Ready to tweak your 6-string for maximum musical versatility?
For decades, blues and rock guitarists have been laying glass or metal cylinders across their strings to add expressive riffs to their music. Unlike a Dobro or lap steel, which is played horizontally with a bar and has its strings jacked up way off the fretboard, a standard 6-string guitar can be set up for both fretting and slide work—if you know what you're doing.
Let's explore how to finesse a guitar so its strings sit high enough to keep a slide from crashing into the frets, yet remain close enough to the fretboard that you can play chords and riffs with your fingertips. Yes, you can have it all, as Duane Allman, Johnny Winter, Sonny Landreth, Ry Cooder, Derek Trucks, and many other greats have proven over the years.
It's not too hard to set up an electric guitar for dual duties, so that's what we'll focus on. It's more of a challenge with an acoustic, but with a little ingenuity, you can also adapt the following techniques to a flattop, so read on.
Project overview.
To illustrate the steps, I'll use a 2003 Gibson Les Paul Studio (Photo 1) a client brought in to have converted into a ripping slide guitar. He wanted to stick with his moderately light .010–.049 strings so he could comp and solo as usual, but he also wanted to augment his standard riffage with slide licks when the spirit moved him.
To make this happen, I suggested he use a lightweight, straight-wall glass slide—similar to Allman and Trucks—as opposed to the heavier brass or bottleneck slides that are often favored by acoustic resonator guitarists. Why? Using a lightweight slide, such as a Dunlop Derek Trucks Signature medicine bottle or the aluminum BigHeart Firecracker, makes it possible to use slinkier strings and keep the action reasonably low. Heavier slides can sound great, but they demand stouter strings and stiffer action. A light slide allows you to find that sweet spot in your setup where you can use the same guitar for two very different techniques.
Preliminary measurements.
Photo 2
The first step is to measure three things: action at the 12th fret, neck relief, and string height at the 1st fret. These measurements will provide a baseline to work from.
Here's the process: To measure the action, first tune to pitch (this is crucial) and then place a capo on top of the 1st fret. Next use a precision metal ruler to measure the string height at the 12th fret. I use a String Action Gauge—a handy tool from Stewart MacDonald—(Photo 2) for this. You want to determine the distance between the top of the 12th fret and the bottom of both the 6th and 1st strings.
Photo 3
On this Les Paul, the gap was 3/64" for the 1st string and 4/64" for the 6th. This action is comfortable for my client, but too low for slide.
Now to measure the amount of relief. With the capo still on the 1st fret, hold down the 6th string at the last fret and measure the greatest distance between the bottom of the string and the top of the frets (Photo 3).
On my client's guitar, the relief was .012"—perfect for his current playing style and also fine for supporting a lightweight slide. If your guitar has less relief, you may need to loosen the truss rod very slightly to introduce a tad more forward bow. (Read "Time for a Neck Adjustment?" to learn more about working with a truss rod.) But before you take that route, first complete the setup I'm about to describe. It's quite possible these steps will be all you'll need to enter the slide zone.
Photo 4
Next, remove the capo (it wouldn't hurt to confirm your strings are still at pitch) and measure the height of the 1st and 6th strings at the 1st fret (Photo 4).
In this case, the height was 1/64" and 2/64" for the 1st and 6th strings, respectively. While this is ideal for fretting chords and lines, it's too low for playing slide.
From these preliminary measurements, I was able to determine what would be required to give this Les Paul its new dual identity:
- Raise the action at the bridge and then adjust individual saddles.
- Raise the action at the nut by either shimming the stock nut or carving a new one.
- Adjust the pickups to balance string-to-string volume.
- Adjust the intonation.
Adjust the bridge.
To raise the action on a Les Paul's Tune-o-matic bridge, turn the thumbwheels counter-clockwise (Photo 5). Do this in small increments, perhaps a quarter of a rotation for each thumbwheel. Retune the guitar, put a capo on the 1st fret, and then measure the action at the 12th fret again.
For starters, I suggest adjusting the action to 4/64" on both the 1st and 6th strings. Remember, you can always come back and raise the treble or bass strings a bit more if you find your slide is hitting the frets.
Adjust the saddles.
Now here's our first tricky part. Most lightweight slides (such as a glass or chrome tube, or the medicine bottle favored by Allman and Trucks) contact the strings in a straight line. However, on a guitar set up for fretting—including my client's LP—the strings follow the fretboard radius or curvature. In other words, strings 1 through 6 are subtly arched at the bridge so they sit at a consistent height above the frets.
