Get ready for a genre-bending lesson that aims to delight, confound, and inspire.
Chops: Advanced Theory: Advanced Lesson Overview: • Celebrate and analyze the pioneers and expounders of weird guitar. • Highlight elements that characterize weird guitar and demonstrate how to use these uncommon features to create your own weird sounds and songs. • Discuss how intuition, industry, and music theory can work together to create weird music that is logical, clever, vital, and sustainable. Click here to download a printable PDF of this lesson's notation. |
Weird guitar isn't a genre, but there are a few odd techniques, characteristics, and approaches that allow one to gather a big tent of diverse musicians such as Derek Bailey, Jimi Hendrix, Frank Zappa, James Blood Ulmer, Janet Feder, Dillinger Escape Plan, and many others. And while “weird" means different things to different people, in this lesson we'll strive to cover enough ground that, at some point, everyone reading this will say, “That's weird."
What Is “Weird" Guitar?
Because “weird" means different things to different people, I am determined to provide you with a myriad of references. I will also highlight commonalities between seemingly disparate musicians in an effort to bring cohesion to the classification. I myself find it difficult to listen to a whole album of weird music, although I rarely listen to “normal" guitar albums all the way through either. Still, musical options allow one to appreciate life to the fullest and weird guitar provides alternatives you won't hear elsewhere.
Unfortunately, this lesson will exclude more than it includes. This is due to the massive amount of weird guitar music that has been produced in the last 60 years, not to mention what is uploaded to the internet daily. For the record, I have bypassed certain guitarists when I have not studied their playing in depth, appreciating their music purely on a listening level, such as Joseph Spence and Robbie Basho. Nor am I including guitarists whose playing is problematic to notate, such as Sonny Sharrock or Pete Cosey. Also, arbitrarily, in order to limit my references, I have featured only American and English guitar players and avoided the world of weird classical guitar.
Dissonance as a Hallmark
Though I've done my best to structure this lesson from pioneers to contemporaries, I am presenting these weird etudes grouped by concept. This process has led me first to the use of dissonance.
Many people think of dissonance as something that sounds bad or grating, but in fact dissonance is a sound that is unstable or unresolved. One of the best ways to demonstrate this is to play Ex. 1, a G chord to a D7 chord but don't go back to the G, even though that's what the sound of the D7 longs to do. One of the reasons for this is the fact that the D7 has a dissonant tritone in it, which creates instability compared to the G.
Contrary to this usual function of “rest, tension, release" as heard in G–D7–G, weird guitarists have a habit of composing music that is more “tension, tension, release, tension." One of the ways to do this is to fill your music with an abundance of tritones, seconds, and sevenths, all of which are dissonant.
Ex. 2 does just this. It was inspired by the guitar duet “Dali's Car" from Captain Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica—arguably the weirdest record ever made—and performed by Jeff Cotton aka Antennae Jimmy Semens and Bill Harkleroad aka Zoot Horn Rollo. The example features myriad unresolved tritones, as well as major and minor seconds. There are several rhythmic challenges, including a variety of uncommon rhythms: the changing of time signatures seven times in the space of ten measures. In addition to Beefheart, I also added syncopated slides with volume swells (measures 9-10) heard on the Hampton Grease Band's Music to Eat album (featuring the brilliant guitarists Glenn Phillips and Harold Kelling), and the final two measures were inspired by Pat Metheny's “Part 2" from his Zero Tolerance for Silence recording, which is an outrageously peculiar and highly recommended album.
Click here for Ex. 2
Let's stick with this concept of dissonance for a few more examples, but in the following one we'll be more logical, using riffs and melodies created strictly within a whole-tone scale. Ex. 3 was inspired by King Crimson's “Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Part 2," although there also traces of the Police's “Mother," and even a bit of Primus' “Jerry Was a Racecar Driver."
Click here for Ex. 3
Once again, the tritone takes center stage in both the riff and melody, though a cohesiveness stems from the fact that all the notes, as dissonant as they sound, come from the whole-tone scale (Ex. 4). For a more complete view of the whole-tone scale, check out my “Digging Deeper: A Whole-Tone Primer" lesson.
Ex. 5 is a mosaic of the tritone intro, arranged for one guitar, with a backwards guitar solo. For the solo, I recorded the lead as seen in Ex. 6, then I reversed the file in Logic with the click of a button. A similar effect can be achieved in real-time with various pedals, but for the sake of ease, I used the computer shortcut. Although he's admired throughout the mainstream, you don't have to dig too deep to find weird Jimi Hendrix guitar music.
Click here for Ex. 5
Click here for Ex. 6
Ex. 7 is one last, dissonance-centered etude, performed in the so-called math-metal or mathcore style of bands such as Dazzling Killmen, Coalesce, and Orthrelm. This is an homage to the Dillinger Escape Plan and their intrepid leader, guitarist Ben Weinman. It features dissonant minor and major seconds, a riff that requires precise string-skipping ability, and additional dissonances that can be discerned when focusing on the guitar and bass harmonies.
Click here for Ex. 7
Ostentatious Complex Rhythms
As hinted at in the previous examples, another feature of weird guitarists is the use of complex rhythms. And while one could argue that this pomposity for convolution is contrived and lacks groove, I would suggest that…well, yes, sometimes. However, these seemingly unnatural rhythms are the most natural of all, as humans don't talk in 4/4 time, walk with consistently even tempos, or breathe to a steady beat. So why consistently force music into such constraints?
Accordingly, let's go all in with a Frank Zappa-inspired etude that pushes rhythmic intricacy to the extreme! Ex. 8 borrows many of the rhythmic ideas Zappa used in his iconic “The Black Page," which, although originally composed for drum kit and melodic percussion, has been performed by Zappa alumni Steve Vai and Mike Keneally, as well as by Zappa's son Dweezil.
