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THE ART OF THE SOLO
By Bob Womack
Lately I’ve been playing a blues gig that demands a bunch of soloing from me. My collegeage sons have been coming down to the place where I play to watch our set. As we have
discussed their music and mine, one point has come up: Electric guitar solos are back.
After a hiatus, modern pop musicians have begun to integrate guitar solos back into their
music. In response, Guitar Player Magazine has been running a series on the mechanics
of soloing. I grew up in a period where a “real” guitarist was simply expected to be able to
solo. I learned without any aids to slow down recordings and simplify the process. I also
learned largely without the benefit of lessons. My only advantage was a popular music
scene awash in great solos.
BACKGROUND
Through the late sixties and seventies, the guitar solo was an obligatory and ubiquitous
part of the music scene. Some really great spontaneous material was generated during
the period that has gone on to informed guitar technique for the decades following.
However, in many people’s eyes, the solo form was over-used, and even abused. As a
pro forma, perfunctory vestige, it eventually became despised and was eschewed
altogether by generation X. Recently, however, generation Y has come along and taken
an interest again, and is looking for clues on how to create solos. I’d like to look into the
whole solo phenomenon and try to develop an aesthetic which will help players create
their own styles and develop within those styles until they are able to improvise freely and
take satisfaction in the result.
What is a solo? Well, it can take many forms. We’ve all probably experienced the
squeaking, squealing, and squawking of a disorganized guitar solo that makes us want to
run to the closet, get the shotgun, and put the goose out of its misery, or ours. We may
have also come across the barrage, the non-stop, high-speed chase over the fingerboard
that leaves you panting in your seat, but somehow unsatisfied, when it is over. For years,
I’ve followed the recordings of a particular guitar-oriented band that featured a great
melodic guitarist. After thirty years of listening, I remember finally getting to see a concert
by the band. That night, each of this guitarist’s solos began with some noodling and
squonking, built to faster, flashier noodling and squonking, and ultimately finished off with
him stepping out in front of the monitors and madly tweedling a couple of notes on the
upper register of the fingerboard, playing to the crowd. Each time he did it, the final cheap,
hot lick drew the predictable cheer from the besotted crowd even though nothing had been
said from the fingerboard. No emotion had been conveyed. I left the concert pretty badly
disappointed and feeling the drum solo was the high point of the night. Obviously, these
are examples of BAD solos.
So what is a solo? It is a story. It is a musical composition. It is a trip by car. It may be preplanned and mapped out note-for-note. It may be spontaneously composed on the spot. It
may be a combination of the two. It may be an opportunity to develop the tension and
character within a song or provide an ending for the song. It may be the chance to show
off your flashy licks, but that is its most base form. A solo needs to be a guided tour, with
the instrumentalist as the tour guide. Just as you would in a speech, you need to
intertwine humor, joy, sadness, irony, and the nuts and bolts of your musical idea.
Whatever a solo is, the tools needed to develop a solo are melody, harmony, dissonance,
emotion, speed, intensity, irony, intuition, timbre, and innovation. You don’t need all these
tools to create any one solo but you do need to develop a conversation with these tools
and learn when to exercise each of them. You’ll also need to become familiar with the
various kinds of solos and get to know how to craft a solo that will keep the audience’s
attention and contribute to the song.
THE BASIC FORM OF A SOLO: TENSION STRUCTURE
Music works by creating and releasing tension. Because it is simply a microcosm of
music, a solo needs to do the same. In order to be interesting, a solo must start
somewhere and go somewhere. It must take the audience from one location to another.
Getting there should be where the fun lies. In order to keep the audience’s attention, a
solo should be developmental – starting in one emotional location and moving and
developing to another. If you were to graph the tension structure in two dimensions, time
and intensity, you could see shapes emerge. The most basic form that that a successful
tension structure can take is that of a ramp, with intensity of expression increasing as time
goes on. The ramp can rise until it peaks or “climaxes” at the end of the solo. Given
enough time, the solo can peak and then fall off again in an event called an “anticlimax”.
