Why you might be your own most important DIY project.
This is our annual DIY issue, where we share a few interesting projects—this time, a guitar mod that's a lesson in the proper way to use a router and six pedal-kit builds—that can be done fairly easily, in one day. The idea is to showcase attainable work that builds basic skills needed for more complex projects.
But for those of us with creative ambitions, the most important DIY project is far more complex than a pedal build, a pickup swap, or even homebuilding a guitar. I’ve always believed that the mark of an artist is having a unique character that comes through in their work. There are plenty of examples: Joni Mitchell, James Hetfield, David Gilmour, Polly Jean Harvey, Jimi Hendrix, Ava Mendoza, Anthony Pirog, Hank Williams, Howlin’ Wolf, Yvette Young, Coltrane, Miles, Billy Gibbons, Mike Watt, Brent Mason, and many, many more. What they all have in common is that it takes just a few notes or a vocal line or two to recognize them. Some might only be known in your town, but that doesn't make their work any less viable or important—especially if it’s important to you.
My favorite example, and also my favorite living songwriter, is Tom Waits. Whether you hear Tom crooning in his early post-Tin Pan Alley phase on a song like 1973’s “Ol’ 55” or whooping and cawing through 1987’s “Temptation,” accompanied by Marc Ribot’s gnawing guitar solo, or raving through 2011’s “Bad As Me,” recorded well after his conversion to avant troubadour … it all sounds like Tom Waits. And not just in the vocals and arrangements—although those are unmistakable. There is a rock-bottom sentimentality to much of his writing, which is consistently literate and poetic, and he has a way of drawing on roots-music sources in unlikely, sometimes outright weird contexts. He’s also a capable actor, but anyone who has seen Tom onstage, even before his first major theatrical role, in 1986’s Down by Law, knows that. I understand that everybody isn’t as fond of Tom’s work as I am, but that doesn’t matter. What does is that he is always recognizably himself—that he has a unique artistic character.
“What matters is knowing your own creative truth and embracing it.”
So, the point is, how do we follow in the footsteps of all the above to discover who we are artistically and bring that to play in our own work, in a way that conveys our distinctive creative character to anyone who hears our music? And once we do that, how do we keep growing while staying true to ourselves? There’s no pat answer, so it’s not as easy as soldering or even learning to blaze on scales for Instagram. And developing a unique artistic character is not important to everyone. There’s a lot to be said for just playing guitar and performing covers and having a whale of a time. But for those of us making original albums, trying to establish a sound or style that is authentically our own, trying to expand the envelope of genre, or do whatever the heck it is that lets us be us … well, it’s a lifelong DIY project.
The tools can’t be ordered online. They’re imagination, inspiration, honest evaluation, and the proverbial 10,000 hours. Along the way, decisions need to be made—about the playing approach and gear you might need to create a sound of your own, about really workshopping your songwriting and composing to get to a place where you hear that what you’re creating is authentically yours and not a diluted version of one of your heroes, about deciding exactly what you want your music to do. (A good way to arrive at the latter is working out an elevator pitch that explains your music to a stranger in as few words as possible. Decoding it for them also decodes it for you.)
It doesn’t matter how others judge your work. What matters is knowing your own creative truth and embracing it. Besides, it’s not always, or even often, easy to get others to embrace your vision, but that doesn't matter, as long as it’s your vision—and you know it, deep in your heart and brain.
Sure, gear is great and important, and I could talk about it all day. (Just ask my wife, Laurie, who has done her best to stay awake during many of my obsessive conversations with gearhead friends.) And learning how to mod it or make it so it best serves you is important. But if you have a creative vision, what’s most important is pursuing that vision, nurturing it, and truly owning it—until you and that vision are wholly the same thing.
For this month’s question, picker JJ Appleton, Premier Guitar staff, and reader Gil Chiasson explore their personal bond with their favorite musical genre.
Question: What connects you to your favorite genre of music?
Guest Picker JJ Appleton
Blues legend John Hammond Jr.
Photo by Louis Ramirez
A: What I love about the blues is its deceptive simplicity, the immediacy of emotion, and the story/truth-telling. When they say, “Blues is a feeling,” it’s clear when two different people play the same three chords or the same lick. If you’re really doing it, your personality should be laid bare with every note you play and sing.
Professor Longhair, musical king of the Mardi Gras
Current obsession: Professor Longhair. I love his humorous bursts of deeply inventive rhythms. His use of extreme dynamics in one bar of music. His beautiful voice. His piano is the orchestra and there is a lot of musicality going on there. Professor Longhair has set the standard for me to try to become an “orchestrator” on the guitar and to find my own unique voice and style.
Ted Drozdowski Editorial Director
A: I’m connected to cosmic roots music via decades of exploring the nooks and crannies of the American South and its deep creative fringes. It’s defined roughly by Son House and John Lee Hooker to Pink Floyd, Sonny Sharrock, and Tom Waits—anything with an “otherness” that’s soulful and authentic. It helps keep me alive.
One of Ted’s inspirations, the late free-jazz guitarist Sonny Sharrock.
Current obsession: The dang movie I’ve been working on with my band Coyote Motel for about two years. After 300 hours of editing, I can see completion. And it does have “otherness.”
Coyote Motel in thier upcoming film.
Luke Ottenhof Assistant Editor
A: I was raised on folk and classic rock, but when I was 10 years old, I got Billy Talent on CD, and covertly copied my friend’s CD of Sum 41’s Does This Look Infected? onto a cassette (I wasn’t allowed to buy it because it had a parental advisory sticker). The early 2000s were a golden era of pop-punk in Canada, and while that genre post-2006 doesn’t really rev my engine anymore, those two releases set me on a path of obsession with heavy, riffy music paired with great hooks and bright vocal harmonies.
Current obsession: I’ve gotten back into soldering after taking apart my crappy Vox Cambridge 15 to finally fix it up. I was planning to just sell it for cheap to someone who wanted to repair it, but all it needed was a new gain pot, and the fix cost me $1.50 plus an hour of labor.
Luke’s Vox, redeemed by a $1.50 part and an hour’s repair time.
Gil Chiasson Reader of the Month
A: When I think of “Surfer Girl” by the Beach Boys, for instance, it is the sum total of all its parts which makes it so amazing in how it captures the context of the song. It’s about a surfer girl, a cool breeze, water spray, and hot summer sun!
The Beach Boys, when they were crafting the California dream.
Current obsession: I am currently writing music inspired by Thelonious Monk. He had these soulful chord progressions with interesting types of time signatures. His pockets, or, grooves, were full of that gold we all love to hear and feel.
Thelonious Monk had the keys—perhaps even to the universe.
Plus, what the shred shaman looks for in a guitar, and the surprising solo artist whose catalog he always has on hand.