
Intermediate
Intermediate
- Gain an understanding of what raga rock is and how it developed.
- Learn how to mix modes to create harmonic and melodic ambiguity.
- Experiment with uncommon fingerings and scale patterns.
In early 1965, while the Beatles were filming their second movie, Help!, George Harrison became fascinated by the sitar during a scene in which the Fab Four go to an Indian restaurant. Later, during the summer of that year, David Crosby (then of the Byrds) gave Harrison a Ravi Shankar album, thereby solidifying Harrisonās interest in Indian music, and providing us the English/American connection. Finally, in the fall of 1965, Harrison would record himself playing sitar on āNorwegian Wood,ā more or less initiating the raga rock style.
Coincidently, also in the summer of 1965, the Yardbirds recorded āHeart Full of Soul,ā which originally had a sitar player booked for the session. According to Jeff Beck, as he demonstrated the songās hook for the sitarist, Beck himself realized that he could play the part betterāexaggerating the vibrato and bends to mimic the sitar. More on that later.
One last detail before we proceed: One of the clichĆ©s of raga rock is to simply add traditional Indian instruments to a recordingāsitar, tabla, tamboura, etc. Youāll hear this in countless songs recorded between 1965 and 1969. This lesson will have none of that. Instead, the examples here take Indian musical techniques and approaches and apply them to the guitar (and to a lesser degree the accompaniment). In my opinion, this is the best of raga rockāstylistic influence, not artless impersonation. There is also a certain naivetĆ© in the finest of this music: While George Harrison went on to study Indian music seriously with Ravi Shankar, others were interested in creating a general atmosphere that could be gleaned from listening and experimentation. Most of the examples demonstrated here highlight those attributes.
A Raga Rock Timeline
One of the best places to start with Raga Rock is the relatively simple D major scale exercise found in Ex. 1, which comes directly from a video of George Harrison demonstrating the basics of sitar techniques, while Ravi Shankar watches.
What makes this example Indian-influenced is the fact that the scale is played entirely on one string, moving up and down the fingerboard (as opposed to over or across) and it keeps pedaling back to the open D string. The vibrato is also exaggerated throughout. Itās worth pointing out that Harrison clearly fumbles at the beginning of the exerciseāeven Beatles slip up!
Ex. 2 takes this scale-on-one-string idea one step further (as several of this lessonās specimens will) by mixing modes while droning the D string throughout. Inspired by Paul McCartneyās solo on āTaxmanā, this phrase uses both the major 7 (C#) and the b7 (C natural) in measure two, while emphasizing the b3 (F natural) in measure three and, conversely, the major 3 (F#) in measure four. This modal mixture is a hallmark of raga rock.
As mentioned in the introduction, another early example of Indian-influenced guitar phrasing is Jeff Beckās playing on the Yardbirdās āHeart Full of Soulā. Thus, Ex. 3 imitates Beck imitating the sitar, with exaggerated bends and vibrato. Once again over a D drone, this time implying a D Mixolydian sound. Note: In order to keep the drone ringing, youāll need to pull all the bends toward the floor and away from the D string, as opposed to a stereotypical blues bend.
Though the song was composed by David Crosby, it was Roger McGuinn who played the solo on the Byrds āWhy,ā using his ubiquitous 12-string Rickenbacker. Influenced by āWhy,ā Ex. 4 is another one-string solo thatās fun to play whether you own a 12-string or not, as itās the phrasing and subtle mode mixingāmajor 7 (D#) in measure three but b7 (D natural) in measure seven that contribute to this leadās raga sound
Inspired by a slightly more obscure sample of raga rock, Ex. 5, emulates the Doversā āThe Third Eyeā which displaces the idea of the droning open string from low to high. In this case, the high E string rings open throughout the solo. Unlike all the previous examples, this one is played over a two-note groove, rather than a one-note drone.
Similar to Ex. 5, Ex. 6drones a high open string, the open B. In this study, one can hear shades of the Rolling Stonesā āPaint It Blackā, which, thanks to the Im to V accompaniment, also has an Eastern-European feel to it.
Ex. 7ās āproto-neo-classical-jam-bandā sound copies the amazing Butterfield Blues Bandās āEast-Westā (composed by Mike Bloomfield and Nick Gravenites). This heavy groove driven solo emphasizes half-steps (a raga rock trademark), mixing both D Phrygian and D Double Harmonic Minor scales throughout.
