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Category: Miscellaneous

  • The 10 Best YouTube Channels for Guitarists

    The 10 Best YouTube Channels for Guitarists

    Last Updated: 3/22/2025

    How did anyone ever learn anything before YouTube?

    I mean, I was alive during the last century, so somehow I learned a bunch of stuff. But YouTube makes it much easier, especially when it comes to skill-based tasks like playing the guitar.

    A ton of creators have figured this out, too, of course, and the number of channels dedicated to the best instrument in the world has exploded. But some of those channels have risen to the top (at least the top of my list), and I want to share them with you today.

    If you are a guitarist looking to get better at your instrument, these are the top 10 channels you should be following.

    Rick Beato

    Rick Beato is a former college professor, professional musician, and producer. He is a walking encyclopedia of all things music, and he features the guitar in many (perhaps a majority) of his videos. Plus he’s interviewed many of the biggest names in rock and jazz guitar.

    I don’t care how much you think you know, you will learn something from every Rick Beato video.

    Phillip McKnight

    Phillip McKnight has been a guitar nerd since he was in high school. He even owned a guitar store for 13 years until he decided to make YouTube his full-time gig.

    Much like Rick Beato, Phil has his own encyclopedic knowledge of guitars and the guitar industry. His videos and live streams are not as well-produced as other channels, but the depth of his content continues to blow me away. If I’m being honest, he is my favorite YouTuber, period.

    Rhett Shull

    Rhett Shull is an Atlanta-based musician who wanted to make a channel “to teach his 14-year-old self everything he wishes he knew” about the guitar. (Rhett also urged Rick Beato to begin posting videos, so you know he has good taste.)

    Rhett offers lots of great advice and gear reviews from the perspective of an active, working musician. I don’t agree with everything he says, but everything he says is incredibly well thought out.

    Michael Palmisano

    Michael Palmisano is a guitar instructor who has found YouTube fame by reacting to live performances. His typical video features him watching a performance for the first time and dissecting it musically as he goes. If you are looking for music theory applied practically, this is the channel for you.

    Elevated Jam Tracks

    It’s tough to work on soloing when you’re alone in the living room. You can use a looping pedal if you have a specific chord progression in mind, but for general chops-building, backing tracks are the way to go.

    Elevated Jam Tracks have some of the best tracks I’ve heard. Plus, all of the chords are laid out in real time, as well as the scale and note positions. Videos even include sample solos if you need inspiration. The channel prides itself on quality, and it shows.

    Music is Win

    Tyler Larson is a music school grad turned YouTuber. His videos cover a wide range of topics, from gear reviews to song tutorials to fun and even endearing general entertainment content.

    Tyler is an exceptional guitarist, he’s good in front of the camera, he’s creative, and his videos are all well polished. Whether you’re looking to learn or just be entertained, Music is Win has you covered.

    samuraiguitarist

    Another graduate of a music college, Steve Onotera — aka the Samurai Guitarist — represents the Canadian guitar scene admirably. Much like Tyler Larson, Sammy G’s videos are part entertainment, part learning, and all awesome. He also shows off his dry wit quite often, which I particularly enjoy.

    Brandon Acker

    It might seem strange to include a classical guitarist on this list, but before you write him off, check out a few of Brandon Acker’s videos. He started his guitar-playing life as a metalhead but then fell in love with the classical guitar. His calm demeanor and ability to explain and demonstrate seemingly archaic music and musical concepts in an engaging manner are what sets his channel apart.

    It’s always good to expand your thinking and horizons, and when it comes to the guitar, Brandon Acker will help you do just that.

    five watt world

    If you’re interested in the history of guitar gear, do yourself a favor and check out five watt world. The channel features tons of mini-documentaries on the history of guitars and those who play them. The man behind the channel, Keith Williams, really does his research, digging up all kinds of obscure yet fascinating facts that will help you level up your own guitar knowledge.

    Marty Music

    Marty Schwartz, aka Marty Music, is an online guitar teacher. His channel is devoted to detailed lessons on how to play popular rock songs. His content lends itself toward newer players, perhaps those who self-identify as “better than beginner but not quite intermediate.” Regardless, if you’re looking for a guitar tutorial for a specific song, it’s worth your while to see if Marty Music has done it.

    I could have listed any number of other channels, but for me — as of today — these are my top 10. I hope you check some — or all — of them out! Likewise, drop me a line in the comments with your favorite guitar-themed YouTube channel. Bonus points if it’s not on my list!

    Bonus Channel: Milehouse Studios (Warning: NSFW)

    English luthier Paul Richards, the man behind Milehouse Studios, roundly deserves a bonus spot on this list. He is a newcomer to YouTube, but he’s been making guitars (and dirty jokes) for years. What I love the most about Paul that is he makes guitar-building accessible. He has an “if I can do it, anyone can” mentality; plus, he shows you how to get started building and repairing guitars with a minimal amount of specialized tools. If you don’t mind sweary videos, do yourself a favor and subscribe right now.

  • Why Your Stratocaster Sounds Better in E Flat

    Why Your Stratocaster Sounds Better in E Flat

    I’ve recently been trying to get my Rondo SX Stratocaster copy to sound and play better.

    I bought it because it definitely has “mojo” (if you play guitar, you know what I mean), but there were a few issues as well.

    After a lot of fiddling and a bit of fixing, I finally had it playing pretty decently. But it wasn’t until I lowered the tuning by a half-step — from E standard to E-flat standard — that the guitar felt and performed at its best.

    And it turns out, I’m not the only one to have noticed this. It’s a common observation that Stratocasters just work better in E-flat tuning.

    But why?

    While in my opinion there is always a bit of mystery when it comes to why any guitar plays or feels well, I’ve identified four reasons why I think tuning down makes so much sense when playing a Strat.

