Month: August 2011

An icon of Britain’s famed “Canterbury Scene” of the late ’60s and ’70s, Steve Hillage made his mark mixing psychedelia, pop, and Hendrix-fueled guitar solos with thrilling abandon. Thirty years after his heyday, the guitarist made an appearance at this festival for his old band, Gong, and delivered a burning set. Included here are six tracks from that gig, plus three more from a ’79 show and a ’74 live version of his solo favorite, “Solar Musick Suite.”

Back to the 2006 set, you can hear Hillage in prime form on “Hello Dawn,” “The Salmon Song” (from his classic Fish Rising album), and a terrific cover of George Harrison’s “It’s All Too Much.” In addition to the upbeat interpretation of this Beatles classic, the axeman takes off into the stratosphere during the closing guitar solo, one full of blistering runs and his acclaimed gift for melody.

A good chunk of the CD is devoted to “These Uncharted Lands,” a lengthy, psychedelic head trip full of spacey improvs and groovy guitar.

Hillage may not have the cachet of other Brit axemen of the ’70s, but don’t be fooled – he was one of the best lead players of his generation and, as this record proves, remains a melodic monster today.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Oct. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Sometimes called a “modern bluesman,” James “Blood” Ulmer covers ground from Hendrix to Ornette Coleman to John Lee Hooker. His music is never dull; always a bit challenging, it’s also fun.

His new disc starts with the menacing boogie of “No Man’s Land” and its growled, anti-war lyric highlighted by frantic, stabbing leads. Things change with “A Thing For Joe,” a free-form jazz tune with punchy solos and chromatic runs. Mid-way, Ulmer breaks into a swinging flute solo!

“Eviction” is a whimsical jazz tune, tightly arranged, but with the loose feel that is his style. “Baby Talk” is a pop/funk concoction with percolating guitar and fine wah, while “Maya” is a soul tune with a lovely guitar line and an oddly sweet free-form solo out. For sheer jazz chops, check out the swinging jazz/blues of the closer, “Backbiter.”

The band follows Ulmer perfectly, wherever he goes – Mark Peterson (bass) and Aubrey Dayle (drums) keep things sounding familiar through the twists and turns.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Oct. ’08 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Dave Gleason’s third album, 2007’s Just Fall To Pieces, put the Californian country-rock scene on notice there was a strong new contender in town. Since then, his growth as singer, songwriter, and especially guitarist has been dramatic.

The easy-rolling instrumental opener “All Morning Long” sets the stage for this assured follow-up, showcasing Gleason’s hybrid picking without laying on too much flash. “If You’re Going Through Hell,” Gleason’s contribution to country’s tradition of great drinking songs, features some phase-shifted twang and Chris Lawrence’s haunting steel.

Whereas Pieces boasted such heavyweight cameos as Albert Lee, Joe Goldmark, and Jim Campilongo, Gleason supplies most of the firepower here (as on the extended “Pale Blue”) over a compact, supple rhythm section (at nearly nine minutes, it’s not likely to penetrate country radio, but you get the feeling Gleason isn’t overly concerned with that; there was too much tasty playing on the ride-out to edit it down).

Not surprisingly, his weapons of choice are mostly vintage – ’58 and ’59 Telecasters (the latter with a Parsons White StringBender), ’50s Martin D-18, and Custom Shop Silver Sparkle Tele through a couple of Vibroluxes.

Reverbed bass-string twangs punctuate the Byrds-tinged “Blue Side Of The World,” and electric 12-string (Lawrence again) chimes through “Radio 1965.” The “Buckaroo”-ish instrumental “The San Joaquin” offers an upbeat palette cleanser between the ballads “The Rails Don’t Run Here” and “Tonight” – the latter lifted by accordion and female harmonies – while Gleason performs the poignant “Wait For The Rain” solo acoustic.

Throughout, Gleasons of fers enough new wrinkles to stake his claim as more than merely another “new traditionalist.”

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Oct. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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If there had been a Top 40 of FM/underground radio in the mid/late ’60s (which, of course, would have defeated the whole purpose of FM/ underground), the Airplane would have dominated it, just as it defined the scene in and around San Francisco more than any of its contemporaries.

Marty Balin’s electrified- folkie recruits debuted in August ’65. By the end of the year, the sextet had signed a major label deal and begun work on its first album. Though Jefferson Airplane Takes Off would be overshadowed by its follow-up, Surrealistic Pillow, its version of folk-rock was more of a 50/50 blend. By the time of Pillow – and, indeed, by October ’66, when the band played the first of these live shows – folk had taken a backseat to rock.

