“When South American Fans Started Singing My Guitar Solos, Everything Changed”- Steve Stevens Reveals Why Most Guitarists Miss the Point

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How you doing, Steve?

I'm good. How are you?

I'm fantastic. Thank you for your time. So, I understand this year is incredibly momentous for you. I see that you're going to be on a Rock Walk in Hollywood, and there's also an induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and there's some other stuff going on with your guitars. But just to start with the Rock Hall of Fame and the Rock Walk — what does that mean for you at this time in your career?

I think it's a real testament to the partnership of myself and Billy Idol over 44 years. It's something that continues to this day — we're creative together. In the case of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, a lot of times they have to get guys together who haven't seen each other in decades. They'll honour a band where the guys broke up long ago, and it's great that that's not the case with us. We continue to work together and create new music together. It's all about the songs, it's all about the music, and I think we have stuff that still counts in people's lives.

That's a long relationship — a working partnership, writing songs, with all the trials and tribulations of that. To stay together and keep that going — what do you think has been the testament to keeping that relationship alive throughout those years? What keeps you both hooked?

Mutual respect. We really enjoy what we do, whether it's on stage or in the studio. For me, I have the best seat in the house for a Billy Idol show. He's the real deal — he's an incredible showman and performer, and it's for real. Nothing is scripted. We've never been a band that puts on some sort of fake thing. I think we've gotten much better at what we do, so we continue to be better performers and also better songwriters. It's fun. It's good fun. And why not keep it going? If you enjoy what you're doing — I don't know who it was that said if you find something you love, you'll never work a day in your life — but it really is like that.

So how has the process evolved for you? When you first met Billy, it sounds like there's a mutual partnership where you both fill a gap for each other and create great songs. How has the songwriting process changed from, say, back in the 80s versus as recently as your 2005 album?

I'm a firm believer that great bands and partnerships are built on people who bring different strengths to the table. In the case of our classic records, we had a producer who came from the dance world — Keith Forsey. He did Donna Summer records with Giorgio Moroder and was a dance guy, so we had the grooves, we had that element of influence from Keith. Then you had Billy, who made his career in England in a punk rock band, but when I got to know him I realised he loved The Doors and Creedence and all this great classic American rock and roll — Velvet Underground, New York Dolls, all that kind of stuff. Even listening back now to the first Generation X record, when you hear things like "Kiss Me Deadly," which is almost Springsteen-esque in a sense — I think the punk thing is more about the era he came from. The fashion and the look are definitely from punk, but when we got together to work, we didn't limit ourselves to writing three-chord punk rock songs. It was: let's see where our imagination can take us. We both grew up on the Beatles, and the Beatles were four guys who brought different things — you had George, who had all this Eastern influence; John, who was a real roots rock and roll guy; and Paul McCartney, who had elaborate chord voicings. That's what made the Beatles what they were. I think that's the blueprint for what we do: bring in all these different elements and make it interesting, and not limit ourselves.

Did you find that Billy brought out aspects of your own guitar playing, or introduced you to new aspects of it? Just as a partnership, did it take you out of certain comfort zones? Do you remember anything like that initially, or did it just happen naturally?

It was at times challenging, but I think it's a good lesson for guitarists. Usually it might be the record producer who is able to look at what a guitarist does, zero in on it, find the best elements, and get rid of the extraneous stuff that doesn't really matter. A great example: I'd play a guitar solo, and Billy would say, "That's freaking great," and it would be my first take — warts and all, mistakes and everything. I'd say, "Oh, I can do it better," and after about the eighth take, Billy would say, "Let's listen to that first one again." And it really was the best one. What it afforded me was such an identifiable character and voice — a guy who allowed my guitar to be easily identifiable. We spent a lot of time going to see bands. He'd take me to see The Cramps, or Suicide, or play me Siouxsie and the Banshees, which I came to love — John McGeogh's guitar playing. Sometimes my other guitar player friends would be like, "The Cramps? That guy can hardly play guitar." But that's not the point. Sometimes, as a guitar player, you become so proficient on the instrument that you forget how to play things that make people who don't play guitar excited about it. And that's Keith Richards right there. I think Billy was able to help me develop a voice and a style uniquely my own.

But that's also to your own credit as well. I mean, you're on a Rock Walk of Fame outside Guitar Center. Not to put too fine a point on it — myself included — everyone has attempted "White Wedding" and all those classic riffs, and even the "Dirty Diana" stuff. These are moments people remember, and they become influential. Do you find that those things just felt like part of you, and other people — like Billy — were reflecting back to you, "Ah, that's the thing you do, Steve"? Or were there things where you felt, "No, this is my thing"?

