Everyone knows the feeling of playing the same old blues licks time and time again. You don’t have to get stuck in this rut, and in fact there is an awesome way out of it.
Intermediate
Advanced
- Convert your simple pentatonic boxes into chromatic powerhouses.
- Learn how chromatic enclosures and passing tones can be used when playing the blues.
- Understand how to use diminished scales over dominant 7 chords.
The greatest modern blues players all have a fantastic understanding of how to inject “outside” notes into their phrases to create new and wild sounds. Those crazy-sounding notes are chromatic tones, but placing them in the right spot is what takes a phrase from dull to amazing. I’m going to show you how to take a boring blues scale and make it hip and exciting.
Chromatic Enclosures
If you’re used to playing pentatonic blues scales, then making a few small adjustments to how you visualize these scales will allow you to start adding chromatic notes to your phrases. Playing over a major blues, the commonly used notes would be the 1–2–3–4–5–6–b7. Ex. 1 introduces several chromatic notes using a technique called “enclosure.” This is when a target note is approached from above and below before being played. Chromatic enclosures are when you employ non-diatonic (chromatic) notes.
Ex. 1
The b5, b3, b6 and b9 are all used as a way of targeting the scale note nearest to them. Beginning on the b5 (Eb), the lick moves to the 5 as it climbs up the A major pentatonic scale (A–B–C#–E–F#). A chromatic enclosure is then used beginning on beat 3. The 4 (D) is played followed by the 2 (B) before the chromatic target note b3 (C). The exact same concept and fingering is used beginning on the “and” of beat 1 in measure three. The b6 (F) is targeted using enclosure in between the b7 (G) and 5 (E). As part of the final few notes, the root (A) is targeted using enclosure between the b9 (Bb) and b7 (G), which outlines a diminished 7 idea.
Passing Tones
One of the easiest ways to use chromatics in your playing is to simply connect scale tones using the notes in between them (i.e. passing tones). Ex. 2 utilizes this concept, which is often found in jazz playing. We can use the same blues scale from the last lick. However this time we are connecting scale tones rather than simply using chromatic enclosures. In measure one on beat 3, the B descends to the A using the Bb as a passing note. In measure two there is another three-note passage where the middle note is a passing tone, going from F# to E using the F in between. Later in that measure there is a four-note passing tone idea in which the D is connected to the B simply by descending chromatically across all four notes.
Ex. 2
Changing Directions
A great tool when using chromatics is changing the direction of the chromatic notes. This helps break up the repetitive feel of using passing tones. In Ex. 3 the beginning of this C7 lick starts with a chromatic slide into the root note and then descends from Eb to C before climbing back up to E on the 12th fret. However, instead of just climbing down and back up, using the b7 on the 2nd string creates an immediate direction change as the note drops down before the scale continues back upward. To help stop this from sounding simply like a descending and ascending scale, the changes in rhythm and direction occur simultaneously to create a more musical phrase. Just for fun, the last part of the lick uses a minor blues idea with a b5 passing tone.
Ex. 3
Start Using Grace Notes
Stevie Ray Vaughan fans may recognize a specific sound in this slow Bb7 blues lick. Ex. 4 starts with a standard blues bend opening, but just as SRV liked to do, the b9 is used as a grace note to and from the root. By slurring from the root note to the b9 and back you can create a grace note that sounds like a flurry when done quickly. In measure 2, the quick slide from the E to the Eb and then the quick hammer-on from the Db to D are great ways to use fast, slurred grace notes to hint at chromatic tones without
Ex. 4
Connecting The Blues Box
When playing in your standard minor blues box, it’s incredibly easy to use chromatics, because you have multiple passing notes right there under your fingers. In Ex. 5, the first measure of this E9 lick simply climbs up the minor box via a triplet lick that crosses the middle four strings. Then it jumps from the C# up to the G# on the 1st string and descends chromatically all the way to the root note on the 12th fret. This passing tone idea is then repeated by connecting the 15th fret on the 2nd string to the 12th fret. In the middle of measure three there is a common blues idea of playing the b3 into the 3 using a slide, but notice, this is also part of a chromatic enclosure. This is then repeated in measure four, but this time as a grace note hammer-on. The coolest part of the lick is the end where it slides from the C (b6) to the C# (6) and then plays two chromatic tritones back to back (C# to G and D to G#).
