The giant was snoozing. Guitar in the mid 1970s was arguably in one of its fallow periods. John McLaughlin had thrown down one hell of a gauntlet with his Mahavishnu Orchestra in 1971, and the prog wizards and classic rockers were far from silent. Even pop-culture thermometers such as the Billboard charts were somewhat burning with releases such as Springsteen’s Born to Run, Zep’s Physical Graffiti, the first Boston album, Frampton Comes Alive, and the Eagles’ Hotel California. While these albums delivered some major guitar thrills, as a whole, the guitar-playing community seemed to be missing a bit of a spark. The communal tsunami wrought by the ’60s Brit bad boys and Hendrix and all the other early guitar heroes hadn’t yet churned up its second giant wave. And then the punk subculture exploded, smacking down technique for unfettered and unstudied passion, and causing an artistic re-evaluation of the guitar in pop music.

But with Van Halen still two years from its release, the 1976 appearance of Return to Forever’s Romantic Warrior fired a mind-blowing barrage of intelligent shred, technical ferocity, and rock-fueled sonic heat from a 22-year-old Al Di Meola—who then delivered another explosive call-to-arms with his 1977 solo album, Elegant Gypsy. For a time, Di Meola was perhaps the only gunslinger pushing the edges of guitarcraft with jaw-dropping and incendiary salvos of speed-of-light melodies, fusillades of muted notes, and cagey hybrids of classical, rock, jazz, and world-beat elements (long before the world beat movement entered the mainstream). That these technical and creative forays were soaring over the likes of Chick Corea compositions, rather than I-IV-V progressions or two-chord vamps, is kind of frightening.

Of course, since Di Meola first slammed into the music world like a meteor from some benevolent alien galaxy, much has happened in the guitar community. Shredders, technicians, and iconoclasts of all styles have once again forced a reassessment of “good guitar playing,” to the point where, as session legend Steve Lukather is fond of saying, “There’s a fetus in a YouTube video who has more guitar chops than anyone.” Through it all, Di Meola has flexed his compositional muscles, experimented with—and mastered— technological advances, somewhat abandoned the electric solidbody in favor of steel-string and classical acoustic playing, and compiled 30-plus years of a stunning creative catalog.

Now, he has returned to the band that first brought his incredible talents to mainstream ears, Return to Forever. Interviewed somewhere in the Russian wilderness in May 2008 (he was on a quartet tour with his New World Sinfonia), Di Meola mused about reuniting with keyboardist Chick Corea, bassist Stanley Clarke, and drummer Lenny White on one of the summer’s most anticipated tours, and he sounded extremely eager to discover how the years since the band’s 1977 breakup have changed each member, and how the RTF sound will evolve accordingly.

What prompted you and the others to consider reforming? Despite the obvious popular interest in seeing RTF perform again, did you, Chick, Lenny, and Stanley feel certain musical elements were asking for updating or evolution? Was it simply a desire to reconnect with each other?
I think it started with us always wanting to reconnect at some point, but it wasn’t until I was approached by a respected German promoter—who made an offer to the four of us—that anything tangible happened. Because of his enthusiasm, we started to talk about how to do it, and when to do it. It just kind of built up from that point, and so did our enthusiasm. In January 2008, we got together in Los Angeles for two days to produce an EPK [Electronic Press Kit], and we jammed on a couple of pieces to see how it would feel to play again. The result was like we had just left off performing together for a bit, and we were coming home. We actually used a couple of those pieces for video and mp3 promos. Personally, after all this time, I still feel there was a lot more for us to do. In fact, after this summer reunion, we may consider a brand new set of compositions for a December recording.

As the members have obviously grown and evolved musically since the ’70s—and even since the 1983 reunion concert—what specifically has changed about interacting with Chick, Stanley, and Lenny?
When I joined the band I was a teenager, and I was definitely still trying to find a voice and style as a guitarist. Of course, I was super happy to be there, and—thankfully—I was forced to grow! Now, I can honestly say that after all I’ve learned from 30 years on the road in various settings, as well as after 23 recordings as a solo artist, I am ready with a fresh set of more interesting ideas then what I had to offer Chick, Stanley, and Lenny back when I was 19. I got a taste of this during our two-day get together in Los Angeles.

What is your foremost guitar challenge in performing RTF music?
It’s basically memorizing all the pieces and keeping my chops in top shape. Stamina is important here!