To make this etude slightly more comprehensible, I have written it entirely in the key of C, with minimal position shifts. I've also added a step filter effect to my guitar make the tone a bit more Zappa-esque. For more puzzling Zappa rhythms, I recommend you peruse The Frank Zappa Guitar Book, transcribed by Steve Vai.
Click here for Ex. 8
Ex. 9 is my meager attempt to capture the rhythmic irregularity of James Blood Ulmer, though his brand of weirdness extends far beyond rhythm. Ulmer has a distinctive voice developed from years of playing in soul and jazz ensembles, performing and recording with free jazz pioneer Ornette Coleman, constructing his “Unwritten Theory of Guitar Harmolodics," and dreaming up (literally) tunings like A–A–A–E–A–E and E–E–B–E–B–E. Ex. 9 (performed in standard tuning) should be understood as focusing solely on Ulmer's rhythmic style, which was very much inspired by Ornette Coleman's melodic lines but in a decidedly non-idiomatic style.
Pay attention to the syncopations, the lack of emphasis of the downbeat, the mixed meters, and the unexpectedly fast sixteenth-note and quintuplet phrases. You'll also notice the unusual drums and the almost unison bass line. This is important not only for Ulmer but for most weird guitarists–they usually have weird band members. Weird guitar is good but a weird ensemble is great!
Click here for Ex. 9
When Is a Guitar Not a Guitar?
Many weird guitarists have gone out of their way to make their guitars sound unlike guitars. Building on of the techniques and vocabulary that composer John Cage used with his prepared piano, prepared guitar pioneers Bjorn Fongaard, Keith Rowe, and Fred Frith created an entirely new approach to the instrument. They did so by attaching various objects directly onto, under, and in between the strings. Anything that will modify the sound of the guitar is fair game, paperclips, rubber bands, alligator clips, cardboard, pencils, the kitchen sink (use the faucet as a slide!), you name it.
My favorite prepared guitarist is Janet Feder, who in recent years has brought prepared guitar to a wider audience by mixing prepared guitar machinations with traditional classical techniques and avant-songwriting skills. One preparation Feder uses to angelic effect is the placing of split rings onto various strings, which in turn produce a bell-like chime, emphasizing the harmonic overtones at the point of placement. Ex. 10 demonstrates this technique with an abstract, Feder-esque etude in which I have placed split rings on the 1st (E), 3rd (G), and 5th (A) strings. The notation and tab represent only the notes I played, not the notes you hear. For more on Janet Feder check out Premier Guitar's 2016 profile piece.
Click here for Ex. 10
Ex. 11 and Ex. 12 feature another prepared technique by shoving a pencil under the strings, effectively turning the guitar into a poor man's koto. While many guitarists have done this, “Empitsu No Uta" by Richard Leo Johnson was the initial inspiration for this etude. Before we get to the etude, this example demonstrates, in succession, three systems the pencil preparation generates:
1) Placed a regular No. 2 pencil under the strings at the 20th fret (you can place it anywhere; I chose my highest fret). This makes it so that, picking over the soundhole you can only play the notes heard at the 20th fret C–F–Bb–Eb–G–C. Although not perfectly in tune yet they still sound wonderful.
2) This might seem limiting at first until you realize these notes create a displaced C minor pentatonic scale.
3) If you pick over the soundhole and push down on the string on the fretboard side at the 17th fret, you can bend the notes up both a quarter- and a half-step, giving you more notes and articulations to play with. (I should mention that there are playable notes on the other side of the pencil, but you'll have to work that side out yourself.)
Click here for Ex. 11
That's the method and system, now we're obliged to create music, which I've done in Ex. 12.
Click here for Ex. 12
One last pseudo-preparation to mention is self-proclaimed “Freak Guitarist" Mattias IA Eklundh's use of a comb to play notes. I say “pseudo" because the only modification he's made is the replacement of the pick in the right-hand with a comb. Nevertheless, Eklundh gets a variety of maniacal sounds from this seemingly unhinged idea. Check out his brilliant post-shred song “Musth" to hear an artful use of this technique.
For more on the history of prepared guitar, check out Michael Ross excellent article “Avant Guitar 101: Alternate Attacks."
Postmodern Guitar
The concept of Postmodernism often equates, for better or worse, to “anything goes" or “everything is equal." I don't know that I believe this, yet I do know that weird guitarists appear to value an all-inclusive philosophy. To that point, a few bands in the late 1980s and early 1990s embraced the idea that all musical styles were so equal that not only could you mix genres in one set you could mix genres in one song. Examples of these early mashups include Scatterbrain's “Don't Call Me Dude" and Mr. Bungle's first, self-titled album. But, in my opinion, no one has ever done it better than John Zorn's Naked City, featuring weird guitarists Bill Frisell and Fred Frith (on bass). What I admire about Naked City is that, rather than creating a pastiche, they managed to blend disparate elements so artfully as to be alchemical, creating completely new music.
Ex. 13 is a Naked City etude that, while it lasts for only 31 seconds, is longer than several Naked City originals! Be prepared to switch styles, grooves, and keys in quick succession. I've kept the tempo the same throughout, double-time and half-time notwithstanding.
Click here for Ex. 13
Graphic Notation
The depiction of musical directions/prompts using symbols outside the realm of traditional music notation, such as scribbles, text with various font sizes, and colors isn't limited to the world of weird guitar. Still, enough guitarists use the technique to reason for its inclusion in this lesson. I also have a delightfully fun video example to share, which demonstrates that, while most weird guitarists are serious about their art, they can maintain a sense of humor too.
Which brings us to a video featuring Nick Didkovsky (who performs solo and with various weird ensembles, most notably Dr. Nerve).
In the video you'll see Didkovsky composing a graphic notation score, followed by a recording session, ending with the final product “Could Have Been an Ankles Tableau," one of his contributions to the $100 Guitar Project, a various artists recording that features an abundance of weird (and a few “normal") guitarists. Enjoy.