Ex. 5
Double-Stops
Double-stops are a great way to use chromatic ideas because they connect nearly identical shapes down the neck. In this country-sounding lick in B, this concept is laid out on the 3rd and 2nd strings descending down the scale. Ex. 6 has us starting on a B major double-stop moving down through the scale. If you mapped out the double-stops without all the passing tones they would outline these chords: B–A–G#m–F#m–E–D#m–C#m–B. However, because of the similarity in shape between these double-stops, it is very easy to simply play passing tones between them. Once again, the rhythmic variety helps to stop this from sounding like an exercise and makes it much more musical. The end of the lick uses single-note passing tones to finish up the phrase.
Ex. 6
Diminished Sounds Are Awesome
Fusion players love the use of chromatics. The reason for this is that introducing the b9 to a dominant 7 chord creates a diminished 7 chord. Ex. 7 showcases this diminished sound over a D7#9 chord. The lick starts with a diminished arpeggio sweep on the three high strings near the D blues box at the 10th fret. The next four notes outline the half-whole diminished scale (3–#9–b9–1). There are also a series of half-step bends that hint at these diminished notes, helping to create a variety of articulations instead of simply plucking everything. To further create a diminished sound, the use of a tritone is found in the middle of the last measure when the C to F# is played.
Ex. 7
7 to 5 Always Works
By now you probably have a decent understanding of how to include chromatic notes in your playing. However, one common rule will pretty much always work when playing over a dominant 7 chord. Ex. 8 showcases the rule of descending from the b7 to the 5 of any dominant chord. This passing tone idea is a great way to create a subtle yet sophisticated phrase. This E7#9 lick plays through this 7 to 5 concept twice, but the rhythm is what makes it sound different each time. Notice how each time the 7 to 5 concept is used it is merely on the way to a separate target note. This is key to the phrasing. Instead of making any of the chromatic notes or the 7 or 5 the target of the phrase, this idea simply is used to introduce a new note, which is the accented target note. The first time it is used at the beginning of measure one, the target note is E. Then later in measure four the target note is G.
Ex. 8
Mix and match these cool ideas and you’ll definitely add some spice to a recipe that can occasionally get a little stale for us all. Have at it!
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With the release of his latest solo EP, Vertiginous Canyons, the former Police guitarist shares in-depth on his personal journey from Romani caravan to becoming a peer of Eric Clapton’s to shaping a modern dialect of jazz-rock innovation.
This past June, onstage at a handsomely restored vaudeville theater in Washington, D.C., the guitarist and composer Andy Summers made a small but spirited crowd laugh. Hard.
Summers, who rose to fame in the late 1970s as one third of the new-wave phenomenon the Police, told many stories and landed many punchlines. There was the episode in which he and John Belushi partook of psychedelics in Bali, and the time he got kind of hustled by a striking, guitar-playing Long Neck Karen villager in Thailand. He recounted a gut-busting tale of taking a few too many sleeping pills on a trip to South America. With perfectly British dryness and timing, he improvised an aside about living near Arnold Schwarzenegger in Los Angeles, and how he just had to kick the Terminator’s ass.
Out of the Shadows
“I think it’s turning into a standup routine, basically,” Summers said recently over Zoom. He was being self-effacing. Mostly, this one-man multimedia show, entitled “The Cracked Lens + A Missing String,” allows Summers to reflect on enduring passions with sincerity, by “integrating these two media I’ve been working on for so long”: music, of course, and art photography, where his work combines painterly composition with street-level intimacy and the global-citizen mission of Nat Geo.
Behind projections of his photos, and between the storytelling and odd video clip, he gave a two-hour recital of solo guitar music. Summers played a new yellow Powers Electric A-Type guitar, and began his show by telling his audience how thrilled he was with it. (Summers has accrued around 200 guitars, many of them given to him, and maintains that he’s “definitely a player,” not a collector.)
Summers spent a significant part of his 20s studying classical music, originally inspired by Julian Bream. Now, onstage in his one-man show, it's clearly time to reflect on his past.
