Alex De Grassi - The acoustic sound of dawn

It's the bittersweet fading of night into the first light of day, with that gentle flutter of hope for a new beginning while the fears of darkness haven't yet dissolved. The music of Alex De Grassi, legendary American guitarist born in 1952, is perfectly captured by the image of dawn, a moment of perfect ambiguity where the shapes of reality coexist with the shadows that cloak them, so that everything is now visible and yet the uncertainty of the dream lingers on. Armed with nothing but his acoustic guitar, from '78 to today he has built a precious discography, a bestseller back in the days of the legendary Windham Hill label founded by his cousin William Ackerman, one of the leading figures of solo guitar in the new age field. But De Grassi's career boasts a far more eclectic edge, thanks also to a technique that has become a benchmark for others, and above all to a refined compositional talent that is never an end in itself.

Alex, let's start with the present. What's your biggest musical challenge today?

I'm actually trying to figure out what the next step in my career will be. I feel I have less to say as a solo guitarist and composer of solo pieces; I'm focusing on composition and arrangement for various ensembles; I've written, performed and recorded some pieces for two guitars with Andrew York, and in recent years I've written guitar quartets for some of my students.

Listening back to a piece from 1971 like "Alpine Melody," it's clear you found full artistic maturity at a young age. But you started out as a trumpet player, if I'm not mistaken...

Yes, I learned the musical basics playing trumpet in school bands between the ages of 8 and 12, but when I started playing guitar I got the bug for learning blues songs and riffs. I'm mostly a self-taught guitarist. As a teenager, Paul Simon was a huge influence on me, as were all the musicians of the British folk revival like Bert Jansch, John Renbourn, Davey Graham and so on, along with country blues artists like Mississippi John Hurt, Lightnin' Hopkins and Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee. Then I discovered John Fahey and Leo Kottke, and that's when I started thinking about writing music for solo acoustic guitar.

Jazz is one of the fundamental elements of your style.

Actually, even though I never considered myself a jazz musician, in my twenties I was a huge jazz enthusiast and I briefly studied jazz guitar with Bill Thrasher, co-author of Joe Pass's guitar book. I absorbed a lot from him, but at the time, to be honest, I limited myself to learning just a few standards. I kept writing songs with lyrics, as well as playing Kottke and Fahey pieces. Shortly after, I started writing solo guitar pieces, and my vision was to incorporate some jazz harmonies and rhythms into those folk idioms I knew so well. Let's just say I wanted to become the Keith Jarrett of the guitar.

William (Ackerman) told me about his first concert, in Seattle, acclaimed by 3,000 people. You were also on stage that night. I want your version.

What can I tell you? As far as performing goes, I was an absolute novice, so I just remember being tremendously nervous. I played some pieces that later ended up on "Turning," and people loved them without reservation. That was the night I started dreaming of making a career in music.

What do you like about William's guitar style?

His naïve and uncontaminated approach; naïve in the sense that, as he'd tell you himself, he doesn't worry too much about the technical aspects of the instrument. He doesn't think about chords, tempo or the structure of the music: he plays and composes intuitively.

An approach that's in sharp contrast with yours.

I also wrote some of my earliest pieces that way, but perhaps I was a bit more grounded in theoretical and technical aspects, and over the years, besides intuition, I've also drawn on my ability to read and analyze the musical structures of what I was creating.

What do you remember about your life during the time of your first masterpiece, "Slow Circle"?

The album came out in '79, following the previous year's debut, "Turning." I wrote those pieces quickly and recorded everything in six hours: many are first takes that weren't touched up at all. The response from both audiences and critics was more than positive, confirming that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. It was around that time that I started supporting myself financially through concerts. A new chapter of my life had just begun, one that would take me to incredible places.

"Altiplano" is one of your most complex and evocative albums: how much of it is composition and how much improvisation?

I had just gotten back from my first trip to the Bolivian Andes, where my dear friend Ismael Saavedra had introduced me to so many interesting musicians and artists. The title track doesn't have much to do with Andean music, but rather with the feeling of euphoria I experienced living for a while at 4,000 meters of altitude, where the air is extraordinarily clear and you can see those majestic peaks from miles and miles away. I wrote the title track on piano, but then I hired some great New York session players – people like Clifford Carter, Mark Egan and Chris Parker – and afterwards I overdubbed a very simple, completely improvised guitar part. Listen to how Clifford plays piano on that track… it's wonderful! There was some improvisation on the other tracks too, but most of it is written material. I even had Zakir Hussain playing tabla! Last but not least, Steven Miller did a fantastic job recording and mixing at studios in New York and Berkeley. Rca Novus had given me a sizable budget, so I didn't hold back on expenses.

