Kevin Gordon and his beloved ES-125, in earlier days.
Looking for new fuel for your sound and songs? Nashville’s Kevin Gordon found both in exploring traditional blues tunings and their variations.
I first heard open guitar tunings while in college, from older players who’d become friends or mentors, and from various artists playing at the Delta Blues Festival in the early mid-’80s, which was held in a fallow field in Freedom Village, Mississippi—whose topographical limits likely did not extend beyond said field.
I remember Jessie Mae Hemphill wearing a full-length leopard-print coat and black cowboy hat in the September heat, walking through the crowd selling 45s, and James “Son” Thomas singing his bawdy version of “Catfish Blues.” Also, an assembly of older gentlemen passing a pint bottle, all wearing vests with the name of their fraternal society sewn on the back: Dead Peckers Club.
I played in master minimalist Bo Ramsey’s band from 1988 to ’90. Living in Iowa City, attending grad school for poetry, weekend gigs with Bo were another equally important kind of education. He was the first guy I played in a band with who used open tunings. Nothing exotic: open G or open E, early Muddy Waters and Elmore James. Music I had loved since growing up in Louisiana. This was our bond, the music we both considered bedrock. Some of my first songs, written for that band, featured Bo on slide guitar.
I moved to Nashville in 1992, a city already populated with a few friends—some from Iowa, some from Louisiana. Buddy Flett was from Shreveport; I’d loved his playing since seeing him in the band A-Train in the early ’80s. We’d go eat catfish at Wendell Smith’s, and inevitably talk about songs. He’d achieved some success as a writer, working with fellow north Louisianan David Egan, employing his own kind of sleight-of-hand mystery in both G and D tunings.
In 1993, I found a guitar that would change my life and my songwriting: a scrappy Gibson ES-125 from 1956, standing in a corner of a friend’s apartment in Nashville, covered in dust. I asked if I could borrow it, for no particular reason other than to get it out of there so that it would be played. I wrote a song on it, in double drop-D tuning [D–A–D–G–B–D]. Not a great song, but it got me thinking about open strings and tunings again. I was looking for a way to play solo shows that reflected where I came from, and where the songs came from that I was writing.“The droning aspect of open tunings always appealed to me, and in the context of solo gigs, the big sound of octaves ringing out helped this insecure guitar player sound a little taller, wider . . . something.”
So, I put the guitar in open D [D–A–D–F#–A–D], put flatwounds on it, and started figuring out chord shapes (other than barring flat across) that I could use to play my songs, all of which at that point had been written and performed in standard tuning. I’d bought a ’64 Fender Princeton amp years before, when I was 19, but had never found a use for it until now: The 125 through the Princeton on about four was the sound. The droning aspect of open tunings always appealed to me, and in the context of solo gigs, the big sound of octaves ringing out helped this insecure guitar player sound a little taller, wider . . . something. The fingerings I came up with all seemed to mask the third of the scale—so you’d have a big sound which was neither major nor minor. And for my songs, it just felt right. By the time I recorded my second album for Shanachie, Down to the Well, in 1999, I was writing songs in open D (“Pueblo Dog”). For the next two albums, released in 2005 and 2012, the majority of the songs were written and performed live in open D, employing a capo when necessary.
As usual, the methods and habits developed while touring fed back into the writing and recording processes. For my latest release, The In Between, though, most of the songs were written and recorded in standard—“Simple Things,” “Tammy Cecile,” “Coming Up”—with some exceptions, including “Keeping My Brother Down,” “You Can’t Hurt Me No More,” and the title track, on which I play a ’50s Gibson electric tenor archtop in a peculiar tuning: C–G–C–G. Though I can’t say that open tunings make for better songs, they do help me hear chords differently, at times suggesting progressions that I wouldn’t normally think of. One song currently in-progress has these verse changes: VIm / I / VIm / I / VIm / I / II / II. In standard tuning, that VI would sound (to my ear) too bright. But because I’m writing it in open D, how I fret the VI sounds low and dark, appropriate for the lyric and melody, creating the right setting for the lines and story to unfold.
Although this singular stylist is based in country blues, his music reaches for the cosmos! Check out his dazzling array of pedals and rhythm boxes, and the classic instruments he uses to make trailblazing sounds live and on his new album, The Fatalist.
Buffalo Nichols believes in the power of acoustic country blues. He also believes it’s not a fossil, trapped in amber, but a living, breathing musical genre. Which is why he blends elements of the tradition—slide guitar, resonator, open tunings, themes of loss, redemption, and struggle—with loops, samples, drum machines, myriad effects, and modern-day narratives. His new album, The Fatalist, is the culmination of his art to date. Listening to its echoes of Skip James, John Hurt, Pink Floyd, and Dr. Dre is an even stranger experience when you know Nichols started his career in the thundering, downstroke-chiseled trenches of the Midwest metal scene.
