Year: 2006

One night when Bryan Lee was opening for New Orleans legend Snooks Eaglin at the city’s Rock ‘N’Bowl, Snooks called Bryan up to jam during his set. Lee recalls, “He said, ‘All we need now, Bryan, is [blind pianist] Henry Butler, and we’d have the Three Blind Mice.’ I said, ‘No, no, no. The Three Blind Cats – cos we’re cool.’”

Hang around Bryan Lee for awhile and you almost forget that he is blind – or at least question your preconceived notions regarding his “handicap,” because he is self-sufficient at so many things. Waitresses take extra care to let him know where his coffee cup is, where his napkin is, and he’s gracious and respectful, whispering after they’ve left, “What do I do in my own house, ya know?” But, he laughs, “That’s alright. “

Hearing the 60-year-old play the blues erases any lingering stereotypes, and blurs the color line pretty well, too. Lee has been playing guitar onstage for 47 of those years, first in his home state of Wisconsin, but more notably in New Orleans, where he has been a prominent fixture since moving there in 1981. Go to one of his gigs in the French Quarter and you might see B.B. King sitting in the audience, Sting up onstage, or Cyndi Lauper singing blues incognito. Kenny Wayne Shepherd played on Lee’s two-volume Live At The Old Absinthe House Bar CDs (one Friday night, one Saturday night, 1997), along with Mahogany Rush’s Frank Marino, and Bryan returned the favor on Shepherd’s Live On from 1999.

Lee’s latest CD on Canada’s Justin Time label, 2002’s Six String Therapy, is possibly his best to date, thanks in part to the production talents of Duke Robillard (VG, July ’03) and the backing chops of Duke’s band. “It was like a dream come true,” according to Bryan. “We clicked. We all went to the same church.”

Although some reviews rave about Lee’s “greasy New Orleans blues… conjuring the sound of the swamp” (allmusic.com), his style owes more to Chicago and Texas greats, such as Freddie King, Matt Murphy, and Albert Collins, with tasteful dashes of B.B. and Albert King. And his singing is natural and authoritative, filled with power and feeling, never sounding affected.

Now, Bryan is anxious to venture outside the comfort of his adopted home, and bring the blues to “your town.” As he says without hesitation, “My bags are packed. “

Vintage Guitar: Before you started playing blues, were you into rock and roll?
Bryan Lee: Oh yeah. I started listening in the early ’50s, pre-Elvis, to the pop music of the day. The stuff I grew up on with my folks was, like, Perry Como. When I was 10 or 11, I got a radio that could pick up stuff late at night. I got into country music big time – Hank Williams, Hank Snow, Ray Price, Chet Atkins, Les Paul, and Mary Ford. Then I started tuning in the other side of the dial, and I found a station from Nashville, WLAC, and they were playing all black music – blues, rhythm and blues, soul, gospel – and all their sponsors were record stores with mail-order. It was like discovering the Holy Grail.

Elvis and Gene Vincent were cool, and I loved Carl Perkins and Johnny Cash, but then I heard Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley. The first Chuck Berry record I heard was “Maybellene,” and then “Thirty Days,” but the one that really knocked my socks off was “School Day.” And the flipside was “Deep Feeling,” which he did with the lap steel. Holy mackerel! And the first version of “Tutti Fruiti” I heard was Pat Boone – as well as the first version of “Ain’t That A Shame.” So I didn’t know about Little Richard and Fats Domino. When I heard their versions – and Joe Turner’s version of “Shake, Rattle and Roll,” even though I loved Bill Haley & The Comets – there was no turning back for me. It didn’t have anything to do with color; the music was just so much better. It was the feeling, the soul, that hit me. Then I tried to sing like Fats Domino, play guitar like Chuck Berry, scream like Little Richard.

At what age did you take up guitar?
Well, I started fooling around with the guitar around the same time – when I was about 11. At 13 is when I hit the stage, in northeastern Wisconsin, in Two Rivers. I met a guy at the blind school who was a really good guitar player, and I learned a lot from him and was kind of his shadow. We put together our first band. He sang the crooner-type stuff, and tried to get Elvis’ moves down. But he took all the solos and made me play rhythm, so I didn’t play any kind of solo guitar until I was about 17.

