Lilas Mayassi (left) and Shery Bechara (right) are the founding guitarists of the all-female Lebanese thrash-metal band, Slave to Sirens, as seen in the documentary Sirens, directed by Rita Baghdadi.
There’s a moment in the documentary Sirens when Blaakyum’s Bassem Deaibess declares that heavy metal is “100 percent pure sacrifice.” Deaibess says this to Shery Bechara, one half of the guitar tandem in Slave to Sirens, the all-women thrash-metal band from Lebanon who are the focus of the new film,directed by Rita Baghdadi. Deaibess was a close friend to Slave to Sirens in the band's early days. “I think what he meant by that was, you give a lot, for a long time, and don’t expect anything in return, especially if it’s here in Lebanon,” explains Bechara. “There’s so much sacrifice.”
Though much of Sirens ultimately focuses on guitarist Lilas Mayassi’s coming out, and how that inadvertently creates turmoil with her bandmates, Baghdadi’s deft filmmaking simultaneously captures just how challenging it is for a band like Slave to Sirens to even exist in the Middle East, much less grab the proverbial brass ring. Aside from the familiar struggles one might encounter in pursuit of a music career (or any artistic endeavor, for that matter), Slave to Sirens finds themselves face-to-face with cultural dogma, political protests, regional unrest, catastrophic disasters, and limited opportunities. The film is a metaphorical back-and-forth between the band’s own struggles and societal dysfunction writ large, but the magnitude of their quest is perhaps best amplified when Bechara’s father, Roger, tells her that less than one percent of the population in the Middle East listens to metal. You could make the argument that heavy metal is a fairly marginalized musical genre in the United States, but in the Middle East, a queer, all-female thrash-metal band is literally an against-all-odds gambit.
And yet, through sacrifice, fierce commitment to their ideals (some of which emerge throughout the film), and perseverance, Slave to Sirens starts to gain some traction within the metal community, particularly outside of Lebanon. Their performance at Glastonbury Festival in 2019 is a pivotal moment in the film. Solicited by Earache Records to perform on one of their stages, it is Slave to Sirens’ first international gig, and a seemingly triumphant opportunity. Their time slot, however, runs simultaneous with a Babymetal performance on one of the main stages, so they are left playing to a single-digit audience. Baghdadi artfully crafts an emotional rollercoaster from such bittersweet moments. Think ABC’s “The thrill of victory … and the agony of defeat” slogan from Wide World of Sports in the 1970s—disappointment and exaltation abound equally.
Slave To Sirens - Salomé (OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO)
“Glastonbury was an amazing experience, and we learned a lot from it,” says Mayassi, who seems far more upbeat about it now than she did in the film. “We were unlucky in the time slot, but we didn’t really care, because the point for us was just performing and having fun.” It’s been about four years since Sirens was shot, so distance clearly provides some perspective.
“I think whatever happened with us, especially with the revolution and the port explosion, it just stays there—it stays and inspires, and everything that happens affects us personally and musically.”—Lilas Mayassi
Slave to Sirens was formed by a chance encounter between Bechara and Mayassi in 2015 in Lebanon during an anti-government protest regarding a waste management crisis. In 2018, they independently released their debut EP, Terminal Leeches, which pricked up some ears around the globe, leading to the invitation from Earache to perform at Glastonbury. Lyrically, the band addresses much of the societal strife that seems to plague the Middle East. Musically, the songs are infused by the thrash and death metal influences of their youth, and Mayassi and Bechara both attack their instruments with a kind of swagger that belies their years.
Shery Bechara's Gear
Bechara is the lead guitarist in Slave to Sirens, but both she and rhythm guitarist Mayassi write equally and switch on parts whenever the mood takes over.
