"One of Gibson's WWII-era guitars, this Jumbo features a gold banner on the headstock that reads, ""Only a Gibson is Good Enough."" This feature was on Gibson's guitars from 1942 to 1945. Estimate $3,000 - $5,000."
Frontwoman Jessica Dobson plunges into the depths of her Benson-powered road rig.
Seattle indie rockers Deep Sea Diver released their fourth full-length record, BillboardHeart, earlier this year via Sub Pop, and their supporting cross-country tour took them to downtown Nashville’s Blue Room at Jack White’s Third Man Records.
PG’s Chris Kies connected with singer and guitarist Jessica Dobson in 2020 for a virtual Rig Rundown, but this time we get a close-up, in-person look at Dobson’s tour kit, including her signature Benson stomp box and a custom guitar.
Dobson picked up this slick Bilt S.S. Zaftig to replace her beloved but terribly heavy Fender Starcaster. This one has Lollar Regal Wide-Range humbuckers in it.
Regrets, I’ve Had a Few
Dobson purchased this used Fender Elvis Costello Jazzmaster in 2010, and has since met the person who sold it—and totally regrets it. It’s strung with D’Addario .011–.052s, and tuned to E standard.
Blue Benz
U.K.-based builder Elliott Trent modeled this custom Trent guitar for Dobson on her mother’s old blue Mercedes, and loaded it with P-90s.
Benson Boom Box
Dobson’s amp of choice, taped to perfection, is this 30-watt Benson Chimera 2x12 combo.
Jessica Dobson’s Pedalboard
Dobson runs a busy board powered by a Voodoo Labs Pedal Power 2 Plus and operated via a Boss ES-8. There’s also her signature Benson Deep Sea Diver, plus a Benson Germanium Preamp, JHS Pulp N Peel, Sarno Music Solutions Earth Drive, Benson Germanium Boost, EHX Deluxe Memory Man, Strymon blueSky, EHX POG2, Chase Bliss Brothers Analog Gainstage, and Menatone Pleasure Trem 5000, plus a TC Electronic PolyTune 2 Noir.
Pelican, from left: Bassist Bryan Herweg, guitarist Laurent Schroeder-Lebec, guitarist Trevor Shelley de Brauw, drummer Bryan Herweg.
On Flickering Resonance, the instrumental auteurs throw down a spellbinding slab of post-metal majesty.
To some, a rock band without a singer can seem like a band without a voice. But for Pelican, the lyrical guitar lines of Trevor Shelley de Brauw and Laurent Schroeder-Lebec are not without a point of view. Their self-professed “unconscious melting pot” of influences includes post-hardcore, punk, and doom metal, among others, but their music also often displays the grandeur of cinema, blending a thick sonic backbone with melodic passages and moments of quiet, introspective solemnity. They intentionally press against the heaviness of their preferred drop-tunings and endlessly yearning rhythms to find a musical sweet spot that is as uplifting as it is unrelenting. “I think the music has this exalting, elevating melody to it that could be described as positive or affirming,” describes Schroeder-Lebec. “It was never the intention to be dark or foreboding or menacing.”
The instrumental post-metal band came together in 2001 in Chicago, Illinois, with guitarists Shelley de Brauw and Schroeder-Lebec, along with brothers Bryan Herweg (bass) and Larry Herweg (drums). Known for incorporating expansive, ambient passages that set them apart from their contemporaries, Pelican has released several well-received albums since the early-aughts, starting with their debut EP, Pelican (2001), and subsequent full length, 2003’s Australasia.
Songstream
On their latest album, Flickering Resonance, Pelican takes “as much inspiration from titanic ’90s post-hardcore, space-rock, and emo as they do traditional metal, showing that though Godflesh and Goatsnake records occupied the shelves of Pelican’s songwriters, so too did Quicksand, Christie Front Drive, and Hum,” writes band biographer David Anthony. “Pelican’s foundation was built upon the rule-free, genre-agnostic [’90s] scene synonymous with Chicago’s [legendary] Fireside Bowl.”
