This is more than just an album by the late R&B great Charles Brown. It’s truly the story of a life – a scrapbook of history, photos, testimonials, music, vintage film clips, a live concert, discography, and more packed onto a CD, DVD, and liner booklet.
Brown was truly one of the stars of rhythm and blues. He boasted some 26 Billboard chart hits, numerous Grammy nominations, multiple WC Handy Awards, and a ’97 National Endowment For The Arts National Heritage Award. Last, but far from least, he was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1999, the year of his death.
Above all, however, he made great music. This CD collects 10 tracks from a 1990 concert at the Lone Star Roadhouse, backed by a DVD film of the performance. The show includes several of his greatest hits, including “Drifting Blues,” “Seven Long Days,” and “Merry Christmas Baby.”
Best yet are two short films of Brown with Johnny Moore’s Three Blazers in 1945. These “soundies” are part old-time kitsch, part classic cool, showing the band making R&B history.
If you’re a Brown fan, you can’t be without this collection.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s June ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
NO matter how good you think you are, you’re no Richie Kotzen. Like a superhero, Kotzen uses his powers for good, coming to the rescue for bands such as Poison, and more than filling the hyper-speed picking shoes of Paul Gilbert in Mr. Big. Add to that his collaboration with Stanley Clarke and Lenny White on the jazz-fusion project Vertu, and it’s undeniable that versatility and chops are Kotzen’s middle name.
With 14 solo albums and a penchant for shred, soul, and blues, Kotzen has the rare ability to play one note or a zillion, and make you feel it. His latest release, Get Up, marks the evolution of an artist in transition. We recently caught up with him to discuss it.
Vintage Guitar: What was the turning point for you as a musician? Richie Kotzen: I think singing has helped me the most. Once I embraced it and felt comfortable with it, it changed my guitar playing for the better. It was like I had another instrument, another way to express myself. A lot of times, a guitar player who doesn’t have vocal sensibilities will end up stepping on the singer, which is not what you want to do! Singing helps me understand and balance things between the two.
Besides singing, were there any guitar epiphanies?
By the time I joined Poison, I’d made three of my own records and I think I was prepared as a musician to do something different.
Getting away from the shred stuff…
Yeah, and that kind of happened naturally. I don’t think it was a conscious effort. All of a sudden I just stopped playing that way. I stopped playing like a teenager and started playing like a grown-up (laughs)!
What inspires you?
Getting away from music. In the past I was always one of those musicians who was constantly playing. Then my interest in music changed. It went from the mechanics of music to the art of music. I got more interested in writing songs and recording and making records than learning about the guitar. Now, after making records for all these years, getting away from it is the best. I’ll go a month without even messing with a guitar. Then, when I get back to the music, I feel inspired. I feel like I have something to write about.
Talk about your latest release, Get Up.
My previous record, Change, was written over the course of a year or so. I’d write a song, record it, then work in my backyard. With Get Up, I didn’t have any songs that I liked, so I had to start over. I got into writing mode, got a bunch of ideas, and felt I had enough for a record. I literally booked myself in my own recording studio. I went in and did it as if I didn’t have my own studio. I didn’t have the luxury of taking all day. I went in and did it, and it came out a lot more cohesive in a lot of ways. It sounds like all the songs are recorded at the same time, which I haven’t done in awhile.
I wanted to make it like my original records, like Fever Dream or Mother Head’s Family Reunion – guitar, bass, drums, and a voice. That’s what I wanted to do with this record, go back to where I started, musically. I wanted to make one cohesive sound that would encompass who I am. If someone were to ask, “Who is Richie Kotzen?,” I can hand them Get Up.
Your live set has a blue-eyed soul vibe. You close with the soul classic “Losing You,” and it fits right in.
I’m just doing what I do. I don’t know what the hell to call it. In a way, it has always been a problem for me because what I do doesn’t necessarily fit into a standard formula of what’s being sold. It makes it a challenge and makes it difficult in some ways. Once people hear it, they seem to like it. It’s kind of frustrating, trying to find someone willing to go out on a limb, push it, and get it out there.
Does that bother you?
It can’t really bother me because I can’t change who I am. I understand that I’m not a teen pop [artist]. I get that I’m a guitar player who sings and writes songs. I’m soulful. I’ve been told that I have that sound. If there’s a market for that, great. I know I’m selling records, because I’m getting paid. So at some level, I’m kind of doing it. It’s just that I’m not doing it on the level of Bruce Springsteen.
You now have your own commercial recording facility.
Two years ago, I bought a building in North Hollywood and built a studio. Not necessarily because I wanted to be in the studio business, but because of the relationships that could be developed by having a facility where people could come and work. The concept of production has always been very attractive to me. The idea of finding a band I could develop and get involved with on that level is something I really want to do. The studio is all part of that plan. We’ve had a lot of great clients.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s Nov ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Hall in 1952, playing in Alaska during her first stint in a band.
There are very few, If any, women mentioned amidst the often discussed legends of the steel guitar, but Marian Hall is one to remember.
Marian was part of the West Coast wave of artists and musicians who brought their own sounds and styles to the vital musical movement of country, jazz and swing in the ’50s and early ’60s. Her varied career as both sideman and bandleader launched her into the center of it all.
Perched on a stool behind her Bigsby steel, Marian adds her classic “smooth and smokin’” style to the house band of Tex Ritter’s “Ranch Party” television show, as well as those by Spade Cooley and Tex Williams.
