7 Criminally Underrated Rock Guitarists

Hendrix. Clapton. Van Halen. We get it. Every poll of great guitarists has the same names at or near the top. It’s unlikely that anyone will ever unseat these holiest of holies. So instead of listing the usual suspects, let’s take a moment to celebrate great guitarists who seldom, if ever, show up in lineups of The Usual Suspects: Rock Guitar Edition… and yet, who deserve to.

Because such lists are subjective, the following luminaries are some of my favorites. I know you have your favorites, too. If you’re not familiar with these axe-wielding demigods, though, check ‘em out. And because this list could be endless if we examined folks like Eddie Hazel, Kaki King, and David Maxim Micic, we’re gonna stick to guitarists in whatever passes for rock music these days. For the moment, anyway…

7: Steven Wilson

Most famous for his studio wizardry, Wilson has spent the last few years redefining the guitar as an instrument. Not, perhaps, as radically as Michael Hedges or Robert Fripp did in previous eras, but – like his acclaimed counterpart Tim Henson – from a 21st-century perspective. Where the archetypal rock guitarist steps out front-and-center, Wilson slides deep into grooves and textures whose richness demands a good set of headphones and the time to listen deeply. Though his work with Porcupine Tree showed that Wilson can shred, his solo work takes an architectural approach to sound. Rather than cramming notes and scales into mind-twisting blurs, Wilson slows down and lets his arsenal of samples, overdubs, effects, and alternate tunings wash over you. The result provides an anxious sort of trance broken by surreal assaults like the solo burn eight minutes into “Personal Shopper” or the otherworldly aria just past the three-minute mark of his aptly named “Count of Unease.” Few artists straddle rock’s classic age and the soft panic of the Covid era with the grace of Wilson’s guitar. That lack of swagger makes him easy to miss. And that’s a damn shame.  

6: Geordie Walker

No solos. No posing. Just “the sound of the earth vomiting” through six strings, a battered hollowbody Gibson ES-295, and the unflappable cool of Kevin “Geordie” Walker. Sadly felled by a stroke just a few months ago, Geordie channeled apocalyptic fire. Although nutter prophet Jaz Coleman provided the genius behind Killing Joke (a fact made obvious by Murder Inc. – the band that resulted when KJ essentially fired Coleman), the band’s soul comes through Walker’s searing guitar tone. His approach – which features unique tunings, original chords, and ghost-notes galore – gave Geordie a tone many emulate but no one can duplicate. Because Walker seldom recorded overdubs, that monster tone grinds the air to powder when the Joke played live. If Mecha-Godzilla eats a sheet-metal factory during a thunderstorm on Doomsday, that sound will echo Geordie Walker’s guitar.

5: Tash Sultana

Though a musician since childhood, Tash Sultana cultivated a freeform flow of rock, blues, reggae, hip-hop, jazz, and whatever else seems interesting while recovering from drug-induced psychosis. Unable to hold a steady job, Tash used technology, imagination, and sheer nerve to construct a one-person-band approach while busking on the streets of Melbourne, Australia. In 2016, a series of bedroom-concert videos brought Tash to international attention, making them (Tash’s pronoun) one of the first stars of the social-media music era. Given the devices and instruments that surround Tash (not to mention a hippie vibe that puts off many “serious” rockists), it’s easy to underestimate the fluidity of Tash’s evocative guitar textures. The emotional heft and improvisational dexterity of Tash’s work, however, puts them light-years beyond rote string-pounders with more speed than soul.

4: Adrian Belew

Despite an epic career that includes work with Frank Zappa, David Bowie, the Talking Heads, an array of solo projects, and arguably the finest iteration of King Crimson, Adrian Belew slips along the margins of Greatest Guitarist polls if he appears on them at all. Maybe it’s balding geek image of his stage persona? Or the quirky yet eerily precise wails he conjures from his guitar? Who knows? Roughly 50 years into his cult-status run as a mad scientist of pan-dimensional guitar fuckery, Belew continues to experiment with the sonic potential of six strings, a few effects, and an otherworldly sense of play.

3: Ani DiFranco

The angular chime of Ani DiFranco’s guitar remains as distinct as the supple rage winding through her lyrics. Tuned as unconventionally as Di Franco’s voice, that acoustic guitar often sounds more like a percussion instrument than like the traditional tool of folk-music “pretty girls.” Even in the quieter moments of her vast catalogue, DiFranco seldom conforms to preconceived notions of what “a girl with a guitar” is supposed to act or sound like. Given her distinct lyrics and self-effacing persona, it’s easy to miss what an incredible guitarist she is. Ani’s not one to showboat; for her, that skill serves the greater purpose of the song. Yet her ferocious playing style underscores Woody Guthrie’s famous axiom This machine kills fascists – and does so with a voice as potent and unmistakable as DiFranco’s own.

2. Miyavi

Why isn’t Miyavi one of the biggest stars on earth? A charisma bomb whose style veers from Motown pop to Princely funk, hyperdrive blues to razorblade metal, visual kei to Japanese hip-hip and a lot more besides, Takamasa Ishihara is the entire package. He honed his athletic performance style through a football career cut short by injury. Adopting the guitar at age 15, he began playing in bands less than two years later. Since then, Miyavi has given musical traditions a laser enema focused through steely fingertips, superhuman precision, and absolute commitment to every note he plays.

1: Sister Rosetta Tharpe

“Oh, these kids and rock and roll – this is just sped-up rhythm and blues. I’ve been doing that forever.” 

Sister Rosetta invented rock ‘n’ roll. Full stop. No questions. The chugging electric guitar style copped by Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry (who referred to his career as “one long Rosetta Tharpe impression”) originated in the electrified gospel of one Rosetta Nubin, soon to assume the name Tharpe and ascend to international stardom. Her clear voice and distorted guitar influenced Clapton, Cash, Keith Richards, Tina Turner, and many, many more. Female, Black, and reputedly bisexual in pre-Civil Rights-era America, however, Sister Rosetta fell out of the spotlight as the rock era advanced. By the late 1970s, just a few years after her death, critics, audiences, and businessmen had whitewashed rock in general and Sister Rosetta in particular. Her legacy, until recently, could be found everywhere in the music and nowhere on the page. Though she lacked the pyrotechnics of her descendants, Sister Rosetta brought swagger to the sacred. Her comparatively short life changed music forever.

About Satyr

Award-winning fantasy author, game-designer, and all 'round creative malcontent. Creator of a whole bunch of stuff, most notably the series Mage: The Ascension, Deliria: Faerie Tales for a New Millennium, and Powerchords: Music, Magic & Urban Fantasy. Lives in Seattle. Hates shoes. Loves cats. Dances a lot.
This entry was posted in Art, Music, Politics & Society, Sex & Gender and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a comment