Derek Bailey
It was difficult to figure out where and how to put Derek Bailey into this lesson as he epitomizes weird guitar, using every anomalous technique you can image. Therefore, I saved him for last and created his own category.
While Bailey is perhaps best known for his idiosyncratic, non-idiomatic free improvisation style featuring unpredictable rhythms, note clusters, large intervallic leaps, harmonics, scraping the string with the pick, plucking below the bridge of archtop guitars, and more, he has also recorded his take on jazz standards. This is how I have represented him in Ex. 14. As if Derek Bailey was playing the classic “Avalon."
Click here for Ex. 14
This is a perfect vehicle for penetrating Bailey's style, as “Avalon" is a relatively straightforward song, yet this etude was composed. Yes, I had to compose what sounds like an improvisation to get it right–to make it seem byzantine. There are many features to analyze here but you should listen to the audio a few times first. Note that I included the original chords in this chart, though I am not playing them most of the time but rather implying them. This is important because I am playing the melody and inferring the changes. None of this is random.
The opening chord is classic Bailey, including three minor seconds and two minor sevenths. This a quintessential chord cluster. The piece ends with a similar cluster, performed by moving the previous shape over one string. After the opening, as anomalous as it sounds, the etude stays true to the original melody, though it's been enhanced and obfuscated by blending it into abnormal chords, playing it in harmonics, displacing melody notes down or up an octave, and adding a few “outside" notes (the way any jazz musician might, though Bailey's are more outside than most).
Postscript: Who Did We Skip?
Due to the dilemma of who to leave out, this was easily the most challenging article I have ever written for any publication. Because, although this lesson is lengthy, I cut out ten times more! So, who did I cut and why? Fortunately, you can find that extensive list, along with links, recommendations, and additional lessons at weirdguitarlessons.com.
Before I sign off, I want to acknowledge the help of Henry Kaiser, Michael Ross, David Starobin, Joe Gore, Steve Feigenbaum, Jack Vees, Andre Cholmondeley, and Richard Leo Johnson for points of reference and insight. And finally, my sincere gratitude to Premier Guitar, and Jason Shadrick specifically, for publishing this lengthy, weird guitar lesson, which is so near and dear to my heart. I am beyond grateful.
A pedal stomping avant-rocker talks about discovering new modes and sounds, the genre-jumping joys of improvisation, and her journey from classical and roots music to the outlands.
Ava Mendoza creates edgy, challenging music. She plays guitar and stompboxes and, no, she doesn’t use pedals to mask inferior technique or shoddy ideas. Her command of the instrument is prodigious, her tonal palette is expansive, she has an intuitive improvisatory awareness, and her lunchbox is chockfull of sonic goodies. Not staid or vanilla, her playing is a profound testament to the state of contemporary guitar.
Mendoza has deep roots, too, and that includes years of classical training, a rich knowledge of old-school blues and traditional fingerstyle, a profound awareness of no-wave punk and sonic weirdness, and significant exposure to the free jazz masters. She also has the ears and chops to assimilate her disparate influences and execute difficult music.
Not an easy feat.
But also not unnoticed. Mendoza is best judged by the company she keeps. She has worked with bassist Jamaaladeen Tacuma (Ornette Coleman, James Blood Ulmer), Fred Frith, the Geraldine Fibbers’ frontwoman Carla Bozulich, genre-crossing experimentalists Tune-Yards, and many others. And her duets with Wilco’s Nels Cline are astounding.
Mendoza grew up in Orange County, California, but spent high school boarding at the Interlochen Arts Academy in Michigan. “I escaped when I was 15,” she says about leaving Southern California. “Interlochen has academics, but it is really arts focused. It has theater, dance, music, and writing.” She studied classical guitar, but her studies were at odds with the rock, punk, no wave, far out, and experimental music she was listening to. She studied folk blues and traditional Americana as well, which was an easy transition for an acoustic fingerstylist. But soon she was abusing solidbody electrics. “I played in rock bands—punk bands that had free sections and were into improvising,” she says. “I think that was part of how I learned to play on electric. Plus, I was always still studying Ornette Coleman and Albert Ayler—trying to figure out how they constructed their lines.”
After high school, Mendoza studied at Mills College and settled in Oakland, and was a fixture on the local music scene. But two years ago she took the plunge and moved east to Brooklyn—not that New York is easier or conducive to lugging a lot of equipment. “New York is forcing me to strip down my gear because I don’t have a car here,” she says. “Every pedal counts.”
Mendoza is busy. She is an active player on the New York avant-rock scene. Her band Unnatural Ways is working, touring, and a new album on John Zorn’s Tzadik label is due this spring. Half an album of solo material is due soon as well, bearing the title Ivory Tower. “It is a split with Sir Richard Bishop,” she says. “He is on the other half.”
Premier Guitar spoke with Mendoza about her influences, her unusual journey from classical guitar to American fingerstyle to free electric madness, how she discovers new modes and sounds, and the different ways she abuses Whammy pedals and her Line 6 green box.
When did you make the transition from classical guitar to what you do now?
I had played classical guitar from when I was a little kid, but by the time I was 12 or 13 I was getting more into rock. A couple of years later I was into punk rock and these no wave bands that I like. I wanted to not play classical music more and more. I kept exploring interesting weird rock bands. There were a couple of bands from Southern California—like the Red Aunts and the Geraldine Fibbers—that I was really into. And from there I made the left turn to more avant-garde jazz.
Who were some of the people you were listening to?
Sonny Sharrock. He was a big early one. Albert Ayler. Ornette Coleman. [Saxophonist] Peter Brötzmann. I played classical music for so long, all of a sudden I was like, “Oh, there is this whole expressive crazy world of music.” I got really into that.
Were you also listening to American primitive and the old-school blues guys?
I love lots of that music. Robert Johnson and Reverend Gary Davis and Skip James. I started getting into it because I loved it, and because I knew how to play fingerstyle. I didn’t know how to play with a pick. Almost all of those players played fingerstyle. I wanted to play electric and write my own music, but I guess their approach made sense to me because they were playing with their fingers.