Lastly, Ex. 8, based on the Kinksā āFancy,ā plays with the unique idea of a pseudo-Drop D tuning. I write āpseudoā as the guitarās low E tuning machine is being used to create the unstable ābendsā from low D up to E, adding to the psychedelic sound. Furthermore, the melody is harmonized in 5ths, which, while not traditionally an Indian tonality, does evoke the Far East, which raga rockers are inclined to do, not confining themselves to one locale. Parts one and three of this example are once again played on a 12-string.
Raga Rock from the 1960s to Today
If youāre looking for more raga rock, there are plenty of examples that go beyond the scope of this lesson (more routinely containing the aforementioned use of traditional Indian instruments, which I avoided, or alternate tunings). Most notably from the 1960s are āOmā the Moody Blues, āMakerā the Hollies, āSmell of Incenseā West Coast Art Experimental Band, and āDefecting Greyā the Pretty Things (which also contains a brief section of thrilling, extremely heavy [for 1968], noisy, pre-punk music). And the tradition continues to this day, with far too many contemporary (mostly underground) acts to list here. Needless to say, raga rock will surely continue as a genre, with plenty of techniques, melodies, and rhythms for future generations to mine.
An ā80s legend returns in a modern stompbox that lives up to the hype.
A well-designed recreation of one of the most classic tone tools of the ā80s. Sounds exactly like the tones you know from the original. Looks very cool.
If you donāt like ā80s sounds, this isnāt for you.
$229
MXR Rockman X100
Was Tom Scholzās Rockman the high-water mark of guitar-tone convenience? The very fact that this headphone amp, intended primarily as a consumer-grade practice tool, ended up on some of the biggest rock records of the ā80s definitely makes a case. And much like Sonyās Walkman revolutionized the personal listening experience, itās easy to argue the Rockman line of headphone amps did the same for guitarists.
MXR Rockman X100 Recreates Tom Scholz's Iconic Boston Guitar Sound | First Look
Enjoy the videos and music you love, upload original content, and share it all with friends, family, and the world on YouTube.But just as decades of advances in listening technology make the Walkman now seem clunky and dated, modern guitar tech makes the Rockman look like old news. Multi-effects units, modelers, and portable interfaces all surpass the convenience of the Rockman in form factor as well as in sheer number of sonic options. But while there are any number of ways to dial up an ā80s-style guitar tone these days, nothingās better than the real thing. The Rockmanās analog tones are still as legit as it gets. Though Dunlop continues to produce the Guitar Ace, Metal Ace, and Bass Ace headphone amps (for a cool $99 street), a pedal version with the functionality of the original would be the ultimate modern package for ā80s fetishists, right? Enter the MXR Rockman X100.
With Tones Like These, Who Needs Options
After the release of the original Rockman, Scholz continued to develop the product, spawning a whole line. But for its pedal resurrection, the MXR team set their sights on the Rockman X100, which used hard-clipping LED diodes for its two distorted settings. The new stompbox version recreates all four modes from the original: cln2 is the default setting, cln1 in the second position is EQād with a mid-boost, edge delivers moderate clipping, and dist is high-gain. All are switchable via a small LED-lit mode button, and a control input allows for external mode switching. Another button activates an analog chorus circuit using MN3007 bucket brigade chips, as in the original.
To drive home the ā80s aesthetic, MXR used sliders for volume and input gain controls. Volume determines output, while input gain is tied to compression. Higher input gain means more compression, which is tuned for slower release on the two clean modes, and a fast release on both dirty modes. The X100 works in both mono and stereo, but to change between them, you have to pop off the back to access an internal switch. Just make sure a TRS cable is used for stereo mode, or else the output will be muted while the pedal is bypassed.
The only things I noticed that are missing from the originalās simple set of features is the headphone output and the echo settings. I donāt know how many players would find value in the headphone jack, and considering that would add circuitry, itās probably best for cost and space savings that it was excluded. As for the echo, you can argue that itās canon, but I find it to be the least essential feature and donāt miss it, personally.
(Much) More Than a Feeling
Since I do not have an original Scholz X100 sitting on my desk, Iām using YouTube videos and recordsāDef Leppardās Hysteria, Huey Lewis and the Newsā Sports, and Joe Satrianiās Surfing with the Alien, for exampleāas my reference points. Those are high bars to clear, and the MXR gets there.
The default cln2 setting delivers instant gratification, with a full-bodied, sparkly tone, no matter what guitar I played through it. And though it provides loads of ā80s fun, itās much more versatile than that, offering a great all-round clean tone that requires no additional processing. Though it might seem odd that cln2 is the default, switching to cln1ās thinner, more mid-focused sound makes the design decision clear. I can imagine situations where Iād need to cut through a mix and cln1 would be preferred, but I found myself sticking with the default mode for all my clean needs.