Under contract with Columbia Records, as well as the Sage & Sand label, she recorded with artists too numerous to mention in one article, and somewhere in between it all was also a wife and mother. This was an era where the woman’s place was in the home, not out lugging a steel guitar around and jamming with the likes of Joe Maphis and Merle Travis.
From 1954 to 1958 Marian was a member of the house band for the “Town Hall Party” and “Ranch Party” TV shows. Other members were Joe Maphis and Merle Travis, guitars; Buddy Dooley, bass; Pee Wee Adams, drums; Jimmy Pruett, piano; Fiddlin’ Kate and Billy Hill, fiddles; and Ray Cline, accordion. “Town Hall Party,” broadcast locally, eventually led to a nationally syndicated version, “Ranch Party.” Hosted by Tex Ritter, it featured appearances by the country and rockabilly stars of the day, including Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, the Collins Kids, Ray Price, Carl Perkins, Jim Reeves, and many others.
(LEFT TO RIGHT) Hall (sitting) with her sister, Joanie – the Saddle Sweethearts. Hall with Merle Travis and Joe Maphis on the set at “Town Hall Party.” Hall in the early 1970s with actor Doug McClure, at a state fair perfomance.
Filming both shows added up to seven days a week, 16 hours a day, and “Ranch Party” had no live audience. Fake audience shots and applause tracks were dropped in; each performance was saved; and the shows were spliced together later for the full effect of a variety show.
In the late 1950s Hall joined fiddler/bandleader Spade Cooley, a huge western swing star on the West Coast, with hits like “Shame On You,” “Detour,” and “Oklahoma Stomp.” Marian played in Spade’s all-female orchestra and then his regular group. Cooley became infamous when he murdered his wife in 1961. He was sentenced to life in prison and died in 1969.
After leaving Cooley’s band, Marian went to work for Tex Williams, doing local and regional work and “Country Style USA,” a radio transcription show for the Army. A former vocalist with Cooley, Williams formed his own outfit, the Texas Caravan, and had hits like “Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette).” Marian played with Tex for about three years, and worked on his TV show – including the period she was pregnant with her second child. She says, “It was some of the most fun and challenging music of my career.”
In the late ’60s, Marian worked for Doyle O’Dell, and in the early ’70s performed with a western review at fairs and rodeos. The show featured stars of popular western television series appearing in character, such as Doug McClure from “The Virginian” and cast members from “Bonanza” and “Gunsmoke.” She was also a bandleader for Disneyland, holding court at the Tomorrowland theatre and as a featured performer in Disney’s amazing annual Christmas parades.
In 1985, Marian did her last show, with the Frontiersman Family, which featured her sister Joanie, her Saddle Sweetheart partner from the very beginning.
I got to meet Marian in the late ’90s when I was in California performing with Asleep At The Wheel. She and her husband, Larry Landers, came to our hotel before the show, and as they walked across the parking lot, I immediately recognized Marian and her mega-watt smile from seeing her in the film clips of “Ranch Party.” At that moment, it seemed as if she had climbed out of the black-and-white world of a 1958 television show and into that parking lot.
She’s a warm, wonderful, and brilliant person, and I thank her for taking the time to share some of her story here. At the end of our interview, when I asked her if she had any advice for steel players who are just beginning, she concluded, “Be passionate about it, just love it, and dive in and be brave enough to try different things.” Marian Hall is obviously a person who followed her own advice, and is truly among the legends and pioneers of the steel guitar.
(LEFT TO RIGHT) Hall in the 1970s with Randy Price and the Jubilaires. The “Town Hall Party” band during a special Halloween show. 6 Hall’s first album was titled First Star. Hall with a portion of the nearly 30 members of the Town Hall cast.
Vintage Guitar: Where did you grow up, and when did you start playing? Marian Hall: I’m a native-born Californian; I was born in downtown Los Angeles, and have always lived in California. I started playing when I was about eight or nine. My mom sent me to a little music store down the street, and a Hawaiian man there taught me how to play on the six-string lap guitar. He showed me how to hold the bar, do vibrato, and play some Hawaiian songs. I don’t even remember what my tuning was, probably a 6th tuning of some kind.
Before all of that, at the age of three, I was tap-dancing in shows. By the age of 12, my sister Joanie and I had our own act, the Saddle Sweethearts. Oh Lord! Joanie played standard guitar, I had an Oahu lap steel with “mother-of-pearl” finish and matching amp, and we both sang. We did shows on “pioneer television,” back when the makeup was orange and the director was also the janitor that swept up at the end of the day. There were TV antennas on about every fourth house then.
What was your first “real” club gig like? Were you playing a different steel at that point?
Well, when Joanie decided she’d had enough of the Saddle Sweethearts and went off on her own, I gave some serious thought to everything, especially about what would be the very best guitar to get. I found out it was a Bigsby, and my folks bought me a 1952 Double-8.
I still really didn’t know very much about really playing the steel at that point, and then I got my first job, which, thank goodness, was in Alaska! I was 17 with a fake ID; they paid the bill for me to fly there, and they had to keep me there for two weeks until the accordion player could show up. It was an all-girl band, and we played in a small club up behind the bar about five or six nights a week. There was rhythm guitar, bass, fiddle, and me, and, believe me, those girls played much better than I did – which wouldn’t have taken much! I remember having to look at the chord sheet for “San Antonio Rose.” I don’t know how I got the gall to do it, but I did. It was an excruciating experience in a way, like being thrown into the deep end of a pool. You learn to swim or you drown. But by the time I got back to California, I was capable of holding down a job in a typical bar or club.
