Kate Stanton talks with guitarist and songwriter Mick Overmere about finding his signature sound, writing from instinct, and transforming a lifetime of influence and experience into music that is entirely his own.
By Kate Stanton
October 19, 2026
Some musicians use lyrics to tell us what they feel. Others let their instruments do the talking. Some do both. For guitarist and songwriter Mick Overmere, a lifetime of playing has become a language of its own.
There is something distinctive about a guitarist whose sound you can recognize without knowing the song. I can do this with Mick’s music. When I hear his songs on indie radio or during livestream shows, I recognize his guitar tone before I even need to look. That signature sound is what makes an artist recognizable, and it’s why I was glad he agreed to talk with me about his musical journey.
Mick has been performing since he was 15, playing for audiences across the United States and Europe. His influences include Keith Richards, Eric Clapton, Allen Collins, Michael Schenker, and Carlos Santana. But what he took from these musicians wasn’t simply a set of techniques to imitate. It was the importance of creating melodies people can hum and always playing from the heart.
Over time, Mick’s tone and style developed through a blending of those influences until they became something uniquely his own. That’s the interesting thing about musical influence. We begin by admiring other musicians, absorbing what moves us, and eventually finding our own voice.
When the Guitar Becomes Part of You
When I asked Mick what makes a guitar the right guitar, his answer was simple.
“When the guitar is the right one it feels like it’s a part of your body.”
His choices are a Les Paul Custom electric guitar and a Martin acoustic, two instruments he has used for years. The Les Paul Custom has a rich, commanding sound and a long history in rock music. I think of Randy Rhoads and Zakk Wylde, with his unmistakable black-and-white bullseye guitar. Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page also played a three-pickup Les Paul Custom, which was stolen in 1970.
The Martin acoustic has its own place in music history, having been played by everyone from Johnny Cash, the Man in Black, to Bob Dylan. Mick is in good company.
Eventually, the relationship between a musician and an instrument becomes about more than equipment, make, or model. It becomes a matter of familiarity, feel, and trust. The instrument becomes part of a musician’s personality. I often joke that music is my lifelong friend, but it’s true. Music is our family.
Mick’s guitar tone is remarkably consistent throughout his music. It has a character of its own, and I consider it a signature sound. I’m not exaggerating when I say I can pick out his guitar tone before I even know the song. We often appear on the same indie playlists or shows, and I instantly recognize him. When I asked how much of that sound comes from the guitar and how much comes from the player, he estimated 25 percent from the instrument and 75 percent from himself.
Mick also believes a guitarist’s tone eventually becomes a fingerprint. I think that’s one of the most compelling things about developing a musical identity. You can learn from your influences, but you can’t manufacture the years of experience that shape your touch, phrasing, and instincts. You become a prism of your influences and experiences. The musical light shines through it in your own unique way.
Eric Clapton offers a perfect example of what a guitar can express. As Mick puts it, “Eric Clapton can stretch one note and it can touch your soul.”
One note. Sometimes that’s all it takes. The craft isn’t always about how much you can play, but knowing what a song needs and when to let a note breathe. There is a reason musicians talk about the space between the notes. Sometimes what you leave unsaid is just as important as what you play.
The Song That Finds Its Way to You
For Mick, songwriting begins with feeling and melody. The initial spark usually comes quickly, and then comes the work of shaping the idea. Some songs happen quickly, some take time, and some never come to fruition.
He describes songwriting as the one time he is completely present.
“That’s the one time that I can say that I’m completely living in the moment and the only thing that I’m focused on is the song.”
I like that description. The distractions fall away, and all that matters is what’s taking shape inside of you.
Mick also believes songs are a gift from a higher power. When a song is finished, particularly one with lyrics, he says it lets him know. His response is, “That’s it. Thank you, God.”
There’s a balance here between doing the work and knowing when to stop. A songwriter has to shape the material and make decisions, but sometimes the finished piece feels discovered as much as created.
That happened quite literally with “One Less Gift.” The melody and opening lines came to Mick in a dream, prompting him to get out of bed and grab a tape recorder.
This reminds me of Paul McCartney’s famous story about waking up with the melody for “Yesterday” in his head. He initially used the placeholder lyrics “Scrambled Eggs” while he worked out what the song might become. I’ll have to ask Mick next time if he has any funny stories about the songs that arrive in his dreams. Creativity has its own mysterious timing, and sometimes inspiration arrives before we even know what to do with it!
I’m always interested in those moments when an idea arrives unexpectedly. We can work at creativity, but we can’t always dictate when inspiration will strike. Sometimes the important thing is being ready to follow it.
Mick’s idea of writing a song that is “simple and true” is equally grounded. Simple means writing something most people can relate to. True means staying faithful to the kind of music that moves you rather than trying to write in a genre you don’t genuinely care about.
Simplicity isn’t necessarily a lack of sophistication. Sometimes it comes from knowing exactly what belongs in a song and what doesn’t.
Dancing Through Raindrops
Instrumental music leaves room for listeners to find their own meaning. Without lyrics to tell us what to feel, the melody must do the expressing.
Mick believes music is a universal language, and he says the meaning of an instrumental often emerges as the song takes shape.
His “Dancing Through Raindrops” has an especially interesting origin. Mick doesn’t specifically remember what was happening when the music came to him, although he suspects it may have been raining. The title, however, came from a baseball game he was watching. A pitcher kept allowing runners on base but somehow managed to get out of trouble each time. The announcer described him as “dancing through raindrops.” I love this connection because baseball announcers, like musicians, translate an experience into something their audience can feel. The announcer uses words to capture the tension and drama of the game, while a musician uses melody and sound to express emotion. I can see how that memorable phrase inspired Mick!