With an anticlimax added to the ramp, you end up with a triangular structure. The tension
structure of Ravel’s classic ballet, The Bolero, is that of a steadily rising ramp. The rise is
accomplished with volume increases, timbre changes, and increasingly powerful and
dissonant gestures. The piece has such a short anticlimax, only one measure of 6/8 and
one beat, that it appears to simply drop off vertically.
Intensity can be increased by a variety of means, including increasing the speed of notes,
the density of notes, the dissonance of the musical structures, the depth of emotion
exposed, the size of the gestures, the loudness, and/or the pitch. Over an extended solo,
the short-term tension structures may be repeated and modified with additional ramps or
peaks and dips. The result can resemble saw teeth. A group of smaller saw teeth can
build towards a large, final saw tooth.
The basic point here is that the tension structure can’t be left flat. It must rise and fall in
such a way that the audience can follow it and wants to follow it. A solo that begins with
lightning fast licks and continues that way to the end becomes just a barrage of notes with
no change in tension, and often the audience disconnects. A solo that begins slowly and
never intensifies usually yields the same results. The solo needs to create expectations
and then fulfill those expectations, either as expected or in an unexpected or ironic way.
For example, if the song is slow and emotional and you are attempting to raise the bar of
emotion, you can begin with a statement in a low register at the regular tempo of the song
and work your way up to double-time in the higher register of the instrument. If the song is
fast and you’ve got limited speed in your arsenal but you want to accomplish the same
development, you may want to fall back to a half-speed for the beginning and then move
up to the speed of the song.
In order to get a handle on tension structure, let me diverge for a second: While I was
studying music composition in college, I studied music history under this great old guy
who held the chair of music history at the University of Tennessee. He was in his
seventies with moderately long white hair and mustache, very intelligent and kind, and he
looked amazingly like Albert Einstein. He knew his history and his theory like the back of
his hand.
However, during his lectures, when he came to a musical example, he would put on the
music, close his eyes, tilt back his head, relax, and let the music flow over him. You could
see the effect of the music on him as it went through its tensions and relaxations. He
would scrunch up his fists and face as the tension increased, his whole body sometimes
trembling at the tension peak. He would then allow his whole body to relax as a tension
release occurred. He FELT the music. That's the relationship we need to develop with the
music with which we work.
There are several ways to manage your tension structure, but they usually involve a
statement, some development, and a wrap-up. The song context, the desired influence of
the solo on the song, and the instrumentalist’s skills, usually determine what occurs in
between. It has often been taught in public speaking that one of the safest forms a speech
can take is to tell the audience what you are going to say, say it, and then tell them what
you just said, in an encapsulation. The same form can be used in a solo. An opening
statement can set the mood for the solo. A closing statement can let everyone know the
solo is over and the rest of the song is about to begin. Both parts weave the solo into the
fabric of the song, and prevent it from being merely the equivalent of a parenthetical
phrase, located off to the side of song.
Timbre plays an interesting and important role in extended solos. One of the easiest ways
to increase the tension within a solo is to go from a relaxed, quiet timbre to an intense,
urgent one. With a good electric guitar sound based on a tube amplifier, this capability is
often right within the reach of your hands. You can use the volume control or a volume
pedal to begin your solo at a lower level and then increase the volume control as the solo
builds, in order to increase the drive and intensity of your sound. You can also accomplish
some of the same by beginning on the smooth, neck pickup and switching to the bridge
pickup that is harmonically more rich but at the same time more raw.
TYPES OF SOLOS
Of course, every solo doesn’t sound the same, and every solo by a particular guitarist
doesn’t sound the same or use the same approach. Within pop and rock, there are several
basic forms. One of the most basic forms is the melodic form. In this type of solo, one or
more of the melodic themes of the song are played and variations may be introduced in
order to develop the tension structure of the song. Another basic form is the
developmental solo, where melodies from the song aren’t used and the guitar’s statement
is introduced into the song structure purely to develop the structure or content of the song.
