Nashville Guitar Guru | Guitar Lessons in Nashville, TN
Dave Isaacs, Nashville guitar guru and master teacher
The Perpetual Beginner’s Guide To Practicing is a free e-book about the process of practicing: how to structure your time, choose what to work on, and maximize both your enjoyment and your progress.
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If there’s a single lesson that might have the most impact on your guitar playing, it’s that you should never stop looking for new options.
When we first start playing, nearly everyone learns the basic open chords. This is foundation stuff, and important to any style of music. But a significant percentage of people stop there. If your goal is to play songs you like, that basic vocabulary can be enough for you to be functional. But the limitations soon become clear.
If your goals include playing lead and melody, you’ve probably learned some scales. If you’re diligent, you might have learned multiple scales in different places around the neck. But even skilled players begin to repeat themselves, and can eventually start to feel like things are getting stale.
If you find yourself stagnant and stuck, it’s almost certainly because you stopped looking for options.
Think about that basic open chord vocabulary. How many different ways can you play a D chord? That familiar triangle shape is often the right thing to play, but have you tried others? Even within the same song, some variation can make things more interesting. You can also find new possibilities for melody and signature guitar parts by expressing the same chord different ways.
We could say the same for scales. Even playing the same melody in a different location or with a different fingering can change the sonic effect. When improvising, simply landing somewhere new will have an impact on your note choices.
Let’s go a step further. What about alternate tunings? Some players invent their own, while others fall in love with the sound of a particular tuning. Some people pick up another guitar or even a different instrument when they need inspiration. But you don’t have to go that far to shake things up a little.
Since guitar playing is based on learned movements, it’s easy to rely on muscle memory. Since music is based on patterns, it’s easy to fall into using the same ones automatically. It’s easy to favor the familiar, and sometimes that’s the right thing.
That’s not to say you should analyze everything you play. Your first intuition will often be the right one once you’re tuned in enough to connect to it. But if you get into the habit of challenging your musical decisions, you will always reach further and keep stretching your both your vocabulary and your skills. This keeps your playing fresh, engaged, and dynamic. Most of all, it gives you a path out of the ruts we all fall into from time to time.
I believe I developed a personal style as a player in spite of my education. This might sound like a flip statement, but it’s taken many years to understand. I’m grateful to have had the training I did, but I didn’t fully understand how working to become a professional could also slow the process of becoming an artist.
From young fan imitating my heroes, to music student, to working player just trying to be prepared for the next gig, a good portion of my musical life has centered on imitating and reproducing familiar sounds. You could probably say the same for most people who play, especially those with formal training. After all, that formal education is meant to build the basic skills you need to play any style of music. You can choose to focus on a particular genre or specialty, but a professional player doesn’t always know what the next gig will be and therefore needs to be able to function in a variety of musical settings.
I used to embrace this philosophy fully, both as a player and a teacher. It’s like the “liberal arts” model of music: regardless of where you land professionally, a well-rounded education is the best preparation. This is certainly true of the freelancer and pro side player, and as a gigging musician that background kept me working. Rock, blues, jazz, country, folk, classical – whatever the gig called for, I wanted to be prepared for it. When I was devouring the pages of Guitar Player magazine as a teenager I read every article and every lesson column, whether I understood it or not, and I meant to learn more if I didn’t. My goal was to be the best and most well-rounded musician I could be.
A performing artist needs a distinctive style and sound in order to stand out, and the most successful are often the most strikingly original. When I look back at the musicians that had the biggest impact on me as a player, you could say that about virtually all of them. Even the instrumentalists have an identifiable “voice”. Pioneering Latin rock guitarist Carlos Santana once said in an interview, “your tone is your face. Why would you want to look like someone else?”
When I was first learning to play I was a student and a fan first, learning by imitating my heroes. They taught me what was possible, expanding my concept of what a guitar could do, and I built my vocabulary by stealing from them all. But while many of these players were and are great masters of their instrument, they were not chameleons. They may have started off as I had, imitating their inspirations, but eventually began to stake out territory of their own. This became style as it solidified into a vocabulary and an overall approach.
Learning to play favorite songs is satisfying enough for many people. But even if your musical tastes as a listener are diverse, you might find that you have a musical “home base” that you return to even as you explore other, different sounds. So style is defined by musical preference and genre, as well as your own aesthetic sensibility. We all gravitate towards sounds we find pleasing and compelling.