What kind of gigs did you do when you got back?
I went to work for Wayne West in Norwalk, up behind a bar in a club again. The thing that impressed Wayne about me was that I didn’t play all over the top of him. He had a very classical voice and sang things like “Old Man River.” I always figured that you play so that the singer sounds good, and not play everything that you do – so he really liked that.
I was only with Wayne for a few weeks, because I had made another commitment to work for a club bandleader by the name of Tex Wallace. Wayne offered me a raise to stay; scale at that time was $12 a night, and he offered me $13. That was a big deal at that time, when the union was strong. Take-home pay was about $52 for playing six nights a week, but I didn’t care; I loved it. Every band I was in taught me a lot.
How did you get the job for both “Town Hall Party” and “Ranch Party”?
I got a call to sub for the steel player for “Town Hall Party.” Noel Boggs was up for the job too, but I got it! I didn’t even politic for it; I just went in and did my normal thing of playing to the singer.
What was a typical rehearsal for “Ranch Party” like? There are great moments with you and Joe Maphis playing twin parts, sounding like you’d spent a lot of time on them.
You’d get a script printed out with the song order and the keys. We’d talk through who would take the intro and turnaround and things like that, but we usually just did a few quick run-throughs. A lot of it was really on the fly.
Let’s talk about your steels and how you got into using pedals.
When I got the 1952 Bigsby D-8, I used E6th and A6th. Even before hearing Bud Isaccs’ famous pedal intro on “Slowly” (by Webb Pierce), I had some idea to experiment. I had Paul Bigsby put a hand lever on the side of my steel; it changed the A6th to an E13, and that was my way of getting three necks out of two. After finally hearing Bud and figuring out the intervals, I had two regular pedals put on the E6th to change it to E13, and got rid of the hand lever on the A6 neck. In 1958, I got another Bigsby, but I wish I knew what happened to the one I got rid of. The new one had 10 strings on one neck and eight on the other, but I had that neck converted to a leaning pad, and stuck with the 10 strings in E6th. I eventually ended up with six pedals, but no knee levers.
What was Paul Bigsby’s shop like?
Paul’s house was in the industrial area of Downey, California. His shop was in a garage that was attached to his house, and it was sort of nondescript and plain. There were two wooden benches – one with a blanket and the usual assortment of tools and things – and his clients’ photos on the wall. He had a piece of cardboard hanging up that had months and a name next to the month for each client; that’s how long he’d take to make each steel. He didn’t keep records, so that was his way of keeping track.
Describe his steels. They had such an identifiable tone.
They had a birdseye maple body, with your name engraved on the front, and the end pieces were cast aluminum, as were his volume pedals and later the vibrato bars. Paul had, at one time, been a patternmaker by trade, and cast aluminum was the material he was used to working with – that’s why he used it.
Paul used to race motorcycles when he was young, and was obviously very good at it and loved it. He had glass cabinets just full of racing trophies and pictures. Supposedly, he met Merle Travis at one of those races, and it was Merle who got him to build his first guitar. Merle designed the idea on a napkin – the idea of having a solidbody electric guitar with all the tuning gears on just the one side of the headstock – but Leo Fender got hold of the idea too, and ran with it.
What type of amp and volume pedal did you use?
I have a Bigsby volume pedal, and the tread is all worn away on the lower right-hand corner! They have that left-to-right movement for the bass and treble and “wah” attack. They’re great.
My favorite amp was my Standel, which I got in 1954; why I ended up getting rid of it, I don’t know. They were touchy, like a Jaguar car, and you had to change the tubes a lot, but I loved it. Nothing ever sounded the same after I got rid of it. I used a Fender Reverb tank with it, and I played with a thumbpick and three fingerpicks. You can get four solid notes like that, the root, third, fifth and sixth for example. I liked being able to get different intervals, like moving the third up an octave higher. I really recommend wearing three fingerpicks if you want to get interesting chords.
When did you work with Spade Cooley?
The Spade Cooley television show happened towards the end of “Ranch Party,” around 1958. The only existing remnants of it, as far as I know, are on Kinescope, because it was a local program. It was a very intriguing show; there was a huge all-female orchestra with a horn section, harp, percussion, just everything. I didn’t read music very well, but I knew the arrangements by ear, so they’d tell me which intros to play and things like that.
I think it ran for about a season, and when it ended, Spade asked me to be part of his regular band for a daily local TV show on KXLA, and I felt good about that. I worked with him on that show up until the unfortunate time that he killed his wife.
What was he like to work with?
He was fine, but he was very nervous. He’d get very tense before a show, but he wasn’t hard on the people around him. It was just that he, personally, was very uptight. He was always very gracious, which ran against the idea that he could beat his wife to death.
MARIAN’S SETUP
Marian’s tuning is an E6th, with a high G# added at the top and a low E added at the bottom, she says, “To get more range.” Pedal 1 is the “Bud Isaacs”’ adaptation. Pedal 2 yields a B6 or G#m7. Pedal 3 creates an Em6 or a B-5. Pedal 4 is a 7th, 9th or 13th, depending on how many strings are played. Pedal 5 is Marian’s invention, executed by Paul Bigsby; it is used in combination with Pedal 4 and interferes with half of #4’s function, raising the E to F (instead of F#) while the C# still goes to D – for a diminished chord. Pedal 6 yields an Amaj7.