By way of example, I’d like to point to the solos in one of the most influential pop songs
ever, from a pop soloing standpoint, the the solos from the Carpenter’s “Goodbye to
Love,” played by guitarist Tony Peluso. Occurring after the second chorus and a bridge,
the first solo in this song begins as a melodic solo. Tony picks up Karen Carpenter’s vocal
melody and plays it very nearly verbatim. About halfway through this solo, Tony transitions
into a developmental style, introducing new material which he uses to increase the tension
of the song, right up until he holds a final note and hands the song back off to Karen’s
voice. This solo was groundbreaking in that it created a form known as the “power ballad”,
a gentle ballad which transitions into large-scale, powerful passages which help it to grow
beyond it’s modest form.
Another form of solo is abstract, in that it treats the guitar more as a sound than a melodic
instrument, and contributes to the song’s tension structure by introducing non-harmonic or
dissonant sounds and/or non-vocal melodies as developmental material for a song. Eric
Johnson is a famous current proponent of this form. His solo breaks are often not
something the average listener could whistle to himself, combining sound effects and his
signature runs. The solos from his song “Desert Rose” are good examples that interweave
this and the developmental forms.
Another form of solo is the coda solo, where the familiar ‘repeat and fade out’ coda forms
the end of a song, and a guitar solo is played over the coda, possibly introducing themes
and variations until the song fades out. Musically, the coda solo can take any of the
previously mentioned forms. For an early and easily identifiable example, we can return to
“Goodbye to Love,” and its second solo. The Carpenters’ harmonies introduce the coda
with an extended, lush figure that is repeated four times though the fade-out. After the
initial statement, Tony Peluso takes off on a freestyle solo that introduces and explores
several alternate melodies and figures forming a descant over the voices. He allows the
tension to relax and build again with each repetition of the coda and is still developing the
tension structure when the fade-out ends. Joe Walsh at the end of the James Gang song,
“Walk Away”, created another interesting coda solo. In the liner notes for the album
“Thirds”, Joe describes the effect as “Train Wreck”. The form this takes is a set of abstract
and developmental solos played concurrently on multiple guitars as the song codas and
fades.
And finally, there is the stand-alone solo, in which the guitar solo serves as almost a break
or diversion from the song. From there, the solo stands on its own until the song is reentered. These can be thought of as separate compositions from the actual song. Longer
solos can often take this form, departing from the rhythm and tension structure of the song
and having an essentially unrelated development. The extended solos in blues-based rock
often take this form. During the longer numbers from the Allman Brothers Live at Fillmore
East, for example, Duane can start a solo, bring the band to a halt, bring up a new song or
theme, solo on that, and eventually re-enter the original song.
DEVELOPING METHOD AND STYLE
Now that we have a handle on what a solo is, let’s look at what tools are necessary to
create an improvised solo, and how we can develop them. I know some of this is going to
sound a little rushed, like Bill Cosby’s description of Marine Medic’s school (“They put up a
chart and say, ‘Here is the body. Look at it. Remember it. Next!’”). Bear with me on this,
because the point of this lesson occurs after we address the mechanics of the process.
Probably the first thing you need to do is to listen to other player’s solos. Lots of them.
Find a style close to that which you wish to emulate. You need to listen not just
recreationally, but technically and analytically as well, asking yourself some questions:
What form did the solo take? What was the tension structure? What techniques were used
to communicate and how were they used to achieve the tension structure? How can I
bend my tools into similar shapes? What parts of the solo are necessary? What parts of
the solo are simply idiosyncratic to that particular player?
They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. Find an artist or two whose solos
really appeal to you and learn their solos. Cop their licks. While you may not want to copy
them verbatim in public, you can really get an idea of how another player gets around the
fingerboard by learning something he does, note-for-note. You need to listen for particular
“licks” or gestures you like in the solo and attempt to recreate them on your own
fingerboard with your own two little hands. Run the lick on a CD player and try it. Adopt a
lick during every practice for a couple of weeks. Repeat until sweet. If need be, use a
learning tool which slows it down to half-speed. Find a playing mate who is better than you
and have him show you some of this stuff. Take a few lessons. Whatever you do, always
work up a new lick “in context”, meaning work it up with entrance and exit strategies in
mind so it can be worked into the body of a solo. Nothing is less useful than a lick that is
so mechanically complex that you can’t put it into a song. If you can’t do it quite like the
other guy, create an entrance and exit that YOU can accomplish. If you can’t exactly copy
his lick, create one like it. Use a cheap recorder to record your work and listen back for
smoothness. Be aware of one thing: Recorded solos may not have been originally
performed in one take. David Gilmour has related that he tends to record multiple passes
at a solo and then use the faders to switch between his favorite parts of the various takes.