Most of the songs on Flickering Resonance were written by Shelley de Brauw, Schroeder-Lebec, and Bryan Herweg sitting in a room together. “We’ll get a rough version of a song together, record a voice memo [on a smart phone], send it to Larry, and he’ll compose drum parts around it,” explains Shelley de Brauw. “But the meat of the process is really all four of us being in a room together jamming and figuring out where the songs want to go. Once we’re in a room, we can really edit so that the DNA of all four of us is in there and it flows in a way that feels natural for us as a band.”
A core influence on Pelican’s DNA is post-hardcore progenitors Fugazi, and their indelible creative imprint is all over Flickering Resonance, even if subversively. “Those records were written in a space, jamming together, and somebody’s coming up with something, and somebody else comes up with a counterpoint, and then everything just starts to gel over time,” observes Shelley de Brauw. “For us, it’s a similar process in that the exchange of ideas makes the music feel more organic in a sense.”
“I think the music has this exalting, elevating melody to it that could be described as positive or affirming. It was never the intention to be dark or foreboding or menacing.” —Laurent Schroeder-Lebec
Aside from Shelley de Brauw’s occasional use of Ableton, he and Schroeder-Lebec mostly eschew leaning on DAWs for crafting songs and records, even if that means slowing down some of the productivity. “You can be super productive [with technology] if you’re like, ‘I’ll throw up an arrangement, lay it down to a click tonight, send it to you, and if you’ve got a part that fits pretty good, you lay that down,’ but it sometimes takes away the back and forth that happens when you’re hashing out the riffs in a room together,” explains Schroeder-Lebec. “And that’s what feels familiar and gratifying. It ends up being a better representation of the band in the end.” It took Pelican six years since their last album, Nighttime Stories, to complete Flickering Resonance, a testament to their face-to-face writing ethos.
Pelican recruited Sanford Parker to engineer the Flickering Resonance recording sessions. He’s worked with the band on and off for the past several decades, including for their first album, Australasia. “The idea was to work with somebody in a complementary way rather than a directive way,” explains Schroeder-Lebec. “Recording with Sanford seems to be a combination of miking with the DI out and staying open to the idea of splitting cabs, splitting heads, and trying to maintain the sound that you’re playing out of.”
On Flickering Resonance, Pelican draw on an “unconscious melting pot” of influences to deliver a widescreen platter of heavy rock instrumental epics.
D’Addario EXL158 XL Nickel Wound Electric Baritone (.013–.062)
Jim Dunlop USA Gator Grip Standard (1.5 mm)
When he went to record, Schroeder-Lebec says he was attached to his Orange Rockerverb, but he curiously determined that it probably wouldn’t work in the studio. “I thought that it might get too murky at times,” he admits. “We tried a bunch of stuff and Sanford and Trevor were like, ‘It needs to be the Orange. That’s the best sounding one.’ We filled out some of the frequencies with a Triple Rectifier that was adjusted to a low-gain setting and went between the two at varying levels.”
The guitar parts in Pelican songs are orchestrated more like conversations than distinct lead and rhythm roles. At times, Schroeder-Lebec says he will gravitate to foundational things, but what he enjoys most about the band, since returning after a long hiatus, is their openness with each other. “For me, it’s a sign of personal maturity not being super-attached to your awesome mega riff,” he attests. “And that is born of Trevor and I relating [to each other], and then Brian getting into the mix as a bass player.” He says open lines of communication end up informing intricacies within the songs, like picking patterns, especially when deciding if they are playing upstrokes or downstrokes, for example. “Even in the scheme of being instrumental, with as much slowness as there is, and repetition, and the wall of sound, there’s also nuance. The way the riffs are structured, they’re like interlocking pieces of the grander puzzle that I hope translate to the listener.”
“For me, it’s a sign of personal maturity not being super-attached to your awesome mega riff.” —Laurent Schroeder-Lebec
Trevor Shelley de Brauw (foreground) and bassst Bryan Herwig cut tracks simultaneously in the studio for Pelican’s latest album.
