On his new album, the blues-guitar badass steps away from the crackling electric performances that have won him an international reputation for a bristling trip through acoustic-roots music.
Acoustic blues is a form of interdimensional travel. And on his new album, Naked Truth, Tinsley Ellis displays his mastery of being everywhere, all at once. I’d say that he has one foot in the red clay of the Delta and the dust of Africa, where the music arose from; another in the present, because breathing life into this style requires committed intention; and another in the future, where his own songs and selection of covers urge the genre. But that would be a weird choice of metaphor, because, like most of us, he only has two feet.
Besides, Naked Truth is more a matter of the head, brain, voice, and heart. Playing a 1937 National resonator and a 1969 Martin D-35, and stomping his foot for rhythmic emphasis, Ellis travels a well-plotted course through the music’s dimensions. The past eloquently echoes in his roughhouse performance of Delta-blues grandfather Son House’s parable, “Death Letter Blues,” one of the greatest stories of love and loss ever told, and his own “Windowpane,” which borrows the haunted, high-singing, minor-key template of Skip James. Ellis’ rowdy “Devil in the Room” gets its title from a line by his late friend, the musical eccentric Col. Bruce Hampton—who always instructed his bands to “put the Devil in the room.” And Ellis’ “Tallahassee Blues” and “Grown Ass Man” look at heartbreak from positions of sadness and strength, respectively. It’s the instrumentals, often, that lean hardest into the future, as Ellis’ fingerpicking and open tunings step away from blues tradition with a balance of pedal tones and melody that sync more easily with the American primitive movement and acoustic, textural music. That’s familiar territory for fans of Will Ackerman and trailblazer Leo Kottke, whose “The Sailor’s Grave on the Prairie” offers a gently assertive display of Ellis’ slide and fingerpicking prowess on Naked Truth.
“I didn’t want to sit down and practice. That’s just … oh God! But writing songs is another thing.”
“Playing acoustic solo blues is a totally personal statement,” Ellis observes. “Historically, we’re talking about musicians who could do the whole thing on their own. Men like R.L. Burnside had players who accompanied them, but they weren’t needed. They could make a roomful of people dance or smile by themselves.”
It’s only recently that Ellis has come to his acoustic solo reckoning, but his singing and playing have always sounded personal. For most of his 49 years onstage, he’s been a bandleader, earning a reputation as a skilled electric bluesman. The Atlanta-based guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter’s 22 previous studio recordings have reflected steady artistic growth—from his tenure in the Heartfixers, which he formed after college, and through a chain of albums bearing his name. Storm Warning, in 1994, was a hallmark, packed with originals, blues classics, and even Joe Zawinul’s punchy soul instrumental “Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.” That album’s “A Quitter Never Wins” was, at the time, the best summary of his electric vocabulary: a six-minute exhibition of rich, powerful singing with a touch of grit in his soulful vocal phrasing; a guitar tone that free-ranges from sweet and pure to scooped, attenuated-wah mids to hairy raw-edged soloing; and dynamics from mouse to lion. Ellis broadened his propensity for risk with 2013’s Get It!, an all-instrumental, retro-guitar freakout with eight original compositions that ricocheted from his early surf- and garage-rock influences to the mighty, Jeff Beck-like “Anthem for a Fallen Hero.” More recently, his trilogy of Winning Hand, Devil May Care, and Ice Cream in Hell helped jolt him to the Olympus of modern blues rock. Joe Bonamassa, a fellow Olympian, has described Ellis as “a national treasure.”
“I did it myself in my studio—just miked my foot and put a mic on the guitar and vocals and did take after take until I had what I wanted.”
Ellis recorded his first acoustic album in his home studio, save for a track cut at his Atlanta neighbor Eddie 9V’s recording room.
Ellis spent 10 years dedicatedly working his way to becoming a musician who could “do the whole thing on his own”—which requires not only exceptional playing but great storytelling to keep an audience engaged. Onstage, his between-song tales of blues history and encounters with its characters, the fizzled romances or epic friendships that became a source of lyrics, and his wonder at the discoveries he’s had during his musical life bring his audiences closer, creating a palpable bond.
“I think it has a slight tear in the cone, so it makes a slight rattle.”
