Year: 2014

Gregg Wright is a force to be reckoned with. He took the top spot in the Southern California Blues Society’s annual Battle of the Blues Bands, and will move on to represent Southern California at the International Blues Challenge, in Memphis. He has opened for Albert and Freddy King, but is probably best remembered as the guitarist on The Jackson’s 1984 Victory album and tour. His live shows burn and his records inspire.

You started off playing blues, went on a detour, then returned to the blues. What happened?
Blues was the music of my parents and grandparents. I didn’t want to know nothin’ about that. I was running away from that. Initially, I liked to play loud blues-rock – Hendrix, Beck, Cream, which really was a hyperamplified form of blues. I started with that, but it was easy for me to transition into classic blues because I heard my parents play that. It was a self-acceptance thing. I had to acknowledge that the blues was in me, regardless. I had to make peace with that.

How do you manage your artistic integrity on the traditional blues circuit?
By playing what I want to play, playing what I really feel inside, and not being afraid to express that. Ultimately, you have to tell your own story. You can’t tell Muddy’s story. You can’t tell B.B’s story. You can only tell your own. My feeling is that if you are true to yourself, it tends to make things move. Don’t worry about what the market is dictating or who says what you have to do.

You’ve managed to please traditional blues fans while playing with a harder edge.
Yeah, but I’m getting ready to upset all them motherf***ers (laughs)! I’m going to make them mad. The record I’m working on right now is just insane. I’m just letting it all hang out. We’re playing real rough with this one. King Of The Rockin’ Blues was just cruise control.

Are you liberated now that you’re accepted within the blues community? Winning the Battle of the Blues Bands gives you cred.
I do what my heart tells me to do. On the new record, some of it is real rock. Some of it is real rough, but leans toward blues forms. I had time to think about things and figure out exactly what it is I wanted to do. No matter what I do, if it’s rock or even if it’s something classical, at the core of it is going to be blues. That’s where I’m from.

Who were you listening to, coming up?
Hendrix and Santana. They were rockers, but they were rockers with the soul of a jazz band. They had a jazz sensibility as far as creativity and form. Post-Abraxas Santana was deep, heavy vibe s**t with the improvisation, especially Caravanserai. That s**t is just f***ing ridiculous!

You opened for Albert and Freddy King. Did any of that rub off?
Freddy King did because he had a rock edge to him. He had a big, fat, howling tone and some funky grooves behind his s**t. He was really one of the first blues-rockers.

What kind of gear are you using?
I’ve been using a 100-watt 1×12 Marshall Valvestate combo for 15 years. I’m also using my Fret-King GWR guitar. I’m playing that exclusively. When I play the Fret-King, it’s like heaven opened up. I suddenly heard my own voice for the first time. The tone of it, the feel – you can beat the hell out of the whammy bar and that Trev Wilkinson construction stays in tune no matter what. The pickups do everything that I want. On the floor, I use an old Fulltone OCD and a Boss DD-7 Delay. It sounds really good.

When you hear stuff that comes out that sounds like nobody but you, it’s a mind blower.

What’s next for you?
I want to get the new record and the International Blues Challenge out of the way. For today’s musician, there’s never been a better time. A guy can write his own ticket if he’s clever and has enough drive. I use everything available to me – iTunes, CD Baby, selling CDs at shows, and consignments at independent record shops.

An independent musician can be like the Viet Cong; you’re a little guy coming through tunnels and messing with the greatest army in the world (laughs) – quick, streamlined, and dangerous. That’s how you have to think. Music-industry people don’t have your best interests at heart. They don’t give a s**t about music. You’re just a commodity. You could be a Kleenex for all they care.

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This article originally appeared in VG April 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Detroit native Pete Anderson made a name for himself in the ’80s, playing a ton of twang while Dwight Yoakam sang. In the last 20 years, though, he has become known as an player who can adroitly back virtually any act, a first-rate music producer, and a record-label head.