    (Note: To tune a guitar to E-flat, tune each string, starting with the lowest in pitch and ending with the highest, to the following notes: Eb-Ab-Db-Gb-Bb-Eb. The video below shows you how.)

    Tutorial for tuning a guitar to E-flat standard.

    Easier to fret and bend notes

    A Stratocaster and a Les Paul are two very different beasts. But for the purposes of our discussion, one of the main differences is scale length.

    If you don’t know, “scale length” refers to the distance between the nut and the bridge. It’s the total length of the vibrating portion of the string. A Strat has a 25.5” scale length, but a Les Paul is shorter at 24.75”.

    The upshot of this difference is you have to have more tension on Strat strings to bring them up to pitch than Les Paul strings. And when you have more tension on a string, it’s harder both to fret and bend notes. (If you don’t believe me, try playing a mandolin sometime; its strings are extremely taut. You’ll think rats were chewing on your fingertips by the time you’re done!)

    So what’s the solution? Reducing the tension by tuning each string down. If you have a Strat, try it and you’ll see it becomes much easier to play tuned down.

    Richer, deeper tones

    Another major difference between a Strat and a Les Paul is the pickup configuration. Many Strats have three single-coil pickups, while most Les Pauls feature two humbuckers.

    Single coils are great for particular sounds, but they can suffer from sounding a little thin. Down-tuning your Strat can help. Not only do the strings physically play a lower sound, but they vibrate more, too, resulting in a better tone with a little more low end.

    Now, will this make your Strat sound like it’s got a couple of Burstbuckers in it? Well, probably not, but it is likely going to be enough of a difference that you can notice it.

    Easier to sing over

    For most of its history, the guitar has (unfortunately) been a male-dominated instrument. And, of course, men tend to have a lower vocal range. This can be problematic when trying to sing over chords in standard tuning.

    Tuning your guitar down a semitone can help.

    Maybe (like me) you can’t hit a high E, but you can just manage a D sharp. Or for gigging or touring musicians, singing night after night can wear down your voice, and taking things down a half-step can save you some of that wear and tear.

    This could very well be one of the reasons Jimi Hendrix tuned down to E-flat. And often with live concerts, you’ll notice songs are up to a full step lower than the album version. Jon Bon Jovi is a great example — he just can’t sing those high notes anymore like he did in the 1980s.

    Tradition

    There’s one more reason why tuning a Strat down a half-step is a thing, especially in rock and blues music. Simply put, we do it because our heroes did it!

    A lot of the guitar greats of the past tuned down for some or all of their songs. The list includes Jimi Hendrix, SRV, Eric Johnson, Jeff Beck, Doyle Bramhall, and more.

    Unfortunately, we don’t always know why they chose to do this. Maybe they discovered (like I did) that it just sounded better. Maybe it better fit their vocal range. Maybe their heroes tuned down so they dutifully followed suit.

    Whatever the reasons, E-flat tuning is here to stay.

    So what do you think? Do you tune your Strat (or any other guitar) to E-flat standard? If so, why? What are the benefits and drawbacks?

    And if not, give it a try and see what you think. Let us know the results in the comments.

  • What Does It Mean to Be “Good” at Guitar?

    What Does It Mean to Be “Good” at Guitar?

    My son started playing bass and guitar about a year and a half ago.

    He’s already pretty good.

    But like with many 14-year-old boys, the Dunning-Kruger effect is in full force. The other day he told me, “Hey, I’m already almost as good as you are.”

    I’ve been playing for close to 30 years. I told him, “Well, I’m not sure I agree with that.”

    I’d like you to understand something at this point: I’m not being egotistical. I’m not trying to keep him under my thumb either. And believe me, by the time he graduates high school, I do expect him to be better than I am. But today is not that day.

    This interchange got me thinking — what does it actually mean to be “good” at playing the guitar?

    Tabs and Rote Memorization

    My son is really into metal. (I am really not.) He saved up enough money to buy a seven-string guitar, and he spends much of his free time chugging away on the thing. But because he is just learning, everything he does is based on practicing his favorite songs with tablature. It’s rote memorization: I fret the sixth string on the fifth fret here. I do a palm mute there.

    I’m not knocking this by any means. Heck, I use tabs to learn songs all the time. It’s way easier than using my ears like I used to do. But it ignores much of the bigger picture when it comes to music.

    In other words, if being “good” is the ability to memorize and play metal riffs, then sure, my son is better than I am. But, of course, that’s not the entire equation, is it?

    From Tabs to Playing by Ear

    Playing by ear was my bread and butter for a long time. For some reason, I eschewed tabs as “lesser” and learned songs the old-fashioned way. (I’ve since repented of the error of my ways.)

    And so when my son and I play together, I often have to help him with what chords are being played, where the changes are, and so on. My ear is simply more developed than his. But does this make me a better musician?

    A friend of mine used to be Joe Bonamassa’s production manager (yes, for real!). He could dial in a soundboard like you would not believe — his ear was incredible. And yet he couldn’t sing or play a note of music. He had the ear, but zero talent.

    So clearly there must be more.

    From Playing by Ear to Listening

    I play a lot of music by myself at home. For me, playing guitar is as much for stress relief as anything else, so I don’t mind just doing my thing.

    But let’s be honest — there’s so much more to making music when you’re jamming with other people.

    And that is not the same as playing in your living room or bedroom.

    I’ve been doing this for years as part of worship teams at church, and I’ve found the most important skill you can possess is listening. Does my part match what the other instruments are doing? Am I overshadowing the vocals right now? Am I still on tempo? Am I at the right intensity levels throughout the song?