“Naked Truth is an album I’ve wanted to make since I started posting acoustic videos on social media—my Sunday Morning Coffee Songs—in 2013,” says Ellis, referring to his regular series of Facebook performances. During the pandemic, when his steady diet of gigs ended, “I was off the road for almost two years. I didn’t want to lose my chops, so I started designating every morning.... Well, I didn’t want to sit down and practice. That’s just … oh God! But writing songs is another thing. I designated Sunday mornings for posting songs and watching my news shows. The other six days, I wrote songs and dragged them into different folders on my computer. One folder was called ‘Acoustic,’ and it became apparent that I had a cool, quirky mixture of blues and folk songs in there. I approached Bruce [Iglauer, head of Alligator Records] about the concept of an acoustic album, and he was open to it.”
Tinsley Ellis' Gear
Ellis is currently on a cross-country solo concert tour—one musician, two guitars, and a car.
Photo by Joseph A. Rosen
Acoustic Guitars
- 1937 National O Series resonator
- 1968 Martin D-35
Recording Microphones
- Shure SM57, Neumann TLM 103
Strings, Slide, & Picks
- Ernie Ball Earthwood (.012–.054, for the Martin)
- Ernie Ball Not Even Slinky (.012–.056, for the National, with an unwound G at the advice of Warren Haynes)
- Brass slide
- Medium-gauge picks (typically for standard tuning)
So, the next step was recording in earnest. “I did it myself in my studio—just miked my foot and put a mic on the guitar and vocals and did take after take until I had what I wanted. One song on the album, ‘Death Letter Blues,’ was from a demo I did at Eddie 9V’s studio here in Atlanta. I just couldn’t get a version that sounded as good as that demo.” Ellis depended on two microphones to achieve the rich, slightly dark guitar tones on Naked Truth: a Neumann TLM 103 and a Shure SM57. (The recordings were mixed and mastered by Atlanta-based producer Tony Terrebonne.) The rest was in his touch, which is determined, tough, and precise—exactly the way he saw Muddy Waters and other blues legends bear down on their guitars as he was coming up in the music. The various tunings on the album—standard, drop D, open G, open Dm, and DADGAD—also add variety to its sound. And then there’s his National, which has been appealingly raucous since he bought it years ago at Willies American Guitars in St. Paul, Minnesota, while on tour.
“I sat at the feet of Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters a bunch of times.”
“I think it has a slight tear in the cone, so it makes a slight rattle,” Ellis explains. “The salesperson there said, ‘Now, you’re going to want to replace it,’ and I did, but it didn't sound right. It was too precise, too bluegrass, too Jerry Douglas. So, I put it back in there. I like it, and nobody’s ever complained about it.” Consider it the organic equivalent of a low-gain distortion pedal.
As a child of the ’60s and early ’70s, Ellis grew up on the original wave of garage rock, when bands like the Standells and Nightcrawlers were setting teenage angst to three nasty chords, and more expert pickers, like Johnny Rivers and Lonnie Mack, were clearing the path for the arrival of the first generation of classic rock-guitar heroes. Thanks to an older brother, blues also seeped into his listening. That led to a pivotal experience at the Swinger’s Lounge in the Marco Polo hotel in North Miami Beach, Florida, not far from where the Ellis family lived.
Backstage, all 87 years of its life are reflected in the finish of Ellis’ National resonator.
Photo by Jim Summaria
“B.B. King and his band were playing there for a week, and whoever played there had to do a teen matinee,” Ellis recalls. “My dad loaded up the station wagon and took me and my friends to see this guy, who was supposed to be ‘the Man.’ My brother had come into my room when I was listening to Mike Bloomfield, on the Al Kooper Super Session album, and said, ‘If you like this guy, you’ve got to hear B.B. King.’ So, there we were. I sat right in the front. It just blew my mind! I could see where the real blues was coming from—where Duane Allman, Eric Clapton, Mike Bloomfield, and Johnny Winter were getting it. And then, after the show, he greeted us in the lobby and talked to us for what seemed like hours. It was probably really 45 minutes or something. He was the nicest man. And that was it for me. After that, I was always in the front row. I sat at the feet of Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters a bunch of times.”
Ellis has performed with and observed a coterie of his blues influences since the late 1960s. Here, he poses backstage with the high-octane “Master of the Telecaster,” Albert Collins, in 1980.