The finer technical points of style develop over time. Every aspect of your technique has an impact on your sound, including the way you breathe and carry your body. So even if you’re not consciously trying to be an individual, you already are. When you start to recognize this, you become faced with an important choice: how much do you allow your predispositions to shape your style, or do you consciously try to absorb things you admire in other players?
This is not necessarily a conscious decision. Intuitive players are naturally guided by what they hear and find pleasing, so individual style often takes care of itself. The player that chooses to develop more wide-ranging skills is also choosing to have more control over their options. When you have more control and a larger vocabulary, a player’s style can change according to the demands of the music. This is a must for the professional session player and most working musicians in general.
A distinctive voice can be obscured by stylistic “masks”. Again, this can be a conscious choice if the player is being called upon to reproduce a sound. But the most distinctive artists’ style comes through in any musical setting. These can be a product of the player’s physical approach to the instrument – touch, attack, energy – or their musical choices.
You may not have begun to develop a “sound” of your own. As you continue to learn, though, you will find that some things come more naturally than others. Don’t shy away from the challenges, they will help you grow! But do start to recognize your comfort zone, and get to know that territory as well as you can. There’s always more you can do to develop your style with confidence and authority. You might find yourself gravitating to a certain style of playing. Explore the nuances that make great players sound the way they do.
For some people this occurs naturally. If you’re still a beginner or long-term beginner this process may not have begun yet. But the more you play and the better you listen, a sound will begin to take shape. When that begins to happen, embrace it and dive in deeper. Sometimes that means working with and around your limitations. but that won’t stop you from growing. What it will do is allow you to grow as an artist, not just a player.
To do your job well as an accompanist you have to be essential but invisible, because your role is to make someone else sound better. Whether you’re backing up a singer in a band or supporting your own singing as a solo player, there are essential things you need to know. These are not only professional qualities that will keep you working, but musicianship and performance skills that will raise your game all around.
An acoustic guitar is a rhythm instrument! Like a drum, it’s a resonant box that you strike in time. And just like for a drummer in a band, when you’re accompanying a singer it’s your job to provide the pocket.
The basic strumming movement of almost any groove is a steady swing of the arm, with the downstrokes matching the pulse of the song. You should really be feeling the beat with your entire body, but the strum motion itself can help you keep steady time. In fact, moving to the music in any way will make your groove more solid. Some people find it helps to nod their heads or rock their upper body instead of tapping their foot. And if you don’t move when you’re play, you’re almost certainly not feeling the beat. It’s rhythm, not math, so feel, don’t count!
Also like a drum, striking a guitar in different ways produces different sounds. You should find that there’s a natural difference in sound between a downstroke and an upstroke. A downward strum has momentum and gravity behind it, producing a natural accent. If you swing the arm further, the accent becomes stronger.
You’ll notice the same effect in the difference between strumming with the wrist or the arm. A wrist movement produces a smaller arc, while an arm movement produces a wider one. Experiment with small movements that grow increasingly larger, and listen to how it expands your dynamic range. This is basic mechanics: the larger the movement, the greater the force and the bigger the sound.
Try swinging the arm further on alternating downbeats to bring out a “backbeat” on counts 2 and 4. Think of where you would expect to hear the snare drum, and give those beats a little more energy. You can alternate between the bass or treble strings to imitate the “thump” and “snap” of a kick and snare drum.
Along with keeping the beat, your other role is to provide the musical backing for the singer. That means that the vocal is always primary, but your role is not just to be in the background. In a group setting or a pop track, there are musical parts that form the “bed” or basic background, and others that weave around the vocal to add interest. This can be a part of the bed that’s accentuated for a moment, or another instrument or sound.
You should be able to mirror the singer’s dynamics, bringing the energy up and down in response to the vocal. This often means doing less in the verses, more in the chorus, but it’s your job to pay attention and let the singer lead. However, it adds a lot to fill in the spaces between vocal parts with accents or even fills. Again, think of the example of a drummer playing a fill at the end of a cycle to bring the next section in. Playing melodic fills can add a lot to the music as well, but never at the expense of the groove. Above all, pay close attention to the vocal and choose your spots for maximum impact. Never overplay!
This might seem like a no-brainer, but you might be surprised. It’s especially relevant in a place like Nashville, where there are so many singers that need accompanists. It’s pretty common to see a singer onstage performing, backup up by a guitarist half-obscured by a music stand or iPad.