Are there any differences in your gear for RTF, as compared to your current solo performances and recent recordings?
I am going out with a new set of amps for the RTF tour. The first amp is a 100-watt Fuchs Overdrive Supreme head into a Fuchs 2x12 cabinet. The second is an Elmwood Modena M90 top through a Limited Resistance Sinewave 2x12. I will also integrate a Mesa/Boogie Mark IV into the setup.

For guitars, I’m hoping my new PRS Al Di Meola signature “rainbow” solidbody will be ready in time. As of this writing, we are working on the prototype. Aesthetically, this will be a gorgeous guitar. I will also bring out the ’58 Les Paul “Black Beauty.” My Conde Hermanos classical cutaway model will be my nylon-string acoustic, and for steel-string acoustic parts, I’ll use my Ovation Al Di Meola signature model. Effects will be TC Electronic chorus and digital delay pedals, and I’ll use the Lexicon Model 200 for reverb. My strings are D’Addario—an XL .009-.042 set for the electric, a Pro Arte set for the classical, and an EJ16 .012 set of phosphor bronze for the Ovation. My picks are the extra-heavy D’Andrea models.

Looking back, what, in your words, do you feel was the main impact of Return to Forever on music and musicians? What threads from back then still influence or permeate today’s music?
You can absolutely hear the band’s influence permeate the music scene to this day. Return to Forever was perhaps the first real composition-oriented group that didn’t just have to solo to get noticed. The vibrancy of the soloing and interplay was cool—and it was somewhat new at that time—but we combined the soloing with these incredible, suite-like compositions, primarily from Chick. I think we merged the best of both aspects, which made RTF a first of its kind in the fusion era. The impact we had was huge amongst musicians, and it eventually crossed over to a large underground fan base, and then to a mainstream audience. I think the main component of that impact was our ability to execute difficult lines with a certain precision not yet heard so much—other than on certain classical records. We were also in the unique position of being the first band ever where each guy had their own solo contract while maintaining a band deal with CBS. At what was to be a huge pinnacle, we disbanded. But the legacy was never forgotten, and throughout all these 30-plus years, the talk of “when” in terms of reuniting came up all the time.

Let’s talk about your latest album for a bit. What were your main artistic goals for Consequence of Chaos?
The main purpose was to reconnect to the writing and playing process for the electric guitar after focusing on acoustic playing for quite a while. My fans in the States have been urging this, but it didn’t click until my friend Paul Reed Smith invited me to perform on electric guitar at the PRS 20th anniversary event at the 2006 Winter NAMM show. I didn’t realize until then how much I had missed the feel and sound of the electric guitar. The comfort level was immediate, and the obvious phrasing possibilities prevalent in my earlier recordings came back quite naturally—much to my surprise!

What’s the significance of the album title?
Some people have mentioned that it’s one of my more clever titles, but it also has a double meaning for our times. The “consequence of chaos” in the Middle East that our government elevated will naturally cause more profound problems due to our aggression. On the other hand, the creative process has its share of chaos, even though, most of the time, the intent is to create an artistically satisfying statement. The creative consequences are sometimes the result of “due process” chaos.

The record represents the first time you’ve recorded with certain people in a long time. For example, what was it like to play with Chick Corea and Steve Gadd again?
It is an event of a higher level when guys in the “Chick and Steve” league are part of your recording, as whatever you present them in the way of composition and/or improvisation will ultimately result in an incredible elevation of what you had originally written. It’s players such as Steve who made major statements on my earlier recordings, and like Chick, these players’ amazing ability with phrasing and rhythm bring something wonderful to every single piece of music you put in front of them. It was a gas having them back for a kind of reunion.

Specifically then, what does the Steve Gadd groove do to your sense of time? How do some other drummers inform your approach to phrasing and rhythm?
Steve is well known for his pocket. He has his own internal click track. I’ll never forget the first take of “Egyptian Danza” on Casino [1978]. Without going into detail, he wasn’t exactly in perfect physical condition to say the least. I remember the chart I had written was five pages long, and it was taped across his cymbal stands. After placing him in his seat, we all thought there wasn’t a chance he’d make it through the take, but—lo and behold!—that first take was the one we kept. If you hear that track today, you would never think that, considering all the adversity, he managed to knock everyone out with a stellar performance—and all without the aid of a click track. Check it out! Steve can make any groove sound simple, and amaze listeners without an overt technical display. I don’t think anyone else has that ability these days. I have also been blessed to have played with a legend such as Lenny White. He comes from a different slant, but is an amazing stylist and technician with an individual style that combines jazz history with all the new cats. The list goes on and on, but starting out with these two monsters early in my career was a very fortunate experience for me. I learn a lot from drummers, because I think like one—albeit in my own unorthodox way of thinking.