Thankfully, someone had the foresight to record the weekend at the Fillmore when the Airplane’s original female singer, Signe Anderson, played her farewell gig and, on the next night, her replacement, Grace Slick, came onboard. Those single-CD releases are followed by two double-discs – Ignition showing how strongly Slick affected the group in a mere five weeks, 1968’s Matrix recorded at the club Balin co-owned.

The nine-minute jam that opens the Signe CD reveals Jorma Kaukonen’s status as one of the first and best psychedelic guitarists, freely mixing blues and Indian influences; meanwhile, Jack Casady steps up for an extroverted solo.

The following night may have been Slick’s debut, but Takes Off’s repertoire comprised the bulk of the two sets (combined onto a single CD). On Paul Kantner’s rocking “Let Me In” and a slowed-down version of Jim Jackson’s “Kansas City Blues” (mislabeled as Leiber & Stoller’s evergreen “Kansas City”) Kaukonen sounds like a crazed Buddy Guy (yes, the redundancy is intentional). Casady propels the former with glissandos, a la Bill Wyman on “19th Nervous Breakdown.”
By the time of the Ignition Fillmore dates in late November ’66, the group had recorded Pillow. Even folkier tunes sound harder-edged. One exception is a bit of ragtime fingerpicking courtesy of Jorma (most likely a time-filler, dubbed “My Grandfather’s Clock”) and foreshadowing Hot Tuna.

This was still Balin’s group, but a shift was already happening. By February ’68, when the Matrix date was recorded, “It’s No Secret” (one of Balin’s most majestic compositions) was accompanied by Slick’s over-the-top warbling, and Kantner was the one writing the singles – like “The Ballad Of You And Me And Pooneil,” which nearly dented the Top 40 a few months prior. And Kaukonen displayed his control of feedback, wah, and vibrato on an extended instrumental version of “Ice Cream Phoenix.”

Cudos to whoever had the foresight to record these previously unreleased shows at the time and the present-day mixers and masterers. The sound is excellent, but, more important, the performances outshine the group’s complete-set offering on the 40 Years On Woodstock box or Legacy’s Setlist sampler of live material from 1966-’73.

This article originally appeared in VG’s Feb. ’11 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Dale Watson is a country-music traditionalist, and while he mines familiar veins on Carryin’ On, he also throws in a dash of the pop/country style that dominated both charts in the late ’60s and early ’70s.

One could compare the track “Carryin’ On This Way” with Glen
Campbell songs of that era. Playing cool lead guitar, Pete Wade leans to the jazzy side while trading fours with Glenn Duncan on fiddle, and Lloyd Green ties everything together with great pedal-steel licks. In fact, if there’s a star, musically, on this record, it’s the veteran Green, who glides in and out of each song with such ease he’s often barely noticeable. Wade is also featured prominently on honky-tonk cuts like “Ain’t That Livin’,” with its melodic solo, and on the full-speedahead country stomp of “I’ll Show Ya.” Watson’s vocals are, as always, right on the money; his deep baritone resonates with the lyrics, whether in remorse for the way he’s living (as on the title
cut), the love he feels in “Flowers in Your Hair,” the melancholy of “How To Break Your Own Heart,” or the swing of “Whatever.”

Country music is an odd world these days, so it’s nice to see E1 Music
lending a platform to a genuine artist.

This article originally appeared in VG’s Feb. ’11 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Musical comedian Shel Silverstein wrote many songs; some were the melodic and lyrical equivalents of one-liners, but others were gems, as on Twistable Turnable Man.

Produced by friend and collaborator Bobby Bare, Sr., with help from his son Bobby Bare, Jr., Twistable Turnable Man features performances by John Prine, Andrew Bird, Kris Kristofferson, My Morning Jacket, Todd Snider, Lucinda Williams, Nanci Griffith, Sarah Jarosz with Black Prairie, and the Bares. The senior Bare makes an excellent producer, given his history with Silverstein.

Highlights include Black’s version of “The Cover of the Rolling Stone.” The heavy metal guitar tones raise the raucousness level. Other prime cuts include John Prine’s rendition of “This Guitar is For Sale,” made contemporary with a spartan arrangement. “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan” performed by Lucinda Williams has vocals almost as haggard as Maryanne Faithfull’s on the original.

The most daunting cover is “A Boy Named Sue.” Johnny Cash’s original is definitive, but Todd Snider’s is more than listenable – and believable. “Queen of the Silver Dollar,” performed by Sarah Jarosz with Black Prairie, brings a gothic approach that turns it from a bar-room rollick to a twilight-tinged cautionary tale. Finally, there’s Andrew Bird’s take on the title tune; his processed vocals combined with fingerpicked acoustic guitar and a synthesizer string section is weird, cute, strange, and very much something Silverstein would like if he was alive today.

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This article originally appeared in VG’s Oct. ’10 issue.  All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine.  Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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