Slide licks often incorporate two or three strings at a time. When your slide has a straight playing surface, yet the strings are arched, you'll wind up pressing some strings down more than others as you move across the fretboard. This can create subtle intonation problems within a chord or interval.
Yes, you can have it all, as Duane Allman, Johnny Winter, Sonny Landreth, Ry Cooder, Derek Trucks, and many other greats have proven over the years.
The solution is to flatten the string radius at the bridge so the strings sit in a straight line that corresponds to the slide's playing surface. On a guitar with individually adjustable saddles, like a Strat, it's easy to raise or lower each string to achieve the target 4/64" gap between the bottom of all the strings and the top of the 12th fret.
However, on a guitar with a fixed-radius bridge—such as a Les Paul with a Tune-o-matic—some saddle slots will need to be deepened slightly to create a flat line between strings 1 and 6. Typically it's the middle saddles that need attention, but your current bridge radius and string gauges will determine which slots require recutting and by how much.
Gauged nut slotting files, which are available from Allparts, Stewart-MacDonald, and other luthier suppliers, work great for this task because you can precisely size the slot to match the string. For example, knowing that my client plays a .010–.046 set, I'll use a .036 gauge nut file to deepen the notch for the .036 A string.
The process is pretty straightforward: After you've set the bridge so the 1st and 6th strings are 4/64" above the 12th fret, measure the 2nd string. If it's also 4/64" at the 12th fret, move onto the 3rd string. But if it's higher, carefully deepen the slot to bring the 2nd string down to 4/64".
Photo 6
When re-cutting a notch, always follow the angle of the string as it emerges from the tailpiece up to the saddle (Photo 6). Go slowly, retuning and then measuring the action every few file strokes. Gently clean off any burrs on the front or back of the saddle using the nut file. This will prevent the string from getting caught up on the saddle and creating tuning issues.
Repeat the process on each inside string until you've achieved a uniformly level playing surface across all six strings. It's painstaking work, but the payoff in tone and feel will be worth the effort. Once you've flattened the radius and are satisfied with the overall action, you'll be ready to move over to the nut.
Raise the nut.
From experience, I knew that having the 1st string sit 1/64" above the 1st fret is too low for slide, so I'd need to raise the nut on this Les Paul. The trick, of course, is to get the nut high enough to accommodate slide technique, yet not make the guitar unplayable when fretting. Based on the owner's playing style, string gauges, and light glass slide, I decided on a uniform height of 2/64" for all six strings on his guitar.
There are only two ways to correctly and permanently raise the nut: You can shim it or carve a new one. The owner wanted to keep the stock Gibson nut, which was in excellent condition, so we elected to shim it.
Here's how that works: First remove the nut by gently tapping it on the fretboard side with a flathead screwdriver and small hammer (Photo 7). Next, clean up the nut slot by removing the excess glue with a small chisel or razor knife, and then scrape any glue off the nut.
Photo 8
Now super-glue the nut onto a thin piece of mahogany (Photo 8). For this kind of shim, I use a .020" thick piece of wood.
Trim off the excess wood around the string nut with a razor knife (Photo 9). Install the string nut and secure it with one drop of super glue on the face of the nut between the 4th and 3rd strings.
Adjust the pickups.
After you change the action on a guitar—especially to this degree—it's a good idea to adjust the pickups to make sure the treble-to-bass and string-to-string balance is how you want it.
First start with overall pickup height. Hold the 1st and 6th strings down at the last fret and measure the distance from the bottom of the strings to the top of the pickup. The distances in this table provide a good starting point for humbuckers.
Photo 10
The next step is to adjust the individual pole pieces using a small flathead screwdriver (Photo 10). The goal here is to create an even and consistent string-to-string balance.
Begin with the 5th string pole piece and adjust it to match the volume of the 6th string. Raising the pole piece will make a string louder and vice versa. Then move to the 4th string and compare it to strings 6 and 5. Continue working across the strings, checking them relative to each other and making small tweaks as necessary. Typically, the 3rd string is the loudest, so don't be surprised if you wind up lowering it below the pickup cover to keep it in balance with the other strings.
It's a wrap.
The final step to complete the project is install a new set of strings, tune to pitch, and adjust the intonation. If you need instructions for checking and adjusting the intonation, read "How to Install a New Tune-o-matic Bridge."
With the string height and pickups adjusted for playing slide, our project Les Paul is ready to return to its owner. But before he carts it off, I'll listen to him play and see if the bridge height and pickup pole pieces are dialed in to his satisfaction. If you set up your own guitar for double duty, you may find yourself making small adjustments after playing it for a few days. That's the beauty of being your own tech, right? That said, if you're not confident you can safely work with glue, files, and other tools around your guitar, take it to your local pro.