Can you describe how your playing changes when you trade phrases with Chick Corea as opposed to, say, Barry Miles?
Well, both of those guys really know how to comp and support a player, so I don’t believe my technique or approach changes at all. But it’s the inspiration these guys bring that boosts my creativity. They are always listening, and they’re never self-absorbed when it’s their turn, so the level of interplay can be way up there, and that helps propel me into areas I might not venture into when I’m performing with my own group. Of course, that’s very often the beauty of playing with great players—the inspiration level is like a barrage of ideas coming out of a creative door.

Speaking of Barry, the two of you play some pretty intricate stuff in “Turquoise.” How did that tune come about, and what did you mean when you said that “counterpoint compositionally embodies the essence” of your future writing direction?
For lack of a better term, this work was in many ways a culmination of my influences—such as Chick and Astor Piazzolla— and my desire to write in a contemporary-classical chamber way. When I play and compose, I always hear music in a very syncopated and counterpoint-like way.

Can you detail the gear you used to record Consequence of Chaos?
I used my custom Paul Reed Smith through a 100-watt Koch Multitone II 2x12 combo and a Mesa/Boogie Mark IV. The pickups are custom PRS models made with a copper wire coil acquired in Russia. For steel-string acoustics, I had my signature model Ovation and my 1948 Martin D-18. What sustain that Martin has! My nylon-string acoustics were a Conde Hermanos Classical-Flamenco cutaway from Madrid, and a Filetto classical from Sicily. I always use Shoepp microphones to record my acoustics, and I add some reverb from a Lexicon Model 200.

What kind of pick do you use on your nylon-string guitars, and how do you keep the tone so mellow?
Early on, I graduated to extra heavy picks. They give a warmer tone, and, as a result, they eliminate much of that clacky sound you hear that some jazz guitarists get when they switch to nylon. Of course, the sound is also in the touch and feel of the player.

What medium did you use to record the album?
For the most part, we used my studio, and we tracked on Pro Tools HD—or “Slow Tools,” as I like to call it. It’s tedious, but necessary.

In the tune “Hypnose,” your tone goes from a smaller, cleaner sound to a big, creamy fat tone at 2:50. Did you ride the volume knob on the guitar, or did you kick in a different amp tone?
I used the volume knob—thanks, rock guys! I take pride in not getting too hung up on tons of connections and gear and pedals. In my world, I place the importance on the music, and my ability to play it and feel it.

“Red Moon” has a bunch of different tones. Some are really heavy, some are clean, and some are dark and wooly. What setup did you use for that song?
I used a custom guitar—made specifically for me—that Paul Reed Smith built himself. The amp was a Mesa/Boogie Mark III. Again, the volume controls on the guitar were acting as my “tone” controls.

What was the atmosphere like when you recorded that song? Did you and Chick track live?
We tracked it live as a band, but Chick overdubbed his part as a guest. His solo was so outstanding that I considered redoing mine because he elevated the level of excitement to another place! Chick has the most insane sense of rhythm. So does Gonzalo Rubalcaba.

The Guitar Player staff believes that pretty much every shredder on the planet owes you a debt of gratitude. Were you aware back in the day that so many players were citing you as an influence?
I was mildly aware, but I couldn’t name too many names.

When you heard fast, muted picking, did you consider it a tribute or a rip-off?
I felt it more as a tribute, and I admired the playing. Guys like John Petrucci and Zakk Wylde are two that come to mind right away.

In your February 1978 GP cover story you talked about being inspired by Doc Watson. What inspired you about his music?
I loved his fingerpicking technique. Actually, I thought he was flatpicking until I saw him live when I was 14. Man, I would listen to his records over and over, and I’d try to play what he was doing with a flatpick until I realized the impossibility of tackling those parts unless you used fingerpicks. However, this little “misperception” helped further develop my picking technique.

