Ambitious, hot-wired, and frying the fretboard, the breakout artist discusses songwriting, tone, honesty, and ambition. His collaborator and mentor Vernon Reid joins in.
Rock guitarist Derek Day’s nascent career speaks for itself. At 24, he’s toured with Steve Vai, Living Colour, and Lynch Mob, and has plenty of ebullient charm and rocket-fueled ambition. When asked where he sees himself in five years, he says, with mild reservation, “I will be 100 percent playing the largest stages on the planet.
“There’s no way to not sound bad when you say that,” he observes, “but it’s only because I really believe the things I’m trying to say.”
Day’s latest single, “Click on Me,” was released with a music video in September 2020, and shows just what makes him so exciting: guitar work with fangs, slightly overdriven and snarling, combined with rasping, ruthless, metal-esque vocals that could kill. If it’s not obvious with a quick listen, the song expresses social commentary on widespread internet addiction.
“One of the things that I love about the song is the way it ends,” says Vernon Reid, legendary guitarist of Living Colour and producer and co-writer of “Click on Me.”
“‘When did we volunteer for this slavery?’ And boom! It leaves you with this very stark question,” Reid explains. “It doesn’t sugarcoat it; it doesn’t hold your hand. It forces you to consider what’s been presented.”
There’s even more to Day than the vicious attitude and guitar incisors he displays on that tune. He’s a dedicated songwriter that’s passionate about arranging, who says he draws inspiration from David Bowie, who, Day adds, “knew how to arrange a song like no one else.” One of his goals is to write a film score. “It would just be a blast to sit down for hours on end. I love Tom Waits—he creates atmospheres. I feel like I could do that.”
Looking at his trajectory so far, yes, it seems he could do that, and much more. When we reached Day and Vernon Reid for this interview, Day was in a typically buoyant mood. “I’ve been writing and recording with the band every single day, so it’s just been really busy, and having calls such as these and stuff ... not a moment to sleep.” He laughs, but with his work ethic and high-bar goals, he won’t be caught napping anytime soon.
How are you feeling about the way “Click on Me” has broken out?
Derek Day: Feeling great. This is the most success I’ve had on a release. I’m just an indie artist. I feel like the content is something I’m really proud of, and something I want to keep pushing. Just this one single itself—I’ll always be promoting it. I’ll always send it to people—if anything, for some form of social purpose.
What was it like working with Vernon?
Day: It was very intimidating at first. He’s a very intimidating guy, because he’s a genius—musically, but also with life. He’s extremely well-read and he’s really smart. But then I just felt overwhelmed with gratitude. Everything he says is such a piece of knowledge, and it’s always new. It was kind of surreal, to say the least.
And Vernon, what was it like for you working with Derek?
Vernon Reid: Derek Day is 100 percent rock ’n’ roll. All the times I’ve seen him play, being with him in the studio, being with him in my house—he’s the same guy. He just has it. And I love his playing because it reminds me a little bit of the late, great Tommy Bolin.
He’s got chops but he’s very melodic. He’s not playing, like, “Okay, here comes the fabulous arpeggio, because that’s the script.” That’s not what he does. He plays what’s in his heart. And then, vocally he’s crazy. There’s a bit of Jeff Buckley in his voice, a bit of Freddie Mercury. He’s an outstanding vocalist as well as guitarist. And he’s got the songs to support. His songs are great context for his enthusiasm, vocals, and his great guitar playing.I’m just psyched for America to get on the program. He’s got it; he really has got that thing.
You guys toured together.
Day: Yeah, that’s how we got to work together on writing.
Can you talk about how that developed?
Reid: We met via Derek’s manager, Ali Shayesteh. He’s an old friend. And he called me and he was very excited about this young guitar player and singer/songwriter that he hooked up. And Living Colour was doing a West Coast run, and he said maybe we could get some dates. Really, from the first time I heard him play and sing, I was like, “That kid’s legit.”
Day: We kind of became a family with the crew and everything. I think that sort of sparked us, right? ’Cause the following January, that’s when we started writing. I left on New Year’s Day, at three in the morning—took a red-eye out to Staten Island, [New York] where Vernon is, and we just started writing immediately. That’s how we wrote “Click on Me.” We’d meet at 7 or 8 a.m. and just write all afternoon. We got a bunch of stuff, but that was the one where I was like, “Alright, let’s make this one happen.”
