
When they were Monsters: A rare, smiling Metallica band promo photo from the …And Justice for All era. From left to right: Kirk Hammett, Lars Ulrich, Jason Newsted, and James Hetfield.
Impressions from the road with the world’s heaviest band—during their ascent, from the Monsters of Rock tour to …And Justice for All and Load.
We are all in Hell. At least that’s how it seems in Akron, Ohio’s Rubber Bowl stadium, a nearly half-century-old, crumbling concrete relic built to amass the sun’s rays until hot enough to remove the flesh from the bones of the members of the University of Akron’s football team. It’s June 1988, and the first day of a two-show stand for the original Monsters of Rock tour, with Van Halen, Dokken, Kingdom Come, the Scorpions, and, in the middle of the bill, Metallica. One of these things is not like the others. Most play by the old-school rules of metal, and they hit their marks—hard. But not as hard as Metallica, whose set detonates with an almost incomprehensible mix of rage and soul. In the songs they play that day, which include “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” “Welcome Home (Sanitarium),” “Harvester of Sorrow,” “Fade to Black,” “Seek & Destroy,” “Master of Puppets,” and “Am I Evil,” there is a world of pain and celebration, of self-doubt and exorcism—all hinged on James Hetfield’s downstroked guitar tones, a tsunami of high-gain amplification, and a drummer who is seemingly trying to beat the Devil back into his pit.
Which brings us back to Hell. It’s 97 degrees in the Rubber Bowl and there is little refuge within its grim walls, and inadequate food and beverage service. Everyone is hot, thirsty, and covered with sweat and dust. At one point in his band’s set, Rudolf Schenker, songwriter and rhythm guitarist for Scorpions, tries one of his colorful stage moves—twirling a Flying V over his head while holding it by the headstock—and the guitar leaps from his sweat-covered paw, flies across the proscenium, and cracks in half.
I’m there because I’ve been sent on assignment by Musician magazine, where I’m associate editor at the time, and perhaps the only writer there besides the Rev. Charles M. Young who takes metal seriously. A few months before I came on, the publication did its first metal cover, depicting Rob Halford and other hard-rocking heroes as Marvel comics characters.
There is nothing cartoonish about Metallica’s performances on both days in this unforgiving fortress of rock. At this point in their career, they specialize in lurching, locomotive rhythms, head-snapping time changes, and a relentless wall of sound that, while brutal in its own delicious way, takes away the pain of the heat. It’s a sound that cannot be denied. And the crowds show their love by exploding at the end of every song, and bouncing fans onto the stage like human volleyballs, tossed back by security in return. It’s fun to watch, and transporting to hear.
Metallica and Load brought a new sound and look for the band—Lars Ulrich, Jason Newsted, James Hetfield, and Kirk Hammett.
Photo by Anton Corbijn
In fact, when I first heard Metallica, I didn’t comprehend that they were a metal band. I picked up Kill ’Em All on a whim in 1983, intrigued by the hammer with bloodstains on its cover. To my ears, and the reference points of my outlier listening habits, they were mixing hardcore with the avant-garde—creating a sound more akin to Sonic Youth or sped-up Swans than Sabbath, Zeppelin, or Priest, all bands I also loved. But when I caught them on tour, I got it. At that point, I knew nothing of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, since its sound never reached the rust belt of central Connecticut, where I grew up. What arrested me was more than Metallica’s garb, long hair, and the crowd’s headbanging. They pummeled … and artfully soared—a rare balance. James Hetfield drove the songs with his bristling, emotionally fraught howl, and used his profoundly insistent guitar style to command demon groove to do his bidding, with drummer Lars Ulrich and bassist Cliff Burton also keeping their hands on its chains. And Kirk Hammett was entirely unfettered, tossing off ferocious melodies that were so fast and compact they were sometimes hard to absorb intellectually, but nonetheless landed breath-stealing emotional punches. Hell of a rhythm player, too. This was heavy rock wrought extra heavy, then made even heavier by the band’s intersection of energy, virtuosity, power, imagination, and heart. It was evolutionary metal that would lead the genre in multiple directions: powerfully introspective songwriting, a new form of rhythmic expression, explosive nihilism, and edgier, more furious guitar virtuosity. If there was another band as literally impactful at the time, I was unaware of it.
“When I first heard Metallica, I didn’t comprehend that they were a metal band.”
My task at the Rubber Bowl is to interview all the lead guitarists, from Kingdom Come’s Danny Stag to Edward Van Halen. [See this month’s Tuning Up.] When I catch up with Hammett, it is in an especially noxious space in the corridor of the decaying arena, with the smell of truck fuel, forklifts beeping, and the other sensations of gear and worker bees in motion. Not the perfect place for an interview, but somehow the aural barrage that accompanies our conversation seems like a noisy metaphor for Metallica’s own restless, tentacular reach of sounds and emotions.
Kirk Hammett roars with one of his ESP LTD KH-602 signature models.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
We talk about Hammett’s approach, his lessons with Joe Satriani, the band’s core sonic strategy. “What we try to do is form one solid voice,” he offers. “One solid machine locking into a groove and pushing it into everyone’s faces. I mean, I can do the sweep arpeggios and hammer-ons and stuff until I’m blue in the face, but that doesn’t fit what we’re about. I prefer to use certain guitar techniques as effects, rather than an important facet of my playing. When I’m going for a wah pedal, for example, I use a little hammering for the transition.”
