Hello Troubadourians! When I was learning to play the guitar, the music I listened to was either instrumental guitar music such as Chet Atkins and Barney Kessel or it was rock/pop/country/blues songs that featured the guitar. In either case, there were guitar solos in abundance. Naturally, I was drawn to the solos as it was a featured voice as much as the singer singing the lyrics. Among instrumentalists—but particularly among guitarists—the solo is your voice, your signature, and how you communicate with a listener without using words. Your prowess, or lack thereof in some cases, is what you spend a lot of time on. I know I certainly spent countless hours trying to master this lick or that riff, entire solos, and getting that sound. Eventually, I reached the point where I wasn’t satisfied copying other players. I wanted my style and my sound to be what I was known for. As I’ve mentioned before in several previous columns, I’ve broken down and rebuilt my style several times over the years. Sometimes it was because of having to adjust to playing a different genre of music or wanting to add new features to my playing, but mostly it was because I was completely bored with listening to myself. I think I’ve been successful with that effort—for the most part. Case in point: Once during a recording session for my friend Sven-Erik Seaholm, I was hesitant to attempt a solo on a song in a genre that isn’t usually my forte. Sven said to me, “You’re Charlie Fucking Loach, the daywalker! You can play anything!”
Burnout with your own playing happens to all of us. Whether it is frustration with not being able to play something the way you want to, or like me, you’re tired of hearing yourself play the same things over and over. Through the years I chosen a few different paths to change my playing, and the reasoning was different each time.
The first major change—or changes—to my playing was to learn new techniques for my picking hand. Like a lot of beginners, I started by using a flat pick to strum chords and pick out melodic lines. That prompted subtle and incremental changes, such as switching from a thin pick to a medium and eventually to a heavy pick. I learned how to control the pick and get different tones from the angle of the pick across the strings and how tightly or loosely I held it. That’s where it stopped for a while… During this beginner stage is also where I became so enamored with Chet Atkins that I taught myself finger picking, first using a thumbpick and three fingers (because I didn’t know better), then thumbpick and two fingers to get actual Chet-style licks and to do banjo rolls, then just bare thumb and fingers à la Jim Messina and Mark Knopfler. There’s a lot you can do with just fingers… The next step was to blend both techniques into what is known as hybrid picking where you hold the flat pick between your thumb and first finger as usual, then incorporate your second and third fingers so that you can fingerpick and still have the flexibility of the flat pick for strumming and other picking styles. The final evolution was to rotate the flat pick to where I was striking the strings with the rounded corner instead of the point. I started doing this because I read that Robben Ford held his pick that way. (An aside: I recently watched a YouTube video that listed a few dozen top tier guitarists that hold their pick that way. I feel like I’m in good company).
Now, I began this column talking about soloing so let’s get back to that topic. As I said, frustration and boredom most often drive changes to our soloing. We all want to be considered as excellent soloists—at least I do—so we work on our lead playing all the time. We practice scales, modes, and all the things that guitar magazines have in their Lessons pages. We noodle whenever we have a guitar in our hands and, still, we can feel that we aren’t getting anywhere. I’ve been there a lot, and I’ve come up with some solutions that work for me.
First, think melodically. While melodies are based on scales—or modes—they aren’t melodic in and of themselves. The best place to start educating yourself to think and play melodically is to choose a song and learn to play the vocal melody. Try to sing the lyrics through your guitar. Emulate, as best as you can, the nuance that the singer brings to their vocal. The emphasis on certain lyrics and notes and the phrasing of the vocal will inform your soloing style.
A second technique is to draw an alternate melody from the chord structure. There are usually two or more different melodies that are implied by, or can be derived from, the chords of a song. This technique can lead you to single note lines, double stops, or a combination of both. And while you’re there, don’t overlook the rhythmic aspect of the song either. Rhythm is essential to your phrasing. Make it sound natural. Let it breathe. I use this blend of components of the song for many of my solos.
Third, if you’re feeling bold enough, simply improvise a solo. Some songs lend themselves to this better than others. Simple, repetitive, one or two chord vamps, are excellent platforms for improvisation. You’ll need to have your chops up to make this approach work, otherwise it sounds like you’re wanking and nobody likes that. Not you, not the audience, and certainly not your bandmates. Of course, you can improvise over more complex chord changes, too. Depending on the chords, they can lead you to some really cool, beautiful, or outside lines which, when well executed, can be a lot of fun to play and to listen to.
Finally, you can combine all the above approaches in varying amounts for almost any song. Some genres, such as Western Swing, are built on characteristic chord forms such as 6ths, dominant 7ths, 9ths, and 13ths. These extended chords can provide a jumping-off point for some interesting solo excursions, and the chords themselves have cool double stop licks built right in. Yay!
So, let’s tie this all together… The goal is to play a solo that serves the song, moves the listener, and, hopefully, is fun to play. Everything starts as an improvisation and can evolve into a scripted solo, one that you play the same way—or nearly so—every time. If it’s good and at a high level musically—and you are capable of playing it every time—this is what’s known as a keeper. An example of this is Don Felder’s solo on “One of These Nights.” This is a brilliantly thought-out and executed solo, and Felder nails it every time. I do this as often as I can because it’s going to work even if my playing isn’t on for some reason. The downside is you can get bored and start messing with it. One word: don’t. If it works, keep playing it. Think of how many times Don Felder has played the “One of These Nights” solo, and yet every time he plays it, he makes it sound like you’re hearing it for the first time. That is brilliance incarnate.
The takeaway: Whenever you’re playing a scripted solo that meets all the criteria above and you start thinking, “I’ve played this before…” just remember that somebody listening is hearing it for the first time, so play it that way.
Need to know? Just ask… Charlie (ask.charlie@hotmail.com)