A disciple of ’50s rock-and-roll and the blues, his guitar style was partly affected by the country music played on the family turntable by his Southern-born father. Just 16 when he first heard Muddy Waters on the radio, he later attended the initial Ann Arbor Blues Festival, where he absorbed heavy doses of B.B King, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, T-Bone Walker, and Lightnin’ Hopkins. The event turned him into a blues devotee, and his new album, Birds Above Guitarland, reflects that background. More important, though, he says, “The record is an extension of the previous one, Even Things Up, which showed me turning a page; I didn’t want to be a side man anymore, and I wanted to simplify my life. I was asking myself, ’What do I want to do?’”

That query first struck him in the mid ’90s. Whenever Yoakam’s schedule included time away from music, Anderson would assemble a band to record and do short tours. But, “That solo work ended up being something I didn’t want to simply dust off every six months. I wanted to focus on it, because it was really my future.”

Another big part of that future involved his then-new label, Little Dog Records, and a new recording studio Anderson built with his wife, who is a recording engineer.

Those who have followed his career know Anderson’s solo work has always fallen on the bluesy side.

“I played a lot of blues as a kid – I was a ’roots’ player who had quite a career playing country. I constantly studied music, even while I was playing whatever was appropriate for Dwight’s records.”

Birds Above Guitarland he adds, is the type of music that comes most naturally to him. “It’s the majority of my influences. And now more than ever, I’m trying to be cognizant of playing like me; guitar players are often infatuated with other peoples’ playing styles – it’s intoxicating to hear different stages of B.B. King, Albert King, Freddie King, and Robben Ford, and go, ’Man! What’s he doing?’ or ’What’s his technique?’”

Well before this newfound musical focus, Anderson had re-trained his professional efforts with Little Dog and began to groom the careers of unknown artists, serving as producer, co-songwriter, guitarist/musician, engineer, etc. – whatever needed to be done. The move helped him steer clear of being pigeonholed as a country picker.

We started our discussion with a brief look back.

What year did you start with Dwight?
We started working clubs together in ’82 or ’83 and tried to make Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., for two years, borrowing studio time and all that, and finally got it done as an independent EP in early ’85. It’s funny, the band that recorded that album – Jeff Donovan, Brantley Kearns, myself, Dwight, and J.D. Foster – had been fired from every gig it had in Los Angeles (laughs)! Every club gig! And, pretty much every label had turned down the record.

Given your musical background and Dwight’s style, did it help at all that you were right there as the “cowpunk” surge began on the West Coast?
Yeah, we lied (laughs)! We’d tell the club, “Yeah, we’re cowpunk! We can do that.” But you have to understand, we were guys who made music for a living. We went into honky tonks and played four hours a night for 40 or 50 bucks. But it seemed if we lined up a four-night gig, we’d play two nights then get fired. If it was two nights, we did one. Playing “I Sang Dixie” got us fired!

Did audiences just not react to what you were doing?
Well, when you walk into a bar and there’s a Pac-Man machine and a pool table and a TV, you’re the distraction. The club is just covering its bets and bar owners didn’t know what they had. I’m not casting aspersions – they’re not talent scouts – but in every “country” bar, we got fired because, “You don’t play enough Alabama.” We were playing Bill Monroe and Hank, Sr. – country music. But yeah, we got fired from every club – every one.

What turned it around?
Going to play for nothin’ – clubs in the Valley didn’t pay – and we created a product. We called ourselves cowpunk – which, as far we could tell was all these young bands that had become bored with playing punk and said, “We’re gonna do country music, but like punk, ’cuz we’re revved up like hot rods.” Okay, well… rock and roll started with guys playing really loud in the garage while their parents were in the living room listening to Hank, Sr., hollering, “Turn that s**t down!” So, we went to Hollywood, told everybody we were cowpunk, got onstage and played what we play – loudly – and the press started writing about us.