Did you ever fear that your technique might smother the emotion?

Technique has to serve the music without ever becoming an end in itself. That said, musicians sometimes need to expand their abilities in order to play the music they hear in their head. I love honing my skills, but I'm not concerned with being seen as "the fastest" or "the most complicated." The only complexity that matters to me lies in the arrangements instead.

Five essential albums for understanding the value of Windham Hill Records?

I'd focus on the 80s and on the original label, because afterwards there were some extraordinary recordings released on Windham Hill Jazz, High Street and other labels that spun off from the original one. First of all there's Will's debut, "In Search Of The Turtle's Navel", then I'd point you to Liz Story's first album, "Solid Colors", "Aerial Boundaries" by Michael Hedges, and the self-titled Shadowfax album. I'm bold enough to include one of my own titles too, the already-mentioned "Slow Circle".

In some of your compositions there's a cameo from a musician who's virtually unknown in Italy, the great lyricon player Chuck Greenberg, founder of Shadowfax.

I was introduced to him by a South African friend I met while playing in the London Underground. That was 1973. I hired Chuck to play saxophone and lyricon on "Clockwork". On that occasion he handed me a Shadowfax demo, which I passed on to Will, who promptly signed them to Windham Hill. I also played twelve-string on one of the tracks on their first album. Chuck also joined me for some of my concerts, and I played on one of his solo albums. We had a great musical rapport and he was a lot of fun to be around: I loved his sense of humor. He and guitarist G.E. Stinson wrote and arranged most of the band's material, and they both had a very eclectic musical taste, which I identified with completely.

One of your most extreme collaborations is precisely with Stinson, on the duo album "Shortwave Postcard" from 2001.

Believe it or not, the album was recorded in two days, straight in the bedroom of his apartment in Los Angeles. We used acoustic and electric guitars and played them with paintbrushes, electric toothbrushes and other household objects. I remember playing a 12-string with every pair of strings tuned to different octaves. Other times, our guitars were simply out of tune. "Shortwave Postcard" got great reviews from critics specializing in avant-garde music, but, as you can imagine, it reached a very limited number of people. Not that I mind: to me, music is whatever you want it to be, and I loved the spontaneity of the project.

Which open tunings have you used the most?

I really like tunings that don't necessarily spell out a major or minor chord: they end up being more flexible harmonically, and using a whole tone or a semitone between strings lets you get some unusual chords. At first I used EBEF#BE a lot, but that's a tuning that creates a lot of tension, so now I drop everything down a whole tone to DADEAD. I also use DADGAD and CGDGAD a lot. I've found that the latter lets me get phrasing normally used by jazz pianists. One of my favorites, though, has a minor third in it: EbGDGBbD. The first five strings form a G minor chord, but with the Eb on the bottom it sounds more like an Eb major seventh; I get some really exciting results with that one.

How has your relationship with the instrument changed over the decades?

Well, as a kid I obviously started out playing in standard tuning, but once I discovered open tunings and started experimenting with my own personal tunings, it really opened the door to composing for solo guitar. After all these years, I still use open tunings for solo pieces, while I've gone back to standard tuning for guitar duo and quartet pieces, or whenever I have to play alongside other musicians.

What about your use of the pick?

Another important change came when I stopped using a thumbpick in the early 90s: that's when I started broadening my sound by using only the flesh of my fingers. Up until then I relied on creating a kind of "depth of field" in the sound, where notes were played with varying levels of attack to create a three-dimensional sound. I still do that, but now I do it with my hand, and with it I create or enhance that effect also by damping strings and using a wider range of textures as a way to "orchestrate" the sound. If there's one defining trait of my sound, it's the intention to bring an orchestral, three-dimensional quality to life.

Who wrote the melodies that move you the most?

