Unlock the secrets of the double upstroke and how to impress girls at Disney World.
Theory: Advanced Beginner
Lesson Overview:
• Unlock the secrets of the double upstroke.
• Create three-note-per-string phrases while combining sweep picking and legato phrasing.
• Learn the secret to impressing girls at Disney World.
Click here to download a printable PDF of this lesson's notation and all of the MP3 audio files.
Throughout my life, there have been many incidents that caused me great grief and embarrassment.
When I was about 12 years old, my parents took me to Disney World, aka The Magic Kingdom. More specifically, to the Epcot theme park portion of The Magic Kingdom. Now, for those of you who haven’t been there, it’s really quite a lovely place. It’s full of magic, talking animals, and expensive stuff. And when you’re a 12-year-old boy, straining to grow out of your King Diamond falsetto voice and smacking face-first into the hard wall of puberty at 100 mph, it’s also a lovely place to view and attempt to impress young ladies.
Naturally, as with any self-respecting little heavy-metal kid of the ’80s, I had spent weeks—perhaps even months—preparing to unleash myself upon the ladies (read: girls) of sunny Florida. This involved, you see, decking myself out in my cutoff Ratt T-shirt, a pair of gym shorts that fit like Huggies diapers on my scrawny pale legs, and those awesome stripy tube socks we used to wear pulled up to our knees. My electric blue Puma low-top sneakers completed the whole ensemble.
Then there was my “almost” metal haircut. It curled like the wings of an angel around and behind my ears, gently falling the unfortunate too-short distance to my lower neck. The only way this could have been any better was probably a steel retainer in my mouth and a crash helmet. But, boy, I was heavy metal incarnate. (I must remind you all at this point that this was the ’80s and I was 12. Don’t use any of this against me in the future.)
So, as the story goes, we were walking into the Universe of Energy, I believe. It was the big, shiny, silver building with all the dinosaurs. I suppose I wanted to give the park visitors the idea that blood-spitting wolves of demonic origin raised me—this is very metal, you see. So, I walked a solid several paces behind my parents, thus hoping no one would make the connection of relation. (This is also very metal when you’re 12.)
I walked boldly and with great decision in my stride, as if I were carrying the giant metal banner for all to see.
I. Was. Metal. METAL, I tell you.
Now, as fate would have it I soon spotted a delightful young girl working the fruit slurpy stand, just a bit in front of the entrance. My metal-born adrenaline surged. This was what I had spent all those months in preparation for. This is what I practiced my best Dave Mustaine sneer in my bathroom mirror for. This was why I’d hiked my socks so far up my legs and taken scissors to my best t-shirt. I was called to action. The time had finally arrived.
I should briefly explain at this point in our adventure that, in order to accommodate the long lines, amusement parks put out heavy steel poles in front of exhibits, which they firmly secured into the cement with some magic locking system. These poles, in turn, are connected by strong nylon ropes and form a labyrinth of sorts, which within the period of what feels like years of slowly milling along like sheep, will eventually lead you to the attraction you came for. Sometimes when there are tons of people, you can imagine the line runs very slowly.
On this cheery sunny day we zipped through at an alarmingly quick pace. The place was practically empty. My skinny little legs pumping up and down in the hot Florida sun, my big stripy knee socks hanging on for dear life, my Mustaine scowl aimed at every passing happy park patron, the big Ratt logo on my t-shirt screaming at the world that I was a force to be reckoned with.
So cool. And so very metal.
I walked forcefully, quickly, and proudly. Then I decided to make my move. Now was the time. I abandoned my Mustaine sneer and put on my best Kip Winger pout, glancing purposefully at the hot chick. I was so in the zone. And then, she looked back and smiled at me!
Right as I ran smack dab into one of those metal poles I mentioned before.
Now, as you can imagine, those poles come just short of exactly the height of a very sensitive area. I’m talking about Wee Willy here, people. Captain Jack and the sparrows. Right in der kielbasa und sauerkraut.