What are some other influences your fans might be surprised by?
I’ve admired Clarence White, JayDee Maness, Larry Coryell, Egberto Gismonti, Ralph Towner, Django, George Benson, Kenny Burrell, and, when I was a kid, Carlos Santana.

When you arpeggiate chords, what typically informs your choice of voicings—matching the emotional impact of the work, negotiating purely musical or compositional challenges, or some other concerns?
The degree of variance can be extreme based on what combinations and ideas you could come up with, but it’s the rhythm within an arpeggiated harmony that gives it its uniqueness. With me, the rhythm comes first.

A lot of your tunes incorporate intricate modal lines. Do you have similar patterns that use pentatonics or blues scales?
I use very few pentatonic and blues scales—unless they are what’s needed. I concentrate more on not concentrating once I get an idea of the harmony I am soloing over. What you can do with rhythmic variations when you’re playing in the positions you know is astounding. I can take and interconnect modes with skips that create a different approach every time I play in the same range, as long as the rhythm is interesting.

In “Odyssey,” on Consequence of Chaos, you do a run in G major that seems to skip around quite a bit before you settle on the melody. Can you detail what’s going on there?
That was pure inspiration, man! I just let it flow. I never once analyzed it. That solo was created on the spot in one take.

There is always some controversy amongst the GP readership about the musicality of speed. When composing, what musical or “energy-related” concerns are you thinking about when you unleash a speed-of-light run?
Well, let me go on record if I haven’t already, and say that the ability to display good or great technique should always be at the top of a guitarist’s list. I laugh when guys who can’t display any real technique say sh*t like, “You can say a lot more with one note.” Some of these players have lousy or just-okay technique, and they use that line as their excuse for not aspiring to be better. The ability to play what you hear in your head with clear articulation should be your first and foremost goal. All the other emotions and expressions are equally important when combined with a clean technique that can execute those bursts you hear in your head.

What are the foremost lessons you’ve learned from your explorations in world music that have informed your current style?
I’m not sure. My roots are Italian, and—in my acoustic playing—I purposely wanted to inject some of those roots with jazz improvisation, Latin music, and classical forms. When I listen to music, I find that I like rock guys who have added world elements to blend a flavor that connects to another place. For me, that is far more interesting than staying in the same place musically.

Can you detail the musical, inspirational, and/or phrasing touchstones you invoke when you improvise?
I have studied extensively since I was nine years old, and I’ve gotten to a point where all of my instincts go to work to formulate what is hopefully going to be a good conversation in a solo. I usually go into another place spiritually when I am in mid flight. All of my knowledge, discoveries, life experiences, new ideas, and momentary inspirations come into play. The choices of phrasing, rhythmic ideas, and scale divisions come into play, depending on how the others I’m playing influence my surroundings and my head. One can never know the result.

Could you detail some of your favorite rigs over the years?
Oh boy, if we go all the way back to 1974, then we are talking a Marshall amp with a ’71 Les Paul Custom. Then, in the years that followed, I used a Les Paul Deluxe, and I also acquired some early Paul Reed Smiths with curly maple tops. I think I was the first guy to buy his guitars in 1975. I bought a bunch of them! In the ’80s, I moved on to using Mesa/Boogie and Roland Jazz Chorus amps with my ’59 Gibson ES-175. I also had my ’80s Synclavier period, which was amazing for blending extremely high-quality sounds on a very complicated piece of high-tech gear through a pickup mounted on my guitar. The sheer weight of traveling with this beast was a nightmare, but it made for some very interesting sounds on a few important mid-to late-’80s recordings.

What technical, creative, and/or compositional elements were informing your gear choices and the evolution of your rig?
Land of the Midnight Sun, Elegant Gypsy, Casino, Splendido Hotel, and Tour de Force: Live were my Les Paul/Marshall recordings. Scenario, however, was the turning point with guitar synthesis before almost anyone was using this technology. Then, Soaring Through a Dream and Tirami Su ventured further in that direction before I settled down to a kind of combination of electric/acoustic/synthesis on the bigger-production albums I did later.

