Music

More thoughts on interpretation

Music

In a recent article, I used Albêniz’s Leyenda as an example of varying interpretations, from a performer’s and arranger’s perspective. I stated my belief that interpretation is one of the crucial elements of artistic performance, yet it remains one which is often overlooked in musical performance. It’s what makes a performance unique to you, rather than a carbon copy of notes on a page. I say this because sometimes meaning can be lost if we do not remain mindful of what we want a piece to convey.

Views on interpretation vary, not only in how it should be defined but also in who has the right to do the act of interpreting in the first place. There are no right answers – only opinions. There are mine, based on my experiences of a wide range of musical genres, all of which I have interacted with in many different ways; composer, arranger, performer, and most of all, listener.

Interpretation as an act of translation, rather than the inferring of meaning

Interpretation often comes in for criticism, but usually in the context of art being explained to an audience. Literary critic E. D. Hirsch stated that “the author’s intention must be the sole determiner of meaning” (The Aims of Interpretation,1976), though many would disagree. Artists and creatives such as Charlie Chaplin to Salvador Dali have made similar-sounding statements against the imposition of another’s interpretation onto an audience. In effect: art doesn’t require an explanation. Meaning can be interpreted by the recipient in their own way.

A Visual Interpretation of Mark di Suvero’s Mindseye, by Lauren Kordas (2017)

This is undoubtedly true, but what about the creator of the art? In terms of the composer, a sense of meaning will have been part of the original creation of any work of art. Even a piece purposely left open to the audience’s own interpretation is a deliberate choice on the part of the creator.

And what of the middle-men between creator and audience? In the case of music and performing arts, how can arrangers and performers interpret previously written works? Consider just how many modern films, etc, are modern versions of Shakespeare, classic Greek plays, etc, where the setting and characters has been changed. Often, it is brought up to the present time of the new adaptation, and usually re-scripted in language more accessible to the audience of these more recent times. Sometimes works are transposed to completely different media, such as tone poems based on paintings or poems.

A concert performer will often choose works of a similar theme for recitals. This act of curation demonstrates that someone other than the composer – be it the performer or program director – has imposed a new theme onto the chosen pieces which in all likelihood was not part of their original creation. Along these theme is the jukebox musical, an early example of this is Return to the Forbidden Planet, based on the 1956 sci-fi film Forbidden Planet, which in turn is based on Shakespeare’s final play, The Tempest. The score of songs sung by the cast (or used as incidental music) throughout the play is comprised entirely of rock’n’roll hits from the 1950s and 1960s, none of which were conceived or recorded with the story or themes of this musical (premiered in the 1980s) in mind – old works were chosen and presented in a new format to tell a new story.

A Visual Interpretation of Mark di Suvero’s Mindseye, by Allison Rice (2017)

Be sure to include your own voice, and your own meaning

For performers, interpretation is unavoidable. Many performers appear happy to perform pieces written and arranged by others, repeating their original vision and intent without adding anything to the process apart from the immediacy of live performance. In some cases, this may be the most appropriate course of action. However, I’d argue that the opposite is true far more often than you might think.

Sometimes the effects of presenting a piece through the lens of your own interpretation is barely noticeable. The results will be felt rather than consciously observed by audiences. In some cases, they have been known to have a longer lasting effect. In my article on Leyenda, I noted that the most widely accepted adaptation for guitar includes a series of sixteenth triplets near the beginning which are not present in the original piano score, but an invention of noted classical guitarist Andres Segovia. I have noted in an additional piece that such rhythmic variations used to be the norm in musical performance. The apparent convention in modern classical music concerts, which seems to impose limits on the range of individual creativity permitted by performers, is likely to have led to the neglect of artistic interpretation in more recent times.

In more immediate terms, the way you perform a piece will affect the way the audience hear it, and the kind of meaning they might derive from it. This doesn’t mean grand re-imaginings are required for every performance. Sometimes the simplest (and best) option is to be mindful of your intent in preparation for an upcoming performance, and during the performance itself, rather than focusing solely on technique – or achieving a faithful reproduction of note sequences.

Image credit: Jazzia / Folia.com (2013)

Put simply: be mindful about what you are playing, and how you are playing it

The composer’s views are important. So is understanding the context of the times in which the pieces were commissioned, written and first performed. These will affect your understanding of a piece. The same goes for your audience. But if we are to consider the context of time and place, it is essential that we include the most important factors which separates a performance from a recording (or past performance): the here and now.

In Music Therapy, both improvised music and pre-existing songs are used as a language to communicate feelings the client might struggle to adequately articulate verbally. However, when performing a well-known song, neither the client or therapist is primarily concerned with a faithful recreation of the original artist’s recording. Instead, we are using the musical language in the here and now of the therapeutic space to communicate new feelings, and new meanings. That is, and has always been, the intrinsic power of music.