Metallica are about to make a transition themselves. Hammett tells me that early in the tour Hetfield and Ulrich had been flying back to L.A.’s One on One Recording between Monsters shows, putting the final touches on a new album. When that recording, …And Justice for All, debuts in August, it will live on Billboard’s albums chart for 83 weeks—sharing that space with releases by Tracy Chapman, Bruce Springsteen, and Michael Jackson—and peak at No. 6, transforming the band from outlier to mainstream force, and transforming the musical mainstream in the process. Without Metallica, modern metal titans like Korn, Testament, Avenged Sevenfold, and others would likely not exist, and if they did, they would not have been as successful. Metallica was, and still is, the game-changer.
The Monsters of Rock tour was the first of three times I was on the road with Metallica during a pivotal decade in their career, spanning their albums …And Justice for All, Metallica, and Load—a period that saw them explode in popularity, go through a musical metamorphosis, and begin to reckon with their emotional and psychological haunts as individuals and as a band, and do it in public. The 2004 documentary of their near-dissolution and ultimate rebirth, Some Kind of Monster, was messy and honest and perfectly in keeping with Metallica’s awareness that they have created a true—and gigantic—community for themselves and their fans, built around their music. Among friends, there are no secrets. To anyone who’s attended a stop on their current, two-year-long tour behind 72 Seasons, rumbling through stadiums around the world like an earthquake, it’s obvious that community cuts across all kinds of demographics to create a rare oneness in a divided world.
James Hetfield in 1988, with one of his Gibson Explorers. More beer, anyone?
Photo by Dean Messina/Frank White Photo Agency
When I next catch up with Metallica, it’s in Amsterdam, where they have a day off before playing the final show of the first leg of the …And Justice tour. Somehow—perhaps through persistence and excellence—their album about war, intolerance, suppression, alienation, and mortality (hey, that’s life!) has hit the top 10. My first day is devoted to interviews with Ulrich, Newsted, and Hammett—and a little weed smoking—and on the next morning, I ride with Hetfield to the gig, at the Leiden Groenoordhallen.
It’s a cattle market by day, and before the night’s show the accumulated cow shit is bulldozed out of the 11,000 SRO facility to make way for the fans. On the ride, we talk mostly about his songwriting and how it often draws on his own experiences, and especially his complicated relationship with his Christian Scientist family, whose rules and restrictions made him feel like an outsider. But it’s not like Hetfield watches the world go by while he limns his navel. He talks about plucking song ideas from headlines, like “Eye of the Beholder,” which was triggered by an interview with Dead Kennedys frontman Jello Biafra, talking about the obscenity trial that ensued after the DKs included an H.R. Giger artwork known as “Penis Landscape” in their 1985 album Frankenchrist. And how “To Live Is to Die” was inspired by a eulogy at the funeral of Cliff Burton, who’d been replaced by Jason Newsted on bass by the Monsters of Rock tour.
“The rhythm background is a flatted fifth with a minor pentatonic, so I had to alter every other note in the solo so it would fit.”—Kirk Hammett
With …And Justice for All, the band’s musical ambitions have risen, which demands a lot from its members. Hammett, for example, explains that “‘The Frayed Ends of Sanity’ has some off-tempo key changes that are really difficult. Usually a key change comes in a safe part of a song, like after every eight bars. But here it’s in the middle of the fifth bar. And then, to add more difficulty, the rhythm background is a b5 with a minor pentatonic, so I had to alter every other note in the solo so it would fit. I had worked out a lot of different things to do in the studio, because it’s so tough. But in the end, only about 20 percent of what I’d planned was good enough to use. For one thing, when I got in the studio to record my parts, the tracks were a lot faster than any of the demo tapes I had.”
So he just went for it, which Metallica does that night in Leiden. Despite the crushing sounds and desperate lyrics blasting from the stage—or maybe because of them—the atmosphere is ragingly celebratory. The floor is slicked with beer, and robust men keep queueing up at the concessions to order a half-dozen brews at a time—often for themselves. Backstage, before the show, Metallica are no slouches, either. The green room has its own Jägermeister chiller, and everyone partakes copiously. After all, this is in the days when they are still tagged with the nickname “Alcoholica”—although Ulrich assures me they have all slowed down compared to the “three or four years when we did have every excess known to man.”
At one point during the show—which is absolutely ripping and inspired—a bit of foreshadowing occurs. Hammett stands a little too close to a flash pot when it explodes, and he is visibly shaken. He stops playing for a moment, and looks stunned, but then digs back into his guitar. During a Montreal show four years later, Hetfield would suffer second-degree burns in a similar-but-worse pyro-gone-amuck accident. For the record, during the …And Justice tour, Hammett is playing Fernandes Vs and Strat-styles, while Hetfield is big on Gibson Explorers. They’re also both plugging into the Mesa/Boogie amps that have become, and still are, part of their sonic firmament, and Hetfield also uses a Roland JC-120. Newsted is playing a custom 5-string Wal, with Crown power amps, a Trace-Elliot preamp, and Ampeg cabs.
After the show, Metallica throws an end-of-tour party, renting out a restaurant in a nearby town and putting literally every bottle behind the bar out for self-service. Plus, we’re in the Netherlands, which means joints the size of hoagies are making the rounds. Just before I leave, to catch an hour’s shuteye before grabbing a plane back to the States, I witness something truly touching. At the end of the night, a dark-haired young stranger throws her arms around Ulrich and begins to sob, crying over how much she’ll miss experiencing Metallica live. He freezes and his eyes widen in surprise, then soften, and he spends the next 15 minutes quietly talking her out of her tears.
