
You don't have to want to play like a jazz legend to practice like one.
Intermediate
Intermediate
- Develop a systematic method for mapping out arpeggios all over the fretboard.
- Learn to develop your own practice material.
- Understand how world-class musicians seem to never run out of ideas to practice.
Do you want to play like Pat Metheny? Me too. But truth be told, I have no idea how to do so, though I’ve really tried. It was very difficult to wrap my head around writing a lesson on Pat because the elements that make up his style are so varied and complex—the result of decades of investment on his part. Since he’s one of my very favorite musicians, the thought of writing a lesson about him seemed even more daunting. Of course, if it was easy, we’d all sound like our heroes.
So, where do we start? When studying great artists, it’s usually a good idea to study their process—not necessarily their final products. I’ve found that when you study the creative process, you can apply it to your own music and come up with your own individual style, rather than just resorting to mimicry and copying licks. Pat has a few signature licks, but mastering those don’t really get you that close to sounding like Pat. One thing we can say about Pat Metheny with confidence is that the man knows his guitar, music theory, and fretboard at a higher level than 99.9 percent of guitarists. I recently stumbled upon a video that proves this. It’s a rare glimpse into how Pat practices that will serve as the creative spark for this lesson. Maybe we can learn to practice like Pat.
The story goes that Pat was doing a clinic in Italy and had just answered a question from the audience. While the interpreter was translating Pat’s response for the audience, Pat started to practice. (Why not practice when you get a few spare minutes?) What an amazing glimpse we get into his mind during this time. The audience knew it was something special as they sat in stunned silence and let Pat play for nearly eight minutes. And the resulting music is incredible in its own right. I mean, who on earth practices this musically? There’s a lot of music in those eight minutes and we could study it for years at a time, but let’s focus on one aspect. It’s striking that what Pat is practicing sounds nothing like how he plays when he is improvising. And this is the central concept to our lesson and the key question to answer. What building blocks do great players study and practice that allow them to create? We’re going to focus on just the first element that Pat played: major 7 arpeggios.
You can and should study the rest of the video—it’s full of amazing ideas you can spin out into amazing things to practice. A great companion to this lesson would be Pat’s book, Guitar Etudes: Warmup Exercises for Guitar.
If you’re an improvising guitarist, major 7 arpeggios are one of the central building blocks you’ll need to improvise. Learn these really, really well. Jazz is largely made up of three arpeggios that serve as building blocks: major 7, minor 7, and dominant 7. Let’s tackle just part of the arpeggio puzzle here. In Ex. 1 you can see a simple Gmaj7 arpeggio (G–B–D–F#).
Ex. 1
We’re lucky that not only do major 7 arpeggios sound good, but we can easily take this particular fingering pattern and move it up the 6th string to transpose it. For example, shift Ex. 1 up three frets and you have a Bbmaj7 arpeggio (Bb–D–F–A), as shown in Ex. 2.
Ex. 2
Now, to make this much more interesting, we’re going to link the arpeggios together and follow the cycle of fourths to keep jumping from key to key. The pattern is going to go as follows: Ascend two octaves in 16th-notes and then descend until reaching the end of the measure. You’ll end up playing 16 notes and at the end of the measure, you stop on the 3 (B) of the Gmaj7 arpeggio (Ex. 3).
Ex. 3
Ending on the B is awesome, because the next arpeggio in the cycle is Cmaj7. And wouldn’t you know it that C is just one fret higher than B. We can now elegantly jump from the Gmaj7 arpeggio to the Cmaj7 by moving only one fret. Let’s do the same thing we did before: ascend and then descend, again stopping on the 3 (Ex. 4).
Ex. 4
We end the example on the 3 of Cmaj7 (E), which is yet again one fret below our next arpeggio of Fmaj7. We now have a quick little pattern that we can loop around the neck (Ex. 5).
Ex. 5
At this point, we have traversed from the 2nd position to the 10th position. We are not only learning about arpeggios, but we’re also getting a chance to explore the upper regions of the fretboard.
Now, we can’t keep looping like this indefinitely. We’re going to run out of room if we take the Bbmaj7 arpeggio up the neck like this, so we’re going to have to be flexible with the pattern. We still want to keep the cycle of fourths going, but we can’t continue the exact pattern. Thankfully, we can just drop one half of the arpeggio pattern down an octave and keep moving (Ex. 6).
Ex. 6
Now that we moved to a lower place on the neck, we can use the earlier pattern to take us from Fmaj7 to Bbmaj7. You basically have only a few shapes: one with a 6th-string root and two with roots on the 5th string.
Now it’s time for you to learn to fish. I’m not going to write out any more of the patterns—you have enough building blocks to complete this. What I will provide is the full pattern of the cycle of fourths, so you can play the right arpeggios in the right sequence to loop this around. Here it is:
G–C–F–Bb–Eb–Ab–Db–Gb–B–E–A–D
The pattern of fourths is symmetrical. The goal is to be able to start anywhere, in any key, and loop your arpeggios through the cycle of fourths. Once you get the hang of it, you should be able to loop this endlessly.