Given your background and attitude toward playing guitar, were you going for anything specific stylistically, as a player back then?
When we made Dwight’s first record (the 1986 smash Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc.), I’d play Albert-Lee-styled stuff. But after that album, I thought, ’I’m not gonna do that anymore, because I’ll only be second-best. I’m gonna go down my own path and figure out how I want to play.’

As you started to put together the songs for Birds Above Guitarland, were there any significant changes in your approach as a producer?
Well, the biggest plus for me is it’s the first time I said, “Hey, are the vocals loud enough?” (laughs)! I’m really happy with all of it, but very proud of the vocals.

I approach making a record as “songs come first,” then try to be creative with the guitar. I never play to impress as a guitarist; I’d much rather create a likeable song and play something within it. And that’s a slightly greater challenge. I think the ultimate example is “Midnight At the Oasis,” by Maria Muldauer. It’s a cool song and Amos Garrett played a great solo that fits but is also completely jaw-dropping. I follow players who play within songs – Steve Cropper, Cornell Dupree, Amos Garrett. James Burton always gave you a hook or something cool.

Did you also have to give some thought to your technique?
Yes. I realized that most blues guys played with their fingers, except for B.B. King and maybe Muddy Waters. Freddie King used to thumbpick. When I worked with Dwight, I started palming the pick, and eventually started playing completely with my fingers. That was a big step. Then I started to focus my left-hand technique on the blues side of the page, which is kind of deliberate and slow. So, I’ve been conscious of taking what attracts me or fits comfortably, while still being conscious of what people like, what I have that’s a little different, or what might make somebody say, “I want to hear Pete play!” That’s the goal, instead of being the second-best B.B., Albert, Freddie, Robben, Derek, or whoever.

When I’m working on melodies and harmonies, I try to create a certain intensity and fidelity. The biggest example of that would be Elmore James. I can pick up a guitar, tune it to open E or open D, grab a bottleneck slide and play (hums a melody). But I can never, ever, ever play like Elmore James (laughs)! Take that intensity and add the stylistic complexity of, say, Wes Montgomery, who played the most beautiful stuff you’ve ever heard in a fashion you never heard before. That’s what I’m thinking.

What are some personal highlights on the album?
There are a lot, like the solo on “Red Sunset Blues.” I played the melody with a baritone with tremolo, kind of spaghetti-western, then used my Reverend Eastsider for the solo, and played stuff I had never played before – complex, exotic playing that was completely different. I also love the solo on “Out of the Fire” which is sort of an updated honky-tonk/Bill Doggett/multi-interval thing.

Which amps do we hear on the album?
Well, for the most part, I play through a very old Line 6 Pod – first-generation. In the early days of that company, Tim Godwin was their artist rep, and he got me involved. We modeled two of my amps – a blackface Fender Deluxe I had used in the Dwight era and I beefed up with a Twin transformer, and my Silvertone 1489. And they did a great job on both. If you put them side-by-side through a cab with the same speaker, some air around them, and a bit of noise, like beer bottles clinking – you won’t be able to tell the difference. So that’s what I use for the most part, direct. My engineer, Tony Rambo, lives to re-amp guitar parts, so we did some of that through the Silvertone on the bluesier, Chicago-style stuff. We fired up my old blackface Deluxe and mixed and matched cabinets.

What’s the story behind the blackface Fender Twin you bought from Jody Maphis – the son of Joe and Rose Lee Maphis, who is now a guitar player and a drummer in Nashville.
I don’t remember how we started talking about it, but he goes, “I’ve got an old Twin.” I said, “Really? I’m looking for one.” And he said, “Yeah, it’s a blackface something. So, he brought it out and it was all beat up! I asked, “What do you want for it?” He said, “200 bucks. Everything works.” I was on the road at the time, so I had him drop if off with my road manager, and as I was getting on the bus, he was laughing, “Hey that piece of junk Jody Maphis brought over is [in the luggage hold].” He thought Jody had pulled a quick one. But I cleaned it up, gave it the once-over, replaced tubes and stuff, then put it in a new cabinet. I also did a mod created by Jim Williams (a renowned amp tech in the L.A. area) where you change the value of the Bright switch.