    It’s this kind of musical participation that I think starts to separate the wheat from the chaff. You might be able to play Eruption flawlessly, but if you don’t know how to lay down a part that fits the song, can you really be called a “good” player? Maybe.

    Or maybe there’s one more level to this whole thing.

    From Listening to Playing the Right Thing

    Since we’re getting into the cold and rainy season where I live, I’m back to running on the treadmill rather than going outside. And in the last few treadmill sessions, I watched a recent Austin City Limits episode featuring Lyle Lovett and His Large Band.

    Of course, being Lyle Lovett, he had stacked the stage with a dozen of the best musicians you will ever see, and what struck me most was how in control everyone was. No one was playing blazing riffs or shredding massive solos — although I’m sure every one of them could.

    Instead, most of the parts were simple — you and I could easily play them. (Of course, they played them perfectly.) But they were the right parts for the songs.

    I’m beginning to think that this may be the best definition of a “good” guitarist I’ve come across: someone who can serve the song. Someone who, instead of asking, what am I capable of playing here? asks, what does the song need here?

    And if this is the definition, well, both my son and I have a long way to go.

    In fact, I feel like I’m just beginning to approach music this way, 30 years in. It requires a certain humility and letting go of the need to be at the center of attention. It’s no longer about showing off or using whatever technical skill you might have; it’s about making the song the best it can be.

    Does Being “Good” Even Matter?

    So in the end, what does it mean to be “good” at guitar? In one sense, I don’t think it matters. Good is a comparative term, and music isn’t a competition. If you are enjoying yourself and working at getting better over time, then I’d say you’re a “good” guitarist!

    From another angle, “good” can mean a lot of things. It could mean having the technical ability to play a riff. It could mean the ability to figure out a tune by ear. One could also say that anyone who can fit into the mix of a band or listen well while playing is a “good” player.

    But I am coming to realize the best players do all of this and more — they play the right thing at the right time. And often, the right thing is not the technically difficult thing. It could be as simple as a single note, but that note is played to perfection.

    So what do you think? What makes a guitar player “good”? Let us know in the comments.

  • That Time I Spent Entirely Too Much Time and Money Building a Crappy Guitar

    That Time I Spent Entirely Too Much Time and Money Building a Crappy Guitar

    I built a guitar from scratch once. It was terrible.

    The Backstory

    We were replacing our old dining room table, and I noticed that it was just about half the thickness of an electric guitar. I realized I could probably cut two blanks out of it, glue them together, and have a nice body blank to work with. So, rather than send it to the landfill, I decided to reuse it in a unique way: I’d build an electric guitar and call it the Tablecaster.

    I wasn’t entirely new to making guitars at that point. Several years prior to that, I’d started making cigar-box guitars. I’d never much worked with tools before, and I decided it was important for me to learn how to use basic tools. I stumbled across cigar-box guitars and decided to give them a try.

    An electric guitar hanging on a wall.
    The Tablecaster in all its glory.

    Although I would never claim that I’m especially handy or good with tools (more on that later), I did make over two dozen instruments and sold a number of them as well.

    We were replacing our old dining room table, and I realized I could probably cut two blanks out of it, glue them together, and have a nice body to work with.

    But cigar-box guitars, it turns out, are a far cry from a full-sized electric guitar.

    And so it was that I found myself in my garage one day with a guitar body blank and a vague sense of dread.

    The Obstacles

    Here’s the deal: I am self-taught in many areas. When I started making cigar-box instruments, I knew nothing about anything. Neither had I ever met anyone who built any kind of instrument. I had to figure it out as I went. So when I started on a full-size guitar, I was right back to square one.

    And so it was that I found myself in my garage one day with a guitar body blank and a vague sense of dread.

    I sketched out a few drawings and had some ideas about the finished product, but the process more closely resembled treading water while the Titanic sank. From the get-go, the build was a series of problems to overcome, some of which seemed insurmountable.

    I had never met anyone who had built any kind of instrument. I had to figure it out as I went.

    The first, and biggest, issue was my bandsaw. It was a cheap Harbor Freight model and I probably didn’t have it set up right (self-taught, remember). The upshot was the saw would not (and still does not) cut a straight line — it ran all over the place. This made cutting the body to shape extremely difficult. But I somehow got it done.

    Drilling out material from a guitar body blank.
    My solution for relieving weight.

    The next issue was weight. The table body was massively too heavy, so I used my drill press and a 1” bit to hog out most of the inside to make it a semi-hollow instead of a solid body. That meant I needed a cap, which I had to glue up, all the while half-guessing how to do it the “right” way.

    I sketched out a few drawings and had some ideas about the finished product, but the process more closely resembled treading water while the Titanic sank.

    Routing out the neck slot was the next challenge because I was not experienced with a router (or how terrifying they are!) and precision was the name of the game. It took a long time and a lot of walking away in frustration before that task was done.

    The neck had its own challenges. I actually was doing a halfway decent job at first. I figured out how to route out a straight line for the truss rod and got that installed. But I made a few big mistakes. First, the headstock ended up being too small — the tuners barely fit. More importantly, because of my lousy bandsaw, I cut one side of the neck too narrow, which meant the high E string was too close to the edge of the fretboard.

    There were a number of times when I honestly thought there was no way I could finish it. The problems were too big and I wasn’t skilled enough.

    Finishing the guitar presented even more challenges. Although I used center lines, my pickups were slightly off-center. And I used a bone nut that I poorly shaped, resulting in a guitar with too-high action that was hard to play. I don’t even want to talk about the electronics, but suffice it to say I eventually got them working.

    Close-up picture of a guitar headstock and neck being built.
    Installing the truss rod.

