Armed with a handful of road-tested tunes, a go-for-broke attitude, and a new level of chemistry, newgrass’ most progressive guitarist makes a statement with Maybe Believe.
There is an informal battle between tradition and innovation in nearly every genre of music. Over the last decade or so, bluegrass and Americana have developed more of an independent streak with acts like the Punch Brothers, the Infamous Stringdusters, and the Jon Stickley Trio. Each of these acts combines tradition with innovation in their own way, but don’t sacrifice the integrity of their genre. Stickley’s trio with violinist Lyndsay Pruett and drummer Patrick Armitage is not a traditional bluegrass group by any means. Many times when they show up to festivals, Armitage is the only drummer on the bill. However, they are just nimble and ambitious enough to navigate EDM-style breakbeats as effortlessly as the old timey standard “Blackberry Blossom.”
Stickley grew up in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, with a punk rock heart and a bluegrass soul. The bustling college town offered Stickley the prism he needed to make these somewhat disparate musical worlds come together. He was drawn towards the immediacy and fierceness that populated the town’s indie-rock scene. “I loved bands like Superchunk, Archers of Loaf, and Spatula,” says Stickley. “They were such off-the-wall bands compared to anything I had ever heard. It was out of tune, wonky, but technical and artsy while being catchy and melodic in a weird, off-kilter way.”
The chops Stickley demonstrates on the new Maybe Believe, his trio’s second studio album produced by Dave King of the Bad Plus, might suggest he spent much of his formative years hanging out picking at bluegrass festivals, but the truth is that he was rather late to the genre’s bandwagon. “I remember the first MerleFest I went to, I saw a young Chris Thile. That kind of blew my mind,” Stickley says. At the time, Stickley was taking lessons with a local guitar guru named Hawksi Pope. Through those lessons, he got more into acoustic music and started to play open mics around town with his brother, Jeff, and banjo player Andy Thorn, who has since gone on to play with many jamgrass groups, including Leftover Salmon. “The warm spirit of the bluegrass music scene really attracted me. The summer after high school, I was just obsessed.”
Naturally, the punk rock side of Stickley had to make amends with his newfound love for bluegrass. The Stickley brothers and Thorn then formed Crawdad PA, a bluegrass group that saw Jon move to mandolin. “That was my first bluegrass band,” says Stickley. “We didn’t know too many bluegrass songs, so we just started playing this Dead Milkmen song, ‘Dean’s Dream’ for fun.” The “wrong genre” approach that Stickley stumbled into has become somewhat of a cornerstone of his style. Although his group is well versed in the standard repertoire of old-time bluegrass, they don’t let those perceptions limit their creativity.
In 2012, after serving time in several regional bluegrass groups, Stickley felt it was time to move out on his own. “I needed something to do,” says Stickley. “[Leaving the band Town Mountain] forced me into that role.” Originally, the Jon Stickley Band consisted of a more traditional bluegrass lineup, but thanks to a last-minute call for a gig, the trio concept was born. “I couldn’t get a bass player, but I could get a fiddle player. My roommate Ryan Oslance was a drummer, so that was the first time I ever did a drums/violin/guitar trio.”
It was through Lyndsay Pruett that Stickley connected with the trio’s current drummer, Patrick Armitage. The group had been asked to open some shows for the Infamous Stringdusters in Colorado, and Stickley was in a pinch. “I called him up while I was on tour with Woody Pines. I had never met him or heard him play at all,” laughs Stickley. Once Stickley returned to North Carolina, he had a few rehearsals with the group and off they went. “He was kinda in the same position, just looking for a gig. As soon as we decided, ‘Hey, let’s do this,’ he was in.” We caught up with Stickley right before another leg of the group’s seemingly endless tour to discuss his approach to composition, the pros of playing a relic’d guitar, and just exactly how an Aphex Twin song landed on the new album.
It seems like there’s a thread of mixing up styles and genres throughout your last few records.
You’re exactly right. When I started early on, it was a very unconscious thing. It wasn’t until I started the trio and started to rely more on my own songwriting—basically just needing material and thinking, “Ok, what kind of song should we do now?” That got me thinking back to what’s always drawn me to music. How can I tie some of those elements in? I would start thinking about different rhythms, drumbeats, and chord progressions, that maybe wouldn’t be typically bluegrass-y. Maybe like punk or emo. And then you start to notice the similarities and you go, “Oh, this has the same chords as ‘Wagon Wheel.’”
You’ve tipped your hat to Tony Rice a few times throughout your career with tunes like “Rice Dream” and “Stickey Rice.” When did he become an influence on your playing?
It happened right after high school. I think that’s a time when your brain can really latch onto things. What really drew me in was the first David Grisman Quintet album. Andy had it, and I was learning mandolin at the time. The sound of that album and the lead track, “E.M.D,” is such an important recording. Everything about it is so deep in so many ways and was a total game changer. That’s ground zero for me, as far as new acoustic music. One of the first places I looked to try and learn some bluegrass licks was Tony Rice’s playing on the Grisman albums. Then I learned some Tony Rice bluegrass solos with tab. If you’ve got the muscle memory of certain licks down you can fit those in a lot of different places. Over time, I’ve really come to love the style, taste, and general vibe that Tony Rice has. They stand apart in this completely different world to me from almost everything I’ve ever heard.
The trio is really the first group where you’ve planted your musical flag.
