Beginner
Intermediate
- Develop a deeper understanding of the sound of each mode.
- Learn several different ways to create modes.
- Improvise over simple vamps that outline the defining characteristics of each mode.
This lesson assumes you already know your way around the diatonic scale and its various fingerings. Hopefully this will provide myriad tonal colors you have yet to utilize from within those same patterns. Most of us go through three steps before modal knowledge is of practical use.
Three Phases to Understanding the Modes
Phase 1
This is the introduction to the modes many of us receive:
The Ionian mode is the major scale.
The Dorian mode is a major scale starting on the 2nd degree.
The Phrygian mode is a major scale starting on the 3rd degree.
The Lydian mode is a major scale starting on the 4th degree.
The Mixolydian mode is a major scale starting on the 5th degree.
The Aeolian mode is a major scale starting on the 6th degree.
The Locrian mode is a major scale starting on the 7th degree.
While this is all true, once you memorize that the obvious question becomes, “Yeah, so what?” And that’s an excellent question. Since we’re always referencing a “parent” major scale, you can recycle your diatonic fingerings. You’ll also arrive at the correct answer on your test in guitar school—but it’s not anything that you’ll likely use to make actual music.
Phase 2
This phase provides a little more clarity. This explanation compares the difference in each mode from the basic major scale. In fact, most all scales are described relative to a major scale. For example, a major pentatonic scale is a major scale minus the 4th and 7th degrees.
The anatomy, or intervallic structure, of each mode is more clearly described via this explanation. It goes like this:
The Ionian mode is the major scale. (Old news from Phase 1.)
The Dorian mode is a major scale with a b3 and b7.
The Phrygian mode is a major scale with a b2, b3, b6 and b7.
The Lydian mode is a major scale with a #4.
The Mixolydian mode is a major scale with a b7.
The Aeolian mode is a major scale with a b3, b6 and b7.
The Locrian mode is a major scale with a b2, b3, b5, b6 and b7.
All of this is also correct but knowing this is still little more than a badge of honor in a round of Trivial Pursuit.
Phase 3
Phases 1 and 2 are useful for attaching these fancy names to collections of notes and knowing where to place your fingers. Phase 3 turns these abstract concepts into sounds that don’t require a slide rule or decoder ring to figure out what notes you’re supposed to play.
In Phase 3, we don’t trace each mode back to a major scale. Each mode is now its own thing. It’s its own key. It’s its own sound.
To get to this place of modal nirvana we need to be able to hear these scales as chords versus bothering with all of this math contained in the first two phases. Let’s make a chord progression, or vamp that aurally represents each modal sonority.
For our examples we will use an A pedal tone in the bass. A will be the tonic of each of our seven modes. We’ll begin with the A Ionian mode (A–B–C#–D–E–F#–G#). We’ll now take the IV and V chords and play them on top of the A pedal as in Ex. 1. (The written examples show a simplified version of what’s on the audio track. The point isn’t for you to copy my rhythm parts, but to easily understand the harmonic movements.)
This is a tidy package that you now play your major scale over. Record yourself playing this and then play the A major scale over it. This won’t require much ear stretching as you’ve likely heard this sound your entire life. This is a nice progression that is an effective chordal representation of the mode.
Ex. 2 utilizes the same method to achieve an A Dorian sound (A–B–C–D–E–F#–G). A Dorian’s parent scale is G Major. The IV and V chords of G major are C and D. Play the C and D triads over our A pedal tone and relish the Dorian vibe. Some might catalog this in their mind as having a Santana sound. While the notes are the same as those found in the key of G Major, we’re playing A Dorian. A is the root—not G. That is part of what we’re doing here: Relate to the scale on its own terms. Improvising on this vamp will reinforce that in your ear and you’ll have a recognizable sound vs. a formula.
The parent scale of A Phrygian (A–Bb–C–D–E–F–G) is F major. Seeing the method unfold? Take the IV and V chords from F (Bb and C) and superimpose them over an A bass note to arrive at Ex. 3. Assign your own adjective to the sound you’re creating.
Each of the modes has a distinct mood doesn’t it? It could be argued that the modes should be called the moods.
Next up is the A Lydian mode (A–B–C–D#–E–F#–G#). A Lydian is the fourth mode of E major so let’s take the IV and V chords, A and B, and play them over our A bass pedal (Ex. 4). You may associate this sound with the theme song from The Simpsons or Tom Petty’s “Here Comes My Girl.”
