A wake-up call for guitarists as we use quarantine time to develop our studio chops.
With so many of us getting more into recording since quarantine, it's recently struck me harder than ever how deeply social-media mentality has seeped into our psyches as musicians. We've all been hearing for years how Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc. can adversely affect self-esteem, perceived quality of life, and overall happiness. And we've all heard how Instagram photo filters have so warped the self-image of pre-teens, teens, young adults, and even old-ass adults the world over that there are plastic surgeons buying effing yachts off money they made mangling some formerly beautiful person's perfectly normal face to look like a half-space-jackal anime character.
Yet so many of us are blind to how this same manner of thinking affects us in other ways—including how we present our music. Even many who resist the unspoken social-media mandate to post pics that paint “everyday life" as pristine, flawless, and oh so woke, still somehow end up thinking their music shouldn't see the light of day unless it's been edited, compressed, noise-gated, and EQ'd to be the sonic equivalent of a nipped, tucked, Botoxed, and Photoshopped “influencer." We see through the bullshit of YouTube and IG's soulless shillmeisters, and yet unwittingly embrace their fake, manufactured aesthetic as the ideal. Without even realizing it, we've let ourselves be conditioned to think good music in the 21st century equates to robotically unwavering tempos, metronome-perfect timing, and either “flawless" execution or jaw-dropping virtuosity—and there sure as hell better not be any fret or amp noise!
What's so ironic is that, while expecting these things of ourselves, in the very next breath we'll turn around and kneel at the metaphorical alter of artists from yore who did none of this. We'll oooh and aaah and fawn over songs that literally changed the fucking world with their soulfulness, fire, and humanity.
We'll adulate bands, players, and singers whose studio recordings moved and breathed as unpredictably as a living organism, varying together in bpm and instrumental and emotional nuance in ways that would give modern MP3 compression algorithms a panic attack. We're either oblivious about or completely forget the fact that some of the greatest guitarists of all time laid down legendary performances precisely because they knew vibe beats mechanical precision, hands-down, every time.
Jimmy Page—perhaps the most potent riffer/composer/studio wizard in all of rock guitardom—didn't let a little flub here and there hold back mind-blowing tunes like “Heartbreaker" and “I Can't Quit You Babe" (where he stumbles a little in the solos) and ““Since I've Been Loving You" (where you can hear John Bonham's kick-pedal squeak throughout the entire song). Said Page of instances like these in a 1977 interview: “There are mistakes … but it doesn't make any difference. You've got to be reasonably honest about it." Meanwhile, Eddie Van Halen freely admitted to botching a bit of the tapping in “Eruption"—y'know, that little 1978 ditty that single-handedly obliterated the world's guitar paradigm?
In a bit of a silver lining, COVID has forced us to reckon with this outlook somewhat. Lockdown has sucked the big one for everyone, especially touring artists, but it's also found us watching more homegrown guerilla performances from bands and artists we've always loved but who've had to figure out ways to get their craft out to the world without the aid of their usual backing band, sound person, lighting crew, etc. And admit it—it's been refreshing to see artists put themselves out there for the world despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, knowing full well the usual recording-studio sheen and/or video-editing magic won't be making them come across like immortals from another galaxy. Their hair isn't perfect, they might have a zit or two, their house/apartment/garage looks as shabby as ours, their amps buzz and their guitars don't always stay in tune or even necessarily sound that great. And it's important that we realize it's been refreshing precisely because of these things, not despite them. The trick is going to be holding onto these realizations once we finally get back to some semblance of normality. But, in my opinion, allowing this humanity in our tunes is as important today as it was in rock's golden age.
Muse's guitar leader's latest namesake model looks stripped-down, but offers many practical extras.
RatingsPros:Nice price. Well-placed kill switch. Feels super sturdy. Cons: Pickups can feel midrange heavy. Street: $599 Cort Manson MBM-1 Matt Bellamy Signature mansonguitarworks.com | Tones: Playability: Build/Design: Value: |
Take a cursory listen to a few of Muse’s biggest bangers and it’s easy to hear how Matt Bellamy has become a guitar hero to an entire generation. Those pulsing riffs and staccato textures made Muse arena-level huge, and led Bellamy to a partnership with Manson guitars and a line of signature models including the new META MBM-1, created in partnership with Cort.
The META MBM-1 is a sleek and sturdy rock machine. The basswood body and bolt-on Canadian hard maple neck feel snug and ready for the grind of a working life. A smartly situated kill switch is located on the upper bout (you often see kill switches tucked inconveniently among other controls). A sustainer is also available for an extra charge. The locking tuners—which worked spectacularly—are a very welcome and practical upgrade for a guitar in this price range. Meanwhile, the pickups are of Manson’s own design. They sound and feel hotter than a typical PAF-style humbucker, with more presence in the midrange and very punchy low-end output. But the pickups offer nice dynamic range for both clean tones and higher-gain fare. At just about $600, the MBM-1 is a streamlined, budget-friendly riff machine full of musical possibilities.