When you're in a room with somebody, as a guitar player, you want to play something that they're going to react to, that they're going to get excited about. I've got a lot of those things in my arsenal that I can interject into a song. It really comes down to: you sit in a room, you've got a couple of guitars, Billy's got some lyrics and a melody, and you think, "What is he trying to say here? I'm getting a feeling about certain things." It's like chess — "Hey, check this out. Checkmate." But I will tell you a really valuable lesson I learned: when we started touring in South America, the fans there started to sing my guitar solos. I realised you really have to have melody in your guitar solos. If I'm just shredding, I don't get that participation — but when they start singing the melodies of the solos, it's a really good reminder to always play stuff that gives the listener a way to participate. Then do some technical flourishes, but don't make it all about technique.

Godin ACS Nylon Steve Stevens 25th Anniversary Signature Model

I was going to say that some of your iconic solos have those moments that grab the listener. Any great guitar player through history has those memorable hooks. Is that something you've always been conscious of? You mentioned the Beatles, who are of course highly influential in terms of structure, writing, and melody. As a guitar player, has melody always been important to you? I'm also curious about your influences, because I'd like to talk in a minute about the Godin Flamenco nylon string guitar and Fluence — it sounds like you've got a very diverse range going on.

Really eclectic, strange. I'm 67 now. When I got my first guitar it was all about folk music. People don't realise how massive the folk guitar boom was in the United States — James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, Crosby Stills and Nash. As I got more proficient on folk, I started to listen to guys like Leo Kottke and John Fahey. I got my first guitar when I was about seven and a half, and I didn't get an electric guitar until I was 13, so all that time was spent playing folk. Then my first real guitar teacher who meant something to me was a flamenco guitarist. I went to see some flamenco musicians — I didn't know what it was called, but it was fiery, and there were beautiful women dancing. The thing that stuck with me was: if you're going to have technical ability and show flash, make it entertaining. When I got my first electric guitar, I was really influenced by a lot of the progressive rock guitar players. My first real show was seeing Keith Emerson — Emerson, Lake and Palmer. Keith was technically incredible, but he was such a showman; he made it enjoyable and presented it almost like Jimi Hendrix. That stuck with me: make it fun, make it enjoyable, rather than just playing a series of notes that only guitar players are going to appreciate. The early progressive guitar players were important to me because they included all different styles of guitar — classical, like Steve Hackett or Robert Fripp, who was using loops and things like that. Even Jimmy Page, with the whole acoustic side of Led Zeppelin. I really gravitated towards these guys who painted with colours, as opposed to, say, an Eric Clapton — who is brilliant, but it's basically one guitar part throughout the song. Those were the foundations of my playing. Then, obviously, in New York, I went to the Fame school — the High School of Performing Arts — just as CBGB was starting to get going. One of my classmates brought me to see the Heartbreakers, Johnny Thunders, and there was all this excitement about what was going on down there. Robert Fripp had moved to New York and was hanging with Chris Stein from Blondie. It seemed like there was a resurgence — a getting back to what was exciting about guitar, because everything goes in cycles. Some of the prog bands really peaked around '73 and then kind of got stale, almost untouchable. Then you get this impetus of new wave and punk, where people feel they can do it themselves. I've never been stuck in one thing; I've always been open to new ways of developing the guitar and developing my musicality.

It's interesting — you were in that punk and more alternative music scene at the height of those scenes, developing as a player, but you've also got the prog background. From one viewpoint, maybe to someone who wasn't there, you might think: okay, there's a lot of prog that gets very serious about itself — very navel-gazing. And I love it — I'm not dissing it — but the excitement and the punk energy is kind of been put in there as well.

That's right. When I first heard the Ramones, it sounded to me like they wanted to play "Communication Breakdown" by Led Zeppelin — it had that energy. If you look at early Led Zeppelin footage, there's something pretty punk rock about it. Page was all about that punk energy in his guitar playing. But you have to be careful of becoming so good that you're no longer playing things that are exciting. It can become too technical — it becomes all about the technique, and you forget, "Oh, we better have a good song behind it." I think that's what I was able to do with Billy. When we first got together, we listened to a lot of Lou Reed, Creedence, The Doors, and it was like: we just need to write good songs and make sure the guitar fits the song.

Billy's done a great thing with you, where you feature almost as your own voice — he's upfront on vocals, but you're there, you have your own voice, because of that background. There are lots of great players who kind of just disappear into the mix, but you're featuring — not in a way that's taking over, but it has its moments and it comes in and out. For the younger generation of guitarists coming up now, with social media and how guitar has changed since those times — you've talked about writing great songs first and foremost — how have you seen things change in terms of the guitar world and the songwriting world from your perspective?