Later, I’m nearly driven to tears on the flight home. After a day of interviews, a devastatingly superb rock show, and a lot of drinking and smoking, a family with a crying baby takes the seats in front of my row on the plane, and the child howls all the way from Amsterdam to New York. As I shuffle into customs in my leather jacket, black jeans, engineer’s boots, and Metallica t-shirt … my eyes red, my face unshaven, my head louder than Lars’ kick drum … the agent stops me.
Kirk Hammett on the Monsters of Rock Tour at Giants Stadium, two months before the release of Metallica’s game-changing album, …And Justice for All.
Photo by Dean Messina/Frank White Photo Agency
“Where have you been, sir?”
“Amsterdam.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Business.”
“What kind of business.”
“I’m a journalist.”
“And what were you doing?”
“Interviewing Metallica.”
“Okay, go through.”
That is not how I thought that conversation would end.
The next time I connect with the band, their world has changed. The pivot was 1991’s Metallica, also known as The Black Album. Some of their fans consider it a sacrilegious betrayal of the raw and heavy. I think it’s a logical step. After conquering, hell, redefining what metal is, why not reach back and claim the original grail as well? Why not prove a mastery of classic-rock songwriting, of melodies with air and grace, of hooks that take you to the heights of the charts and insure permanence on radio, of the style that inspired the style—that New Wave of British Heavy Metal—that inspired you? I don’t hear that album as betrayal; I hear it as beautiful.
But it’s six more years, in 1997, before I have the opportunity to check in with Metallica in person again, and this time it’s in Italy, for concerts in Milan and Turin. They’re staying at the Hotel Principe di Savoia near Milan’s Central Station. In Akron, they stayed at a Holiday Inn. Built in 1876, the Principe di Savoia bills itself as the favorite choice of royalty and celebrities. Metallica are now both, and a crowd of fans is stationed outside the hotel 24/7 in hopes of a glimpse or encounter. The lobby glows with stained glass, and in my room I find a fluffy bathrobe draped over a heated chrome pipe in a bathroom that’s the size of my first Boston apartment. In the morning, I can’t decide whether to take a dip in the lovely art-deco-style pool or ride a rooftop stationary bike, overlooking the city. I opt for the bike and the view, as well as a croissant and freshly squeezed orange juice brought by a server. Such are the days of the record-label-paid junket.
Besides better digs, Metallica now have their own jet and a squad of protectors. In addition to a head of security and his assistant, each band member has his own bodyguard. I mention that the last time I was with the band, it was merely a two-man security detail. Now, the head of the force explains each musician is worth such a vast sum of money—not only in his own right, but to their record label and other business interests, that there’s no choice. Plus, there are routinely threats made against them, and security sends photos of people who are known stalkers to upcoming-show venues about a month in advance of the band’s appearances—common practice for superstar artists.
Despite their security cadre, it’s fashion week in Milan, and somehow groups of young models are able to slip by the elite team to get backstage post-show at the Mediolanum Forum, where I’m conducting interviews with the guys after having been elevated by a performance that mixes classics with gritty new Load songs like “Cure.” That’s about trying to let go of the held-in pain from life’s trials—nearly an avocation for Hetfield at the time. Load’s sound is closer to Metallica than Kill ’Em All, for sure, but the band is still clearly holding nothing back. There’s a stunt built into this tour’s show, where a roadie in a flame-resistant suit pretends to catch fire in a stage accident. The first time I see the flaming man running across the stage, I fall for it, as does the record company publicist who’s with me. But the crowd’s in on the joke and cheers, providing me relief. Still, it seems questionable, or at least ironic, after the band’s history with pyro.
“Every town I’m in, I have to get local dirt on my boots for good luck.”—James Hetfield
Good fortune and superstardom aside, most band members seem essentially the same people as a decade before. Lars is still gregarious and opinionated, Kirk is thoughtful and friendly, Jason is reserved and a bit standoffish—maybe because he still seems like a cousin in a band of brothers. Musically, despite the new, post-Metallica flavor of the songs, they’re mostly working the same modus operandi, too—although Hammett and Newsted have been granted more creative freedom in the studio than on earlier Metallica albums, which were essentially the James and Lars show. “The big change for me actually started on the …And Justice for All tour, where the changes with all these different time signatures became an exercise in trying not to fuck up,” Lars offers. “When I listen to tapes from the Black Album tour, even though we were playing in a new, simplified style, the tempos still sound pretty rampant to me in some places.
But things seem different with James. Despite his obvious introspection, he seems less reserved, more open, far more cheerful than one would assume from listening to his lyrics or from, later, watching Some Kind of Monster. Our conversation veers from songwriting to developing character in song lyrics to blues to cars, and even to Tom Waits, whose work he admires and whose aesthetic he’s a little jealous of. “Sometimes, it sounds like he just pushed a button and goes ‘good enough,’” he says, smiling. Trying to break character and be spontaneous himself, Hetfield had completed the lyrics for nearly 30 songs for the Load sessions, and he is feeling good about it. And everyone in Metallica has cut back on alcohol. And they are clearly—with the possible exception of Newsted, due to his station in the band and a neck injury from too much head-banging—having fun.
Lady Justice was a fixture on Metallica’s …And Justice for All tour, where the band’s penchant for complex time signature changes really came to the fore.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
The next night, I’m hanging out in the offices of the PalaStampa arena in Turin, Italy, talking with Hetfield again, and running tape, when I notice what looks like a cat box filled with dirt inside the makeshift dressing room. I’d seen it the night before in Milan, too.
