
Premier Guitar talks to certified music therapists across the U.S. about their specialized approaches to using guitar as an instrument of healing.
Over the course of just two months, guitarist Tom Peterson from Cincinnati, Ohio, was diagnosed with testicular cancer and lost both his job and the unborn child that he and his wife had been expecting—their first. The one bright spot that year came at Christmastime, when Peterson received a special gift from his family: a PRS Mira that has since become the prize of his guitar collection for reasons difficult to quantify.
"You never think that this inanimate object is going to have such a mental connection with you and get you through your darkest hours," Peterson shared in PG's Conversations in the Key of Life podcast ("Episode 3: Guitar as Therapy," June 2016).
"I can't tell you how many times—especially dealing with the post-traumatic-stress aspect of things, when the triggers come around—that I've just picked up the Mira, laid on my back, and plunked around on it. Nothing in particular … just me and the guitar. When you feel like your body can't move on to do anything else, it seems like the music—that connection—drives you just for that brief moment while you're contemplating that next string bend. You forget everything else."
But beyond the scores of untold private battles like Peterson's, where music becomes both shield and weapon against encroaching darkness, there are many other instances where guitar has played a more oblique role in therapy, whether through 6-string stars playing benefits for rehab centers, selling their instruments and donating the proceeds, or, in Eric Clapton's case, both. Anecdotes and superstars aside, the guitar has found a more institutional place in the healing process through the relatively new field of music therapy.
Roots and Branches
To get an overview and history of music therapy and understand the guitar's place in it, we chatted with health professionals who administer this treatment on a daily basis. One such person is Dr. Robert Krout, professor and director of music therapy in the Meadows School of the Arts at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas. Krout also teaches guitar online and has taught at the National Guitar Workshop, as well as guitar workshops around the world.
"Music therapy as a profession started in 1950," explains Krout. "You use music-based experiences in the relationship with the therapist to help achieve desired health outcomes, whether they be physical goals, social rehabilitation, helping with developmental issues, and so on."
Krout notes that people are usually referred to a music therapist by a psychiatrist, nurse, social worker, or health insurance company. The therapist then conducts a comprehensive assessment to see if the referred individual might benefit from music therapy. "The patient doesn't necessarily have to be able to play or sing," says Krout, "but the therapist would assess whether music might be beneficial for them based on their needs, and also based on how they respond to music either actively or passively."
Potential music-therapy beneficiaries run the gamut from parents anticipating an addition to their family to individuals who've recently lost a loved one—and all sorts of related situations in between: Krout works with expectant mothers and couples in Lamaze training, using music to help with the timing of contractions. He also works with patients who are nearing the end of their lives or are in hospice care. Music therapy can also help bereaved siblings, spouses, children, grandchildren, and other survivors with grief healing. Meanwhile, music can often stimulate forgotten memories or buried emotions in patients with Alzheimer's or cognitive impairments. Music therapy can also be a great way to communicate with children on the autism spectrum, especially those who are nonverbal.
"I work with people with eating disorders, and often they have a series of verbal defenses that shield them from how they're feeling. When we do music-based experiences, many of those defenses fall away and they have an emotional reaction to the music—even when they try not to." —Dr. Robert Krout
The work that Dr. Krout and others are doing with music therapy is often effective where other forms of therapy have come up short—for instance, with clients who lack the verbal skills to benefit from talk-based therapy. Further, it can often make inroads with patients who have highly developed verbal skills that have, for one reason or another, proved an impediment to treatment.
"I work with people with eating disorders, and often they have a series of verbal defenses that shield them from how they're feeling," says Krout. "When we do music-based experiences, many of those defenses fall away and they have an emotional reaction to the music—even when they try not to. We can sometimes use that emotional reaction to take the discussion deeper into some of the issues they're facing."
Music therapy has been found to be very helpful in treating post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), particularly that suffered by troops returning from combat. Thanks to George Hauer—whose organization Operation: Music Aid supplies thousands of musical instruments to recovering military and armed forces personnel—we chatted with music therapist Bobbi Blake about her experience working with veterans at a VA medical center in Connecticut. She began by explaining that music therapy had its beginnings in the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs system after World War II.