Test Gear:Fender Hot Rod Deluxe IV, Jackson Audio Broken Arrow, Wampler Paisley Drive
A lifelong friend and student of EVH grieves the loss of a once-in-a-lifetime artist who fused musicality, precision, and groove with an architect’s vision.
An electric guitar is made of wood, wires, metal bits, and magnets, all inert and lacking biological response. However, we know that certain mysterious combinations can unlock the powers of sapient creatures, like Arthur pulling the sword from the stone. For most of us, the guitar is cruel, incapable of ever being played fully in tune, and causes its suitors to shed layers of skin on their fingertips while trying to tame it. It taunts all of us as if to say, “You’re adorable, I like what you’re trying to do.” Many of us humbly quit and curse the very existence of the instrument, lamenting that we do not possess the skill required to make the guitar obey our commands.
But every so often a guitarist comes along who does something so unexpected, even the guitar itself has no choice but to surrender. Edward Lodewijk Van Halen was such a guitarist, and arguably, he inspired more people to play guitar than anyone in history. A perennial rule-breaker with a name mightier than most mythical beasts, he commanded the instrument to perform as a pure extension of his unbridled creativity all while smiling wider than the Grand Canyon. It was as if he space-docked himself to the guitar prior to launching into the “ZONE,” where he was able to effortlessly summon otherworldly riffs.
Music was changed forever when Edward Van Halen was introduced to the world and now it’s forever changed by his early departure from our world. To this day, there isn’t a more original guitar intro than “Mean Street.” It’s as perplexing now as it was 39 years ago when it forced all of us to ask ourselves, “How is he doing that?” Which, by the way, he had all of us asking that question since the first Van Halen album, when we heard “Eruption.” Because he was such an innovator, we may never stop asking that question.
For those of us old enough to remember living in an analog world where we listened deep and hard and caught all the nuances on every recording because we didn’t have search engines to offer us ubiquitous visual references yet, take a moment to cherish that feeling of being so completely blown away by EVH’s contributions to music. We lined up at record stores to pay for as much music as we could afford and camped out in the snow in long lines with other worshipers to buy tickets for concerts we couldn’t imagine missing. We took binoculars with us hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of EVH demonstrating what in the actual fuck he was doing. We couldn’t get enough and couldn’t wait to see what he would come up with next. He changed our lives.
Edward Van Halen fueled a desire for music in millions of fans through his guitar playing and his signature sound. The geometric patterns he designed for his instruments became iconic as well. The abstract nature of his guitar artwork bolstered the originality of his music, causing players to not only imitate his playing but his actual artwork as well. There aren’t many musical artists who can be recognized within seconds the way EVH can. We know him from a single note or a single glance at his guitar. He was the architect behind it all.
He often simplified the complexities of his music, explaining, “I just want my guitar playing to make people feel something.” He accomplished that beyond his wildest dreams. For all of his incredible skills, he remained humble, even a bit insecure. That made his music even more likable because he remained human, even though we all idolized him as a superhero. His influence can already be measured over 40 years, and without question he will inspire many future generations.
Edward Van Halen himself was lightning in a bottle, and he could transfer that energy to arenas and stadiums like nobody before or since. Van Halen as a band left audiences feeling like they were floating above the ground for weeks after seeing them perform. The band described it as playing for 10,000 of their closest friends and, at their apex, there was nothing that could compete with the almighty Van Halen.
Even though he had the physical capability to display his prowess, EVH had the maturity and restraint to know what was right for the song in every sense. He was a brilliant arranger, opening all our minds to the utilization of interstitial structures to lead us back to the massive hooks he composed. When it came to soloing, his opening phrases were the stuff of legend. He was natural, he flowed seamlessly from improvisation to calculated and sophisticated syncopations. Edward’s impeccable inner pulse was his greatest asset and the very thing that made his playing so unique. To even get close to imitating his actual playing would take a lifetime. If you ever did get there, you would be confronted with the realization that Edward would’ve climbed his own mountain instead.
As athletic as his playing could be, it was never flash over substance. He epitomized the fusion of technical precision and musicality. His intense rhythmic bond with his brother, Alex, fueled their music in a way that can’t be accurately described in words but can most definitely be felt emotionally. It was glorious to watch the virtuoso Van Halen brothers doing what they do best, and when Wolfgang joined the mix, the DNA trifecta was one of Edward’s proudest moments. He loved playing music with them and we should all take a moment to recognize that the Van Halen family loss is deep. If “Unchained” used to fire you up, it might make you cry your eyes out now.
We are the benefactors of Edward Van Halen’s groundbreaking and timeless music, innovations, and design. We are the awestruck bystanders who witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime culmination of groove from the soul, harmonic complexity, and wicked tone wrapped up in a childlike grin. Edward Van Halen didn’t play the electric guitar like us: The guitar was filtered through him and his deft guidance. He made it look easy—we know it wasn’t. For many, he will always be the King. Long live the King!