“James, did someone bring their cat on tour?”
“I’m the cat, man.”
“What?”
“I’m the cat. On Lollapalooza, I got into this thing: My stage boots were too clean when I first got them. ‘Fuck,’ I figured, ‘I better dirty them up.’ So every night before I went onstage I kind of kicked them around in the dirt. It became kind of a ritual. Every town I’m in, I have to get local dirt on my boots for good luck. That was fine at Lollapalooza, ’cause you’re outdoors everywhere. But here, I have to have somebody bring me some dirt.”
I haven’t connected with Metallica personally in the decades since, partly because I dropped out of full-time journalism and did very few in-person interviews during the 18 years when I was touring with my own bands. But I still deeply connect with their music, and I will always respect any artist who relishes getting in the dirt.
James Hetfield today, on the 72 Seasons tour at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro, Massachusetts.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
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Classic counterpoint techniques that work for surf.
Intermediate
Intermediate
• Learn some time-honored guidelines of classical composition.
• Apply revered rules to more modern styles.
• Create interesting and complex surf lines.The term counterpoint scares many people who think it is a carefully devised process that strips you of creative freedom. This is partly true, because some individuals have pushed the practice of counterpoint as strict rules at some point without explaining its purpose. I disagree with the view that music theory is a rule. Counterpoint, like serialism or any other principle of harmony, is simply a recipe for an expected result. These music theory recipes are not baking recipes where exact measurements must be made; music theory is more like cooking, which is more malleable and open to in-the-moment modifications.
Species Counterpoint
Why was counterpoint invented? Counterpoint has two primary goals: first, to ensure parts are singable, and second, to keep each “voice” independent. Let’s discuss the intervals aspect first. Some intervals are challenging to sing. Tritones, for instance, are not easy for even professional singers to hear and sing when sight reading. Even when time is spent with a piece, getting used to tritones takes a bit of digestion. (This is the main reason tritones were avoided for so long in music. Music was primarily vocal-based for quite some time, such as in 16th century Italian composer Giovanni Palestrina’s music. Carelessly placing tritones would make the music very difficult to sing.) With guitar, we don’t have to hear the notes before we play. We should, but it’s not required (and sometimes that’s what gets us in trouble). The species counterpoint recipe is designed to avoid certain dissonant intervals that are not approached by step. In other words, we don’t jump to or from a dissonance.
When music changed and new instruments became available, the recipes of species counterpoint changed, which makes sense as the limitations of hearing a note weren’t as much of an issue. As baroque composer and theorist Johann Joseph Fuchs proposed, the series counterpoint method is a recipe that places us in a particular time in history. By understanding and using the recipe of series counterpoint, we can connect with the rich musical tradition of the past.
Independence
During this same period, one of the main ingredients of music was that each “voice” (soprano, alto, tenor, bass) was to remain independent. You should be able to hear the journey of each voice on its own. The recipes for counterpoint ensure we maintain independence. Playing two 5ths in succession or two octaves in succession sounds unified and thus makes us lose independence. Using counterpoint, we can ensure that we don’t weave in and out of independent and unified sounds. In the era of early counterpoint, say the Palestrina era, composers didn’t think in terms of a predetermined chord progression. They thought about each line and made sure they merged in harmony. The music was written horizontally to ensure the lines didn’t crash or lose independence. This is considerably different from how we often make music in the rock genres of the 20th century. Bach started incorporating the thought of a “vertical” chord progression. Even before the 20th century, the recipes for counterpoint had evolved. But the evolution didn’t make the earlier recipes irrelevant; it added more options to our recipe book.
Voice Leading
Another critical thing about counterpoint is the movement from one note to another. This is similar to the earlier discussion about intervals that are hard to sing. Voice leading is a crucial aspect of counterpoint. It’s the art of connecting one note to another, whether in a single line or with chords. It ensures that our musical lines flow smoothly, guiding the listener’s ear through the composition. Writing a herky-jerky line that jumps all over the place makes it hard to sing. The art of voice leading is writing lines to feel and sound like they unfold and take us on a ride, but not a ride on a road ridden with potholes—think of a newly paved road on a highway. Counterpoint instills in us how to create even motion. So, when you want to create unrest and a feeling of a jerky experience, you’re applying intentionally.
Power of Suggestion
Counterpoint rules are not strict guidelines but rather flexible recipes or suggestions. Composers have always been free to write what they wanted (well, aside from political and religious oppression), using counterpoint to enhance their compositions, and many composers have experimented with expanding the counterpoint recipes. There are times when we need an expected result. This is when you can use tools to help you achieve that outcome. Although counterpoint was most popular in eras that have long since passed, it still holds significant value in our modern music industry. Its recipes, while evolving, continue to provide a solid foundation for contemporary music composition.
Broken Traditions
At some point, composers grew weary of the sounds they had heard for many years and started expanding. They stopped caring about losing the independence of voices and used parallel 5ths and octaves. Sometimes, they stopped caring about voice leading and wrote pointillistic music. Composers even started composing with noise (such as John Cage), or experimenting with electronic means of composition (Delia Derbyshire and Karlheinz Stockhausen). However, counterpoint still existed, and many of these composers, even though they strayed from some of the recipes, still deeply understood its structure, such as Arnold Schoenberg, who invented a system to avoid tonal harmony.
