Session ace Brent Mason's famous '67 Telecaster has three humbucker pickups and three controls. Fender just released a Brent Mason signature Telecaster, which is a replica of this guitar.
Welcome back to Mod Garage. Let's take a closer look at what's usually referred to as the Brent Mason Telecaster wiring. It's also been called "Telecaster blend wiring" or "Nashville Telecaster wiring," and I think it's time to cover this one in detail for several reasons. First and foremost, I've received numerous requests from you, dear readers, to do this. Fender recently released a faithful replica of Brent Mason's Telecaster, and also, my PG colleague John Bohlinger did a great Rig Rundown video with Mason just weeks ago. Mason is an outstanding player and absolutely nice guy so it's only logical to cover the wiring of his famous '67 Telecaster. Unless you're living in a cave, you've heard about Mason and his playing, which he's laid down on more Nashville studio records than one can count.
Mason's famous "automobile primer gray" 1967 Telecaster has three humbucker pickups and three controls. It's basically a standard 3-way Tele pickup-switching circuit plus an additional volume control to blend in the middle pickup. These are the pickups Mason uses in his Telecaster, all from the Seymour Duncan company:
Rig Rundown: Brent Mason [2021]
- Neck position: Vintage Mini Humbucker (Mason tenderly calls it a "Baby Humbucker"), built-in 180 degrees flipped, so the open pole pieces are facing the bridge rather than the neck for some more high-end and clarity in the tone. The pickup is wired with both coils in series for full humbucking functionality and no control to split it.
- Middle position: Mason is using an older version of the Hot Stack Strat STK-S2 with the red pickup cover and engraved Seymour Duncan logo on top. The current model has a white cover that's partly open on top. Hopefully, the iconic early red pickup cover will be available again for that special look. The pickup is wired with both coils in series for full humbucking functionality and no control to split it.
- Bridge position: Vintage Stack Tele STK-T3b, which is wired with both coils in series for full humbucking functionality and no control to split it.
These are the pickups installed in Brent's original Tele and also the pickups Fender is using for the signature model. This is an HHH pickup combination, by all means. Why Fender labelled it an SSH combination on the webpage ... well, we don't know.
In general, you can use any given pickup combination for this wiring. If you want to be as close as possible, this is your shopping list. If you only want to get in the same ballpark, you should use a vintage-flavored Tele bridge pickup, a hotter (overwound) Stratocaster middle pickup, and a PAF-style humbucker or hot P-90 for the neck position. No matter if they're single-coils or humbuckers, it will work.
"This wiring worked well for Mason right from the start: A hum-free operation is absolutely essential for work in a studio."
Why did Mason choose such an unusual pickup combination, you might ask? According to Mason himself, he didn't have much money in his early career and could only afford one guitar. This had to cover everything he needed in the studio. Brent wanted a Telecaster bridge pickup to cover all the country playing that was popular in the early '90s. For this, he also installed a B-Bender (Joe Glaser system, Mk1 version). He also wanted a Stratocaster tone, especially the in-between tone from bridge and middle together in parallel, and a Les Paul-ish tone from the neck position. So, the pickup combination he chose made sense, and Nashville's Joe Glaser did the wiring for him, which is the reason why Mason named this wiring "Glaser wiring."
This worked well for Mason right from the start: A hum-free operation is absolutely essential for work in a studio. But the wiring underwent some evolution during the years regarding the push-pull pot, which is the master tone control. This was initially wired to split the Hot Stack middle pickup into a single-coil, and all the diagrams of this wiring that are online right now still display this version. Today, the push-pull pot is wired to switch the middle pickup on and off. This is also the way Fender's Mason signature Tele is wired and what I'll be showing you. If you want the older wiring, you can find several examples online. They are also correct, but simply not up to date with Mason's current wiring.
I asked Mason directly about this, and I'm more than happy to share his reply:
"Basically, it's a standard 3-way switch with an extra volume knob that controls the middle pickup. Three knobs, left to right: volume (for neck and bridge), volume (middle), tone (for all 3) with an extra feature to pull on the tone knob to cut the middle pickup off or on. The middle pickup with the volume knob enables you to roll in the desired amount to blend with either neck or bridge. The pull knob on my original '67 Tele cuts the Seymour Duncan Vintage Stack split coil in half to single-coil. Later on, over the years I found that feature useless. We decided to make that tone control knob cut the middle pickup off and on. Upward position is off. The pickups are all Seymour Duncan; Mini Humbucker in front, Hot Stack in middle, and Vintage Stack in bridge." —Brent Mason
Building The Limited-Edition Brent Mason Telecaster | Dream Factory | Fender
For more on the guitar and its story, I recommend watching the video about it.