"They found when they played music for the veterans it was very helpful in calming them down and soothing them," Blake says. "They started to investigate it more, and that began the music-therapy research in the '50s. There has been extensive research ever since. Now, they're doing neurological work on how music affects the brain. In working with veterans with PTSD, I'm trying to use music to help engage their coping skills and self-expression."
Like patients with eating disorders, PTSD patients often have a hard time expressing the multitude of profound, overwhelming feelings bubbling just beneath the surface. They can become socially isolated or be fearful of being around other people, crowds, and trying new things.
"Bringing them together to play music is a wonderful way to have them be with other people in a safe place and learn a skill that's going to help them with anxiety, mood swings, and relaxation," she adds.
Music therapy can play an important role in treating those with substance addictions. Paul Pellinger, one of the founders of Recovery Unplugged (a Florida-based rehab center), uses music to engage clients in different ways. For example, the center organizes live performances by famous musicians, who share stories and songs related to their own issues with drug addiction and alcoholism.
The program incorporates music as early as the pre-assessment process. Before being accepted, a prospective client is asked about his or her favorite genre of music. "If they say, 'classic rock,' I'll ask if there is a particular song that describes their life," says Pellinger. "When I pick them up [to bring them to the center], I have that song playing in the van. Right away, rapport is established and they feel heard versus being yelled at. When they get to our facility, we don't have to deal with a two-week adjustment to the new environment."
Like people with PTSD or eating disorders, many addicts have trouble accessing their emotions. But music can often be a gateway through those mental walls. "Identifying what you think or feel is an obstacle for most people in general, and it's especially difficult for addicts—but I guarantee you somebody has written a song about it," Pellinger says. "We often let song lyrics be the catalyst to verbalize what's going on. We're using music not only to engage the clients, but also to make recovery more of a payoff than using drugs. If you look at [a scan of] the brain after somebody takes a hit of crack cocaine, it lights up similar to how it does after hearing a simple chord change."
Guitar in Therapy
Dr. Robert Krout from Southern Methodist University (center) poses with a class that includes special-needs students at the Hope Town School on Elbow Cay island in the Bahamas.
When music therapy began in 1950, it traditionally employed piano as the accompanying instrument. But at the same time, electric and acoustic guitars were becoming mainstream instruments. Guitar gained more popularity and began to be used, in part, because it was portable. As a teacher of guitar, Krout has a unique view on the instrument's special place in music therapy.
"Clients of different ages and needs are very attracted to the guitar—the look of it and sound of it," he says. "I've worked with emotionally disturbed teenagers who normally would not have any reason to relate to me, but if I walk in with a Fender Stratocaster they relate to that. So the guitar can be used as the go-between. I do a lot of songwriting for music therapy, and the acoustic guitar is a musical instrument I can hold while sitting across from the client. They relate to the guitar, which creates a therapeutic space, and then we can safely do other things with singing, lyric discussion, or songwriting. With autism, it might be the way the guitar smells. A person with a psychiatric syndrome might have played guitar when they were younger, before the disease took over, and they connect to that."
To maximize effectiveness, Krout adapts his choices of instrument and songs to the background of the patient. For example, if a patient is a baby boomer, he may rely on the guitar-based music of the '60s. Meanwhile, if radio hits from the 1950s were the soundtrack of his nursing-home patients' youth, Krout might use Buddy Holly songs as an emotional connection.
The guitar also figures prominently in Blake's work with the Connecticut VA health system. Perhaps the country's best-known nonprofit working with veterans via the 6-string is Guitars for Vets, which provides a free guitar and lessons to veterans through local chapters set up all over the country from its base in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. In contrast, Blake's Six Strings for Soldiers program is much smaller and locally focused, with more of an emphasis on the music-therapy side than on the guitar-centric aspects.
"With an instructor, the primary concern is about instrumental skills, like teaching someone how to play chords, rhythms, or notes," she says. "I'm more concerned about how playing guitar is helping them with their coping skills and stress."
Blake says one of the most rewarding parts of working with Six Strings for Soldiers is that patients use what they've learned when they return home. If they start to get anxious, they pick up the guitar and it calms them. She also finds that even small improvements in learning the instrument quickly reward patients with increased self-esteem.
