Does the guitar’s design encourage sonic exploration more than sight reading?
A popular song between 1910 and 1920 would usually sell millions of copies of sheet music annually. The world population was roughly 25 percent of what it is today, so imagine those sales would be four or five times larger in an alternate-reality 2024. My father is 88, but even with his generation, friends and family would routinely gather around a piano and play and sing their way through a stack of songbooks. (This still happens at my dad’s house every time I’m there.)
Back in their day, recordings of music were a way to promote sheet music. Labels released recordings only after sheet-music sales slowed down on a particular song. That means that until recently, a large section of society not only knew how to read music well, but they did it often—not as often as we stare at our phones, but it was a primary part of home entertainment. By today’s standards, written music feels like a dead language. Music is probably the most common language on Earth, yet I bet it has the highest illiteracy rate.
As a lifelong professional musician, it’s surprising—and, frankly, a relief—how infrequently I read staff music. Though I read chord or Nashville number charts often, staff rarely comes up, usually only in sessions where a producer/writer/artist has a particular melody or gang riff. I feel a deep shame when I have to read music; I do it about as well as an out-of-shape guy with no training runs a marathon: slowly, painfully, maybe not making it to the finish line.
I learned everything I know about reading through junior high school orchestra, where I was a crappy violinist. So, you can chalk one up to the Montana public school system. Although at times I’m ashamed of my poor music-reading skills, it’s not that big of a deal. When I’m faced with a written staff full of sharps and flats and weird time, I just ask the keyboard player to play the tricky parts slowly. If there’s one player in the band that can read well, it’s usually keys; they mostly grew up with formal lessons. If I hear piano play the part while I read along, the dots and squiggles on the staff start to make sense.
“By today’s standards, written music feels like a dead language.”
I bet most guitar players feel conflicted about reading music. We all want to learn as much as we can about guitar, and obviously some of that information is going to escape us if we can’t read it, even with tabs and guitar-nerd videos just a few clicks away. But maybe our lack of formal training is the source of our superpower. I suspect that the reason guitar has been the driving force behind most popular music for the past 65 years is because the instrument invites exploration. The more you mess with it, the more you discover. That’s the addictive quality of guitar. That’s probably why most guitar players would rather make stuff up than read what somebody else wants them to play. When you have that many people experimenting and creating, art takes a big step forward.
By contrast, classical musicians are not about innovation or taking chances. They are more about interpretation, virtuosity, and a reverence for tradition. The majority of classical music played today was composed in 1600 to 1875. New, experimental classical music is a hard sell. People want to hear the classics, like Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart.
It’s a strange dichotomy: classical players tune by ear but almost never play by ear. Ask a seasoned orchestra player to improvise and most of them will get a little panicky.
Guitarist: Let’s jam in E.
Orchestra Nerd: What do you mean?
Guitarist: I’ll play something, you play with it. Just make up a melody.
Orchestra Nerd: What melody?
Guitarist: Just make one up?
Orchestra Nerd: What do you mean?
It goes on like that until they nervously decline.
Guitarists are, for the most part, fearless about exploration. Just look at the instrument itself. Most violins built anywhere in the world today look pretty much like the ones built in the 16th century in Italy. By contrast, guitar designs are as varied as car designs—maybe more so. Go into a big music store and you can play a gut-string, flattop, archtop, Les Paul, Tele, Strat, Jaguars, PRS, Flying V, Explorer … and that’s not even getting into the weird ones. Eddie Van Halen could not find a guitar that could produce the music in his head, so he built it. The point is, guitar is an instrument of improvisation—no rules in how you play it or how you build it.
Maybe this is just a way of justifying my shortcomings or making the most of my laziness or lack of brainpower, but I think there’s an upside to being musically illiterate. As the mighty EVH said: “You only have 12 notes, do what you want with them.”
Guest picker Mei Semones joins reader Jin J X and PGstaff in delving into the backgrounds behind their picking styles.
Question: What picking style have you devoted yourself to the most, and why does it work for you?
Guest Picker - Mei Semones
Mei’s latest album, Kabutomushi.
A: The picking style I’ve practiced the most is alternate picking, but the picking style I usually end up using is economy picking. Alternate feels like a dependable way to achieve evenness when practicing scales and arpeggios, but when really playing, it doesn’t make sense to articulate every note in that way, and obviously it’s not always the fastest.
Obsession: My current music-related obsession is my guitar, my PRS McCarty 594 Hollowbody II. I think it will always be an obsession for me. It’s so comfortable and light, has a lovely, warm, dynamic tone, and helps me play faster and cleaner. This guitar feels like my best friend and soulmate.
Reader of the Month - Jin J X
Photo by Ryan Fannin
A: For decades, the Eric Johnson-style “hybrid picking” with a Jazz III for “pianistic” voicings. Great for electric, though not so much acoustic. I’ve been recently learning to use a flatpick, à la Brian Sutton, by driving the pick “into” the string at an angle—which makes me think of Pat Metheny and George Benson, without irony.
Obsession: I’m still focused on understanding the concepts of jazz, neo-classical, and beyond, though I’m also becoming obsessed with George Van Eps’ 7-string playing, flatpicking, hip-hop beats, the Hybrid Guitars Universal 6 guitar, and the secret life of the banjo.
