In the vibrant realm of guitar mastery, few artists illuminate the stage quite like Andy Wood. Renowned for his unique blend of rock, bluegrass, and jazz, Wood’s innovative techniques and eclectic musical influences have carved a distinct niche in the guitar world. With a career marked by daring creativity and dexterous prowess, his recent project, Charisma, stands as a testament to his exceptional talent, sonic exploration, and most importantly love of family.
I sat down with this modern guitar virtuoso for The Vinyl District and dug into Wood’s creative process, the inspirations behind his boundary-pushing sound, and his candid insights on the evolving landscape of the music industry, including the resurgence of vinyl.
What inspired you to pursue music as a career and how did you get your start?
I actually grew up in a pretty musical family. My grandfather played fiddle, mandolin, and guitar. He was a construction worker, so my family didn’t have a lot of money, and the instruments laying around the house were all we had to play. We didn’t ever have a full size fiddle… It was starter size which was a much smaller scale. We had what we had. My cousin and I were the only children of our generation, so we grew up more like brothers, and our granddad taught us how to play starting around five or six years old. It was just always something we did around the house. We went to bluegrass and fiddlers’ conventions and things like that through the Southeast. As a result, I grew up worshipping banjo and mandolin players and that style of music.
Around the age of 17, I heard a guitar solo on a Mark O’Connor record. The guitar solo was by a guy named Brent Mason—who’s truly Nashville session royalty. That’s when I was like, “Oh, man. I want to learn how to play electric guitar and really do it.” It’s funny, but granddad was always telling me and Brian, “Don’t ever do a career in music. Get a good job.” So, fast forward to now, Brian and I are both career players. I’m on my path and Brian plays fiddle for Travis Tritt and has for 15 years. It’s like we didn’t listen to him, but I’m glad we didn’t, you know?
What was it like taking the stage for the very first time?
Truthfully, man, I don’t remember. I was too young—probably six or seven—and there was a little bluegrass get-together that would happen in my local hometown. My granddad took us, and we ended up there playing on stage. I can’t really remember what that was like but am absolutely certain we had a great time. It was definitely the start of something special.
Who are some of your biggest musical influences?
My first influences were guys like Béla Fleck, Sam Bush, Tony Rice, Bill Monroe—all Bluegrass legends. Then I got into some of those ’70s new grass guys like the Jerry Douglas, Mark O’Connor—that kind of stuff. When I got into electric guitar, I came into it kind of backwards. I had been playing mandolin and the acoustic guitar for 10 or 11 years by the time I got really into electric guitar. I was around 17 years old at the time.
So, I have phase one of my life, which is all the bluegrass influences—Mark O’Connor and Béla and all those guys. Then phase two was when I really got into Van Halen, the Dixie Dregs, Eric Johnson, Joe Satriani, and Steve Vai. That kind of music really resonated with me and just the idea of loud distorted amplifiers got me really good. And they were the best.
Your current sound has lots of progressive undertones, were you also a fan of that genre of music?
That DNA probably comes from a very special place—Steve Morse. Steve was so important to me because of his truly incredible talent. And because of that, he was a bit like a gateway drug into Dream Theater and stuff like that. Steve had a fiddle in the Dixie Dregs, but he was playing more of a rock and shreddy sound, and it kind of blended that bluegrass fusion with the rock in incredible ways. So, he was really important as far as just getting me to heavier music. Maybe that’s the right way to word it, right? His sound inspired me to love rock and metal, stuff like that.
And that inspired your love for John Petrucci?
I’m a big progressive kind of guy, and John Petrucci immediately jumped out at me. You could hear in his playing the things that I listened to and loved, and I’m like, “Oh, God. That’s amazing.” But JP, of course, man. That Suspended Animation record is just one of my all-time favorite instrumental records. It’s brilliant. And his songwriting and guitar mastery are truly second to none.
Your music is often described as genre-defying. Is there any particular genre or style that you feel most comfortable in?
Truth be told, I’ll always feel comfortable in a bluegrass and country environment. I’ve played that my whole life. If somebody said, “Andy, our mandolin player broke his wrist tonight. The show is at the Tennessee Theatre. Can you step in in two hours? It’s predominantly Flatt and Scruggs and Bill Monroe music.” I’d be like, “Yeah, I don’t even have to practice. I’ll see you in two hours.” That’s one of those genres that’s ingrained in me. I feel super comfortable in heavily improvisational environments. I also listen to a lot of Allman Brothers, a lot of Jeff Beck and that kind of music. I feel really comfortable in that space too. I think some guys don’t feel comfortable improvising, but to me part of the most joyous parts of music is that kind of thing.