Summers began touring “The Cracked Lens” before the pandemic—the final show prior to shutdown took place at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, in 2019—and picked it up last year. It’s evolved, he says, through improvisation and trial and error, following a process much like one he’d put into motion for any band or project.
In D.C., the setlist was both surprising and deeply satisfying. Newer solo music like “Metal Dog” came off as delightfully arch and abstract, a reminder that Summers hit the Billboard albums chart with Robert Fripp, with 1982’s I Advance Masked. A sterling chord-melody arrangement of Thelonious Monk’s “’Round Midnight” spoke to the lifelong impact American jazz has had on the guitarist. A winsome mini-set of bossa nova, including “Manhã de Carnaval,” Luiz Bonfá’s theme to the film Black Orpheus, illustrated Summers’ devotion to both the cinema and the music of Brazil.
And yes, there was Police material, too, which Summers reharmonized and rearranged and used as vessels for longform improvisation. Atop programmed backing tracks, he treated songs like “Tea in the Sahara,” “Roxanne,” “Spirits in the Material World,” and “Message in a Bottle” as if they were his beloved jazz standards, drawing agile lines in and around the harmony, using pop hits as a launch pad for wending single-note narratives. In a small theater, it felt as if you were eavesdropping on Summers, whiling away an afternoon in his home studio. An excitable woman behind me couldn’t help but try and banter with him as he stalked the stage; the guy to my right played air drums. This was thrilling—especially if you were a Police fan whose context for these songs was sold-out arenas.
A New Installment
To combine music and imagery was also the impetus for Vertiginous Canyons, Summers’ recent solo EP. Commissioned as an accent to the guitarist’s fifth photo book, A Series of Glances, the project features eight spontaneously composed instrumental pieces of pop-song length. Its sparkling, layered, and looped soundscapes serve as Zen-like mood music for viewing the photographs. By design, Summers improvised Vertiginous Canyons in a single afternoon without too much fuss, using mostly his early ’60s Strat. “This was drone-like, ambient, atmosphere stuff that I thought was enough,” Summers explains. “Because I suppose you could get into a place, let’s say, where the photography and the music are fighting each other.
“One of the cardinal rules of scoring films, which I’ve done many,” he adds, “is don’t get in the way of the movie.”
On Vertiginous Canyons, listeners will hear influences from Eno to Hendrix to Bill Frisell.
As with Summers’ solo show, the music can stand alone. In many ways, Vertiginous Canyons also comes off like Eno or classical minimalism or the edgiest strain of what can be called “new age”—an engaging yet accessible entryway to experimental music. And as with any effective musical abstraction, what you’ve heard in your life is what you’ll hear in Vertiginous Canyons. The twinkling, fluttering phrases of “Blossom” bring to mind Bill Frisell. “Translucent” and “Village” summon up Glenn Branca’s guitar armies in their quietest moments, ramping up toward euphoria. “Blur” is a far-out exercise in Hendrix-style backwards soloing; “Into the Blue” is Pink Floyd meets Popol Vuh.
Greatly moved by Julian Bream as a young man, Summers spent a sizable chunk of his 20s immersed in classical guitar in California, as hard rock and the singer-songwriters ascended. When I ask him if those studies informed Vertiginous Canyons, his response is rapid-fire. “Definitely. I mean, I spent years doing nothing but classical music, classical guitar,” he says. “It’s very important information that I took in … and it stayed with me the rest of my life.
“So my ears are wide open.... I’m a sophisticated harmonic player, and it’s also informed by classical music. I’m sort of all-’round educated in the ways you can do music.”
Summer Reflections
To let an artist’s age guide your judgment of them is unfair. But in Summers’ case, it’s essential to understanding how and why he became such a fascinating guitarist, one whose whip-smart, cross-cultural approach overhauled the prevailing notion of what rock-guitar heroics could be in the late 1970s and early ’80s.
