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September
2004
UK-Based American, Preston Reed, has been
hailed as the best acoustic guitarist in
the world. And, on the evidence of this
outstanding solo concert, it would be hard
to disagree.
A genial giant with a mop of
shoulder-length hair, he captivated the
audience with his amalgam of blues,
country and rock and a technique that had
to be seen to be believed. Bringing his
left hand over as well as under the neck
of his instrument, he was able to create
sonic and rhythmic effects which at times
simulated the sound of a whole band. This
gave his music texture, colour and
variety, enhanced by the use of no fewer
than six different guitars. Among the more
reflective pieces, Love In The Old
Country, with its flavour of rural Italy,
was especially well received, though the
delicate, bittersweet False Spring was no
less impressive. But Reed's methods were
at their most spectacular in quick-fire
numbers like Shinkansen, dedicated to
Japan's high speed train, and Tractor Pull
in which his wizardry reached its
peak.
He went electric for part of the second
set, strapping on a Strat for the Johnny
Cash tribute, Twang Thang, and a
semi-acoustic for the jazz tinged, Chord
Melody.
Reed's unassuming manner and wry sense of
humour also won him many friends and the
three encores reflected what was an
impeccable performance by a major musical
talent.
Preston Reed Live @ RNCM
Five Stars
Manchester Evening News (September 04)
by Steve Millward
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May / June
2004
If we had an album of the month section
this would be my nomination. It features
the excellent acoustic guitar work of
Reed, and it is truly outstanding. He
draws on a variety of styles, from the
blues, rock, funk and jazz, which he then
distils into a great tapestry of his own
style. Often referred to as an acoustic
Hendrix, I think a suitable comparison
would be with Grodon Giltrap, with the
emphasis shifted from Gordon's Englishness
to an American tradition. Using an almost
piano like approach he draws sounds from
his entire instrument, including using the
guitars body for percussive effect. It's
hard to point to a highlight, but "Tractor
Pull" may just edge it as it is a piece of
amazingly dextrous ability. He draws great
compliments from a variety of
commentators, and it is very easy to hear
why. If you like acoustic guitar you
should love this!
-Bernard Law JRS
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Pizza Express Jazz Club, Soho
Of all the publicity shots you're likely
to see. Preston Reed's is the best. His
hands and his shoulder length hair are
caught flying wildly around a guitar
fretboard like seagulls in a gale. It's an
arresting image and the reality is no
disappointment. An imposing figure, well
over six foot tall, this upstate New
Yorker has developed a strikingly physical
and original technique for solo
guitar.
Its basis is rhythm. His right had
alternately slaps the guitar's neck and
body like conga drums, while the left -
and here's the unique part - either taps
the strings from above, Stanley
Jordan-style, or swoops under the neck to
finger them conventionally. Equally
unorthodox is his tuning (anorak note:
from bottom to top it's C-G-D-G-G-D),
which enables rich open chords to ring
behind his single-string line.
He claims jazz, blues and rock influences,
but in performance these were peripheral
and subservient to the needs of his
technique. The results were stimulating
and often beautiful.
The drawbacks are having to work alone and
play only originals, but the jazz police
are lenient on pioneers who push the
technical envelope, and Reed certainly
does this. He's the undisputed leader in a
class of one.
In a Class of His Own
London Evening Standard
by Jack Massarik
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The Hub,
Dublin
One popular misconception about virtuoso
guitarists is that these men keep their
hair long because it may be considered
acceptable, or even desirable. This is not
true. Guitarists wear their hair long
because it is the source of all their
power.
Witness Preston Reed, perhaps the most
awesome exponent of giddying solo guitar
and wittily unorthodox methods, tossing
his Samsonite silver tresses over one
shoulder before surging into Ladies
Night.
It may be the most ironic title with which
to treat his small, faithful and
predominantly male following.
As Reed hammers and pinches the strings,
both hands curled above the fretboard like
a busy concert pianist or an over-worked
typist, in the tiny slivers between notes
he pads out a brisk beat on the body of
his Ovation guitar.
This extraordinary Scotland-based,
American guitarist is not so much listened
to, as watched intently. It's easy to
understand why. The audience bears all the
tell-tale signs - slightly longer
fingernails on one hand, calloused
fingertips on the other, picks warm in
their wallets. "Are you enjoying
yourselves?" says Reed, and he's right to
ask. Heads do not nod, feet do not tap,
chins are contemplatively pinched. They
roar their approval of course, but they
are here, it seems, for musicianship
rather than music.