Lesson
I will give you more than just a dry recipe for species counterpoint in this lesson. Instead, I’ll focus on key elements that can be directly applied to your rock and pop compositions, making your music more dynamic and interesting. For each of these examples, I will live in the land of surf music, one of my favorite genres.
Imitation
In fugues, which are species counterpoint-based, we use something called imitation. Imagine we have two guitarists. Guitarist 1 plays a riff or melodic phrase, and then Guitarist 2 plays that same riff right after Guitarist 1 finishes. Guitar 2 is imitating Guitar 1. However, we can adjust the octave and pitches on which the imitation starts to add more variety to its performance.
For Ex. 1, I created a three-measure phrase for guitar 1 that I will imitate in measure two with Guitar 2. Guitar 2 is an exact copycat of Guitar 1, but they don’t play the part at the same time.
Ex. 2: For this example, I will drop the imitation for Guitar 2 an octave lower.
Ex. 3 is where the fun begins. As I mentioned earlier, we can start on different pitches for our imitation. If the theme (measures one through three) implies a key signature (we’re using the key of E minor for each of these examples to keep it simple), we can imply another key for the imitation but keep the same interval relationship and shape of the theme. We will outline the V chord (Bm) for measures four through six. The result is a conversation between two instruments that can move through a chord progression in a song or a couple of key centers for variety. We can use the same idea with guitar and bass or any other combination of instruments.
In counterpoint, we call the first riff or melodic phrase the “theme.” You may wonder what Guitar 1 is supposed to do while Guitar 2 (or in my recorded examples, bass) imitates the first riff. We have two options: One is to play free—you devise a harmony that works on top of the riff, but you don’t have to play this harmony on every imitation. It’s just an accompaniment that happens at that given time, as in Ex. 4a. Ex. 4b uses the same free accompaniment but moves bars four through six to B minor.
The second option is a countertheme. You can write a second riff that plays every time the imitation plays. The theme and countertheme are interconnected. They swap parts back and forth, as we see in Ex. 5a. Ex. 5b uses the same free accompaniment but moves bars four, five, and six to the key of B minor.
We already have a fruit-bearing tree. This technique prolongs material, using the same parts to lengthen and ornament the music you’re making. Johann Sebastian Bach was a master of this, and I highly recommend studying his music if you like imitation, canons, and fugues.
Consonance and Dissonance
Okay, now that you understand the basic concepts of imitation, theme, and countertheme, it’s time to start digging deeper into the concepts of harmony and voice leading. For counterpoint, we have two categories for interval organization. Consonant intervals are unisons, 3rds, 5ths, 6ths, and octaves. We also have dissonant intervals, such as 2nds, 4ths, and 7ths. Ex. 6 features consonant intervals, Ex. 7, dissonant.
In counterpoint, we only use dissonant intervals step by step. We never jump into them or leave them by leap. Jumping into dissonances can be off-putting. Yes, there are times when you want that sound, but there is a difference between knowing how to use dissonance and using dissonance that isn’t working. Ex. 8 is an example of jumping into dissonance. Many guitarists don’t know how to deal with dissonance when soloing, and songwriters sometimes can’t hear poorly approached dissonance when writing melodies. I know … it sure sounds like I’m talking about rules here! But really, it’s about using tools to achieve a desired result or fixing issues rather than strict regulations.
Strong Beats
In classical music, beat 1 is the strongest in the bar, followed by beat 3, the second strongest. Beats 2 and 4 are the strong beats in jazz. We will focus on beat 1 as the strong beat right now. It’s generally essential that beat 1 of each measure is consonant. The recipe states not to use dissonance on strong beats. There is more tolerance for dissonance on weak beats (2 and 4).
This means we must have an overview of our lines and how they meet at each bar on beat 1 (and beat 3). Beats 1 and 3 should be consonant using a unison, 3rd, 5th, 6th, or octave. Using species counterpoint allows us to tell a functional harmony story more clearly, making the story more apparent to the listener.
The Dreaded Parallel Perfect Intervals
If your head isn’t already spinning, get ready. Earlier, I mentioned that we want to maintain independence with each line in the counterpoint. We don’t want to hear them collapse into each other. Unisons, perfect 5ths, and octaves are perfect intervals. They are the most unified-sounding intervals, which means you lose the most independence when using them. Using two back-to-back octaves is a parallel motion of a perfect interval. This means the line’s independence is wholly lost, which we want to avoid in counterpoint. For this reason, we avoid placing parallel perfect 5ths and octaves successive to each other and adjacent strong beats. Check out Ex. 9 to hear parallel octaves and Ex. 10 for parallel 5ths. Bear in mind, of course, that some genres and periods completely disregard this, such as minimalism.
Shapes of Things
We have most of the basics laid out, except one more topic regarding the independence of lines. We want to maintain the independence of the line with interval choice rather than the direction of each line. When we think of musical lines, we want each line to have its own journey but not unfavorably crash into the other. To achieve this, we want each line to have a different shape and follow each other in parallel motion. We have options for variety.
1. Parallel motion: Each line moves in the same direction with perfect intervals (Ex. 11).
2. Similar motion: Each line moves in the same direction with constant intervals (Ex. 12).
3. Oblique motion: When one voice stays in the same position, the other voice moves (Ex. 13).
4. Contrary motion: When both lines move in opposite directions, offering the most independence (Ex. 14).
The idea is to have a variety of shapes to maintain independence of direction.