You’re always very vocal about pop-music culture, and what “sells” in today’s marketplace. What is your view of the current culture of the guitar?
There are a lot of guys and girls out there trying to find their own voice—players like Kaki King and John Petrucci. I like “black sheep”—guitarists in a bag of their own. They don’t really fit in, but they offer something different. A new slant. I know I’m one of those, because I never fit into the rock world or the jazz world, and I was so happy about that. I really liked being different with my approach.

Do you feel accomplished musicians are given fair recognition by the public? What are some of the things a guitar magazine such as GP could do to better educate players about the value of study, technique, musicality, and all the other elements that comprise a truly accomplished guitarist?
Guitar Player has been a leader in presenting accomplished guitarists, rather than the flashy elements you might see in other mags. With that approach comes all kinds of knowledge that good guitarists can share with other players. This is what you guys are doing well. It’s the state of television in America that blows! For example, how often do you see a hot guitarist or virtuoso performing on a late-night talk show?

What do you feel is the greatest mistake many of today’s players are making in their approach to the guitar?
The single greatest challenge is developing one’s sense of time. Almost all guitarists think they have a good sense of time. Well, if so, they should be able to tap their foot while playing syncopated lines on their ax without their foot going out of time even a hair. If you can’t do this, then you should slow down, and try to find your center. Then, the rhythmic and musical possibilities are huge. None of this can work if you fall out of sync with yourself. This point is a whole study unto itself, and it is usually the highlight of any guitar seminar I give.

If you had to consider what your imprint on 20th-Century guitarcraft would be, how would you describe it?
I would like to be known for always presenting some kind of interesting, challenging, and fresh music that is both musical and technically intelligent, but never at the expense of it being heartfelt. I think that over the last ten to 15 years, I have definitely moved in that direction. I especially want to be recognized as much for being a composer as being a guitarist. With the 30-year body of work I have now, there’s a lot for people to judge! 

Questions to Al From the Guitar Player Online Forum

Having played with guys like Larry Coryell, Paco de Lucia, John McLaughlin, Stanley Clarke, Tony Williams, and countless other great musicians, was there any one player where you just sat back and said, “Wow”? Also, which is your favorite Chick Corea composition? —Tea For One
Chick and Gonzalo Rubalcaba are up there. On guitar, I’d say Ralph Towner—from a purely intelligent improvisationalist point of view. Chick’s “Song to the Pharoah Kings” is one of my favorites.

Back in the ’70s, my high school math teacher played some of your music in class and told us, “Di Meola is way better than that stoner Hendrix.” What do you think about that? —Mudcat
Oh my, God! First, I love Hendrix for what he did with—and for—the guitar in general, but more so for the overall sound and voice blend. What a package at a time when no one came close. Now, you have tons of guys covering all those licks and beyond. As for the compliment, I would say, “Thank you very much!”

I read you practiced ten hours a day at one time. How can you do that and not injure your hands? —Eric Iverson
I have been blessed—they never hurt. No problems at all. I can’t explain it. Perhaps it’s genes and some luck.

Why do you always look so self-serious in posed photos? Also, please compare playing with Chick Corea to playing with Jan Hammer —Billster
I always thought smiling shots make people, for the most part, look not so good because you’re bending the shape of your face. I have loosened up a bit over the years, though I would rather bend a string than my face!

Chick has the rhythm and Latin sensibility, and Jan has that amazing electric-guitar sense as a keyboardist with an innate ability to control and choose great Minimoog sounds like no one else. Very different musical guys, but both on the top of the list.

You were big on using the Synclavier synth with guitar when it first came out. Is there any newer technology you’ve embraced, or see as a major innovation for guitarists? Also, any thoughts on your Synclavier period you’d like to share? —Danzilla
Since the Synclav days, I have tried every guitar-related Roland device ever made, and units such as the VG88 were in my stage setup for years. The Synclav got phased out, because each time they upgraded some cool new thing that you just had to have, it cost 30 grand or more. There were a couple of us out there with a half a million or so worth of this monstrosity! It was so liberating to get away from that kind of thing, and get back to the guitar. Anyway, I am currently looking for all the new gear that might catch my ear, primarily from Roland who I work closely with.

Do you feel that people place too much emphasis on the flashier aspects of your style, and ignore the more subtle elements? —Billster
I had felt it sometimes in the distant past, more so than in the present. I think I am far more noticed now for my compositional skills. I hope that people see what I do as more of a complete package, but perhaps the person making that kind of comment has not heard my last eight or nine CDs.