Photo by Mike Boyd
Shelley de Brauw and Schroeder-Lebec gravitate to different tonalities instinctually and find that they are surprisingly complementary of each other. “Trevor and I have known each other for a very long time, and friendship is a key component to the building blocks,” says Schroeder-Lebec. “It’s not infused with conversations like, ‘Hey I’m going to boost my mids,’ or anything technical like that, but we both want each other’s parts to be present, audible, and focused.” He recounts a funny anecdote from Russian Circles’ guitarist Mike Sullivan, with whom they toured recently. “Mike was watching us, and was like, ‘When I hear each of you individually, I’m like, how do these two guitars fit?’ They’re just such different ranges and when you hear the two together, it becomes this tapestry where everything hangs harmonically.”
Channeling all of that sonic 6-string ferocity into live shows means lugging heavy 4x12 cabs and guitar heads to gigs and rocking the same setup that they’ve used since the beginning. No in-ears, modeling amps, or plugins for Pelican. “We need the air at our backs, and we need to feel the sound waves,” attests Shelley de Brauw. “The physical sensation plays a huge part in what the band is about.” Their volume has crept down over the years because they’ve been in pursuit of clarity, and hearing each other on stage has become paramount. “In the beginning, it was just turn it up and pound hard, and it worked,” remembers Schroeder-Lebec. “But we want to play with each other. That’s the goal now and we’re hoping that the combined effort is relatable for people coming to see the show.”
YouTube It
Pelican deliver a crushing take on “Cascading Crescent” from Flickering Resonance.
This custom-built vihuela was designed with symbols that honor the owner’s deceased relatives.
Get to know the 5-string heartbeat of mariachi ensembles.
For any guitarist captivated by vibrant rhythm and unique sonic textures, the Mexican vihuela is an instrument that demands attention. Its instantly recognizable, bright, percussive strumming is the heartbeat of mariachi music, contributing an undeniable energy to the ensemble. But the vihuela’s story stretches far beyond the iconic mariachi sound we know today, rooted in European ancestry yet blossoming into a distinctly Mexican voice—one every serious string player should explore.
The vihuela’s lineage traces back to the Spanish vihuela de mano, a sophisticated plucked string instrument that thrived in the 15th and 16th centuries. This European ancestor, often boasting six courses of strings and a familiar figure-eight body shape, made its way to the Americas with the Spanish conquistadors. While the Spanish vihuela eventually faded in Europe, it found fertile ground in the New World, particularly in Mexico, where it began its remarkable transformation.
On Mexican soil, its size generally became more compact, and the string count typically settled at five, tuned in re-entrant courses, which is another way of saying the strings aren’t strictly pitched from low to high. The vihuela’s tuning is much like the first five strings of a guitar, but with the lower courses tuned higher. Most notably, the back of the instrument transformed into its characteristic convex shape, affectionately known as la jaroba. This unique curvature isn’t just for aesthetics; it’s a key contributor to the vihuela’s incredibly bright and resonant tone, allowing it to project over other instruments. While the exact reasons for this design shift are debated among historians, it undeniably gave the Mexican vihuela its unique sonic and visual identity—a true testament to organic instrument development.
“The Mexican vihuela remains an indispensable part of mariachi music, its lively strumming instantly evoking the spirit of Mexico.”
By the 19th century, the vihuela was deeply integrated into various forms of Mexican folk music, not solely confined to what we now recognize as mariachi. Historical accounts show it played in diverse regional styles alongside instruments like harps and violins. Its smaller size made it portable and perfectly suited for impromptu sessions and communal music-making—traits that resonate with any gigging guitarist.
The vihuela’s ascendance to international recognition, however, came with the rise of modern mariachi in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. As mariachi ensembles solidified their instrumentation, the vihuela became a cornerstone of the armonía (rhythm) section. Its higher register and percussive attack cut through the ensemble, providing rhythmic and harmonic accompaniment with distinctive strumming patterns, complementing the deeper tones of the guitarrón and the melodic lines of the trumpets and violins.