This is a shame, not only because Reed's
fiendishly intricate blend of blues, rock,
country and metal styles ducks and weaves
itself away from measurability, but also
because he has nothing to teach us. If you
already know why to coo at a Fender Strat,
or giggle at a hollow-bodied Gibson, you
are too corrupted to be Reed's
apprentice.
Beguiled instead by the shifting blues of
Night Ride or the plangent progression of
False Spring; braced besides by the fleshy
power of Overture or the odd caress of
Franzl's Saw, Reed's blurry frets begin to
dissolve from view. Grow your hair. Shut
your eyes. Listen.
The Irish Times
by Peter Cawley
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July 2004
To say that Preston Reed is a one-man band
wouldn't even be getting close to a
description of his talents. He is a
one-man symphony orchestra. Handwritten
Notes is a collection of original tracks
for acoustic guitar written and performed
solely by Preston but you could be
forgiven for thinking that at least three
more musicians had slipped craftily into
the studio to swell the fabulous sound.
And not content with playing the guitar as
if he had ten fingers on each hand,
Preston accompanies himself with inspired
rhythm by attacking the fretboard with
both fists (or could it be his feet?).
Awesome guitar-playing apart, what makes
this album so magical is its depth of
experience. Each track is more than just a
random tune. It is a story in itself with
a potent, cinematic atmosphere and an
almost tangible thread of communication
between Preston Reed and the listener.
- Serious About Music
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July 2004
World renowned acoustic guitarist Preston
Reed, whose idol is piano great Bill
Evans, produces an amazing 14-track set on
this disc and, at times, sounds like a
one-man band by slapping and punching his
instrument while playing high notes to
accompany the lower melody.
He has been called a phenomenon and his
creativity likened to Jimi Hendrix but
Preston plays without a head full of
chemical inspiration and, as he says, he
communicates with the world through his
music.
If any odious comparison should be made,
he is more like the Paul Simon of the
acoustic guitar. In fact, one or two
numbers might well influence Simon to add
lyrics.
In the main, this is a virtuoso
performance by the pony-tailed American
who is now living in Scotland covering
jazz, blues and rock with even a hint of
skiffle! Well, he did start off playing
the ukulele.
All the tracks are quite hypnotic and the
disc's 56 minutes is over in a flash. The
outstanding track for this listener is
Quintana Roo on which his full bag of
tricks is demonstrated to the full.
- EuroClub de Jazz
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April 2004
Guitar ace Preston Reed knows his way up
and down a fretboard like few others.
This American currently living in
Scotland, demonstrates his considerable
skills on latest outing Handwritten Notes
(Outer Bridge Records).He's shared stages
with everyone from Beat poet Alan Ginsberg
to blues guitarist Bonnie Raitt, recorded
14 albums and contributed to various film
soundtracks.
Likened to Hendrix for his amazing
creativity, Reed attacks the fretboard
like a piano awnd uses the body of his
guitar as a percussion instrument,
creating a rich stew of blues, jazz, rock
and funk, all with the most individual of
stamps.
Herald Observer
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Preston
Reed plays guitar. Big deal. Except,
no-one on the planet can play the guitar
quite like Preston Reed. He's a little out
of the ordinary.
Most people play guitar by strumming. Reed
can do that. Most people play chords. Reed
can do that too. Some play tunes or
basslines. Reed can do all that. The thing
is, Reed does all these things
simultaneously. Not too many people can do
that.
Last night, a hundred or so people
gathered in the Queen's Hall to worship at
the fingers of a very long-haired guitar
guru who played breathtaking,
heartbreaking tunes effortlessly. Humble
and unassuming, Reed didn't play a single
note wrong.
Tapping and hammering and slapping at the
body of his guitar, he became a one-man
orchestra - one moment playing haunting
melodies like Stonecutter, the next, fat
rhythmic tunes like Slap Funk. Tunes such
as Border Towns and Far Horizons suggest a
man whose music comes from afar and has
taken him to many distant shores. He is,
after all, American and his influences are
as diverse as country and heavy metal, but
there is also more than a touch of the
Celt about this huge, painfully shy
man.
It comes through in his music, thumping
rhythms suggest the pure funk of
Parliament while gentler melodies evoke
the warm sounds of Enya and her ilk.
The tiny audience didn't care, however.