Photo by Lisa Seifert/Courtesy of Tinsley Ellis
The die thus cast, Ellis played through junior high, high school, and college, and got hired by an Atlanta-based touring blues band called the Alley Cats after he graduated. Later, he put together the Heartfixers, who became one of the Big Peach’s favorite musical sons, and cut their first album with folklorist and musicologist George Mitchell as producer. Their 1982 debut was made in one night, for $105. And from there, Ellis made his way into the international blues scene. Over the decades of constant touring, Ellis landed at the Alligator label, then to Capricorn Records, then to Telarc, and back to Alligator. (“I got passed around like a joint,” he observes, laughing.) He also released music independently, on his Heartfixer label, and made his return to Alligator again in 2018, with his electric blues style now fully grown. Songs like that album’s “Kiss This World,” where Ellis echoes the furious expressionism of Buddy Guy, and the epic “Saving Grace,” which recalls both Jimi Hendrix and Robin Trower in its roaring, swirling, Uni-Vibe vibe, mark him as a player for the ages.
Which brings us back to his navigation of the omniverse of acoustic blues. “One thing I’ve noticed about these shows, as opposed to my electric shows of more than 45 years, is that people are smiling. With my electric show, there was so much snarling and stuff onstage that the audience was also making serious faces. I didn’t see a lot of smiles. So, I think really what I need to do is get to where I’m playing some music that’s going to put more smiles on people’s faces, because with what’s going on in the world, people really need to lighten up. Maybe I can be somebody that will help them do that, and maybe this album is doing that—for them and for me.”
YouTube It
Tinsley Ellis and his slightly rattling National resonator faithfully conjure the fire-and-brimstone spirit of the Delta-blues great Son House in a performance of the latter’s “Death Letter Blues,” from Ellis’ new album Naked Truth.
Grinding guitars + soaring vocals = stripped-down rock bliss.
The spark for Striking Matches flared in 2007, on the first day Sarah Zimmermann and Justin Davis met in a guitar class at Belmont University. They've been playing as a duo and leading other musicians under the band's banner, with an album and a handful of EPs to their credit, ever since.
Recently, Premier Guitar's John Bohlinger met with Zimmermann and Davis in their East Nashville studio while they took a break from recording their new album. Zimmermann and Davis did some show-and-tell, pulling a lot of Gibson, Fender, and Takamine out of their collective hats, and playing some killer music, too.
[Brought to you by D'Addario XS Strings: https://www.daddario.com/XSRR]
Two Humbuckers, No Waiting
Sarah Zimmermann got into SG's when she was tracking the first Striking Matches album, Nothing but the Silence, with producer T Bone Burnett. Her No. 1 is this much-played 2014 Gibson SG. The guitar is stock except for the tuners and its truss rod cover.
Match Cover
And here's that truss-rod cover—obviously custom. The SG stays strung with D'Addario EXL110s (.010–.046).
Road Warrior
Her main acoustic is this Takamine TAN45C—a model the company no longer produces. This high-mileage 6-string features Takamine's proprietary Cool Tube preamp and Palathetic pickup, and stays strung with D'Addario EJ16s (.011—.052). She uses a Dunlop Moonshine slide and Tortex 1.14 mm picks for acoustic, and Dunlop Jazz iii plectrums for electric.
A Rare Mando
Zimmermann's Takamine mandolin appears to be a prototype that was never released. It resembles a Gibson F-style and sports a proprietary Takamine pickup.
Here's Junior
Zimmerman uses a Fender Blues Junior tricked out with a Patriot Swamp Thang speaker. Otherwise this 15-watt workhorse is all-stock.
On- And Off Board
In the heat of recording, it's often tough to keep a neat pedalboard. Zimmermann' pedals include a Boss TU-3 tuner, a Fulltone OCD, an Electro-Harmonix POG, and MXR Reverb, and her power station: Voodoo Lab's Pedal Power 2.
Davis' Dirty Dog
Justin Davis' No. 1 is his 2018 Gibson ES-335. The all-stock guitar stays strung with D'Addario EXL110s, and smudged with a patina of sweat and road dirt.
Old Friend
Davis purchased this '90s Fender Strat when he was a kid, just learning to play. It's been modded with a DiMarzio Rail in the bridge and stays strung with D'Addario EXL110s.
Up Nex
Yet another Takamine joins the Striking Matches roster. Davis' acoustic is an all stock P5NC, with X-bracing and the company's NEX body style, and it's strung with D'Addario EJ16s. For the record, he mostly plays with his fingers.
The Nest
Again, keeping pedals at home on the board during tracking is over-rated. So Davis' are loose and ready to goose his tone in a flash. They are a Boss TU-3 tuner, a TS-9 Tube Screamer with a Keely mod, a Boss DD-3 Digital Delay, and a Voodoo Lab Pedal Power 2. In addition to Zimmermann's pedals in this shot, interlopers include an Empress Effects ParaEQ, a Big Ear NYC More More More OD and boost, an EHX Holier Grail Reverb, and a JHS Ruby Red OD, designed by Butch Walker.