The distorted modes are differentiated mostly by how much gain they offer. Edge tones live just beyond the point of overdrive, and the input gain control adds a range of extra texture. The dist mode is full-on, pick-squeal-inducing high-gain saturation, with loads of everlasting sustain. These modes lean into the aesthetic much harder than the clean modes, making it a less versatile tool, but for ā80s rock excess, I canāt imagine a better option.
On a couple recording sessions, I plugged the X100 right into an interface and board to deliver spanky direct clean tones as well as tight, saturated distortion. In doing so, I discovered that direct recording is my preferred use for the X100. Thatās not to say it doesnāt sound great through an ampāit does. But plugging into a front end of an amp yields less classic and authentic Rockman sounds, as the amplifierās preamp colors the tone. Plugged through a few Fenders, I found that the treble needed taming, a problem I didnāt have when forgoing the amp. For live playing, I might explore plugging the X100 into the return input on an ampās effects loop or right into a powered speaker to deliver an unadulterated Rockman sound more in line with the original.
The Verdict
MXR nailed it with the Rockman X100 pedal by focusing on the limited options of the original unit and getting them just right. For $229, you not only get a great ā80s rock tone, you get what is arguably the ā80s rock tone, with no other gear required, unless you want to add a little ā80s-vintage reverb too. As a performance tool, itās probably best to think less like youāre using a pedal and more like youāre using the original in a different form, which is to say that plugging straight into an amp isnāt the only way to get the sound you wantāand, in fact, itās probably not even the best way. For recording, itās a perfect tool. PG
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AI, which generated this image in seconds, can obviously do amazing things. But can it actually replace human creativity?
Technology has always disrupted the music biz, but weāve never seen anything like this.
AI has me deeply thinking: Is guitar (or any instrument) still valid? Are musicians still valid? I donāt think the answer is as obvious as Iād like it to be.
As a professional musician, Iāve spent the vast majority of my days immersed in the tones of tube amps, the resistance of steel strings under my fingers, and the endless pursuit of musical expression. Each day, I strive to tap into the Source, channel something new into the world (however small), and share it. Yet, lately, a new presence has entered the roomāartificial intelligence. It is an interloper unlike any Iāve ever encountered. If youāre thinking that AI is something off in the ānot-too-distant future,ā youāre exponentially wrong. So, this month Iām going to ask that we sit and meditate on this technology, and hopefully gain some insight into how we are just beginning to use it.
AI: Friend or Foe?
In the last 12 months, Iāve heard quite a bit of AI-generated music. Algorithms can now ācompose,ā āperformā (with vocals of your choosing), and āproduceā entire songs in minutes, with prompts as flippant as, āWrite a song about__in the style of__.ā AI never misses a note and can mimic the finer details of almost any genre with unnerving precision. For those who are merely curious about music, or those easily distracted by novelty, this might seem exciting ⦠a shortcut to creating āprofessionalā sounding music without years of practice. But for those of us who are deeply passionate about music, it raises some profound existential questions.
When you play an instrument, you engage in something deeply human. Each musician carries their life experiences into their playing. The pain of heartbreak, the joy of new beginnings, or the struggle to find a voice in an increasingly noisy and artificial online world dominated by algorithms. Sweat, tears, and callouses develop from your efforts and repetition. Your mistakes can lead to new creative vistas and shape the evolution of your style.
Emotions shape the music we create. While an algorithm can only infer and assign a āvalueā to the vast variety of our experience, it is ruthlessly proficient at analyzing and recording the entire corpus of human existence, and further, cataloging every known human behavioral action and response in mere fractions of a second.
Pardon the Disruption
Technology has always disrupted the music industry. The invention of musical notation provided unprecedented access to compositions. The advent of records allowed performances of music to be captured and shared. When radio brought music into every home, there was fear that no one would buy records. Television added visual spectacle, sparking fears that it would kill live performance. MIDI revolutionized music production but raised concerns about replacing human players. The internet, paired with the MP3 format, democratized music distribution, shattered traditional revenue models, and shifted power from labels to artists. Each of these innovations was met with resistance and uncertainty, but ultimately, they expanded the ways music could be created, shared, and experienced.
Every revolution in art and technology forces us to rediscover what is uniquely human about creativity. To me, though, this is different. AI isnāt a tool that requires a significant amount of human input in order to work. Itās already analyzed the minutia of all of humanityās greatest creationsāfrom the most esoteric to the ubiquitous, and it is wholly capable of creating entire works of art that are as commercially competitive as anything youāve ever heard. This will force us to recalibrate our definition of art and push us to dig deeper into our personal truths.