[Updated 11/18/21]
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The folk-rock outfit’s frontman Taylor Goldsmith wrote their debut at 23. Now, with the release of their ninth full-length, Oh Brother, he shares his many insights into how he’s grown as a songwriter, and what that says about him as an artist and an individual.
I’ve been following the songwriting of Taylor Goldsmith, the frontman of L.A.-based, folk-rock band Dawes, since early 2011. At the time, I was a sophomore in college, and had just discovered their debut, North Hills, a year-and-a-half late. (That was thanks in part to one of its tracks, “When My Time Comes,” pervading cable TV via its placement in a Chevy commercial over my winter break.) As I caught on, I became fully entranced.
Goldsmith’s lyrics spoke to me the loudest, with lines like “Well, you can judge the whole world on the sparkle that you think it lacks / Yes, you can stare into the abyss, but it’s starin’ right back” (a casual Nietzsche paraphrase); and “Oh, the snowfall this time of year / It’s not what Birmingham is used to / I get the feeling that I brought it here / And now I’m taking it away.” The way his words painted a portrait of the sincere, sentimental man behind them, along with his cozy, unassuming guitar work and the band’s four-part harmonies, had me hooked.
Nothing Is Wrong and Stories Don’t End came next, and I happily gobbled up more folksy fodder in tracks like “If I Wanted,” “Most People,” and “From a Window Seat.” But 2015’s All Your Favorite Bands, which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Folk Albumschart, didn’t land with me, and by the time 2016’s We’re All Gonna Die was released, it was clear that Goldsmith had shifted thematically in his writing. A friend drew a thoughtful Warren Zevon comparison to the single, “When the Tequila Runs Out”—a commentary on vapid, conceited, American-socialite party culture—but it still didn’t really do it for me. I fell off the Dawes train a bit, and became somewhat oblivious to their three full-lengths that followed.
Oh Brotheris Goldsmith’s latest addition to the Dawes songbook, and I’m grateful to say that it’s brought me back. After having done some catching up, I’d posit that it’s the second work in the third act, or fall season, of his songwriting—where 2022’s Misadventures of Doomscrollercracked open the door, Oh Brother swings it wide. And it doesn’t have much more than Dawes’ meat and potatoes, per se, in common with acts one or two. Some moodiness has stayed—as well as societal disgruntlement and the arrangement elements that first had me intoxicated. But then there’s the 7/4 section in the middle of “Front Row Seat”; the gently unwinding, quiet, intimate jazz-club feel of “Surprise!”; the experimentally percussive, soft-spoken “Enough Already”; and the unexpected, dare I say, Danny Elfman-esque harmonic twists and turns in the closing track, “Hilarity Ensues.”
The main engine behind Dawes, the Goldsmith brothers are both native “Angelinos,” having been born and raised in the L.A. area. Taylor is still proud to call the city his home.
Photo by Jon Chu
“I have this working hypothesis that who you are as a songwriter through the years is pretty close to who you are in a dinner conversation,” Goldsmith tells me in an interview, as I ask him about that thematic shift. “When I was 23, if I was invited to dinner with grownups [laughs], or just friends or whatever, and they say, ‘How you doin’, Taylor?’ I probably wouldn’t think twice to be like, ‘I’m not that good. There’s this girl, and … I don’t know where things are at—can I share this with you? Is that okay?’ I would just go in in a way that’s fairly indiscreet! And I’m grateful to that version of me, especially as a writer, because that’s what I wanted to hear, so that’s what I was making at the time.
“But then as I got older, it became, ‘Oh, maybe that’s not an appropriate way to answer the question of how I’m doing.’ Or, ‘Maybe I’ve spent enough years thinking about me! What does it feel like to turn the lens around?’” he continues, naming Elvis Costello and Paul Simon as inspirations along the way through that self-evolution. “Also, trying to be mindful of—I had strengths then that I don’t have now, but I have strengths now that I didn’t have then. And now it’s time to celebrate those. Even in just a physical way, like hearing Frank Zappa talking about how his agility as a guitar player was waning as he got older. It’s like, that just means that you showcase different aspects of your skills.
“I am a changing person. It would be weird if I was still writing the same way I was when I was 23. There would probably be some weird implications there as to who I’d be becoming as a human [laughs].”
Taylor Goldsmith considers Oh Brother, the ninth full-length in Dawes’ catalog, to be the beginning of a new phase of Dawes, containing some of his most unfiltered, unedited songwriting.