You’re right. I’ve never really thought about it like that. The first solo gigs that I started doing were just a bluegrass band where I played guitar and sang. Then I would usually get bass, mandolin, and banjo or fiddle. I had a couple of original tunes that I had written. On my first solo album, Lions, I had written a handful of instrumentals. My good friend Ryan Oslance, who was living with me at the time and a great drummer, had a crazy, progressive, avant-garde, jazz-rock duo in Asheville called Ahleuchatistas. He was also playing some gigs with me and [banjo player and singer] Shannon Whitworth every now and then. We were just jamming one day and I had put together a bar gig.
Stickley’s modest pedalboard allows him to create lush, layered soundscapes with the TC Electronic Ditto, groovy basslines with the MicroPOG, and get super trippy with the Boss DD-3 Digital Delay.
Was that the lineup for the first trio album?
Well, we had started playing shows with Ryan and then he went to Europe with this other band and kinda stayed indefinitely. I had already booked the studio time to do the album and I wasn’t that upset with it because it was such an early thing. We got Mike Ashworth, who is the drummer in the Steep Canyon Rangers now. He was just a guy I knew in town and he came and played drums on the first trio record [2012’s JS3]. He’s got a super-chill, unique style that really adds a lot to that record.
What was the transition between him and Patrick?
Mike never really joined the band. We were asked to go to Colorado and play a run of gigs opening for the Infamous Stringdusters, and Ryan wasn’t available for some reason, so I asked Lyndsey in a pinch about who we should get. She had just played a gig with Patrick. I was like, “It just needs to work for this tour. Let’s see how it goes.” We only had to learn eight or nine tunes. It went well and we love Pat.
These last two albums seem really connected. You used the same studio, producer, and engineer. However, in a promo video you described the experiences as being very different. Why is that?
I’d say the main thing was that Lost at Last was the first album we’d ever done with Patrick. We started tracking the morning after we met [producer] Dave King for the first time. Patrick had known him, but we’d never met him. It was also the first time we tried to recreate what we did live in the studio. The first trio album was more of an acoustic-picking record with drums. There were very minimal effects and we hadn’t been doing the “bass” thing yet, with the pedals. It was a big figuring-out process in a lot of ways, with different personalities and all. Also, we were just trying to think through if we should play it all live or just track it. When we went in for this album two years later, there was a very intimate connection between the band members, a really strong connection with Dave King, and of course [engineer] Julian Dryer’s familiarity with recording and mixing us. It was night and day. We walked in and did first takes on five songs.
These songs had been road tested a bit, right?
Yeah. That’s the other major difference. We purposely started writing music about a year out from when we were recording this record. A lot of those songs got to grow and develop. There was also some loose sketches of tunes that we wanted to work up in the studio. We wanted to collaborate and develop those ideas once we got into the studio with Dave because we wanted him to have a strong hand in the arrangements.
So there was probably an extra layer of trust with him at this point.
Exactly. I was kind of intimidated by him when he came in, of course, but that went away fast. He is an enormous personality, but I tell you what, I love that guy. He is one of the most kind, humble, good-energied, youthful-spirited dudes ever. He has this Yoda-type personality that’s so wise and grounded and wide open and hilarious. You don’t even get that from his Rational Funk [instructional drum] videos. We grew to love him and he’s a big fan of the band and actually likes us. Going into this one with that relationship with Dave was so much fun.
Maybe Believe was recorded at Echo Mountain Recording with the same crew that was on the group’s previous album, Lost at Last. Left to right: Stickley, violinist Lyndsay Pruett, engineer Julian Dryer, producer Dave King, and drummer Patrick Armitage. Photo by Ken Voltz
The fact that you brought in a drummer to help the drums fit in makes total sense.
I think we wanted the drums to be more of an element. Not just guitar and violin playing along to a groove, even though Patrick is a groove-oriented drummer. We wanted it to be more dynamic and make sure the drums have as much of a presence and personality of the other two instruments. One of the things I love so much about Pat is that he keeps the foundation so strong.
On “Jewels,” your touch with harmonics is so spot-on. How did you develop that technique?
That’s a sound that I really like to make when I’m just noodling around. I don’t do as much of the Lenny Breau-style of harmonics. The natural harmonics at the 5th, 7th, and 12th frets can be played louder because you can pick it really hard with your right hand and just mute with your left hand. I focus on those spots. You can make a nice pentatonic melody with those. Once I figured out how to fret notes around that, I focused more on that technique.
Jon Stickley’s Gear
Guitars
• 1956 Martin D-18
Amps
• Vintage Supro
Effects
• Electro-Harmonix MicroPOG
• Boss DD-3 Digital Delay
• Electro-Harmonix Holy Grail Nano
• TC Electronic Ditto Looper
• Boss TU-2 Chromatic Tuner
Strings and Picks
• D’Addario EJ17 (.013–.056)
• BlueChip picks
• L.R. Baggs Venue DI
“Jewels” is such a delicate song and an unexpected choice for an opener.
It wasn’t the original plan, but it made sense once I started to work on the track listing. Dave came up with the idea of opening with that. It’s the most chill song on Lost at Last and I just wasn’t ready for that yet. It’s funny, if you listen to a lot of Bad Plus albums, they often start with a very slow, calm song and then go into something faster. “Jewels” was planned as an interlude between two songs, but when the track list took shape, I heard it more as a short, calming opener that could draw you in a little bit.
“Playpeople” evokes the classic sound of the trio with danceable beats, big riffs, and plenty of fiddle. How did you craft that arrangement?