Teasing the Sub
For gigs, Davis uses a Fender Hot Rod Deville, but on this day in the studio he was using a newish silver-panel Fender Vibrolux Reverb.
Ox Me!
And he was running the Vibrolux Reverb through a Universal Audio OX Amp Top Box.
With off-the-charts numbers of folks playing guitar, and buying them as soon as they hit the shelves, these days have hints of yesteryear.
At first glance, the folk revival of the 1950s/early ’60s and the COVID-19 pandemic seem to have nothing in common. Last century’s folk revival was about hootenannies, folk festivals, and coffeehouse open-mikes. And obviously nothing like that is possible during the pandemic. Instead, the 2020 surge of interest in playing music is about Zoom lessons and home recording, or simply sitting on the bed in your pajamas since you can’t go anywhere. But if we look at the growth of homegrown music during these days of pandemic lockdown, and compare the resulting changes to what happened during the highly social folk revival, some similarities stand out, along with the extreme differences.
One of the more interesting similarities between the pandemic and the folk revival are that both caught the guitar industry flat-footed. With COVID-19, guitar factories both here and abroad had to shut down for several weeks this year, and it’s clear that many new guitar models are going to be in short supply.
In the early ’60s, when I was trying to buy my first Martin, that company’s factory in Nazareth, Pennsylvania, was so back-ordered there was a two-year wait for a new D-28. The list of folk-revival icons who played Martins ranged from highly commercial performers like Bob Shane (Kingston Trio) to purists like the New Lost City Ramblers. Martin’s big competitor, Guild—a newcomer barely 10 years old—was able to fill some of that gap. At the same time, Gibson responded to the increased demand with plastic bridges and other production shortcuts that even today leave die-hard Gibson fans shaking their heads in disbelief.
Thanks to modern guitar-manufacturing technology, and online guitar forums thirsty for news, there probably won’t be a repeat of the 1960s decline in quality as companies scramble to fill backorders. But there will be some long delays. Taylor, for example, has announced that in June and July alone, they received half the orders they had projected—pre-Covid—for the entire year.
Other guitar companies are reporting similar off-the-scale demand.
It’s clear the current demand for guitars is driven by people wanting to play them, but without folk festivals and hootenannies for inspiration, what’s driving their newfound interest? An abundance of free time to play, since folks are stuck at home, is the obvious answer, but new technology plays a role nobody could have imagined 60 years ago.
For many musicians, inspiration for a nightmare is imagining today’s pandemic restrictions without YouTube. In many ways, that vast catalog of recorded performances is the online equivalent of the folk festivals, hootenannies, and coffeehouse performances that powered the folk revival. And while all those Folkways Records back in the day opened countless doors to the music of other cultures and the earlier music of our own country, such explorations were not free and took considerable effort.
Aging boomers may long for the good ol’ days, but when comparing then and now when it comes to chasing musical inspiration, now wins by a huge margin. Even if you did have access to a gigantic library of recorded music during the folk revival, it’s a lot easier to swipe a screen or jiggle a mouse than it is to move the tonearm on a turntable. Whether it’s a song or a technique, endless versions and variations are just a click away, and you can cover more musical territory in an afternoon than attending a week-long folk festival. Best of all, the only cost for taking that musical odyssey is the fee for a decent internet connection. Maybe that’s why the recent explosion of growth in homegrown music has only taken months, while the folk revival simmered on the back burner for years before it lit up the airwaves in the ’60s.
COVID-19 is easily equal to the folk revival in terms of guitar playing and guitar buying. There is, however, another angle where the pandemic leaves just about every other social and musical movement in the dust. I’m talking about guitar modification. Here’s where the abundance of available time, an almost endless store of video rabbit holes to descend, and how-to resources and supplies have aligned to produce a new wave of guitar players who relate to their gear in ways they may not have imagined a year ago.
Of course, there have always been tinkerers, and the DIY movement has been gathering steam for years now, but the coronavirus has inspired a much higher percentage of guitar players moving beyond simply changing their strings. This certainly leads guitar players to a greater understanding of their instrument, but it also raises the bar for guitar manufacturers. The downside is that you might have to wait quite a while to get that guitar you’ve chosen after hours of online research.