If you come into Greg Howe’s conversation with Rodrigo Altaf expecting a victory lap about chops, you’ll get something else: an artist who keeps dragging the discussion back to intent. Yes, the new Darwin album, Distorted Mirror, has the kind of playing people shorthand as “shredding.” But the first thing Howe does is try to remove the word from the center of the story: “I like to not think of it as shredding. I really try not to. I just try to play things that feel like the song needs that… but I suppose it’s inevitable that that comes out.”
When he explains how he builds solos, it’s the same mindset—less about flexing vocabulary, more about whether the part belongs. He likes the “storyline” arc (slow start, build, peak, conclusion), but he’s careful not to turn it into a rule.
“I think that… that storyline approach… is often a good… It’s an effective way to sort of see a solo. I don’t know that it’s always appropriate… I mean, sometimes… mayhem is what it calls for. For me, it’s more about hearing the part and feeling like… if I’m a listener and I don’t play guitar… so I’m not thinking about scales.
“And what is it that feels like it belongs here? Really? That’s… foundational. I really try to step outside of being a musician and ask myself what kind of… accessorizing to this part could we do? With a guitar that’s gonna… take the whole vision and make it even more… more accurate,” Howe offers.
Then he says the quiet part out loud: for all the reputation built on facility, he’s still chasing restraint. He hears players who can say more with less, and he envies it—plainly, without the performative humility.
“Truth be told, I often really envy guys who are able to do that without all the craziness… I really do envy that. There are just certain guitarists and just musicians in general who can say so much without needing to do all that, and I’m still working on that. I would love to get to a point where I really feel great about big statements made with fewer notes.”
The interview also lands right on the unavoidable 2025 question: AI. Because Distorted Mirror is framed around “man vs machine.” Howe hasn’t used AI to write music, but he’s not dismissing it either. He sounds wary, curious, and practical in the same breath:
“I have not done that. I really haven’t done that. At some point, I’d be curious just to see what that’s about. I don’t necessarily look forward to the world that… we’re heading to now, but I certainly don’t want to be left behind. If you’re going to survive in it, you’d better stay up on what’s happening.”
But the most revealing detour is the one where Howe explains what he’s actually been trying to do with his career: move toward a vocal band, be the rhythm guy, take the short solo, step back. He even tells a story involving The Aristocrats and Guthrie — how he was asked, but turned it down because he was chasing something else with Marigold.
“My ultimate goal is to be in a vocal band,” he reveals. “I had just put Marigold together, and I just got the singer, and we were starting to write when they called me. I was like, ‘I don’t think I’m available for that guys’… I’m trying to pursue something, I’m trying to go the other way…”
Then he delivers the punchline that doubles as a thesis for how he’s perceived versus how he sees himself: “I’ve always wanted to be in a vocal band. Being the guy in the back, play rhythm guitar, have 16 bars for a solo and then go back, it doesn’t work for whatever reason… the universe keeps putting me out front.”
That same “restless” personality shows up when he talks about making albums. He admits he sometimes envies artists who can lock into a lane and repeat it, because it makes everything easier. But when he hears himself echoing his own past, it hits him like a physical reaction.
“I actually envy people. There are artists who put album after album out… and they all kind of sound the same. For me, I can’t; I get almost uncomfortable. It’s almost physically painful when I hear myself doing something that reminds me of the song on my last album, I’m like no no no stop, I’m slapping my wrist.”
And finally, the quote that explains why so much of his playing feels “vocal” even when it’s undeniably technical—because guitar, to him, is secondary. Song is the agenda. Everything else is decoration.
“Composition is everything. Guitar playing is a lot of fun, but it’s a distant second. If they outlawed guitar playing in the world, I would still very much be into music and creating, because it’s the creative process that keeps me inspired. Guitar playing is sprinkles. It’s the icing… it’s fun. But the actual song is everything to me,” Howe reflects.
Even when the conversation turns to touring realities — mid-level artists getting squeezed as Live Nation buys venues — his tone stays matter-of-fact. He talks numbers (300–500-cap rooms, “pretty much sold out” on most nights), then shrugs at the bigger machine behind it.
“The venues, three to five hundred seaters, and we were pretty much sold out with 90% of them. It’s good for me. I’m not a guy that’s doing 1,200 per room. You know the way of the world, the big corporate entities eventually buy up everything, and it usually doesn’t work out for most of us.”
That’s Greg Howe in a nutshell: acknowledging the world as it is — industry, tech, expectations — while quietly insisting on one priority that never changes. Not “guitar first.” Not “shred first.” The song first.