They can also be edited. I remember trying to learn one solo from a popular single in the
seventies. There was this one place where the solo jumped from high intensity to low
intensity in one note, and I couldn’t make the same transition. Later, when I bought the
album, I discovered that the single version of the song was a cut-down of the album
version and the edit occurred right at the place where I’d been struggling. It was a good
enough edit that I couldn’t tell with my ears but could with my hands.
Next, begin to develop the ability to echo with your hands a melody you hear with your
ears or in your mind. Here, experience is the key. Do it early, do it often. Play anything,
play everything. I began playing classical melodies because many of them were created
on different instruments from the guitar and thus stretched my thought processes. At the
same time, begin developing runs on the fingerboard. There are many types of runs:
chromatic (moving fret-by-fret), scalar (involving a linear run up or down a recognizable
scale), couplet (organized around interlaced patterns of two notes with a two-note rhythm),
triplet (the same idea with three notes), quadruplet (ditto with four notes), etc. Practice
being able to move -at least- an octave in each of these forms, and being able to start and
finish at locations other than the fundamental. Now I’m preaching to myself. Begin tying
together runs, melodies, and licks in various forms. Try to create the ability to move from
activity to activity seamlessly. You need to develop muscular memory for the various
activities and be able to move from one to the other comfortably. Use the runs to knit
together melodies and licks. Nothing will take the place of woodshedding: spending an
hour or more practicing each day. Set reachable goals, work to accomplish them, reward
yourself, move on to harder goals.
All the while, keep in mind that you want to develop your own style. Find the things in
other’s style that you like and tuck them into your own. As you spread your interests and
experience and learn more guitarist’s material, be thinking of how you can shape all of this
into your own style, unlike anyone else’s. Probably the best way to differentiate is by
naturally emphasizing the things you like as you learn. While you want to learn a variety of
material, it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye on the ultimate goal of being your own guitarist.
THE POINT
Why all these runs and patterns and why all the practice? Here is the point and the payoff:
When improvising, the goal is to allow the mind to disconnect from the individual
instructions. You want your hands to be able to do something without your mind being
forced to send commands. Your runs and patterns can serve as “connective tissue,” giving
your hands something to do while your mind and intuition consider the next move. Why? If
your mind is lost in the NOW, it can’t think of the FUTURE, and plan out a strategy. In
order to improvise successfully, you want to develop “hand macros” which can be fired off
by a thought, allowing your mind to move on and consider the next move. You also need
to learn to connect planned activity with intuitive activity and develop a flow between the
two. This allows you to explore spontaneous ideas, as well as surf mistakes, either by
blending them in as part of the whole or playing with them to create a new gesture. What
is it they say? “If a jazz soloist does something once and it sounds awkward, it is a
‘mistake’. If he does it twice, it is a ‘gesture’.”
So, what is the ultimate goal? An intuitive navigation, conception, and interpretation,
allowing the brain to move up from being lieutenant in local control to admiral in overall
control, thinking ahead and exploring new moves while intuition and hands take care of
the local chores. You want to disconnect you mind from instrumental mechanics, and
connect it more directly to your heart and musical ideas. You say to your hands, “Let’s
start HERE. Go!” And off you go, surfing you feelings with your fingers moving in your
wake.
What is the result? With enough practice, you can actually explore and write as you go.