Composition VIII – Wassily Kandinsky (1923)

Albêniz’s ‘Leyenda’- open to interpretation

Music

A few years ago, I was hired to perform (quite specifically) Spanish guitar music at a wedding service. Amongst other choices was Leyenda (meaning ‘legend’). Originally written by Spanish composer Isaac Albêniz (1860-1909) for piano, but transcribed for guitar within Albêniz’s lifetime, Leyenda is one of the more well-known pieces in the classical guitar repertoire.

Isaac Albêniz (1860-1909), looking rather stylish in a portrait, circa 1900

Typically, the opening section is played quite fast. Sometimes this makes it feel like an exercise in machismo by the performer, who may be working on the assumption that faster = more impressive to listen to.

However, the most famous transcription of this piece is by Andrés Segovia. Segovia is considered the Godfather of modern classical guitar, having mentored several well-known players in the generation that followed (including Australian guitarist John Williams and the UK’s own Julian Bream). Brazillian composer Heitor Villa-Lobos dedicated his Etudes for Classical Guitar (1929) to Segovia, whom he had kept in mind while composing them. Segovia had similar close working relationships with several other 20th Century composers, such as Federico Moreno Torroba, Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco and Joaquin Rodrigo, and his transcriptions of certain works originally written for other instruments have become the standard in how they should be performed on guitar.

Hear the great man himself performing Leyenda on this YouTube video. You may notice that Segovia’s interpretation is slower than you might hear on most other recorded versions of this piece.

I’ve had some pretty interesting discussions with guitarists in the last few weeks and months regarding artistic interpretation. In almost all of these chats, the focus has been on the interpretation of the performer. However, what we hadn’t considered is the interpretation of the arranger. When I say arranger, I mean one who transcribes music for other musicians to perform, rather than a player making interpretive changes solely for their own performance.

Andrés Segovia (L) & Stanley Yates (R), two masters of interpretive guitar arrangements

Composer & arranger Stanley Yates created a new arrangement of Leyenda, which is still available to download for free via this link to his website. This version differs more from Segovia’s than you might expect. The chief differences for me are the absence of sixteenth triplets in the opening section, which was Segovia’s invention (be honest, how many of you knew that?!) and a few differences to the interval of certain ‘grace notes’.

The source for Yates’ arrangement is the original published piano work. He argues that he has attempted to stay true to the original piece without being pressured by the subsequent traditions of this piece which have grown over the last century. It is worth checking Yates’ arrangement out in order to see these differences for yourself and experience a piece many classical guitarists thought they knew intimately in a rather different light.

Interpretation, whether it is that of an arranger or the in-the-moment feelings of the performer, is key to making music more than mere sounding out notes written down by someone else. It plays a large part in how an audience experiences the piece; even subtle changes to a performance can alter how the listener might feel in response. I’ve long been fascinated with interpretation as a subject, and note with a small degree of frustration that it remains a factor of performance that often goes overlooked, sometimes by guitarists who really should know better.

This brief examination of Leyenda is but one example from which we can learn the importance of interpretation. I believe that neglecting to give it the consideration it deserves might end up becoming something which hinders your growth as a musician. Make of that what you will.

Art is life’s dream interpretation

– Otto Rank (psychoanalyst & philosopher)

Sad day for the North East music scene as iconic instrument shop closes its doors for good

Music

Today has been a rather bleak day for musicians in the North East of England’s local scene, as the oldest and best known music shop in the region, J. G. Windows, closed its doors for the final time. Many musicians bought their musical instruments from there,including many famous musicians over the years.

In a statement from the shop, the representatives explained that the shop had been put up for sale in 2023, but a buyer could not be found, meaning they closed with immediate effect and the seventeen employees were all made redundant.

Many young players got their very first instruments there, using the store’s very generous hire purchase agreements. Unlike many other shops, they stocked more than guitars and ‘rock’ instruments. Their range of instruments catered for all, from pianos to every single section and instrument in an orchestra.

Just a small section inside J. G. Windows

As a youth, I used to love going in to look at the rows of shiny trombones or stringed instruments ranging from the enormous (to me) double basses down to the tiny viols. To be honest, I still did as an adult.

Similarly, their extensive sheet music collection meant you could find almost anything you were looking for, from Bach cantatas to arrangements of movie theme tunes for the French horn, and everything in between.

The sheet music department at J. G. Windows

I still own several guitar scores purchased from Windows over the years, often when asked to play a specific classical pieces over my years playing guitar for a living. More than once it saved my neck, especially in a time slightly before absolutely everything was available on the Internet.