That is one of those tunes where there are a few different parts done a few different ways—a few different times. That’s another one I wrote based on the drumbeat, and I got the idea for that beat from the new Blink-182 record. It was one of those amazing Travis Barker beats, and the opening drone bassline reminded me of “She” from Green Day’s Dookie. It’s kind of a tribute to that. It also demonstrated the next step in the trio and the next step in my writing, where I’m thinking more about the arrangement while I’m making the demo. They listen to it and we get together and come up with a working arrangement, which usually takes us two or three hours. Everyone really has a hand in the song even though I usually come up with the basic melody and idea.
So there’s no real chart writing? Is it all done aurally?
Definitely. I did recently get a whiteboard and some markers that we used to make our little diagram of the song when we rehearse. Other than that, we just do it by ear. A lot of times I use the mandolin to come up with the idea of a potential fiddle part. I just like to do as much work ahead of time as possible. Sometimes Lyndsey will play that exact thing and other times it’s completely different.
Did you use your old Martin on the album?
I did. It’s a ’56 D-18 and it’s getting pretty worn. I’m working on finding a replacement so I don’t have to bring it on the road all the time.
With another vintage Martin?
No. I want something that I don’t have to worry about as much. There’s a company in Hillsboro, North Carolina, called Pre-War Guitars and they are making relic’d copies of pre-war Martins. One of the other things they do is make a replica. I’m entertaining the idea of making a replica of my ’56. They look amazing and you can pick the level of relic’ing. Maybe some people would get upset about it for some reason, but I think it’s awesome. To me, looks matter. I don’t want a crystal-clean white Adirondack spruce top on my guitar. Traveling with those guitars is scary.
What is your pedal situation like?
We cut the record with only our “bass” pedals. I’ve got the [Electro-Harmonix] MicroPOG, and Lyndsay uses the POG2. The POG2 is cool for her because she can drop it down two octaves and get this enormous bass sound from this tiny, little high-pitched violin. The Micro is good for me because it’s very simple and just drops me down an octave. That’s really the effect that we lean on the most. Live, all I have other than that is a Boss Digital Delay, [Electro-Harmonix] Holy Grail Reverb, and a [TC Electronic] Ditto Looper. I don’t use the Ditto for any in-time looping, but I use it to make soundscape transitions between songs. We used just the studio’s reverb on the album and then a real Echoplex for some of the crazy stuff.
What amps did you use in the studio?
I was using a vintage Supro and Lyndsay plugged into a cranked Hiwatt half stack. She also uses the [Electro-Harmonix] Soul Food overdrive and loves it. I’m thinking about getting one, too. I used to use the overdrive out of my amp and it sounded horrible. That Soul Food is so smooth and warm. I can’t remember what we used for Lost at Last, but she didn’t use the Hiwatt. I might have used the same Supro amp. It was cool walking into that amp room and hearing her wail through that Hiwatt. When we recorded, we sent out three signals: stereo mics on the instruments in the room, a direct line, and a line from the amp. For each tune, we had three sounds and we would lean a little heavier on different ones for different songs.
“Jerusalem Ridge” sounds like the album’s traditional bluegrass homage.
We were, very intentionally, looking for a traditional bluegrass homage. Lyndsey was the one who thought “Jerusalem Ridge” would be cool. I thought if it resonated with her, then it sounds good to me. I’ve never loved the song that much, but I thought in the long form it would give us a chance to arrange it and make it exciting and new. It’s got a little bit of that death-metal shred vibe, too.
The Aphex Twin song, “Avril 14th,” was a complete surprise.
In a way, it’s maybe a small little tribute to Dave King, because they [the Bad Plus] did that Aphex tune, “Flim.” That’s always been one of my favorite Bad Plus covers. This might sound a little contrived, but we were looking for a cross-genre cover that we could do to maybe bring in some more ears and connect to an element of music that we all listen to that is not very bluegrass.
Was “Cecil” another song that started from the groove?
That was one of the very loosely arranged ideas that we came into the studio with. The drums on the album are completely different and reworked from the demo. It was more of like a techno-dance beat instead of this sludgy half-time thing. Dave King said it sounded like a bar mitzvah soundtrack from My Big Fat Greek Wedding or something. He didn’t say it in a cutting way, but he said we should switch it up. Dave suggested playing this Bad Brains-style, insanely fast punk beat over it. He actually came in and played the beat with Lyndsay and I and that was extremely fun. Then Patrick got back in there and tried it, but that type of beat is something that he would never do. He’s not a punk drummer. Then Dave came in and suggested something slower in a more John Bonham style, and Pat jumped all over that.
Do you write on the road or do you need to devote specific time to writing?
I would love to do a writing retreat someday, where you go on a vacation in a cabin. But I just can’t seem to get away to do that—yet. For me, songs don’t just pop out of my head. It’s like little homework assignments for me. I will go away into a room on tour and use my iPad because it’s so simple. You can see why kids love it so much. You just touch things with your finger and it works. I don’t have to type keys and the technology doesn’t interfere with the process as much.
Are you just using GarageBand for demos?
Yeah, just GarageBand. I make tracks and demos based on little audio notes from my phone. I make notes on my phone when I have ideas and then, when I have the space to sit down and try to write a song, I’ll go back and listen to those clips. You know that song, “Mt. Sandia Swing?” We were in Albuquerque and we just hiked Mt. Sandia and Julianne [Stickley, Jon’s wife] was like, “Jon, you need to write a song and y’all need to practice it and learn it today.” I went into the room and started to go through the audio files and that song was based on a drumbeat that I had recorded Patrick playing at soundcheck. Of course, I had forgotten about it, but I found it on my phone. I recreated that beat with the fingerstyle drum set in GarageBand and just started jamming out to it.
It’s interesting, because it’s not really a “swing” tune.