Photo by Sally Mïre
Guitars
- Vox Custom 25
- Dean Dime Razorback Slime Bumblebee
- Dean Exile Select 7-string Multiscale
Amps
- Peavey Heritage VTX Series 12-watt 2x12 combo
Effects
- Line 6 POD HD500 multi-effect/amp modeler
Strings and Picks
- Fender 250R Nickel-Plated Steel .010–.046 strings
- D’Addario Regular Light XL .010–.046 strings
- Ernie Ball 2215 Skinny Top Heavy Bottom Slinky .010–.052 strings
- Dunlop Ultex Jazz III 1.38 mm picks
- Dunlop Primetone Jazz III 1.4 mm picks
- Dunlop John Petrucci Jazz III 1.5 mm picks
- Levy’s Leathers guitar straps
- D’Addario Planet Waves cables
The guitar playing is tight and tenacious, featuring quirky, unexpected rhythmic patterns courtesy of Mayassi, and nuanced melodic note choices and phrasing from Bechara. In 2022, the band, which also included bassist Alma Doumani, drummer Tatyana Boughaba, and singer Maya S. Khairallah, released the bludgeoning single “Salomé,” but as of January 1, 2023, they announced on social media that Khairallah and Boughaba had left the band, and introduced Anita Tóth from Hungary as their new lead singer. There’s been no official announcement yet regarding their new drummer. According to Mayassi, they’ve currently tracked about 80 percent of the guitars and bass for a new album. “We have new members,” she clarifies. “So, we’re trying to finish the vocals.” She says they’re mixing at Dyne Engine Studio in Italy with Manuele Pesaresi, who worked with them on Terminal Leeches.
“I think what he meant by that was, you give a lot, for a long time, and don’t expect anything in return, especially if it’s here in Lebanon.”—Shery Bechara
According to the film credits, Mayassi and Bechara occupy fairly distinct roles in Slave to Sirens—Mayassi is billed as the rhythm guitarist, while Bechara is billed “lead guitar.” Mayassi admits that she’s mostly fascinated by the rhythmic aspects of a song. “My focus always shifts to the drums and bass,” she explains. “Shery is more about the soloing and all the dynamics that truly animate a song—she adds the color.”
Bechara describes Mayassi’s style as rough and very thrashy. “She loves the ‘djent, djent, djent,’” she says. “I like that, too, but she has a different approach to it than me. Also, she’s really good on the clean parts, with chorus and vibrato—I see something in her eyes. It’s like, ‘Mm-hmm [laughs].’”
Lilas Mayassi's Gear
Mayassi started playing guitar at age 13, and would spend hours at an internet cafe studying shredders on YouTube.
Photo by Sally Mïre
Guitars
- DBZ Venom Flying V
- Dean Thoroughbred Select
Amps
- Marshall MG30FX 30-Watt 1x10 combo
- Marshall JCM800 2203X 100-watt head
Effects
- Electro-Harmonix Memory Man XO Analog Delay/Chorus/Vibrato
- DigiTech DF-7 Distortion Factory
Strings and Picks
- Ernie Ball Regular Slinky .010–.046 strings
- Ernie Ball Power Slinky .011–.048 strings
- Dunlop John Petrucci Jazz III 1.5 mm picks
Despite such seemingly clear-cut differences in how they approach guitar parts, there is a moment in the documentary when the two are working on a song idea and Mayassi is playing the single-note melodic phrases, while Bechara backs her up on rhythm. So clearly there’s some wiggle room when inspiration strikes. “Whenever I feel like I have an idea, I’ll solo over it,” says Mayassi. “If Shery has an idea, she solos over it. We just go with the flow, whatever we feel like [laughs].”
Both Mayassi and Bechara picked up the guitar in their teens and were mostly self-taught. Mayassi started playing when she was just 13. “I didn’t have access to guitar lessons or anything, so I relied more on a friend in high school who would take pictures of his playing and I would mimic his finger position on the fretboard,” she explains. She would also go once a week to an internet cafe to watch hours of guitar shredding on YouTube. “That was the turning point for me. I started learning, through the videos—that’s what I had access to.” Today, she holds a bachelor’s degree in music education from Lebanese University (LU).
Bechara says she learned from her dad but is also mostly self-taught. She did study for a month at a music school and wants to go back. “I want to learn more things and improve,” she says. “There’s always something to learn. I’m trying to get into music theory and put technique with it.”
Terminal Leeches is the 2018 debut EP by Slave to Sirens, and was recorded at Dyne Engine Studio in Castelfidardo, Italy, with Manuele Pesaresi. The band is currently putting the finishing touches on a new album at Pesaresi’s studio.
As for influences, Bechara says her dad was into rock, blues, and jazz, so those genres influenced her as she was starting out, but she quickly got into heavy metal. “[My dad] never was into metal,” she chuckles. “He used to tell me, ‘You’ll get over it,’ but when he saw how committed I was, and he heard a few bands that I listened to, like Iron Maiden and Carach Angren, he was like, ‘Okay, the riffing on the guitar is very, very good,’ but he’s not into the growling [laughs].”