Editorial Director - Ted Drozdowski
A: Decades ago, under the sway of Mississippi blues artists R.L. Burnside, Junior Kimbrough, and Jessie Mae Hemphill, I switched from plectrum to fingerstyle, developing my own non-traditional approach. It’s technically wrong, but watching R.L., in particular, freestyle, I learned there is no such thing as wrong if it works.
Obsession: Busting out of my songwriting patterns. With my band Coyote Motel, and earlier groups, I’ve always encouraged my talented bandmates to play what they want in context, but brought in complete, mapped-out songs. Now, I’m bringing in sketches and we’re jamming and hammering out the arrangements and melodies together. It takes more time, but feels rewarding and fun, and is opening new territory for me.
Managing Editor - Kate Koenig
A: I have always been drawn to fingerpicking on acoustic guitar, starting with classical music and prog-rock pieces (“Mood for a Day” by Steve Howe), and moving on to ’70s baroque-folk styles, basic Travis picking, and songs like “Back to the Old House” by the Smiths. I love the intricacy of those styles, and the challenge of learning to play different rhythms across different fingers at the same time. This is definitely influenced by my classical training on piano, which came before guitar.
Obsession: Writing and producing my fifth and sixth albums. My fifth album, Creature Comforts, was recorded over the past couple months, and features a bunch of songs I wrote in 2022 that I had previously sworn to never record or release. Turns out, upon revisiting, they’re not half bad! While that one’s being wrapped, I’m trying to get music written for my sixth, for which I already have four songs done. And yes, this is a flex. 💪😎
Our columnist shares how this guitar comes alive when played, with its small body belying its impressive voice.
Last month, I was talking about fragile guitars and how I’m always afraid of damaging or marring delicate things. Well, this month, I’ll take another look at a small hollowbody that, when I first got it, scared me in a different sort of way. Gentle reader, this guitar was alive—and I mean that in a sincere way. Good grief; this little guy vibrated and shook like an old-school 1970s stereo at full tilt! Let me introduce you to the St. George EP-85, dating to around 1964.
In the early days of guitar importing, there were a few Americans who ventured over to Japan, and Anthony George was one of the first. Mr. George owned several George Music Stores in upstate New York and one in Los Angeles, California. And, you guessed it, he used “St. George” as his brand name. He was influential in getting instrument manufacturer FujiGen Gakki up and running, and he was a rather prolific importer of Japanese guitars. He would often make specifications to Japanese factories and ask for certain models. Many of his early designs were originals, and kinda cool in their own right. The guy had an eye for design and sales, so most of his guitars sold pretty well. During one of my trips to Japan, I got the chance to look over sales receipts and shipping orders (FujiGen saved everything), and Anthony George was all over the earliest records. (One of his grandsons is still around, and is a fine fella!)
Now, the St. George EP-85 was made by Kawai, since the company was earlier to the game than FujiGen. Kawai had already designed a few pickups and had a full woodworking factory, since their previous business was in making pianos. The Kawai company had several decades of woodworking experience, and it had amassed a stockpile of properly aged wood. Some of the finest wood I’ve ever seen can be found on the earliest Kawai guitars. Seriously, there’s gorgeous Brazilian rosewood and finely flamed maple on basic student models! I’m not usually a wood fanatic, but I have seen Japanese factories with whole warehouses full of 100-year-old wood, and I’ve seen drying facilities with classical music being pumped in so the wood can be happy, I guess. What I’m trying to say is that in the traditional Japanese manner, they take their art seriously, no matter what the medium. And this undersized EP-85 is a perfect example.
“Good grief; this little guy vibrated and shook like an old-school 1970s stereo at full tilt!”
I no longer own this guitar, but I remember my experience with it pretty clearly. I’m guessing that this model was designed to resemble an early 1960s Gibson ES-140T because of the size, single Florentine cutaway, and P-90-like pickups. The St. George has a similar wood construction to the ES-140T as well. I have some experience with older Gibson hollowbodies, because there was a Gibson retailer in my area, and I used to see some cool examples show up in the classified ads back in the day. I also own a 1956 Gibson ES-125, and that thing projects like a cannon! The St. George, though smaller, also projects well, and when I first played it, it was shakin’ all over! The guitar was one of the most resonant instruments I have ever owned! I have guitars hanging all over the walls here and I often just strum them and listen, or feel, for resonance. The EP-85 was always the belle of the ball!
The electronics feature a basic layout of two volumes and one tone knob, and then a pickup switcher located on the upper bout. The pickups, in common Kawai fashion, read out at around 4k. But also in Kawai fashion, the wiring is in series, so the middle position puts out close to 8k, which can really drive a small tube amp. Thankfully, the neck angle is serviceable, which really is a blessing since the truss rod isn’t adjustable.
For slide players, this guitar is the bee’s knees! It can handle a little overdrive without totally losing it, and the constant string contact allows for some control over the feedback. Otherwise this guitar wants to take off and fly into the feedback zone, which is always sort of a cool adventure.
This model only had a short run, and was gone from Kawai catalogs by around 1965. Those big white cupcake knobs and pickups help to place a date of the early 1960s, and as the years passed, so did the quality of Kawai electrics. The company did go through an insane design phase in the late 1960s, but none of the guitars shake like this one. And, I didn’t break it!