That’s actually good training, though.
It was, because it taught me a foundation of chord structure. I remember we opened for Bill Haley & The Comets when I was 15 years old in Green Bay, at a place called the Riverside Ballroom. And Bill Haley told our manager, “This kid Bryan, the blind kid, he’s going to be good. He’s got talent.”

Were there gigs in that part of the country?
My whole thing was, like, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa – that was my turf. But when you’re a draw in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, the rest of the world doesn’t really care. See, people know me from Bourbon Street, but I’ve been in this business a long time. I turned 60 in March.

When I got to be 18, I was basically a road warrior. I had 20 years on the road before I even moved to New Orleans. One of the reasons I moved here was I was sick and tired of driving in snow and cold weather. There was a pretty good blues circuit in the Midwest, especially in the late ’60s and through the ’70s. With the Vietnam war and all the college campuses against the war, blues kind of went along with the rejection of the war, and there were a lot of pretty decent blues clubs in college towns – still are.

I got into a lot of trouble, being in northeastern Wisconsin, because some of the clubs liked the fact that I was singing that stuff, but they didn’t really want any black people coming around. I was doing the Holiday Inn circuit where they want to know how many tunes you’re doing off that week’s Top 40. Eventually, as I grew and decided what I wanted to do, I… how shall we say, “tanned” myself out of a job. Then I gravitated to Milwaukee, and they wanted what I played. But if I was going to stay in the Midwest, I was going to have to set up base in Chicago. I used to gig in Chicago, and got to know Muddy and my heroes, like Albert King, Freddie King. But in Chicago, it was hard because it was very racial. Not the players; it was the promoters. Bruce Iglauer started Alligator Records in ’71 and told me right out, “I’m not interested in you because you’re white.”

I’d come down to New Orleans the first time in ’79, and I noticed that people on Bourbon Street were looking for blues, but there wasn’t any real blues. I’d sit in with some band, and people would go nuts over blues guitar. But there weren’t many guitar players; there were more horn players. And I loved the blues out of New Orleans, like the ’50s. Smiley Lewis is one of my favorites – Bobby Charles, Sugar Boy Crawford. You heard Fats Domino first, but then you found the guys with the grease. I mean, Fats had grease on some of those old records, but they commercialized it, because it worked.

How has the scene changed since you started playing on Bourbon Street?
When I started working on Bourbon Street in 1982, there was a lot of good music on the street – a big variety of music. We even had some great country-rock bands. Up until probably ’93, you were playing original material; people came here looking for something different than they were hearing in other towns. But at some point it was like somebody made a list of songs and said, “These are the songs you have to play. ” So it was, like, “Brown-Eyed Girl,” “Mustang Sally,” “Brick House” and a few others. It’s a shame. The local club scene isn’t like it used to be. It’ll be there at Mardi Gras; it’ll be there Sugar Bowl week and during Jazz Fest. But there isn’t that consistency. You can look at Bourbon Street two ways: It’s steady work, and people come from all over the world, so it’s good exposure. But the other side of the coin is, people think, “Is that all the guy does? Can he tour?” But when we’ve done shows opening for national acts, like with Bo Diddley at the House Of Blues, we rocked the place. The bottom line is, in a situation like that, you have got to kick ass, take no prisoners.

The first gig I played in New Orleans was Tipitina’s, and we didn’t draw flies. No one had heard of us. So we went to some after hours clubs in the French Quarter, and they had these big horn bands, and they let me sit in. A little voice inside of me said, “You’ve come home. ” So in November ’81 I moved down here, and I’ve been here ever since. A lot of that time I’ve been on Bourbon Street, and that’s what most people perceive of me, but I’ve put out nine CDs, even though my record company is in Montreal. If not for Bourbon Street a lot of the other stuff wouldn’t have happened, but on the other side of the coin, because I’ve been on Bourbon Street or in the Quarter for 20 years, people think, “He don’t want to go anywhere.” That’s not true.

Would you like to tour more?
I love to travel; I want to go. But I want an agency. I’ve been to Brazil seven or eight times. Played the Montreal Jazz Festival four or five times. I went to France for 16 weeks in ’97 – in one stretch.