For Mick, the phrase captures the ability to handle adversity and keep moving with a positive attitude. A passing phrase finds its way into a musician’s imagination and becomes something else entirely. Sometimes creativity is simply a matter of noticing something and seeing where it takes you.
“Tears for Yesterday” carries a different feeling. Mick describes it as nostalgia and the wish to relive certain moments, along with the sadness of remembering people we love who are no longer with us.
A song can take us back to a particular time in our lives in a way few other things can. As Mick observes, it can bring back a specific moment better than any picture. Music doesn’t merely remind us that something happened. Sometimes, for a moment, it makes the memory feel close enough to touch.
A Landscape of Joy and Reflection
The Catskill Mountains in upstate New York are another source of inspiration for Mick. Asked what the landscape gives him, he answers, “Joy, reflection and thankfulness.”
He says the light, seasons, quiet, and scale of the mountains all contribute to that inspiration. If the Catskills could write one of his songs, he imagines something in the vein of Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. I love their collaborative work, too. There is something special about the way her crystalline soprano blends with his rough-edged rock voice which has aged like fine wine. Coincidentally, I’ve discovered through research for this article, that there are quite a few wineries in the Catskills. They seem like the perfect places to hear Mick’s sophisticated musicianship.
I can understand the appeal of a landscape that gives you room to think. Sometimes a place doesn’t hand you a finished idea. It simply changes how you feel, and that feeling eventually finds its way into your work.
Our environments have a way of changing our perceptions. A familiar thought can look different when we encounter a new landscape, hear an unexpected sound, or simply give ourselves enough quiet to notice what is around us. Artists thrive on these perceptive shifts. Author Austin Kleon calls it the art of noticing, the practice of paying attention to the little things in life that others might overlook. Mick’s music reflects this beautifully. Whether it is the Catskills, a dream, or a baseball game, he finds inspiration in the world around him and translates that into original music.
For Mick, the connection also seems to come down to reflection and gratitude.
A Lifetime of Playing
After performing since he was 15 and touring Europe and the United States, Mick has seen how many different kinds of people there are in the world. What connects them, he believes, is music’s ability to bring out emotion.
Joy, sorrow, longing for someone or somewhere. We may not share a language or background, but we can recognize those feelings in a melody.
His advice to someone who played an instrument years ago and is thinking about picking it up again is straightforward:
“Go for it. It will bring you joy just as it used to. Music is something that remains in your soul for life.”
There’s no requirement that returning to an instrument lead to a performance, a recording contract, or a new career. The joy itself is reason enough. Let me repeat that: The joy of making music is reason enough. Not everything we do has to become a product or lead to a measurable achievement. Sometimes, we play simply because it makes us feel more like ourselves. Research has even shown that prioritizing creativity over consumption can help us cultivate a more joyful life.
That is something worth remembering, especially when so much of our lives revolves around productivity and accomplishment. Music can be something we do simply because we love it. It can remain a companion through every season of life.
The Value of the Human Touch
We live in a time when technology can produce polished recordings, generate arrangements, and imitate familiar musical styles with increasing ease. As artificial intelligence changes the creative landscape, I think it’s worth paying attention to what makes a musician’s sound distinctive.
Mick’s guitar tone isn’t simply a sound setting. It reflects years of playing, years of living, influences absorbed over time, and a particular relationship with his instrument. That consistency is a form of craft. Mick is a craftsman of songs, a music maker, a dreamer of dreams.
This isn’t an argument against technology. Tools have always changed how music is made and recorded. But ease of production isn’t the same as a lifetime of musicianship. A polished recording can impress us; a musical fingerprint gives us something personal to recognize. That recognizable guitar tone and style are what I think of as an artist’s signature sound.
Mick’s estimate that the guitar accounts for 25 percent of his sound and the player for 75 percent feels especially relevant. The equipment matters, but it’s the person who makes the sound his own. The musician is the conduit through which experience, feeling, and influence become something we can hear.
I also appreciate that Mick doesn’t feel the need to overexplain his creative process. His answers are direct, and he seems content to let the guitar do much of the talking. Not every musician needs to explain every note. Sometimes the work speaks for itself.
When I asked what he hopes people feel after listening to one of his songs, he said he hopes it makes them feel some kind of emotion. And when I asked him to describe what music means to him without using the word itself, he answered:
“A gift from God given to us all.”
Perhaps that’s the heart of it. A song begins with a feeling that may be difficult to explain. A musician gives it shape, and eventually something deeply personal becomes something another person can feel, too.
In the end, a signature sound is more than a particular guitar or a recognizable tone. It is the accumulation of Mick’s influences, experiences, instincts, and years of work. We can learn from others, experiment with new tools, and explore different ways of making music. But finding our own voice takes time, attention, and a willingness to let our experiences become part of what we create.
Sometimes one note says more than a thousand words.
Until next time, creators, follow your bliss.
Listen and Connect with Mick Overmere
Listen and Connect with Mick Overmere
Listen
Spotify
https://open.spotify.com/artist/6XqFmDwHlTAPK2cn5Z69Jk
Watch
“Tears for Yesterday”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLosRDhjpkI
“Dancing Through Raindrops”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUHeyMozCOA
“Pumpkin Patch” — Halloween-themed song
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_mh881J0xSe3FhxNpfgkgUXpbECezXFODI
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