Beyond just learning the examples above, there are a couple of things to take away from this set of exercises.
Ditch the Patterns
If you watch the video a few times, you’ll quickly realize that Pat isn’t playing a set pattern. It’s not a specific etude that he’s practicing, but rather he’s generating music within some simple boundaries. Pat has created an algorithm for generating practice material: Play a measure of a major 7 arpeggio, smoothly transition to another major 7 arpeggio in the cycle of fourths, and repeat.
He’s jumping around the neck, changing octaves, sometimes playing some scales to connect. It doesn’t matter that it’s morphing and changing a little over time. What matters is that he’s sticking within the harmony for some set period of time and being creative about how he generates materials. And that’s the trick. The building blocks allow for tons of flexibility, especially in jazz. Next time, instead of thinking about this as a strict practice exercise, imagine this is a jazz standard that only has one chord per measure, but the tune is just major 7 chords that ascend in fourths. How can you take these arpeggios and add some passing tones to make them into jazz lines? (Hint: “Autumn Leaves” has two major 7 chords a fourth apart in the changes.)
It’s the Notes, Not the Shapes
You have to learn the notes in the arpeggios. To players at Pat’s level, they’re not just fingering patterns—they are collections of notes. It’s totally fine to start with shapes and refine as you go, but if you want to operate at this level, you’re going to have to know the names of the notes on the fretboard and the notes that belong in any arpeggio, chord, scale or key. This is just a single exercise to help you get there.
Move Beyond Major
You can now easily take the major 7 arpeggios and morph them in minor 7 and dominant 7 concepts to generate additional material to practice with. This lesson is just one example of arpeggios you can move in the cycle of fourths; dominant 7 arpeggios work exceptionally well in this context.
Your Job
Now it’s up to you to generate your own musical materials. This lesson was just a single example. But go back to the video for inspiration. Could you just play freely for seven minutes like Pat did? Could you play in a structured enough way that you’re improvising ways to practice and generating material like he can? Not everyone can do this for that long, but you’ll hear Pat joke that he could continue for hours ... and I totally believe him.
Find the elements that make up your own style and find interesting ways to apply them to the neck. Constraining yourself to a single measure per key and shifting in the cycle of fourths is a super fun way to give yourself just enough structure to follow, while staying loose enough to create something. Pat has been doing this for over 40 years, so we all have a lot of catching up to do!
- Beyond Blues: CAGED Developments - Premier Guitar ›
- Book Review: "Guitar Etudes: Warmup Excercises for Guitar" By Pat ... ›
- The Tao of Pat Metheny - Premier Guitar ›
- Pat Metheny's Guitar Rig Revealed ›
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Club- or festival-provided stage amps can be hellish or angelic. Here are some of the devils and angels Premier Guitar’s editorial director has encountered along the road.
I have a slight allergy to backline amps. I shouldn’t, because I’ve played through a lot of them at clubs and festivals over the years, and most of my experiences have been fine, but I think a few bad combos and unfathomable heads put me off to a degree I can’t quite shake.
One of the first times I got the backline shivers was in the ’90s at a New York City club gig supporting John Sinclair, where I was told we would not need to bring amps. Awaiting me was a severely scarred Peavey Bandit combo with nary a knob left on its face, and the EQ and pre gain didn’t even have posts left. I just twisted a few stumps and gave up on the rest. How was the sound? Like an amplified fluorescent light bulb. On the other hand, I’ve never met a backline Peavey Classic series amp I didn’t like. Or, really, almost any backline amp that got the TLC it deserved, along with the heavy use. I once plugged into a right-out-of-the-box amp delivered to a club in Geneva by a then-emerging European manufacturer that sounded great during soundcheck, but its transformer died on the first chord of the first song in my band’s set. Luckily, they’d sent two, so we had to stop, open a box, mic the new amp, and jump back on the horse.Another case: I like a little drive, so imagine my dismay to find a backline at a satellite tent at a major festival with zero master volume amps. At the time, I wasn’t using effects—just a Strat and a Tele. So I plugged into a big blonde Fender and just turned up. The stage volume was brutal, but I had my tone so it was great. At least for me. I hope the drummer who played with me that day can still hear.
Sometimes, even speccing the backline doesn’t help. While playing a series of gigs in France, I requested either Vox or Marshall amps, such as an AC30 or JCM800, and at one big stage I encountered a fresh-looking JCM 2000 Triple Super Lead atop a 4x12. I must confess, I took one look at both decks of buttons and push-pulls and my heart sank. I was out of my comfort zone at the time. Try as I might, I could not get anywhere near the mocha, mid-ripe sound I get out of my ’72 Super Lead without turning up to a stratospheric level. I felt terrible. Not for the audience. It was an outdoor stage with plenty of open space. But for the stage crew. When one of them shouted, “Ted, es-tu psychotique?” between songs, I didn’t need to consult Google Translate to know what he meant. I was embarrassed and regretful about the volume, but had a great time playing, nonetheless. (Sorry, crew!)