“This is the most success I’ve had on a release,” Day says of his pointed single, “Click on Me.” “I feel like the content is something I’m really proud of, and something I want to keep pushing.”
What was it about that song that made you realize it was the one?
Day: Well, the first thing you do when you write with someone is you just talk. You’re just like, “What do you like? What do you think is cool?” It’s kind of awkward. But we both had so much in common. We both love sci-fi and stuff. We love Star Wars. We’re just goofing off, and that led into technology. And he told me, “Man, I’ve really been wanting to write a song about this whole phone thing, this whole social media thing. I know some writers are kind of pointing to it, but no one’s really saying what it really is.”
Reid: We were talking about it and knocked around phrases, and it started to emerge. The song used us to write it. What I like about it is that it talks about something that’s such an impact on our lives, but there are no songs about it. We’re overwhelmed by [the internet]—we’re addicted to it. It’s weird because it’s all subconsciously chasing us around, it’s telling us things that we do. It’s a weird, selective space. And that’s the thing the song attempts to speak to. I don’t know of any other song that’s taken that on.
Day: That was the one that got completed fully, pretty much to the T, in a day. And then we spat around a bunch of other ideas. We wrote two other full songs. One is more of a ballad, more personal to my family life. Another one is perfect for these times. It’s about the new form of plague happening. That’s actually something I would love to pick up on.
Tell me more about the co-writing process.
Day: I came with these licks and riffs, the key of the song, but Vernon really shaped it. It was kind of sporadic. A lot of unnecessary notes here and there. I was just excited, like, “Here’s this idea!” I had five separate ideas in the key of D, and we narrowed it down to maybe two or three. But Vernon’s got that ear. He’s just like, “No, we don’t need that, this is going to take away from the point.” Then he wrote a bunch of the words, like, “How did no place become the place to be?” He would give me these hard lines and they would literally just push me back on my feet. And I would kind of fill in the gaps here and there. Honestly, we were so in this universe, I can’t say anything is mine without him being a part of it. It was this big messy blur. Songwriting is weird [laughs].
Reid: Also, what I love about this song is it’s very stark. The way Derek goes, “I want to go viral.” When he sings it, he sounds almost like a spoiled brat. It sounds almost monstrous—that borderline obsession that’s in his voice.
After Day opened dates with Living Colour, he and Reid became friends, and then, songwriting and production collaborators. Here, Reid plays his PRS Signature Vela Egyptian, while Day bears Milkshake, his Fender American Professional II Stratocaster. Photo by David Simchock
What was the recording process like?
Day: It was super easy. We did maybe three takes and then we chose the second one, or something. Same with the other songs that we recorded. I had to step up to the plate because I don’t want to mess up in front of this guy.
Vernon, was there any particular approach you took as the song’s producer?
Reid: I wanted the song to have a very raw [feel]. I’m listening for the take that really crystallizes the groove, the rawness of it. ’Cause we did the song, but then he went and did it with the band, and I said, “Man, the band is killing me!” It’s just got this muscular kind of swagger to it, is the best way I could put it. And I wanted to capture that. And Derek, I mean he’s a joy to work with.
Let’s talk about gear. Derek, how do you get your tone?
Day: Tone is crazy, ’cause in the studio it’s one thing and live it’s another thing. In the studio you try everything and anything. You’re literally plugging into a toilet to see if it sounds alright [laughs]. Live, I’ve been using these really cool pedals from this Dutch company called NEXI: a Dutch Screamer and the NEXI Overdrive. Then there’s the classic Boss [BD-2W Blues Driver] as well. Those are weird, ’cause they’re kind of on the cheaper side of things, but if you know how to make it work with your amp, you can get just a creamy, beefy sound. That’s what I’m going for. Kind of creamy, beefy for the chords and whatever I’m playing—meat and potatoes. I use a Fender Bassbreaker. It’s just a 2x12. I’m endorsed by Fender so they gave it to me for the Living Colour tour. I fell in love with it!
