I’ve been playing solo guitar sets for a few years now. I take them whenever the opportunity arises; they’re just great. I don’t have one on the calendar right now, so I figured I’d take a moment and write down a bunch of stuff I’ve learned from this work. Maybe it’ll help you if you’re thinking of going it alone!
For the record, my solo sets are composed mostly of jazz standards. I’ve subjected a lot of people to “Stompin’ at the Savoy” and “Autumn Leaves” and the like, and I feel no shame about this.
The Crowd Isn’t There For You
In fact, the opposite is true: you’re there for the crowd. The exception to this is if you’re really established and you can draw people because you’re featured. If you’re reading this, I don’t imagine that’s the case.
There are implications to this and you should keep them firmly in mind. It means that you are an accessory to the day that they are having. You’re atmosphere. Ambiance. My approach is to interact with people if they open the door, but mostly I try not to bug them. I don’t want to interrupt their conversations, their food and drink orders, whatever.
Being able to add a pleasant atmosphere to their day is a noble goal. Maybe they’re out on the town and having a great time and you get to be a part of that. What a privilege!
Everyone Seems To Think It’s Just Fine
Maybe I haven’t run into an outspoken individual yet, but nobody seems to have strong feelings on hearing solo guitar. I’ve played both my archtop and my nylon string and people seem to be happy to have music, regardless of whether or not they’d pick it if left to their own devices.
I get the idea that guitar music without vocals, as long as it isn’t egregiously offensive and loud, is pretty low on the list of things that make people mad.
Not Having a Band is Great
I can substitute weird chords for fun harmony whenever I want and I don’t have to convince the bassist that this is a good idea. I don’t have to provide a chart. I don’t have to work around everyone’s schedule to get stuff done. If I drift off tempo, I don’t get a dirty look.
I really enjoy playing with ensembles and I will continue doing so; you can’t stop me no matter how hard you try. But there is an incredible freedom to being able to interpret some music the way I see fit and just do whatever I want.
Not Having a Band is Awful
“How can it be both of these things at once?” Experience is multifaceted! It’s possible for it to have two qualities that ebb and flow throughout the event! We can hold two ideas in our head at once. I hope!
Anyway, it means that there is nobody to back me up. If I screw up really badly, stuff goes dead silent for a moment while I reorient myself. Or I make a regular mistake and the song sounds weird for a few notes while I get it together again. There is nobody else to pick that slack up.
It also means that if I start to get a bit fatigued, I have to tough it out. Nobody else can take a solo or play on while I sit out and stretch for a second.
Further, it means that if there does happen to be attention to the music, then that attention is entirely directed at me. That can be a little intense. When I embarked on this adventure a few years ago I found it a little challenging to keep my composure and relax enough to play well when I perceived that someone was paying attention to me.
They’re Probably Not Paying Attention
Something I had to get used to quickly was the idea that I was about to be background music. I was audible scenery. That means that some of the really clever stuff that I felt good about executing was almost assuredly going to go unappreciated. It also means that I had carte blanche to do whatever I pleased with the music. Screwing around with rhythmic approaches on a chord progression and inventing new melodies for a song I’d already played a couple times went over fine. Nobody knew!
The caveat to this is that you have to be good enough at improvising to pull it off lest you become annoying. In these settings, there is a lot of leeway for music but the same sound over and over will absolutely attract attention and it absolutely will be negative and it absolutely will be something you should avoid. I chose to do this because I wanted to have a reasonably varied two-to-three hour set without having to dig around in my memory for approximately 70-100 two minute songs.
If They Are Paying Attention, It’s Probably Good
A few times I did have someone pay close attention to what I was doing and, much to my amazement, they were enthusiastic. Some recognized the songs I was cooking with. Others were happy to see a guitarist out and about (for some reason). When there was attention directed at me, it was usually positive and it made the experience something I wanted to have over and over.
Appearance Seems to Matter
But I haven’t figured out just what the variables are yet. I had one recurring gig, week over week, and I used that to experiment. It turns out that a setlist played on my archtop generated more attention (and tips!) than that same setlist played on my nylon string. I don’t have further thoughts on this, but it amused me so I thought I’d mention it in passing.
You Will Get Requests
You will absolutely get requests and you need to figure out how you’ll handle them. I got asked if I knew everything from classical guitar pieces to rock from the mid 80s. Since the crowd isn’t there for me (see above), I use that to my advantage and I exercise a great degree of discretion. Generally, they want me to play things that I have (A) no idea how to play off the top of my head and (B) no interest in learning. In those cases, I try to let them down gently.