“I didn’t have access to guitar lessons or anything, so I relied more on a friend in high school who would take pictures of his playing and I would mimic his finger position on the fretboard.”—Lilas Mayassi
Mayassi lists Joan Jett as perhaps her biggest inspiration, but also name-checks Alexi Laiho from Children of Bodom, Steve Vai, and Joe Satriani. “Then I fell in love with thrash and death metal,” she says. “So, it’s like Testament, all the ‘Big Four’ bands [Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer, and Anthrax], and Death, the band.”
Aside from musical influences, Mayassi raises the specter of inherited trauma in the film and the impact that has had on their personal and professional lives. “My parents were kids back when the civil war started [in 1975],” she says. “They were affected by what happened, and that trauma, that fear—it’s some kind of pessimism. These events leave some kind of a scar that doesn’t really go away. The body stores trauma, and it appears in the form of stress. And now, I think whatever happened with us, especially with the revolution and the port explosion, it just stays there—it stays and inspires, and everything that happens affects us personally and musically.”
YouTube It
Sirens is a documentary that follows the Lebanese metal band Slave to Sirens as the five members fight to make a path in music while dealing with societal and personal conflict in their home country.
As for her coming out while shooting the documentary, Mayassi says, “One of the main reasons I felt unapologetically myself in this documentary is because I had the girls with me.” But in a culture that essentially prohibits same-sex relations, and LGBTQ rights are fairly nonexistent, Mayassi admits to being concerned about the fallout from the film. “When the film was released, I started realizing, ‘Okay, I think it’s going to be a problem,’” she says. “We had a lot of tough conversations with Rita. We were lucky that she was able to understand where we come from, and our concerns were respected. But when the film happened to spotlight me and my friends, first I had concerns about their safety, and then the safety of the band. So, at the start, we didn’t feel bad, but during the last years of filming, we started being aware more and more.”
The documentary closes out with the aptly titled Sound of Resilience concert, which was organized by Baalbeck International Festival, and led by conductor Harout Fazlian and the Lebanese Philharmonic Orchestra. It took place on July 5, 2020, at the Temple of Bacchus. Both Bechara and Mayassi are featured on guitar during a performance of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir.” It’s an auspicious moment, in a stunning setting, that seems to foretell a promising future for the two of them. “It was a new experience and a huge honor,” says Bechara. “Actually, playing with an orchestra was something like a dream.”
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Elliott Sharp is a dapper dude. Not a dandy, mind you, but an elegant gentleman.
I am writing this piece for a guitar magazine, so, necessarily, I must serve up info that is guitar-centric. And I can do that, at least a little bit. But Elliott is also a noted composer, runs his own little record label, plays woodwinds proficiently, is a guitar builder/tinkerer, author, gracious supporter of other musicians’ efforts, family man, and killer blues player—a blues scholar, in fact. So where do we, the public, conditioned to needing categories, pigeonholes, and easy assessment signals, put Elliott Sharp—an artist with a powerful work ethic and a long, illustrious career of making mind-bending sounds and conceptual works? How about putting him in the pantheon of the maverick and the multifaceted? Surely this pantheon exists somewhere! In mind, in heart. To those for whom such things resonate and inspire, I bring you Elliott Sharp.
One can obviously go to the information superhighway to find info on Elliott, and to hear his music, so I won’t go into too many details about where he was born (Cleveland) and when (March 1, 1951; as of this writing, Elliott is 74), or what he is best known for (being a crucial figure in the downtown New York City scene from 1979 to the present). He is Berlin Prize winner and a Guggenheim Fellow (among other honors). And I have never asked him what strings and picks he uses, so maybe I have already blown it here. But I realize now, having taken on this assignment, that inherent in writing about and trying to explain Elliott Sharp is an implicit TMI factor. There is so much going on here, so much diverse information that could be imparted, that I would not be the least bit surprised if some readers eventually glaze over a bit and start thinking of their own life’s efforts and goals as rather paltry. I get that! Although you shouldn’t.
E# @NaturalHabitat
Here, now, is my portrait of Elliott, accompanied by what I imagine is a day in the life of Elliott when he’s at home in New York City.