The solo tone is pretty different. My goal is to make it sound like something you would hear in space. There’s a really cool pedal called the FreqOut, given to me by my friend, Thomas Nordegg, who was Zappa’s guitar tech and is now Steve Vai’s. It helps me sustain notes. But I try not to use too many pedals. Every now and then I’ll do a whammy pedal, but those are just little moments. All of these I’m mentioning are tough. You just gotta spend hours turning knobs half a centimeter. But all of the tone is in your fingers at the end of the day.
What are your guitar preferences?
Day: I’m a Stratocaster guy, but I’m moving more towards the Tele. But I need a whammy bar, and that’s because I love to play all the notes in between the 12 notes. I was never so much a gear freak. I performed on the street for the first 10 years of my career, so just having a piece of wood with strings on it is like my favorite thing ever[laughs].
I love the Stevie Ray Vaughan Stratocaster. I have one of those and it’s just the kind of tone that makes you want to keep playing. You never want to put the guitar down. It just makes it so personal. You can really hear your fingers. I’m down for any pickup that also doesn’t get in the way. It just lets you work a little hard. I don’t know …personally I don’t have any super preference—as long as it’s intact, it’s like my favorite guitar.
Derek Day’s go-for-it style of performing is captured in this action shot. Reid describes the highly focused Fender flogger as “100 percent rock ’n’ roll.” Photo by JPM Photography
Was busking a big part of your musical upbringing?
Day: Yeah. I went out there when I was like 13. I’ve been singing since I was a kid, and I’d just been wanting to do that for so long—walking down the streets of Santa Monica. That helped me build my chops—mess up a lot, break strings, or learn how to play an untuned guitar for like three songs. I was really just self-taught. And, of course, I attended a couple of after-school classes: beginning piano, beginning classical guitar. If there’s something free, I would just go run to it. “Alright, teach me this.” It was all self-motivated.
Who are your main influences on guitar?
Day: Steve Vai’s a big one. I just love how effortless he is with the guitar. And Stevie Ray Vaughan, just because, ah! He’s crazy man. Ever since I was a kid, he taught me to try to break your guitar while you’re playing it. With your fingers, just break it. John Coltrane is another one. I’m intrigued by Coltrane because no matter how hard I try, I still have to debunk him. I’m like, how do I play like a saxophone player on guitar? There’s ways; I know there’s ways.
Then Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder—a lot of keyboardists. David Bowie. Tom Waits—he knows how to create an atmosphere. We all know Tom. In his later years maybe he’d use a frying pan as a guitar pick. He taught me how to be inventive. Like Stevie Ray, he plays it so percussively. I feel like they all taught me to play my guitar like it’s another instrument. Because I feel like Coltrane plays the sax as if it was a theremin or something. There’s just air, and there’s nothing stopping him.
What’s your creative process like?
Day: I guess the trick for me is just get to the place where you can be the most honest. What I do is I lock myself in a room, maybe with my dog—I have a German shepherd. And I make sure I have at least six hours of just me. I make sure no one talks to me or texts me or anything. Usually the first four hours are nothing. And then it’s like the last two hours you write your “Stairway to Heaven” or your “Bohemian Rhapsody.” That’s when you start writing genius stuff.
Actually, ever since Vernon told me, “Hey I want to write about this,” that has planted a seed. Before I write about something, I’m going to state what I want to write about and say it out loud, even if it’s just to myself. That way it’s just floating around in this closed room and it’ll come back to you. But, really, just putting time in and being honest any way you can, even if that means doing a handstand for 10 minutes. And be brutal, too. Like “I don’t like that person anymore,” or “I do and I’m in love with this person.” You’ve just got to be stupid brutal—really surprise yourself with your honesty, and then you get the best song.
Where do you usually take inspiration from?
Day: Definitely from history. I’m a history buff so a lot of the songs reference a historical event. Whether it be World War II or something. My name “D. Day” is kind of based on that as well. World War II is a big thing I excelled at in history classes. And that led me to more things, like the Mayans and stuff. I’m part Mayan. Also I think we all are inspired by nature. The vibrant colors kind of help me describe things. Or feeling the soot of freshly watered dirt. The last thing I would say is just geniuses, like Vernon Reid. Or, for example, I talked on the phone with Steve Vai for a minute, and it was seriously worth five years of college. I just try to surround myself with geniuses, ’cause then I just go home and start working.