Did you find that the technique transferred easily from classical to blues?
Yeah, for the most part. I spent a long time trying to figure out people’s tunings, but once I was there, a lot of those techniques are kind of the same. Maybe there is more walking bass stuff—and the feel is different, of course—but a lot of the actual technique is similar.
Did you experiment with thumbpicks or fingerpicks?
I’ve never been able to use those. I never worked on it long enough and they always got caught up in the strings. When I was in my early 20s, I started playing with a flatpick and practiced using that with hybrid picking. Now, usually I use a flatpick with my middle and ring fingers.
You go back and forth between fingerpicking and hybrid picking?
Yes. When I play with bands, for the most part it is hybrid, but when I play solo I fingerpick more. The one weird thing that I still do, a holdover from classical guitar, is put fake nails on my middle and ring fingers—drugstore-bought fake nails that you glue on with nail glue. I put those on because real nails are too thin. Fake nails are thicker and sound more like a flatpick. I can get the same tone with my fingers and the pick.
Did you have any important teachers or mentors that pushed you in a certain direction?
I went to Mills College, and Fred Frith was there. I took his improv classes and then later I ended up playing with him in his groups.
What did you learn from him?
Well, it wasn’t guitar stuff—he doesn’t want to teach guitar lessons—but he would talk about improvisation a lot. And then learning his music. He has a record called Gravity from 1980—a kind of prog album—and I played in his re-creation of that. It was a good “learning hard music” exercise for me, absorbing and arranging that music.
Having digested so many disparate styles, do you see them as distinct entities or are they related in some way for you?
I definitely view them as distinct styles, but the way that I’ve used them in my own playing is more taking from their techniques. I’ve been influenced by many types of music, but I am not thinking, “Here I am playing in this traditional context. Here I am playing in this sonic rock context.” I’m just trying to play music in whatever situation I’m in.
Albert Ayler and Ornette Coleman are both great examples of that as well. Their playing is so out there and yet rooted in folk music and melodies.
Yes, definitely for them. I think punk rock and no wave stuff from the ’70s and ’80s is that way, also. I don’t really see them as working against each other. The reason I got into all of those musics is that I wanted to hear stuff that was a little bit more raw and direct than things you could find on the radio—a little less slick sounding. All those fulfilled that and weren’t as sculpted as a lot of the modern music I heard.
Studying with avant-garde guitar master Fred Frith informed Mendoza’s approach to challenging music, but her improvisations draw on all the elements of her rich background, including classical and roots music. Photo by Peter Gannushkin
Many people associate free playing exclusively with jazz, but classical music has a strong experimental tradition as well. Do you draw inspiration from that, too?
There are a lot of modern classical compositions that I love—Karlheinz Stockhausen and Conlon Nancarrow are people that I really like. But I think, just coming from rock music, there is a lot of improvising that doesn’t make it into modern blues and soul-rock music, but in the tradition there sure is.
Who are some examples?
Coming from blues and R&B music, there was always tons of improvising—Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy, Jimi Hendrix—they are all people who were like that. Getting more into punk rock, the Minutemen were into doing long jammed out things at their shows. As were the Contortions with James Chance.
In your solos—to my ears at least—you seem to maintain a strong sense of tonality even when the music isn’t tonal. What is your harmonic and melodic approach?
A lot of times I’ll pick a mode—some weird mode that I think sounds interesting—and I’ll use that. I might use that for the whole solo or midway through I’ll switch modes. Usually I start from something that is modal and then maybe I go atonal or get into tonal sounding stuff as it goes along, but I’m usually starting from a mode.
Ava Mendoza’s Gear
Guitars
Fender Jaguar with dual humbuckers (stock Fender at the bridge and a Seymour Duncan Seth Lover in the neck position)
Schechter Banshee with Floyd Rose and Sustainiac pickup/driver
Gibson ES-150 with one P-90 in the neck position
Amps
Fender Twin Reverb
Effects
Fulltone FB-3 Fat-Boost overdrive
Pro Co RAT distortion (1993)
Line 6 DL4 Delay Modeler
Boss DD-7 Digital Delay
DigiTech Whammy WH-1
Behringer UV300 Classic Vibrato
Strings and Picks
D’Addario EXL 116 Medium Top/Heavy Bottom (.011–.052)
Dunlop .73 mm
Do you mean that you sound out because of context? If you were to take away the rest of the band would your solo sound more conservative?
No, I don’t mean that, actually. I try to pick a mode that has an interesting outside flavor with what’s going on.
What modes do you use?
I’ve been working a lot out of the Nicolas Slonimsky book, Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns, which is a modes book. Many people have used it—Coltrane used it a lot. They are not traditional Western modes and I try to work them into solos and songs that I’m writing. When I say modes, I don’t mean the traditional Dorian, Phrygian, Ionian, and so on, necessarily, but stuff out of that book. Or I just make them up.
Do you work on chord theory and harmony?
Not really. When I have time to work on music I just try to write something of my own. It’s not really rooted in traditional theory, rather I’m trying to come up with something I want to play in front of human beings. However, because I have long improvised sections in the stuff that I do, I work on technique, stamina, and picking chops—tremolo picking chops—and different hybrid picking techniques.
Anything specific?
I work on different picking patterns with the flatpick and middle and ring fingers to make sure those are all playing evenly together. That is the hardest part of hybrid picking for me—to get an even tone.
How do you approach free improvisation? Do you work with predetermined structures or look for signposts along the way? How do you avoid making a mess?
Well, sometimes I do [laughs].
And sometimes that’s a good thing!
I listen and react. It is so different based on who I’m playing with. I try to use everything I know about music and everything I’ve trained my ears to hear. I try to react either melodically or with sounds to whatever is going on around me.
So both the songs and the other musicians inspire or dictate how you are going to play?