There’s nothing wrong with using charts, but they should be there for reference. First of all, everyone listens better when they aren’t reading. You need to be able to take both auditory and visual cues from the singer, which is impossible if you’re overly focused on the chart. (See number 3 above). You do want to develop your reading skills to the point that you can keep track of what you see AND hear, but even so it serves the music better when you’re fully focused on the vocalist. After all, a singer-and-accompanist dynamic is essentially a duet, in which one role supports and adds flavor to the other. To do this well, you need to pay attention to the interaction, not just your part alone.
Unless you’re hidden in darkness at the back of the stage or in an orchestra pit, you are often as much in view as the singer. There are few things more distracting to an audience than disinterested-looking musicians. Your presence on the stage is often just as important visually, even if you’re not the center of attention. A good accompanist is a foil for the singer, and adds just as much to the show.
If you do need to use charts or music onstage, be aware of whether you’re obscured by whatever is in front of you. Keep it as unobtrusive as possible, and don’t bury your face in the chart! I’ve seen entire bands onstage squinting at music stands while the person the band is supposed to make shine looks out of place trying to perform. (This is not just a question of inexperience, either, I’ve seen many seasoned pros do the same thing).
Any visual discrepancy onstage distracts from the impact of the performance. It’s like an actor in a play suddenly breaking character and speaking to the audience as themselves. It breaks the spell and takes the audience out of the song! Everything about you, from the way you dress to the way you carry yourself, is a part of the performance and needs to match the tone set by the artist you’re backing up.
If you’re a working musician, you already know that good accompanists get hired: there’s always more need for solid backup players than for flashy lead pickers. Both have their place, but most popular music is vocal-driven and so every good player should know how to make a vocal shine – whether it’s someone else’s or your own.
This week, “Speaking of practice…”, a guest post from drummer Robert Crawford’s drumbad blog.
I had a drum teacher named Bill Roth.
I took lessons from him when I was 15 for only about three months because for the 15-year-old me, he was old and said lots of weird stuff. I later went back to him when I was 24 or 25.
He ended up being not only the greatest teacher I could have asked for, he became a dear, dear friend. He was a humble and compassionate man in character and in his drumming; A deep and spiritual person. Just like the Guru on the Mountain except he was a drummer in Akron. Sometimes our drum lessons didn’t even include drumming or anything pertaining to drums. Often he’d stump me with some crazy Guru on the Mountain question. When I would come up with an answer, I’d ask if it was right and he would say, “I don’t know.” With his eyebrow cocked, like he really did know, but wasn’t going to tell you ‘cause you gotta figure that shit out on your own.
Anyway, he was a brilliant and perfect guide, teacher, person and friend. The only teacher I’ve ever had, school, music or otherwise who actually pushed for me to study with other drummers/teachers. Even recommending teachers to me. It eventually came to where I didn’t take lessons with Bill anymore. Which was a great thing because instead of seeing him for only 30 minutes a week in a tiny, little room. I saw him 3-4 days a week for hours. We became very close and he was definitely my Sage in the truest sense of the word. He passed away in 2000, and needless to say, his lessons in drumming, music and life will be with me forever.
At first I looked at him much the same way he would at me, with my eyebrow cocked. Except I didn’t really know what the hell he was talking about. I said, “I don’t know.” and he told me to just think about it and let him know. But to keep in mind, it can be anything. Not a bunch of different things, only one thing and of course variations of that one thing. (a rudiment, a specific groove or even something you come up with on your own). But ONLY one thing.
I never did get the chance to let him know. Although he never brought it up again… but I did go on somewhat of a quest to find what this one infallible thing could be. So I started asking other drummers the same question. I often got the same answer, ‘That’s impossible’. Which I guess is not a wrong answer. After all, everything IS one thing, right? I don’t know.
Throughout this quest, two people’s answers stuck with me the most:
I asked Gregory Hutchinson when he was on tour with Ray Brown, and he answered immediately with, “The jazz ride pattern. With your right and your left hand. Because if you can nail that… whew!”. Then he walked away.
So I spent a lot of time doing just that. This was not the only thing I practiced but it was a big part of the time spent with my instrument because it really made sense. I mean not only the pattern itself, but working on ‘Swinging’. Because if a drummer swings, then he swings, PERIOD! In any style of music that he plays. “If you can nail that…” it translates into everything you play, always. Everyone can feel it and it is undeniable.