He was born on the last day of 1942, “a kid from the English countryside,” he says. His father was in the Royal Air Force; his mother supported the war effort working in a bomb factory. Alongside Django Reinhardt, he’s on the short list of guitar idols who spent their earliest days in a Romani caravan, which his father bought in the face of a housing shortage. In terms of rock generations, think about it: Jimi Hendrix was born in November of ’42, Keith Richards in ’43, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page in ’44, Pete Townshend and Eric Clapton in ’45. Summers debuted the cinematic, reggae-soaked sound that made him famous on the Police’s Outlandos d’Amour, in 1978, as the punk explosion gave way to post-punk and new wave. But his contemporaries are the British bluesmen who were architects of the psychedelic era and won over the baby boomers.
Andy Summers' Gear
When Summers, pictured here performing with the Police in 1982, began developing his blues chops, he blended in complex chords and jazz phrasing.
Photo by Frank White
Guitars
For touring:
- Fender Custom Shop Stratocaster
- Powers Electric A-Type
Amps
- Fender Twin with Fender Special Design Speakers
- Fractal Axe-Fx III
- Bob Bradshaw 100-watt head
- Roland JC-120
- Various Mesa/Boogie heads, cabinets and power amps
Effects
Current Pedaltrain pedalboard includes these effects, among many others:
- TC Electronic SCF Gold
- Electro-Harmonix Micro POG
- DigiTech Whammy
- Klon Centaur
- TC Electronic Brainwaves
- MXR Carbon Copy
- Electro-Harmonix Freeze
- Paul Trombetta Design Rotobone
- TC Electronic Dark Matter
- Mad Professor Golden Cello
Picks & Strings
- Dunlop Andy Summers Custom 2.0 mm Picks
- D’Addario Strings, mostly .010–.046
The electric-blues revivalism that his peers favored was a scene with which Summers engaged mostly by circumstance. In some capacity he was immersed in it, gigging and recording with hot R&B acts of Swinging Sixties London. But as a developing guitarist, he also transcended its stylistic boundaries, and he ultimately missed out on the wildly lucrative parts of it, after it’d evolved from nightclub entertainment to chart-topping, festival-headlining pop.
“[We’re talking about] real modern electric-guitar history,” Summers says, “because I was really pretty close with Clapton. We all knew each other. There were about five or six of us, and we all played at one club [the Flamingo, in London].
“I watched Eric develop, and he had this mission to play the blues … and he ripped off some great blues solos,” Summers adds, with a mischievous chuckle. “I had grown up with different kinds of music in those formative [teenage] years, when you’re taking it all in and trying to be able to do it.”
So much has been written about how the ’60s British-guitar titans tapped into early rock ’n’ roll influences and Chicago blues, rescuing the latter from obscurity in its country of origin. But it’s important to remember the profound impact that midcentury modern jazz had on culturally curious young Brits; in fact, the moniker “mods”—that clothes-obsessed cult that gave us the Who—began as “modernists,” as in devotees of modern jazz, R&B, soul, and ska.
Before meeting Sting (left) and forming the Police, Andy Summers (right) was close friends with Eric Clapton and once jammed with Jimi Hendrix.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
Summers was hooked. Guitarists Wes Montgomery, Jimmy Raney, Kenny Burrell and Grant Green ranked among his favorites, alongside Sonny Rollins. Rather than sticking to 12-bar patterns, Summers shedded on complex chord sequences and jazz phrasing, logging “thousands of hours of listening, trying to get it. But that’s where the feel of the time comes from, which is the most important element.”
“Eric and I talked about it,” he continues, “and I was in a different place. I don’t think we really had arguments about it, but he was absolutely a disciple of the blues, where I was more into other things.” Summers loved the fleet, chromatic lines of bop, and classical guitar, and African and Indian music. He recalls transcribing Ravi Shankar.
“So I felt like I very much had my own path, and it wasn’t the Eric Clapton path. I was aware of all that, but Eric was deeply into B.B. King — gave me his B.B. King record, actually—Live at the Regal, told me to check it out. So I did listen to it, and yeah, okay, I get it. But my head was elsewhere.” (During that period, Summers also sold Clapton a ’58 Les Paul, after Slowhand’s 1960 model was stolen. “It was guitar craziness,” Summers says. “I really anguished over selling my Les Paul, but I just wasn’t into it. I think there was something wrong with the pickup—at least I thought there was, in my sort of naivety at that time.”)