People will send me links to YouTube clips of amazing guitar players. Technically, some of the younger players can do things we couldn't even imagine doing. But once again, it has to be part of something. I think there's been a lot of cool stuff coming out of the acoustic side of things — like the Brazilian guitar player Yamandú Costa, who plays a seven-string combination of flamenco and Brazilian styles. What he's doing is really exciting. On the electric side, Matteo Mancuso — the Italian kid — is revolutionary. What would be really cool is if he guested on a pop record, so he could present that to the masses in the context of a song. Al Di Meola once said it's great that other guitar players appreciate what you do, but wouldn't it be great to be recognised worldwide? When Paco de Lucía guested on a Bryan Adams song, it opened up the world — people went, "Wow, what is that?" They didn't even know what flamenco guitar was. I remember when Fusion Jazz Rock came out — people don't realise how many millions of records Return to Forever, Mahavishnu Orchestra, and Weather Report sold. These were big records, but they were listenable. Same with Jeff Beck when he did Blow by Blow and Wired — it didn't matter whether you played guitar. You could put that on for somebody who didn't care about guitar and they'd go, "Wow, that's great."

That reminds me — as a guitarist myself, I've witnessed people in crowds where you can be playing the technical thing and it's just over their heads. But as soon as you hit something recognisable, or create a powerful sound, they go, "That's the sound of a guitar." And then it changes everything.

There's a place for the super technical stuff. Guthrie Govan — if you've seen those clips of him with Hans Zimmer — it's presented in such a way that the technique is blindingly good, but what's coming out is just sonically so interesting.

I heard an interview with Paco de Lucía talking about how he had strenuous practice as a flamenco player, very schooled, but the technique is there so you forget it and transcend it — what comes out is from the heart rather than from the brain. That's what we want as musicians, right? To have that barrier removed. But then with the punk thing, sometimes that barrier is also what creates the individual. You've got your identifiable sound. I wouldn't mind talking about that process for you as Steve Stevens. What things do you gravitate towards generally? I know you're playing these nylon string guitars on some performances — what are the choices that you find help you do your job best?

Early on, what I stumbled upon was the guitar style I showcased on "White Wedding." That was the first time I had that kind of syncopated guitar thing — it happens in the second verse. That came from Billy and I going to see the duo Suicide; the keyboard player was doing these syncopated things, and I knew Billy really liked that. I said, "Oh, I could do stuff like that," and that was the launch pad. "White Wedding" led to "Rebel Yell" — that syncopated independent guitar part which doesn't follow the bass. I always try to get the root note of the melody that the singer is singing and have that as part of my chord voicing, while letting the bass establish the chord changes. I can have this staccato part that's independent — it's a hard thing to describe, but I'm very aware of the melody, I interject that melody into my chord, I create a rhythm independent of the drums and bass, and I let the guitar stand on its own that way. That creates an arrangement where the sum of the parts is much more than the individual instruments. That's a kind of weird way to describe it, but that is my style.

I get that. It sounds more like composition — like writing music. It sounds like you think like an arranger rather than a guitarist. You're listening to the whole piece, and your role within it — and perhaps when you take the guitar riff out it stands on its own, but when it goes back in, the whole picture comes into focus.

Absolutely. Support the melody — that is key above all else. I've worked with so many amazing singers: Billy Idol, Michael Jackson, Robert Palmer. The thing that always made them happy about my collaboration is that I enhance the melody. As long as you do that as a guitar player, all the other stuff is really the icing on the cake. Work towards that melody, and also learn the lyrics. What's the song about? Is it melancholy? Is it aggressive? Is it angry? Is it sad? Is it loving? Is it hateful? All of those human emotions can be channelled through the guitar.

So that's an important part — it probably feels natural, but it's always at the back of your mind when working with these artists. It's not about, "There's a track and I'm going to put guitar on top of it" — it's more of a relational thing.

Yes. And I think singers really respond to that, because you're showing them: I care about what you're singing about, and I care about working towards making you the best that you can be.

I have to ask about the Michael Jackson thing — and even the Robert Palmer thing. After having such a strong writing relationship with Billy, going into a situation like that — let's take Michael Jackson — what was the difference? What was that experience like, and in what ways was it different or the same?