Final Thoughts
I know this is a lot to take in. Studying counterpoint is no small task. But I hope that this introductory lesson into the concepts of counterpoint illuminates its power as both a creative tool and a troubleshooting device for composing and building solos. Understanding counterpoint means only sometimes considering it in the composition process. You can write as you always do, but if something doesn’t sound right, it’s much easier and faster to diagnose and fix the problem. There are times when composing with counterpoint in mind can be a fantastic tool. It’s up to you to decide when to use the creative recipe.
See and hear Taylor’s Legacy Collection guitars played by his successor, Andy Powers.
Last year, Taylor Guitars capped its 50th Anniversary by introducing a new guitar collection celebrating the contributions of co-founders Bob Taylor and Kurt Listug to the guitar world. The Legacy Collection revives five of Bob Taylor’s classic acoustic models, curated by the legendary luthier and innovator himself. “To imagine that we’re doing guitars that harken to our past, our present and our future all at the same time,” Bob says, “I really like that.”
In developing the collection, Bob preserved the essence of his originals while integrating performance and playability upgrades introduced during his tenure as designer-in-chief. “It’s an up-to-date version of what those guitars would be,” Bob explains, “but with the same sound.”
Visually, these guitars feel classic—clean, understated and unmistakably Taylor. While Bob’s original aesthetic preferences are showcased in his Legacy models, the nod to the past runs deeper than trade dress.
From his earliest builds, Bob favored slim-profile necks because he found them easier to play. That preference set a design precedent that established Taylor’s reputation for smooth-playing, comfortable necks. Legacy models feature slim mahogany necks built with Taylor's patented New Technology (NT) design. “My first neck was a bolted-on neck but not an NT neck,” Bob says. “These are NT necks because it’s a better neck.” Introduced in 1999, the NT neck allowed for unprecedented micro-adjustability while offering a consistent, hand-friendly Taylor playing experience.
What makes this collection unique within the Taylor line is Bob’s use of his X-bracing architecture, favoring his time-tested internal voicing framework over more recent Taylor bracing innovations to evoke a distinctive tone profile. Since Andy Powers—Taylor’s current Chief Guitar Designer, President and CEO—debuted his patented V-Class bracing in 2018, V-Class has become a staple in Taylor’s premium-performance guitars. Still, Bob’s X-bracing pattern produces a richly textured sound with pleasing volume, balance and clarity that long defined the Taylor voice. All Legacy models feature LR Baggs VTC Element electronics, which Bob says “harkens back to those days.”
The team at Taylor thought the best way to demonstrate the sound of the Legacy guitars was to ask Andy Powers, Bob’s successor, to play them. A world-class luthier and musician, Andy has spent the past 14 years leading Taylor’s guitar innovation. In addition to V-Class bracing, his contributions include the Grand Pacific body style, the ultra-refined Builder’s Edition Collection, and most recently, the stunning Gold Label Collection.
Below you’ll find a series of videos that feature Powers playing each Legacy model along with information about the guitars.
Legacy 800 Series Models
First launched in 1975, the 800 Series was Taylor’s first official guitar series. Today, it remains home to some of the brand’s most acclaimed instruments, including the flagship 814ce, Builder’s Edition 814ce and new Gold Label 814e.
The Legacy 800 Series features the 810e Dreadnought and two Jumbos: the 6-string 815e and 12-string 855e. Each model serves up a refined version of the Dreadnought and Jumbo body shapes Bob inherited from Sam Radding—the original owner of the American Dream music shop where Bob and Kurt first met. “I was making my guitars in the molds that Sam had made at American Dream,” Bob recalls. “There was a Jumbo and a Dreadnought. That’s all we had.”
All three Legacy 800 Series guitars feature one of Bob’s favorite tonewood combos. Solid Indian rosewood back and sides are paired with a Sitka spruce top, yielding warm lows, clear trebles and a scooped midrange.
Aesthetic appointments include a three-ring abalone rosette, mother-of-pearl Large Diamond inlays, white binding around the body and fretboard, and Bob’s “straight-ear” peghead design. Both Jumbo models also showcase a mustache-style ebony bridge—a nod to Bob’s early Jumbo builds.
Legacy 810e
The 810 Dreadnought holds a special place in Bob Taylor’s heart. “My first 810, the one I made for myself, was a thrilling guitar for me to make,” he says. “It’s the one and only guitar I played. It didn’t matter how many guitars we made at Taylor, that’s the one I took out and played.” The Legacy 810e brings back that bold, room-filling Dreadnought voice along with the easy playability expected from a Taylor.
Taylor Guitars | Legacy 810e | Playthrough Demo
Legacy 855e
Taylor’s first 12-strings found an audience in 1970s Los Angeles. “I was making guitars that would find their way to McCabe’s in Santa Monica and Westwood Music,” Bob says, “and these guitars were easy to play. Twelve-strings were a popular sound in that music. It was a modern country/folk/rock music genre that was accepting our guitars because they were easy to play. They also liked the sound of them because our guitars were easier to record.” The Legacy 855e, with its resonant Jumbo body, slim neck and gorgeous octave sparkle, carries that tradition forward.
Taylor Guitars | Legacy 855e | Playthrough Demo
Legacy 815e
The Legacy 815e revives Taylor’s original Jumbo 6-string, delivering a big, lush sound with beautifully blooming overtones.