While you were in Tex Williams’ band, how were you able to deal with working and being pregnant on TV at that time?
When I found out I was pregnant, I told them so they could get a replacement, but they never found anybody they wanted. I put a full-faced board of birdseye maple on the front of my steel, for dignity’s sake, and called it my “console guitar,” and remained on the show up until my due date.
Billy Armstrong was the bandleader, and a fabulous musician. I wish I knew where he was now. He finally said to me, “Go home, you’re making me nervous!” I did, and gave birth to my son, Bill, three weeks later.
The style of music obviously took a turn in the ’60s and ’70s. Did you ever use any different guitars or effects?
Well, the combos of bands were getting smaller, so I was always trying to come up with ways to sound different and fill out the sound of the bands. I don’t know what possessed me, but I always wanted to play through sound-altering things. I guess I was like Chet Atkins in a way; he always said he “didn’t know you couldn’t do that.” He tried everything. I used to haul a Leslie around with me; my favorite sound with that was an early-’70s single release I did called “First Star Tonight.” The other effects I used over time were a wah pedal, a Dr. Q pedal [envelope filter] and probably a few other things.
Who were some of the artists you recorded with when you were under contract with Columbia?
There were a lot. I have boxes of 45s and LPs that I’d love to get converted to CDs. Some of the artists were Gene Autry and Rosemary Clooney, Johnny Bond, the Collins Kids, Rose and Joe Maphis, Tex Ritter, the Town Hall Party Band, and Merle Travis. Merle was my favorite; he was brilliant. I think the one thing that people may not know about him was that he was a genius. I also recorded with Freddie Hart on a couple of his hits for Capitol, like “Drink Up And Go Home” and “Canada To Tennessee.” On the Sage & Sand label, some of the recordings I did were with Eddie Dean, Hal Southern, and my sister Joanie.
Did you do much writing?
Around 1972 to ’75, I was recording vocals and writing songs. Glenn Campbell recorded two songs I had written. I was at the session. But they were never released, and I didn’t pursue it any further. I met Glenn when I was working for Disneyland and he was a guest star there.
Who are some of the steel players you admire, and who influenced you the most?
I think Jerry Byrd is exceptional; he had more innate ability than anyone on the six-string steel. Joaquin Murphy was amazing, and I like Buddy Emmons, too. I admire anybody who’s “first in line” with things.
As far as influences, I actually fashioned a lot of what I played after standard guitar players. Dicky Phillips was one; he played with Tex Williams. He would play with the guitar in his lap in regular tuning, and would mash his fingers down to make the chords. I also loved Jimmy Wyble’s playing. He worked with Bob Wills for a bit, then Red Norvo, and a lot of others.
What has occupied you since your last show with the Frontiersman Family in ’85?
In the ’70s, I lucked out and invested in properties in California, and now that takes care of me. I also want to say how grateful I am that I got to earn a living playing steel guitar. It was a wonderful life, and I’m glad I got to do it.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s September ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
With his debut album in 1966, harmonica vanguard Charlie Musselwhite met and set the standard for authenticity and adventurism in blues. But in the past few years,
Here’s an early favorite for album of the year. And what’s odd is, lyrically, I have very little interest. It’s set up as a sort of rock-and-roll opera that covers 10,000 years of ethnic fighting, and the life of a test-tube baby. Yes, it’s a science fiction concept that interests me not even a little. But the music is magical.
The Honeydogs have been around a few years now, but I don’t recall them being this ambitious. Noah and Adam Levy were members of a Twin Cities band called the Picadors, but again, I don’t recall it being this wide in scope. Needless to say, I’ve an ordered the other two Honeydog records.
Musically, the Beatles are a good place to start if you’re going to point to influences. There are swirling guitar parts and vocals that call to mind Sgt. Pepper-era Fab Four. Guitars sound like they’re possessed by the fingers of George Harrison. There are Middle East and Indian hints in the music that add to, but never overpower, the rest of the song. The piano sound on many of the tunes is extremely Beatle-esque. Things are layered beautifully; guitars, strings, piano… everything sounds incredible together. It’s aural heaven.
That said, there’s a lot more here, too. The German cabaret sound of “Were the Heavens Standing Blindly” is a perfect complement to the sound of the rest of the record. Things end on a Brazilian note with some really nice acoustic and electric guitar on “23rd Chromosome.” Adam Levy’s vocals also have a great sound. They are, except on the aforementioned times when there are effects, very dry. It’s a sound that harkens back to the ’70s. I’m assuming some of the credit for the sound must go to co-producer John Fields.
I said earlier the lyrics weren’t a big concern here for me, but some of the songs work great outside the scope of the story. “Panhandler’s Serenade” is an incredible song, with a sound and a lyric that would make it a huge hit on most any radio station. The wordplay is very nice and fits the layered music perfectly. Same for “Ms. Anne Thrope” (get it?).