āIn an age where performed perfection is casually synthesized into existence, does our human expression still hold value? Especially if the average listener canāt tell the difference?ā
Advantage: Humans
What if we donāt want to, though? In an age where performed perfection is casually synthesized into existence, does our human expression still hold value? Especially if the average listener canāt tell the difference?
Of course, the answer is still emphatically āYes!ā But caveat emptor. I believe that the value of the tool depends entirely on the way in which it is usedāand this one in particular is a very, very powerful tool. We all need to read the manual and handle with care.
AI cannot replicate the experience of creating music in the moment. It cannot capture the energy of a living room jam session with friends or the adrenaline of playing a less-than-perfect set in front of a crowd who cheers because they feel your passion. It cannot replace the personal journey you take each time you push through frustration to master a riff that once seemed impossible. So, my fellow musicians, I say this: Your music is valid. Your guitar is valid. What you create with your hands and heart will always stand apart from what an algorithm can generate.
Our audience, on the other hand, is quite a different matter. And thatās the subject for next monthās Dojo. Until then, namaste.
Our columnistās bass, built by Anders Mattisson.
Would your instrumental preconceptions hold up if you don a blindfold and take them for a test drive?
I used to think that stereotypes and preconceived notions about what is right and wrong when it comes to bass were things that other people dealt withānot me. I was past all that. Unfazed by opinion, immune to classification. Or so I thought, tucked away in my jazz-hermit-like existence.
That belief was shattered the day Ian Martin Allison handed me a Fender Coronado while I was blindfolded in his basement. (Donāt askāitās a long story and an even longer YouTube video if you have time to kill.) For years, I had been a single-cut, 5-string, high-C-string player. That was my world. So, you can imagine my shock when I connected almost instantly with something that felt like it was orbiting a different solar system.
Less than 5 minutes with the instrument, and it was all over. The bass stayed in Ianās basement. (I did not.) I returned home to Los Angeles, but I couldnāt stop thinking about it. I kept playing my beloved semi-chambered single-cut 5-string, but I sent its builder, Anders Mattisson, a message about my recent discovery. I asked if there was any way we could create something with the essence of a Coronado while still suiting my playing and my music.
Thatās when everything I thought I knew about bassāand the personal boundaries I had set for myselfācame crashing down.
When we started talking about building a bass with a fully chambered body, much like the Coronado, I was adamant about two things: It needed to have active electronics, and I would never play a headless bass.
Fast-forward three months to the winterNAMM show in California. Anders arrived for dinner at my house, along with a group of incredible bass players, includingHenrik Linder. I was literally in a chefās apron, trying to get course after course of food on the table, when Henrik said, āHey, letās bring the new bass in.ā
He came down the stairs carrying something that looked suspiciously like a guitar caseānot a bass case. I figured there had been some kind of mistake or maybe even a prank. When I finally got a break from the chaos in the kitchen, I sat down with the new bass for the first time. And, of course, it was both headless and passive.
I should mention that even though I had made my requests clearāno headless bass, active electronicsāI had also told Anders that I trusted him completely. And Iām so glad I did. He disintegrated my assumptions about what a bass āhas toā or āshouldā be, and in doing so, changed my life as a musician in an instant. The weight reduction from the fully chambered body made it essential for the instrument to be headless to maintain perfect balance. And the passive nature of the pickups gave me the most honest representation of my sound that Iāve ever heard in over 30 years of playing bass.
Iām 46 years old. It took me this long to let go of certain fundamental beliefs about my instrument and allow them to evolve naturally, without interference. Updating my understanding of what works for me as a bass player required perspective, whereas some of my most deeply held beliefs about the instrument were based on perception. I donāt want to disregard my experiences or instincts, but I do want to make sure Iām always open to the bigger pictureāto other peopleās insights and expertise.
Trusting my bass builderās vision opened musical doors that would have otherwise stayed bolted shut for years to come. The more I improve my awareness of where the line between perception and perspective falls, the more I can apply it to all aspects of my world of bass.
Maybe this month, itās playing an instrument I never would have previously considered. Next month, it might be incorporating MIDI into my pedalboard, or transcribing bass lines from spaghetti Westerns.
No matter what challenges or evolutions I take on in my music and bass playing, I want to remain openāopen to change, open to new ideas, and open to being proven wrong. Because sometimes, the instrument you never thought youād play ends up being the one that changes everything.