What was the motivation for modding it?
When I was touring early on, I’d use two Deluxes, but they just weren’t loud enough. So I figured I’d get a Twin. Thing is, a Twin doesn’t sound much like a Deluxe, so I asked Jim, who is a brilliant designer-type and a Deluxe freak, and he said, “The Bright switch is wrong – it’s not the value of a Deluxe.” I said, “There is no Bright switch on a Deluxe…” And he goes, “Yes, there is. It’s just that Leo saved the money and didn’t put the actual switch on it, but instead he gave it a value and shorted it (across the Volume potentiometer).

I run it with the Middle on 10, Bass on 4, Treble on 5, put the Volume on 2 or, 3 – which is really loud for a Twin. I put two EVs in it, hit the Bright switch, and it’s like a giant Deluxe. Every steel player that comes in my studio wants that amp.

Do you ever run a boutique amp?
I have a Zinky Tonemaster, and it is one of the greatest amps of all time. It adds real punch, sort of like an old-school blond Bandmaster – killer, beautiful power, just a muscular amp. We use it whenever we want something a little more husky.

Which guitars did you use on the disc? You now have two signature models from Reverend…
Yes, I’m so happy with the Reverends that I used them on the whole record, except for the Tom Anderson baritone on “Red Sunset.” But all the soloing and other parts were my Eastsider, which has a korina body, two pickups, a multi-radius fingerboard with 6105 frets, an Earvana compensated nut, and locking tuners. I also used my PA-1, which is the first one we did together. It’s a hollowbody with a Bigsby, and on my personal one I installed a set of Seymour Duncan vintage-style humbuckers on a P-90 chassis, so they fit in the guitar comfortably.

On “Empty Everything,” I might have also used the Epiphone Joe Pass I completely tortured and that served as the prototype for the PA-1. The song has a very Chicago-blues feel, and I wanted to use the old-school Harmony pickups in that guitar because they’re really, really distorted.

As a label owner and record producer, what are some of your best memories of the last 20 years?
Well, we got in on the ground floor of what’s now Americana. Its needle has been up and down, and now it’s up again because of Mumford and Sons, acoustic guitars, and people are coming around to that being a viable musical “style” for lack of a term.

I couldn’t be more proud of the records we’ve made on Little Dog, and I’d go into any label-head card game and say, “Here’s my Joy Lynn White, here’s my Adam Hood, here’s my Moot Davis.” I’m very, very happy with our catalog and I’ve never made a record that I was not completely enthralled with.

And now, of course, it has become a digital world. I’m reformulating my distribution and making sure it’s locked down. I’ve been handling distribution internally, and it’s very difficult on top of simply running the label, my career, the studio… So we’re getting ready to jump into the digital thing really hard. One thing about that is you can do compilation records very easily. In the digital world, you come up with some art and a sequence, so I want to start doing The Roots of Americana Volumes 1-12 or whatever, and expose more people to the artists who are or were part of Little Dog.

It’s funny how the paradigm has shifted. It used to be if you didn’t have a record label, you weren’t in the business because record companies controlled the studios, the distribution chain, access to the media, and access to record stores. Now, the last thing you need is a record deal. Now, the recording studio is your laptop, distribution is your web page. The majority of what a record company offered is now irrelevant.

What are some of the harder lessons you’ve learned from running a label?
Well, I learned that I can’t love what an artist does more than the artist themself does. That was a big lesson. When you see somebody’s talent and want to make a record and help them be successful, but they don’t want it as much… I can’t be more excited about you than you are. And that’s tough, because I see some stuff where I go, “Geez, this is brilliant!” I’m a sucker for great songwriting and talent, but I can’t work with someone with a lack of will. So few people have the same intensity and concentration that Dwight and I had.