Equally magical to the endless instruments awaiting visitors inside Windows is the gorgeous tiled arcade outside, and the stunning stone building in which the shop resided.

Central Arcade, seen from the outside (left) and its stunning central walkway (right)

Central Arcade is housed within a Grade II listed building, part of the wider area of gorgeous Edwardian architecture built by Richard Grainger between 1824 and 1841 (and after whom the area is known as Grainger Town). The gorgeous tiled shopping acrcade currently inside the building was created in 1906 by Joseph Oswald & son, after having had previous lives as a newsroom and a vaudeville theatre (which was destroyed by a fire in 1901).

This building has had many lives and will certainly continue. I just hope this beautiful interior remains available for the public to enjoy in one form or another. However, it will take some time to disentangle the memory of Windows music shop from this arcade for many residents and visitors.

Internal shots of Central Arcade, Newcastle

As for J. G. Windows, it looks like after almost 116 years, they simply couldn’t keep up with the competition of cheaper products, readily available online without a middleman to sell it. I’ve known several friends who worked there, and I always made a point of popping in when I was back in Newcastle, even if it was just to browse – but then, that’s certainly a factor in its demise.

Another win for capitalism, but a great loss to the region – and we’re all to blame for allowing it to happen.

It’s just a shame for all the children and young people learning an instrument for the first time. It was more than a music and musical instrument shop. It was a community, with a network of teachers (some of whom provided tuition onsite), repair experts, advice and shared love for the joy of making music. Their ‘band members wanted’ board was the first point of call for players looking to join or start a new band in Newcastle; another aspect of the local scene which has emigrated to an online space without any of us really noticing…

Farewell, J. G. Windows, and thank you for your many, many years of service.

R.I.P. Herbie Flowers, one of the best bass players you’ve never heard of – and what you can learn from his long career

Music

Top session bassist Herbie Flowers sadly passed away on the 5th of September, aged 86.

Although most people may not have heard of the British session musician, Flowers was well known within the music industry, having been performing and recording since the 1960s. After starting out playing tuba and double bass in the RAF in the 1950s, Flowers moved into session work and soon the bass guitar became his main instrument. Among his earliest recorded work was the band Blue Mink, who had hits with ‘Melting Pot’ and ‘Good Morning Freedom’.

Flowers soon began playing sessions for artists in the late sixties, working regularly for famous producers such as Mickie Most (The Animals, Herman’s Hermits, Donovan, Lulu, and many more), Tony Visconti (T. Rex, David Bowie, The Moody Blues, and countless others), and Shel Talmy (The Kinks, The Who, among others). His playing credits are almost too long to list. In fact, it’s estimated he’d played on at least 500 hit recordings by the end of the 1970s!

Here’s a few of the more well-known highlights…

Flowers played bass on Bowie’s eponymous second album, including his first hit, ‘Space Oddity’. He then returned to the studio with Bowie to record his Diamond Dogs album.

When working on Lou Reed’s Transformer album, Flowers created his most recognisable bassline, used on the song ‘Walk On The Wild Side’. This bassline is actually two basses a double bass with a fretless Fender Jazz playing the higher part. As well as creating a unique sound that’s harder to achieve when playing both lines on one guitar, it also allowed Flowers to collect additional royalties for playing additional instruments on the song!

In 1971, Flowers co-wrote the novelty song Grandad, sung by actor Clive Dunn. The song reached the number one spot on the UK charts the same year, where it stayed for three weeks.

Flowers played bass on Jeff Wayne’s famous masterpiece, his musical and spoken-word adaptation of War of the Worlds. He then toured with Wayne when he took his famous concept album on the road decades later.

Flowers also appeared on recordings for Elton John, David Essex, Olivia Newton John, Bryan Ferry, AL Kooper, Harry Nilsson, Cat Stevens as well as on solo albums by three of the Beatles; Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr.

His work on a crossover record Changes by Australian classical guitarist John Williams (which included Williams’ arrangement of ‘Good Morning Freedom’) created a connection which came to fruition in 1978, when Flowers and Williams teamed up with other session musicians to form the famous instrumental group Sky. This supergroup of sorts (although only Williams was recognisable to most of the general music-buying public) released several albums over five years and toured regularly, bringing their fusion of classical, jazz and pop music to a wide audience.

What can we learn from Herbie Flowers?

Unlike other famous session men, such as ‘The Wrecking Crew’ in the USA’s pop music scene, Flowers seems to have developed a good reputation as a reliable performer, making him the first-call for several producers and composers. Why was this?

