The story of the electric guitar is as much folklore and mythology as it is history. While the public embrace of the electric guitar, both musically and socially, is very much a phenomenon of the twentieth century, its roots go back to mid-eighteenth century Europe, and its journey to becoming a modern cultural icon includes stops in the Czech Republic, France, Hawaii, Germany, and the US Naval Academy in Annapolis. Even its history during the twentieth century is typically not well understood, with significant confusion over the people, events, and timeline of the electric guitar’s invention. This chapter examines the hidden history of the electric guitar, and puts the electric guitar’s development within the larger context of the electrification of musical instruments.

The chapter traces the long, unheralded history of Black women electric guitarists in the United States from the 1940s to the present century. It identifies the unique challenges they face striving to work in an American music landscape that adores Black women as singers but largely overlooks them when they strap an electric guitar onto their bodies. It uses historical research and oral history interviews with intergenerational artists in blues, gospel, and rock to explore how race, gender, and genre conventions manifest and intersect to create barriers and opportunities.

The word ‘Klavier’ occurs only twice in the texts of Schubert’s lieder, but both times in a prominent position – namely, in the titles of Christian Daniel Friedrich Schubart’s ‘An mein Klavier’ and Friedrich Schiller’s ‘Laura am Klavier’, both set to music in 1816 (respectively D342 and D388). The first poem deals with two figures – the narrative persona and his piano; the second with three – Laura, the piano and the narrative persona. In Schubart, the emphasis falls on the piano’s expressive potential; in Schiller, mainly on the impression it imparts. The two poems thus present the instrument in quite different, even antithetical, guises: introverted versus extroverted. Although Schubert turned to poems that were already a generation old (they were first published in 1785 and 1782, respectively) and had a different sound in mind compared to the two poets (this was an age of rapid evolution in keyboard instrument construction), the instrumental aesthetic displayed in Schubart’s and Schiller’s poems still applied with undiminished force in 1816. The antitheses marked by the poems Schubert chose with respect to the Klavier reveal the breadth of notions associated with the instruments that went by that name around 1800.

The release of the Fender Telecaster, Gibson Les Paul, and Fender Stratocaster in the early 1950s has led that era to assume the status of a “golden age” of electric guitar design and production. This chapter seeks to broaden the terms according to which we understand this pivotal moment through multiple lenses. First, it documents an earlier turning point in electric guitar history in the mid to late 1930s, when the Spanish-body electric ascended to prominence over its Hawaiian-style counterpart. Next, it examines the prehistory of the commercial solid body through the preproduction prototypes built by Les Paul, Leo Fender, and Paul Bigsby. Third, the chapter highlights the continued importance of hollow body electrics throughout the 1950s, in conjunction with the early years of rock ‘n’ roll. Lastly, it foregrounds the impact of low-cost electric guitars produced by companies such as Harmony and Kay, which helped make the instrument into a more accessible commodity.

Guitar shop showrooms are museums of design. As visitors walk by rows of instruments, they encounter a tactile history of popular music. However, shoppers may notice that the majority of electric guitars available in the modern marketplace are strikingly similar. While there are certainly instances of radically new styles, they are outnumbered by instruments that resemble mid-twentieth century designs, such as the Fender Stratocaster and the Gibson Les Paul. This chapter explores moments in electric guitar design history that speak to marketplace tensions between historical consciousness and innovation. There is a widespread belief that the electric guitar was perfected half a century ago. Therefore, new design choices must be in conversation with the past. Success stories—such as Fender’s Custom Shop series—rely upon such historical nods. Design flops—such as Gibson’s “G-Force” automatic tuner—fail because they innovate beyond what buyers are willing to accept. So, is the electric guitar dead, as some commentators have proclaimed? I argue that the instrument is in a persistent state of rebirth as new models move forwards by looking backwards.

This chapter approaches the history of electric guitar music in sub-Saharan Africa through the perspective of the “new organology,” considering the unique imbrication of materiality and sociality within the cultural work of music. Multiple local and transnational networks impact the work of guitarists, including the movement of musicians, economic systems that circulate instruments, and the circulation of musical knowledge, genre, and instrumental technique. Networks are both embedded in the landscape—such as electrical infrastructure—and lay atop the physical, such as mobile data and social media applications. The author draws upon ethnographic interviews with guitarists from Ghana and Congo to show how these networks of circulation and the materiality of instruments can provide new ways of thinking about guitar music in Africa and the African diaspora.

This chapter examines the rise of the guitar hero in the period from the mid 1960s until the early 1990s, with an emphasis on the 1970−1985 period. The “hippie aesthetic” is explored to establish the various aspects of musical ambition among guitarists that helped to make technical virtuosity a key factor in this rise. Readers’ polls primarily from Guitar Player magazine are surveyed to explore how aspiring guitarists in the 1970s and later ranked contemporary (but also historical) guitarists. These polls suggest that aspiring guitarists sometimes preferred different guitarists to those who might be most popular among the general listening public. A brief survey of modern guitar hero polls suggests that the guitar heroes of the 1970s have mostly retained their standing, though some newer ones appear in these polls and some older ones have receded.