Elliott Sharp is a dapper dude. Not a dandy, mind you, but an elegant gentleman. He, like so many in New York and in the world of music/art/guitar, favors dark-hued clothing (yeah, a preponderance of black) and is most often seen wearing a classic slouch hat of obvious quality. He relocated from Buffalo via Western Massachusetts to lower Manhattan in 1979 to a zone that was, back then, quite treacherously decrepit, in an apartment that offered only an hour or so of heat in the winter, etc., etc. It was cheap, and things were always happening, and, in fact, it was the 1950s domicile of William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, and Jack Kerouac.The area became the nexus of an ever-expanding circle of iconoclastic, experimental artists of many stripes.
Sharp plays what passes for a fairly staid instrument in his collection: a bass and guitar doubleneck, in 1992.
Elliott is still in that building in the East Village, though it is now only his workplace and not his living space. I am trying to remember exactly when I met Elliott, but it was probably about 25 years ago, and he still had only the one small, original apartment and a shared music space in the Garment District. I, like countless others before and after me, stayed in that East Village apartment whenever I needed a place to crash and Elliott was elsewhere, and eventually he was able to secure the next door apartment and expand his space. This is where Elliott Sharp works every day that he is not touring, pretty much 9 to 6. The place is a bit funky and dusty, and it is filled with instruments, amps (some classics, like a mid-’60s Princeton Reverb and a tweed Champ), and other tools accumulated over many decades—in spite of the many times that certain ones had to be sold to keep bread on the table.
When he’s not composing, scoring films, recording other artists, or gigging with the bands he has been in or led for the last several decades (Mofungo, Carbon/Orchestra Carbon, SysOrk, Terraplane, The Bootstrappers, Aggragat), Elliott tinkers with guitars, pedals, mandolins. Elliott is, to me, the king of guitar transformation, and his tinkering is stunningly Frankensteinian as he guts, rebuilds, and alters all kinds of stringed instruments, both electric and acoustic. He recently told me that in the ’60s he built fuzz boxes out of tobacco tins to make money. How cool would it be to have one of those now?? If one does a search on Elliott Sharp, many photos will reveal what I'm talking about: the handcrafted doubleneck he was most often seen playing in the ’80s (there was maybe more than one), 8-string guitars, modified Strat-type guitars with completely different pickups.. He also has a fancy guitar or two, such as his Koll fanned-fret 8-string, upon which he has played many a solo recital. During Covid time,, things were a little slow in the cash-flow department and, as a family man with twins, a little extra income was needed. So Elliott started building really cool-looking guitars out of cheap
ones and parts from wherever and refinishing them in hip and attractive ways and called them Mutantu. He sold them to friends and friends of friends. Yours truly basically only changes strings on his guitars, appealing helplessly to experts to do any kind of work on his guitars and amps, afraid of costly errors. The maverick and multifaceted among us, like Elliott, possess no such fear.
Even a leader in experimental 6-string gets a little guitar face now and then—especially when he’s playing blues.
Photo by Scott Friedlander
So, back to that promised day in the life of Elliott Sharp (as imagined, with some degree of knowledge, by me): It’s early morning, and there is family to contend with. No bohemian lollygagging! So it’s feed the kids breakfast, do what parents must do. Then it’s off to the office (his studio), so Elliott dons a fine gray shirt (is that silk?), dark trousers, coat, and hat, and walks north from the family apartment on nearly the lowest point of eastern Manhattan to the East Village. The traffic and endless refurbishing of the Williamsburg Bridge roars familiarly overhead, the East River flows, and eventually a river of another kind, Houston Street, is crossed. Up the stairs to the fifth floor and the studio door is unlocked. Espresso is made. (There will be more of this.) The computer is turned on. And then ... who knows? Anything could be on the docket, but some sort of work will ensue for a good eight hours. Maybe a new graphic score for a German symphony is in the works (some of these have become visual artworks, too), or maybe it's time to try another mix of that Terraplane track, the one with Elliott’s friend, hero, and inspiration Hubert Sumlin—the one Elliott recorded not long before the famed Howlin’ Wolf guitarist joined his ancestors in the Great Beyond. Or maybe he’s recording a variation on his trio ERR Guitar (where he was originally joined by Marc Ribot and Mary Halvorson), called ERE Guitar Today, with Sally Gates and Tashi Dorji. Could happen—and it did. You can see Elliott’s studio in the ERE Guitar CD booklet.