Put simply, he was not only a good musician, but a reliable one. Studios are expensive places to waste time, so having a roster of musicians who can not only play to a high standard, but also turn up on time is essential to producers, arrangers, musical directors and band leaders. Musical skill and a good ear allow the best session players to grasp a new song quickly and do their best to make it sound as good as possible, but the real professionals are he ones who treat it like the job that it is.

Nowadays, studios and recordings work a little differently. The ones that do make use of session musicians on a regular basis are far more rare, and getting a gig in such a place can feel almost impossible. It’s worth remembering that this side if the industry is – and to an extent, always has been – something of a closed shop. However, opportunities still exist in live performance, which in my experience have led to recording opportunities that I would otherwise not been offered. To give yourself the best chance of being considered for such roles, ask yourself:

Do I have a reputation for turning up on time, setting up quickly, and having working equipment?

Am I recognised as a competent musician (not the flashiest) who can cope with most styles?

Am I considered easy to get along with?

Divas don’t get invited back to future sessions. Nor do musicians who show up with faulty gear. I’ve also known artists to get frustrated with the brilliant ‘hot new thing’, fresh from music school with a head full of jazz theory and the chops to back it up, citing their input as overplaying or lacking in any real soul. Be like Herbie Flowers and that select group of ‘top’ session players: turn up, don’t make trouble, and serve the song. It worked for him. It will work for you.

In both cases, a little hard work and luck is involved, but t’was ever thus. And Herbie Flowers seems to have made the best of the cards he was dealt.

RIP, Herbie (1938-2024).

Recent goings on and upcoming projects

Music

As the rain sets in here in the UK, for what looks like a prolonged period, it seems that summer is well and truly over.

The last few months have been pretty busy, so I thought I’d quickly let you in on what I’d been up to…

…aside from the usual, that is

My main working week is still taken up with the music therapy service I provide in a range of settings. Most of my therapy work is with children and young people, and one of the best things about my job is seeing how music helps to communicate feelings which, for some of my clients, can be hard to articulate with words. It makes the more difficult aspects about this work (such as the seemingly endless stream of reports) worthwhile.

Wedding season is coming to an end

In terms of live music, it is the covers bands that continue to make up majority of my professional output. However, I enjoyed playing more solo guitar gigs, performing at wedding services and receptions.

Credit: Imogenkate Photography (2023).

It’s nice to see this type of work coming back through into my diary again. After Covid, I feared that live classical guitar may have been an expense too far for couples planning their big day, but this summer has thankfully proven my fears to be unfounded. I’ve already got several dates in my diary for 2024 (if you are looking for a solo guitarist for your own big day please get in touch via my contact page).

Nick Gladdish is recording his next LP

In August, Nick called his usual crew into the studio to lay down baking tracks for his new album, he follow-up to 2021’s Last One Get The Lights. Although we all (Nick included) expected this record to feel like a companion piece to LOGTL, we soon discovered a slightly more rock-orientated edge to the arrangements. This may be a result of the tighter arrangements, as Nick told us he was consciously trying to keep the tunes on this record shorter than his usual fare. With John Timey back in the joint producer/drummer chair, and the brilliant Adam Cornell on bass guitar, this felt like one of the smoothest recording sessions I’ve ever been involved with.

NG Band in-studio.
Positive feedback?

The results so far are promising; ten pop-rock songs about love, loss, disillusionment and corruption. I certainly enjoyed writing and layering rhythm guitar tracks. There’s not many guitar solos this time around, but there is some interesting experimentation going on, from drowning out the end of one song in multi-tracked guitar feedback, to a bluesy ukulele solo on the opening track! Next come the overdubs, editing and mastering…

New original project finally ready to launch

Finally, despite various obstacles thrown at me, I am pleased to announce that I have a new original music project about to start performing live. Solcade began as an outlet for music I was writing which didn’t fit anywhere else – too jazzy, bluesy or indeed too varied for many of the ensembles I have been working with.

After recruiting a stable five-piece lineup, the project quickly became much more of a democratic process, and the music is all the better as a result. With each member having an equal credit in writing and arranging, everyone involved has been bringing their ‘A game’ and making some amazing contributions. If you’re a fan of psychedelic funk, Jazz, soul and rythym & blues, then watch this space for upcoming details about our forthcoming debut record (likely scheduled for completion & release in 2025).

We have some live shows coming up in the autumn, too. Follow us on Instagram to hear the latest updates.

But what have you been up to?

Let me know! Also, I’m planning on writing a Q&A article so if you have any guitar, composition, music therapy or psychotherapy-based questions, get in touch and I may well include it!

Happy birthday, Kenny Burrell

Music

July the 31st this year marks the 92nd birthday of Kenny Burrell, who, unlike many of the greats I feature in my Great Guitarists series, is still with us!