Legacy Grand Auditoriums
In the early 1990s, Bob Taylor heard a consistent refrain from dealers: “Not everybody wants a dreadnought guitar anymore.” Players were asking for something with comparable volume but different proportions—something more comfortable, yet still powerful. This feedback inspired Bob to design a new body style with more elegant curves, more accommodating proportions and a balanced tonal response. The result was the Grand Auditorium, which Taylor introduced in 1994 to celebrate its 20th anniversary.
Thanks to its musical versatility and easy playability, Bob’s Grand Auditorium attracted a wide variety of players. “We came into our own with our Grand Auditorium,” he says. “People were describing it as ‘all around.’ It’s a good strummer and good for fingerstyle, but it’s not totally geared toward strumming or totally geared toward fingerstyle.” Also referred to as the “Swiss-Army Knife” of guitars or the “Goldilocks” guitar, the GA quickly became a favorite among guitarists across playing styles, musical genres and different playing applications including recording and live performance. “That guitar made studio work successful,” Bob says. It gained a wider fanbase with the debut of the “ce” version, which introduced a Venetian cutaway and onboard electronics. “That became one of our hallmarks,” says Bob. “If you want to plug in your guitar, buy a Taylor.”
Today, the Grand Auditorium is Taylor’s best-selling body shape.
The Legacy Collection features two cedar-top Grand Auditoriums inspired by past favorites: the mahogany/cedar 514ce and rosewood/cedar 714ce. Both models incorporate Bob’s original X-bracing pattern for a tonal character reminiscent of their 1990s and 2000s counterparts. Shared aesthetic details include a green abalone three-ring rosette, ebony bridge pins with green abalone dots, a faux-tortoiseshell pickguard and Taylor gold tuning machines.
Taylor Guitars | Legacy 815e | Playthrough Demo
Legacy 514ce
The Legacy 514ce features solid mahogany back and sides paired with a Western Red cedar top, yielding a punchy midrange and dry, woody sonic personality that pairs beautifully with cedar’s soft-touch sensitivity and warmth. It’s a standout choice for fingerstyle players and light strummers who crave nuance and depth. Distinct visual details include faux-tortoise body and fretboard binding, black-and-white top trim, and mother-of-pearl small diamond fretboard inlays.
Taylor Guitars | Legacy 514ce | Playthrough Demo
Legacy 714ce
The Legacy 714ce also features a cedar top, this time matched with solid Indian rosewood back and sides. The result is a richly textured sound with deep lows, clear trebles and a warm, mellow response. Inspiring as it is, this specific wood pairing isn’t currently offered in any other standard Taylor model. Additional aesthetic details include green abalone dot fretboard inlays, black body and fretboard binding, and black-and-white “pinstripe” body purfling.
While the Legacy Collection spotlights Taylor’s past, newer models from the Gold Label, Builder’s Edition and Somos Collections show the company’s legacy is always evolving. Explore the Legacy Collection at taylorguitars.com or visit your local authorized Taylor dealer.
Taylor Guitars | Legacy 714ce | Playthrough Demo
The Oceans Abyss expands on Electro-Harmonix’s highly acclaimed reverb technology to deliver a truly immersive effects workstation. The pedal is centered around dual reverb engines that are independently programmable with full-stereo algorithms including Hall, Spring, Shimmer and more. Place these reverbs into a customizable signal path with additional FX blocks like Delay, Chorus, Tremolo, or Bit Crusher for a completely unique soundscape building experience.
Electro-Harmonix has paved the way for powerful, accessible reverbs since the release of the original Holy Grail and now we’ve pushed the envelope deeper with the fully-equipped Oceans Abyss. Featuring a customizable signal path with up to 8 effects blocks, the Oceans Abyss can be configured as individual reverb, modulation, EQ, delay, bit crusher, saturation or volume effects, or as countless combinations for incredibly creative effect shaping. From a simple Spring reverb to a lush stereo field featuring stereo hall and shimmer reverbs, chorus, delay, overdrive, and tremolo, you can go from surf to shoegaze instantly, without breaking a sweat.
Deep parameter editing is accessible via the high-visibility OLED display with multiple graphical views and easy-to-read designs. Expression/CV control over nearly every parameter gives artful control of your effects and dynamics. Fully-stereo I/O plus an FX Loop allows for use with any instrument, recording set up, or live rig. 128 programmable presets via onboard footswitching or MIDI ensure perfect recall in all performance situations. MIDI IN/OUT ports with MIDI IN support of PC, CC, and Tempo Clock expand the already immense talents of the Oceans Abyss. Connect with UBS-C to Windows or Mac for effects editing, preset management, and more with the free EHXport™ app (coming soon).
- Two Stereo Reverbs available at once, each fully pannable in the stereo field
- 10 reverb types to choose from: Room, Hall, Spring, Plate, Reverse, Dynamic, Auto-Infinite, Shimmer, Polyphonic, Resonant
- Additional FX blocks: Delay (Digital, Analog and Tape emulations), Tremolo, Chorus, Flanger, Phaser, Graphic EQ, Saturation, Bit Crusher, External FX Loop, Volume
- Create custom signal path routing with up to 8 effects blocks. Two blocks may be re-verb, the rest may be any of the additional FX blocks.