    The Results

    At the end of the build, I was rewarded with a costly, time-consuming guitar that could actually make sound through an amplifier (yay!) but certainly wasn’t up to even the most basic level of quality. From that perspective, the whole thing was kind of a flop. It wasn’t going to be my main guitar like I had hoped. It mainly looked good on the wall, if you kept your distance (and maybe didn’t have your glasses on).

    At the end of the build, I was rewarded with a costly, time-consuming guitar that could actually play but certainly wasn’t up to even the most basic level of quality.

    So yeah, as a guitar, it stunk. But I’d like to think the project was a success in many other ways.

    First, in the middle of making the guitar, there were a number of times when I honestly thought there was no way I could finish it. The problems were too big and I wasn’t skilled enough. Yet I did finish. I had objective evidence that I could do hard things. This knowledge has served me very well over the ensuing years.

    A guitar body in work.
    The cap. Hey, at least I picked cool-looking wood!

    Second, I learned a ton about tools and guitar-making. If I were to make another guitar completely from scratch (which I would like to do at some point), it would probably end up much better than the first one. And if I committed to making a number of them, I have no doubt there would come a point where I was making passable instruments.

    So yeah, the guitar stunk. But it was a success in many other ways.

    (I have since made a guitar using a factory-made neck and put together a few kit guitars. They’ve turned out decently.)

    Third, it helped with my ability to make basic repairs. I set up all of my own guitars, and I even just swapped out a plastic nut and saddle for bone on one of my acoustic guitars. I can level frets, adjust truss rods, and lower or raise the action without having to pay a guitar tech to do it. I can even do some basic electronics work if I must.

    Fourth, I appreciate good craftsmanship so much more now. I stand amazed when I come across any guitar that is well made. Craftspeople like luthiers often do not get enough credit for how amazing they are and the work they do.

    I can now perform basic repairs and set up my own guitars. I can level frets, adjust truss rods, swap out nuts, and lower or raise the action without having to pay a guitar tech to do it.

    In the end, whenever I look at my handmade guitar hanging in the closet, I have a mix of feelings. The honest truth is the guitar is just not very good. But I am proud of the fact that I did as good of a job as I did while basically going in blind with not a ton of natural talent to work with.

    And as driven as I am in my life to produce results, the guitar serves as a constant reminder that I can’t always control the outcome, and I can’t always guarantee perfect work. But I can keep moving forward in spite of obstacles and always give every endeavor my best effort. If nothing else, having a tangible reminder like this was worth the battle, even if I didn’t accomplish exactly what I set out to do.

  • Answering the Question, “Do Tonewoods Affect Electric Guitars?”

    Answering the Question, “Do Tonewoods Affect Electric Guitars?”

    Last updated: 3/21/2025

    To (mis)quote Ron Burgundy, “It’s kind of a big deal.”

    If you haven’t come across this yet, don’t worry — you will. And if you have, you probably have the scars to prove it.

    It’s perhaps the biggest, most heated debate of them all when it comes to electric guitars. If dueling were still a thing, many guitarists would be wielding revolvers and dodging lead on a regular basis.

    I’m speaking, of course, about the Great Tonewood Debate.

    Fighting “to the Pain“

    If you’re ever in need of an argument, tonewood is a great choice. There are two camps, and if the internet has any bearing on reality, they are willing to fight to the death—maybe even “to the pain” a la The Princess Bride.

    Some people swear on their mother’s grave that the wood used in guitars shapes the overall sound. Others will tell you it doesn’t matter at all—according to science, of course.

    And neither camp is willing to budge an inch.

    But what are the facts? Why is there such hoopla in the electric guitar community around the role wood plays in an instrument’s tone?

    Some people swear that the wood used in guitars shapes the overall sound. Others will tell you it doesn’t matter at all. And neither camp is willing to budge an inch.

    I want to wade into the deep end and give you my thoughts on tonewood. Although I have no pretenses that a single blog post will end this debate once and for all, hopefully it will help at least a few of us understand the actual role tonewood plays in an electric guitar’s sound.

    Use this information at your own discretion, by the way, and if you happen to find yourself on a discussion board, proceed with extreme caution.

    Tonewood and Acoustic Guitars

    First off, let’s get one thing clear: When it comes to acoustic guitars, tonewood absolutely matters.

    There is total, complete agreement about this in the guitar world.

    Tonewoods matter when it comes to acoustic guitars. Photo by Justin Ziadeh on Unsplash

    This is due to how an acoustic guitar produces sound. It’s essentially a natural system that takes the vibration of the strings and, via the materials and shape of the body, amplifies the sound so we can hear it. Given that it’s a completely physical process, the materials involved dramatically affect the end result.

    When it comes to acoustic guitars, tonewood absolutely matters.

    A spruce-top guitar tends to have a brighter sound, while a cedar top has a warmer sound, for example. The material used for the top, the bridge, the back and sides, and the neck all work together to create a unique vibration pattern that results in a particular sound.

    This doesn’t mean that a certain type of wood is better than any other type when choosing an acoustic guitar; you just have different sonic options to choose from. There are high-quality guitars made from all kinds of materials, including non-wood materials like carbon fiber.

    But the materials used in acoustics absolutely produce different types of sound.

    Tonewood and Electric Guitars

    Now we get to the rub.

    People make all sorts of claims when it comes to tonewoods and electric guitars. And by “people,” I don’t just mean keyboard warriors on the internet. Guitar brands use these claims in their marketing materials all the time.

    Maple fretboards are often marketed as being snappier and producing a brighter sound than rosewood. Likewise, maple caps (a cap is a thin piece of wood glued to the top of the body) are said to brighten up the sound of a guitar or provide more sustain.