Such an occasion is enough of an excuse to revisit his classic cut from 1963, Midnight Blue (if an excuse is even needed)…

Those interested can read more about Kenny here.

Best wishes to Kenny and his family!

In praise of The Doors

Music

Loved by some, derided by others. You will have heard at least some of the music of The Doors.

Despite their short time together at their height, they left behind an impressive legacy. As with similar articles (such as my look at the wider impact of The Animals and The Bryds), I’ll try to keep it brief, focusing on the factors that I believe made The Doors unique and influential.

So, on the understanding that this is not a definitive history, let’s dive in…

A quick rise

The Doors were formed in Los Angeles in 1965 by vocalist Jim Morrison and keyboardist Ray Manzarek, initially under the name Rick & The Ravens with Manzarek’s brothers Rick and Jim. They soon changed their name to The Doors in honour of Aldous Huxley’s book The Doors of Perception, recording their first one demo along with drummer John Denmore. After brothers Ray and Jim left the group, the group, guitarist Robby Krieger joined the band and the classic lineup of The Doors was complete.

They very quickly became popular, despite having played few gigs. In the start of 1966, the band managed to secure a residency at The London Fog club on Sunset Strip by having all of their friends turn up to their initial trial gig and cheer loudly. This residency not only gave Morrison the chance to overcome his stage fright, but also provided an opportunity for the band to experiment with their songs, many of which appeared on their debut album the following year.

In May 1966, the group became the house band at the more prestigious Whiskey a Go-go club, supporting the visiting acts such as Van Morrison with his band Them. By August, The Doors had been signed to Elektra Records. They recorded their eponymous debut album the same month, released at the very start of 1967. Their follow up, Strange Days, was released in September of the same year. This started an impressive run which saw the band release one studio album every subsequent year, ending with LA Woman in April 1971.

(copyright Elektra Records)

A polarising frontman

Over the years, Morrison’s behaviour had become increasingly erratic and difficult for the ban to manage. He was already living in Paris by the time LA Woman was released, taking time out from the group to focus on his poetry. He was dead just three months later, likely of an accidental overdose on heroin (although no autopsy was performed to officially rule the cause of death).

I put out a poll on my social media pages to canvass for opinions on The Doors. It seemed that, by and large, those who said they didn’t like the group generally cited Morrison’s vocal delivery style lyrics, or his persona as the main reason. He seems to have become a love-him-or-hate-him figure in music history. For some, Morrison represented the epitome of a certain type of masculine sexuality. Several bedrooms have been adorned with posters featuring well-known pictures of Morrison, topless and brooding. which seemingly turned ob as many people as it turned off.

Furthermore, in passing away at such a young age, fans never had the opportunity to watch him grow old, or indeed display an change or sense of ongoing maturity in his work. What is left behind becomes immortalised, while Morrison himself became a legendary figure. His grave in Paris remains a popular tourist attraction for would-be Bohemians to congregate.

But what we’re the critics opinions of Morrison before he died? The music of The Doors left fans divided. Fiona Sturges claimed that “Lester Bangs was right when he described Morrison, the son of a US rear admiral, as ‘a drunken buffoon masquerading as a poet‘” (quoted in The Independent, 2012). Yet Bangs had the maturity in later years to recognise the legacy of Morrison on his peers:

Think about it. Without Jim Morrison no Patti, but what’s more or less no Iggy perhaps no Bryan Ferry in his least petit-bonbonned moments. Without Iggy, of course, no punk rock renaissance at all, which means obviously that Jim was the real father of all that noise

Lester Bangs, writing in Creem Magazine (1981)
Morrison, circa 1967 (pic credit: Joel Brodsky)

Similarly, the music was considered by some to be twee in places (with those fiddly organ lines) or even downright pretentious. Listening to their entire run of six albums highlights inconsistencies in style, but I’d argue that this was common for groups at the time. In a time of psychedelia and increasing experimentation in pop music, record executives seemed to have lost their sense of what would sell and what wouldn’t, and allowed some artists time – and often several albums – to find a formula that worked. The Doors were no exception to this, although I believe they stood out for a few reasons.

Grounded in the Blues, but not limited to them

Like many bands of the time, The Doors were rooted in the Blues as the bedrock of their sound. When he wanted to, Morrison could write lyrics that were reminiscent of blues men such as Muddy Waters or Howling Wolf,such as on Love Me Two Times or LA Woman, for two well-known examples.

Musically, many of the songs were grounded with blues-based riffs, common to other R&B acts of the time. It was the combination of electric blues with the more poetic elements to Morrison’s words, coupled with a sense of exploration and a willingness to add elements of jazz to their sound, which gave The Doors an edge over their contemporaries in the world of psychedelic rock.

No bass player?