Or maybe it’s guitar tinkering/building time. Where’s that delightfully chunky neck from China that would be awesome on that fake Tele body that was just refitted with no-name humbuckers (“sounded good once I removed the pickup covers,” Elliott observes) and a resophonic guitar tailpiece? By 5 or 6 it’s time to go home, maybe cook dinner tonight. And then ... my little imagined epic ends with a tasteful cinematic cliché: the dissolve.
The E# Way
Elliott Sharp has techniques that, in some cases, are all his own. No stranger to open tunings, prepared guitar, and other extended techniques, he often utilizes rhythmic, two-hand tapping to create spiraling, hypnotic patterns. His composing over these many years has employed and embraced genetics, Fibonacci numbers, algorithms, and fractal geometry. Though a mathematics and physics know-nothing myself, I see and hear a relationship between these elements as he has applied them to his uncompromisingly avant-garde compositions and these tapping patterns often heard in his solo work. Once he kicks in signal processing, stand back! What one hears sounds like four people (or other species and life forms), and the sensation is exhilarating. Sure, there could also be evidence of (here it comes) skronk (I can't believe I used that word), but Elliott certainly does not reside permanently in that world. Enjoying all kinds of sounds, from the lonesome moan of a resonator guitar to the aleatoric sputterings and squeals of a tormented electric guitar, is something he and I share, after all. Take, for example, two of his latest recordings on his zOaR imprint, Mandorleand Mandocello, which document his solo work on the two instruments, respectively. Both recordings investigate the instruments’ acoustic characteristics before, about half-way through, switching suddenly to electric, ultra-processed sounds. It’s a bracing experience that explains a few things about this man and the breadth of his aesthetic sweep. The sounds bring up images of recombinant DNA (information on which he has also imbued into his work), roiling lava, and the ever-expanding universe. Recommended!
Sharp applies his wicked two-handed-tapping technique to his 8-string, fanned-fret guitar built by Saul Koll.
Photo by Scott Friedlander
So, this might fit into the aforementioned TMI category, but Elliott Sharp puts out a staggering amount of recordings. Every time I see him (which is not often enough), he has a little pile of compact discs for me, often on zOaR. I saw somewhere recently that he has released 165 recordings, but I think there are probably more than that. It’s hard for even the data lords to keep up! But it’s not always Elliott Sharp pieces or improvisation/collaborations on these albums. Other artists whom Elliott knows and respects can be represented, such as Spanish electric guitarist/conceptualizer A. L. Guillén, late bassist/producer Peter Freeman, Italian voice and guitar duo XIPE, or Hardenger fiddle player Agnese Amico—all articulate and singular musicians whom Elliott assists by releasing their music. I am grateful for this. It’s obviously more “work” for Elliott, and he accomplishes it, along with everything else he takes on or imagines doing, with elegant aplomb. Though obviously a nose-to-the-grindstone worker, Elliott is generally low-key and relaxed, even after those espressos.
The last thing I want to write about is Elliott's interpretations of the music of Thelonious Monk. Are you surprised, even after everything else you have just read, that something like that exists? In 2003, Elliott released a solo acoustic guitar recording called Sharp? Monk? Sharp! Monk!, and stunned the world (well, those few who pay attention to such things). However, my first exposure to Elliott's Monk interpretations was the more recent Monkulations, expertly recorded live in Vienna in 2007. (You can hear it on Bandcamp). These recordings are, justifiably I suppose, controversial in certain corners, because they do not adhere to Monk's exact written particulars note-for-note. Yet the mood, gestures, rhythmic wonders, and even the harmonic depth of Thelonious Monk often emerges, and frequently in astonishing ways. I understand why some would take issue with this approach because it departs significantly from the jazz tradition, but I find it remarkably fresh, bold, and so delightfully E#. They reveal an aspect of Elliott’s thinking and playing that is surprising in some ways, but also so him. It is clear to me that Elliott has seriously examined and internalized Monk’s repertoire.
Spring(s) in the garden: Sharp can use just about any tool in his improvisations.
Photo by Norman Westberg
Elliott is an artist who plays more than one instrument, plays them all in unique, startling, and often innovative ways, composes rigorous conceptual works from chamber music to operas, makes electronic music with no guitar, plays mean blues guitar like a swamp rat, authors books (I highly recommend his mostly memoir IrRational Music, and a second book is emerging this fall), builds and modifies guitars and other devices, is stunningly prolific, and is an elegant gentleman. The planet is a better place with him and his work in it. The maverick and multifaceted often have a rough road to tread, as we all know. So check out Elliott Sharp's vast world if any of this seems interesting to you. Thanks, Elliott!
