While some regard folk guitar as a relatively simple style, Noah Zacharin is a seriously agile fingerpicker. Also a fine singer/songwriter, his album, Points of Light, uses his six-string dexterity to serve both solo acoustic numbers and full-band pieces.
We chatted with the guitarist from his house in a forest in Canada – a place he poetically calls The Big Lonely.
Your fingerpicking is quite advanced.
My first big influence was John Fahey, a true visionary and pioneer. I loved his power, dissonance, and hypnotic beauty. Under his sway, I’d turn [tuning] pegs at random until I heard a chord I liked, and then – often lying on my back in the dark – would play an hour or so of pure music. I was also deeply affected by the gentle and deceptively “simple” playing of Mississippi John Hurt and Bert Jansch, who I adored.
On “Ten Tons of Road,” your guitar work actually lifts up the lyrics.
When we went to record that, [producer] Danny Greenspoon suggested I repeat the instrumental part at the end. I was reluctant, not wishing to play what I’d already played, but he insisted, so I added a variant double-stop I’d never thought of before, and a new arrangement was born, some 25 years after writing the song.
Some songs on Points of Light are solo guitar, others are with a full band.
Before the sessions, Danny and I discussed production extensively. The virtually unlimited number of tracks and ease that parts can be edited is a seductive siren. Happily, we were in solid agreement that we’d add nothing that might distract from the song or potentially derail its propulsion. That made it possible to keep my arrangements as played in solo performance. It’s also a testament to the other musicians’ tasteful playing and Danny’s mixing.
You’re a Collings endorser.
Yes, I am proud and grateful to be one of their artists. I know a number of players in town who bought OMs simply because of what they heard mine deliver. My first was a 1998 OM2 which quickly acquired a crack on the top – courtesy of a Canadian winter and a Canadian writer’s carelessness – that I believed made it sing. It was stolen from my home and replaced by a 2004 OM2H, which has long been my main stage guitar. I also play a ’71 J-50, a ’75 Tele thinline, a Froggy Bottom, Collings 000, and a gorgeous Lowden O-25. I also purchased a ’47 ES-150 and Lowden’s The Baritone a little more recently. One can never have too many guitars (laughs)!
“Been A Long Day” was recorded with a 1956 J-45.
That’s Danny’s guitar. He brought it for me to try, but because the neck is so different from my Collings, I wasn’t sure I could play it well. We recorded takes on both and ended up selecting one played on the Gibson. A few months before that, he’d been evaluating two J-45s of similar vintage. I encouraged him to buy one, assuring him I’d take it off his hands if he didn’t like it. While on tour in Texas, he texted to say he was going to trade it for the other, a ’57, unless I wanted it. Of course I said, “Yes,” and now look forward to finding what songs are inside that senior citizen.
What kind of pickup system do you use onstage?
An L.R. Baggs M1 soundhole pickup into a Baggs Para Acoustic DI EQ. The path from there depends on the venue. For house concerts and smaller venues, I use a Fishman Loudbox Artist amp; for larger ones, I rely on the gear and skills of the sound man.
Canada has such a rich tradition of folk music, from Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, and Leonard Cohen to Gordon Lightfoot, Ian & Sylvia, Jesse Winchester, and Stan Rogers. What is intrinsically Canadian in your music?
As for Jesse Winchester, we Montrealers proudly claim him as one of our own. And Stan Rogers, I got to see him with the trio at The Yellow Door in Montreal – a small coffeehouse and my early training ground. I bought the great Between the Breaks LP from him that night.
But I grew up and remain a devotee of the music known as Americana, though I live in a forest midway between Ottawa and Toronto, which seems a quintessential Canadian location. The working title for one of my future projects is “In the Big Lonely.” I can’t speak for my fellow Canadians, but would posit that big sky, falling stars, great distances, and long winter’s isolation, purity, and power can’t help but shape a shared psyche. In the big lonely, we turn to music. In the big lonely, I sing to the coyotes and bluejays.
This article originally appeared in VG’s February 2024 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