Do you have any other music lined up for future release?
Day: Yeah, definitely. I have like four more songs in the bank, just chillin’. Two of ’em I recorded with Vernon and two other ones just throughout the last year or so. I kind of just recorded these songs for my own health. I felt like I needed to, and they sound really great. I might try to release something either December or first thing January. And it’s just going to be a part of either a five-song EP with “Click on Me” on it, or … I don’t know. Nowadays it’s hard to tell what the strategy is? Just like singles, maybe. But I have other tunes that will be out very soon actually. No later than spring.
What’s something you’ve learned from your career?
Day: There’s a lot of sacrifice. A lot of those Saturday nights you have to just stay home and work. That’s the reality of it, because the next day someone’s going to call you and they’re going to need you for something, and you’ll be ready. Or you won’t be! And then that’ll determine your entire career. Think about above and beyond and go way further.
Does artificially breaking in a guitar by “exciting” it really work—at least in the manner we hope it will? And what does that have to do with cheese?
As musicians, we all know the effects of music reach far beyond just fun and entertainment, whether it's helping with depression, influencing our basic mood, bringing people together, or one of myriad other reasons.
But then there are those surprising finds. Swiss cheesemaker Beat Wampfler partnered with a research team from the Bern University of the Arts in Switzerland to improve the taste of his Emmentaler cheese. There are a lot of factors, like humidity, temperature, and nutrients during gestation, involved in the cheese's final taste and aroma.
However, the primary objective of this project was to determine whether one could taste what those wheels of cheese had been listening to during their six months of gestation. The choice of music for each wheel of cheese ranged from The Magic Flute by Mozart to Led Zeppelin's “Stairway to Heaven" on a 24/7 loop. The team also incorporated some hip-hop by A Tribe Called Quest and EDM from Vril, among other varying genres. And, of course, there was also an untreated control group.
After the aging of the music-infused cheese, the team conducted a blindfolded taste test in a standardized experimental design, performed by several specially trained food-sensory researchers. The final outcome? The experts determined the hip-hop-laced cheese came out on top, with the strongest aroma and taste. Meanwhile, the arts team learned more about the scientific field of sonochemistry, which looks at the impact of sound on chemical reactions in solid bodies and plants.
The first experiments exposing plants to music started in 1962, and the many that followed found that classical music could enhance both the growth and yield of plants. In 2004, the rather anarchistic TV show MythBusters set up a similar experiment by exposing plants to several music styles, as well as positive and negative talk. The plants apparently didn't care whether you talked nicely to them or not, just as long as you did so. In the end, heavy metal music was the victor, with the most growth.
As entertaining as these “studies" are, I hope they don't lead anyone to seriously believe any cheese or plant has any sort of musical preferences. The topic, however, shows a few similarities to musicians who believe their instruments have to be “played in" for optimal tone, or that vintage instruments are superior simply because they've been played for so many decades.
With that belief, there is, of course, a market for devices to speed up the process of breaking in basses and guitars, mainly by attaching speakers to the instrument close to the bridge. It's interesting that when devotees of the process/technology argue its merits and how it all works, they often refer to the influence of sound on plants. First and foremost, there is a huge difference between a system of living cells and a guitar's wooden body. One consists of cells transporting all kinds of fluids and nourishments—it is well known that vibration can significantly stimulate division and cell-membrane fluidity—while the other one is a dead tree, plain and simple.
One company's process suggests using white and pink noise to specifically trim it to your preferred personal sound. Pink noise covers all audible frequencies with higher amplitudes in the bass register than the equally weighed white noise. So, if you want more bass from the instrument, simply extend the exposure time to pink noise, right? But they also say the process can be even more specific if you play the music genre to the instrument you plan to ultimately use it for, and to “make it loud, but never let the signal distort." Following this logic, wouldn't that mean bad news if you plan on playing death metal? And is my instrument ruined if my band members prank me by secretly playing Wham's “Last Christmas" to my bass on a loop?