Have you noticed that even though our “bass player” has been playing a single note this entire time we are arriving at drastically different A sounds? This is how players like Joe Satriani and Steve Vai keep solos interesting over longer periods of time while the harmony is static. The harmony is changing via the soloists’ note choice and requires no one else playing chords.
Moving on to A Mixolydian (A–B–C#–D–E–F#–G) in Ex. 5. A is the 5th degree of a D Major scale and the IV and V chords of D are G and A. Jeff Beck’s “Freeway Jam,” the Beatles’ “Day Tripper” or just about anything from the Grateful Dead or other jam bands exemplify this sound nicely.
Next is the A Aeolian mode (A–B–C–D–E–F–G) or natural minor scale. This is another one with which your ear will be immediately comfortable. This is the relative minor key to C Major. The IV and V chords from C are F and G. Let your cat walk across the white keys of your piano while playing Ex. 6 and even that will sound great.
Last up is A Locrian (A–Bb–C–D–Eb–F–G). This key is derived from Bb Major, the IV and V chords are Eb and F respectively and we get the introspective Ex. 7. Play the A Locrian scale and finally enjoy this mode that may have seemed so ugly before. It’s a beautiful sound—use it!
Hopefully this lesson provides a different, more useful way of hearing the modes instead of memorizing a cryptic note formula. Each mode is now its own key, not just a major scale starting on a different degree. Spend time with each of these examples and really listen to each note. Sure, blasting scales at hyper-speed can be fun, but this is more of a listening thing. Go slow and enjoy your new-found mastery of the modes. Oh yeah, you can also recycle or give away all of those books that keep describing Phase 1.
The signature-Strat-slinging melodist releases an instrumental version of “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away,” paying homage to two musical legends.
We’re all still mourning the January 2023 death of the great Jeff Beck. For 6-string virtuoso Johnny A., it seemed natural to channel his grief into music. Known for his series of instrumental albums, stretching from his 1999 release Sometime Tuesday Morning to his latest, Driven, A. has now released a heartfelt version of John Lennon’s composition for the Beatles, “You’re Got to Hide Your Love Away,” that doubles as a homage to Beck’s stellar instrumental work. Listen here.
“Loss is a universal human experience where the absence of something or someone significant causes an emotional or material vacancy,” A. says. “Each person copes uniquely; for me, music has always been a great healer.” And so, in that spirit, he crafted an arrangement that would feel very much at home on Beck’s immortal classic, Blow By Blow–or alongside the late wizard’s version of Cutis Mayfield’s “People Get Ready.”
A subtle introduction paves the way for A.’s Strat interpretation of Lennon’s vocal melody, with a fat, burnished tone plucked from Beck’s wheelhouse. From there the track builds in intensity even while preserving the song’s original emotional intention. A companion video is also in the works. For more, visit johnnya.com.
Originally introduced in 1975 as part of the Schaffer-Vega Diversity System (SVDS) wireless system, this mini boost pedal originated from a 1/4” headphone jack intended for monitoring purposes.
"The SVDS Boost is a recreation of one of the first full-frequency boosts ever used on stage."
Originally introduced in 1975 as part of the Schaffer-Vega Diversity System (SVDS) wireless system, this mini boost pedal originated from a 1/4” headphone jack intended for monitoring purposes. However, guitarists and bassists soon discovered an unexpected benefit: by connecting their instruments to the headphone output, they could boost their signal by up to 30dB.
Legendary guitarists like Angus Young, David Gilmour, Eddie Van Halen, Carlos Santana, and more utilized this technique. The SVDS Boost is a faithful reproduction of this iconic boost, which may very well be the first full-frequency boost ever heard on stage.
The Sound
Unlike typical clean boosts, the SVDS Boost adds vintage coloration and harmonics that instantly transport you to the golden era of rock. The unique "Goalpost" EQ design enhances the extreme ends of the frequency spectrum, while maintaining the integrity of your mid-range. With up to 30dB of boost, the SVDS unlocks new tonal possibilities, delivering rich harmonics, singing sustain, and even controlled feedback.
Pedal
Placement The SVDS Boost truly shines when placed after other overdrive, distortion, or fuzz pedals, adding dynamic response and restoring low-end fidelity that can often be lost with mid-boost pedals. Its ability to enhance your existing gear is unparalleled, making your guitar, amp, and pedals sound better than ever.