But over there did you find that people expected you to play “Stormy Monday” and “Sweet Home Chicago” and the standard repertoire?
Sometimes, but they just like blues. It’s funny – they don’t speak English, but they can sing all the songs. I got hooked up with a really good French band called Shake On Shake, and I’d just fly over by myself.

Playing a club on Bourbon Street, people might pop their head in the door for 30 seconds and then keep walking down to the next bar. So you’ve got to have an element of showmanship. Is that something you had to work on?
I learned that stuff from going out and hearing Luther Allison and Freddie King – listening to how they’d talk to the audience, how they’d work the audience. Freddie would bring the band way down and walk out to the edge of the stage, singing to the women. I’d never go to shows by myself; I always had “eyes” with me to tell me what was going on. How did they dress? How did they look? Have they got drinks onstage? Are they smoking? What kind of amp is he playing through? I needed to know that stuff. The way Freddie King could hold a note forever – I finally found out how to do that. And it’s amazing: You sit there holding a damn high E for five choruses, and the place is on the floor. I’m just sitting up there thinking, well, I’ve got my pickup in line with the speakers, and I’ve got my feedback note, and it’ll hold as long as the amp can feel it.

You’ve got to put on a show. The thing with blues is, with guys like Freddie King or even Stevie Ray Vaughan, you want to sell this music not just to blues people, but you want to take it further and get more fans. Freddie King could sell it to rockers because of his show and his energy. If three people are in the house, I’m still going to play hard, because, for starters, one of those people might be important. There’s no bad gig. That’s what’s so hard to preach to guys. Every night is dress rehearsal for the big one. Don’t ever take a crowd for granted – because there might be somebody in that crowd who’s important.

Who are some of your other favorite blues players?
A guy who taught me a lot was Luther Allison. He and Albert Collins; the neat thing about those guys is they never sold out. And Matt Murphy is probably my all-time favorite guitar player, because he can play anything. These men were such individuals. You can’t replace a Freddie King, an Albert Collins, a John Lee Hooker, an Albert King. All of this “it has to be by the book” thing; it’s ridiculous. Ignorant compared to what? I mean, I can listen to Elmore James play the same solo over and over and never get sick of him. It’s from the soul.

How did Duke Robillard come to produce Six String Therapy?
That’s one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. I’ve idolized Duke since the beginning of Roomful Of Blues. All the records he’s produced, I think, are excellent. I never met him. He was playing at the House Of Blues, and I took along a couple of my albums. I said, “I know you don’t know me; I totally understand. But I want you to produce my next record. I’ve done as much as I can on my own; I need somebody that I respect and who puts out good records. ” He said, “Well, let me listen to your stuff, and when I get home I’ll call you.” Once Duke was onboard, he wanted to do it at his studio, because it was just easier. Then he asked, “How would you feel about using my band?” I said, “That’s the guys I love. I want to work with professionals.” Then I had to ask myself if I was good enough to work with these people. I’ll be honest, the night before we went into the studio I was scared. After about 15 minutes of conversation, I realized that in spirit I knew these guys. Because they all listened to the same guys I listened to; we all came up the same way. Some of the tunes we did live in one take, because the feeling was there.

Do you have a main guitar?
Well, in ’93 I had an accident and fell down the stairs in my apartment. I couldn’t play my black ES-355 anymore, because it was too heavy. So I started playing Fenders, and really fell in love with Telecasters especially. For years, that’s all I played. But last night I played a 335, and I held up.

What amps do you use?
Some clubs, it’s hard because there’s no acoustics, and you’ve got to play soft. I’ll use a Fender Deluxe on, like, 4, with a compressor and some overdrive. I can get the Deluxe tone and even out the peaks and valleys, and with the overdrive I can get some warmth and sustain. My favorite amp, though, is my Quad Reverb. When I first heard Albert [Collins] play one, I said, “There’s the amp!”

That’s basically a doubled-up Twin, right?
Yeah. Twin chasis with four 12s. But at festivals, you crank that wide open and you don’t have to worry about nothin’. Albert even played that amp in small clubs, and it was loud, but it was so good.