    This guitar has a flame maple cap. Photo by Polygon Group on Unsplash

    But it’s important to remember that electric guitars are not acoustic guitars in one key respect: they do not produce sound the same way. Acoustic guitars are basically analog echo chambers; electric guitars rely on magnetic fields.

    People (including guitar brands) make all sorts of claims when it comes to tonewoods and electric guitars

    When you strum an electric guitar, the steel string vibrations interrupt the pickup’s magnetic field, and the resulting signal is transmitted to your amp, which amplifies the sound. This is a significantly different process from an acoustic, even if the input—a vibrating string—is the same.

    Okay, but Does It Matter?

    In my opinion, it’s the confusion surrounding this distinction that gets guitarists all riled up.

    Some claim that the characteristics of the wood and the vibration of the body still affect the sound of an electric, while others argue that physics proves it just isn’t so.

    But who is right? Does tonewood matter for an electric guitar or not?

    It seems to me that the best answer is “yes”…with a caveat.

    I don’t know…this guitar sounds pretty good!

    If the vibration of a steel string over a magnetic field is how an electric guitar makes a sound, it makes sense to believe that anything that affects a string’s vibration will affect the sound too.

    Does tonewood matter for an electric guitar? The answer is “yes”…with a caveat.

    And since the guitar string is attached to both the neck (at the nut) and the body (at the bridge), it makes sense to think that the materials the guitar is made from interact with the string and alter how it vibrates.

    This line of thought leads me to believe that yes, tonewoods do matter on an electric guitar. But compared to many other factors, they matter very little.

    The Signal Chain Is Where It’s At

    There are many inputs along an electric guitar’s signal path.

    From the point where you play (vibrate) the string to the point your brain registers the sound, that signal has had to flow through:

    • One or more guitar cables
    • One or more pickups
    • The internal components and wiring of the guitar
    • Any number of pedals specifically designed to alter the signal
    • The amp’s preamp, components, and wiring
    • The speaker and speaker cone
    • The air surrounding the amplifier
    • Your ears
    All of these pedals affect an electric guitar’s tone more than what wood it’s made from. Photo by Frankie Lopez on Unsplash

    Ideally, some of these inputs (wires and cables) shouldn’t change the sound at all, but others (pickups, pedals, amps) are specifically designed to impact the sound. 

    And these things mold and shape the sound of the guitar orders of magnitude more than what wood the guitar is made from.

    My Experience

    As an example, I used to have a Danelectro 59M NOS+. Danelectros typically have a bright, sparkly tone with great mids. They are great guitars if your goal is to cut through the mix.

    Based on the tonewood theory, you would think it must have a maple fretboard and cap, right? Sorry to disappoint, but the fretboard is rosewood and the body is masonite—that’s engineered wood made from wood chips!

    The same is true for all of my other guitars. Each one has a unique sound, but honestly, the biggest differentiator is the pickups.

    My single-coil Strat sounds like, well, a Strat. My Gibson with P90s has that signature growl common to all guitars with this type of pickup. And I used to own a PRS that could seemingly do anything.

    If I were to put a number on how much tonewood affects the sound of an electric guitar, I’d put it at one percent—on a good day.

    As far as I can tell, the guitars’ materials have little to do with how they sound.

    And, of course, as soon as I step on my overdrive pedal, the sound changes completely. The same can be said for my amp—adjusting any of its settings can significantly alter the way any of my guitars sound.

    (And if you really want to go crazy, start messing around with an EQ pedal.)

    In the end, if I were to put a number on how much tonewood affects the sound of an electric guitar, I’d put it at 1 percent—on a good day.

    Yes, it probably has some impact on the sound, but any pickup, pedal, or amplifier is going to affect things much, much more because that is what they are designed to do.

    The Great Tonewood Debate Rages On

    The Great Tonewood Debate will likely continue for as long as there are guitarists and guitar companies.

    On the one hand, some people will die on the “tonewood” hill. On the other, marketing teams have to differentiate their products somehow.

    The best advice I can give you is to find out for yourself. Play a bunch of guitars and see what happens. You might agree with me or think I’m full of it.

    But at least you’ll be making music. And isn’t that kind of the point?

  • Why You Shouldn’t Buy a 12-String Guitar

    Why You Shouldn’t Buy a 12-String Guitar

    I had to change out my car’s battery the other day. The normally simple procedure was made more complicated because there was a bracket securing the battery to the car. I could not quite reach the bolt to unscrew the bracket with my wrench.

    I found out via a YouTube video that you needed an extra-long fixture to easily reach it — something any auto shop or gearhead would have, but not me. I eventually found a way to get the job done, but it would have been much easier with that specialized tool.

    Too Many Guitars? You Mean Not Enough Guitars

    There is a certain point for many of us where we start getting more than a few guitars — enough to unironically refer to them as a “stable.” At that point, we usually start branching out. We ask questions like, “Which guitars are missing from this collection?”

    So we start buying the “new and different.” As for me, I started my current collection with a cheap Epiphone Les Paul Special. After a few years and a lot of saving up money, I expanded my collection to a PRS SE Custom 24 and a Godin Strat-style guitar. A little more time and savings netted me a replacement for my stolen Seagull acoustic, a Deering banjo, a Danelectro, an Ibanez semi-hollow…you get the picture.

    But there is one guitar type that I no longer have. It was special, it was different, and it filled in a hole in my collection. Yet it just didn’t stick.

    The 12-String Question

    The guitar in question was a 12-string acoustic by my favorite guitar brand, Seagull. It was well constructed and had a cedar top, which I prefer over spruce because of the darker, richer tones. Quality was not an issue; neither was the full, chimey sound.

    And yet, it didn’t last. I had it for maybe a year before I sold it to acquire other gear. But why?

