Stratocaster and a high-headroom Fender amp, too, when you maximize guitar volume and pedal gain. And with British-style amps those same sounds turn feral and screaming, evoking Jimi’s nastiest.
The Verdict
Like every JAM pedal I’ve ever touched, the JAM Fuzz Phrase Si is built with care that makes the $229 price palatable. Cheaper silicon Fuzz Face clones may be easy to come by, but I’m hard-pressed to think they’ll last as long or as well as the Greece-made Fuzz Phrase Si. Like any silicon Fuzz Face-inspired design, what you gain in heat, you trade in dynamics. But the Si makes the best of this trade, opening a path to near-clean tones and many in-between gain textures, particularly if you put PAFs and a scooped black-panel Fender amp in the mix. And if streamlining is on your agenda, this fuzz’s combination of simplicity, swagger, and style means paring down pedals and controls doesn’t mean less fun.