An Appreciation of Pat Metheny

Guitar Miracles

I consider the music and life story of Pat Metheny to be one of the minor miracles of this musical age.

I’m told that in his mid-teens, at gigs in Kansas City, Pat had already imbibed the sounds of Wes Montgomery and Pat Martino, demonstrating a deep sense of the jazz repertoire and tossing off blazing bebop lines. By the age of 19 he had demonstrated that college was essentially useless to him, as he already played better than virtually every teacher. By the age of 21 he recorded one of the most important guitar records of our time, “Bright Size Life,” with two of the seminal rhythm section players of our time, Bob Moses and Jaco Pastorius.

Having already established a highly original sound in his debut recording, which for most people would have been “it,” he decided that that wasn’t enough. He wanted to change music, not just the guitar. He went on to build a set of compositions, and a series of groups, an approach to sound and orchestration that influenced the sound of modern jazz. All the while he demonstrated, anytime he felt like it, that he could play straight ahead, meaning the foundational language of jazz, about as well as anybody on the planet.

You can’t help but ask – how does this happen?

Some people know who they are, and what they are put on earth to do, from a very early age. Some people are just plain gifted. Devoted.

We have many technicians, but few visionaries. We have many guitarists who write their own material, but very few whose compositions are played by millions of people. We have many “eclectic” guitar players, but few who have written radio hits and also put out an album of solo noise music dedicated to Derek Bailey. This is not to suggest that Pat “does everything.” What he does to is completely be Pat Metheny. Which is a lot.

A sidenote—before my friend Drew Zingg joined Steely Dan in the early 90s, he shared with me that Donald Fagen and Walter Becker had first asked Metheny to occupy the chair. I’m sure Metheny loved Steely Dan. But Pat told them that he didn’t feel like he could really do the job right, that as a rhythm player he didn’t have those kind of chops. Interesting, huh? I admit, I kind of wish they had made one record together!

One of my favorite moments in the conversation I had with him on stage in 2017, when Alt Guitar Summit celebrated his work, was when we talked about triads. The triad is a guitarist’s best friend. Any folk tune that we play involves triads, that simple open sound that is at the heart of American roots music. A small but important breakthrough for Pat was deciding that it was OK to use triads in jazz music. I know that sounds like a small thing. But you have to understand at the time this was really a strange concept for piano and sax players who were used to stacking complex extensions onto every chord, almost as merit badges. He would exhort them to just play the triad, no extensions. Apparently this wasn’t that easy. “No, man, no minor 9^th, just the triad!”

One of the things that makes the tune “Bright Size Life” stand out is it begins and ends with major triads— the sound of the heartland, country music. There’s a funny moment in my interview with Bill Frisell in “Guitar Talk” where he jokes about kind of being pissed off (in a friendly way) when he heard Pat the first time. Because they both were hearing music in similar ways, and Pat seemed to have arrived at certain conclusions in a public way that Bill was about to make. Bill was surprised someone else had “gotten there first.” Pat’s sound was welcome and novel back then. But let’s not forget that on the same record, where the innocent triad became a protagonist, there are some deeply complex (and moving) compositions, pieces unlike any that had come before, “Unquity Road,” “Sirabhorn.” Not to mention the amazing dynamic interplay with the rhythm section.

Let us pause for a moment to honor the brilliance of drummer Bob Moses. Bob went his own way after a while and is not associated with the type of music that was made on “Bright Size Life” anymore—but any jazz record he was on at the time was made more soulful, more creative, and more wild, by his amazing feel and approach. Bob is still one of the most original thinkers and artists on the planet.

There’s Pat Matheny the jazz guitar player. There’s Pat Metheny the arranger, the studio maven. There’s Pat Metheny the composer of short, lovely tunes, and there’s the Pat Metheny who has written epic album length pieces. There’s the 6-string, the baritone guitar, the Roland Guitar Synth, the 42-String Manzer, the nylon, the fretless. There’s the solo artist, and the guy who decided to use some kooky leviathan called “The Orchestrion,” a band in a box that he takes on the road with him. There’s the Pat Metheny Group, which was an enormous enterprise, almost like a rock band.

When last I saw Pat perform, in the trio tour he undertook a couple of years ago, what really struck me was what a show it was. In that sense he seems to still borrow a little bit from rock music. It’s a presentation, the set list appears carefully chosen, the timing of everything is just right, the drama waxes and wanes as he moves from instrument to instrument, there’s dramatic lighting. Many jazz presentations are fairly loose, chill. Not this set.