Right, but it does have that cymbal thing, though. That’s why I love that beat so much: because it’s so weird and cool. It’s like this death-metal-meets-swing thing.
Almost like bluegrass blast beats.
Dave King said that song sounded like the Violent Femmes playing jazz. It was a first take and it just had this wild energy. We didn’t get a chance to really overthink what we were going to play on that. I didn’t need to put a Charlie Parker lick in there.
YouTube It
In this hour-long set from the Kennedy Center in August 2016, Stickley’s trio hits all the bases: uptempo dance beats, intricate guitar/violin melodies, and plenty of newgrass soul.
Throughout his over-30-year career, Keith Urban has been known more as a songwriter than a guitarist. Here, he shares about his new release, High, and sheds light on all that went into the path that led him to becoming one of today’s most celebrated country artists.
There are superstars of country and rock, chart-toppers, and guitar heroes. Then there’s Keith Urban. His two dozen No. 1 singles and boatloads of awards may not eclipse George Strait or Garth Brooks, but he’s steadily transcending the notion of what it means to be a country star.
He’s in the Songwriters Hall of Fame. He’s won 13 Country Music Association Awards, nine CMT video awards, eight ARIA (Australian Recording Industry Association) Awards, four American Music Awards, and racked up BMI Country Awards for 25 different singles.
He’s been a judge on American Idol and The Voice. In conjunction with Yamaha, he has his own brand of affordably priced Urban guitars and amps, and he has posted beginner guitar lessons on YouTube. His 2014 Academy of Country Music Award-winning video for “Highways Don’t Care” featured Tim McGraw and Keith’s former opening act, Taylor Swift. Add his marriage to fellow Aussie, the actress Nicole Kidman, and he’s seen enough red carpet to cover a football field.
Significantly, his four Grammys were all for Country Male Vocal Performance. A constant refrain among newcomers is, “and he’s a really good guitar player,” as if by surprise or an afterthought. Especially onstage, his chops are in full force. There are country elements, to be sure, but rock, blues, and pop influences like Mark Knopfler are front and center.
Unafraid to push the envelope, 2020’s The Speed of Now Part 1 mixed drum machines, processed vocals, and a duet with Pink with his “ganjo”—an instrument constructed of a 6-string guitar neck on a banjo body—and even a didgeridoo. It, too, shot to No. 1 on the Billboard Country chart and climbed to No. 7 on the pop chart.
His new release, High, is more down-to-earth, but is not without a few wrinkles. He employs an EBow on “Messed Up As Me” and, on “Wildfire,” makes use of a sequencerreminiscent of ZZ Top’s “Legs.” Background vocals in “Straight Lines” imitate a horn section, and this time out he duets on “Go Home W U” with rising country star Lainey Wilson. The video for “Heart Like a Hometown” is full of home movies and family photos of a young Urban dwarfed by even a 3/4-size Suzuki nylon-string.
Born Keith Urbahn (his surname’s original spelling) in New Zealand, his family moved to Queensland, Australia, when he was 2. He took up guitar at 6, two years after receiving his beloved ukulele. He released his self-titled debut album in 1991 for the Australian-only market, and moved to Nashville two years later. It wasn’t until ’97 that he put out a group effort, fronting the Ranch, and another self-titled album marked his American debut as a leader, in ’99. It eventually went platinum—a pattern that’s become almost routine.
The 57-year-old’s celebrity and wealth were hard-earned and certainly a far cry from his humble beginnings. “Australia is a very working-class country, certainly when I was growing up, and I definitely come from working-class parents,” he details. “My dad loved all the American country artists, like Johnny Cash, Haggard, Waylon. He didn’t play professionally, but before he got married he played drums in a band, and my grandfather and uncles all played instruments.
One of Urban’s biggest influences as a young guitar player was Mark Knopfler, but he was also mesmerized by lesser-known session musicians such as Albert Lee, Ian Bairnson, Reggie Young, and Ray Flacke. Here, he’s playing a 1950 Broadcaster once owned by Waylon Jennings that was a gift from Nicole Kidman, his wife.
“For me, it was a mix of that and Top 40 radio, which at the time was much more diverse than it is now. You would just hear way more genres, and Australia itself had its own, what they call Aussie pub rock—very blue-collar, hard-driving music for the testosterone-fueled teenager. Grimy, sweaty, kind of raw themes.”
A memorable event happened when he was 7. “My dad got tickets for the whole family to see Johnny Cash. He even bought us little Western shirts and bolo ties. It was amazing.”
But the ukulele he was gifted a few years earlier, at the age of 4, became a constant companion. “I think to some degree it was my version of the stuffed animal, something that was mine, and I felt safe with it. My dad said I would strum it in time to all the songs on the radio, and he told my mom, ‘He’s got rhythm. I wonder what a good age is for him to learn chords.’ My mom and dad ran a little corner store, and a lady named Sue McCarthy asked if she could put an ad in the window offering guitar lessons. They said, ‘If you teach our kid for free, we’ll put your ad in the window.’”
Yet, guitar didn’t come without problems. “With the guitar, my fingers hurt like hell,” he laughs, “and I started conveniently leaving the house whenever the guitar teacher would show up. Typical kid. I don’t wanna learn, I just wanna be able to do it. It didn’t feel like any fun. My dad called me in and went, ‘What the hell? The teacher comes here for lessons. What’s the problem?’ I said I didn’t want to do it anymore. He just said, ‘Okay, then don’t do it.’ Kind of reverse psychology, right? So I just stayed with it and persevered. Once I learned a few chords, it was the same feeling when any of us learn how to be moving on a bike with two wheels and nobody holding us up. That’s what those first chords felt like in my hands.”