What continues to inspire you?
If it’s in your soul… I mean, look at B.B. He’s 78, and he’s cut back his touring to 300 dates a year or whatever! I make people happy. Nobody said this was going to be easy. And every time I wanted to quit, something happened to make me keep playing. I believe that the good Lord picked you to do this. Same with the music. This music chose me. It captivated me. It wasn’t the black-white situation or me, a white guy, trying to be black because I think black is cool. I’m probably one of the best ambassadors of racial harmony out here, because I do a black art form that I just adore. It’s sanctified; it’s divine music. I’m white, but so what? I’m blind. All I see is people’s souls.

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.

Don’t let John5’s stage persona fool you. Underneath that peroxide-white hair, sinister colored contact lenses and high-priest-of-evil wardrobe breathes one impressive and versatile guitarist. True, the Michigan-born guitarist (real name John Lowery) is most well-known for his 5-plus years as guitarist for the notorious Marilyn Manson, during which time he adopted the requisite shock-metal ghoul costume.

But take a deeper look into his background, and you discover he not only played with Rob Halford and David Lee Roth, he has toured with K.D. Lang (very surprising). Which seems to imply there’s more than stage spectacle going on. Indeed, consider the praise recently heaped on him from both Steve Vai and Les Paul. (After jamming with John5 at his one of his weekly New York dates, Paul was impressed enough to invite the guitarist to perform at a Christmas show.) Then there’s the John5 Telecaster signature model from Fender, and they don’t just hand those things out like new AOL discs.

John5’s six-string skill mix finally gets its public due with his new solo instrumental CD, Vertigo (Shrapnel). Loaded with the blistering metallic riffery and frenetic soloing you’d expect from Marilyn Manson’s former guitarist, the CD is also a showcase for John’s “country-metal” stylings. Atomic chicken pickin’ and pedal steel-like train drones on arrangements of “Sugar Foot Rag,” “Sweet Georgia Brown” and others will make you swear he’s got a cowboy hat in his closet.

We recently spoke with John5 about his new solo career.

Vintage Guitar: What spurred you to record a solo album? And why an instrumental guitar album? They’ve never burned up the charts.
John5: When I was on the road last year with Manson on our world tour, I had three family members die. And it hit me like a truck, literally freaked me out for days. In the midst of it all, I decided I wanted to do something for myself, and I decided to do a solo record. I wanted to accomplish something under my name, “while I’m still on the planet” kinda thing. And not just a “solo” record, an instrumental record. Because most people didn’t know I could play anything other than (Manson’s) “Beautiful People.”

I thought it’d be good to release this record now because some people know my name, so it’d have a chance to actually get out there and be heard. And then hopefully the reaction is, “Oh my god, I had no idea he could play that way…” type of thing.

People are definitely going to be surprised when they hear the country-styled tracks on Vertigo.
When you hear “Needles, CA.,” the first track, you’re like, “Okay, this makes sense, it hard-rocking, it’s mean, it’s aggressive.” Then when you hear “Sugar Foot Rag,” you’re like, “Hmmm.” And “Sugar Foot Rag” and the other country arrangements are what everyone seems to gravitate to. Because everyone’s heard hard rock instrumental songs from hard rock players like me, but when you put in a real country song – well, maybe more exactly, songs with real country riffs, not rock licks countrified, that throws you for a loop.

What’s the scoop as far as recording, players, etc.?
When I got off tour this past January, I started writing and recording with Kevin Savigar, who’s played a long time with Rod Stewart. We recorded the record in 21/2 months. It was amazingly smooth and fast. Billy Sherwood, who has played with Yes, produced some of the country tracks and played bass.

How did you decide on the album’s direction? Did you have any kind of a road map?
I didn’t want the songs too long and I didn’t want all rock songs, because I didn’t want the listener to get bored. On instrumental records, you usually get one thing, that’s it, there you go. So I started thinking, “How can I keep people from getting bored? Make all the songs uptempo, not make them too long, don’t repeat licks, and – especially – change up the style of music.”

And that’s exactly what I did. All the guitar parts were pretty much doubled, which was really tough, too, like Randy Rhoads used to do. That’s what I did to make it sound thick.