"Within four weeks it's possible to teach somebody how to play some I-IV-V chord songs," says Blake. "And to accomplish that is very exciting! Guitar is, of course, very complicated to play well—as any instrument is—but for a beginner it's very accessible. It can be particularly effective with isolation issues. It's empowering for socially isolated and fearful PTSD patients when they walk around with a guitar, because it's like walking a dog. People say, 'That's a nice dog' or 'What kind of dog is that?' Similarly, they say, 'You play guitar?' The patient may then say, 'Well, I'm learning,' and it encourages a conversation."
When they leave our facility, we don't just give them a certificate and coin and tell them not to drink, and to go to meetings." —Paul Pellinger
Meanwhile, Pellinger from Recovery Unplugged—which has centers in Austin, Texas, and Fort Lauderdale—has yet another perspective. As the center's name implies, acoustic guitar figures prominently in its treatments. Three or four guitarists work full-time with the program. One of the musicians on staff is Richie Supa, a songwriter who has worked with Gladys Knight & the Pips, Bon Jovi, and Aerosmith—and who performs acoustic sets of songs about addiction and recovery for Recovery Unplugged patients.
But Recovery Unplugged clients don't just consume music, they can also make it. The centers offer musical workshops where Supa and other staff members help interested patients learn to create songs or take their guitar playing to the next level. Recovery Unplugged even found a way for clients to take their musical experiences home after completing treatment by providing a recording studio where patients can create soundtracks of their stay. The soundtracks can be any combination of prerecorded songs they've chosen, performances they've witnessed, or tunes they've performed or written.
"When they leave our facility, we don't just give them a certificate and coin and tell them not to drink, and to go to meetings," Pellinger says. "We give them earbuds and an MP3 player. Music is used as a catalyst for recovery, whether to help them be grateful, call their sponsor, or remember the consequences of using. For instance, Richie Supa wrote a song called 'I Got This.' That's one of the things addicts say when someone asks for their car keys because they are in no shape to drive—'Go away, I got this.' The song was on the soundtrack of a client who graduated from our treatment center. He was on his way to use drugs instead of going to a meeting. He was thinking, 'I got this,' when the song reminded him he didn't have 'this' and should go to a meeting."
Of course, Recovery Unplugged isn't the only music-therapy center that celebrates the unique attributes of flattops. SMU's Krout finds that acoustic guitar can work especially well with certain patients because of the physical vibrations they feel through the back of the instrument.
"With an electric guitar, the sounds are coming out of a speaker across the room," he explains. "Sitting across from a person with an acoustic guitar, it is the vibrations that actually connect us in that moment and create the shared therapeutic space."
Despite that advantage, Krout often uses electric guitars as well. "I worked with Fender for a number of years to bring the electric guitar into music therapy," he says. "We were trying to introduce music therapists to more contemporary sounds by using electric guitar."
Even so, not everyone relates to guitar—acoustic or electric. Krout says the instrument's popularity has fallen off a bit with younger patients in recent years, as it has become less the currency of popular music—especially in the inner city, where rap and hip-hop are often the music of choice.
"With teens, often I will work from an iPad using GarageBand. I use loops with hip-hop, electro, and techno types of sounds," Krout explains. "But many times they want to be doing something active, and even if they hadn't [previously] thought about being a guitarist, if I've got a guitar and they see me playing along with a GarageBand track, it might be attractive to them. I'm working with a young man now from India who is into Bollywood movies and soundtracks. We're working on guitar with very simple chords in the context of a huge Bollywood arrangement. It may just be guitar chords, but it feels like Bollywood to him."
Get Involved
For guitarists wanting to explore career alternatives that involve music and guitar, music therapy is a path worth considering. Therapists must meet educational and clinical training requirements set up by the American Music Therapy Association (AMTA). Graduates must take and pass a comprehensive exam administered by the Certification Board for Music Therapists in order to become certified music therapists (MT-BC), which qualifies them to work as a member of treatment teams in schools, hospitals, or nursing homes.