Unfortunately, not only did I suffer the pain one encounters from smashing one’s twig and berries directly into an impenetrable obstacle, but I also managed to perform a complete flip over the pole and into the open arms of the hard concrete of the Disney street in front of spectators. It was in front of the Universe of Energy, in Disney World, and most importantly—in front of the object of my desire.
Ouch.
And so my friends, the moral of the story is: Never smash your Bilbo Baggins into a metal pole in front of a girl. Well, never do it in front of anyone, for that matter.
At this point, I’m sure you’re asking yourself, “What the hell does this have to do with guitar?” Nothing, really, I just needed cheap therapy from you all, thanks.
Seriously, though. This story always reminds me of the grief and embarrassment I suffered with the dreaded double upstroke—on guitar that is.
I can remember the first time I heard about the clever idea of crossing strings, ascending, with double downstrokes or the opposite version of descending and crossing strings with a double upstroke. I don’t know why, maybe it was gravity, but the ascending version was always easier. The descending, well, it became my Disney pole, so to speak. And just when I thought I was cool and started getting it under control, I hit the proverbial pole.
So, I put to use one of my practicing philosophies: Always use a wind machine to look cool like Steve Vai. Then I put to use another one of my practicing philosophies: divide and conquer. When things seem really too hard to do, find the most crucial element and practice it incessantly. Don’t think about the huge insurmountable mountain of doom.
In this case, it was the upstroke. So, rather than failing time and again by trying to apply it to an entire scale or arpeggio, I came up with a short exercise shown in Fig. 1. Three notes—very simple. The crucial element here is the wind machine I mentioned before and also to make sure you drag the two upstrokes across the strings and not individualize them by using a regular picking movement. Another helpful thing was use of the metronome. Start it slowly, practice for five minutes, focus.
Later, I began to use the exercise to make some cool licks, like the one in Fig. 2. Basically just moving it around, using the top note of each grouping as a guide to outline whatever scale I’m going for.
Finally, as the lick got faster and sounded more and more like a video game, I tried adding in more notes. This one (Fig. 3) is a three-note-per-string version through E Aeolian (E–F#–G–A–B–C–D).
So, good luck with this! I’ve also submitted for your approval a short, but very metal song to demonstrate these ideas. I’ve affectionately nicknamed it "The Metal Pole of Doom, Opus 1 in E minor.” I have fiendishly disguised the licks in my improvising, so keep an ear out. It will be kind of like the Where’s Waldo? of shred. The trauma of the original event at Disney that inspired this song probably made me play a few too many notes. Forgive me. But, to make up for it I’ve also included “The Metal Pole of Doom” without me soloing, so you can try the ideas. Do it. Do it now.
If you’re working on sweep picking for arpeggios or applying the double ups and downs to scales and feeling frustrated, try working small. These licks helped me gain control of my nemesis, the dreaded double upstroke. And soon after, I began to apply the technique to all sorts of black-hearted guitar debauchery.
And if you ever find yourself in front of the Epcot’s Universe of Energy, observe a moment of silence for my youthful misfortunes and then hum “The Metal Pole of Doom, Opus 1 in E minor.” And whatever you do, watch out for those poles!
Terry Syrek has been teaching guitar for over 25 years and is a senior faculty member of the National Guitar Workshop. He is the author of Shred Is Not Dead and continues to punish all comers with a combination of blistering speed, over-the-top distortion, and boyish charm. For more information, visit terrysyrek.com.
Two channels. Six gain circuits. Endless combinations. Enter for your chance to win Brothers AM—the analog boost, overdrive, and fuzz machine built for stacking, blending, and sonic exploration.
Chase Bliss Brothers AM
Made in collaboration with Analog Man himself, Brothers AM is a tribute to the legendary King of Tone overdrive.
It takes that coveted circuit, gives you advanced control, and tosses in a couple exciting bonuses – but it doesn’t mess with what made it so good in the first place.
