Needle still a bit stuck on Eddie Van Halen over here.
In the weeks since he died, I’ve had a few conversations (and read lots of tributes) focusing on his mastery of the broad gestures and the finer points of rock guitar. He didn’t invent it, of course; he just torqued it, executing little things, like a rhythm guitar strum, with such clarity and precision they became remarkable events all by themselves.
Through those little things – the unflashy elements of music that should be discussed daily at a School of Rock near you (but probably aren’t) – Van Halen captured and held attention. He didn’t have to do any of the arena soloist’s repetitive circus tricks, either. He could do them, and we have lots of documentation on that, but he didn’t have to.
That’s because Van Halen could sustain one single note, massage it with a touch of heat-seeking vibrato, and pin you to the wall with it. And then massage it some more and pin you again. At a root level, this guitarist’s mastery is centered around tone – pure light-saber beam or nastily serrated, abrasively distorted or jacked up with overdrive. Tone as an absolute, a quality permeating everything, woven deeply into whatever else was going on. He understood how to unleash the desired tone and texture combination for any situation (on guitar or synthesizer, let’s not forget), and knew how far he could push to achieve maximum intensity. And, crucially, he knew exactly how much of the landscape that tone speedball could occupy.
I kept thinking about this aspect of Van Halen’s artistry on a first encounter with Azerbaijani Gitara, a wide-ranging compilation of recordings by Rustam Quliyev from 1999-2004. Here’s the Bandcamp link:
I know nothing about the music of Azerbaijan. I’ve heard very little of it. I’m happy to report that you don’t need any deep knowledge to appreciate this wonderful collection. If you’ve got a working familiarity with rock-era electric guitar from Chuck Berry through Jeff Beck, Carlos Santana, Jimmy Page and Van Halen, you will “get” Quliyev instantly.
Besides, Ouliyev, who died in 2005 after a cancer battle, was all over the map: Some tracks here revel in Bollywood kitsch, some lean toward flamenco. The tremendous “Tancor Disko” opens with a ruminative rubato fantasia that evokes the smoke-machine haze of peak David Gilmore and Pink Floyd – and then evolves into an uptempo gallop that’s got elements of disco and a rhythm you might hear deep into the rowdy hours at a wedding reception in Baku, Azerbaijan’s capitol city. (Like so many others worldwide, Ouliyev played weddings and social functions to support himself.)
It’s safe to assume that when he was entertaining, Ouliyev didn’t lean too much on the blowtorch sound and crisp articulation he commands so easily here. He’s not a shredder – he favors broad long-toned melodies, and sets them up with chattering little phrases notable for their rhythmic exactitude.
Besides, it’s never just about “what” he’s playing: The “how” of it is just as important – here’s someone who is not using a ton of effects pedals or post-production trickery. Instead, he forged his distinct tone the old fashioned way, by learning the fundamentals (Ouliyev started on such demanding ethnic stringed instruments as the saz) and then – just like Van Halen did – developed playing techniques that made manifest the sound ideas in his head. I’ve been listening for a while now, and I keep listening even when some of the grooves grow tedious, simply to be immersed in the sound. Azerbaijani Gitara speaks to the idea that tone is a language all its own, instantly understandable, existing beyond barriers of nationality and region and genre. Anyone with the capacity to bring heat across wires can contribute to it.
Who is in your Tone Hall of Fame? Don’t spend time thinking about it, don’t craft a list – just rattle off a few and send it along to our suggestion box.
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