"You don't have to be a doctor or go to medical school, though you will learn about some medical conditions in a music-therapy program," says Blake, who achieved certification in the aforementioned manner. "It's music training combined with psychology." She adds that, just as medical doctors often specialize in certain areas, music therapists can, too. "I work at a VA hospital with veterans. Other therapists work with the elderly, kids with autism, pain management, people who are developmentally disabled, and so on. Depending on what you choose as a specialty, you may need advanced training to be able to work with that population."
According to the AMTA, music therapists must have a bachelor's degree or higher in music therapy from one of AMTA's 72 approved colleges and universities. They must also complete 1,200 hours of clinical training. Some states also require a license for board-certified music therapists.
Premier Guitar readers know the big and small ways in which playing guitar and listening to music can be therapeutic. The admirable work of music-therapy practitioners like Krout, Blake, and Pellinger is but a small sample of how the instrument we love is helping countless others.
[Updated 11/12/21]
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Columnist Janek Gwizdala with heroes Dennis Chambers (left) and Mike Stern (right).
Keeping your gigging commitments can be tough, especially when faced with a call from a hero. But it’s always the right choice.
Saying “yes!” to everything early on has put me in a place now where I can say no to almost everything and still be okay. That wasn’t without its challenges. I’d like to share a story about a “yes” that would haunt me for years.
As bass players, we can, if we choose, quite easily find ourselves in a wide variety of situations without having to change much about our sound or our playing. If your time is good and you’re able to help those around you feel good and sound better, the telephone will pretty much always ring.
Playing jazz as an electric-bass player living in New York City from 2000 to 2010 was somewhat of a fool’s errand in terms of getting work. No one wanted electric bass, and bandleaders would go to the bottom of a list of 100 upright players before they would even think about calling you. Not only that, but I wasn’t even at the top of the electric list when I first moved there. Not even close. Anthony Jackson, Richard Bona, Will Lee, Tim Lefebvre, James Genus, Lincoln Goines, Mike Pope, John Benitez, Matthew Garrison—that’s a who’s who of the instrument when I first moved to town, and I was very much a freshman with almost no experience. Almost…
I’d been lucky enough to play extensively with Kenwood Dennard (Jaco’s drummer), and a little with Hiram Bullock (Jaco’s guitarist) before moving to NYC which helped create a little momentum, but only a VERY little.
This is where the story begins:
I’d sent Mike Stern a demo back in late ’97. He’d not only taken the time to listen to it but had called my parents’ house right after I moved to the U.S. to tell me he loved it and wanted to hang. I missed the call but eventually met him at a clinic he gave at Berklee.
Of course, I was buzzing about all of this. It helped me stay laser-focused on practice and on moving to NYC as soon as possible. I got the typical “look me up when you get to town” invitation from Stern and basically counted the seconds through the three semesters I stayed at Berklee until I could split town.
I arrived with a ton of confidence but zero gigs. And nothing happened overnight. It really took saying yes to literally everything I was offered just to keep a roof over my head. Through that process, I felt like I was getting further away from playing with my jazz heroes.
The early gigs were far from glamorous—long hours, terrible pay, and sometimes, after travel expenses, they cost me money to play.
“Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroes—the reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do.”
When Stern finally called, a few years into living in NYC, things started to move pretty quickly. I began playing a lot of gigs at the 55 Bar with him, and short road trips became a thing—a four-night stint at Arturo Sandoval’s new club in Miami, gigs in Chicago, Cleveland, and upstate New York, and then some international work, including a tour of Mexico and a trip to Brazil, if I remember right.
But the hardest phone call of my career came from Mike not long into my time touring with him. It went something like this:
“Hey man, what’s your scene in April? Lincoln can’t make a trip to the West Coast. It’s just one gig. Trio… with DENNIS CHAMBERS.”
Mike didn’t shout Dennis’ name, but that’s how I heard it. My all-time hero. Someone I’d been dreaming about playing with for over 15 years. And here’s the kicker: I had to say no.
I’d just committed to six weeks with Jojo Mayer’s band Nerve in Asia and Europe, and there was no way I could bail on him. And there was no way I could afford to ditch six weeks of work for a single gig with Mike. To say that haunted me for years is an understatement. I was destroyed that I had to turn it down.