A stack of sunny saturation that always manages to sound just right.
Adding to the company’s line of premium guitar strapsand accessories, Fairfield Guitar Co. has introduced a new deluxe leather strapdesigned in collaboration with Angela Petrilli.
Based in Los Angeles, Petrilli is well-known to guitar enthusiasts around the world for her online videos. She is one of the video hosts at Norman’s Rare Guitars and has her own YouTube lesson series, the Riff Rundown. She also writes, records and performs with her original band, Angela Petrilli & The Players, and has worked with Gibson, Fender, Martin Guitars, Universal Audio, Guitar Center and Fishman Transducers.
Angela Petrilli's eye-grabbing signature strap is fully hand cut, four inches wide and lightly padded, so it evenly distributes the weight of the instrument on the shoulder and offers superb comfort during extended play. The front side features black "cracked" leather with turquoise triple stitching. The "cracked" treatment on the leather highlights the beautiful natural marks and grain pattern – and it only gets better with age and use.The strap’s back side is black suede for adhesion and added comfort, with the Fairfield Guitar Co. logo and Angela's name stamped in silver foil.
Features include:
- 100% made in the USA
- Hand cut 4” wide leather strap with light padding -- offering extra comfort for longgigs and rehearsals.
- Black suede back side avoids slipping, maintains guitar’s ideal playing position.
- Length is fully adjustable from 45” - 54” and the strap has two holes on thetailpiece for added versatility.
The Fairfield Guitar Co. Angela Petrilli signature strap is available for $150 online at fairfieldguitarco.com.
Tube Amp Doctor has reissued one of the company’s mostsought-after products: the TAD 6L6WGC-STR Blackplate™ small bottle power tube is back inproduction after a 5-year absence.
The TAD 6L6WGC-STR Blackplate™ is the tube that has made TAD so popular with boutiqueamp manufacturers and vintage tone enthusiasts since 2003. A direct replacement for 6L6 and5881 tubes, it’s a remake of the small bottle GE6L6GC and has the same warm lower midrangeand silky top end as the classic GE versions of the 1950s and 1960s. Like the historic RCA5881, this tube features exclusive Blackplate anodes and a side getter.
The TAD 6L6GC-STR Blackplate™ and the TAD 6L6WGC-STR Blackplate™ feature TAD’sexclusive black-plate designs, gold grid wire, double getter construction, no-noise filaments and1.2mm thick heavy duty glass. This tube is approximately 80mm high (without pins) and canreplace 5881 and 6L6WGB tubes.
The newly reissued tubes feature the original design and raw materials from old stock, availablein limited quantities as long as the old stock raw materials are available. They’re the perfectchoice for vintage tweed and black panel amps such as the 1960 Bassman, Twin, Showman orSuper Reverb. The complex midrange and sweet heights are a class of its own. The TAD6L6WGC-STR is recommended for classic tone with warm cleans and rich, sweet mids whenpushed – and it’s great for fat jazz or blues tones.
- Delivers classic sound of the 1950s and ‘60s - excellent tone, maximum lifespan
- Tube Type: 6L6/5881
- Socket: 8 Pin(Octal)
- Identical construction, even tighter tolerances with improved production quality
The TAD 6L6GC-STR Blackplate™ and the TAD 6L6WGC-STR Blackplate™ are each priced at$48 (does not include VAT) / €46.50 (includes VAT) and are available at tubeampdoctor.com.
In challenging times, sometimes elemental music, like the late Jessie Mae Hemphill’s raucous Mississippi hill country blues, is the best salve. It reminds us of what’s truly essential––musically, culturally, and emotionally. And provides a restorative and safe place, where we can open up, listen, and experience without judgement. And smile.
I’ve been prowling the backroads, juke joints, urban canyons, and VFW halls for more than 40 years, in search of the rawest, most powerful and authentic American music. And among the many things I’ve learned is that what’s more interesting than the music itself is the people who make it.