    A Specialized Tool

    In my experience, just like the extra-long socket wrench I needed to change my car battery, an acoustic 12-string is a specialized tool. There are certain songs it really works well for, but many others not so much.

    In my case, I was finally able to play “Life By the Drop” by SRV the right way. And I could pick along with that one part in “More Than a Feeling” by Boston.

    But honestly, once I discovered the few songs I knew that really were written with a 12-string in mind, there wasn’t much else I could do with it.

    For everything else I tried, it was nothing but a bulkier, thicker-necked, harder-to-play instrument that didn’t sound “right” on most songs written for a six-stringed guitar.

    To Buy or Not to Buy

    In the end, for me personally, it didn’t make sense to keep the guitar. I had several hundred dollars tied up in an instrument that was so specialized that I rarely used it. When I did break it out, it was harder to play, and when I wasn’t playing it, the instrument was taking up valuable space in my closet.

    As for my advice, if you already have several guitars and are looking to round out your collection, a 12-string might be a good idea if you like or prefer the sound, or if you are specifically writing songs with it in mind. But outside of a few specific contexts, it’s very likely that your regular six-string is going to sound and perform better.

    If you have a different take on why a 12-string guitar is a valuable addition to your stable of instruments, let us know in the comments!

  • How to Know If You’re a Good Guitarist and Why It Doesn’t Matter

    How to Know If You’re a Good Guitarist and Why It Doesn’t Matter

    If you’ve ever noticed, being rich is a sliding scale. When we first start out in life, most of us are working crap jobs for no money. The idea of affording anything beyond the basic necessities in life (and often, even those) seems too far off to obtain. And people who own a house and a couple of cars? Those people are rich!

    But eventually life progresses, and one day we wake up to discover we’re now that person who has a house and two cars. Except we certainly don’t feel rich! Those people with giant houses and big-screen TVs in every who take vacations to Europe — they’re really the rich ones.

    Except the people who reach that level of income will tell you they don’t necessarily feel rich either. It’s the multimillionaires who own five homes and a yacht — they’re rich.

    And on and on it goes. “Rich,” for most people, actually means “richer than I am.”

    On Being a Good Guitarist

    For most of us, being a “good” guitarist is a bit like being “rich.”

    When you first start out, you figure out the basic cowboy chords pretty quickly, but it seems like you’ll never be able to play barre chords — players who can do that are amazing! And then once you’ve figured out barring, it’s the people who can play a guitar solo who are “good.”

    Or triads. Or modes. Or who play in a band. Or who make YouTube videos.

    For most of us, “good” ends up meaning “better than I am.”

    And yet, we constantly want to appraise our own playing. We almost reflexively judge our own abilities against people whose skills make us wonder why we are even trying.

    For most of us, “good” ends up meaning “better than I am.”

    Or we get into pissing matches about who the greatest guitar player is (answer: there isn’t one).

    Why It Doesn’t Matter

    The reality is, there is no list of characteristics I can give you to tell you when you’ve become a “good” guitarist. There’s no set of achievements that, once completed, unlock that title for you.

    Yes, there are probably a few things you need to be a “good” player. You should probably be able to make sound come out of the instrument, for instance. But there are so many genres of music, styles of playing, and musical preferences that finding some kernel of pithy, underlying truths about what makes a good guitar player is almost impossible.

    And even if it were possible, labels are by and large useless. What does it really matter if you or anyone else considers your playing to be “good?” One person may love how you play, while someone else may hate it. You might be a great rhythm player but suck at soloing. Or you might have the manual dexterity of Joe Satriani but not be able to play in time.

    What does it really matter if you or anyone else considers your playing to be “good?”

    Thus we are right back to where we started: What does “good” mean, and who gets to define it?

    Let’s also remember that music is not a competition. You don’t get any extra points for being “better” than anyone else. Ultimately, are no wins or losses because music is art. And the best music in my opinion is collaborative art — art in which egos and competition only hurt the end result.

    How to Really Rate Yourself as a Guitarist

    The truth is, given any set of criteria, I am better than some guitarists and worse than others. And while I may move up or down the list, there will always be someone better than I am — someone to look at and say, “Now they’re ‘good.’”

    But that’s a limiting mindset if you ask me. I would propose a set of other, more useful metrics to judge yourself on. Things like:

    Are you having fun? 

    Do you actually enjoy playing guitar? This is the number-one reason I play and even write about guitars — because I like them. Playing brings me joy. If you’re not having fun, you’re missing the point!

    Are you progressing, or at least maintaining a level you’re happy at? 

    In other words, are you at or striving to get to a level where you can play the things you want to play? Musical proficiency and growth are often rewarding for their own sake.

    Do you share your passion with other like-minded people? 

    Do you have the chance to play music with or for others? Or at the very least, do you play music for your own enjoyment?

    Given any set of criteria, I am better than some guitarists and worse than others. But that’s a limiting mindset.

    If you can say yes to any of these things, then I would say, “Congrats! You are a good guitarist.”

    Call yourself anything you want: Okay, decent, intermediate, learning — it doesn’t matter. What matters are things like having joy, progressing as a player, and engaging in a passion. Focus on these things, and the “good” will take care of itself.

  • Why There Is No Such Thing As the Best Guitarist of All Time

    Why There Is No Such Thing As the Best Guitarist of All Time

    Stevie Ray Vaughan is the best guitarist of all time.

    Don’t believe me? Check out his performance of “Texas Flood” from the Live at the El Mocambo DVD:

    I have watched this video dozens of times, and every time I watch it, I get goosebumps. I shake my head in disbelief. I utter profanities in my head as I watch in awe.

    No other guitarist plays with as much feel as SRV. No one else can get the tone he got. No one else can play with every fiber of their being like Stevie.