I admit to being firmly in love with just the sound of this record. I’d be extremely surprised if anything comes along this year that sounds this good.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s July ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
When Gibson’s F-5 was introduced in mid 1922, it was part of the series of Style 5 “Master Models” consisting of the F-5 mandolin, H-5 mandola, K-5 mandocello, and the L-5 guitar. These instruments all featured a special oval-shaped Master Model label visible through the bass-side f hole, and a matching-shape signature label signed and dated by Gibson acoustical engineer Lloyd Loar (visible through the treble-side f hole).
After Loar left the company at the end of 1924, the signature labels were discontinued and the specifications of the instruments were altered. In the opinion of the overwhelming majority of players and collectors, the Loar-signed Master Model instruments are the great pinnacle of perfection in mandolin family instruments such that today they are greatly sought by collectors as well as musicians and command the highest prices of any mandolin family instruments ever manufactured by any maker.
When the F-5 and the other Master Model instruments were introduced, they were highly innovative and featured numerous new design concepts, including a longer neck on the mandolin such that the bridge was placed closer to the center of the soundboard, f holes rather than an oval soundhole, two parallel tone bars on the underside of the top rather than one small crossbar, fingerboard extension elevated over the top rather than glued onto the top so as to free the entire soundboard to vibrate more freely, and carefully graduated tap-tuned tops and backs as well as a tuned air chamber.
All Style 5 Master Models featured well-figured curly maple necks, backs, and sides, spruce tops, ebony fingerboards, “The Gibson” pearl inlay peghead logo, and abalone flower pot peghead inlay (by 1924 some F-5s as well as H-5 mandolas featured fern abalone peghead inlay). The F-5, H-5, and K-5 featured hand-engraved tailpiece covers with a “The Gibson” logo and the metal hardware was silver plated with the exception of gold plating on a few 1924 models. The rich Cremona brown sunburst varnish finish is very distinctive of the Loar models and was not a catalog standard color on any other Gibsons of this time period, although it was available as a custom color option appearing on a few F-4 model mandolins. Many of the 1924 models featured the optional “Virzi tone producer” wood resonator disc mounted from the bracing on the underside of the top.
While the F-5 was without a doubt an extremely innovative instrument, it was not a great commercial success. Gibson records of the period are incomplete, but to the best ability of Gibson historians today, it’s estimated that approximately 250 Loar-signed F-5s were produced, and close to 100 Loar-signed H-5, K-5, and L-5s combined were made. By comparison, Gibson had sold vastly more F-2 and F-4 models. Although it’s sometimes stated that the F-5 probably did not sell well due to being priced higher than the F-4, in all probability, that’s not the case. In 1914, the Gibson price sheet indicates the F-4 listed at $177 (reduced after the F-5 was introduced) whereas when the F-5 was introduced in mid 1922, it was priced at $200 and was raised to $250 in 1923.
F-5 models are extremely scarce, not due to their higher original price, but due to the fact that as innovative as they were, they were introduced too late to capitalize on the mandolin orchestra boom of 1900 through 1921. Dealers who have been in business over the past 40 years may have encountered numerous Gibson mandolins made during from 1905 through 1921, but have likely seen far fewer made from 1922 onward. This is true not only of high-end models such as the F-5, but even lower-grade student A models, as well as the F-2 and F-4 models. This coincides with a drastic drop in popularity of mandolin orchestras which occurred when the Dixieland era emerged featuring brass, piano, and tenor banjo.
When the F-5 was introduced, it was the finest mandolin ever made, but it was in some ways akin to introducing the ultimate buggy whip after the automobile had been invented. Once Dixieland came in and the mandolin orchestra era ended customers simply didn’t care how good a mandolin was. There was virtually no demand. Some instruments, such as the Gibson Explorer and Flying V, were introduced ahead of their time. They were simply too radical and innovative to sell well at first, but later became highly regarded and commercially successful. Others, such as the F-5 were introduced too late to be a commercial success. Gibson mandolin sales from 1922 through 1940 were extremely slow.
It was not until Bill Monroe bought a 1923 Loar F-5 in the mid ’40s, and developed his signature sound with it that demand for F-5s picked up.
Lloyd Loar and the Gibson design team never dreamed that this instrument could be used for anything resembling bluegrass music. The F-5 was designed for classical playing, but it has gone on to achieve its greatest prominence in bluegrass, country, jazz, and other forms of modern music.
Today, Loar-signed F-5s are without doubt the most valuable mandolins ever made by any manufacturer, and are among the most valuable of all Gibson-made instruments, rivaling in price even well-figured 1959 sunburst Les Paul Standards.
Photo courtesy George Gruhn.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s April ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Many bass players love that cool, jazzy upright bass tone, but don’t want to drag around a big, bulky upright or deal with having to mic it or mess around with a pickup system.
The Rob Allen short-scale fretless Mouse bass offers solutions to all of those problems.
The Mouse is a lightweight (about 51/2 pounds) instrument that sports a two-piece, single-cut, chambered alder body with a highly figured Claro Walnut top with ivoroid binding. The bolt-on fretless 30″-scale neck is made of maple and capped with a Goncalo Alves fingerboard. The neck has 18 “ghost fret” lines, a flat lacquer finish, and a Corian nut. Builder Rob Allen uses a Martin-style truss rod housed in a square aluminum channel for more even string response and improved attack.
Hardware on the Mouse is minimal; four recessed neck bolts with bushings, and satin-finished Hipshot Ultralite tuners with a satin finish. The Ultralite tuners are a great choice for the light weight Mouse, and help the bass to be very well-balanced.