One of the most interesting people I’ve met is the late Jessie Mae Hemphill. By the time my wife, Laurie Hoffma, and I met Jessie Mae, on a visit to her trailer in Senatobia, Mississippi, she’d had a stroke and retired from performing, but we’d been fortunate to see her years before at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage festival, where she brought a blues style that was like quiet thunder, rumbling with portent and joy and ache, and all the other stuff that makes us human, sung to her own droning, rocking accompaniment on an old Gibson ES-120T.
To say she was from a musical family is an understatement. Her grandfather, Sid, was twice recorded by Alan Lomax for the Library of Congress. While Sid played fiddle, banjo, guitar, harmonica, keyboards, and more, he was best known as the leader of a fife-and-drum band that made music that spilled directly from Africa’s main artery. Sid was Jessie Mae’s teacher, and she learned well. In fact, you can see her leading her own fife-and-drum group in Robert Mugge’s wonderful documentary Deep Blues(with the late musician and journalist Robert Palmer as on-screen narrator), where she also performs a mournful-but-hypnotic song about betrayal—solo, on guitar—in Junior Kimbrough’s juke joint.
That movie, a 1982 episode of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood (on YouTube) where she appears as part of Othar Turner’s Gravel Springs fife-and-drum band, and worldwide festival appearances are as close as Jessie Mae ever got to fame, although that was enough to make her important and influential to Bonnie Raitt, Cat Power, and others. And she made two exceptional albums during her lifetime: 1981’s She-Wolf and 1990’s Feelin’ Good. If you’re unfamiliar with North Mississippi blues, their sound will be a revelation. The style, as Jessie Mae essayed it, is a droning, hypnotic joy that bumps along like a freight train full of happily rattling box cars populated by carefree hobos. Often the songs ride on one chord, but that chord is the only one that’s needed to put the music’s joy and conviction across. Feelin’ Good, in particular, is essential Jessie Mae. Even the songs about heartbreak, like “Go Back To Your Used To Be” and “Shame on You,” have a propulsion dappled with little bends and other 6-string inflections that wrap the listener in a hypnotic web. Listening to Feelin’ Good, it’s easy to disappear in the music and to have all your troubles vanish as well—for at least as long as its 14 songs last.“She made it clear that she had a gun—a .44 with a pearl handle that took up the entire length of her handbag.”
The challenge I’ve long issued to people unfamiliar with Jessie Mae’s music is: “Listen to Feelin’ Good and then tell me if you’re not feeling happier, more cheerful, and relaxed.” It truly does, as the old cliché would have it, make your backbone slip and your troubles along with it. Especially uptempo songs like the scrappy title track and the charging “Streamline Train.” There’s also an appealing live 1984 performance of the latter on YouTube, with Jessie Mae decked out in leopard-print pants and vest, playing a tambourine wedged onto her left high-heel shoe––one of her stylish signatures.
Jessie Mae was a complex person, caught between the old-school dilemma of playing “the Devil’s music” and yearning for a spiritual life, sweet as pecan pie with extra molasses but quick to turn mean at any perceived slight. She also spent much of her later years in poverty, in a small trailer with a hole in the floor where mice and other critters got in. And she was as mistrustful of strangers as she was warm once she accepted you into her heart. But watch your step before she did. On our first visit to her home, she made it clear that she had a gun—a .44 with a pearl handle that took up the entire length of her handbag and would make Dirty Harry envious.
Happily, she took us into her heart and we took her into ours, helping as much as we could and talking often. She was inspiring, and I wrote a song about her, and even got to perform it for her in her trailer, which was just a little terrifying, since I knew she would not hold back her criticism if she didn't like it. Instead, she giggled like a kid and blushed, and asked if I’d write one more verse about the artifacts she’d gathered while touring around the world.
Jessie Mae died in 2006, at age 82, and, as happens when every great folk artist dies, we lost many songs and stories, and the wisdom of her experience. But you can still get a whiff of all that––if you listen to Feelin’ Good.