    SRV is quite simply the best to ever pick up a guitar.

    Who is the best guitarist?

    Of course, what I really mean to say is, “I personally find Stevie Ray Vaughan to be the best guitar player ever.” Or to be even more accurate, “SRV is my favorite guitarist.” Because really, let’s be clear — there is no “best” guitarist, and there never will be.

    The debate over the best guitarist is good for discussion. It sells a lot of magazines, and it gets a lot of keyboard warriors up in arms on the internet. And I’m a sucker just like the rest of you — I read the lists and get sucked into the conversation too.

    But at its core, who is the best guitarist? is an unanswerable question.

    The best in which genre?

    The first reason this question cannot be answered is because there is no agreement on which genre “the best” refers to. Most people who argue about such things are really limiting the conversation to rock and roll, which often includes blues.

    But what about jazz? Surely Django Reinhart belongs on the list. The man was the major force in jazz in his lifetime and could absolutely tear up a guitar solo — and don’t forget, his hands were a mangled mess due to injuries he sustained in a fire. He could literally only play guitar with two fingers.

    Django Reinhardt.
    Django Reinhardt revolutionized jazz guitar with only two working fingers on his fretting hand.

    But then that would still leave out classical guitarists, many of whom are phenomenal musicians. Segovia is the most famous, but Raphaella Smits is outstanding in her own right. Surely the intricacies of the classical guitar are much more difficult than most standard rock tunes, so players like Smits must be better than their rock contemporaries, right?

    The best at which techniques?

    But it gets more complicated. Which techniques matter when deciding on “the best?” As far as I know, SRV never learned finger tapping, so if that’s the criterion, then Eddie Van Halen would have to be the best guitarist. But as much as I love Eddie, he couldn’t capture the emotion that SRV did (in fairness to Eddie, no one can).

    Of course, tapping is just one technique. What about legato, sweep picking, bending, and slide guitar? If we’re talking slide guitar, then surely Duane Allman or Derek Trucks would have to be in the conversation (although Eric Johnson is quite good too).

    If we are limiting our decision to precision picking or speed, probably some metalhead in a basement in Ohio would be the winner; however, as far as noteworthy guitarists go, I’d have to give the nod to Tim Henson from Polyphia.

    On the other hand, if we define “the best” as overall mastery of the most techniques, then the hands-down winner is Guthrie Govan, and I seriously don’t know how this fact could be argued.

    Hey, Guthrie, I don’t suppose you could leave a little talent for the rest of us?

    And of course, that’s just scratching the surface. We could go on to talk about the best acoustic players (Phil Keaggy, Tommy Emmanuel), the most influential players (Joe Satriani, anyone?), or the most innovative (surely this award goes to Jimi).

    The best according to whom?

    This is really where the idea of “the best” guitarist breaks down.

    The issue here is, who gets to decide who “the best” is? There is no International Guitar Committee or ISO standard on guitar-playing with which to make some objective decision. There is no checklist or law to help us, either.

    And with no objective criteria to guide us, polls and surveys don’t offer much help; all they can do is tell us who people like the most.

    The only way to truly give someone the award for “best guitarist” would be to appoint a regulatory body in some arbitrary fashion to decree a musician “the best” in some arbitrary manner, which of course would be a ridiculous and pointless thing to do, and even then we would all still argue about their decision.

    Music is not a contest

    At the end of the day, debates about who “the best” guitarist is will continue until Jesus comes back, and probably even after that. There is just no way to define what “best” means and who would rise to the top even if we could define the criteria.

    And for me, that’s just as well. Music isn’t — or at least shouldn’t be — about competition. I understand we all want to progress in our guitar playing and be the best musicians we can be, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who is better than whom.

    Music is collaborative. Music is a journey. Music is a good time on a Friday night. But music should not ever pit one person against another in some ridiculous game of comparison.

    When I play music with others, I care about making music and having fun, not who’s the better musician.

    That’s not to say it’s not fun to talk about subjects like “the best guitarist of all time.” It is, so long as we understand that we’re really talking about our own biases and preferences. And for God’s sake, we have enough to divide us already.

    Besides, as I established earlier, Stevie Ray Vaughan is the best guitarist of all time.

  • How Paul Reed Smith’s Mom Had an Obsession that Led to an Iconic Guitar Look

    How Paul Reed Smith’s Mom Had an Obsession that Led to an Iconic Guitar Look

    I have a confession to make: I love the birds.

    This can be a bit of a polarizing statement, I realize. Some people absolutely love the birds, while others hate them. But I think I’m in good company. John Mayer seems to be in the former camp, as does Mark Tremonti. Even Carlos Santana has jumped on the “birds” bandwagon.

    But whoever designed my “unicorn” guitar, the Vela, seems to prefer dots.

    I’m talking, of course, about the now-famous birds on PRS guitars — specifically, the bird inlays that are found on many of the guitars they sell.

    A brief recap of fretboard inlays

    I’ve written about guitar inlays before, but the gist of it is these are the markers on the guitar’s neck that help orient the player to where he or she is on the fretboard. To put it simply, inlay markers tell you what note you’re playing.

    Historically, while there have been ornate fretboard inlays for decoration purposes for centuries, functional markers have almost always been simple dots, rectangles, or trapezoids, with very few exceptions.

    But then a guitar maker named Paul Reed Smith came along and shook things up.

    Paul Reed Smith, luthier and…bird watcher?

    Paul Reed Smith was much more successful at 20 years old than I was. (For that matter, he was more successful at 20 than I am now.) The young luthier had built a number of guitars but now, in 1976, he had just managed to secure one of his first major contracts: building a guitar for Peter Frampton.