You can react to audience energy and your own nightly performance by tailoring your
goals. You can attempt new things based upon the resources you have available at the
moment. It begins to resemble a “finger Olympics”: how far can I jump today? You can
approach a particular move with a couple of options in mind and decide whether to risk
publicly trying to fit in something new, if your performance and the crowd’s energy can
propel you enough to make it happen. You can tell a tale, thinking of the ending while
building toward it. Today we are melodic, tomorrow: lick-based, the next day? Abstract. If
your fingers come across something good that your mind didn’t direct, you can intuitively
integrate it! Meanwhile, you mind is free to scan the crowd for someone who is really
enjoying your work and borrow some energy from that person.
Here’s a funny story: When it debuted in the seventies, I listened to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s
“Freebird”, over and over again. The final solo on that song is like a catalog of guitar licks
from the period, all lined up in a row. Surviving Skynyrd guitarist Gary Rossington told an
interviewer that the late Allen Collins, the Skynyrd guitarist who played that solo, simply
went in and improvised the solo, front to back, in one take. There are a few overdubs of
additional licks, but the body of the solo was played contiguously. Wow. While I never
envisioned playing that solo, I decided I needed to add those licks to my catalog. I took the
time to learn them individually but I NEVER played any more than a couple of them
together, not even once. I would occasionally trot out one of them and place it strategically
in one of my own solos.
Last year I played a gig where the band accepted audience requests most of the night.
Throughout the evening, one person half-sarcastically keep yelling, “Freebird!” At the end
of the night, when we called for a last request, sure enough, this person chimed in. I
looked around at the guys in the band and said, “Wanna give it a try?” They were game,
so off we went. I figured we’d share the solos. However, when we wound up for the solo,
my guitar-playing mate winked at me with a sly grin and said, “It’s all yours.” With that he
closed his eyes and concentrated on rhythm. Hoo-boy. I dug up Allen's first lick in my
mind, waited for the starting point, and, taking some of my own advice here, said, “Go!”
And here is where the fun started. As I played the first lick, my mind wandered to the
second lick. At the right time I said, “Go!” and my hand went there. As it began, my mind
went to the third. “Go!” With a little adrenaline and a lot of coffee, I was able to connect up
each of the licks in the order in which they occurred and virtually reproduce the original
recorded solo front to back. No-one was more surprised than I and I have no idea if I could
pull it off again.
PRACTICAL CONSIDERATIONS
Now that we’ve developed an aesthetic, let’s look at ways to integrate our hard-won skills
into live performance. I’ll be honest and admit that I am not completely comfortable the
instant I set foot on the stage. I get the jitters some, my mind isn’t as focused as it should
be, and I find it hard to make both my hands and the whole improvisational mechanism
flow and work right on the first song of the night. I’ve even been quoted as saying, “The
first song of the night is a throw-away.” Vat to do? Vat to Do? To compensate, I’ve
discovered that pre-writing the first solo of the night and practicing it until it is automatic
helps me work through that awkward period off the top. I can connect with the crowd, get
control of my hands, and get used to the spotlight.
I’ve also found that some songs seem to cry out for pre-arranged leads, while others
demand raw improvisation. For example, the blues demand the latter: I find it
uncomfortable to do pure blues without freshly improvising the solos. Some pop tunes,
however, beg for a familiar lead: When my band covers “Love Hurts”, a song made
famous by the band Nazareth, I play a reasonable facsimile of the pioneering Ebow solo
Manny Charlton played on that song. It just works. Sometimes in your practice space
where you can start and stop and fiddle, you can create a solo which is much more
complex and interesting than anything you’d create spontaneously on stage. I’ve read
many stories of guitarists coming up with great improvised material in the studio and then
having to learn their own solos for the stage. So remember, your written solos need be
nothing more than an improvised solo that you particularly like and memorize.
For other, purely practical reasons, you may want to mix pre-written material with
improvised material. If you are running an extended solo, there is no better way to cue the
band to changes than to pull-up a pre-written figure. For that matter, if you are playing
solo-intensive material all night, it can be tough to fill two-and-a-half to three hours per
night with non-repetitive material. You’ll find that your performance quality will vary from
night to night as well. One of the best ways to prevent repetition and keep your quality
consistent is to map-out your songs, reserving some spaces for pure improv and others
for either written or combined work.
Well, there are a few ideas for your consideration. Good luck and happy soloing!