- Infinite reverb sustain with the press of a footswitch
- Stereo Audio I/O
- Stereo FX Loop routing on TRS Jacks
- Dual action footswitches allow for momentary or latching use
- Easily enable or disable tails
- 128 fully customizable presets
- All controls can be saved to presets
- Dive deep into global and preset settings to set up Oceans Abyss for your specific needs
- Illuminated slide pots and buttons
- High-visibility OLED graphical display
- Multiple graphical views: Signal Path, Performance, Settings, Physical, Explorer
- Easy-to-navigate menu system
- Ergonomic NavCoder knob allows rotary and directional navigation through menus
- EXPRESSION / CV input to control nearly any parameter in any FX block
- Footswitch input allows for adding up to three external footswitches, each assigna-ble to a number of functions
- MIDI In and Out. MIDI IN supports PC, CC (over nearly every available parameter), and Tempo Clock
- USB-C port to connect to Windows or Mac and interface with EHXport™ app (coming soon)
- 96kHz / 24-bit sample rate conversion
- Supplied with 9.6VDC / 500mA power supply
Our columnist’s silver-panel Fender Bandmaster.
How this longstanding, classic tube amp design evolved from its introduction in 1953.
I have a silver-panel Bandmaster Reverb that I don’t think I’ve talked about enough in this column. It’s one of the most versatile and flexible amps I own, so I use it for everything. It’s portable, has tube-driven reverb and tremolo, and has a full set of EQ knobs including the critical bright switch, which we discussed the importance of earlier this year (“How to ‘Trebleshoot’ a Vintage Fender Amp,” March 2025). The amp is not only pedal-friendly; the flexible 4-ohm output impedance will handle almost all speaker configurations and sound any way you’d like. Let’s take a deeper look at the Fender Bandmaster amp and walk through its development through the years.
The first Bandmaster was introduced in 1953 as a wide-panel tweed amp with Fender’s 5C7 circuit. This rare combo was loaded with a single 15" Jensen P15N and powered by dual 6L6GC tubes in push-pull configuration to produce a modest 25 watts. The 6L6GCs were cathode biased and along with the 5U4GB rectifier tube contributed to a forgiving sag, early breakup, and a midrange-y voice.
Fender made several changes when they launched that amp’s successor in 1955, the more widely known 5E7 narrow-panel Bandmaster, a well-proven amp that has come back as a reissue model. It was still a dual-channel amp—instrument and microphone—but the newer 5E7 model had a fixed bias and a negative feedback loop, providing a louder, firmer, and cleaner tone. Most importantly, the single 15" speaker was replaced by three 10" speakers, making it very similar to the narrow-panel tweed Bassman, the granddaddy of all Marshall amps. This Bandmaster had three speakers instead of the Bassman’s four, and it delivered 25–30 watts instead of 40. It offered early breakup with a midrange-y, big and full tone.
For those not acquainted with tweed amps, the volume and EQ knobs behave differently than on silver- and black-panel Fender amps. The volume pot can act like a distortion control, while the EQ knobs control the volume, and many players I’ve talked to have not really unlocked this secret. This works because, in these circuits, the volume pot sits right before the preamp tube, which allows it to push the tube into full distortion. Since the EQ pots are located right after and are capable of reducing the volume, you’re able to distort the preamp at low volume settings.
“Things became more standardized in 1964 with the arrival of the black-panel AB763 Bandmaster, an amp I have worked on a lot and appreciate for its robustness, simplicity, and versatility.”
In 1960, a short-lived and rare Bandmaster dressed in brown tolex and a black faceplate appeared with the 5G7 circuit. From here on, all Bandmasters had the modern top-mounted chassis. With this circuit, the Bandmaster started to both look and sound more like a black-panel amp. It kept the 3x10" speakers but got a diode rectifier and bigger transformers resulting in a 45-watt output. Tremolo was introduced for the first time, and both channels were now intended for guitar.
The following year, a blonde 6G7 Bandmaster followed as a smaller amp head paired with a 1x12 extension cabinet. It had the timeless early blonde looks with cream tolex, brown faceplate, oxblood grill cloth, large Fender logo, and white knobs. But halfway into the blonde era, towards 1964, things turned strange and rather confusing. There were suddenly two 12" speakers, black knobs, a wheat-colored grill cloth, a more slim black-panel-style Fender logo, a black faceplate, and all in various combinations close to the transition into ’64.
Things became more standardized in 1964 with the arrival of the black-panel AB763 Bandmaster, an amp I have worked on a lot and appreciate for its robustness, simplicity, and versatility. It offers a pure, clean, scooped black-panel tone that’s somewhere between a Vibrolux Reverb and Pro Reverb, which share the medium-sized 125A6A output transformer and dual 6L6GC tubes. With its medium/high power and flexible 4-ohm output impedance, it can drive all kinds of speaker cabinets—as long as you stay between 2 and 8 ohms, you are safe.
For a short time in 1967–68, there was a transitional Bandmaster with aluminum trim and black-panel innards before the all-new silver-panel Bandmaster Reverb replaced it in 1968. The small-head cabinet had grown in size and, unfortunately, weight to accommodate the reverb tank. The amp got a 5U4GB rectifier tube along with a few general silver-panel changes to the circuit. Several silver-panel models existed with minor differences until a 70-watt beast version came along in 1977 with master volume.
To my own 1968 Bandmaster Reverb, I have done a few adjustments. First, I made a custom baffle to hold two 8" speakers. I installed a pair of WGS G8C speakers that fit perfectly on the baffle board without colliding with the reverb tank or transformers. Sometimes, I use only one of the 8" speakers for bedroom volume levels. Second, I reversed the bias circuitry to standard AB763 specs, making it easier to adjust bias correctly on both power tubes. If you are into sparkling clean and funky Strat sounds, you would love this little 2x8" combo.