Electronics are also minimal; a Fishman Matrix natural piezo active pickup, a neatly tucked away volume control on the bridge, and a high-roll-off trim pot in the control cavity. The trim pot is adjusted from the outside of the control cavity cover with a small screwdriver. The 9-volt battery, on the other hand, is inside the cavity, meaning the screws have to be removed to change it. The combination of the walnut top and the lack of any controls gives the mouse a very clean, exotic look.
From a playability standpoint, the Mouse is easy to play and somewhat forgiving if you don’t hit the notes right on. The 30″ scale lets you to roll into notes with a slight twist or roll of the fingers. The neck has a between-C-and-U shape that feels good and is quite comfortable to play. A little more contour on the top of the body would eliminate our only nit; after putting in a few hours, the top edge of body started to tenderize our forearm. But any luthier will tell you how hard it is to bind a body contour, so this is forgiveable.
During our test, we had the opportunity to use the Mouse in a recording session at a local studio. Plugged directly into the recording console and with minimal EQ, house engineer Dave Swenson said the Mouse was “…the best-sounding fretless bass I’ve ever recorded.”
With the combination of the flatwound LaBella strings and the 30″ scale, the Mouse produced the muddy tone of an upright bass.
We also plugged the bass into a 4×10″ Genz-Benz and a JBL 15″ EON powered PA cabinet. Through the EON, we got a full, open upright tone that had just the right mix of that rubber band “boing” and finger snap. The Genz-Benz had more of a mix of a traditional fretless bass tone and an upright tone with more mids that added definition to the harmonics.
If you’re looking for upright tone in an exotic, lightweight package, this is the ticket – and for the fraction of the price of a good upright bass.
Rob Allen Mouse 30 Type of Bass Semi-hollow acoustic/electric. Features Quality construction, light weight, dead-on upright tone, exotic looks, Fishman electronics, Hipshot Ultra-lite tuners. Price $1,650 (base). Contact Rob Allen Guitars, 511 East Gutierrez St #2 Santa Barbara, CA 93103, phone (805) 965-9053, www.roballen
guitars.com.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s Sep. ’03 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
P.K. Dwyer didn’t take the normal route to the blues. It wasn’t until he was in his late 40s that his obsession started.
“I was looking for a Jimmy Reed guitar, but couldn’t find one,” he recalls. “So I started carrying around one of his CDs because I figured showing a picture would be easier than trying to describe it. I hadn’t heard Jimmy since my teens, but one day I stuck the CD in the player. It was like an instant conversion. I thought ‘Oh, I’ve been drifting too far from shore.’”
At that point, Dwyer says, he was 3/4 of the way through the recording a CD with his band. But he disbanded the group and stopped recording.
“I cut my hair off, started wearing a suit, and started writing all these blues songs,” he says.
This late “conversion” is recounted in somewhat different (and very clever) form in the title cut of Dwyer’s Blues Guy Now. The CD contains 10 cuts of blues heaven, all well-written, and with some blistering guitar and unearthly vocals. Dwyer’s previous disc, the aptly titled Up To My Balls In The Blues, was a harbinger. He sharpened the pen (and the playing) to make a modern blues masterpiece.
Dwyer’s road to the blues certainly wasn’t common for a guy in his 50s. He started playing at the age of 6, when he saw Elvis on television. His mom bought him a guitar for Christmas, taught him to sing and play, and off he went.
“I went to first grade with my guitar and performed ‘Hound Dog’,” he said.
He ended up in Seattle at the age of 15 and formed a band that played tunes by the Stones, Yardbirds, and other British bands. By about 1970, he was in Los Angeles, singing on the streets. “Just me and Wild Man Fisher!” he said. “I didn’t really think he was even a singer, but apparently Frank Zappa did!” (laughs).
He then went back to Seattle and played on street corners before forming the band Jitters in the late ’70s. The band released a CD that sounds typical for the time, and Dwyer says they were popular in the Pacific Northwest.
Then things took an odd twist. In 1980, Dwyer went to the Oregon Country Fair and got involved with what he calls the “new vaudeville movement” that was forming. He went to Europe with his girlfriend and two other couples, and they performed on the street. They won the First Annual Amsterdam Street Performers Contest in 1981 before moving to New York, where a minor folk movement was happening. Dwyer got involved and was signed to Richie Havens’ production company. But it fell apart and, “I ended up moving to L.A. But there was nothing happening, so I went back to Seattle and played in bands until the blues conversion.”
Dwyer had a trio, but it became too expensive to support the whole band.
“My wife and I decided I should just do a solo thing,” he said. “She quit her job to book and manage me, we bought a little motor home, and we and the two dogs are on the road all the time.”
They travel mostly the Pacific Northwest and the I-95 corridor to L.A.
Like many American artists who perform roots music, he also does well in Europe. “I’d like to move there someday. You can make incredible amounts of money playing music you love. Any American roots music. I’ve seen 200 people on a street corner watching a guy do a bad version of “Hotel California,” and they just love it!”
But you won’t see Dwyer doing Eagles tunes. In fact, he does mostly original blues, but with a definite twist. His “$800” is one of the best post-millennium blues tunes by anyone, with an amazing lyric that harkens back, looks forward, makes you laugh, and yet conveys a serious message.
“Humor always seems to pop up, no matter what I write,” he notes. “I’ve written all kinds of tunes – rock, country, blues. It just seems to be in the words.”