Nor was Summers’ path the Hendrix path. Because of his friendship with the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s drummer Mitch Mitchell, Summers once jammed in the late ’60s with Jimi. “A quiet guy with a very loud guitar. And he could play the shit out of the guitar,” Summers laughs. “He was definitely sort of a force of nature. You’d feel it.” At an L.A. studio where the Jimi Hendrix Experience was in session, Summers began playing with Mitchell on a break. But “Jimi just couldn’t stay away from the music,” Summers recalls. So Hendrix picked up a bass to anchor Summers’ guitar, until Jimi asked to trade.
“I think of it almost as a sort of a comic moment,” Summers reflects today. “Jimi had come into the scene and … didn’t really play like anyone else. I mean, he played Jimi Hendrix … incredible, but I didn’t really want to play like that. I’ve got to find my own thing. It was very imperative to me not to be yet another Hendrix copier. And I think it’s what he would have appreciated, too.”
Although the first album by the Police was released in late 1978, Summers already had an extensive catalog of recordings with Eric Burdon, Kevin Ayers, Kevin Coyne, Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band, and Joan Armatrading before “Roxanne” alerted the world that a new kind of pop group was arriving.
To hear Summers on pre-Police recordings is intriguing; even on straightforward forms, his good taste and sense of harmony present a shrewd, knowing alternative to his peers. Seek out the 1965 LP It Should’ve Been Me, by Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band: On a take of Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City,” Summers applies the single-note harmonic finesse of Grant Green to barroom British R&B. (It was Green’s Gibson ES-330, a surprising instrument for a jazz picker at the time, that inspired Summers to pick up an ES-335 after his ES-175 was stolen.) A few years later, as part of Eric Burdon’s New Animals, Summers covered Traffic’s “Coloured Rain,” going long on a fuzztone solo that fits the psychedelic bill while also telling a story with precision and patience.
Summers’ ship came in nearly a decade later, after he’d returned to England from California and met drummer Stewart Copeland and a singer and bass player, Gordon Sumner, who went by “Sting.” They were bright, dexterous, and culturally well-versed, with backgrounds in prog and jazz. “I think we had a credo,” Summers says, “and it was spoken out loud: We don’t want to sound like anybody else.
“I found I could talk to Sting and say, ‘I want to play this kind of altered chord here. What do you think?’ He could sing right through anything. He had the ears to be able to sing it like a jazz singer. Not that we were trying to lay ‘We’re really jazzers’ on the public. We were trying to present ourselves as a rock band with songs. But the information that we were putting into those rock-song arrangements was different.”
Summers in a late ’80s promo photo, near the start of his solo-recording career.
For Summers, that meant matching the musicianship he’d started earning as a teenager on jazz bandstands with the au courant sounds of post-punk and reggae, filtered through emergent sonic technology. With his heavily modded 1961 Tele and custom Pete Cornish pedalboard, he offered chord sequences and lines that have challenged and educated generations of practicing guitarists brought up on blues-rock technique. Alongside his deft use of open space, he was that rarest rock guitarist who paid serious mind to chord voicings. “My job was to turn the chords into something more unusual,” Summers says, “to have more unusual guitar parts. For instance, something like ‘Walking on the Moon,’ I put in a Dm11 chord, with reverb and a beautiful chorus sound. So it’s got the 11th on top, and immediately it grasps your ear. It’s like the signature of the song was that chord.”
“So my ears are wide open.... I’m a sophisticated harmonic player, and it’s also informed by classical music. I’m sort of all-’round educated in the ways you can do music.”
Of course, no other Summers guitar part or Police song made bigger waves than 1983’s “Every Breath You Take.” Influenced by Bartók’s “44 Duos for Two Violins,” Summers crafted a repeating figure that underlined Sting’s standard pop-song structure while avoiding conventional triadic harmony. (Losing the third from tired rock chords was Summers’ not-so-secret weapon.) “It gave it that haunting quality that made the whole track come to life,” Summers says, “because otherwise, I think we would have dumped the song. It wasn’t one of our favorites at all.”