So, what do we need for this wiring? We know the pickups, but we don't know exactly what's used for the electronics and how it's wired. Fender didn't release a wiring diagram for the signature model yet and Joe Glaser didn't publish anything about it. My diagram (Fig. 1 - scroll below) will work exactly as it should, but maybe the original guitar is wired slightly different. As you know, many roads lead to Rome.
I was able to find a photo of the wiring Fender did (Photo 1) and extracted a still shot of Brent's original guitar from the Fender video mentioned above (Photo 2).
Photo 1
Photo courtesy of FMIC
Photo 2
Photo courtesy of FMIC
On these two photos, we can clearly see:
- The push-pull pot is wired to switch the middle pickup on and off.
- All three pickups are wired for full humbucking functionality with both coils in series.
- No treble-bleed networks are used on the two volume pots.
- Mason still has the '67 original Sprague "Circle D" 0.05 uF high-voltage ceramic tone cap in his guitar.
This only leaves us with two unknown parameters: resistance of the three pots, and on/off wiring of the middle pickup. I think it's three 250k audio pots, but if you want a tad more high-end, using a 500k audio push-pull master tone pot is worth a try. I would use two 250k audio volume pots to benefit from the much better taper range compared to a 500k pot—the nature of the (passive) beast.
To activate or cut off the middle pickup there are two different ways: connecting the pickup to the switch or using a push/pull volume pot for the middle pickup. I decided to use the second version because when connecting the pickup directly to the switch, the volume pot stays connected to the circuit, adding some load to it, resulting in less high-end. Please note that the master tone pot will not work on the middle pickup when the master volume is not set to "10" (aka fully opened). When you start to roll down the volume, the middle pickup gets disconnected from the master tone, no matter if you switch the pickup itself or the volume pot—that's part of the game.
Fig. 1
To keep the wiring diagram (Fig. 1) as clean as possible, I showed all ground connections only with the international symbol for it rather than drawing several black wires through the diagram. I also only show two pickup wires (hot and ground) but keep in mind that these are humbuckers with a four-conductor wiring plus separate ground wire, so you'll have to solder some wires together to end up with only two pickup wires. The separate ground wire always goes directly to ground (casing of a pot, etc.) and assuming you're using Seymour Duncan pickups, you'll have to follow this color code:
- Black wire = hot output
- White and red wire are twisted together, soldered, and isolated
- Green wire = ground
For other pickups, you'll have to use the corresponding color code from the manufacturer. For single-coil pickups, you don't need to do all this.
Is this wiring perfect or are there any mods that can be done? At least it's perfect for Mason and his playing. If it's good enough for him, it should be good enough for all of us. But this is only half the truth.
If you have Brent's playing chops, you don't depend much on any equipment. Even with the cheapest, meanest, off-tuned junk guitar, Mason will sound much better than most of us. The better you play, the less you depend on equipment. It's absolutely okay and no sacrilege to mod this circuit to your personal needs. If you want to use the push-pull pot for splitting one of the pickups rather than switching the middle pickup on and off ... go for it! If you want to use treble-bleed networks for the volume pots or want to implement splitting for all three pickups, there's no law against doing so.
That's it for now. Next month we'll continue with our DIY relic'ing project.
Until then ... keep on modding!- Rig Rundown: Brent Mason [2021] - Premier Guitar ›
- First Look: Fender Brent Mason Telecaster - Premier Guitar ›
- The Telecaster Mod Guide - Premier Guitar ›
- Fender Esquire Basics - Premier Guitar ›
- Ultimate Broadway Nashville T-Style Guitar Build & Test - Premier Guitar ›
The Brian May Gibson SJ-200 12-string in the hands of the artist himself.
Together, with a legion of Vox AC30s and a few effects, May and his homemade Red Special have created some of the richest, most glorious guitar sounds that have ever been documented. It is with that guitar in his hands that he’s crafted everything from his velveteen guitar orchestras to his frenetic riffs and luxuriant harmonies to his effortlessly lyrical leads, which matched the dramatic melodic motifs of Freddie Mercury in one of the most dynamic lead singer/guitarist pairings in rock music.