You’ve collaborated with many different artists over the years. Do you have any favorite collaborations or memorable experiences you can share?
I always made my instrumental music on the side. My main hustle was being a hired gun session guy, a touring guy. So, when I got that Rascal Flatts gig, that was pretty cool because I mean, “I’m Movin’ On” is a pretty famous Rascal Flatts tune. That was one of the big songs at my senior prom, so I was like, “Wow. It’s a pretty serendipitous scenario to walk into.” That’s cool.
I can also think of some moments that are to this day pretty unbelievable. The first time Sam Bush invited me to play at his show, get up on stage with him and pick, that was crazy because he’s a childhood hero. When Steve Morse invited me to come play with the Dixie Dregs in Nashville and set in on a version of “Crossroads,” that was pretty unbelievable, too. I’m blessed that a lot of my heroes like my stuff. When I really started crossing that threshold, and your phone pops up and it says John Petrucci on it or Eric Johnson, it’s just like, “Whoa. What’s happening now?” because I feel like I should be paying them royalties.
I know this will be tough, but who are your top four favorite guitarists of all time?
Okay, here we go. This is a fun game. Let’s word it like this because I do this to people at clinics. “Who’s on your Mount Rushmore of Guitarists?” Now Matt, I’m going to be really clear. We’re not going to allow Jimi Hendrix or Jeff Beck on my Mount Rushmore because they’re on everybody’s. You know what I’m saying? Similarly, everybody is going to say Eddie Van Halen, right? We’re not going to say Ed, Hendrix, or Jeff Beck because that’s the overarching. They’re just like the roundtable of the elite. Right?
So, with that said, my Mount Rushmore would consist of Brent Mason, Eric Johnson, Steve Morse, and Dann Huff. That could probably change in about 30 minutes because I have so many favorites, but right now, that would be the four that’s on my Mount Rushmore. And of course, we could make a similar list for other genres of music too, but we’ll leave that for another discussion.
Your latest album Charisma has been described as an exploration of different musical styles. Can you tell us more about this?
Charisma started during the Covid lockdowns, and it truly was something just to keep me occupied. I started making demos at home because we couldn’t tour. The world as we knew it just stopped touring altogether. During that time, and this is going to be a Debbie Downer, I lost my granddad and my father within 13 months of each other. That was the worst. My granddad taught me how to play, and my dad was my best friend. This was a very difficult time to say the least.
So, the record came on the heels of all this pain. At that time, I wasn’t acting as an adult, and I didn’t get a therapist, which is what I should have done. Instead, I just made music and let that become my therapy through inspired songwriting. I think that’s a big point, too, Matt. I didn’t really come at this record from the perspective of, “I’m going to write all this technical great stuff, so I’ll impress all the guys.” I came at this record from a different perspective, my perspective. I wanted to write the most powerful melodies that I could write that I’d be humming later that day and really put the song at the forefront over chops and technique and everything. Now, that’s not to say there’s not a lot of chops in it, but it again wasn’t written from the, “I better impress my peers” kind of thing. It was written from the perspective of, “Man, I’m really hurting. This melody is what I feel.”
Can you share the story behind one of your songs on Charisma that holds special meaning for you?
What first comes to mind is “Cherry Blossoms.” I specifically kept playing that melody over and over and over again when I was going through those incredible losses, and that’s something that I fleshed out with a lot of love. I did that song the hard way, by having real strings and real instruments and not using any software plug-ins. So, that thing has 102 tracks on it of violins, violas, and everything in between. I did it the hard way, but I did it the hard way out of respect for those two gentlemen, and I just didn’t want to do a software plug-in when I’m writing a song about my dad and my granddad. It was like a mission statement thing. It’s all real amps. It’s all real guitars, real mandolins, real strings. Everything is real.
Any other songs?