Keith Urban's Gear
Urban has 13 Country Music Association Awards, nine CMT video awards, eight ARIA Awards, and four Grammys to his name—the last of which are all for Best Country Male Vocal Performance.
Guitars
For touring:
- Maton Diesel Special
- Maton EBG808TE Tommy Emmanuel Signature
- 1957 Gibson Les Paul Junior, TV yellow
- 1959 Gibson ES-345 (with Varitone turned into a master volume)
- Fender 40th Anniversary Tele, “Clarence”
- Two first-generation Fender Eric Clapton Stratocasters (One is black with DiMarzio Area ’67 pickups, standard tuning. The other is pewter gray, loaded with Fralin “real ’54” pickups, tuned down a half-step.)
- John Bolin Telecaster (has a Babicz bridge with a single humbucker and a single volume control. Standard tuning.)
- PRS Paul’s Guitar (with two of their narrowfield humbuckers. Standard tuning.)
- Yamaha Keith Urban Acoustic Guitar (with EMG ACS soundhole pickups)
- Deering “ganjo”
Amps
- Mid-’60s black-panel Fender Showman (modified by Chris Miller, with oversized transformers to power 6550 tubes; 130 watts)
- 100-watt Dumble Overdrive Special (built with reverb included)
- Two Pacific Woodworks 1x12 ported cabinets (Both are loaded with EV BlackLabel Zakk Wylde signature speakers and can handle 300 watts each.)
Effects
- Two Boss SD-1W Waza Craft Super Overdrives with different settings
- Mr. Black SuperMoon Chrome
- FXengineering RAF Mirage Compressor
- Ibanez TS9 with Tamura Mod
- Boss BD-2 Blues Driver
- J. Rockett Audio .45 Caliber Overdrive
- Pro Co RAT 2
- Radial Engineering JX44 (for guitar distribution)
- Fractal Audio Axe-Fx XL+ (for acoustic guitars)
- Two Fractal Audio Axe-Fx III (one for electric guitar, one for bass)
- Bricasti Design Model 7 Stereo Reverb Processor
- RJM Effect Gizmo (for pedal loops)
(Note: All delays, reverb, chorus, etc. is done post amp. The signal is captured with microphones first then processed by Axe-Fx and other gear.)
- Shure Axient Digital Wireless Microphone System
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario NYXL (.011–.049; electric)
- D’Addario EJ16 (.012–.053; acoustics)
- D’Addario EJ16, for ganjo (.012–.053; much thicker than a typical banjo strings)
- D’Addario 1.0 mm signature picks
He vividly remembers the first song he was able to play after “corny songs like ‘Mama’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread.’” He recalls, “There was a song I loved by the Stylistics, ‘You Make Me Feel Brand New.’ My guitar teacher brought in the sheet music, so not only did I have the words, but above them were the chords. I strummed the first chord, and went, [sings E to Am] ‘My love,’ and then minor, ‘I'll never find the words, my,’ back to the original chord, ‘love.’ Even now, I get covered in chills thinking what it felt like to sing and put that chord sequence together.”
After the nylon-string Suzuki, he got his first electric at 9. “It was an Ibanez copy of a Telecaster Custom—the classic dark walnut with the mother-of-pearl pickguard. My first Fender was a Stratocaster. I wanted one so badly. I’d just discovered Mark Knopfler, and I only wanted a red Strat, because that’s what Knopfler had. And he had a red Strat because of Hank Marvin. All roads lead to Hank!”
He clarifies, “Remember a short-lived run of guitar that Fender did around 1980–’81, simply called ‘the Strat’? I got talked into buying one of those, and the thing weighed a ton. Ridiculously heavy. But I was just smitten when it arrived. ‘Sultans of Swing’ was the first thing I played on it. ‘Oh my god! I sound a bit like Mark.’”
“Messed Up As Me” has some licks reminiscent of Knopfler. “I think he influenced a huge amount of my fingerpicking and melodic choices. I devoured those records more than any other guitar player. ‘Tunnel of Love,’ ‘Love over Gold,’ ‘Telegraph Road,’ the first Dire Straits album, and Communique. I was spellbound by Mark’s touch, tone, and melodic choice every time.”
Other influences are more obscure. “There were lots of session guitar players whose solos I was loving, but had no clue who they were,” he explains. “A good example was Ian Bairnson in the Scottish band Pilot and the Alan Parsons Project. It was only in the last handful of years that I stumbled upon him and did a deep dive, and realized he played the solo on ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush, ‘Eye in the Sky’ by Alan Parsons, ‘It’s Magic’ and ‘January’ by Pilot—all these songs that spoke to me growing up. I also feel like a lot of local-band guitar players are inspirations—they certainly were to me. They didn’t have a name, the band wasn’t famous, but when you’re 12 or 13, watching Barry Clough and guys in cover bands, it’s, ‘Man, I wish I could play like that.’”
On High, Urban keeps things song-oriented, playing short and economical solos.
In terms of country guitarists, he nods, “Again, a lot of session players whose names I didn’t know, like Reggie Young. The first names I think would be Albert Lee and Ray Flacke, whose chicken pickin’ stuff on the Ricky Skaggs records became a big influence. ‘How is he doing that?’”