For guitarists, the vihuela’s playing technique is where things get truly interesting. Often played with a powerful strum that uses all the fingernails—a technique called the mánico—it generates a driving and energetic pulse that’s both rhythmic and harmonic. While understanding chord voicings is crucial, the articulation of the mánico is paramount, providing the foundational groove and propelling the music forward. This rhythmic sophistication is so integral that the specific mánico strum pattern is often how experienced listeners identify the style of music a mariachi band is performing.
It’s a common misphrasing to say, “They are playing mariachi music,” when in fact, mariachi is the ensemble, performing various musical styles within its framework. Just as a symphony might play a sonata, rondo, or minuet, a mariachi ensemble performs styles including rancheras, huapangos, waltzes, sones, corridos, boleros, and polkas, to name a few. And the vihuela’s strumming, or mánico, is often the identifying factor.
Today, the Mexican vihuela remains an indispensable part of mariachi music, its lively strumming instantly evoking the spirit of Mexico. It’s a living legacy, a testament to the blend of cultural heritage and musical innovation. In honor of Hispanic Heritage Month and the celebration of Día de los Muertos, I’ve included photos of a custom Mexican vihuela I recently built for Olivia Nuñez, an artist performing with Herencia Mariachi Academy in Corona, CA. It features symbols representing cherished memories of her family members who have passed away—a perfect representation of not only the music it shares, but also the profound importance of Mexican culture and family it embodies.
The vihuela’s journey is a captivating one for any string player. It stands as a powerful example of how instruments evolve and adapt, ultimately finding their own distinct voice within a new cultural landscape. The next time you hear the spirited strum of a vihuela, you’ll appreciate its rich history—a story etched in wood and resonating through generations of captivating Mexican music.
When you think about the most name-checked guitarist of all time, who do you think of? Hendrix? EVH? Good guesses, but we think it’s gotta be Waukesha, Wisconsin’s own Les Paul. Though his name lies atop one of the most popular guitar models of all time, there’s so much more to Les. His inventions span modern recording history, and with his music—whether with then-wife Mary Ford, solo, with Chet Atkins—he left a mark across genres. And though neither host owns a Les Paul, we’ve both shared space with The Log.
I recently published my book Creative Rhythms for Melodic Instruments or Think Like a Drummer, and I’m delighted to say it has been met with great enthusiasm by players and educators. The premise is simple: Take some of the most iconic drummers—from all genres—and use “in-the-style-of” drum fills as source material for melodic phrases, all in a variety of scale and arpeggio patterns, as well as multiple keys.
In addition to the notation, I also released audio examples in a call-and-response manner, allowing musicians to play along with the melodic phrases, with the isolated drums, or respond to the phrases with their own ideas. (Note: The audio for the book features drums and piano, as the book is available in several versions: guitar tab, bass tab, treble clef, bass clef, Bb instruments, and Eb instruments. Nevertheless, for this lesson I have specifically recorded electric guitar.) I also want to point out that the examples in this lesson are not duplicates from the book, but rather, as the book encourages, creative variations.
Icons of the Drum Kit
As I wrote in my book’s introduction, there are countless phenomenal drummers absent from my examples. I can name at least two dozen more drummers I wish were included (in fact … I’m working on Vol. 2). So let’s not nitpick as to who’s the best drummer, let’s just start playing: In the style of …
Ex. 1
Ringo Starr
It is unnecessary to rehash how underrated Ringo is. Instead, listen to the third verse of “Hello, Goodbye,” “A Day in the Life,” or any of the Live at the BBC recordings. Ringo has style! Ex. 1 is a Ringo-style fill, with lots of space (drummers, it’s okay to rest), and features both descending D Dorian and C major scales. (Remember, D Dorian is just C major starting on D.) Emphasize those rests, people!