I think Wayne Shorter wrote and improvised some of the most beautiful melodies in contemporary music. Pretty much everything he's done is fantastic. Early in my career I was a huge fan of Weather Report and, even if it might not seem obvious, I'm convinced they had a big influence on what I compose. Brazilian guitarist/pianist Egberto Gismonti is another extraordinary melody writer. And then I love the eccentric sense of melody of Thelonious Monk. As for classical music, “The Planets” by Gustav Holst is perhaps my favorite symphony, packed as it is with fantastic melodies.

What are the mistakes a professional musician should never make?

No one is immune to mistakes: you can only hope they teach you something. I've been told, and it might be true, that I tried to diversify my formula too soon, the argument being that I'd have been more successful had I stuck to making albums like the first two that made my name. But an artist can only stay true to their own inspiration, so it's pointless trying to be something you're not. A bit like those who, dazzled by Windham Hill's success, tried to reproduce what they perceived as the label's sound. Some may have pulled it off, but most failed miserably, because their music didn't sound authentic. If you're a blues devotee but try to play "new age," it probably won't work. Conversely, even though I studied jazz, for instance, I never passed myself off as a jazz musician. Only after years of reflecting on it did I compose things through that genre.

Your opinion on the music of the never-adequately-celebrated Robbie Basho?

I was a fan of Basho, and even before Windham Hill existed I wore out one of his albums released on the Tacoma label! Along with Fahey, he was a pioneer of the acoustic guitar. I believe that, like with Will, his music too sprang intuitively from a deep place, with no attempt at artifice or analysis. And there was also a significant improvisational component to his performances. I played with him at several concerts early in my career: he'd ride in my car because he didn't have a driver's license. I remember a long overnight drive when he told me: "I was born 500 years too late and on the wrong side of the world." When I asked him what he meant, he explained that he'd have felt more at home in 15th-century Persia. He was a bit anachronistic, if you like, but totally devoted to music and his own particular way of playing. He had a truly unique vision and spirit.

Listening to “The Music Of Simon & Garfunkel” I found myself wondering what you think of Simon as a guitarist.

I was an early fan of Simon & Garfunkel and as a teenager I'd spend nights and weekends trying to work out Simon's brilliant guitar playing. Keep in mind that back then there were no sheet music or tablatures, so I learned the way people always have: I'd pick out tiny snippets of a song and force myself to imitate them. Simon had an enormous influence on my guitar playing. As I already mentioned, in '73 I spent a summer in London playing in the subway: well, my repertoire there was heavily based on his songbook.

Same question about James Taylor's guitar playing, in relation to your album “Interpretations Of James Taylor”.

Another great acoustic guitarist I discovered late; I only started seriously studying his songs while recording the album you're referring to, and that's when I realized just how skilled he is at fingerpicking. Even though Simon and Taylor became famous leaning on bands, they're both musicians who work perfectly well armed with just a guitar. One of the things I do is teach a guitar ensemble at a college near where I live, and for them I put together arrangements of "Sweet Baby James" and "Scarborough Fair": studying these songs, you realize how essential they are for any aspiring fingerpicking guitarist.

Regarding the two previous albums, how did you approach reinterpreting such well-known, and therefore tricky, songs as "You've Got A Friend" or "The Boxer"?

I'll be honest: both records were conceived as "special" albums to be sold outside the traditional record market, and the CDs were sold through "alternative" outlets like bookstores, pharmacies, zoos, museums, and so on. I made them quickly, to earn some money, and I had a limited budget and certain constraints, such as the running time, which had to fall between 3'45'' and 4', so sometimes I had to "pad out" the songs with extra elements or, conversely, take something away. I tried to make solo-guitar arrangements, but in the end, for some tracks, I recorded two tracks.

I wanted to understand how you worked on the songs specifically.

I learned the chord progressions of the original songs, the type of arpeggio, the lead vocal melody, all separately. Then I started trying to integrate these three components by working on evoking the atmosphere of the song. Years later, I arranged Jimi Hendrix's "Angel" using a similar process, and the result was very well received by audiences.

Have you ever feared you'd run out of inspiration?

Right. As I mentioned earlier, for some time now I've felt like I don't have much to say as a solo guitar composer.

What advice would you give to composers who find themselves in that situation?