Yes. Definitely. But I don’t think about it like, “Oh, I better play this way because I am playing with such and such a person.”
How about your band, Unnatural Ways? You call it a rock band, but your songs are not the traditional verse/chorus type of song structure.
It’s definitely still eccentric rock. I listen to a lot of metal and a lot of music that has a more open approach to songwriting. It’s not verse/chorus/verse—it’s more proggy. The songs are more written out and there are fewer sections where it is free improv.
Pedals often dictate the way you play. Do you start with a sound in your head and try to duplicate it with a pedal, or is it the opposite?
I buy them because I’m thinking, “I want to get this sound.” But when I start using them—depending on what they are—I have to wait for them to start talking to me. I try to dial in the sound I thought I could get, but then it turns out to do something really different. With the Whammy pedal, for instance, most people use it for octave stuff or harmonizing a line, but I started to use it to get these big interval leaps. I use it in ways to get sounds that aren’t really what it was meant for. For example, I have it in the octave setting and set it midway so it is at a random interval. I play, hit it on and off, and get these big interval leaps in what I am playing. I can get big, wider range interval leaps than I can with my hands. They sound like an ’80s synthesizer or something.
YouTube It
Ava Mendoza’s masterful hybrid picking technique and control of effects are in conflagrant display in this performance with her rock band Unnatural Ways, featuring bassist Tim Dahl and drummer Sam Ospovat. At about 4:27—perhaps inspired by Nicolas Slonimsky’s Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns—she tears into some exotic runs and wraps up with reversed washes of sound.
Does it make cool, glitchy noises, too?
Yes—especially the original Whammy pedal that’s in a little smaller case than the recent ones. That model has this warble to it, almost an organ sound. You get one note that sounds like normal guitar and then you get one note that has this “whoo whoo whoo” vibrato sound.
You have a looper pedal, too. Do you use loops in a band setting or only when playing solo?
I use loops in almost every setting. With a band, I mostly use it in a solo, where the loop will be part of the solo. I get an asymmetrical loop going, play over it, and harmonize with myself. Usually it is at the end of a solo where things are getting epic and I am wrapping it up. But I use it to add another layer of harmony—to play these kind of out-of-time harmony lines with myself. I’ll pitch it up an octave and stuff like that. For a while, when I’d play solo I did use it for looping a bass line. But I don’t really hear that now. I much prefer to play with a bass player.
And you use the Line 6 DL4?
Yeah. It does reverse and it does the pitch up an octave and the pitch down an octave. I’ve gotten really adapted to it—it’s part of the instrument for me.
What else do you do with pedals?
One thing pedal-wise is that I’ve always played with a volume pedal, but I’m actually trying to get away from that. I’ve found that if I can move around more, I can adjust my mix onstage. For example, if I’m playing in a rock club, I can adjust my mix because I move around to where it sounds good to me. I also think I play better when I’m not working a volume pedal and always wondering “is this part too quiet or too loud?” I just forget about that and deal with it in my actual playing.
You teach guitar lessons as well. How does that inform or help your playing?
Teaching has helped me realize what I think is a healthy balance for kids who are learning music. That includes jamming, playing with people, understanding their own style, learning to read music, and learning some theory at the same time. A lot of times music education is slanted one way or the other—usually it is more reading things off a page or learning other people’s styles, but not a lot of developing your own. Seeing kids flourish has made me think about the balance that is healthy for everybody musically.
It’s hard to express it in proportions. The way I grew up, playing classical music, I didn’t think about what sounded like me until pretty late in the game. I think a lot of people who come from classical music are that way. Ideally, I guess it would be more of an even split.
Exploring the Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns
Ava Mendoza uses Nicolas Slonimsky’s book, Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns, as a source for new modes and compositional ideas. Slonimsky was a 20th-century classical composer. Born in Russia, he fled to the West following the Bolshevik Revolution and spent most of his life in the United States. In addition to composing, Slonimsky was a prolific writer and essayist, and a champion of contemporary music. He had close associations with Edgard Varèse, Charles Ives, and Frank Zappa.
Although largely ignored when published in 1947, Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns became popular when word got out that John Coltrane used it to generate ideas. Many other musicians, including Jaco Pastorius and Zappa, were known to study from it as well.
At its heart, Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns is a collection of manufactured scales that work around symmetrical patterns of equal intervallic distances, interpolations, pentatonics, 12-tone rows, and other systems. For example, a Slonimsky scale might be based on skips of alternating half-steps and tritones, dividing an octave into four equal parts. The patterns break from traditional harmonic structures and provide fodder for exploration in a post-harmonic, atonal environment. How dissonant or atonal one of Slonimsky’s manufactured modes might sound depends on context and how you apply it.
Slonimsky’s scales and patterns are advanced musical theory and provide a break from the doldrums of tonality. Proceed with caution: If you’re happy in a diatonic world, Slonimsky’s offerings might not be for you. To learn more about Slonimsky, listen to him discuss his relationship with Zappa in this video.
Five of the freakiest, most out-there experimental guitar pioneers talk about wielding bizarre implements— everything from chopsticks to electric fans—in a tireless quest to discover new modes of 6-string expression.
As artists like Jeff Beck, Jimmy Bryant, Ali Farka Touré, and Adrian Belew have proven time and again over the past few decades, the electric guitar is capable of an amazing array of tones with just a pick, fingers, a few pedals, and an amplifier. Still, some artists feel this is not enough. In fact, in the 1960s an entire scene of avant-garde music was spawned by off-the-wall British guitarists Keith Rowe and Fred Frith, both of whom approached the instrument with what has come to be referred to as “extended techniques.” In essence, this translates into using unorthodox implements and processing to coax strange, unheard-of new sounds from the instrument. Rowe gained fame as a founder of the free-improvisation AMM, while Frith first gained notoriety for his work with Henry Cow.