The tour with Jojo was amazing—the posters hang in my studio as a reminder of those times to this day. And thankfully, I was able to go on some years later and play dozens of shows with Mike and Dennis all over the world—truly some of the highlights of my career.
I still think about that phone call, though. Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroes—the reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do. I get emotional writing and thinking about it even now. But I've learned to never have regrets and understand you just have to believe in the process and maintain the willpower to continue—no matter what.
$149
Marshall 1959 Super Lead
The very definition of classic, vintage Marshall sound in a highly affordable package.
There’s only one relevant question about Marshall’s new 1959 Super Lead overdrive/distortion pedal: Does it sound like an actual vintage Super Lead head? The answer is, simply and surprisingly, yes. The significant difference I heard within the voice of this stomp, which I ran through a Carr Vincent and a StewMac Valve Factory 18 kit amp for contrast, is that it’s a lot quieter than my 1972 Super Lead.
The Super Lead, which bore Marshall’s 1959 model number, debuted in 1965 and was the amp that defined the plexi sound. That sound is here in spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts. Like the Super Lead, the pedal is easy to use. The original’s 3-band EQ is replaced by a single, rangeful tone control. The normal dial and the volume, which together mimic the character created by jumping the first and second channels of a plexi head, offer smooth, rich, buttery op-amp driven gain and loudness. And the high-treble dial functions much like the presence control on the original amp.
The pedal is sturdy and handsome, too. A heavy-duty metal enclosure evokes the classic black-with-gold-plate plexi look and a vintage-grille-cloth motif. Switches and knobs (the latter with rubber sides for slip-free turning) are ultra solid, and—refreshingly—there’s a 9V battery option in addition to a barrel-pin connection. Whether with single-coils or humbuckers, getting beefy, sustained, historic tones took moments. I especially delighted in approximating my favorite Super Lead head setting by flooring the high treble, normal, and tone dials, and turning back the tone pots on my Flying V, evoking Disraeli Gears-era Clapton tone. That alone, to me, makes the 1959 Super Lead stomp a bargain at $149.The Miku was introduced about 10 years ago and is based on the vocal stylings of Hatsune Miku, a virtual pop icon. But it does much more than artificial vowels and high-pitched words.
It’s tempting to think of this pedal as a joke. Don’t.
It all started a few years ago through a trade with a friend. I just wanted to help him out—he really wanted to get a fuzz pedal but didn’t have enough cash, so he offered up the Korg Miku. I had no idea then, but it turned out to be the best trade I’ve ever made.
Here’s the truth: the Korg Miku is not your typical guitar pedal. It won’t boost your mids, sculpt your gain, or serve up that warm, buttery overdrive you’ve always worshipped. Nope. This little box does something entirely different: It sings! Yes, sings in a Japanese kawaii accent that’s based on the signature voice of virtual pop icon Hatsune Miku.
At first glance, it’s tempting to dismiss this pedal as just a gimmick—a joke, a collector’s oddity, the kind of thing you buy for fun and then forget next to your Hello Kitty Strat. But here’s the twist: Some take it seriously and I’m one of those people.
I play in a punk band called Cakrux, and lately I’ve been working with a member of a Japanese idol-style girl group—yeah, it’s exactly the kind of wild mashup you’d ever imagine. Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, the Miku found its way into my setup, and weirdly enough, it stuck. It’s quirky, beautiful, occasionally maddening, and somehow … just right. After plenty of time spent in rehearsals, studio takes, and more sonic experiments than I care to admit, I’ve come to appreciate this pedal in unexpected ways. So here are a few things you probably didn’t know about this delightfully strange little box.
It’s Not Organic—and That’s OK
Most guitar pedals are chasing something real. Wah pedals mimic the human voice—or even a trumpet. Tube Screamers? They’re built to recreate the warm push of an overdriven tube amp. Cab sims aim to replicate the tone of real-world speaker setups. But the Miku? It breaks the mold. Instead of emulating reality, it channels the voice of a fictional pop icon. Hatsune Miku isn’t a person—she’s a vocaloid, a fully digital creation made of samples and synthesis. The Miku doesn’t try to sound organic, it tries to sound like her. In that sense, it might be the only pedal trying to reproduce something that never existed in the physical world. And honestly, there’s something oddly poetic about that.