    “When it came time to put inlays on the fretboard,” Paul said, “I didn’t even have to think about it, I just went down to the store, bought a bird guide, and started designing inlays.”

    A close-up of a PRS guitar’s bird inlays.
    A close-up of a PRS guitar’s bird inlays.

    If you’ve ever seen an interview of Paul, you know that he’s a bit of a weird guy. (I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, by the way.) He can be very picky and esoteric about the methods, designs, and materials he uses for his guitars, having amassed a vast amount of knowledge and experience after decades in the business.

    But why were birds an obvious choice for Paul for inlay markers, right from the start?

    The answer is that Paul’s mom was an avid bird watcher. In fact, she would often take young Paul and his siblings out with her to bird watch. Being somewhat close to Washington, D.C., she would even take the family to the Smithsonian from time to time to view bird exhibits.

    Birds and bird watching were a regular part of Paul’s family’s life, so when it came time to design inlays for his guitars, using an avian theme was a natural choice. And he worked with a small team to come up with a bird theme that really worked well artistically on the fretboard.

    Bird inlays on a PRS SE Custom 24 guitar.
    My PRS SE Custom 24 with bird inlays.

    Paul continued to utilize his bird inlays after Frampton’s guitar but assumed they would not be a popular feature. He expected about 25 percent of his customers to prefer the birds, but that isn’t what ended up happening. Instead, the bird inlays became an iconic part of PRS’s look and have been featured on a majority of the models over the years.

    What kind of birds are they, anyway?

    And by the way, in case you were wondering, the inlays on PRS guitars are illustrations of actual birds. Starting from the top of the neck, they are (with fret number in parentheses):

    • A Peregrin Falcon (3)
    • A Marsh Hawk (5)
    • A Ruby-Throated Hummingbird (7)
    • A Common Tern (9)
    • A Cooper’s Hawk (12)
    • A Kite (15)
    • A Sparrow (17)
    • A Storm Petrel (19)
    • A Hawk (21)
    • A Screech Owl sitting on a branch (24)

    Love them or hate them, it’s hard to imagine PRS guitars without thinking about birds. I’m a big fan, as I think they add class and grace, making the brand’s guitars look even better.

    You can learn more about the backstory of the bird inlay on PRS’s website.

  • How I Got My Guitar Back after a Decade of Searching

    How I Got My Guitar Back after a Decade of Searching

    The summer after my sophomore year of college, I interned for a summer at a church in Joplin, Missouri. The pay was not great, but to be fair I didn’t really know what I was doing, either.

    Exhibit A: I remember one day we had purchased a bunch of food for an event, and I put the food that needed to be in the refrigerator in the freezer instead. Nothing like five gallons of frozen-solid milk on a hot day! Refreshing.

    Nevertheless, over the summer I was able to save up enough money from my internship to buy a new guitar. I’d been playing guitar for several years by this point, but I still had my cheap starter Squier and Takamine that badly needed to be upgraded.

    There was a local music store in town that I frequented in my search, and I remember walking in one day and seeing an acoustic guitar on display. It was a dreadnaught with a cutaway and a deep-brown cedar top. It caught my eye, and as I picked it up and began to play it, it felt good. Really good.

    It was a Seagull S6 guitar, and I had to have it. As soon as I had the cash in hand, I went back and bought it.

    I loved that guitar.

    I played it all the time.

    I knew it inside and out.

    I’d play it in my dorm room. I’d sing worship songs with my friends in the chapel. I put on a free concert in the student union with it.

    I even won my school’s talent show playing a song I had written on it.

    It was my guitar, my companion in life.

    Ten years later, and now I’m living in Colorado. I come home from work one day to find the front door of my house wide open. That’s weird, I thought. Maybe my wife didn’t get the door shut all the way when she went to work this morning.

    I didn’t think much of it and went inside. I wasn’t in the house for more than a minute when I heard my wife’s car pull up. When she came in, I jokingly teased her about leaving the door open. “I didn’t leave the door open,” she replied.

    We stood there and looked at each other.

    About five seconds later, it clicked. We’ve been robbed!

    I ran upstairs and saw a disheveled mess. The bed mattress was pulled off the frame. Papers were everywhere. Our computer was gone. My wife’s wedding rings were gone. My guitars were gone.

    It was an awful, sickening feeling, one I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

    I immediately bought another Seagull guitar with the insurance money — a different model this time. Actually, I bought two: a six-string M series and a twelve-string S series. But neither felt right. Yes, they were Seagulls; yes, they were high-quality; but neither of them was my guitar.

    I ended up selling them both after a year or two. I tried out a few more Seagulls over the years, including an Entourage, which was the newer version of that original S6 I had bought back in Missouri. But it didn’t matter: none of them played or felt like my guitar.

    Fast forward another ten years, and now I’m living in the Puget Sound area. I was browsing on Reverb one day when I saw an older Seagull Artist Series guitar for sale for a very reasonable price.

    This guitar looked just like my guitar.

    It was the same model year as my guitar — 2001.

    It had the same look as my guitar, down to the same wear on the sound hole.

    It even came with the same case as my guitar had.

    The only difference was that this guitar was the higher-end version of the one I had owned. It had a different inlay pattern, slightly different hardware, and a better preamp. But it cost just about the same amount that I had paid for my guitar in the summer of 2001. (In fact, I think it may have even been a little less.)

    After I overcame the initial shock of what I was looking at, I made the decision to pull the trigger — how could I not?

    As soon as I had it in my hands and played a chord, I knew this was the one. It played right, it felt right, it sounded right.

    Everything about it was perfect.

    It took ten years, lots of patience, and not a little bit of luck, but I finally got my guitar back.

    My Seagull Artist Series guitar, which you can have when you pry it out of my cold, dead fingers.