The Police last performed on their historic reunion tour of 2007 to ’08, and their relationship today is mostly business. “We’re not hanging out with each other,” Summers says. “We’re all in touch through headquarters.” One thing they’ve had to agree on this year is a Super Deluxe reissue, toasting the 40th anniversary of the Synchronicity album, which provides new context that might safely be called revelatory. Among the new box set’s many previously unreleased goodies is Sting’s original demo for “Every Breath You Take,” weighed down with synth keyboards that pile on the sentimentality and pin the track squarely to the 1980s. (Unlike so much ’80s pop-rock, the Police’s music has aged well.) “You can see the transformation,” says Summers.
“Every Breath You Take” became a global smash that ranks among pop’s most successful songs, a feather in the cap of the band that owned the late ’70s and ’80s. Consider this: At a time when his psych-era peers were considered middle-aged Flower Power relics, Summers was leaping around onstage like a bleached-blond atom and representing pop rock’s bleeding edge on MTV. Now, at 81, he’s found a way to forge ahead and, in some fashion, improve on the past.
Call The Police (Andy Summers / João Barone / Rodrigo Santos) - Synchronicity II (ensaio/rehearsal)
With bandmates João Barone and Rodrigo Santos, of Police tribute band Call the Police, Summers displays the adept riffage that brought him to the big stages and helped solidify his rock legacy.
Leveling Up
When we connect on a followup call in mid July, Summers is in Brazil, about to embark on a South American tour with his trio, Call the Police. This tribute project of a sort features two celebrated Brazilian rockers, bassist-vocalist Rodrigo Santos and drummer João Barone, and plays hits-filled live sets to packed houses. “It’s sort of enhanced, because it gets looser. It’s a bit uptight with those other guys I play with,” says Summers.
With regard to those other guys, that uptightness had much to do with the punk and new-wave era that bore the Police. The relationship between punk and the band was complicated. Somehow, they managed to use the movement’s greatest lessons—in energy, creative bravery, and concise songcraft—without pandering to its musical primitivism. Summers’ reputation amongst guitarists rested in the minimalist intelligence of his decision-making; you kind of understood he could play anything, but he was mature enough not to. “I didn’t feel the need to crush everybody with every guitar part,” he says.
“It was more like a guitar solo is supposed to be a mark of the old guard. You weren’t supposed to be able to play; it was really that dumb.”
Nevertheless, he believes that punk’s principle of non-musicianship kept him from exploring the songs to their fullest. “I think I should have played more solos than I was given the space to do,” he says. “It pisses me off actually, because this came more from Stewart. When we started the band in the thick of the hardcore-punk scene, it was more like a guitar solo is supposed to be a mark of the old guard. You weren’t supposed to be able to play; it was really that dumb.”
“I was a virtuoso player,” he adds, “so it was very frustrating for me. Later, when we did sort of open it up, it really got more exciting. The fact that I could play as well as I did, I found it was a bit threatening. Because the highlight in a performance of a song … would be the guitar solo.”
As in “The Cracked Lens + A Missing String,” Summers can stretch out in Call the Police to his heart’s content. At long last. “It’s very improvised,” he says, “and they’re up to the level where they can do that. They go with me. It’s how it should always have been.”
Designed by legendary bass player and founding member of Jefferson Airplane, this instrument features a Casady-designed JCB-1 Low-Impedance Humbucker and a three-position rotary impedance control for versatile tones.
As a founding member of Jefferson Airplane and Hot Tuna, legendary bass player and Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductee Jack Casady’s full driving tone and innovative melodic bass work have defined the role of bass guitar in rock and roll for decades. Liberating the bass from its traditional role as part of the rhythm section, Jack’s pioneering approach to bass brought the instrument to the forefront. The new Epiphone Jack Casady Fretless Bass was and is the culmination of years of experimentation by Casady to find an instrument with superior electric tone and the response of an acoustic bass. It features the Casady-designed JCB-1 Low-Impedance Humbucker, and a three-position rotary impedance control for a wide range of tonal versatility.