Since its inception, the engine behind Dawes has been the brothers Goldsmith, with Taylor on guitar and vocals and Griffin on drums and sometimes vocal harmonies. But they’ve always had consistent backup. For the first several years, that was Wylie Gelber on bass and Tay Strathairn on keyboards. On We’re All Gonna Die, Lee Pardini replaced Strathairn and has been with the band since. Oh Brother, however, marks the departure of Gelber and Pardini.
“We were like, ‘Wow, this is an intense time; this is a vulnerable time,’” remarks Goldsmith, who says that their parting was supportive and loving, but still rocked him and Griffin. “You get a glimpse of your vulnerability in a way that you haven’t felt in a long time when things are just up and running. For a second there, we’re like, ‘We’re getting a little rattled—how do we survive this?’”
They decided to pair up with producer Mike Viola, a close family friend, who has also worked with Mandy Moore—Taylor’s spouse—along with Panic! At the Disco, Andrew Bird, and Jenny Lewis. “[We knew that] he understands all of the parameters of that raw state. And, you know, I always show Mike my songs, so he was aware of what we had cookin’,” says Goldsmith.
Griffin stayed behind the kit, but Taylor took over on bass and keys, the latter of which he has more experience with than he’s displayed on past releases. “We’ve made records where it’s very tempting to appeal to your strengths, where it’s like, ‘Oh, I know how to do this, I’m just gonna nail it,’” he says. “Then there’s records that we make where we really push ourselves into territories where we aren’t comfortable. That contributed to [Misadventures of Doomscroller] feeling like a living, breathing thing—very reactive, very urgent, very aware. We were paying very close attention. And I would say the same goes for this.”
That new terrain, says Goldsmith, “forced us to react to each other and react to the music in new ways, and all of a sudden, we’re exploring new corners of what we do. I’m really excited in that sense, because it’s like this is the first album of a new phase.”
“That forced us to react to each other and react to the music in new ways, and all of a sudden, we’re exploring new corners of what we do.”
In proper folk (or even folk-rock) tradition, the music of Dawes isn’t exactly riddled with guitar solos, but that’s not to say that Goldsmith doesn’t show off his chops when the timing is right. Just listen to the languid, fluent lick on “Surprise!”, the shamelessly prog-inspired riff in the bridge of “Front Row Seat,” and the tactful, articulate line that threads through “Enough Already.” Goldsmith has a strong, individual sense of phrasing, where his improvised melodies can be just as biting as his catalog’s occasional lyrical jabs at presumably toxic ex-girlfriends, and just as melancholy as his self-reflective metaphors, all the while without drawing too much attention to himself over the song.
Of course, most of our conversation revolves around songwriting, as that’s the craft that’s the truest and closest to his identity. “There’s an openness, a goofiness—I even struggle to say it now, but—an earnestness that goes along with who I am, not only as a writer but as a person,” Goldsmith elaborates. “And I think it’s important that those two things reflect one another. ’Cause when you meet someone and they don’t, I get a little bit weirded out, like, ‘What have I been listening to? Are you lying to me?’” he says with a smile.
Taylor Goldsmith's Gear
Pictured here performing live in 2014, Taylor Goldsmith has been the primary songwriter for all of Dawes' records, beginning with 2009’s North Hills.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
Guitars
- Fender Telecaster
- Gibson ES-345
- Radocaster (made by Wylie Gelber)
Amps
- ’64 Fender Deluxe
- Matchless Laurel Canyon
Effects
- 29 Pedals EUNA
- Jackson Audio Bloom
- Ibanez Tube Screamer with Keeley mod
- Vintage Boss Chorus
- Vintage Boss VB-2 Vibrato
- Strymon Flint
- Strymon El Capistan
Strings
- Ernie Ball .010s
In Goldsmith’s songwriting process, he explains that he’s learned to lean away from the inclination towards perfectionism. Paraphrasing something he heard Father John Misty share about Leonard Cohen, he says, “People think you’re cultivating these songs, or, ‘I wouldn’t deign to write something that’s beneath me,’ but the reality is, ‘I’m a rat, and I’ll take whatever I can possibly get, and then I’ll just try to get the best of it.’
“Ever since Misadventures of Doomscroller,” he adds, “I’ve enjoyed this quality of, rather than try to be a minimalist, I want to be a maximalist. I want to see how much a song can handle.” For the songs on Oh Brother, that meant that he decided to continue adding “more observations within the universe” of “Surprise!”, ultimately writing six verses. A similar approach to “King of the Never-Wills,” a ballad about a character suffering from alcoholism, resulted in four verses.