Much of the music created by players who follow the avant-garde-ist philosophy may sound like noise at first—and it is. But the best of this music is organized around the core principles of every other style: dynamics, tension and release, and repeated themes. However, practitioners of extended techniques focus on pure sound rather than notes to create an emotional impact with their music.
Perhaps the best way to approach players like Rowe, Frith, and their acolytes is to think in terms of visual art: “Regular” guitar playing is analogous to a visual artist painting a lifelike, realist portrait of a person or a vase of flowers, while extended-technique guitar playing is closer to abstract and conceptual art—a world where anything goes. For instance, Rowe has been known to route the electronic chatter from his Bluetooth mouse through his guitar pickup.
Both Frith and Rowe deserve an entire article about their vast and captivating catalog of aural and performance arts, but here, we’ll focus on some of the unique tools and techniques used by them and fellow individualists Hans Tammen, Roger Kleier, and Stian Westerhus.
Keith Rowe uses a battery-powered fan and steel wool to agitate a spring placed on the
pickup of a miniature guitar at the AMPLIFY 2008 Festival in Tokyo. Photo by Yuko Zama
Frontiersmen Of Freakonia
Rowe was one of the earliest practitioners of extended techniques, and his band AMM played alongside the adventurous, Syd Barrett-captained version of Pink Floyd at the height of the psychedelic London scene. (Check out early footage of Barrett and the Floyd playing “Interstellar Overdrive” to see how Rowe’s techniques may have slipped into the mainstream.) His ventures into the bizarre were a matter of emulating techniques he applied to his visual artwork.
“I encountered so many problems with the approach I had to playing standard guitar,” says Rowe. “In my jazz-guitar world, I could not satisfactorily locate the idea of something like ‘ambiguity’—which, in the visual arts, was seen as important.” He found that laying the instrument flat on a table allowed him to apply a more painterly approach, likening it to Jackson Pollock placing the canvas on the floor. Further, in transmitting sounds from the airwaves through a radio’s headphone placed over the pickup, Rowe found parallels with the collage-like art of Robert Rauschenberg.
Rowe presses steel wool onto the strings of a Shadow Reinaldo Rivero Finger Trainer that’s outfi tted
with a pickup. Electronics in Rowe’s rig include a Z.Vex Fuzz Factory, a Boss RC-2 Loop Station,
an MXR 6-Band EQ, and a Boss PS-3 Pitch Shifter/Delay. Photo by Yuko Zama
For American composer Roger Kleier (who has collaborated with Frith, Elliott Sharp, and Marc Ribot, among others), an encounter with a John Cage piece for prepared piano—meaning miscellaneous items such as paper and clothespins were placed on the strings—inspired attacking the guitar with unusual implements.
“I was struck by how Cage could take one instrument and turn it into a new sound universe,” says Kleier. Frith’s first solo album, 1974’s Guitar Solos, revealed to Kleier how he too could enter this world. “He sounded like an army of guitarists making these unusual sounds,” he says. “On the back of the record cover, he is pictured playing guitar with this piece of glass, and there are electrician’s clips on the strings. I realized I could do prepared guitar, as opposed to prepared piano. I ran down to the hardware store and started buying stuff.”
Frith, too, was inspired by Cage, among others, to explore the full range of sounds available from an electric guitar. “In 1970, I had a friend build me an aluminum harness holding a pickup, which could be bolted onto the nut,” explains Frith. “With this pickup suspended above the first fret, I had a completely new instrument: the conventional electric guitar, along with an asymmetrical mirror image, with logarithmic scales running the ‘wrong’ way.” Frith notated the scales and learned to incorporate this new set of notes using tapping techniques—well before Eddie Van Halen. Still, he soon abandoned that line of research in favor of a more sound-based (as opposed to note-based) approach. “At some point in the early ’70s, I saw [Flying Lizards guitarist] David Toop using alligator clips on his guitar, and that led me to start ‘preparing’ the instrument in various ways, using clips and anything else that seemed useful and sounded interesting,” says Frith.
Roger Kleier’s kit of implements includes alligator clips (lower left), slides, springs, mini gongs,
paintbrushes, a chopstick, a pencil, a reed, a screwdriver, and an EBow. Photo by Annie Gosfield
German guitarist Hans Tammen also plays the instrument on a table, like Rowe. His progression from the worlds of British rock to classical guitar, jazz, and then into the world of extended techniques was a result of being more interested in creating lengthy, improvised introductions to tunes than in the tunes themselves. “I started using other areas of the electric-guitar body besides the fretboard to elicit sounds,” he explains. “The more subtle and varied that became, the more I started working with materials and gadgets on the strings. This is quite natural for a guitarist—we are using picks and bottlenecks already, and as soon as you get beyond that, the options become endless.”
For Norway’s Stian Westerhus, it’s not necessarily about “guitar,” but about feeling the urge for a broader palette for his instrument. “I wasn’t that into playing guitar, but more into creating the music I was hearing in my head,” he says. “In my early teens, I would record stuff from the radio onto cassettes, cutting and splicing the tape to create weird collages of sound and music.” Westerhus revels in the randomness that alternate modes can introduce. “The stuff I hear back when I take risks pushes me in directions I can’t calculate, but can only try to control—extended techniques came out of that.”
’Gator Aid
You might think the experimental nature of these artists’ music would lead them toward complex custom instruments. However, they mostly use the same guitars you would see in your local club band. Kleier plays a Les Paul, a Telecaster, and a Stratocaster. Frith often wields a 1959 Gibson ES-345. Westerhus likes a baritone Danelectro or a Gibson ES-335 with a Bigsby. And Tammen, having been through various custom contraptions now says, “I’m just happy with my $300 Steinberger Spirit.”
When it comes to effects though, you are as likely to find these guys at Home Depot as Guitar Center. Picks, slides, and pedals aside, many of the implements for extended techniques come from hardware and kitchen supply stores, flea markets, and garage sales.