I expected it to be very different. I'm not a session guitar player, and when we did the Billy Idol records it was usually myself, Billy, our producer Keith, and an engineer in the studio. So I was thinking, flying out to Los Angeles to do the session for "Dirty Diana," it's going to be this huge entourage, the monkey is going to be going crazy, all these people — how am I going to be able to focus? But I opened the studio door and it was exactly the same as an Idol session: Quincy Jones, Michael Jackson, and the engineer, Bruce. I thought, "Oh, I'm right at home." Quincy was fun. I was a fan of his scoring work — he had done the score for a film I loved called The Pawnbroker — and I mentioned that to him. He looked at me and said, "How do you know that?" I said, "Well, I love film scores. I've always taken a lot of inspiration from film scores since I was a kid." I think he understood that I wasn't just some metal guitar player in there to noodle away. The original version of "Dirty Diana" was about nine minutes long. We established the rhythm guitar part and the big riff, and Michael was really on me to make sure I had all the pauses, because there's an important pause in the riff. He wanted to make sure I understood how important that space was — kind of like Miles Davis: what you don't play is as important as what you do play. After that, they said, "Go in and do what you want — play solos, have at it." Once the edited version was done for the album, Michael really liked all the sonic, space-age effects and things. I gave them more than enough, and I was pretty happy with what they chose to use.

Did you get to hear the edit? Because those sessions are legendary, especially for guitar players of this generation. To have a session like that would be a rare thing these days — going into a studio with an artist and a producer sitting there directing takes. What happens after that? Do you get sent anything, or is it just the album gets released?

I did the video with Michael about two or three months after that, and I think that was the first time I got to hear the finished, edited version — because it was before the album came out, they had to have all the videos done, so that was the first time I heard that version.

So with that being said, the session work has happened because of your artistry. You haven't gone out to the world as a session player, but you've been hired for your individual sound — which is what we all aspire to. We want to be hired because of who we are, not because we can sound like somebody else.

I'm intrigued by the flamenco side of things. I'd like to bring us back to the Godin Guitars and Guitar Interactive. We do a lot of guitar reviews, so I'm hoping you don't mind me asking about the 25-year anniversary guitar you have, your relationship with that particular design — the Multi-Oud, I believe — and how that's been influential for you as a guitar player.

Sure. I did a record with Vince Neil, the singer from Mötley Crüe, and after we did the record we went out and supported Van Halen for about six weeks, which was incredible. I was already friends with Eddie, and that band at that time was on fire — just incredible. I watched them every night. We did a pretty damn good record with Vince; Ron Nevison was our producer, and I looked at it as an extension of the Dr. Feelgood record — definitely in that ballpark. But of course, as you can imagine, everything you've heard about Mötley Crüe is true — the excesses and everything. Me and Eddie Van Halen enjoyed ourselves on the road a great deal. When the tour finished, I had to reevaluate why I was playing this instrument I'd started on when I was barely eight years old. I needed to get back to the excitement of why I'm doing this, and for me that was flamenco guitar — because that was the first teacher I really respected and really wanted to learn from. So I decided to do a nylon string guitar record. I'd also gotten my first Pro Tools rig and was interested in beats — I was listening to things like Propellerheads, Chemical Brothers, Massive Attack — and I wanted to combine those two elements. I'd read somewhere that Godin made a nylon string guitar that tracked MIDI, so I went to the NAMM show, sought out Godin, met Robert Godin, and said, "Hi, I'm Steve Stevens, and I'd love to try one of these guitars. I heard it tracks MIDI." He said, "Yeah, nylon strings work really great for MIDI because there are no overtones — the pickup is very pure." They sent me one of the guitars, I got one of the early Roland guitar synths, and I realised I could get my note information into the computer. At that time I was using Logic, and I'm a terrible keyboard player, but I could now get the note information through the guitar into the computer. That started a really great working relationship with Godin, and I've been with them ever since — 25 years later. The Multi-Oud was the first guitar I got from them. They approached me: "Let's celebrate this 25-year partnership. What would you like to do that's not in the production line?" I said, "We've got to make it flashier — let's make it purple. Still beautiful wood grain, but all of my classical and flamenco instruments are high-gloss lacquer, and they weren't doing a high-gloss neck, so let's do that. Can we do purple tuning pegs? Sure, let's find them." I'm also a really aggressive player on the nylon, and I found I was distorting the preamp. I said, "Let's match the transducers to their new preamp perfectly so I cannot distort this guitar." We nailed that — the guitar will not distort; it's super clean, high fidelity. And I said, "I don't want my name on the front of the guitar. It's okay if we put it on the back. Let's just put my logo — this kind of sci-fi toy rake thing." And then: "Can we make a custom case for it?" It's all black, but when you open it up it's a beautiful purple plush. Even the hardware is all jet black. So it's a nylon string guitar that I think appeals to rock guitar players — which is exactly what I am. I think we really hit it out of the park. It's a beautiful guitar, and if I saw it in the store, I'd buy it. I don't care whose name is on it — I think it's a fantastic instrument.