Build
Quality Precision-built using high-quality components, the SVDS Boost is designed to withstand the rigors of professional touring. Its robust construction ensures years of reliable performance, whether in the studio or on the road.
Availability
The SVDS Boost is now available at solodallas.com and authorized SoloDallas dealers worldwide.
Price: $129 USD.
While this forgotten, oddball instrument was designed with multidextrous guitarists in mind, it never quite took off—making it a rare, vintage treasure.
At Fanny’s House of Music, you never know what strange or fascinating relics you might find. Guitorgan? Been there, sold that. A Hawaiian tremoloa fretless zither? We’ve had two.
Recently, the oddest of odd ducks strolled through Fanny’s front door. It looks like a Harmony Wedge lap steel that was thrown in the dryer to shrink a little bit. It has two flatwound bass strings, in reverse order from where you’d expect—the higher string is on the left side if you’re looking at the instrument’s face. Each string has its own fretting surface, bent at a 135-degree angle away from each other, and the frets are labeled with note names. A raised, thin strip of wood separates the strings from each other on the fretboard.
Oh, wait a moment. Did we say “fretboard?” We should have said “footboard.” Allow us to introduce you to the 1970s Mike Miller Foot Bass. That’s right—you play this adorable critter with your feet. The strings are tuned a fifth apart from each other. By setting the instrument on the ground and rocking your foot back and forth over the neck, you get a standard country root-fifth bass line—completely hands-free. Are you a guitar player? All you need is one of these puppies and a drum machine and, poof! You’re a whole band!
Along the “footboard” are markers for note names.
Thank goodness for the internet, which gave me access to the original promotional materials for the Foot Bass. Emblazoned with the all-caps header, “BE YOUR OWN BASS MAN,” its pamphlet extols the virtues of the Foot Bass. Describing it as “practically maintenance free,” it guarantees you’ll “amaze friends and audiences,” and “make extra MONEY.”
A brief meander through the United States Patent and Trademark website revealed the patent, whose filer was equally concerned with finances. “A currently popular form of entertainment is provided by an artist who both sings and accompanies himself on a guitar,” it reads, as if this hasn’t been a popular form of entertainment for a very long time. “The performance of such an artist may be enhanced by adding a bass accompaniment.... However, such an additional bass accompaniment ordinarily requires an extra artist for playing the bass and therefore represents an additional expense.” Sorry, bass players. Clearly, you all do nothing but cost us guitar players money.
“That’s right—you play this adorable critter with your feet.”
Be prepared to dig through your closet when you embark on your Foot Bass journey. If you start with your trusty Doc Martens, you’re in for a disappointing experience. Deep treads make for messy notes and poor contact with the strings. And while barefoot playing allows for more nimble, adventurous basslines, the lack of a rigid surface prevents the “simple and convenient” operation promised by the patent. What you need, as one Fanny’s employee described, are “church shoes”—something with a low profile and a flat sole.
This Mike Miller Foot Bass is from the 1970s, and has a patent for its design.
Even with the right footwear, playing the Foot Bass takes some getting used to. There’s a bit of foam under the pickup cover that mutes the strings when you’re not playing them, but you can still make a remarkable amount of clatter with this thing. It’s a subtle motion that works best, and it certainly takes practice to master it. Add in multiple chords or—be still, my heart—walking up from one chord to the next? Give yourself a couple weeks in the woodshed before you schedule your next show.
If you’re looking for something to watch tonight, there’s a documentary you can find on YouTube called Let Me Be Your Band. It covers the history of one-person bands, starting with blues pioneer Jesse “Lone Cat” Fuller and continuing up to the early 2000s with the careers of Hasil Adkins and Bob Log III, among others. It’s a touching portrayal of ingenuity and spunk, and an ode to owning your weirdness. Not a single person in Let Me Be Your Band had a Foot Bass, though. It’s high time the Foot Bass was celebrated for its cleverness and played by an enterprising solo act. It’s a bit like Cinderella’s glass slipper here at Fanny’s. We can’t wait to see who tries it on for a perfect fit.
Fuzz, octave, and odd intervals co-mingle and clash with bizarre, mangled, musical, pretty, and often shockingly unpredictable results.