Then, after attending a Jack DeJohnette clinic, I got the chance to talk to him and I asked him the question. After holding his chin and thinking about it for a few seconds, he said, “I’m not sure, but I don’t think you would necessarily need to be at the drum set when you did it. You could do it sitting under a tree or painting.” Damn, Jack!! That’s why you’re so bad!! I thought to myself.
Because if playing music is what you “DO”-your passion, then your instrument is always with you. Much like that dear friend who is with you even when they’re not ‘with you’. Whether you’re sitting under a tree, painting, shopping, whatever you’re doing. It’s always on your mind in some way (and I’m sure your instrument thinks of you often as well).
Now in an attempt to not get too philosophical, let me just say that fortunately for us, we don’t have to choose only one thing to practice. We could, but we don’t have to. So practice everything. Practice one thing. Practice whatever you want. Just make sure you enjoy what you’re practicing. That is the most important thing. If you are practicing something you don’t enjoy, that is your fault. If it’s boring, that’s your fault, too, because you’ve lost sight of what you’re really doing… Spending Time With Your Instrument.
So go! Sit under a tree and practice! Paint a picture and practice! Even wash your dishes and practice! Your instrument will be right there with you.
But when you know more it will help you play more things better, and thanks to the internet it’s easier then ever to find new information. There was no shortage of information before the digital age, of course, but now it’s a limitless source of inspiration and resources. But with the added aspect of social media, one of the confusing downsides is that for every piece of information you find, you might also find ten opinions about its value.
Sometimes added commentary can really be helpful, and offer another useful perspective. But that depends on the nature of the commentary. Just as often, the comments can range from dismissive (this isn’t important) to demeaning (this person doesn’t know what they’re talking about). Putting aside the general tone of online conversation these days, it’s worth looking at two major fallacies that lead people to make these comments in the first place.
The first part of that has some truth to it. You don’t need to read music to play in a band, or understand the Lydian chromatic concept to write a great song. However, if information doesn’t inform a specific task, it doesn’t make that information irrelevant to playing music well.
Speaking very broadly, we could say there are two types of musicians: those that play music to do a specific thing, and those that play music and then choose the thing they’re going to do. Both have value, in that the difference is really between what we might call vertical and horizontal knowledge: between depth and breadth. There are specialists and there are general practitioners. In music, as in medicine, we need both. No podiatrist is going to question the need for you to see an internist, or vice versa. So why should a musician that lacks specific expertise question why you might need it?
You could make the argument that many of the world’s most celebrated musicians were unschooled, and you’d be right. All of these people had (and have) unquestionably great gifts. But natural ability is a variable, while information isn’t. Some people just do what they do. Some can duplicate it and some can’t. But anyone can learn about how it was done, and that’s worth knowing.
Music is an art that can be quantified by science. In other words, there are absolute principles of acoustics (sound) and mechanics (how we produce it), but those principles can be applied in many different ways. Each player finds their own balance between the art and the science: between the sounds they make and the way they make them.
If you’re writing music to fit a certain style, there’s an established vocabulary the listener expects to hear. This is why music of a certain time and place tends to have a similarity to it: there’s a common language with variations in dialect and expression. Within that, there will be things than sound right and things that sound wrong- that stand out in a way that distracts from the whole. But that “wrong” sound might fit perfectly in a different setting. And every so often, someone comes along with a completely different way of “speaking” and changes the language for everyone else. This is the history of music in a nutshell.
This doesn’t necessarily mean “conforming”, although it could be seen that way. If you’re developing your own vocabulary, the only wrong notes are the ones that distract your ears and mind out of the flow of what’s happening.
Then there’s the question of technique. Basic principles of mechanics apply to playing an instrument, as they do to everything else in the universe. Fretting notes on a guitar or strumming a chord requires the application of force, and follows the laws of physics. You could make an argument that “good” technique should use these principles to produce the most sound through the most efficient use of movement. I think this makes a lot of sense, and it’s the basic idea behind the way I teach technique.
However, if you watch people play, you’ll see a LOT of variation in how players approach the instrument.
Some people are inarguably awkward, others less so. Some clearly don’t play well at all, while others are impossibly smooth in spite of what should be an impediment. The bottom line is, we can talk about ideal technique, but we can’t talk about “right and wrong” without making many qualifying exceptions to the rules.
This should come as no surprise to anyone: social media is generally not where we looked for nuanced perspective. But conflicting advice can be confusing, and some of these opinions just add to the noise. I have two pieces of advice:
One, recognize that different approaches or ways of “speaking” may have value or reasoning that you can’t see.
Two, take everything with a grain of salt, including this.