Flacke played a role in a humorous juxtaposition. “I camped out to see Iron Maiden,” Urban recounts. “They’d just put out Number of the Beast, and I was a big fan. I was 15, so my hormones were raging. I’d been playing country since I was 6, 7, 8 years old. But this new heavy metal thing is totally speaking to me. So I joined a heavy metal band called Fractured Mirror, just as their guitar player. At the same time, I also discovered Ricky Skaggs and Highways and Heartaches. What is this chicken pickin’ thing? One night I was in the metal band, doing a Judas Priest song or Saxon. They threw me a solo, and through my red Strat, plugged into a Marshall stack that belonged to the lead singer, I shredded this high-distortion, chicken pickin’ solo. The lead singer looked at me like, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I got fired from the band.”
Although at 15 he “floated around different kinds of music and bands,” when he was 21 he saw John Mellencamp. “He’d just put out Lonesome Jubilee. I’d been in bands covering ‘Hurts So Good,' ‘Jack & Diane,’ and all the early shit. This record had fiddle and mandolin and acoustic guitars, wall of electrics, drums—the most amazing fusion of things. I saw that concert, and this epiphany happened so profoundly. I looked at the stage and thought, ‘Whoa! I get it. You take all your influences and make your own thing. That’s what John did. I’m not gonna think about genre; I’m gonna take all the things I love and find my way.’
“Of course, getting to Nashville with that recipe wasn’t going to fly in 1993,” he laughs. “Took me another seven-plus years to really start getting some traction in that town.”
Urban’s main amp today is a Dumble Overdrive Reverb, which used to belong to John Mayer. He also owns a bass amp that Alexander Dumble built for himself.
Photo by Jim Summaria
When it comes to “crossover” in country music, one thinks of Glen Campbell, Kenny Rogers, Garth Brooks, and Dolly Parton’s more commercial singles like “Two Doors Down.” Regarding the often polarizing subject and, indeed, what constitutes country music, it’s obvious that Urban has thought a lot—and probably been asked a lot—about the syndrome. The Speed of Now Part 1 blurs so many lines, it makes Shania Twain sound like Mother Maybelle Carter. Well, almost.
“I can’t speak for any other artists, but to me, it’s always organic,” he begins. “Anybody that’s ever seen me play live would notice that I cover a huge stylistic field of music, incorporating my influences, from country, Top 40, rock, pop, soft rock, bluegrass, real country. That’s how you get songs like ‘Kiss a Girl’—maybe more ’70s influence than anything else.”
“I think [Mark Knopfler] influenced a huge amount of my fingerpicking and melodic choices. I devoured those records more than any other guitar player.”
Citing ’50s producers Chet Atkins and Owen Bradley, who moved the genre from hillbilly to the more sophisticated countrypolitan, Keith argues, “In the history of country music, this is exactly the same as it has always been. Patsy Cline doing ‘Walking After Midnight’ or ‘Crazy’; it ain’t Bob Wills. It ain’t Hank Williams. It’s a new sound, drawing on pop elements. That’s the 1950s, and it has never changed. I’ve always seen country like a lung, that expands outwards because it embraces new sounds, new artists, new fusions, to find a bigger audience. Then it feels, ‘We’ve lost our way. Holy crap, I don’t even know who we are,’ and it shrinks back down again. Because a purist in the traditional sense comes along, whether it be Ricky Skaggs or Randy Travis. The only thing that I think has changed is there’s portals now for everything, which didn’t used to exist. There isn’t one central control area that would yell at everybody, ‘You’ve got to bring it back to the center.’ I don’t know that we have that center anymore.”
Stating his position regarding the current crop of talent, he reflects, “To someone who says, ‘That’s not country music,’ I always go, “‘It’s not your country music; it’s somebody else’s country music.’ I don’t believe anybody has a right to say something’s not anything. It’s been amazing watching this generation actually say, ‘Can we get back to a bit of purity? Can we get real guitars and real storytelling?’ So you’ve seen the explosion of Zach Bryan and Tyler Childers who are way purer than the previous generation of country music.”
Seen performing here in 2003, Urban is celebrated mostly for his songwriting, but is also an excellent guitarist.
Photo by Steve Trager/Frank White Photo Agency
As for the actual recording process, he notes, “This always shocks people, but ‘Chattahoochee’ by Alan Jackson is all drum machine. I write songs on acoustic guitar and drum machine, or drum machine and banjo. Of course, you go into the studio and replace that with a drummer. But my very first official single, in 1999, was ‘It’s a Love Thing,’ and it literally opens with a drum loop and an acoustic guitar riff. Then the drummer comes in. But the loop never goes away, and you hear it crystal clear. I haven’t changed much about that approach.”
On the road, Urban utilizes different electrics “almost always because of different pickups—single-coil, humbucker, P-90. And then one that’s tuned down a half-step for a few songs in half-keys. Tele, Strat, Les Paul, a couple of others for color. I’ve got a John Bolin guitar that I love—the feel of it. It’s a Tele design with just one PAF, one volume knob, no tone control. It’s very light, beautifully balanced—every string, every fret, all the way up the neck. It doesn’t have a lot of tonal character of its own, so it lets my fingers do the coloring. You can feel the fingerprints of Billy Gibbons on this guitar. It’s very Billy.”
“I looked at the stage and thought, ‘Whoa! I get it. You take all your influences and make your own thing. I’m gonna take all the things I love and find my way.’”
Addressing his role as the collector, “or acquirer,” as he says, some pieces have quite a history. “I haven’t gone out specifically thinking, ‘I’m missing this from the collection.’ I feel really lucky to have a couple of very special guitars. I got Waylon Jennings’ guitar in an auction. It was one he had all through the ’70s, wrapped in the leather and the whole thing. In the ’80s, he gave it to Reggie Young, who owned it for 25 years or so and eventually put it up for auction. My wife wanted to give it to me for my birthday. I was trying to bid on it, and she made sure that I couldn’t get registered! When it arrived, I discovered it’s a 1950 Broadcaster—which is insane. I had no idea. I just wanted it because I’m a massive Waylon fan, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that guitar disappearing overseas under somebody’s bed, when it should be played.