No – not for their live performances, at least.

In the studio, Doors producer [name] felt that Manzarek’s left-hand organ bass notes didn’t cut through as well as the second of a plucked string, and a session bass player was called in. This started something of a tradition for the band, who had bass guitar on the vast majority of their recorded material while maintaining their bass-less quartet format onstage.

In most cases, the session bassists – including bit hitters such as Harvey Brooks (who had played on Dylan’s first electric album and subsequent live shows) and Jerry Scheff (who has played with everyone from The Everley Brothers to Elvis Presley’s Vegas band) – were given strict instructions on what to play. This often following the Blues-based riffs. Otherwise, they simply filled in the sonic space a little, leaving ample room for [keys] and [guitar] to take flight, often in surprisingly intricate ways (a full and fascinating read on the bass players working with The Doors can be found here).

Robby Krieger’s guitar style

The final element to be discussed is The Doors’ guitar player, Robby Krieger. Although the last member to join the band, his playing gave the group a certain ‘lift’, mixing various styles and moving beyond solely blues-based lead lines.

Before picking up the electric guitar, Krieger had studied flamenco, who requires a strong right hand picking technique. Elements of this can be heard throughout the band’s output, not only in overt references such as Spanish Caravan, but also in his jazz-rock solo on Light My Fire. Krieger also maintained the flamenco/classical tradition of playing fingerstyle, eschewing plectrums (is it that plectra?) for his entire career.

Krieger, circa 1965 (pic credit: Chris Walter)

As I sat down to research and write this article, I started to realise the extent to which Krieger had been an influence on my own lead guitar playing. However, I rarely cite him as an influence. This may due to our similarities in background; I too, was a classical guitar player long before I started on the electric guitar, and my first electric influences were blues players and the experimental artists of the nineteen-sixties.

It may also be that Krieger’s influence came indirectly, via the first ever tuition book I bought to help me learn lead guitar, Lead Guitar by Harvey Vinson (which is a whole thing in itself – expect an article all about it in the near future). Looking back through the example riffs in that book, most of them could easily have been lifted from Doors tunes. I even owned a cheap SG copy too, but that’s a story for another time…

Recommended listening

There’s something interesting to be found on all six of the band’s studio albums. It is worth giving them all a listen to see what jumps out for yourself. Having said that, I find that for me, their first two LPs The Doors and Strange Days (both 1967), as well as their final offering, LA Woman (1971), showcase the group at their finest.

As always, let me know what you think. I enjoy having discussions with readers who get in touch and would love to know your opinions on The Doors, Morrison’s legacy, Krieger’s technique and everything else. But for now, this is the end…

Happy New Year

Music

2022 has come to a close and I’ve had a stinking cold and been on the verge of losing my voice for the last few days. My final gig of the year was a New Year’s Eve show with Nick Gladdish, where I luckily don’t have to do much singing!

Next year brings more gigs of various kinds, on top of my ongoing Music Therapy work. I’m also looking forward to getting back into the studio to rehearse and record my old pal Nick’s next album at the start of 2023.

Speaking of studio time, next year will also see a couple of new projects from me, including a few releases of original instrumental material, both for solo guitar (under the working title Sketches) as well as some jazzier stuff with a small group of friends (still working out the details for that one). These pieces have been clogging up my drafts folder for ages, so I plan to record and release them before the end of 2023, meaning that I never have to think about them again!

I’ll keep you all updated via this blog. I’ll also try to keep up the musical articles, including more entries to the Great Guitarists series. In addition, keep an eye out for my round up of my favourite books read in 2022, coming sometime this month.

So enjoy the rest of your festive season, look after each other, and all the very best for the coming New Year. See you at a gig soon…

Tim x

In praise of The Byrds

Music

A group best known for their cover of Bob Dylan’s Mr Tambourine Man, but which created a ripple which ran further and deeper through popular music than you might realise. From famous alumni to mechanical innovations for country & western guitar music, here’s a small token of praise for folk rock pioneers, The Byrds.

Originally formed in early 1964 as The Jet Set, a trio of singer-guitar players Jim (later known as Roger) McGuinn, Gene Clark and David Crosby, they soon augmented their line-up with Chris Hillman (bass/mandolin/vocals) and Michael Clarke (drums, and apparently hired on the strength of his excellent Brian Jones style haircut). They set out to meld the influence of British Invasion bands, most notably The Beatles, with traditional folk music in what was a unique new sound at the time.

In particular, the Fab Four was the inspiration behind McGuinn playing the Rickenbacker 360 12-string guitars that played a large part in the sound of their early records. A lot of the ‘jangly’ guitar music you hear in later bands – particularly the indie acts of the 80s and Britpop bands of the 90s – owe as much of a debt to The Byrds as they do to The Beatles.