Although it has a smaller role in his body of work, overshadowed by such an accomplished, prolific electric guitar C.V., May’s acoustic playing is a major part of the story of his music. His bold opening strums of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” are some of the most recognizable D-major chords in the classic-rock canon, and his supportive work on “Spread Your Wings” adds lush dimension between Freddie Mercury’s arpeggiated piano chords and his rich electric guitarmonies. The multi-tracked 12-string figure that opens “’39”—his “cosmic folk song”—is among his most recognizable.
It’s a surprise, then, that when I ask May about the acoustic guitars used while recording with Queen, the most notable is his Hallfredh acoustic, a “cheap as hell” guitar from a virtually unknown brand. “My little old acoustic, which I swapped with my dear friend at school,” he reminisces. “The strings were so low on it that everything buzzed like a sitar. I capitalized on that and put pins on it instead of the bridge saddles, and you can hear that stuff on ‘The Night Comes Down’ [from Queen]. I used it all the way through Queen’s recordings, like on ‘Jealousy’ [from Jazz] years later and lots of things.” He also recalls his Ovation 12-string and some others, but the Hallfredh remains in the foreground of his acoustic memories.
The cosmic inlays on the Brian May SJ-200 represent the rock legend’s work in the field of astrophysics, in which he holds a PhD.
In recent years, May has been performing the 1975 ballad and emotional Mercury vehicle “Love of My Life,” which appears on A Night at the Opera, as an acoustic tribute to the late singer. May and his acoustic 12-string sit center stage each night as he leads the crowd through a heartwarming rendition of the song, joined at its climax by a video of Mercury. For that powerful, commanding moment, he’s relied on “a number of guitars we won’t mention, but it just came to the point where I’m thinking, ‘This isn’t sounding as good as I would like it to.’”
At one concert, a Gibson representative who was around piped up and offered to make him a guitar to his specs specifically for this piece. “I was surprised that they would notice me in the first place,” May recalls, “because part of me never grew up.” A surprising take from a rock star of such stature, but he explains, “I’m still a kid who was reading the Gibson catalogs and not able to afford anything, seeing the SGs and the Les Pauls and dreaming of being able to own a Gibson guitar. I now have a couple of the SGs, which I absolutely love, but, of course, I made my own guitar and I now have my own guitar company, so I went a different way. But to me this was a joy that they would offer to make me a guitar, which I could take out onstage.”
After building one for the guitarist, Gibson created a limited edition run of 100 instruments of the new model, called the Brian May SJ-200 12-string. Featuring a AAA Sitka spruce top with a vintage sunburst finish, AAA rosewood back and sides, a 2-piece AAA maple neck with walnut stringer, and a rosewood fretboard, it’s a top-of-the-line acoustic. The most noticeable feature on the SJ-200 is probably the string arrangement, which is flipped—as is most commonly found on Rickenbacker 12-strings—with the lower string above the higher string in each course. May has made that modification on other 12s, because he likes to string the high string first when fingerpicking. “You get an incredibly pure sound that way,” he points out. “‘Love of My Life’ is a good example—if it’s strung the other way, it sounds very different.”
On its pickguard, all seven of the other planets in our solar system are etched. The shaded one, close at hand, is Mercury, a tribute to the Queen singer.
May’s aesthetic customizations draw from his astrophysics work and add a personal sparkle to the large-bodied acoustic. The pickguard features a custom design with the seven other planets in the system, which is to say, not Earth. Mercury sits close at hand, a tribute to the singer. The fretboard and headstock include 8-point star inlays—to give a “more cosmic feeling”—that are made from agoya shell, as are the bridge inlays.
“It became a discussion about art and science, which I love,” May says of the design process. “That’s probably the biggest thread in my life, this path trodden, some people would say, between art and science. But I would say that they’re the same thing. So, I just tread among art and science.”
May’s own Gibson has already appeared in concert during the “Love of My Life” segment of Queen’s show, and occasionally for “’39.” On social media, where May stays active, many fans caught a glimpse of the guitar when he posted a new song for Christmas Eve. “I just wanted to say Merry Christmas, and that’s the way it came out,” he says. “It was incredibly spontaneous. I wanted it to be a gift. I didn’t want it to be, in any way, a way of advertising or making money or anything. It was just a Merry Christmas gift to whoever wants to listen to me.”