One tool employed almost universally is the aforementioned alligator or electrician’s clip, which can be placed anywhere along the length of a guitar string to great effect. In school, Kleier found he liked ring modulators and metallic-sounding synth sounds, but because he was a destitute student, he had no access to those electronic luxuries— and he was better off for it. “I found that an electrician’s clip placed on the strings gave me very unusual overtones. And when you add distortion, you can really get the ring-modulator sound. [Placing the clips] closer to the bridge, you get more of the fundamental notes—Gamelan-like . . . further back toward the nut, you get more upper [harmonic] partials.”
Tammen prefers to clip them between the bridge and neck pickups to draw out very low, gong-like sounds. “These are great for creating rhythms by banging the strings with different kinds of mallets,” he says. “I have a collection of five mallets, going from a hard wooden one to one with a fluffy top. Having the correct mallet at hand makes a big difference.”
In his own experimentation, this author found that though there is no “right” place along the neck to put the clips, they tend to fall onto the neighboring strings when placed on unwound strings—but this, too, can create interesting sounds. Attaching clips on the low E, A, and D strings, and between the pickups of a two-pickup instrument also changed the prevailing overtones when switching between pickups. “It takes some experimentation with them,” says Westerhus, “but there is a huge palette of uneven harmonics that vary, depending on where the clips are placed, and where and how you pluck the string.”
When playing his Squier Tele onstage, Kleier keeps his implements
closeby on a music stand. Photo by Dominique Coupin
Pickup Sticks
Another common extended technique is to thread some sort of stick under or through your guitar’s strings. Frith sometimes uses doweling rods. Kleier often employs chopsticks. Whatever you use, the main thing is that you cover all six strings, which enables you to create different overtones than you get with alligator clips—and this approach is perfect for generating metallic percussion sounds. “A lot of this stuff [derives from] looking for alternate sources of rhythm,” Kleier explains.
This author found terrific sonic modifiers—a set of meat skewers—at that hotbed of musical equipment, Bed Bath & Beyond. Threaded through the strings, these long, thin, flat pieces of metal yielded cool metallic overtones to the sound of any string being picked. The end of the skewers curved into a circular handle, making them easy to twang, which created a fantastically sustained ringing sound that was ripe for processing.
In addition to using various sticks, Kleier and Frith also often thread a spare wound guitar string over and under the strings of the guitar. In addition to creating a unique set of overtones, it effectively bows the strings when the spare string is pulled back and forth. Which brings us to an extended technique that most guitarists are already familiar with, thanks to iconic photos of Jimmy Page.
EBow vs. Real Bow
Up to this point, the eccentric techniques and methods we’ve described are foreign territory to the vast majority of guitarists. But players and listeners alike are likely to recognize the sound of a guitar string being excited by a bow more commonly used on a violin or cello. Fans of Led Zeppelin or Sigur R—s have seen Page or J—n “J—nsi” Þ—r Birgisson stroke guitar strings with a bow to create sustained, ethereal tones.
Although this technique appears simple, perhaps even gimmicky or more visually than aurally motivated, it’s anything but easy—even for a guitarist who started on violin, as this author did. It took Westerhus a while to get the hang of it, too. “I am still learning,” he says. “It takes a lot of practice and is a real pain in the ass, as it will sound dreadful most of the time,” he relates.
That said, Westerhus clearly finds the pursuit worthwhile, because he has put considerable time and research into determining which type of bow best suits his needs. “I get the most dynamic range out of a cello bow, both on normal and baritone guitar. I use one made from some sort of carbon fiber. It’s a lot stronger than a wooden one, and can take being dropped—and it stays straighter for a longer period of time.” As for how he uses it, he says, “By adjusting the firmness, I get a lot of different textures. And your tone will differ, depending on where you stroke the string. The easiest place to start is pretty far back towards the bridge.”
Frith, on the other hand, prefers a smaller bow. “I mostly use children’s cello bows—they’re cheap, sturdy, and easy to put in a guitar case.” Technique-wise, he says, “it depends what you’re trying to do. If you play close to the bridge with the edge of the bow, you’ll get more harmonics. But if you play in the middle of the string with the flat of the bow, you’ll get a more beautiful, ringing tone. It also depends on the stroke—how hard and how quick you play—and how you lift the bow from the strings.”
Regardless of the bow type or technique, rosin is an essential supply for the bowing guitarist. Rosin, which looks like a little bar or cake of glycerin soap, is what violin, viola, cello, and double-bass players use to make the hair on the bow sticky so that it grips the string and pulls it, thus creating sound. As the bow moves, the string snaps back to its original position and is caught again by the rosined hair in a quickly repeated cycle. Without rosin’s grip, bow hair would slide over strings and produce very little sound. “I’ve found that going for something in between a cello and a violin/ viola rosin works well for me and doesn’t kill the strings too fast,” says Westerhus.
Stian Westerhus uses implements like bows and electronics to tweak tones, but he eschews software.
“It’s all in the way two or more pedals interact with each other.” Photo by Behnam Farazollahi
For those wishing to create infinitely sustaining strings with less wrist action and a less drastic learning curve, the Heet Sound EBow is an alternative to the classical bow. Amusingly, the handheld electronic bow Greg Heet invented in 1969 is both the most mechanically complex and the most mundane implement in this article, in terms of acceptance and familiarity among the general guitar-playing populace. This small plastic device has two plastic grooves that are placed upon two nonadjacent strings to enable the oscillating magnetic field in the center of the unit to focus on the string between them—which remains untouched by the EBow itself. Like a violin bow, it vibrates the string and creates various harmonics.
Players as diverse as U2’s the Edge, Be-Bop Deluxe’s Bill Nelson, Radiohead’s Ed O’Brien, and Zakk Wylde have typically used the EBow for sustained pedal tones or string-like melodies and pads. However, the word “typical” is never on one’s lips when listening to the device in the hands of an experimentalist like Tammen. “I prefer to bang it hard onto the pickups—it produces a very violent screeching sound that you can’t get any other way.”