I refined this approach over this past summer. Since I had a recurring series of gigs, I saw some of the same people over and over and I did, in fact, take on two requests. One was in my wheelhouse and I showed back up and honked it out on my nylon string. I felt great, the person who asked for it felt great, it was a win all around. The other? I went home and got to work on it and realized about halfway through that I was about to make a fundamental change to what I was trying to do. I didn’t want that, so I backed out. Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.
That second one was informative, though. Without trying to honor that request I wouldn’t have learned that one of my unspoken goals was to try to introduce this kind of music to people. I did not, and do not, wish to become a jukebox of popular music. There are people that are already doing that and they are leagues better at it than I would ever be. They have the required interest in those tunes, and I don’t. That sounds a little negative but I don’t mean it that way. It’s a recognition that I simply couldn’t do something well and I should be transparent about that.
People Will Talk to You
Even if they aren’t going to pay attention to the music afterwards, they still want to stop by and talk to the musician. This is, frankly, great! It’s an opportunity to meet new people, shoot the breeze about music, build some bridges, etc…. I started to see it as part and parcel of building a music scene. For a few people I am now The Guitarist and they wanted to stop by and see what I was up to.
If I am to be ultimately cynical for a moment, I recognize that this is personally beneficial as it leads to more opportunities. I don’t want to be that cynical for more than a moment, though, because I think it was a good example of how music and musicians can cultivate a good community.
You Don’t Have to Be The Best
I’m a long way from the best guitarist. I have confidence in my skills, such as they are, and I know I can play music that people will enjoy. I’m not the most technically proficient nor do I have the deepest knowledge of jazz standards and classical repertoire.
It turns out that people don’t care much about that. Even simple stuff executed well is pleasant. There is temptation, as a musician, to compare yourself to whoever your pantheon of Greats happens to be. I know I do! It gives me something to strive for but if I waited until I was as good as I perceive them to be I wouldn’t ever perform.
Chords Are Music, Too
Sometimes, just to give myself a break, I would drastically simplify what I was playing and just let some chords breathe. I’d give them some space, while still implying the rhythm and making the changes. You can get quite a bit of mileage from that.
Rhythmic, Tonal, and Dynamic Variation Are Useful
As a solo guitarist I only have so many tools in my box. I have to employ those tools lest every song start sounding the same. I tend to want what I play to swing, but there are myriad ways to communicate the swing rhythm. My classical guitar studies really drilled into me the idea that the guitar has a wide tonal palette and I try to deploy that even on the non-nylon instruments. Also, playing around with accents and volume helps quite a bit.
I would rate these skills higher than having extreme technical proficiency and arcane harmonic knowledge.
“Do You Sing?”
Even though I’m not going to take every request at face value, I have been asked this question often enough that I think I should pay attention to the trend. People seem to like singers! They seem to want me to be one, too. I am amenable to this! A bunch of the tunes I play regularly have lyrics, anyhow.
I suppose I have to overcome the crippling insecurity I feel around singing. I already did it for my guitar playing, so how hard can it be?
Performance Helps You Improve
My playing has gotten dramatically better. I practice with a greater degree of focus and with greater consistency when I know I have a gig on the calendar because I want to represent myself favorably.
Practice is a laboratory, though. Some things work out pretty well in laboratory conditions and you can’t duplicate them in the world. You find out what those things are very quickly and you either cut them out entirely or you bring them back and work on them in light of new information.
These gigs also tend to be longer. Two or three hours has been common for me. I’ve noticed that there is some sort of heightened state of musical awareness I can achieve when I’ve been playing, intently, for about 45 minutes. I start to make new connections, I spontaneously find different ways to play something, I see similarities between songs and chord progressions, etc…. Sometimes it’s hard for me to set aside a cool three hours to practice when I’m at home because I have things to do, dishes to wash, dogs to walk, etc…. A three hour gig, on the other hand, wipes all that off my slate and lets me concentrate in a unique way.
Closing Remarks
These cannot possibly be the only lessons to take away but they do represent a summary of a few years of this work. I might expand on some of these, as the opportunity presents itself. I might concoct another article in this vein in a few years after, ideally, an additional slew of gigs.
Most of all, if you are thinking about trying to get out there and do something similar, just you and a guitar, I would wholeheartedly encourage it. I would not give up these experiences for the world.
(Once again, an assurance that I feel is simultaneously necessary and awful at the time of this writing, I did not produce this with the aid (hinderance?) of an LLM. No AI. I’m just a guitar AND writing nerd. I want to be pretty clear about calling this out, hopefully you understand!)
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