I think another song that’s really important is the last song on the album, which is “Believe,” and that was the first demo that I wrote for the new record. We were all in the thralls of social political change. The George Floyd news was front and center, and all of these controversies and arguing and battling points that were everywhere within the political spectrum. Then we’re just locked in our houses, and everybody is a keyboard warrior on Facebook. Red versus blue, as hard as you can get it. That melody, I just kept coming back to the idea of, “Man, we’ve got to believe at some point that we’re bigger than these talking points and the bickering that we’re wrapped up in.” That melody kind of came from more of a hopeful standpoint and it’s what I think unity might sound like. A lot of times for me when I’m writing a melody or composing something, I have an emotion or a visual in my mind. I’m like, “What’s the soundtrack to that?” So, to me, “Believe” was what unity and hope actually sounded like.
What role does emotion play in your music, and how do you channel it into your performances and recordings?
Man. Live music and recording are two different worlds. When I record, I want to be comfortable. I want to sit down. I want to be relaxed, wearing workout pants and a T-shirt. I just want to be comfortable with a focus on my hands, the instrument and the tones. Live, I’m really trying to take inspiration for conveying this music live and upping the show factor. Remembering one philosophical standpoint for me, which is I’m not there for the audience to clap for me. I’m there to give something to the audience. Respecting the audience, treating them with a reverence, treating the live stage with a reverence, and not treating it from the aspect of you’re there to gratify me. It’s like, “No, no, no. I’m there to give you something, and I want you to feel like you left with me giving something to you, almost like I’m a host.” You know what I mean?
Vinyl has made a resurgence in recent years. What are your thoughts on the vinyl revival?
There’s something so cool about pulling the vinyl out, laying it on the player, and moving the needle. It’s ritualistic. I’m a big car guy. I like washing my car as much as I like driving it. I mean, there’s all these ritualistic type of things that go along with the record player and vinyl that are super cool. There’s something so tactile when you hold the vinyl and pull it out of the sleeve, checking out the liner notes and art—all that stuff. Again, it’s just there’s more to music than the background of a commercial. That’s what vinyl represents and is to me. It’s just an end game when it comes to music.
Do you believe vinyl sounds different from current digital formats we are currently used to?
Now you’re kicking the lid off—we’re going to get into the minutiae. From my perspective, it begins with “Do you have the vinyl record player that can run through the same exact speakers that your digital stuff is running through?” My vinyl record player is upstairs, and it just runs through its own speakers, but downstairs I’ve got studio quality monitors that you can mix on. So, it’s like the whole equation is different.
But with that said, I do love the warmth of analog in general. Not even just vinyl but just like analog consoles. There’s a warmth to it. There’s a warmth to a tube amp. That’s why I didn’t use any modelers on my album. I just used a bunch of tube amps, like an old school guy living in a new school world. I mean, that’s really my whole thing—the “man out of time” type of shit, you know? But I do think it’s got its own character and its own quirks and things that make it really special. Just hearing that little hiss and pop when the needle drops down on the record before the song even starts is like, I’m already in. You know what I mean? At that point, I’m already drinking the Kool-Aid.
If you could give one piece of advice to aspiring musicians, what would it be and why?
This is a two-part answer and fairly straightforward—don’t do it for the money. Musicians who survive are the most tenacious. Tenacity and work ethic are everything. Don’t do it because you want to be rich. Do it because you love what you do. I think that’s the best advice I could ever give.
When the dust finally settles, what do you think your musical legacy will end up being?
I think that was why I made Charisma, because I was experiencing mortality with the loss of two incredibly important people in my life. I looked at my catalog and was like, “these are all good moments in time, but they don’t represent what I sound like, and they don’t represent the music that I want to leave behind.” So instead of just wallowing in that and complaining and bellyaching, I buckled down and made a record. I made something that I wanted, and I hope that’s something that I keep at the forefront when I make any record. I want to make something that I’m proud of to leave behind.
So, it’s all about the actual record?
Yes. From my perspective, it seems like nobody is making records. We have lots of great players and who release a few good songs here and there. I’m like, “Where are the albums? What are you going to do with it? Where’s the message?” Playing the instrument is just the price of admission, it’s just getting you into the world of music. Then, you actually have to say something.
So, what we’ve been discussing here today really means a lot to me because that’s what I always wanted to give the listener. I didn’t want to release an album full of hot shit playing to where they could go, “Oh, Andy is really great.” In the end, that’s not important. It’s not important enough. The message and story should always be the end goal of any record, and I truly believe my dad and granddad would be extremely proud seeing how Charisma finally ended up. It was their story, and I believe this album captured it perfectly.