As for guitars, every one Dwyer now owns came from the pages of Vintage Guitar magazine.
“Of course, I only have four right now. I got rid of a bunch of stuff because we’re on the road so much and I don’t feel comfortable leaving stuff at home. I was carting stuff to friends’ houses.”
One of the last guitars he “got rid of” was his first favorite – a ’52 D-18 he’d had for 30 years. He has also played a lot of Teles and Strats; his main band guitar in the ’80s was a ’61 Strat. His current stage guitar is a ’98 Gibson Custom Shop J-200 with a Sunrise soundhole pickup and a Pick Up the World soundboard pickup that he runs through a Pick Up the World Power Blender.
He uses several guitars to record, including a ’33 Gibson L-OO with an EMG under-saddle pickup and a Bill Lawrence soundhole pickup. He recently bought a ’47 Martin 000-18.
“I’m trying to learn to play slide on it,” he laughs.
The cover of his Blues Guy Now has what he calls “a pretty interesting guitar ” – a ’44 Epiphone electric archtop prototype he bought from dealer/VG contributor Dave Hussong.
“My guitar book says there were only two made like it. It’s a great guitar. I used it on the album and ran it through a tweed Fender Deluxe.”
Dwyer, as you’d expect, is looking to inspiration these days from some older guys.
“I’ve been picking up lots of stuff, like the Reverend Gary Davis and Lightnin’ Hopkins. I also love Ernie Hawkins, and my wife has turned me on to a lot of old jazz, like Charlie Parker and Chet Baker. I love Gypsy music, and old hillbilly music. Usually, I listen to old. Although I do like the White Stripes. [They] give me faith that the younger generation might come up with something.”
Dwyer’s current plans call for staying on the road and doing more recording.
“The next album’s going to be pretty much acoustic. I just keep getting deeper and deeper into it.”
If his recent records are any indication, while he keeps getting deeper and deeper into it, Dwyer will remain a unique artist. Like he says, “If you’re not doing something different, why bother?”
This article originally appeared in VG‘s Sep ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
A great album by a harp virtuoso sums this one up. Mark Hummel is part of that West Coast batch of guys who just have their pulse on the jump-blues and shuffles of another era. He’s a fabulous player; check out the first cut, “Beepin’ On Me,” a showcase for his big sound and killer chops. Actually, you can pretty much say that for every cut on the record. The jazzy “Blue Jimmy” lets him show what he knows. Same with “Stockholm Train” and a hidden track at the end that lets him fly on harp. Mark’s vocals are fun, too. In some respects, he’s reminiscent of Rick Estrin of Little Charlie and the Nightcats. It’s that late-night hipster thing.
There’s some fabulous guitar playing, too. Old friends like Anson Funderburgh and Rusty Zinn get to show off a bit. Funderburgh gets to showcase his dirty sound and nasty vibrato on “Right Back Where I Started.” Zinn and Funderburgh share chores on “Please… ,” an all-star boogie with textbook solos. These two know and understand the music, and every song is better for their appearance.
And I’d be negligent not to mention the work of guitarist Charles Wheal, whose rollicking solo helps the shuffle “Don’t Know What to Do About You” stand out. Same for his work on “I Don’t Know” and “Linda Lu.” On every cut where he’s featured, Wheal proves more than capable of filling the guitar chair.
I love this album. The feel is captured perfectly.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s Feb. ’03 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The Bangles are back! After a 10-year separation, the band that rose to prominence in the 1980s with such hits as “Manic Monday” and “Walk Like an Egyptian” reunited in ’99 to record “Get the Girl” for the second Austin Powers film The Spy Who Shagged Me. A club tour followed in 2000 to test the waters – not as another “cash in on our past” act, but to give rise to a rebirth. This fresh start incorporated new material as well as radical rearrangements of their more familiar songs. The response was overwhelmingly positive, ultimately resulting in an album of new material(2003’s Doll Revolution) and the new Essential Bangles greatest hits compilation.
We recently spoke with Susanna Hoffs (rhythm guitar), asking her to reflect on the Bangle way of life as a guitar-toting musician.
Susanna Hoffs began her musical odyssey in elementary school, with a nylon-string guitar and a handful of chords taught to her by her uncle. Once she became “fluent in being able to move from one chord to another,” she learned to play more songs “in the folk tradition of friends teaching each other.”
Vintage Guitar: When did you begin to play electric? Susanna Hoffs: It wasn’t until the summer before college that I started to get into playing electric guitar. The first electric I got, through the Recycler (a weekly classified ad newspaper in L.A.), was a Gibson SG. The ad said something along the lines of it had been owned by one of the Byrds. So that kind of did it for me. But I never knew who in the Byrds (owned it).
Then I got interested in Rickenbackers because of the Beatles and the Byrds. I liked that really jangly, bright sound. It was during the years that I went to UC Berkeley I started going to guitar stores and looking at equipment – being interested in vintage stuff, because I was interested in vintage music (chuckles)! I found the ’60s Rickenbacker with the black and white checked binding I had for awhile. Pretty sure I bought it in San Francisco.
Was that guitar used for recording the first Bangles single and EP?
Yes. That was my main guitar in the early Bangles’ days. It had a very shiny, very smooth finish on the fingerboard, like glass, practically. It was really fun to play, but the action was a little bit low and buzzy. Somebody suggested I get the frets worked on, and that turned out to be a disaster, because when I got the guitar back, they had gotten rid of all that finish. It just never felt the same. I’ve never had a guitar worked on (since) without knowing beforehand exactly what was going to happen to it. It was very traumatic.