When you watch this Rig Rundown, Nichols will explain, and play, it all—it's a fascinating story. And the gear! Get ready for a feast, full of the trad and the rad.
Brought to you by D'Addario: https://ddar.io/wykyk-rr
and D'Addario XS Strings: https://ddar.io/xs-rr
Adirondack Rose
Those two woods dominate this Recording King RO-328, with its solid Adirondack spruce top, solid rosewood back and sides, rosewood fretboard, and herringbone purfling in classic rosette. In fact, this guitar would not look out of place in a photo from the early ’50s, and the brand itself has been available since the ’30s. Nichols keeps this 6-string tuned to open C# minor, a Skip James tuning, with a Seymour Duncan Mac Mic pickup. His preferred sting gauge is .016 to .056.
Sweet 'n' Elite
Nichols’ parlor guitar is a Recording King Tonewood Reserve Elite Single 0, with a spruce top, rosewood back and sides, a mahogany neck, and an ebony fretboard. Note the inlays and distinctive binding. It also has the Duncan pickup system. Nichols keeps this guitar tuned in standard with a medium string set (.013s).
Steel and Gold
This Gold Tone GRS Paul Beard metal-body Resonator puts a brushed aluminum cone and biscuits inside an all-steel body with a 19-fret maple neck. With a stock lipstick pickup, Nichols uses it as one of his essential electrics. He prefers it to the more traditional thick resonator body, for ease of performance and weight relief.
Get Behind the Mule
Nichols’ tunings include C#m, open F, and standard, tuned down a half-step. This guitar is a Mavis model, by Mule Resophonic Guitars—an open tuning classic. Dig that pickguard and the warm patina on the body. “It’s taken on a life of its own,” says Nichols. “Some people will show up at my gigs just to look at it.” The mini humbucker sounds sweet, with its basic volume control. The neck isn't too thick or too thin. "Kind of in the middle,” Nichols says. And it mostly gets played clean, or with a nice flavoring of delay.
Banjo
The banjo is one of the oldest African-American instruments, and this one is a Recording King, with a scooped fretboard and two pickups (a K&K and a Fishman) that he sometimes uses to split the signal. Without a resonating back, Nichols notes that it caters more to old-school music, with its bright, ringing tone.
Travelin' Amp
These days Nichols’ road amp of choice is a Fender Tone Master Super Reverb. He likes the compression he gets from its four 10" speakers, as well as its back-saving weight. He also points out that he uses so many effects that his guitars sound the same regardless of his amp choices.
The Board's Big Brain
Nichols jokingly describes his pedalboard as "very confusing,” but, running through his chain, he starts at a TC Electronic PolyTune to an Origin Effects Cali76 compressor—"and after that’s where it gets pretty weird.” But also onboard, for drive, are a Wampler Tumnus and Belle, and a Fuzzlord Octave Master (“for my Jimi Hendrix kind of tones”). To control various effects and chains, there’s a Boss GT-1000 Core. Those are involved in the guitar-to-amp signal, versus the acoustic.
But the “weird stuff,” as he puts it, starts with an Old Blood Noise Endeavors Signal Blender for switching between the acoustic, banjo, or amp. While the Fuzzlord can color everything, a cluster of his boxes are used to conjure pads and other ethereal sounds. These include the EHX Superego, a Fishman Aura, a Hologram Electronics Microcosm Granular Looper and Glitch Pedal (he calls it his red herring), an EHX Mel9 Tape Replay Machine, a TC Electronic Death Rax3, and a lot more. Listen while Nichols displays his entire array of delays in the Rundown. There’s an SPD-ONE Kick for stomping, and drum machines—an Akai Professional MPC Live II and an Elektron Analog Rytm MKII—too!
Shop Buffalo Nichols' Rig
Recording King RO-328
Recording King Tonewood Reserve Elite Single 0
Recording King RK-R20 Banjo
Fender Tone Master Super Reverb
TC Electronic PolyTune
Origin Effects Cali76 Compressor
Wampler Tumnus
Wampler Belle
Boss GT-1000 Core
EHX Superego
Fishman Aura
EHX Mel9 Tape Replay Machine
SPD-ONE Kick
Akai Professional MPC Live II
Elektron Analog Rytm MKII
A top-shelf dread’ built for dueling with a D-28 offers appealing tone alternatives.
Balanced voice. Cool interplay between low and low-mid registers. Nice attention to detail.
Loud but lacks a little push in bass frequencies. “Vintage gloss” finish looks more satin than gloss.
$2,799.