“I also have a 1951 Nocaster, which used to belong to Tom Keifer in Cinderella. It’s the best Telecaster I’ve ever played, hands down. It has the loudest, most ferocious pickup, and the wood is amazing.”
YouTube
Urban plays a Gibson SG here at the 2023 CMT Music Awards. Wait until the end to see him show off his shred abilities.
Other favorites include “a first-year Strat, ’54, that I love, and a ’58 goldtop. I also own a ’58 ’burst, but prefer the goldtop; it’s just a bit more spanky and lively. I feel abundantly blessed with the guitars I’ve been able to own and play. And I think every guitar should be played, literally. There’s no guitar that’s too precious to be played.”
Speaking of precious, there are also a few Dumble amps that elicit “oohs” and “aahs.” “Around 2008, John Mayer had a few of them, and he wanted to part with this particular Overdrive Special head. When he told me the price, I said, ‘That sounds ludicrous.’ He said, ‘How much is your most expensive guitar?’ It was three times the value of the amp. He said, ‘So that’s one guitar. What amp are you plugging all these expensive guitars into?’ I was like, ‘Sold. I guess when you look at it that way.’ It’s just glorious. It actually highlighted some limitations in some guitars I never noticed before.”
“It’s just glorious. It actually highlighted some limitations in some guitars I never noticed before.”
Keith also developed a relationship with the late Alexander Dumble. “We emailed back and forth, a lot of just life stuff and the beautifully eccentric stuff he was known for. His vocabulary was as interesting as his tubes and harmonic understanding. My one regret is that he invited me out to the ranch many times, and I was never able to go. Right now, my main amp is an Overdrive Reverb that also used to belong to John when he was doing the John Mayer Trio. I got it years later. And I have an Odyssey, which was Alexander’s personal bass amp that he built for himself. I sent all the details to him, and he said, ‘Yeah, that’s my amp.’”
The gearhead in Keith doesn’t even mind minutiae like picks and strings. “I’ve never held picks with the pointy bit hitting the string. I have custom picks that D’Addario makes for me. They have little grippy ridges like on Dunlops and Hercos, but I have that section just placed in one corner. I can use a little bit of it on the string, or I can flip it over. During the pandemic, I decided to go down a couple of string gauges. I was getting comfortable on .009s, and I thought, ‘Great. I’ve lightened up my playing.’ Then the very first gig, I was bending the crap out of them. So I went to .010s, except for a couple of guitars that are .011s.”
As with his best albums, High is song-oriented; thus, solos are short and economical. “Growing up, I listened to songs where the guitar was just in support of that song,” he reasons. “If the song needs a two-bar break, and then you want to hear the next vocal section, that’s what it needs. If it sounds like it needs a longer guitar section, then that’s what it needs. There’s even a track called ‘Love Is Hard’ that doesn’t have any solo. It’s the first thing I’ve ever recorded in my life where I literally don’t play one instrument. Eren Cannata co-wrote it [with Shane McAnally and Justin Tranter], and I really loved the demo with him playing all the instruments. I loved it so much I just went with his acoustic guitar. I’m that much in service of the song.”
You may know the Gibson EB-6, but what you may not know is that its first iteration looked nothing like its latest.
When many guitarists first encounter Gibson’s EB-6, a rare, vintage 6-string bass, they assume it must be a response to the Fender Bass VI. And manyEB-6 basses sport an SG-style body shape, so they do look exceedingly modern. (It’s easy to imagine a stoner-rock or doom-metal band keeping one amid an arsenal of Dunables and EGCs.) But the earliest EB-6 basses didn’t look anything like SGs, and they arrived a full year before the more famous Fender.
The Gibson EB-6 was announced in 1959 and came into the world in 1960, not with a dual-horn body but with that of an elegant ES-335. They looked stately, with a thin, semi-hollow body, f-holes, and a sunburst finish. Our pick for this Vintage Vault column is one such first-year model, in about as original condition as you’re able to find today. “Why?” you may be asking. Well, read on....
When the EB-6 was introduced, the Bass VI was still a glimmer in Leo Fender’s eye. The real competition were the Danelectro 6-string basses that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere and were suddenly being used on lots of hit records by the likes of Elvis, Patsy Cline, and other household names. Danos like the UB-2 (introduced in ’56), the Longhorn 4623 (’58), and the Shorthorn 3612 (’58) were the earliest attempts any company made at a 6-string bass in this style: not quite a standard electric bass, not quite a guitar, nor, for that matter, quite like a baritone guitar.
The only change this vintage EB-6 features is a replacement set of Kluson tuners.
Photo by Ken Lapworth
Gibson, Fender, and others during this era would in fact call these basses “baritone guitars,” to add to our confusion today. But these vintage “baritones” were all tuned one octave below a standard guitar, with scale lengths around 30", while most modern baritones are tuned B-to-B or A-to-A and have scale lengths between 26" and 30".)
At the time, those Danelectros were instrumental to what was called the “tic-tac” bass sound of Nashville records produced by Chet Atkins, or the “click-bass” tones made out west by producer Lee Hazlewood. Gibson wanted something for this market, and the EB-6 was born.
“When the EB-6 was introduced, the Bass VI was still a glimmer in Leo Fender’s eye.”