“It became a discussion about art and science, which I love,”
While that was one of the first things created with the new Gibson, he has more plans. “I’ve been playing around with it. In fact, we’ve been dropping the D,” he says, hinting at some future plans with guitarist-vocalist Arielle. “I have quite a few songs with the bottom D dropped. I haven’t normally played them acoustic or 12-string, but I’m discovering that some of that sounds really good. It gets such a lovely big clang and a big depth to it.”
Recently, May spent a great deal of time looking back as the band prepped the Queen I box set. The remixed, remastered, and very expanded version of their 1973 debut, Queen—they’ve added the “I” here—which was released last October, encompasses a rebuild of the entire record, plus additional takes, backing tracks, a version recorded specifically for John Peel’s BBC Radio 1 show, and a 1974 live concert recording from London’s Rainbow Theatre.
May says of his new Gibson: “To me, this was a joy that they would offer to make me a guitar."
Revisiting this early document over 50 years later, it’s amazing to hear how well-developed the guitarist’s sound already was—full of the propulsive riffs and harmonies that would become part of his signature. May concurs, “You go back into these tracks quite forensically, and I hear myself in the naked tracks and I think, ‘Wow, I didn’t realize that I could do that at that point.’ It must have happened very quickly.”
Reflecting on those formative times, he continues, “I think there’s a period of just exploding, knowing what it is in your head, and striving to make what you play match what’s in your head. But I see it in other people, too. Sometimes, I go back and listen to the first Zeppelin album, and they were pretty young when they made that. But I think, ‘My God, how did they get that far and so quick?’”
“I thought guitars do work as primary orchestral instruments, so that’s what I want to do.”
Before Queen, May had already recorded a two-part guitar solo on the song “Earth,” a late-’60s track recorded with his earlier band, Smile, which also featured future Queen drummer Roger Taylor. While that lead certainly points toward the ambition in May’s later work, its raw untamedness doesn’t quite show evidence of his ultimate precision. But he says he had it in mind from early on. “There weren’t any more tracks to do three parts” when they recorded with Smile, he says, “but I always dreamed of it. It goes back a long, long way to hearing harmonies in other ways from the Everly Brothers, from Buddy Holly and the Crickets, from all sorts of things that we were listening to when we were kids.
“I wanted to make the sound of an orchestra just using guitars, and there’s other little inspirations along the way,” he continues. “Jeff Beck was an inspiration because there’s that wonderful track, ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining,’ which Jeff hated. But there’s one bit where he double-tracks the solo and in just one point it breaks into a two-part harmony, probably by accident. I guess I should have asked him—damn well wish I had. But that sound echoed in my head, and I thought guitars do work as primary orchestral instruments, so that’s what I want to do. I could hear it in my head for a long time before I could make it actually happen.”
Brian May and his Red Special at a recent concert.
Photo by Steve Rose
Though the Queenrecording sessions gave the guitarist his first opportunity to explore the larger harmonized sections that would become part of his signature, many of the sounds on the record left the band dissatisfied. Recorded at Trident Studios in London, the young band could only afford to use the room during downtime. Over the course of four months, they had sessions, usually at night, with in-house producers John Anthony and Roy Thomas Baker, both early supporters. However, the Trident style and sound wasn’t what Queen had in their collective ears, and they’ve remained unhappy with the sonic quality of their debut all these years.
The drums were the band’s primary issue, which Taylor describes as having a “very dry, quite fat, dead sound.” May’s tone is recognizably his own. “Well, I’m a very pushy person,” he laughs. “But nevertheless, it was difficult for me, too. Because of this Trident style of recording, the intention was not to have room sound on it. I kind of pushed, I suppose, to have a mic on the back of the amp as well as the front. That gave me a bit more air. I did feel a little hampered and the change is more subtle on the guitar, but it’s there.
“Jeff Beck was an inspiration because there’s that wonderful track, ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining,’ which Jeff hated. But there’s one bit where he double tracks the solo and in just one point it breaks into a two-part harmony, probably by accident.”
“It’s funny because it changed radically as time went on,” he continues. “And I can remember by the time we got to Sheer Heart Attack, Roy is putting mics all over the room and miking up windows in the booth and whatever to get maximum room sounds. It’s certainly nice to go back and make everything sound the way we pretty much would’ve liked it to sound at the time.”