“Awaiting me was a severely scarred Peavey Bandit combo with nary a knob left on its face, and the EQ and pre gain didn’t even have posts left.”
Over this summer I played a voter registration benefit, and the large venue that held it sent a really appealing backline list, with a Deluxe and a DeVille included. When I got there, there was a Deluxe but no other guitar amp per se. I had to play through a bass amp, and it was okay, thanks to my pedals, but a decidedly less-than-magical experience.
I feel like I’m whining, but like most of you I’ve spent years chasing a particular tone, and when I have my own rig it’s as delicious as German chocolate cake. So maybe I’m spoiled. And there are some backline amps I’ve coveted at gigs—like the humble Blues Junior at Nashville’s Eastside Bowl that’s been upgraded with a Deluxe transformer. It speaks eloquently.
There have been many other funky, hard-to-manage (at least for me) backline amps I’ve wrestled with over the years. After all, I’ve played in a lot of juke joints and roadhouses. And I used to sweat about it. But I finally made my “whatever” peace with backlines thanks to some advice from Luther Dickinson: “No matter what an amp sounds like, you have to stay out of your own head.” Just let the music fly.
In that spirit, two of this issue’s gear features deal with backlines. One is a public service: If you’ve never played through a backline, here’s what you should expect; or if you’re putting one together, as I’ve had to do many times, here’s what to consider. The other piece polls eight heavyweight guitarists on their own backline gear specs—lending insight on how established pros ensure that they sound like themselves under any circumstances.
So, if stage life throws you a lemon for an amplifier, just plug in and make it as juicy as you can. Don’t worry, because there’s another gig down the pike where you’ll sound exactly like yourself.
Two Notes Unveil the Next Giant Leap in Their Reactive Load Box Legacy With Reload II
Introducing Torpedo Reload II - Two Notes Audio Engineering's latest groundbreaking reactive load solution, featuring twin-channel operation, multi-impedance compatibility, and continuous attenuation. With a Celestion® Approved Load Response and 215W per channel power amplifier, Reload II redefines backline control.
Two Notes Audio Engineering, the world's leading innovator and manufacturer of load boxes, attenuators, and digital cabinet emulators, has just announced Torpedo Reload II - The latest installment in Two Notes’ class-leading reactive load solution legacy marking the definitive watershed in contemporary backline control.
Featuring twin-channel operation, selectable multi-impedance compatibility, and true continuous attenuation, Reload II is Two Notes’ most advanced Load Box to date. Its mission is simple: unleash the power of any amplifier or line-level source without compromise. Armed with a ground-up rework of their defining reactive load for a Celestion® Approved Load Response, the match is set to drive any amp’s power stage (rated up to 200W RMS) to perfection, retaining all the sonic integrity your performance demands. Scalable from a whisper to a full-throttle onslaught, Reload II’s ultra-transparent dual-mono 215W (per channel) amplifier/attenuator and paired speaker outputs preserve every facet of your tone. Add a Stereo FX Loop, dual Line outputs, and GENOME Reload II Edition (software download) into the mix and Reload doesn't just enhance your rig, it redefines it.
“When it came to developing Reload II, it was obvious this couldn't be a run-of-the-mill update of its predecessor. Fuelled by an ethos rooted in continual redefinition of contemporary backline control, we set our sights on a ground-up rework of our defining reactive load. The results speak for themselves: hands-down the best-in-class impedance match available on the market to date and the first reactive Load Box to feature an industry first Celestion® Approved Load Response.” Said Guillaume Pille, Two notes CEO. “Whether it’s a tube amp, a line level source, or even both simultaneously, all the hookup flexibility you demand from a Two Notes product is here. Throw a 215W (per cab output) power amplifier into the mix, and you’re primed with everything from studio-friendly silent loadbox operation to mainstage-ready source amplification. If that wasn't enough, there’s a suite of expertly-tuned tone-shaping tools - plus a super-versatile Stereo/Dual Mono FX loop - that all combine to make Reload II our most adaptable solution to date. The next generation of our Reactive Load legacy has arrived. It’s now up to you to reimagine your backline with everything the Two Notes ecosystem has to offer!
Reload II is now available for pre-order from Two Notes stockists worldwide, scheduled for shipping Q1 2025. At launch, Reload II ships with the following MAP / MSRPs
US: $999.99 (MAP)
Euro: 999.99€ (MSRP)
GBP - £849.99 (MSRP)
For more information, please visit two-notes.com.
Introducing Torpedo Reload II - YouTube
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-guitarist, known for his time with indie rock heroes Galaxie 500, Luna, and Dean & Britta, reunites with producer Kramer on his latest song-driven solo effort, That’s the Price of Loving Me.
“You want there to be moments where something unexpected hits you,” says Dean Wareham. “They’ve done studies on this. What is it in a song that makes people cry? What is it that moves you? It’s something unexpected.”
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.