The 30.5" scale 1960 EB-6 has a single humbucking pickup, a volume knob, a tone knob, and a small, push-button “Tone Selector Switch” that engages a treble circuit for an instant tic-tac sound. (Without engaging that switch, you get a bass-heavy tone so deep that cowboy chords will sound like a muddy mess.)
The EB-6, for better or for worse, did not unseat the Danelectros, and a November 1959 price list from Gibson hints at why: The EB-6 retailed for $340, compared to Dano price tags that ranged from $85 to $150. Only a few dozen EB-6 basses were shipped in 1960, and only 67 total are known to have been built before Gibson changed the shape to the SG style in 1962.
Most players who come across an EB-6 today think it was a response to the Fender Bass VI, but the former actually beat the latter to the market by a full year.
Photo by Ken Lapworth
It’s sad that so few were built. Sure, it was a high-end model made to achieve the novelty tic-tac sound of cheaper instruments, but in its full-voiced glory, the EB-6 has a huge potential of tones. It would sound great in our contemporary guitar era where more players are exploring baritone ranges, and where so many people got back into the Bass VI after seeing the Beatles play one in the 2021 documentary, Get Back.
It’s sadder, still, how many original-era EB-6s have been parted out in the decades since. Remember earlier when I wrote that our Vintage Vaultpick was about as original as you could find? That’s because the model’s single humbucker is a PAF, its Kluson tuners are double-line, and its knobs are identical to those on Les Paul ’Bursts. So as people repaired broken ’Bursts, converted other LPs to ’Bursts, or otherwise sought to give other Gibsons a “Golden Era” sound and look ... they often stripped these forgotten EB-6 basses for parts.
This original EB-6 is up for sale now from Reverb seller Emerald City Guitars for a $16,950 asking price at the time of writing. The only thing that isn’t original about it is a replacement set of Kluson tuners, not because its originals were stolen but just to help preserve them. (They will be included in the case.)
With so few surviving 335-style EB-6 basses, Reverb doesn’t have a ton of sales data to compare prices to. Ten years ago, a lucky buyer found a nearly original 1960 EB-6 for about $7,000. But Emerald City’s $16,950 asking price is closer to more recent examples and asking prices.
Sources: Prices on Gibson Instruments, November 1, 1959, Tony Bacon’s “Danelectro’s UB-2 and the Early Days of 6-String Basses” Reverb News article, Gruhn’s Guide to Vintage Guitars, Tom Wheeler’s American Guitars: An Illustrated History, Reverb listings and Price Guide sales data.
An '80s-era cult favorite is back.
Originally released in the 1980s, the Victory has long been a cult favorite among guitarists for its distinctive double cutaway design and excellent upper-fret access. These new models feature flexible electronics, enhanced body contours, improved weight and balance, and an Explorer headstock shape.
A Cult Classic Made Modern
The new Victory features refined body contours, improved weight and balance, and an updated headstock shape based on the popular Gibson Explorer.
Effortless Playing
With a fast-playing SlimTaper neck profile and ebony fretboard with a compound radius, the Victory delivers low action without fret buzz everywhere on the fretboard.
Flexible Electronics
The two 80s Tribute humbucker pickups are wired to push/pull master volume and tone controls for coil splitting and inner/outer coil selection when the coils are split.
For more information, please visit gibson.com.
Gibson Victory Figured Top Electric Guitar - Iguana Burst
Victory Figured Top Iguana BurstThe SDE-3 fuses the vintage digital character of the legendary Roland SDE-3000 rackmount delay into a pedalboard-friendly stompbox with a host of modern features.
Released in 1983, the Roland SDE-3000 rackmount delay was a staple for pro players of the era and remains revered for its rich analog/digital hybrid sound and distinctive modulation. BOSS reimagined this retro classic in 2023 with the acclaimed SDE-3000D and SDE-3000EVH, two wide-format pedals with stereo sound, advanced features, and expanded connectivity. The SDE-3 brings the authentic SDE-3000 vibe to a streamlined BOSS compact, enhanced with innovative creative tools for every musical style. The SDE-3 delivers evocative delay sounds that drip with warmth and musicality. The efficient panel provides the primary controls of its vintage benchmark—including delay time, feedback, and independent rate and depth knobs for the modulation—plus additional knobs for expanded sonic potential.
A wide range of tones are available, from basic mono delays and ’80s-style mod/delay combos to moody textures for ambient, chill, and lo-fi music. Along with reproducing the SDE-3000's original mono sound, the SDE-3 includes a powerful Offset knob to create interesting tones with two simultaneous delays. With one simple control, the user can instantly add a second delay to the primary delay. This provides a wealth of mono and stereo colors not available with other delay pedals, including unique doubled sounds and timed dual delays with tap tempo control. The versatile SDE-3 provides output configurations to suit any stage or studio scenario.
Two stereo modes include discrete left/right delays and a panning option for ultra-wide sounds that move across the stereo field. Dry and effect-only signals can be sent to two amps for wet/dry setups, and the direct sound can be muted for studio mixing and parallel effect rigs. The SDE-3 offers numerous control options to enhance live and studio performances. Tap tempo mode is available with a press and hold of the pedal switch, while the TRS MIDI input can be used to sync the delay time with clock signals from DAWs, pedals, and drum machines. Optional external footswitches provide on-demand access to tap tempo and a hold function for on-the-fly looping. Alternately, an expression pedal can be used to control the Level, Feedback, and Time knobs for delay mix adjustment, wild pitch effects, and dramatic self-oscillation.
The new BOSS SDE-3 Dual Delay Pedal will be available for purchase at authorized U.S. BOSS retailers in October for $219.99. To learn more, visit www.boss.info.