YouTube
Watch Elliott Sharp and Marc Ribot deliver a masterclass in free improvisation at Manhattan’s Cornelia Street Café in 2010—Sharp’s two-handed tapping and slide playing included.
Elliott Sharp’s Favorite Gear
This doubleneck guitar accompanied Sharp on many of his ’80s performances and is one of his earlier experimental instruments, as is this 8-string.
Road
Guitars
• Strandberg 8-string Boden
• 1996 Henderson-Greco 8-string
Amp
• Fender Deluxe Reverb or black-panel Twin Reverb (depending on size of venue)
• Trace-Elliot bass amp w 4x10 cabinet
(live rig uses both amps, run in stereo)
Effects
• Eventide H90 w/ Sonicake expression pedal
• Sonicake Fuzz
• Hotone Komp
• Hotone Blues
• TC Electronic Flashback 2
• VSN Twin Looper
Accessories
• Slides, EBows, springs, metal rods and strips, small wooden and ceramic square plates
Home
Guitars
• 1946 Martin OO-18 acoustic guitar
• 2006 Squier 51 (Sharp explains: “On New Year's Day 2007, I took the twins down to the East River in their stroller. They were 15 months old and knew a few words. As we rolled along, they started shouting “guitar, guitar,” and, sure enough, sticking out of a garbage can was a black Squier 51 that someone had attempted to ritually sacrifice. Brought it home and cleaned it, and it’s become a favorite couch guitar.”)
Obviously, any sound that emerges from the Triple-Course Bass Pantar is likelly to be interesting.
Studio
Guitars and stringed instruments
• Fender 1994 ’50s Telecaster built from a Fender-offered kit
• Mutantum lime green metalflake Strat w/Seymour Duncan Little ’59 pickups
• Mutantum solidbody “manouche” Strat w/classical neck
• Saul Koll custom 8-string
• Rick Turner Renaissance Baritone
• 1966 Epiphone Howard Roberts
• 1965 Harmony Bobkat
• 1984/’96 Heer-Henderson Doubleneck
• 1956 Gibson CF-100 acoustic guitar
• 1968 Hagstrom H8 8-string bass
• Mutantum Norma fretless electric
• Godin Multiac Steel Duet
• 2001 Dell’Arte Grande Bouche
• 1958 Fender Stringmaster 8-string console steel guitar
• 1936 Rickenbacker B6 lap steel
• 1950s Framus Nevada Mandolinetto
• Mutantum Electric Mandocello
• Arches H-Line
• Triple-Course Bass Pantar
Amps
• 1966 Fender black-panel Princeton Reverb
• 1980 Fender 75 (Per Sharp: “Cut down to a head and modded by Matt Wells into a Dumble-ish monster! For recording, it plugs into a 1x10 cab with a Jensen speaker or a Hartke Transporter 2x10 cab
• 1970 Fender Bronco
• 1960 Fender tweed Champ modded by Matt Wells
Effects and Electronics
• Vintage EHX 16-Second Delay w/foot controller
• Eventide H3000
• Eventide PitchFactor
• Lexicon PCM42
• ZVEX Fuzz Factory
• Summit DCL-200 Compressor Limiter
• SSL SiX desktop
• Prescription Electronics Experience
• Zoom Ultra Fuzz
• Korg MS-20 analog synthesizer
• Korg Volca Modular synthesizer
• Make Noise 0-Coast synthesizer
• Moog Moogerfooger Ring Modulator
• Moog Moogerfooger Low-Pass Filter
• Softscience Optical Compressor (for DI recording, custom made by Kevin Hilbiber)
Strings
• Ernie Ball Regular Slinky (.010–.046) or Power Slinky (.011–.048), for conventional guitar.
Jedd tells us how his dream came true and how he first started playing with Vince. We dig deep into how everybody’s favorite country guitarist raises the bar every time he picks up the guitar, how he gets his amazing clean tone, and we take time to appreciate all aspects of his solos—including how he builds them and how he plays such clean bends. As for why his concerts are so long? “He loves to play.”
In our current listening segment, we’re covering the Black Crowes and Jimmy Page’s Live at the Greek box set and a live recording from Burlington, Vermont’s Breathwork.