With Queen I out, a new Queen IIset is in the works, which May calls “a very different kettle of fish.” The drum sounds on their sophomore effort were more in line with the band’s original vision, but the dense layers of overdubs that famously appear on the record came at a cost. “I think it is the biggest step musically and recording-wise that we ever made,” says May. “But there’s a lot of congestion in there. There’s mud because of all this generation-loss stuff [caused by overdubs], and because we liked to saturate the tape, which seemed like a good idea at the time. It made it sound loud. But if you disentangle that and get the bigness in other ways, I think Queen II is going to sound massive.”
The AAA rosewood back and sides of May’s signature acoustic are stunning.
At 77 years old, May certainly seems to keep his schedule packed with music work—not to mention his animal advocacy and scientific endeavors. In May of last year, though, everything came to a halt when the guitarist suffered a stroke. “I couldn’t get a fork from the table to my mouth without it all going all over the place,” he recalls. “It was scary.” Luckily, things began turning around quickly. “After only a few days, it’s amazing what you can get back. By sheer willpower, you just start retraining your muscle.” Not quite a year on when we speak, May estimates he’s regained 95 percent of his abilities, which, he says, “is enough.
“The short answer is, ‘I’m good,’” he assures.
May is in great spirits and appears excited about all his recent projects, finished and in-progress alike. In this time of looking back on his earliest works, I ask him to think about his beginnings, when he would gaze at Gibson catalogs but had to build his own guitar out of necessity, because, as he points out, he “couldn’t afford anything else.”
So, what would young Brian May, stepping into an afterhours session at Trident, making his band’s debut, think about his new limited edition signature model Gibson acoustic? He takes a long pause. “It would have been …” he pauses again, “unthinkable.”
YouTube It
On That’s the Price of Loving Me, “We’re Not Finished Yet” is a love letter to Wareham’s 1968 Gibson ES-335.
The singer-songwriter, 61, has crafted many such moments—most famously during the late ’80s and early ’90s, helping cement the dream-pop genre with cult-favorites Galaxie 500. Take the tenor saxophone, by Ralph Carney, that elevates the back half of “Decomposing Trees” from 1989’s On Fire, or the Mellotron-like atmosphere that bubbles up during “Spook” on This Is Our Music from 1990—both of which, notably, were recorded with journeyman producer Kramer, who’s part of Wareham’s rich sonic universe once again with the songwriter’s new solo album, That’s the Price of Loving Me.
Following This Is Our Music, the final Galaxie 500 album, Wareham and Kramer went their separate ways. The former founded the long-running indie-rock band Luna, formed the duo Dean & Britta with now-wife Britta Phillips, worked on film scores, and released a handful of solo projects. Kramer, meanwhile, grew into a hero of experimental music, playing with and producing everyone from John Zorn to Daniel Johnston. They stayed in touch, even as they drifted apart geographically, and always talked about working together again—but it took the weight of mortality to make it happen.
“[Kramer has] been saying for years, ‘It’s crazy we haven’t made a record together,’” says Wareham over Zoom, his shimmering silver hair flanked in the frame by a wall-hung cherry red Gibson SG and a poster of Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s 1975 drama Faustrecht der Freiheit. “He was living in Florida, and I was living elsewhere and doing other things. But I did lose a couple of friends over the pandemic, and it did occur to me, you can’t just say, ‘I’ll get to it’ forever. Not to be morbid, but we’re not gonna be here forever. We’re not getting any younger, are we?”
Dean Wareham's Gear
Wareham was a member of the early indie dream-pop trio Galaxie 500. After their split, he formed indie rock stalwarts Luna as well as Dean & Britta, with wife and Luna bandmate Britta Phillips.
Photo by Laura Moreau
Guitars
Amps
- Lazy J 20
- Mesa/Boogie California Tweed
Effects
- EAE Hypersleep reverb
- EAE Sending analog delay
- Dr Scientist Frazz Dazzler fuzz
- Danelectro Back Talk
- Joe Parker Raydeen overdrive
Strings, Picks, and Accessories
- Curtis Mangan nickel wounds (.010–.046)
- Dunlop Nylon .88 mm picks
- Truetone 1 Spot Pro CS12
In 2020, Dean & Britta recorded a covers album, Quarantine Tapes—the perfect opportunity, amid the agony of lockdown, to finally get Kramer involved. The producer mixed their hazy version of the Seekers’ “The Carnival Is Over,” which planted the seeds for a bigger collaboration on That’s the Price of Loving Me. At first, though, Wareham didn’t have any songs, so he gave himself a hard deadline by booking some time at L.A. studio Lucy’s Meat Market.
“What is it in a song that makes people cry? What is it that moves you? It’s something unexpected.”