Scores of tones that span the musical and the ridiculous. Fun and ferocious fuzz. Octave can be used independently. Often intuitive in spite of its complexity. Tracks pitch shifts without glitches
Easy to get lost in the weeds if you don’t do your homework.
$249
Keeley Octa Psi
robertkeeley.com
I’d venture that most guitarists instinctively regard fuzz as a brutish, brainless effect (which is funny given how much energy in our community is dedicated to dissecting the nuances and merits of different fuzz types). Keeley’s Octa Psi, however, transcends mere troglodyte status by combining a fundamentally nasty fuzz voice in three switchable variations, and a web of octave and interval tones that transform the Octa Psi into a synthesizer capable of textures ranging from soaring to demented to downright evil.
Crush of the Space Invader
It’s no mistake that the little figure adorning the face of the Octa Psi looks like a sinister cross between a Space Invader and a Cylon. The Octa Psi often evokes the 8-bit, synthy sounds of ’80s arcade games. But the fact that the Octa Psi’s sounds range to cartoonish extremes shouldn’t suggest to a potential user that the Octa Psi is anything less than musical. And the smart, if complex, control layout ensures you can span both extremes with ease.
The Octa Psi is effectively made up of an analog fuzz and a digital octave section. The knobs on the fuzz side are no-brainer stuff: fuzz, master level, and tone. The 3-position toggle, however, expands the potential of those three knobs exponentially. In each mode the fuzz has a cool, snorkel-y, almost filtered essence, with hints of cocked-wah snarl. The punch voice features a bass-heavy profile that’s cloaked in pea-soup fog at the extreme treble-cut/bass-boost ends of the tone control’s range, but crushes like a Tony Iommi-operated wrecking ball in the middle section. The psi mode is even thicker and doomier, though not just heavier in the bass. There’s also more midrange presence that lends extra definition and makes the fuzz feel more explosive under the fingers. The scoop setting, in very relative terms, sounds almost thin compared to the other two. But no voice is exactly short on power here, so perhaps it’s best to call it focused. Each of these modes, which already have heaps of tonal range thanks to the versatile tone knob, can be altered dramatically by the octave section.
Getting a feel for the octave options definitely takes practice. And though intuitive exploration of the possible combinations is rewarding, it’s essential that you do your homework if you want to maximize the pedal’s potential and avoid musical muddles. The Octa Psi’s complexity is largely down to the fact that it gives you much more than just a few octaves up or a few octaves down to work with. First, you can blend in the amount of octave signal. Then there are eight pitch modes available via the rotary switch. Each of these modes shifts in character, depending on whether you select the octave up, octave down, or dual octave setting with the toggle switch. But you can also reshape the tone by pressing and rotating the blend switch, which, depending on where you’ve set the other octave controls, will add octave intervals, like sharp ninths, stacked fourths, and major and minor voicings. Additionally, each of the preset modes will save your settings in dual mode—even after you unplug.
Controlled Chaos
There is another reason the video game correlation implicit in the Octa Psi logo is appropriate: At times, using it can feel like the sky above your moon base is raining laser bombs and you’re being menaced by alien aircraft from all sides. It can be really chaotic, particularly if you’re finding your way by ear rather than consulting the extensive pitch matrix in the manual. Chords are sometimes rendered into atonal glop, and, like any octave fuzz, it’s often easiest to stick with single-note lines.
But for all the mayhem Octa Psi can unleash, finding a clear musical path can be easy and feel like striking gold. Plus, the pedal is, in its way, quite forgiving. It tracks pitch changes well, and rarely collapses on itself—even when executing whole step bends colored by dissonant intervals. You can also use the octave without the fuzz, which yields conventional sounds like pretty faux-12-string, watery chorus tones, and subtle harmonies for clean leads.
The Verdict
The Octa Psi’s power and tonal vocabulary is impressive. You’ll have to be brave or have a very good memory to move between radically different settings on a dimly lit stage. And we didn’t even mention the wealth of “advanced” settings that include volume tilt, pitch ramping, effect order shifts, and more. But the bounty of smooth-to-sick sounds here means the Octa Psi could be a difference-maker in a studio or recording environment when you’re reaching for tone colors and moods that break norms. And though the Octa-Psi could, on the surface, seem nichey, it’s fun to think about the many musical styles and applications where its sounds could find a home—from doomy Sabbathoid chug, to film scores, to glitchy hip-hop hooks, to video-game sound design.