What hit me again and again as Pat played was his amazing melodic sense. I can think of few guitar players, or improvisers of any kind, who play so much melody in the midst of complex lines and changes. Everything about his music comes back to Melody—the bass lines, the chord movement. This tends to make the music absolutely gorgeous. In every set I’ve seen, though, he also makes sure to show his Ornette Coleman influence, too, there’s plenty of dissonance and controlled chaos to spice the soup. Of course, he plays the most jagged lines with a keen sense of melody, too.

Pat is a leader, pure and simple. I remember a rare time where he was a “side person” when he played with Joshua Redman, notably at the Village Vanguard. I saw two of those Vanguard shows with Redman. It was amazing watching Pat operate up close in a more traditional setting, playing rhythm changes. It made him seem both more earthbound and more unknowable. What really struck me too, was when I went to go to the bathroom during the break, he was sitting there in that little alcove by the bathroom practicing. And what he was playing was just unbelievable. Crazy leaping technical lines the likes of which I’d never heard before. I mean, who practices during the break? This is a person for whom every waking minute is devoted to a singular cause. My impression of his life is that there are two things he does. He's with his family, and he's making music. His own music. This is not a guy who goes out to play golf in the summer. Or someone who decides to go have a drink with friends at the local bar. No, that is time that could be spent furthering the music. To that end, he’s reputed to be absolutely fastidious about his records. He’ll re-record parts over and over again. But you know, James Taylor is the same way. Paul Simon, too. And the results? Brilliant.

On that note, Pat is somebody who’s never tasted alcohol. Bob Moses had funny stories about their tours in Europe, where the maître de would bring an expensive bottle of French wine out to the maestro for dinner, and Pat would wave him off. Meanwhile, Jaco and Bob would go, “Un moment, monsieur!” and then consume Pat’s share and maybe more.

Another side note: (A little known gem is Pat playing on trumpet player Cuong Vu’s record about 10 years ago. It is an amazing record. Buy it.)

There was a period when people criticized Pat Metheny for his sound. I guess I’m talking about the 90s when the whole smooth jazz movement kind of took over, putting a couple of his tunes in regular rotation. I’ve always believed it silly to look down your nose at such success. I mean, the guy has an unbelievably powerful and accomplished output of music. Are we to say that it’s wrong for someone to write some pieces that the average, non-jazz listener likes? If that’s true, then George Benson should’ve just kept playing “Billie’s Bounce” and never stepped up to a microphone. Give me a break. Around the same time Pat was employing some of the greatest drummers of all time, Roy Haynes, Billy Higgins. Do you think those jazz icons begrudged his use of chorus, or threw him some shadow because his tune “Phase Dance” had charted? Took him aside and advised him to unplug all the effects and play something different? Uhhh…no.

Pat and Lyle Mays were able to make music that normal people loved. Not just jazz aesthetes. A mix of gender and races. Some theorized he had strayed from the African-American lineage of the music. Ridiculous. A Pat Metheny show in the 90s had all kinds of African-Americans there who loved that sound. And to go back to his deep rootedness in the jazz lexicon—check out the duo of the bebop classic “Cherokee” he does with the formidable sax player Chris Potter. YIKES!

Regarding Lyle Mays, Pat’s longtime collaborator, co-writer, bandmate. Too little is known about this man’s abilities. I would love to see more written about his contributions to their band. He had his own genius. The fact that those two found each other… wow, how lucky that is. They both just seem to make the other even greater.

Something I’ve pondered from time to time is that Pat is only three years older than I. But he might as well be 30 years older for what he’s accomplished. I, like many others, took forever to find my voice. For damn sure I wasn’t playing Pat Martino licks at the age of 15, or at 21 composing Sirabhorn. This year I guess Pat turns 71. And there’s no sign that he’s letting up. God only knows what lies in store from this massively talented creator.

I’d like to close on a more personal note. Pat has made it a point to keep up to speed with what’s happening around him. He always seems to know who the latest guitar phenomenon is. Not the guy winning any awards, the person making musical breakthroughs. He gets curious. He’ll invite one of those young people over to play. How cool is that! One of the great honors I’ve received in my life was when he told me how important he felt the Alternative Guitar Summit was. I mean, he said one or two nice things about my music too, and that meant a lot to me—but his support for my endeavor with the Summit was full-throated and really meaningful. I’m sure he’s aware that people like me, we…all of us, need affirmation from our heroes.

So amongst many other reasons to be grateful to Pat Metheny, let’s add that one.

Here are five of my favorite Metheny tracks:

Last Train Home

Unquity Road

The Way Up

Everything Happens to Me/ Somewhere

Word For Bird