The Byrds live on the BBC (left) and an early photoshoot (right).

They played ‘electric folk’ before Dylan (sort of)

Their first single was a cover of Bob Dylan’s Mr Tambourine Man, which they recorded before Dylan’s original acoustic version was released as part of his album Bringing It All Back Home in March 1965. Interestingly, although this album marked the first time Dylan used a backing band and electrified instrumentation (on side one), his original version of Mr Tambourine Man is in his (at the time) traditional style of solo guitar and harmonica to accompany his vocals (as part of the all-acoustic side two). The Byrds’ version was finally released a month later, reaching number one on both the British and US charts.

This release was still a good two months prior to Dylan’s infamous appearance with a ‘rock’ band and playing electric guitars at the Newport Folk Festival in July 1965. Dylan was friendly with the group and had got up on stage to jam with them at the start of year, undoubtedly helping their reputation beyond the folk scene before they’d released any records. It seems clear to me that both acts were part of a change to folk music that was happening at the time, and it’s fair to say they had a degree of influence on each other. The Byrds certainly covered a lot of Dylan songs on their debut album (also named Mr Tambourine Man, released in June 1965).

They went beyond folk rock

By the end of 1965, The Byrds had already begun to include more psychedelic influence in their songs. Most notably, Eight Miles High features guitar playing by McGuinn which was intended to emulate the playing of John Coltrane’s Impressions album, particularly the opening track India, in which Coltrane was seeking to recreate the raga lines of Indian performers such as Ravi Shankar.

Within less than two years of their formation, their line-up had started to change. As well as the raga-styled influences, The Byrds sound incorporated jazz, psychedelia and an increasing amount of country & western influences. By the end of their time together as a band (circa 1973), The Byrds’ sound was more representative of early country rock than their original folk sound.

Impressive alumni

Many members of he Byrds went on to form well known groups. David Crosby was dismissed from the band in 1967, for a variety of reasons (clashing egos with is bandmates seemingly chief amongst them). The following year, he formed the supergroup Crosby, Stills & Nash with Graham Nash (from the British pop group The Hollies) and Steven Still (from Canadian band Buffalo Springfield). By their second album, they had been joined by Stills’ former bandmate Neil Young, prompting a name change/extension to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. Although their time together has been intermittent and varied, their earl albums produced highly popular hits, and their vocal harmonies have been highly influential on countless performers ever since.

Crosby, Stills Nash & Young performing live (top left); Gram Parsons (top right); Roger McGuinn, post-Byrds (main image).

Later members of the Byrds included Gram Parsons, another pioneer of country rock and Americana (and also notorious for the theft f his corpse and it’s unusual cremation after his untimely death in 1973). Members of The Byrds also went on (with Parsons) to form another influential country rock band, The Flying Burrito Brothers. Roger McGuinn continued as a solo performer, including collaborations with Dylan in the seventies, and has reformed The Byrds in various guises, largely for reunion tours) across the decades.

Two former members created a brand new guitar system

Clarence White, a highly respected bluegrass player and session guitarist, joined The Byrds in 1968. Also joining him was Gene Parsons (no relation to Gram), who ad previously performed with White in the country rock group Nashville West. Sometime between these two groups, White and Parsons discussed ways to simulate the sound of a pedal steel (which uses pedals to alter the pitches of some strings, similar to a harp) on the guitar. Parsons set out devising a system that would enable White to achieve what he was looking for.

Original patent design for the Parsons/White String Bender.

Parsons’ design involved adding a pulley system onto the strap button closest to the guitar’s neck, meaning that when the guitar is pulled downwards (away from the head of the player), a the pressure on the strap moved a lever which, in turn, raised one or more strings on the bridge of the guitar. As unwieldy as that sounds, the result was exactly what White was looking for, and Parsons later went into business selling these devises as retro-fits, usually onto Telecasters, like White’s original model. The design was originally licenced to Fender in the early seventies, and though they didn’t do anything with it originally they have since released their own special model of B-bender Telecaster guitars in recent decades. The B-bender guitar has become a poplar tool in country and country rock music, with guitarists such as Brad Paisley using them to amazing effect.

Here’s Parsons discussing his invention as part of a documentary on The Byrds:

I’d heard of the B-bender before, but it was only when reading an article about The Byrds a few months ago that I learned it was one of their drummers who invented it to help his bandmate out! It certainly demonstrates the lasting legacy of the band on modern country music.

This is in no way a definitive history of the band. There are numerous biographies out there that those interested in learning more about this group should seek out (an in all likelihood, probably already have). This brief overview (much like my previous article on The Animals) merely serves to show how some performers – of whom most people might only recognise less than a handful of songs – can influence the musicians you know and music you hear i ways you might not expect, and often without you realising it.