“The economy of songwriting that we’re all taught would buck that,” says Goldsmith. “It would insist that I only keep the very best and shed something that isn’t as good. But I’m not going to think economically. I’m not going to think, ‘Is this self-indulgent?’
Goldsmith’s songwriting has shifted thematically over the years, from more personal, introspective expression to more social commentary and, at times, even satire, in songs like We’re All Gonna Die’s “When the Tequila Runs Out.”
Photo by Mike White
“I don’t abide that term being applied to music. Because if there’s a concern about self-indulgence, then you’d have to dismiss all of jazz. All of it. You’d have to dismiss so many of my most favorite songs. Because in a weird way, I feel like that’s the whole point—self-indulgence. And then obviously relating to someone else, to another human being.” (He elaborates that, if Bob Dylan had trimmed back any of the verses on “Desolation Row,” it would have deprived him of the unique experience it creates for him when he listens to it.)
One of the joys of speaking with Goldsmith is just listening to his thought processes. When I ask him a question, he seems compelled to share every backstory to every detail that’s going through his head, in an effort to both do his insights justice and to generously provide me with the most complete answer. That makes him a bit verbose, but not in a bad way, because he never rambles. There is an endpoint to his thoughts. When he’s done, however, it takes me a second to realize that it’s then my turn to speak.
To his point on artistic self-indulgence, I offer that there’s no need for artists to feel “icky” about self-promotion—that to promote your art is to celebrate it, and to create a shared experience with your audience.
“I hear what you’re saying loud and clear; I couldn’t agree more,” Goldsmith replies. “But I also try to be mindful of this when I’m writing, like if I’m going to drag you through the mud of, ‘She left today, she’s not coming back, I’m a piece of shit, what’s wrong with me, the end’.... That might be relatable, that might evoke a response, but I don’t know if that’s necessarily helpful … other than dragging someone else through the shit with me.
“In a weird way, I feel like that’s the whole point—self-indulgence. And then obviously relating to someone else, to another human being.”
“So, if I’m going to share, I want there to be something to offer, something that feels like: ‘Here’s a path that’s helped me through this, or here’s an observation that has changed how I see this particular experience.’ It’s so hard to delineate between the two, but I feel like there is a difference.”
Naming the opening track “Mister Los Angeles,” “King of the Never-Wills,” and even the title track to his 2015 chart-topper, “All Your Favorite Bands,” he remarks, “I wouldn’t call these songs ‘cool.’ Like, when I hear what cool music is, I wouldn’t put those songs next to them [laughs]. But maybe this record was my strongest dose of just letting me be me, and recognizing what that essence is rather than trying to force out certain aspects of who I am, and force in certain aspects of what I’m not. I think a big part of writing these songs was just self-acceptance,” he concludes, laughing, “and just a whole lot of fishing.”
YouTube It
Led by Goldsmith, Dawes infuses more rock power into their folk sound live at the Los Angeles Ace Hotel in 2023.
A more affordable path to satisfying your 1176 lust.
An affordable alternative to Cali76 and 1176 comps that sounds brilliant. Effective, satisfying controls.
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Warm Audio Pedal76
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Though compressors are often used to add excitement to flat tones, pedal compressors for guitar are often … boring. Not so theWarm Audio Pedal76. The FET-driven, CineMag transformer-equipped Pedal76 is fun to look at, fun to operate, and fun to experiment with. Well, maybe it’s not fun fitting it on a pedalboard—at a little less than 6.5” wide and about 3.25” tall, it’s big. But its potential to enliven your guitar sounds is also pretty huge.
Warm Audio already builds a very authentic and inexpensive clone of the Urei 1176, theWA76. But the font used for the model’s name, its control layout, and its dimensions all suggest a clone of Origin Effects’ much-admired first-generation Cali76, which makes this a sort of clone of an homage. Much of the 1176’s essence is retained in that evolution, however. The Pedal76 also approximates the 1176’s operational feel. The generous control spacing and the satisfying resistance in the knobs means fast, precise adjustments, which, in turn, invite fine-tuning and experimentation.
Well-worn 1176 formulas deliver very satisfying results from the Pedal76. The 10–2–4 recipe (the numbers correspond to compression ratio and “clock” positions on the ratio, attack, and release controls, respectively) illuminates lifeless tones—adding body without flab, and an effervescent, sparkly color that preserves dynamics and overtones. Less subtle compression tricks sound fantastic, too. Drive from aggressive input levels is growling and thick but retains brightness and nuance. Heavy-duty compression ratios combined with fast attack and slow release times lend otherworldly sustain to jangly parts. Impractically large? Maybe. But I’d happily consider bumping the rest of my gain devices for the Pedal76.