A World-Class Buffer
Here’s a fun fact: I once saw a big-name Indonesian session guitarist—you know, the kind who plays in sold-out arenas—with a Miku pedal on his board. I was like, “No way this guy’s busting out vocaloid lines mid-solo.” Plot twist: He only uses it for the buffer. Yep, the man swears by it and says it’s the best-sounding buffer he’s ever plugged into. I laughed … until I tried it. And honestly? He’s not wrong. Even if you never hear Miku sing a note, this pedal still deserves a spot on your board. Just for the tone mojo alone. Wild, right?
“The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn’t work for your music, but somehow, it just does.”
Impossible to Tame
Most pedals are built to make your life easier. The Miku? Not so much. This thing demands patience—and maybe a little spiritual surrender. First off, the tracking can be finicky, especially if you’re using low-output pickups. Latency becomes really noticeable and your picking dynamics suddenly matter a lot more. Then there’s the golden rule I learned the hard way. Never—ever—put anything before the Miku. No fuzz, no wah, no compressor, not even a buffer! It gets confused instantly and says “What is going on here?” And don’t even think about punching in while recording. The vocal results are so unpredictable, you’ll never get the same sound twice. Mess up halfway? You’re starting from scratch. Same setup, same take, same chaotic energy. It’s like trying to recreate a fever dream. Good luck with that.
Full Range = Full Power
Sure, it’s made for guitar, but the Miku really comes to life when you run it through a keyboard amp, bass cab, or even a full-range speaker. Why? Because her voice covers way more frequency range than a regular guitar speaker can handle. Plug it into a PA system or a bass rig, and everything sounds clearer, richer, way more expressive. It’s like letting Hatsune Miku out of her cage.
The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn't work for your music, but somehow, it just does. Is it the best pedal out there? Nah. Is it practical? Not by a long shot. But every time I plug it in, I can’t help but smile. It’s unpredictable, a little wild, and it feels like you’re jamming in the middle of a bizarre Isekai anime scene. And honestly, that’s what makes it fun.
This thing used to go for less than $100. Now? It’s fetching many times that. Is it worth the price? That’s up to you. But for me, the Korg Miku isn’t just another pedal—it’s a strange, delightful journey I’m glad I didn’t skip. No regrets here.
Two guitars, two amps, and two people is all it takes to bring the noise.
The day before they played the coveted Blue Room at Third Man Records in Nashville, the Washington, D.C.-based garage-punk duo Teen Mortgage released their debut record, Devil Ultrasonic Dream. Not a bad couple of days for a young band.
PG’s Chris Kies caught up with guitarist and vocalist James Guile at the Blue Room to find out how he builds the band’s bombastic guitar attack.
Brought to you by D’Addario.
Devilish Dunable
Guile has been known to use Telecasters and Gretsches in the past, but this time out he’s sticking with this Dunable Cyclops DE, courtesy of Gwarsenio Hall—aka Jordan Olds of metal-themed comedy talk show Two Minutes to Late Night. Guile digs the Dunable’s lightness on his shoulders, and its balance of high and low frequencies.
Storm Warning
What does Guile like about this Squier Cyclone? Simple: its color. This one is also nice and easy on the back, and Guile picked it up from Atomic Music in Beltsville, Maryland.
Crushing It
Guile also scooped this Music Man 410-HD from Atomic, which he got just for this tour for a pretty sweet deal. It runs alongside an Orange Crush Bass 100 to rumble out the low end.
James Guile’s Pedalboard
The Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and Hiwatt Filter Fuzz MkII run to the Orange, while everything else—a DigiTech Whammy, Pro Co Lil’ RAT, and Death by Audio Echo Dream 2—runs to the Music Man. A TC Helicon Mic Mechanic is on board for vocal assistance, and a TC Electronic PolyTune 3, Morley ABY, and Voodoo Labs Pedal Power 3 Plus keep the ship afloat.