Can you think of any other bands that might have had a similar far-reaching effect as inventing a new kind of country guitar, or bringing Jimi Hendrix to wider recognition (see: The Animals)? Please let me know, as it may well end up in a future article! Since I have covered an A and a B band, perhaps new suggestions could follow on in this (unintentional) alphabetic format? Get in touch!

Creativity v Convention: What happened to improvisation in classical music?

Music

During lockdown, I wrote a piece featuring only a starting and ending theme, leaving the space in between entirely free for the performers (taking turns) to improvise. Players had complete freedom of expression in how they choose to navigate from one theme to the other. The notes they chose, how long they took, and style were entirely at the discretion of each performer.

I approached a few of my musician friends to test this conceptual piece out. When faced with no rules and no harmonic foundation on which they could improvise against, many of them struggled. I found this surprising, especially from performers I know to be excellent jazz improvisers.

However, my friends who are classical musicians failed the task entirely. Why?

Improvisation seems to have all but disappeared not just from the repertoire of classical music, but from the skill set of classical performers. Audiences attending classical concerts and recitals generally expect to hear faithful renditions of the pieces they know, and doubtless have in their music collections at home. Deviation from the score is seen as a failure, perhaps even an insult to the express will of the composer.

It wasn’t always this way. Many early pieces were based around a framework where improvisation would be expected, not just on the main theme (similar to a jazz ‘head’ followed by solos nowadays), but in the accompanymeny itself. The basso continuo parts in Baroque scores (usually played by the harpsichord) were loose fragments, using a special shorthand (known as figured bass) to highlight the expected harmony at certain points in the piece. It was up to the player to fill in the gaps. Similarly, soloists were given freedom of expression in their performance, often at the end of a piece in a completely improvised coda known as a cadanza:

It was the performer’s job to “finish” the composition for the audience (in the same way, today, that an interior decorator finishes the work of an architect and a builder)

Rhode Island Philharmonic, THE STORY BEHIND… (2021)
Composer & violin pioneer Antonio Vivaldi was renowned (and even feared by his peers) for the virtuosity of his improvised cadenzas (picture credit: Eboracum Baroque)

Nowadays, there is almost no improvisation to be heard at a classical concert or recital. Sticking strictly to the notes on the page has become convention.

Did the beginning of the end start with Beethoven? His fifth and final piano concerto, the so-called ‘Emporer Concerto’, features a unique instruction at the end of the first movement: “Do not make a cadenza, but immediately proceed to the following” (usually marked on the score as Non si fa una cadenza, ma s’attacca subito il seguente).

At this time in his life, Beethoven once one of the most celebrated piano improviser of his time, if it the best among his contemporaries, was now struggling with his hearing to the extent that he was no longer able to improvise when playing alongside an orchestra.

A wonderfully striking 3D interpretation of Beethoven’s portrait, circa 1812 (picture credit: Hadi Karimi)

Some believe that he decided to formally write a cadenza to be played as written, which was very rare for the time, almost out of a sense of spite; frustration at not being able to improvise the way he wanted to led to the instruction specifying that no other performer could either.

At the same time, pieces were becomg more elaborate, orchestras were increasing in size and composers were becoming more experimental and imaginative. This left little room for the spontanetny of one individual’s instantaneous composing. Similarly the widening of audiences themselves to include more of the emerging middles classes led to an increased formalisation of concert going etiquette, much like the ever-expanding rules of dining (which fork to use, passing the port from the left). Invented rules designed to separate the ‘old money’ from the ‘neveau riche’ soon became simply the way things are done. Instruction because convention. Convention became tradition.

So how do we come back from this? There are those who argue that without the skill of improvisation, you’re not a complete musician.

When we repeat music we have learned by rote, are we repeating memorised phrases in a foreign language in which we are unable to actually converse? Music is, after all, the oldest language. We don’t exchange information and ideas solely through the quotation of famous speeches (at least, not most of the time), so why does this still such a strong convention in western classical music performance?

That’s just how things are done around here.

There is something stultifying about a tradition where millions of pianists are all playing the same 100 compositions… everyone has to play a Bach prelude and fugue, a Beethoven sonata, a Chopin nocturne, and we’ll do that until the end of the world, something in our soul dies

John Mortensen, quoted in The Guardian (2020)

But it doesn’t necessarily have to be this way.

Real art is about breaking the rules and going against convention. Perhaps it is time classical performers took back their right to own their own performance and interpretation. Audiences won’t mind (according to this relatively recent research). Beethoven and the Old Masters won’t mind. They’re dead, but their music doesn’t have to be…