Schubert acquired the art of improvisation from Salieri, who had trained him in the old school of a kapellmeister, a proficient keyboard improviser able to compose, in a short space of time, a mass, symphony or opera, and furnish publishers with songs, chamber music and piano repertoire. Schubert’s friends dismissed his teacher’s theoretically grounded practice of keyboard improvisation as old-fashioned, unknowingly realising that numerous treatises were lamenting its disappearance from musical pedagogy.The skills Schubert acquired were finely honed in Viennese salons. Whereas pianists of the mid nineteenth century played for a vastly expanded concert audience with a lower level of musical education, Schubert’s improvisations – unlike Liszt’s or Hummel’s – were exclusively in private, elite company, where he was immediately understood. Sonnleithner recalls Schubert’s multilevelled improvisations, where he played light waltzes for friends to dance to while others gathered around listening, as he satisfied simultaneously popular and learned tastes. Louis Schlösser remembers Schubert improvising fantasies on Hungarian tunes, which shows the pleasing, popular side of Schubert’s improvisations. One of the most distinctive elements resulting from Schubert’s ‘improvisatory’ compositional technique is his use of harmony at local and structural levels, and novel use of form whose roots are in his improvisor’s fingers.

In diaries, letters and memoirs written by his friends and contemporaries, as well as in visual representations, Schubert is most frequently depicted at the piano encircled by friends. His association with this instrument spanned most of his life and covered a wide range of musical genres including fantasies, sonatas, dances, variations, marches and character pieces (such as those in the Hungarian style), in addition to his cultivation of the piano duet (music for piano four hands). In his Lieder – one of the genres with which Schubert is chiefly associated today – and his instrumental chamber music, the piano also takes on a significant role, almost always extending far beyond the function of an accompaniment to the voice or solo instruments. Given the predominant position of the piano in his output, it could be surmised that it was his instrument of choice. Yet despite Schubert’s diverse use of the piano, previous research on his music for the instrument has tended to focus almost exclusively on the sonatas (for two hands), analysing their musical form, harmonic disposition and Schubert’s approach to thematic development in contrast to the ‘classical’ piano sonata and to a certain extent in the shadow of Beethoven’s piano sonatas.

Schubert’s twenty-eight ballads provide an unusual perspective on his approach to writing for the piano for several reasons. First, the role of improvisation within balladeering was much more pronounced, traces of which remain within Schubert’s published works. Second, the piano was used to provide more explicit scene-setting, through the use of scenic effects, than is generally the case in Schubert’s other Lieder. Third, the ballads allow for the re-examination of narrative processes within nineteenth-century Lieder – in other words, how songs told stories.This chapter focuses on three ballads that show Schubert adopting different approaches to rendering poetic imagery in musical terms. It begins with his 1815 settings of Friedrich Schiller’s ‘Der Taucher’, D77, and Ludwig Heinrich Christoph Hölty’s ‘Die Nonne’, D212, considering their use of elaborate ‘Schauder’ or ‘shudder’ effects, which now tend to be dismissed as hackneyed but might instead be considered to offer access to often-overlooked aspects of early nineteenth-century performance culture. At the other end of the stylistic spectrum, and of Schubert’s career, comes his simple strophic setting of Gottfried Herder’s ‘Edward’, D923 (1827). Concepts and practices of the ballad shifted over the course of Schubert’s career and would continue to do so for subsequent generations.

In The Segovia Technique (1972), Vladimir Bobri describes what a guitarist’s hand gesture must be to lean toward virtuosity. This search for the perfection of the “classical” gesture was, however, called into question by another virtuosity: that of rock music. The greatest guitarists of this genre never ceased to break the rules of this ideal gesture. In the first part of the chapter, this study briefly covers the electrification of the guitar and its consequences on guitar manufacturing and the development of the effects dedicated to guitar playing. I will then focus on the possible range of crossbreeding the classically inspired instrumental gesture before addressing Eddie Van Halen’s contribution. Finally, I will consider the influence that the rock virtuosos’ legacy, from Jimi Hendrix to Van Halen, brought to the instrumental gesture, and the tones used by composers of contemporary repertoire whose knowing use of technique has furthered the hybridization of genres.

During the twentieth century, the electric guitar rose to what Waksman (2001) has described as a “position of relative supremacy in the instrumental hierarchy of popular music” due in part to its ability to function effectively within and across the four textural layers present in popular music. While much of the stylistic research surrounding the electric guitar to date has focused on the lead guitar and its players due to the musical and cultural agency ascribed to the role, the aim of this chapter is to examine the electric rhythm guitar in popular music. The chapter offers a review of the literature and current knowledge surrounding the rhythm guitar and briefly discusses the often problematic divisions of labor between rhythm and lead playing. The chapter then assesses varied approaches to rhythm playing taken by electric guitar practitioners on key recordings from the genres of jazz, blues, R&B, rock and roll, funk, and disco. Rather than reinforcing an assumed binary opposition of lead and rhythm guitar functions, the chapter argues for a consideration of a rhythm-lead guitar spectrum/continuum supported by an assessment of the case studies presented in the chapter.