What’s your playing background? When did you develop an interest in country music?
I was six years old and watching “Hee Haw” with my father. I saw a young kid come on and he played his banjo like I had never seen. I mean, when you’re young, you’re impressed when you see a kid stand on his hands or something. But this kid played banjo, [it] was just amazing. I was like, “That’s what I want to do!” So I started playing guitar, and I was learning some country stuff. But then I discovered Jimi Hendrix and Kiss and Van Halen, and I was going “Alright!‘ I’m gonna play Van Halen I, dressed up like Ace Frehley, and I’m gonna put an Afro on to look like Jimi Hendrix.” I wanted to be those three guys so bad (laughs). And I was pretty much that character for 15 years. Then years later, in the mid ’90s, I went on tour with k.d. lang, and I played with Larry Campbell, an amazing musician who plays pedal steel, mandolin, fiddle, everything basically, and he practiced like I practiced, literally hours and hours every day, and it really inspired me.

So for a while all I did was study, study, study bluegrass, Western swing, and old country. I hardly slept because I really want to be able to play like that. I wanted it to be real. But I never really played it for anybody.

No one?
Well, a few. I’ve got another cool story related to that. Manson was playing Ozzfest, and I kinda tested myself. I decided to play some country riffs backstage. Korn was back there, and Tom Morello (Rage Against the Machine), and all these bands. I played some hard rock stuff, and people were like, “Oh, cool,” whatever. And then I started playing the country riffs, and all those guys went nuts. And I was like, “You know what? We’ve got something here.” And playing that country stuff is really re-learning the guitar for rock players. It’s different scales, most of it’s in majors, and the riffs are different. It’s been a real challenge, and I’ve totally loved it.

What was your first guitar?
My first guitar was a Stratocaster, which I got because I loved Jimi Hendrix, I loved his whole vibe. My mom got me a ’77 Stratocaster, cream, like Hendrix’s, but with a black pickguard. It was kind of an odd-looking Strat. That’s what I really learned on. And now the funny thing is, I’m not really a Strat man, because once I started seeing pictures of Keith Richards with his Telecaster, I immediately wanted one of those. I got my first Tele when I was 14 or 15, and I just loved everything about the instrument. It was like “This is my instrument.” It really started my love for the Telecaster. And now I have about 30 of them.

This is a perfect point to talk about your guitar collection.
Let’s see, I have a beautiful blond ’66 Esquire with a rosewood fingerboard. I have a ’61 gold sparkle Esquire, which is really nice and really rare. I have a ’68 blond with a white pickguard and maple cap. A ’69 Thinline, a beautiful, beautiful ’71 Telecaster, it just looks like it just came out of the store. I have a beautiful ’72 Telecaster Deluxe, a beautiful ’73 Fender Custom with the humbucker, and a ’78 Antigua. My dream is to get a Telecaster from each year. SG-wise, I have a ’61 and ’62, the ’61 is the Les Paul Junior. I have about eight or nine Les Pauls. I have close to 80 guitars now.

Fill us in on the John5 signature Fender Telecaster.
It’s black with a rosewood fingerboard, and the headstock is different, it’s the first time they’ve changed the Telecaster headstock in 50 years. It’s really cool; chrome pickguard and hardware. [One Custom Shop version] has a Seymour Duncan Hot Rail bridge pickup and the headstock is carved out so you can do the behind-the-nut bends. It has a Bigsby, and white binding. The other models have a Fender Enforcer Humbucker bridge pickup, no Bigsby, and a pickup toggle switch.

The headstock looks like a mean mofo. But you can play country music with it, or you can go onstage with Manson.

How did the deal with Fender come about?
I was endorsing Ibanez for a while, and playing in all those hard rock bands – and you don’t really play Telecasters with Halford or David Lee Roth or Manson. I was at a NAMM show, and Ibanez didn’t have my picture up with all their other endorsers. I thought, “Hmmm, that’s weird.” Then I walked by the Fender booth and they had this huge picture of me playing a Telecaster, one of the couple times I played one with Halford, actually up on the wall! So we started talking and they knew my playing style was broader than the Manson stuff, and they said they wanted to give me my own signature line. I was like, absolutely. I was pretty much signing contracts with Fender a week later.