They knew Reed and the sounds he could
produce by battering or caressing any one
of his four guitars. Reed now lives in
Scotland. It would be a great shame if
tiny audiences drove him back to his
native land. His isn't, after all, an
American sound. It is the sound of pure
music.
Preston Reed, Queen's Hall ****
by Martin Lenon
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2003
This CD is irresistible. The rhythms in
this collection of guitar instrumentals
are too infectious to ignore. Listeners
will find their shoulders shaking, their
torsos bobbing and weaving and their hands
will be uncontrollably slapping anything
in reach, in time with each composition.
The faster, upbeat and more percussive
numbers throughout the album are offset
with slower, introspective ones to allow
the listener to catch his/her breath.
Not long ago, Preston encountered a
college student who posed the idea, after
hearing him, that he (Preston) is an
alien, of the extraterrestrial variety. No
earthling could possibly be this good. I,
myself, began to wonder if this argument
might have some merit. A cyborg, at least?
This guy has to have a metronome built in
there somewhere. With all the switches
from rapid-fire strumming, to trademark
fret-popping, to vicious turnarounds and
back, he misses NOT ONE beat, ever.
The first track, "Night Ride" starts out
with a bluesy riff featuring some lazily
bent notes. It reels you in nice and slow.
No need to hit you over the head with the
entire arsenal immediately. About halfway
through, the percussive fingerpopping
begins and kicks into a kind of warp speed
with some flashes of strumming dropped in.
By its end you inhale and come up for air
in the intervening empty space while
waiting for what comes next.
What comes next is a sweetly swaying
melody, perfect for it's namesake,
"Gianiana". It's easy to picture the
object of its insprationto be a graceful,
extremely attractive woman. This is
followed by "First Summer Without You," a
melancholy jazz-infused piece, easily
conjuring up the loneliness following a
loss."Tractor pull" kicks the groove into
high gear again. It sounds like two hearts
racing in tandem, as the hammer-ons keep
the notes flying almost faster than we can
take them in. "Crossing Open Water" rolls
softly, gently, like its name suggests, a
relaxing respite from the
trip-hammer-speed of the preceding
composition.
The rest of the CD continues along an
ever-varying path, steering away from a
cold display of guitar pyrotechics with an
innate passion.
Acoustic Live in New York City and Beyond
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June/July 2001
Fifty-six minutes of original instrumental
guitar from a very creative composer.
Blending and bending textures and
influences, Reed offers thoughtful and
thought-provoking musical vignettes that
offer more with each listening. Tempo and
tone range from reflective to funky as
Reed challenges himself and the listener
by telling stories without words.
- Dirty Linen Magazine
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5 December 2000
Chicago Reader
by David Whiteis
Acoustic guitarist Preston Reed practices
a flamboyant "self-invented" style,
characterized by percussive techniques and
simultaneous rhythm and melody lines that
dance and ricochet around each other. He
has precise, note-by-note control of his
timbre, whether hammering on the fretboard
with both hands, fingerpicking, or
blending the two in a deft, contrapuntal
dialogue that flickers between a dry
pizzicato and deep, chimelike resonance.
And in the spaces between notes, he
sometimes thumps, knocks, and taps on the
instrument's body, creating layered
patterns that can mimic a hand drum or a
full trap kit.
The most impressive thing about Reed's
technique, though, is that it doesn't draw
attention to itself -- though his current
CD, the self-released Handwritten Notes,
is a series of instrumentals for solo
steel-string guitar, they're far from
abstract virtuosic displays; even without
lyrics he creates vivid, engrossing
scenes. Sometimes the effect is almost
onomatopoetic: on "Tractor Pull" he begins
with muted, churning low-end patterns,
then climbs into the upper registers,
throwing off brilliant harmonics that
glisten like droplets of water -- you can
almost see a souped-up truck spinning its
wheels in the mud. At other times he
communicates more metaphorically:
"Crossing Open Water," unsurprisingly, is
a graceful, undulating piece, but Reed
doesn't just drift along; instead he makes
a series of purposeful changes in tempo,
tone, and density, like a sailing ship
tacking against the wind. "The Groove Is
Real" alternates choppy chords and guitar
slaps with fingerpicked passages that boil
and billow like thunderheads, segueing so
smoothly and rapidly that the two seem to
overlap - the punchy rhythms echo in your
head even after he's switched to the lead
parts. And "After a Rain," played entirely
on the neck, weaves together so many
independent patterns that I can't isolate
them all -- you get the feeling that, were
it physically possible, he'd play a
separate line with each finger.
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