That sort of ambition is pretty rare?
I hate to say it, but I think it is. It’s just not something I see every day. The story of Pete and Dwight is about two guys who literally came from nowhere and willed themselves a career, hearing “No” at every turn. “We don’t need you. We don’t want you.” I stood there from day one with a song called “I Sang Dixie” – one of the greatest country songs of all time – thinking, “What am I missing here?” But we kept going and that first album, against all odds, sold two million copies.

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This article originally appeared in VG December 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Fans of Tommy Castro might be shocked with some of the guitar tones on his latest record, The Devil You Know. His straightforward R&B sounds are still there, but, he says, “I had fun trying new stuff.”

On his dozen or so career albums, Castro has made significant effort to mix it up.

“I’ve done the big-band thing with the horns, and had a great time doing that,” he said. “I remember I had the smaller band and thought it’d be great with the horns – and I could do it to sound more authentic. Then I really started getting into these guitar-and-drum bands. I thought it was a great idea, just a guitarist and drummer, which sounds killer, like the White Stripes. I was really digging that. But then I saw Tab Benoit with a trio, and it sounded too cool. There was all this space, but it was very groovy and rhythmic. That setting gives the guy on guitar a chance to play. I thought, ‘Next time, I’ll cut things down.’”

The new disc has the tried-and-true funk R&B Castro has always dealt, with his slinky guitar tone and leather-lung vocals. The title cut, however, shows a different side of his guitar tone.

“It’s an interesting combination of gear. I used an Echoplex, an Octofuzz, and a phase shifter. I wanted a big, fuzzy, wacky, gnarly tone for the fills. It was so fun I felt like a kid playing with toys. I just cranked it up and played.

“I wanted to take it up a notch. I’ve never been happy with my guitar playing – I had a career before I was [a decent] player and I’ve been trying to catch up. I’ve made a few improvements, working with tones and different effects and guitars. In the old days, I played my old Strat into a Super with reverb. That was about it.”

Showing a sense of humor about his playing, he adds with a laugh, “I didn’t know I was going to have a career that lasted so long. So I finally got tired of that tone. After a while I just felt I had to do something else.”

Castro pulled in some help from very talented friends, too, starting with the producer, Bonnie Hayes.

“She’s a songwriting expert,” he said. “She’s a great songwriter and teaches it in colleges and camps. She really knows her way around, works fast, but she is really all about songs. So, her and I collaborated on a few things and she helped shore up some other things that were in the works.”

Other folks who helped on the album include Benoit, Marcia Ball, Joe Bonamassa, and, on harp, former J. Geils member Magic Dick. “There was a plan, but I didn’t know who would be on it. On my last album, I made a point of having no guests. I was actually silly enough to think that was going to be my hook! It was going to be ‘the record with no guests’ because everyone was putting out records with guests. But for this one, I just kind of left it up to the universe to see who would be on the album.”

For much of the record, Castro used his most-familiar guitar, a black ’60s Strat, but also grabbed “a whole bunch of things. To be honest, I’m in limbo at the moment,” he said. “I have my Strat and a Firebird I got from Gibson a couple years ago that I’ve been using a lot for slide. But, I’m building a Warmoth with their Jazzcaster body and a Strat neck. I’m going to put a humbucker on the bridge, a P-90 in the bridge and a Strat pickup on the neck. I figure that might be a very interesting guitar because I won’t have to switch much to get the different sounds. It’ll be black with a white-pearl pickguard.”

Among his amplifiers, Castro relies mostly on a Mesa Boogie TA-30, though he had access to many different amps in the studio while making the new record.

Beyond the different guitar sounds, Castro says long-time listeners will hear other differences. “We started approaching the music from the drums up,” he said. “We wanted to make a record that didn’t have all the same grooves and beats. I had a little epiphany. Started listening to all this music I was really digging, and noticed all their great different approaches to rhythms. I realized I had been using the same beats over and over. Not much variation. So, we really had fun with that and I’m really pleased with the way things worked out. And, I think it’s more than a little different!”

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This article originally appeared in VG July 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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