What was the design process like? How involved were you?
I had a big part in it, which was so cool. I worked with Mike Eldred, Richard McDonald, Red Dave, and Chris Fleming. I hung out a lot with them, we’d go to lunch and have fun and talk about the guitar, what we wanted from it, how we wanted it to look, etc. And it came out just exactly how we all thought it would. Those guys have been making guitars forever, and they all had great ideas. It came about so perfectly. It’s a well-built, beautiful guitar. You know, playing live with Manson, it’s brutal out there. Sometimes you have people throwing syringes at you and all kinds of crap, and you gotta watch out. (Laughs) I’ve been hit with everything, and that guitar’s been a good shield. The ol’ Tele has saved my life a few times.

Talk about jamming with Les Paul. That had to be a thrill.
Last summer, I was in New York and saw Les Paul. He invited me onstage and we jammed; I did my crazy rock stuff, then some country stuff. I was so nervous, it was just him with a stand-up bass and a piano player; you wouldn’t have been able to hide behind the drums or anything, you know? But I put out this country stuff and he seemed to be truly into it. He invited me to play at his Christmas show, and I was so blown away. That experience was the one single thing that ultimately inspired me to get this record finished and out.

Now I wanna try and make one each year for as long as I can, as long as people will allow me to make them. And each is going to be crazier then the other. I’m already three songs into the new one.

What’s the story on the split with Manson? Did you have a big blowup?
(laughs) At the end of the last tour, I decided I really wanted to do this solo thing and that I had to devote all my time to it. The split with Manson was totally amicable. It wasn’t one of those big breakups. We’re friends. I wish there was some good dirt, but there’s not (laughs)!

What are your plans for the next year?
I’m focusing on my stuff at the moment. But let’s face it, putting out instrumental rock records, I’m not going to be living the high life. So I also have a rock radio-ish band called Loser, with good songs, a great singer, and strong players, that’s kinda going to pay the bills. That’s the plan. But I swear, as long as I can make these instrumental records, I will. And I might be a little spoiled, but I really get the best of both worlds.

Are you going to do any solo live dates?
I want to try and do dates with certain acts, I’d love to open some shows for someone like Steve Vai or Black Label Society. I want to get on a good bill rather than doing a small solo club tour. And that might take until the second record or so, but I really want to get out there and make as big a spectacle of it as I can (laughs). Maybe I’ll have, like, six guitar players onstage at the same time, something weird. Maybe have the drummer look like a robot. You know, good clean fun.

Don’t you do session work in Los Angeles? You stay pretty busy from what I can tell.
Yeah, I do a lot of session work. And I write with a lot of artists, as well. I’m a staff writer at Chrysalis. But that’s why I’m doing Loser, because I thought, “I’m writing for so many other artists, why not write for myself and make it the best I can.”

But wouldn’t it be funny if everything failed on all levels, and I’m broke and in the gutter (laughs)! But I’m doing everything I want to do this year, so I’m really happy.

The John5 Telecaster
Fender’s John5 Telecaster is available in three versions, including two from the Fender Custom Shop.

The standard model is equipped with a Fender Enforcer humbucking pickup in the bridge position.

The Custom Shop J5 HB model boasts a double-bound ash body with a shaved maple neck with rosewood fingerboard. It’s equipped with an Enforcer humbucking bridge pickup, hard-tail bridge, and two-volume wiring with a three-way toggle switch.

The Custom Shop J5 Bigsby features a Seymour Duncan Hot Rails humbucking bridge pickup and a Bigsby-licensed vibrato tailpiece.

All three guitars employ a Custom Shop
Twisted Tele neck pickup, a three-way pickup selector switch, chrome hardware, and a radical new headstock finished in black with an over/under modified Tele XII shape, a bound top, chromed brass pickguard,chrome switch tip, and dot fretboard markers.

Specifications
Body Ash
Neck Maple ’60s C-shape
Machine heads Fender/Schaller Deluxe staggered cast/sealed machines
Fingerboard Rosewood, 12″ radius
Bridge American Tele six-saddle humbucker bridge with chromed brass saddles or Bigsby vibrato tailpiece.
Pickup Switching Three-position toggle.
Pickguard 1-ply chrome
Scale Length 25.5″ (648 mm)
Width at Nut 1.6875″ (43 mm)

Photo by Rick Gould

This article originally appeared in VG‘s Dec. ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.