The Kitchen Sink
As the previously discussed implements demonstrate, nothing is off-limits to guitarists dedicated to extended techniques. Frith uses a variety of tins—saddle soap, candy, etc.—and small Chinese gongs. “They can make beautiful sounds if you just place them on the strings with varying degrees of force—but they can also be bowed and scraped, or have objects placed in them while they are there,” he says. “Piano tuning felt is good for damping the strings—which, in conjunction with tapping, produces a percussive sound. Or you can use thin cloth for less extreme damping. Clothes brushes and paint brushes are great for stroking, caressing, rubbing, or deadening the strings—and for playing ‘drums.’”
At a 2009 performance in Seattle, Fred Frith uses drumsticks to coax a barrage of sound
from his Gibson ES-345—which is outfitted with a pickup at the nut. Photo by Aaron
Tammen has his own bag of similarly twisted tricks. “I place a strong magnet from a loudspeaker over a pickup and bang it with a soft mallet. It creates the most beautiful subsonic frequencies. With a subwoofer it blows you away—it may also blow the speaker away,” he warns. “When used as a slide, a pocket warmer with a soft metal cover sounds much more percussive than regular slides. It can also be smashed on the fretboard hard, without damaging the strings or the fretboard. I also slowly crawl over the fretboard with a battery-operated table vacuum cleaner to produce a drone that is rich in overtones.”
Handheld electric fans are good for exciting the strings, either with the blades themselves or by just blowing air over them. Playing prerecorded audio from tape recorders or iPhones into microphonic guitar pickups is also a great way to add speech or ambient sounds to a performance. Similarly, flipping through stations on a handheld radio can create an interesting element of randomness, too. Further, a quick look around your studio or kitchen is likely to produce a plethora of sonic possibilities.
Process and Processing
Though there is often beauty in the arranged noise created with these found objects, sometimes it is largely about the process of experimentation and exploration itself. And the limitless possibilities afforded by the implements discussed here—as well as the spirit of experimentation that you’ll find inspiring you to pick up all sorts of other tools—become exponentially inspiring when you consider what can be done by warping their mechanical tones with electronic gear.
For Westerhus, pedals are a huge part of his sonic playground. “I have a few pedals,” he says, referring to a collection that would rival that of many small music stores, “but I keep changing them. I tried going in the computer direction, but to me it sounds too digital. I don’t like it when I can’t control my own gain structure and push components into sounding different based on my playing dynamics. You don’t get that in a computer—it’s all in the way two or more pedals interact with each other.”
As that statement implies, feedback is an integral part of Westerhus’ sound— and that feedback comes the good old-fashioned way. “I guess I play [at a volume that] most people would describe as [expletive] loud,” he laughs. “It’s a way of sustaining my notes without using the horribly flat-sounding EBow.” He elaborates. “Using distortion, you can easily control feedback at almost any volume because of the compression created, but it becomes flat sounding. I generally don’t like to use anything more than a mild boost from my Fulltone Fulldrive. The big thing for me is that the guitar drives the effects chain hard, and that the amp has enough headroom to be driven hard so that the guitar will respond to the sound of the amp. This makes it all one big instrument. I just brace myself and hope I can control what sometimes feels like a screaming lion between my hands. It takes practice, and it’s different each night at different venues, depending on the room, acoustics, PA, etc. But it’s always good to push your luck onstage.”
Hans Tammen plays manipulates a Steinberger Spirit GT-Pro Deluxe routed through Cycling
74’s Max sound-editing software at the 2010 CeC Festival in India. Photo by Ashok Mehta
Tammen, on the other hand, has no problem with computers. He uses Cycling 74’s Max software to merge laptop and guitar into one instrument. “I do not use electronics in the sense of an effect that you apply to your traditional or extended guitar playing,” he says. “The guitar creates all the sounds, but it controls the software at the same time. The software ‘listens’ to the playing, then determines the parameters of the processing.” Tammen has been known to use an iPhone as a slide while enabling its accelerometer data to control the parameters of his software—effectively creating an extended slide guitar. “I also use a proximity sensor to influence software parameters,” he says. “If both of my hands are working on the guitar, moving my body into the sensor area allows me to control/produce a third voice next to the other two.”
Kleier uses pedals during live performance, but when he’s composing he often radically alters sounds in the computer. “A lot of my recorded sounds keep morphing through plug-ins until they are unrecognizable as guitar,” he explains.
Extend Yourself
But even if you’re more interested in traditional guitar playing, extended techniques can open your ears to new sonic possibilities you can incorporate in any genre. “The future of music relies on players expressing themselves beyond the limits of their instrument,” says Westerhus. Tammen agrees. “Guitarists have always been open to new ideas, instrument modifications, or other crazy things.”
Frith cuts to the heart of the matter. “All the word ‘technique’ means is ‘doing what you need to do to realize what you want to hear,” he says. “In order to develop techniques, you have to practice until you are in control of the material. It’s as true when placing a tin lid on the strings as when you play ‘All the Things You Are’ in Eb. In the end, the ‘what you want to hear’ is the interesting part.”
Attack Squad
A brief introduction to our extended-techniques "professors."
Keith Rowe
Trained as a visual artist, Rowe was a founding member of both the influential AMM in the mid 1960s and M.I.M.E.O. Since the late ’90s, he has been busy recording and touring. He is seen as a godfather of electro-acoustic improvisation, and many of his recent recordings have been released by Erstwhile Records.
Essential Listening:Weather Sky
Fred Frith
Frith was one of the founding members of the English avant-rock group Henry Cow. He has also been a member of Art Bears, Massacre, and Skeleton Crew, collaborating with Robert Wyatt, Derek Bailey, the Residents, John Zorn, Brian Eno, and Bill Laswell. He has composed several long works, and teaches at Mills College.
Essential Listening:Guitar Solos