Guild D-50 Standard
guildguitars.com
Selling a USA-built rosewood-and-spruce in the vicinity of $3K is cruel, nasty business. Gibson and Taylor both make enticing, attractive options in the form of the Hummingbird Studio Rosewood, Songwriter Standard, and Grand Pacific models. And anyone who dares get tangled in this cage match must face off with the most legendary rosewood-and-spruce dreadnought of all, the Martin D-28. Guild has always had a seat at this table thanks to the D-50 and D-55. Both models moved in and out of the lineup as Guild changed hands over the last few decades. Now, with Cordoba at the controls, the D-50 Standard is back in the fold.
With few exceptions, Guild D-50s and fancier D-55s have always sounded and felt distinctive to me. Like any guitar, they can vary from specimen to specimen. But the best ones have left me with vivid memories: piano-like volume, balanced and booming bass, dry, focused, harp-like midrange, and, paradoxically, guitars built tough as Victorian mansions that ring like bells. Many of these virtues are present in the new D-50. And though they don’t always show up in knock-you-over-the-noggin fashion, there is a balance and cohesion in the D-50’s tone profile that is appealing. It certainly feels like a foundation for a satisfying, long-term relationship, and offers real tone alternatives to the canonical sound of a D-28.
Utility Deluxe
I’m guessing a fair number of readers stopped dead at the sight of the D-50 photo here, because burst finishes on a big dreadnought body are super beautiful. The D-50’s prevailingly dark and amber burst is very J-45-like, which is a pretty great look to emulate. But while I’m probably in the minority, I would have loved to see the guitar in the orange-y burst I associate with Guild tops from the ’50s and ’60s,. (You can also buy the D-50 Standard with a natural finish.) Guild calls the finish used on the D-50 Standard “vintage gloss—a nitro finish which suggests gloss that’s been worn down after decades of use. To me, it looks and feels more satin than gloss, but it has a pleasing, warm glow. D-50 Standards from as recently as Guild’s New Hartford years did have a gloss finish, and you now need to leap to the fancier, more-expensive D-55 if you want gloss on a USA-built Guild dread’. That might be a bummer for some folks, but it makes the new D-50 Standards more competitively priced in a tricky market.
”The way the bassiest fundamentals and overtones intertwine with those in the low midrange gives the slighter frequencies more room to breathe.“
At the detail-level, the D-50’s construction quality rivals that of Taylor and Martin, which both tend to make near-flawless if not on-the-mark perfect instruments. The neck shape, which Guild calls a C profile, feels a little squarer at the shoulders than the D-28 I’m most intimately acquainted with, and a bit thicker than the J-45 I’m accustomed to playing, but it’s still highly playable and many guitarists will prefer the more substantial feel. It bears mentioning, too, that this D-50 Standard feels pretty light for a dreadnought. Compared to some of Guild’s hefty early ’70s D-50s, this new Standard is as light as a snowflake.
Shout and Shimmer
If you measure your dread’s worth in boom alone, the new D-50 Standard might come up short against some dreadnought standard bearers. But if the new Standard lacks a little something in pure volume and bottom-end mass, it also can sound balanced and piano-like. The way the bassiest fundamentals and overtones intertwine with those in the low midrange gives the slighter frequencies more room to breathe. This sweet interrelationship between low end and adjacent midrange spectra gives a lot of undulating overtone warmth and life to big chords in open tunings (particularly when ever-so-slightly out-of-tune strings throb against each other). It also makes the D-50 sound and feel like a killer rootsy, rock ‘n’ roll strumming machine. In the audio clip that accompanies this review, I recorded a simple, flatpicked, Stones-y sort of rhythm part, captured with a humble SM57, that I then mixed against a loud, bratty Telecaster. There’s a million ways to mix these two instruments together. But I loved the way I could push the Guild’s voice into bossy but articulate zones and emphasize it with a little preamp push and tape-style compression. Some big flattops will turn to mush in these mix images. Not so the D-50, which manages to sparkle and swing with muscle. If you play in a rootsy or garage-y rock ensemble or just love the way Keith Richards’ dreadnoughts sound on Beggars Banquet and Let It Bleed, the D-50 could be a star. And while it may sound soft compared to some dreads, it is by no means timid. The D-50 Standard is responsive to a light touch as well, thanks in part, perhaps, to the scalloped top bracing and the very vocal way you can move between loud and soft. Feathered strumming also highlights the D-50’s excellent dynamic range.
The Verdict
Guild’s newest version of the stalwart D-50 Standard carves out a unique sonic space for a dread’. The low end is restrained, but meshes beautifully with the guitar’s rich, lively midrange. While it doesn’t pack the dynamite of some dreadnoughts, like the D-28, its slightly softer but still substantial voice is even, easy to record, and makes the D-50 a fantastic rhythm machine among other things. That combination could be a winning one for the right player—even in a field of top-flight title contenders.