Ex. 2
Bill Ward (Black Sabbath)
Of all the drummers in my book, I think Bill Ward’s fills are the most recognizable. Bill has distinct flair and an overlooked swing feel. To honor Black Sabbath in general, Ex. 2 features E minor pentatonic and E harmonic minor, played in descending groups of three. That’s down three notes, back one, and down three from there. Groups of three is a rather cliché move, still, when you add a unique rhythm—as demonstrated here—the pattern takes on new life.
Ex. 3
Neil Peart
What more needs to be written about Peart? Or Rush in general? Nothing. Legends. The end. Ex. 3 is based on one of Peart’s most iconic fills (you’ll guess it.) and uses A Phrygian dominant, in two octaves, in homage to Alex Lifeson’s solo on “YYZ.”
Ex. 4
Richard Bailey
Bailey is arguably the least well-known drummer in my book, but I guarantee, if you love guitar music, you know his playing. Bailey is the drummer on Jeff Beck’s Blow by Blow (and many other albums and singles). Ex. 4 is the first to showcase arpeggios, in this instance, F#7 to Emaj7, implying an F# Mixolydian sound, from the home key of B, emphasizing the V chord. Think “Freeway Jam.” One thing that makes these rhythms unique are the ties from the “and” of 1 to the 2, as well as the tie from the “a” of 2 to the 3. This is tricky!
Ex. 5
Stewart Copeland
One of my favorite things about Copeland is that he rarely played the same thing two nights in a row. I highly recommend listening to live recordings from the 1979–1980 Reggatta de Blanc tour, particularly the breakdown section (after the guitar solo) of “So Lonely.” Consistently brilliant and incomparable. They might have been the best band in the world on that tour. Ex. 5 provides us with a Copeland-esque fill (note that grace note on beat 4) and a C#m pentatonic lick with bends and pull-offs, à la “Message in a Bottle.” If you’ve never paid attention to Andy Summers’ fills in that song, do so. He’s more B.B. King than “King of Pain” on that one.
Ex. 6
Chester Thompson
It’s difficult to know who Thompson is most famous for playing with, Weather Report, Santana, Genesis, or, for my money, Frank Zappa. Thompson’s tenure with Zappa allowed him to truly experiment with rhythm. Listen to “Approximate” on You Can’t Do That on Stage Anymore, Vol. 2 The Helsinki Concert. Ex. 6, in keeping with Zappa’s penchant for two-chord jams, demonstrates more arpeggios, F7 to Gm7, in the home key of Bb major. In this one-measure phrase, we have eighth-notes, dotted-eighths, 16th-notes, and 32nd-notes. This should test your rhythmic abilities.
The final two examples feature drummers who are not in my book, so I’m happy to share them here: John Bonham (of Led Zeppelin) and Carlton Barrett (of Bob Marley and the Wailers).
Ex. 7
John Bonham
No, I’m not highlightingBonhamkick drum triplets. Rather, Ex. 7 features a Bonham snare/floor tom/kick drum combination. And the phrase I created also pays homage to his bandmate Jimmy Page, with an A blues riff, modulating to C blues (name that tune!) that includes more guitaristic phrasing.
Carlton Barrett
While Bob Marley might be the face of reggae, Carlton Barrett, along with his brother, Aston, on bass, may be the defining sound of reggae, as the brother duo played on countless Marley recordings and live performances. While Ex. 8 does not include a “one drop” (look it up, or just listen to “One Drop” by the Wailers), it is still quintessential Barrett. The melodic phrase is built with ascending arpeggios, Dmaj7 and Gmaj7, the I to IV chords, in two different patterns and positions.
Infinite Rhythmic Combinations
Besides the fact that I enjoy playing the examples myself, one of the reasons I wrote my book is because I believe rhythm is the most important feature in music, and yet it is underutilized. While these examples demonstrate quite a bit of variety, the fact of the matter is, rhythmic combinations are infinite. I encourage you to studiously experiment with uncommon phrasing. Intuition is great, but eventually, in my experience, it becomes unconsciously repetitive. So sit down and really work on distinctive rhythmic phrases. I promise you, you will never run out of new ones.