Jefferson Airplane’s debut, Jefferson Airplane Takes Off, was recorded in February of ’66 and released in August of that year. “It had somewhat of a local success,” explains Jack. “It was the material that we had been playing as a group around the Bay area for a while. We recorded it on 3-track, all pretty much live performances.” When the original singer, Signe Anderson, left the band to have a baby, it was Jack who convinced Grace Slick, then performing with her own band the Great Society, to join the group. The roster complete, Jefferson Airplane rocketed to superstardom in 1967 on the initial strength of their hits “Somebody to Love” and “White Rabbit,” making them a cornerstone of San Francisco’s burgeoning rock scene. Jack’s ground-breaking bass work was a highlight of Surrealistic Pillow, the Airplane’s 1967 breakthrough album. “That album was really a unique statement,” says Casady in retrospect. “There were a lot of different styles of songs contributed by everybody, including an instrumental acoustic fingerpicking original tune by Jorma called ‘Embryonic Journey.’ It was quite an eclectic album and I think it still holds up today.” Jefferson Airplane subsequently released a string of acclaimed recordings–After Bathing At Baxter’s (late ’67), Crown of Creation (’68), the live Bless Its Pointed Little Head (’69), Volunteers (’70), Bark (’71), Long John Silver (’72), and the live Thirty Seconds Over Winterland (1973). The band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995.
With the release of his solo album, Dream Factor, Casady opened a new chapter in his ever-evolving career. Featuring 11 songs and an impressive cast of collaborators including Paul Barrere, Ivan Neville, Jorma Kaukonen, Warren Haynes, Box Set, Fee Waybill, and Doyle Bramhall II among others, Casady showcases his signature sound in a variety of settings, traveling through blues, rock, country, folk, funk, R&B and soul influences.
One of the most innovative rock and roll bands in American music, Hot Tuna recorded their latest album, Steady As She Goes, at Levon Helm’s studio with GRAMMY®--winning producer Larry Campbell and captures the energy of Hot Tuna’s live performances. Jack, along with longtime band mate Jorma Kaukonen, teamed up with Barry Mitterhoff on mandolin, Skoota Warner on drums, as well as Larry Campbell on guitar, fiddle, organ, and vocals to deliver an absolute masterpiece.
With sweeping chords and stormy melodic lines Jack’s bass distinguished not only Jefferson Airplane and Hot Tuna but also a variety of solo and side projects and recordings with artists including Jimi Hendrix, David Crosby, Warren Zevon, Country Joe and The Fish, SVT, Rusted Root, and Gov’t Mule.
For more information, please visit epiphone.com.
Dan Wilson is a bandleader, teacher, and a Grammy-nominated guitarist who’s played alongside organ-jazz master Joey DeFrancesco and bassist Christian McBride. He’s on the short list of players who are experts of Grant Green’s singular swinging sound. We called Dan to talk about our favorite entries in Green’s long discography. From trio dates to cowboy jazz to his funk period, we cover it all.
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The End Will Show Us How is scheduled for global release on January 10, 2025.
Mark is backed in Tremonti by Eric Friedman (guitars), Tanner Keegan (bass) and Ryan Bennett (drums). Each song on The End Will Show Us How is intended to take the listener on a journey as Mark sets out to create an album of a dozen individual compositions each unique from the other. The debut single “Just Too Much” is a perfect example of this. The song opens with a driving guitar riff – the basis for the entire song - as Mark delivers the message to keep pushing forward no matter what adversity is in front of you.
Tremonti’s musicianship and songwriting is on full display on each song on The End Will Show Us How. Tracks like the opener “The Mother, The Earth and I,” the thought provoking “It’s Not Over” and the epic closer “All The Wicked Things” show that Mark continues to create compositions that continue to engage audiences - both old and new fans alike. “Nails” is a musical idea that Mark has had for years and finally found the inspiration to complete. “Tomorrow We Will Fail” is an inspirational piece that talks about not putting off until tomorrow something you can conquer today. “Now That I’ve Made It” is a message for anyone who has ever had anyone doubt them and try to hold them back from following their dreams. The End Will Show Us How was produced by longtime friend and collaborator Michael “Elvis” Baskette – the producer Mark has worked with exclusively since 2007.
The End Will Show Us How