I'd tell them not to be afraid to step outside their usual patterns when they feel uninspired. Go learn something new, listen to music you don't know, maybe take some lessons or try a new instrument. Some of my best ideas have come to me while messing around on piano or drums, even though I'll never be a great pianist or drummer. One of my biggest sources of inspiration right now is the ukulele! I started playing it when the pandemic hit and I was stuck at home. Well, the limitations of four strings and the instrument's fast, incisive attack made me rethink my whole approach to guitar.

What do you look for in a guitar?

As you can imagine, I own a lot of guitars, and each one serves a different purpose. Many are special guitars like baritones, the sympitar, or a high-strung, but they all fall under the same big umbrella. That said, for most recordings and performances I use the Alex De Grassi prototype model made by Lowden. It's basically their F model with maple back and sides and a Sitka spruce top, with a few small modifications, including a slightly wider, less rounded fretboard and a smaller body with the bracing scalloped a bit more. That gives me the balanced tone and good projection at low volumes that I need. It also gives my fingers a bit more room to move and makes it easier for me to play barre chords. A lot of musicians prefer rosewood or other tropical woods over maple, because they tend to produce more overtones. My approach, on the other hand, is to explore all the sounds the guitar can make, and I feel I can pull out plenty of overtones through the positioning of my picking hand and various other techniques, while still keeping the "fundamental" tones that give the sound its clarity.

The term "new age music" is still viewed with suspicion today, even though it shaped the work of major artists like Steven Halpern, Shadowfax and many others: what do you think are the deeper reasons behind that?

"Pigeonholing" music has always been a source of big debates and often irritation. I remember reading an interview with Miles Davis where he said he didn't like the term "jazz" because it was limiting and because it had been coined for the white audiences who went to clubs to watch Black musicians perform. When the first Windham Hill records showed up in record stores, the staff didn't know where to file them. After "Turning" came out, I went into a Tower Records in San Francisco and asked the clerk where they'd filed the album. He told me they'd actually been unsure where to put it, but since it was selling well, they'd stocked it in the folk section, the blues section, and even in classical. Some of my favorite tracks sit in a grey area between genres, so my CD and vinyl collection is simply organized alphabetically: Bach, Basho, Beatles, Beethoven, Bowie and so on. Defining genres for marketing purposes is a necessary evil that I don't put much stock in.

Among the collaborations of your recording career, which do you think yielded the best results in terms of creativity? An album like "Tata Monk" with the Chilean musician Quique Cruz might not be particularly well known, but it has enormous artistic value.

I'm incredibly proud of "Tatamonk". As I mentioned, I spent a period in Bolivia studying Andean folk music. When I met Quique in Berkeley, California, years later, we were both looking for ways to blend the instruments and rhythms of the Andean tradition with those of North American blues, jazz and folk. We spent a lot of time searching for common ground in rhythm and harmony to create something organic. Much of that music was arranged and composed with Quique playing charango and various native flutes while I sat at the piano writing out the scores. When we finally got into the studio, we hired some young graduates of Berklee School of Music who played jazz, and we cut the album over a couple of sessions, mostly live and in a couple of takes. Quique and I then overdubbed additional guitar and flute parts to round out the orchestration. I felt truly honored that Horacio Salinas, leader of the famous Chilean group Inti-Illimani, wrote the liner notes praising the project. The original band even played a few shows, but it was too hard to keep that many talented musicians together without the prospect of gigs with decent pay.

One current-affairs question: what's the truest portrait of the States in 2025?

Life is hard in the United States right now. For the first time in my memory, we're living under an authoritarian administration that's trying to suppress freedom of speech and deporting people without due process. My wife's British relatives cancelled the visit they had planned to see us because they don't feel welcome. Canadians have stopped buying Californian wine because they're angry at the government, and tourism is down. The truth is we have a corrupt criminal in the White House, one who breaks every rule and gets away with it. Still, I have hope that things will change once the people who supported this president realize they made a huge mistake.

The greatest gift life has given you?

Letting me devote myself full-time to my greatest passion and, no easy feat, turning it into a living. How could I not feel lucky about that?

What's the best part of being an artist?

I get to reflect the world around me through music, a goal I've chased since I was a kid. Add to that the fact that I'm always the one deciding what I want to play, and that I can go live pretty much anywhere I please. As a child I dreamed of becoming a writer, and maybe, in my own way, that's exactly what I became through the guitar.

(October 19, 2025)

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google