The theory behind the process is that feeding external vibrations within the resonance range reduces internal tensions, and that the applied energy remains in the material and raises even more over time. This is partially true, as all the applied vibrational energy is heating up the body, but it also implies that you can store this energy to let it drain out via the output jack once you plug in.
To me, the whole played-in idea is simply a psychological effect, where every minute spent with your instrument deepens your relationship with it. It's similar to how hugging a tree feels like reconnecting to nature for some, while the tree couldn't care less. It's not that applying vibrations to wood can't have influences on its mechanical properties. But if so, it's way more likely to be a treatment to soften the tops of acoustic instruments, which might allow for stronger movements and a more dynamic reaction to the strings. With electric solidbody basses and guitars? Not so much. That said, if you can spend the cash, feeling better might be enough of a reason to give it a try!
The difference between a good guitar and a great guitar is subjective, but it goes way beyond tone and aesthetics.
I used to hate Stratocasters. Okay, that’s not exactly the full truth, but as much as I admired their straightforward design, signature sound, and robust construction, they never gave me gooseflesh like, say, a blonde dot-neck 335. My happy place was that buttery smooth 24 3/4" feel and the fat, fat, fat, singing sustain of a humbucker-shod, glued-neck guitar. That’s not to say I haven’t owned a slew of Fender products over the years. I treasured the 1950s maple-necked Strats and Teles that passed through my hands, but I never really bonded with them. I didn’t feel like they were my friends.
Fatal attraction. No doubt about it: Visuals are a powerful thing. Whether it’s walking into a store or browsing online, your eyes are your gear radar. And once locked onto the target, a lot of potential turn-offs can be rationalized into the background. I’m as guilty as the next person of being seduced by a lovely shape. I’ve owned at least three of the same-model electric 12-string just because they were so fetching visually. Inevitably, their narrow and crowded necks rendered them almost unplayable to me, so each time I quickly gave up on them.
If the shoe fits. A comfortable neck is a great selling point that has lured many a guitarist into playing certain instruments. Easy is good, right? One of the reasons I didn’t get on with Stratocasters was that everything seemed harder to play on them. I interpreted the long-scale stiffness as an impediment, and quickly lost interest no matter how good they sounded. Once, however, I found myself in a situation where for a couple months my only guitar at home was a Strat. After being held hostage for a few weeks, I realized that a little fight was good for me, and the skirmish became the point. Once I acknowledged this, wringing the neck into submission became a joy instead of a struggle. I also became aware that easy can be lazy, and the Strat pushed me to do better. Amazingly, it also made playing more comfortable guitars better, too.
The quest for tone. At the heart of most guitar safaris is the belief that if we had the right tone, we’d be inspired to play more—and better. This is where things get a little misguided. Some guitarists talk about searching for a sound they hear in their heads, which might not be as useful as finding the sounds already buried in the guitars they own. When you examine the breadth of tones that different artists get from the exact same guitar, you realize that sometimes it’s the archer, not the arrow.
The argument for exploration. When I was first starting out, I didn’t know how to mine for gold in any given guitar. But being broke and relegated to a cheap beginner’s instrument, I was forced to explore what it could do. Luckily, I was so fascinated with the damn thing that I tried all sorts of stuff. I experimented with where I picked the strings and noted how that position sounded on all the notes up and down the neck—and how it changed with the different pickups. I turned the controls constantly in conjunction with the amp settings and made mental notes of what happened. I played too loud, and then softly. I leaned the headstock against the speaker and banged on the body. Everything was fair game, and I built up a catalog of knowledge. I’m not a great player, but I know a lot about what guitars can do and why. Along the way, I’ve discovered that building a friendship over time is sometimes better than a first impression might imply.
Quality time. What makes an instrument become a soul mate? First impressions are important, but sometimes misleading. We all have stories about guitars that catch our eye from across the room. Their beauty beckons us closer and invites our touch, but living with them becomes a letdown. Then there are the sleepers that just make you feel at home. I think that sometimes it comes down to spending quality time with each other. My favorite guitars are the ones that push me to try a little harder and reward me when I do. I don’t feel judged if I try something a little beyond my reach, and they don’t complain if I tell the same old story for the hundredth time. Your guitar should bring out your best, and catch you when you fall without judgment. Sometimes that trust just takes a while.