I ended up selling that guitar, but I remember wanting a Rickenbacker that felt like that one had before.
What was your first amp?
My Fender Deluxe, which I also got through the Recycler. It’s my favorite amp, and I play it to this day. So there you go (laughs)! If you get a good piece of gear, hang on to it!
How did the Ric 325 come into your possession?
Again, probably through the Recycler. I got my little John Lennon-styled Rickenbacker, and it ended up being more of a video guitar. I did use it on some of the early Bangle records. We didn’t keep using it as much because it was harder to tune and it was a true 3/4-size guitar. The neck is very small. It’s actually a little bit less comfortable to play. But that one is a really prized possession, with the original case and everything!
Didn’t you also play a Fender Telecaster?
Yeah. I never actually owned one. A guy who worked on our crew for awhile lent me one for a considerable length of time. That’s the blond guitar I played.
What was your first electric 12-string?
It’s a ’66 Guild Starfire, and it has this incredible bright-but-warm sound. The pickups are so loud – it has this warm overdrive. This guitar is so magical that I stopped taking it out on the road. Every guitar player I ever worked with actually went out and tried to find one like it.
On Doll Revolution, there are so many parts I did on that guitar. Every time you hear a bell-like 12-string, it’s that guitar. It just takes you right back to the ’60s, in a way. It’s a vintage sound, but it’s modern, too. I’d say it’s up there as one of my most treasured guitars. I don’t know what I would do without it.
Your Rickenbacker and Guild appear on All Over the Place, the Bangles’ first album with Columbia. Yet in 1984-’85 you toured with a Fender Stratocaster…
It wasn’t a long period of time that I was a “Strat girl.” I don’t think it was an old one.
During the Different Light sessions in late ’85, you acquired Ric 350s in Fireglo and Jetglo, and two 620/12s.
Definitely. I was kind of coming to the conclusion that the Rickenbacker really was my guitar. Not to say that I haven’t enjoyed the sound of other guitars, but it became the signature sound… a sound I felt at home with.
How did the Susanna Hoffs Limited Edition 350SH come about?
I think Rickenbacker knew I was playing the guitars and asked me if I wanted to do it. I said “Yeah!” It didn’t take me a long time to figure out what I wanted the guitar to look like. I wanted to go back to the look that I’d fallen in love with in the first place – black with the checked binding. The model I sort of designed and had Rickenbacker make turned out to be the perfect size and shape for me, which was the 3/4-sized body with the full-scale neck.
Why did you place HB1 pickups in all three positions on both of your 350SH models?
During that time (1988-’89) we were playing really, really big places. It was an attempt to beef up the sound a little bit. Everyone thinks of the Rickenbacker as a sort of trebly, jangly guitar – which it is. I wanted the Rickenbacker to serve all those different needs, so that was the idea.
At that time, you also played the Fritz Brothers’ Roy Buchanan Bluesmaster guitar. How did that come about?
They contacted me and said Roy wanted me to have the guitar. He made the number one model for George Harrison. Mine came with a number two on it, and my name on the little engraved tag on the back. I was really honored. I have no idea how he knew about me or anything. But apparently he requested that I have that guitar. It’s an orange one. Vicki got a blue 12-string shortly after I got mine.
During your solo years, how did you discover the Taylor K22?
I was working with a management company called Gold Mountain, who had a lot of clients who played Taylors. I get a call and they said, “Come down to the office. We have something to show you.”
I went down and there was this incredible koa acoustic guitar. I picked it up and it was like heaven, this beautiful, dark koa wood with mother-of-pearl – it was really exotic looking! And it’s small – I think it’s a concert size. I thought, “I finally have an acoustic guitar!” And I’ve been playing it for years.
I can’t say enough about Taylor guitars. You can leave them in the case for months and (when) you want to pick up and play, it’s in tune! They’re just so well-made. It’s like the Rickenbacker – there’s something about your connection to the instrument. It becomes like a friend, and you feel real comfortable with it.
What was the impetus for the Susanna Hoffs Signature Series guitar?
A friend mentioned my name to T.J. Baden (at Taylor Guitars) and said, “Did you know Susanna Hoffs plays a koa Taylor?” T.J. had been getting artists to do the signature models.
So I got a call and was asked [if I wanted] to do it? “Absolutely!” I said, “But it’s gotta be koa!” I know that because I never would have thought to buy a koa guitar before.
Why were no 12-string guitars used during any of the Bangle performances since the reunion?
I can’t afford to take that Guild out with me. It’s just too precious and too fragile. I’ve actually been on the hunt for a roadworthy 12-string. I really miss having one on the road. I’d use it on tons of stuff. It’s really the only thing I need.
For more information, visit the official website at www.thebangles.com.
Rickenbacker 350SH
Based on the company’s semi-hollow 350, the Susanna Hoffs 350SH, introduced in 1988 and limited to 250 units, had a combination of one HB1 humbucking pickup and two vintage-style “chrome bar” single-coils. It also boasted a 24-fret rosewood fingerboard which, like the body, had checkered binding. Other features included a neck made from solid maple. List price was $1,279.
Photo courtesy of Rickenbacker.
This article originally appeared in VG‘s Sep ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