“I don’t write songs every day—sometimes I don’t write songs for a whole year or something,” he says with a laugh. “The only thing that gets me to do it is booking studio time. Then I have to write some songs because it’ll be embarrassing if I show up with nothing.”
The space itself—decked out with a jaw-dropping amount of vintage guitars and amplifiers and keyboards—helped animate his sleepy-eyed and gently psychedelic songs. “I thought I had a few nice instruments,” Wareham says, “but I showed up, like, ‘Oh, your Les Paul’s from 1955? I think I’ll play this one. Your Martin is from the ’40s?’” Speed and spontaneity were essential: They worked six full days, with Kramer guiding him to capture every performance without overthinking it.
Wareham’s latest was produced by Kramer, a former member of Shockabilly, Bongwater, and the Butthole Surfers who owns the legendary underground label Shimmy-Disc. He produced all three Galaxie 500 LPs.
“[That’s] how I worked with Kramer back in the day too,” he recalls. “Maybe it kinda spoiled me—he was always like, ‘Yep, that’s it. Next!’ I got lazy about going back and redoing things. We’d make the decision and move on: keep that drum track and bass track. Maybe Britta [bass, backing vocals] would change a few things. Sometimes you’re with people who think every single thing should be replaced and made perfect, and you don’t actually have to do that. When it came time for me to overdub a guitar solo or something, Kramer would just allow me two takes generally: ‘Do it again a little differently. That’s it. That’s good.’”
“I thought I had a few nice instruments, but I showed up, like, ‘Oh, your Les Paul’s from 1955? I think I’ll play this one.’”
The material itself allowed for such malleability, with ringing chord progressions and gentle melodies often influenced by the musicians who happened to be gathered around him that day. “You Were the Ones I Had to Betray” has the baroque-pop sweetness of late-’60s Beatles, partly due to the sawing cellos of L.A. session player Gabe Noel, who also added some boomy bass harmonica to the climax. “It’s an instrument you’d mostly associate with the Beach Boys, I guess,” Wareham says. “It kinda sounds like a saxophone or something.”
Wareham, his 335, and Mesa/Boogie California Tweed at a recent Luna show, with bassist Britta Phillips in the background.
Photo by Mario Heller
It’s easy to get wrapped up in the warm hug of these arrangements, but it’s also worth highlighting Wareham’s lyrics—whether it’s the clever but subtle acrostic poetry of “The Mystery Guest” (“I’d never done that before, and it’s not that hard to do actually. Sometimes it’s just to give yourself a strange assignment to get yourself thinking in a different way”) or the hilarity of “We’re Not Finished Yet,” which scans as carnal but is actually a love letter to his semi-recently acquired 1968 Gibson ES-335.
“Sometimes it’s just to give yourself a strange assignment to get yourself thinking in a different way.”
“I read this poem about a guy polishing an antique wooden cabinet or something,” Wareham explains. “I thought, ‘That’s funny—it’s vaguely sexual, how he’s like rubbing this thing.’ I thought it would be funny if I wrote a song not about a piece of furniture but about the guitar—the experience of buying this. The lyrics in there: ‘I waxed you; I rubbed you; I reamed you.’ It all sounds like a dirty song, but it’s like, ‘No, I had to get the peg holes reamed!’ It works kind of as a love song, but that’s what it’s really about.”
Which brings us back to that idea of the unexpected. The most beautiful touches on Loving Me, crafted with his ol’ producer pal, are the ones that appear out of nowhere—like the blossoming guitar overdubs of “New World Julie” and “Dear Pretty Baby.” Kramer, he says, liked to “run two or three guitar tracks at once, where it becomes a symphony of guitars.”
These surprises, indeed, are the moments that stick with you.
YouTube It
Luna’s four-song performance on KEXP showcases Dean Wareham’s sparse, low-key indie rock vibe as well as his simple and sweet guitar embellishments.
In the ’80s, Peter Buck’s clean, chime-y arpeggios defined the sound of alt-rock to come. From R.E.M's start, his post-Roger McGuinn 12-string style served as the foundation for the band’s simple, plain-spoken approach, offering a fresh take on what an independent band could be and inspiring generations of artists to come. Buck not only found his sound quickly, he evolved throughout the band’s career. By the ’90s, R.E.M.’s sound had evolved to incorporate organic, acoustic textures, and eventually leaning into a glam- and grunge-inspired, distorted-guitar-focused sound on 1994’s Monster.
