Interpretations of modern guitar
Jeff Parker, Chuck Johnson, and William Tyler explore the carious ways to make steel strings sing.
Last week, I saw three guitarists either leading bands or performing solo. Each show was different, loosely categorized as rock, ambient, and jazz, but the similarities were as interesting as the differences.
Taking them in reverse chronological order, I'll start with Jeff Parker and the New Breed, who performed on Jan. 27 at Strauss Hall in Hancher Auditorium. The most striking thing about Parker was that he might not even be the most well-known member of his band, his star eclipsed of late by that of drummer Makaya McCraven. The quartet was rounded out by alto saxophonist and keyboardist Josh Johnson, and bassist Paul Bryan.
To think of Parker's star-power is a bit silly; he's an unassuming player who doesn't do anything flashy, but rather always seems to serve the song. Neither Parker nor McCraven dominated the sets on this night; the most notable thing about the performance was that each player subsumed himself to the unit. Parker wasn't even audible as a dominant presence until several minutes into the first of two sets, his first notes played in tandem with Johnson's alto to bring "Executive Life" into being. That first set found the band playing Parker's breakout album, 2016's The New Breed, in its entirety, and that is very much a record of a band carrying out its leader's vision.
The band did stretch out. The album is a brisk 36 minutes, but the hour-long set composed of the same songs allowed for more improvisation, songs taking on new form as a quick smile from Parker would seem to indicate he was planning to explore a bit, or to acknowledge that another player was embarking on a bit of a journey.
The band's sound is layered, often starting with Parker strumming some chords, McCraven tapping out a nascent beat, or Johnson playing something minimal but engaging on his horn or keyboard. Then the others would join in, the groove often established by the second or third instrument to join. These were more composed pieces rather than the typical head-solos-head form of most live jazz quartets.
Before the final song of the first set, the album-closing "Cliche'," Parker pulled close the microphone he had used sparingly to talk to the crowd, then seemed to change his mind and instead started creating a bed of sound by looping himself, employing the various pedals at his feet. He created a bed of sound that seemed ready for the others to jump on, but instead, after a few minutes of this, McCraven began playing the beat and the song as recorded sprung into being.
The second set found the band moving ahead an album in the catalog, drawing from Parker's Suite for Max Brown, the 2020 follow-up (chronologically, musically, and spiritually) to The New Breed. It was a more upbeat set, the songs traveling in a deeper groove than those from the earlier album, though the interplay among the band members that was so captivating in the earlier set remained.
Parker's guitar was occasionally the focus, his solos always tasteful and fairly restrained. When he did take off, it was usually in tandem with Johnson's sax, the paired instruments reinforcing one another as they cut through the rhythm laid down by Bryan and McCraven. His true solos were the times where his sound seemed least processed, less about feel and more about tone.
In that, Parker shared some technique with Chuck Johnson, who performed on Jan. 24 at the Trumpet Blossom in Iowa City. Johnson is best known these days as a pedal steel guitar player, though I first heard him on his earlier solo acoustic guitar albums like Crows in the Basilica. His pedal steel debut, Balsams, is one of my favorite albums for relaxing, a collection of soothing, but always engaging songs full of lush, reverb-laden sounds.
Over the past few years, he has experimented more and more with ways to use electronics to create his music. Sometimes this is built on a base of pedal steel, other times not. On Wednesday, the pedal steel was there, but in terms of the overall sound, you would have been hard pressed to know that most of the time if you weren't able to see him perform.
After starting with a few of the long, languid notes associated with the instrument, Johnson began to experiment. Because the pedal steel has titular pedals at the player's feet, Johnson had an array of guitar pedals on a platform above the top of the guitar. He would pluck a few notes from the strings and then begin to manipulate the sound. At one point about two-thirds of the way through the set, Johnson had created this cresting wave of sound, the usual high lonesome notes of the pedal steel twisted and elevated into something closer to My Bloody Valentine than Asleep at the Wheel.
Like Parker, Johnson found ways to almost bury his instrument's typical sound, but unlike Parker, he did so with music he was created rather than that of bandmates. It was an extraordinary half hour of music that pointed to a future for an instrument that has seen a resurgence of popularity outside the usual confines of classic country.
I had seen William Tyler twice before doing so again last week. The difference is that in the past I saw him solo, and on Sunday, I saw him with a full band. The variance is considerable. Tyler's albums have usually been more orchestrated affairs than his live shows, but he assembled the band the Impossible Truth, named after a 12-year-old album that only one of the members beyond Tyler played on, and recorded a stunning live album, Secret Stratosphere, which was released in 2023.
Tyler was joined by that same group — Luke Schneider on pedal steel, Jack Lawrence on bass, and Brian Kotzur on drums — on Jan. 21 at Raccoon Motel in Davenport. I always find it difficult to identify instrumental songs, but to my ears, they essentially played the contents of that live album. I was happy for that, because it was enough to see the four interact on stage to create what I had enjoyed for several months in my headphones.
Tyler is the rare guitarist who makes instrumental rock records. Others in his cohort — Chris Forsyth, Ryley Walker, Bill MacKay, and Steve Gunn among them — have introduced vocals after largely or exclusively instrumental work early in their careers. Tyler remains true to his instrument, augmenting with others but keeping his six strings at the forefront of his music.
In some ways, the show provided a more traditional role for the pedal steel, but not entirely. Schneider plays his instrument in a way that is familiar, the swells, sweeps and cries giving Tyler's songs a plaintive feel that grounds his songs in an earthy foundation. At the same time, he also uses pedals (in his case situated along the edges of the bench he is seated at) to create processed sounds while often using an eBow to create a drone on one string while playing a counter melody to Tyler on the others.
Tyler's songs are traditionally structured, with what amount to verses and choruses, but the way the players improvise and interpolate new elements into those structures also gives a nod to the sort of jazz-influenced music Parker is creating. Another parallel is the way Tyler digs his way into the songs. He is more the focus here than Parker with The New Breed, but it doesn't feel like endless soloing as much as it does sparring with his bandmates. HIs guitar is the dominant instrument, but there are numerous times you hear Schneider's pedal steel rise up and catch your ear.
As wonderful as all three of these shows were, as much as they highlighted the unique skills of each player, I came away from the week hoping that someday we'll see some cross-pollination among them. It's more likely with Johnson and Tyler, as their circles have more overlap, but I would love to hear Johnson backing Parker, or hear Parker and Tyler exploring the common ground between their sounds.
Given the expansive discographies and adventurous exploration of this trio, I wouldn't count it out.
One final, somewhat related note. Another favorite guitarist who has created a sound all his own is Julian Lage. Once a wunderkind of the jazz set, he is now a player in his mid-30s with an impressive discography of solo and sideman recordings. His latest is the forthcoming Speak to Me, an album produced by Joe Henry. If ever there was an ideal pairing, this may be it. Henry, one of the most idiosyncratic singer-songwriters of the past half century, has also become one of the most sympathetic producers of the past two decades, helping artists to create earthy, grounded and timeless albums that often are seen as high water marks or later-career peaks.
This pairing is inspired, and the songs that have been teased thus far indicate this may be the most playful, audacious album of Lage’s career. I’m very much looking forward to this one. Here’s a taste: