It’s a brave new world for Drive-By Truckers and their latest album, Brighter Than Creation’s Dark. Guitarist/songwriter Patterson Hood says the record flowed from the band. “Everybody finally got a little bit of time off last year,” said Hood. “We’d been touring non-stop and it got to the point where we hit a wall. Jason (Isbell, guitarist/writer/singer), of course moved on to do his own thing. It was, I think, the right decision for everybody. He’s doing wonderful work with his band and I think he’s happier.
“Working with Bettye LaVette on her last record also affected our record a lot. It gave us a chance to work on something that wasn’t a Drive-By Truckers record, but still got to work together. Plus we brought in Spooner Oldham, and that’s when we decided we wanted him to work on our new record and acoustic tour.”
The band starting working up new songs at soundchecks and would play them at that night’s performance. “We worked up 12 songs during the tour. And then in the studio we cut 17 songs in 10 days and had a great time. It was very loose and fun.”
Hood also points to the emergence of bassist Shonna Tucker as a writer and singer. “I’m so glad she’s doing it. We knew she was good, but this was her first chance to do it for us. She joined the band in the middle of something and had to dive into learning songs, so it’s great to hear her write like this.”
While the record still has nasty rock and roll and loud guitars, there’s a definite country tilt to some songs. “Our first two records kind of dabbled in that, but then we moved in other directions,” Hood noted. “(guitarist/singer/writer Mike) Cooley was kind of leading the way on that.”
Being guitar heavy has never presented a problem for DBT. “It’s very natural,” Hood says with a laugh. “Most things are best when we’re not having to discuss them too much. Whoever brings the song in kind of shepherds it through the direction it’s going to take. Our motto has always been ‘Song is King,’ so it all has to be based on what serves the song.”
Hood’s road to rock and roll success has been a long journey. His father is David Hood, bassist for the legendary Muscle Shoals rhythm section, and he knew early on that he wanted to be in music, even if his dad wasn’t in favor. “He warned me – he was leading the charge. He wanted me to be a pharmacist. Feel free to insert your own joke there. But I always knew this was what I’d do. It just didn’t occur to me it would take so long to carve out a living doing it. If someone told me I’d be in my 40s before I made a stable living at it, I just really wouldn’t have believed it.”
Patterson says it was his dad’s record collection that really got him going. “I don’t want this to sound wrong, but he was gone a lot, working. He kind of beats himself up about that now, but it’s like ‘You know what? It all worked out.’ But he had this huge record collection and I’d go downstairs after school when I was supposed to be doing homework and if something had a cool cover, I’d pull it out and play it. That’s why I’m so fanatical about the artwork on our covers. Because when I was young, that’s how I decided what I wanted to listen to.” He listened to lots of Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and surprisingly, Todd Rundgren. “I discovered him at about 12. He was really a big influence as a writer. It’s funny, people don’t see that or hear that in our music, but I could go through our records and point out something in every song I wrote that was somehow influenced by him, and especially the album Something/Anything.
One of Drive-By Truckers recordings has reached legendary status for fans. 2001’s Southern Rock Opera is an amazing double-record that ties together Lynyrd Skynyrd, the South, misconceptions about both, civil rights, and much more. It was first conceived as a possible screenplay by Patterson and a friend, and after many years, the band started recording it. “I liked Skynyrd when they were happening, but then I became a snotty punk rock kid and for 15 years I hated them. But when I moved to super-hip Athens, Georgia, I kind of stumbled onto the records and then became interested in them. People misunderstood them for things they did, and I relate to that – more every year!”
Recording the sprawling epic almost broke up the band. “It was one of the worst experiences of my life. We didn’t have any money. We recorded it in a warehouse with no air conditioning during a heat wave. Everyone in the band was having personal problems and we started taking it out on each other. By the time we started mixing the record, no one was speaking to each other. Maybe someday, I’ll write a great book about it. Or maybe a rock opera… just kidding!”
Patterson’s guitar of choice is his ’69 Gibson Les Paul goldtop. “It’s a sweetheart. Easily the best electric guitar I’ve ever played. I do have a newer goldtop for touring. I still take out the ’69, but I don’t want to fly with it.” He and other members of the band have also become fans of Denver luthier Scott Baxendale. He calls the acoustic Baxendale made him “the best guitar I’ve ever played.” On the road, Patterson uses a Fender Deluxe reissue amp and has a ’72 Twin Reverb he restored but doesn’t use much. “It’s so big and loud that I don’t play it much with the band. We’re trying to bring our volume down to a more manageable level.” – John Heidt
This article originally appeared in VG‘s May 2008 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
There’s no two waysabout it – thanks to MTV dunces Beavis and Butthead, Winger gets no respect. But the band knows how write killer pop-rock tunes, has one of the baddest rock-fusion drummers in Rod Morgenstern, and rock-solid bassist Kip Winger knows how to craft a great lyrical hook. And it has a new live double CD and having survived the fate of most ’80s “hair bands” it lives on. In the middle of this is studio vet Reb Beach, who lays down chunky, energetic rhythms and sizzling guitar solos. And Beach moonlights, lending his smokin’ chops to other ’80s stalwarts like Dokken, Whitesnake, and Night Ranger.
The new live Winger CD has a rough, edgy quality. It’s very chunky.
We didn’t really re-do anything after recording it. Those are the original guitars. And I’m happy the way it turned out – it’s a good representation of what the band is like live. A lot of people didn’t really know that Winger did that… and they still don’t (laughs)!
Why wouldn’t people know Winger plays live?
It’s the worst name in rock (laughs)! Musicians know us as good players but the consensus on Winger is ’80s pop. But we love to play, and it’s fun to watch people. At the end of the night, everyone’s happy. You see people at first standing there with their arms folded saying, “My wife dragged me to this stupid thing!” By the end they’re screaming, “Yeah!”
The live version of “Rainbow In The Rose” is very cool.
That’s Kip Winger’s baby, and it took him months to write. It’s one of my favorites. You can tell he’s that kind of musician – he studied with people from Julliard and still studies music every day. I just drink beer and play guitar! I’ll play a riff and he’ll say, “Okay, there’s your verse, now go to E, that’s going to be our bridge.” He’s really a great arranger.
What keeps you guys together despite all the cork sniffers out there?
Kip wanted to get our ya-yas out before we were too old to do it. His real love is classical music, but he likes to rock. It just seemed we should do this before we’re in our 60s. We wanted to see what the vibe is and so far it’s been shocking how people really dig it.
Is this a farewell tour?
Kip is my best friend. We talk all the time, so we’ll always be doing stuff together. He produced my album, The Mob. Of all the bands we’re in, and the different projects we do, this is our favorite. Hopefully David Coverdale won’t read this (laughs)! But it’s music we wrote, and all we do is laugh all night on the bus. It’s a really good time. It’s four really nice, fun guys. Most bands have at least one troublemaker, but this one doesn’t. It’s just drinkin’ and having fun. Whitesnake is much more professional and regimented. With Whitesnake you’re at the Ritz-Carlton in New Zealand, with Winger you’re at the Quality Inn in New Jersey (laughs)!
You filled in for Night Ranger…
Yeah, all summer. It was excellent. I learned how to play the whammy bar by listening to Brad Gilliss. If you listen to Winger, there’s all kinds of vibrato screams on there – I ripped off all that from Brad. I was totally influenced by him. And those solos were way more challenging than Whitesnake!
You played all the Jeff Watson solos note for note?
I did it the same way I had to learn George Lynch for Dokken. I do it my way. If you get to a riff that’s not your style, you make it your style. You use the same notes but with your technique. I got to play “Don’t Tell Me You Love Me” and that song just rocks with the double solos. It was really fun.
Did you have to modify your sound for Night Ranger?
My tone is perfect for Night Ranger – straight ahead rock, with some poppy songs.
Have you found any new gear you like?
The Pigtronix PolySaturator is such a good-sounding pedal. You can plug into a Fender Twin and make it sound like a Marshall. I couldn’t believe it. There’s crunch and low-end, and the EQ does a lot. Their echo pedal is phenomenally cool. – Oscar Jordan
This article originally appeared in VG‘s May 2008 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Joe Peña (front) and Greyhound Soul. Photo courtesy Greyhound Soul.
“[My ’59 Les Pal Junior] sounds so good that whoever’s going to play the main part in a song plays it. I insist! I think the pickups are late ’60s or early ’70s Alnicos, and the damn thing is so warm.”
Joe Peña, primary songwriter for the Arizona-based rock band Greyhound Soul, says their latest album, Tonight and Every Night, is slightly mellower than their previous three because it came from a place writers don’t always want to go.
“Our other records have more pop and rock stuff going on,” he said. “But I wanted to make something more personal. And I wanted to make it a little more quiet,” he said. “The songs came up like they always do, from relationship(s).”
Despite the quiet, there’s lots of moody, atmospheric guitar guiding the songs here supplied by Peña, Jason DeCorse, and Robin Johnson.
Peña formed Greyhound Soul in 1995. “I didn’t want to play drums anymore,” he recalled. “I had a guitar and wanted to write songs. Everyone has a great guitar player in their lives, and for me, Jason was the guy. He liked some of my stuff and it turns out he’s an amazing player. I knew he was good, but I didn’t realize he had the kind of emotion, you know?” Bassist Duane Hollis and drummer Alan Anderson were playing in a local heavy metal band that had lost its singer. Peña also points to Robin Johnson’s guitar playing as one of the band’s strengths.
The band recorded at Loveland Studios, in Tucson, and for the first time, digitally. “It was a lot more fun. It was effortless,” he said. “Nathan Sabatino recorded and engineered it, and he was such a great guy to work with. Anything you wanted to do, he would do it. It’s kind of bizarre when the guys who know how to do it and do it well are working on your record. We pretty much just went in and knocked out the tunes.” Laughing, he adds, “It probably could have been better. There’s a lot of nicks and dings.”
Greyhound Soul spends most of its collective time around Tucson, Phoenix, and Bisbee. But lately, it has been making treks to Europe. “People pay a little more attention there,” Peña says. “They really seem to dig it and like to go out and check out the band instead of just going out for beers. It makes you play differently. We had to change the whole game, which was awesome for us. It’s fun when you can hear each other and you’re playing with the other guys in the band. That’s the sh*t right there, you know?”
Peña’s guitar collection has taken a different route than most players of his age. “I’ve never bought a guitar,” he admits. “I’ll still buy drums all day long… cymbals, old high-hats, that’s the neat stuff for me.” His guitar collection started with one he never gets to play – a ’59 Les Paul Junior given to him by his father. “It sounds so good that whoever’s going to play the main part in a song plays it. I insist! Dad gave it to me when I was 13 and wants it back now, but I’m not going to give it to him!! It’s mine. I think the pickups are late ’60s or early ’70s Alnicos, and the damn thing is so warm. It’s really the sound that’s on all of our records. If we have a sound, that guitar is one of the main reasons for it.”
He also points to a Dean resonator he admittedly can’t stop playing. “A buddy gave it to me and I can’t put it down,” he said. “He gave it to me because he wanted to see what it sounded like onstage. So far I’ve found a way to hold on to it. I love the way it sounds.”
He also has an old Guild he “got in an odd way,” though he doesn’t offer up details. Other notable guitars in the band include DeCorse’s ’72 Fender Telecaster that was a gift from his own father.
Peña prefers Fender amps, and they don’t have to be vintage, he says. He has a Twin and a Blues Deluxe that he says he simply “hooks up and looks for what’s working.”
Asked what the future may hold for Greyhound Soul, Peña says he’ll keep writing, and they’ll keep gigging, plowing ahead forging its sound created by their unusual mix of backgrounds and, especially, musical influences. “Everyone in the band kind of comes from a different place,” he said. “It’s funny how it works. It’s kind of a shame we never got to the point of a band that lived together, you know? But, it works!” – John Heidt
This article originally appeared in VG‘s May 2008 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Everyone of a certain age – and no doubt some younger folks – remembers the sage career advice given young Benjamin Braddock in the classic film The Graduate: “Plastics.” In 1967, such wisdom was humorous because young people knew business was full of “plastic people” in suits.
So, it’s especially ironic that someone of a certain age would sing the praises of a plastic-covered guitar like this ’67 Norma EG 470-2 Deluxe!
Plastics are “pliable” substances, and there are two basic kinds – natural and synthetic, both made from a “resin.” Natural plastics are often made from tree (e.g., gutta percha, amber) or insect (shellac) secretions, and date back at least to ancient Egypt. Synthetic plastics are made from chemical compounds and date to the 19th century. Synthetics are either thermoplastic (heated, molded, cooled to harden) or thermoset (heated to harden).
Modern synthetic plastics came about as part of a natural-resources crisis inspired by (of all things) billiard balls. Billiards became popular in the 19th century, when the balls were carved from elephant ivory. You could get two or three from a single tusk, but it quickly became clear that there weren’t enough elephants to sustain the industry. So, one ball manufacturer offered a prize for a synthetic substitute. In 1869, American inventor John Wesley Hyatt devised celluloid, a thermoplastic. Basically, he broke down cotton into its primordial cell matter using acid to get cellulose nitrate, then combined it with camphor. He won the prize. The only problem was that early celluloid was highly combustible – not good for billiard balls! Improvements were made and celluloid was manufactured beginning in 1872. Celluloid appeared on guitars later in the 19th century as trapeze tailpieces.
In 1909, another American inventor, L.H. Baekeland, polymerized phenol and formaldehyde by a thermosetting process. His creation, Bakelite, is best-known for its use in another type of ball – for bowling – and telephones. Bakelite showed up on guitars as archtop pickguards, tuner buttons, a bridge made by Kay, and even as the structural material of early electric guitars (e.g. Rickenbacker) in the early 1930s. Bakelite had to be dark because of its composition, which is why its black or brown. A competing compound was developed that could be made a lighter color.
Today, guitars employ more-sophisticated plastics, however, they all derive from thermoplasts and thermosets.
This Norma is covered in sparkle celluloid – a basically clear substance to which other materials are added to create the color. Tortoise celluloid, for example, involves various shades of brown and tan material, and not stirring it too well. Metallic-gold celluloid appeared on guitars as trim in the 1920s and was called “tinsel.” It graduated to pickguards and faceplates in the ’50s. However, it was with European accordion making that application of celluloid as a “finish” began, again, in the 1920s, if not before. Ivoroid, made much like tortoise, was common, as was tinsel trim. It was the Swedish accordion maker Hagstrom that probably first applied the technique to guitars with the ’58 P-46 De Luxe. The technique proliferated in the early ’60s, spreading from Europe to Japan.
Which brings us back to Norma. If billiards created plastics, nuts and bolts created Norma guitars. Following World War II, a part of the restoration strategy for Japan was to build up manufacturing capabilities for export. By the ’50s, Japanese products began to appear in the US. In the late ’50s, a Chicagoan named Norman Sackheim started Heads and Threads to import Japanese nuts and bolts. He was successful and sold out in 1960, staying on as advisor for three years. At that time, the Beatles began to break. Sackheim met with Fred Targ, of music distributor Targ & Diner, who needed guitar suppliers. In ’64, Sackheim formed Strum & Drum and used his contacts in Japanese trade to find manufacturers, debuting Norma Big Value guitars the following year; many were sold to Targ & Diner.
The Norma Plas-Twinkle (seriously!) series appeared in 1967, ironically during the Summer of Love, when “plastic” was a pejorative and demand for guitars had begun to decline. Clearly, the inspiration was the Eko guitars of a few years earlier. The Plas-Twinkle Deluxes came in various sparkle celluloid finishes, including gold, red, and blue, and two, three, or four pickups, all with vibratos. Seen here is the Norma EG 470-2 Deluxe Two Pickup with Tremolo (sic). These were made by Tombo in Japan. The pickups are controlled by on/off rockers, with a master Volume and two Tone controls – basic but adequate. These often need a bit of setup, but play fine, though with limited tonal flexibility.
Strum & Drum continued importing guitars through the end of the decade, some quite noteworthy. American guitar making, especially at the lower-end, began unraveling shortly after the Plas-Twinkles. Valco purchased Kay in ’67 and went out of business in ’68 – the same year Strum & Drum purchased the Noble brand from accordion king Don Noble and put it on one of the first Japanese copies of the Mosrite Combo to appear in the U.S. In August of ’69, the assets of Valco/Kay were auctioned, and Strum & Drum purchased the National brand, which promptly found itself on some of the earliest copies of the Les Paul (Big Daddy, 1970) and Telecaster (Finger-Talker, ’71). By ’72, Strum & Drum was ready to get out of the guitar game and go back to nuts and bolts, and the Norma, Noble, and National brands went into hibernation.
Are Norma Plas-Twinkles rare? That’s difficult to say, given they had a run of a year or slightly more. There’s no way to tell how many were imported, much less sold. By ’67, demand for imported guitars was dropping. And while sparkle plastic guitars may have been cool when bands wore matching suits, they were unhip to youth in non-matching bell-bottom jeans with flowers in their hair. Normas were just too… well, “plastic!”
This article originally appeared in VG’s June 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Chicago Blues Box Buddy Guy Signature Amp Price: $4,800 Butler Custom Sound/Chicago Blues Box 1040 N. Dupage Ave, Lombard, IL 60148 (630) 268-2670 www.chicagobluesbox.com
Whether you’re a blues guitarist, jazz guy, or a power-chord rock player, certain players draw your attention, whether for the style, songs, or tone.
Given Buddy Guy’s status, it’s fitting that the Chicago-based amp builder Butler Custom Sound recently teamed up with the master to put his name on one of their Chicago Blues Box amplifiers.
In designing the 4×10″/60-watt combo Buddy Guy Signature amp, Chicago Blues Box (CBB) main man Dan Butler performed a thorough reverse-engineering of Guy’s “alpha” amp, a 1959 Fender Bassman, documenting every transformer, resistor, capacitor, and tube, and constantly compared tones between the ’59 and the CBB prototype. He also sent one prototype on tour with Guy for six months.
Aesthetically, the Buddy Guy Signature tosses a nostalgic nod to the tweed Bassman. Its finger-jointed pine cabinet is covered in tweed and sprayed in a tinted lacquer that gives it an aged vibe, which is further enhanced by its cane grill. The cabinet has an overall very solid feel.
Rather than trying to duplicate the circuitry of Guy’s ’59 Bassman, the team at CBB decided to replicate its tones by using custom-made components and their own circuit to match some of the characteristics of the 47-year-old amp. In the process, Butler spared no expense and cut no corners. One example is the Buddy Guy’s pots, which are custom-made and hand-assembled by CTS to match the actual drifting values in the originals! After measuring the impedance of the pots in Guy’s Bassman (which were original), he sent measurements to an engineer at CTS who was familiar with the company’s assembly process in 1959. After several attempts, CTS was able to re-create the values and build pots with a separate carbon wafer tabbed over the structural mounting wafer.
Also, its output transformer is hand-wound and paper-interleaved. Butler says newer production transformers use a straight wind on plastic bobbins, and are built using plastic tape for insulators. Paper, being thinner and known to provide better magnetic coupling between layers, provides more efficient coupling, less signal loss, and therefore, he says, better tone.
The amp’s controls include Volume, Treble, Mid, Bass, and Presence and with inputs for Normal and Bright channels. Bias controls allow for individual tube biasing. It uses two TAD 6L6 tubes, with three 12AX7s in the preamp section. The sound is then pushed through four 10″ Jensen P10R reissue Alnico-magnet speakers.
Hand-assembled pots, high-end transformers and alnico speakers aside, CBB engineered this amp to be not only tonally superior in a world of Bassman wannabes, but built it to be rugged – it does indeed have a very solid feel, especially when you consider that the cabinet is pine, which is a relatively lightweight wood.
To test the amp, we plugged in a Fender 1960 Relic Stratocaster with Fender Custom Shop pickups, and a G&L ASAT Deluxe with Seymour Duncans. Running first through the Normal input, we set all of the dials to straight up 12 o’clock, powered it up, and were immediately greeted with a finely balanced sound. Even at low volume, the low-end, midrange, and high-frequency sounds projected evenly. As we struck a single note, the amp offered a majestic sustain that would put a smile on the face of even the most stringent stickler. Dialing the Bass control up added great thickness to the tone without muddying it up at all, while moving the Treble up gave us that terrific, oh-so-popular Fenderish bite, reminding us yet again why these amps are such a staple.
Like any good amp, the CBB Buddy Guy is very responsive, which means the player has tremendous control over his tone simply by manipulating the guitar’s Volume knob. Even at low output levels, the guitar’s inherent tones were never compromised by this amp.
Turning up the Volume revealed a ton of head room; striking a chord, we could hear every note, especially at higher volumes. Bumping up the volume added a subtle old-school gain to the tone, and as we moved through different pickup configurations on the Strat, we could quickly achieve tones that any blues or country player would love.
With the G&L, we first tried the humbuckers through the amp’s Bright side, and got a pleasant non-overbearing bite that evened out nicely with the humbuckers. With just minor tweaking, we dialed in a terrific, fat rhythm sound. Playing with the Presence control gave the tone more life. The amp definitely did not play favorites to either pickup type. The amp loved them all!
Noodling through this amp in the studio, we couldn’t resist laying down a few tracks. For the session player, our results were dream-like. Leaving everything at 12 o’clock left a terrific rhythm and lead tone.
The CBB Buddy Guy Signature Amp is a straight-up, straightforward tone machine that offers all the tone and character that draws players to tweed-era amps, but with the benefit of modern circuitry.
Whether in a studio or live setting, it offers an array of tones, combined with a well-built, lighter-weight cabinet designed to last on the road. Yes, even in the jaded world of boutique amps, the price tag could induce sticker shock. But then, how do you put a price on the type of tone that inspires a player to be their best, or maybe even go beyond what they thought possible? – Jason Lee Austin
This article originally appeared in VG’s March 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
DNA Analogic Effects Price: $275-$325 Godlyke Distributing Company PO Box 3076, Clifton, NJ 07012 (866) 246-3595 www.godlyke.com
If you‘re a “first impressions mean a lot” kind of gearhead, DNA Analogic’s line of effects pedals may just win your heart the instant you crack open the box(es).
Housed in cast-aluminum casings and employing heavy-duty metal control knobs that convey a certifiable “built to last” aesthetic, these mid-sized boxes certainly look unique, and bear funky names any guitar geek will love – Virtual Tube, Purple Phase, Smoky Fuzz, and Gain Fxxker. They also bear the earmarks shared by other high-quality boutique pedals, including true-bypass switching, but also boast a couple of less-common twists like top-mounted connection jacks, which not only reduce the chances of them being accidentally unplugged, and help save space on a pedalboard. A unique twist in the DNA line is Mr. Eight, a rechargeable power source that will power up to eight nine-volt effects through the course of a gig without the “aid” of a power cord.
To give a listen to this strand of DNA pedals, we grabbed our Tom Anderson Drop Top, plugged it into a Fender Hot Rod Deluxe, and went to work experimenting.
First up was the Virtual Tube. Kicking it in with its Level, Cut, and Drive controls set halfway, the pedal offered big-time gain and drive that was smooth and controllable. Tweaking the Cut control in both directions revealed a quick taper from about two-thirds to full up. Adjusting levels, the Virtual Tube produced nice tones ranging from clean to dirty to full-on distortion. The Hot Rod Deluxe has its own tube-driven distortion channel, and in an A/B comparison we found a striking similarity between them.
The Purple Phase has two switches; one is a standard bypass, the other selects sounds ranging from a standard phase shift to a more oscillating sound reminiscent of Keef on the Stones’ “Shattered” (Sha-doo-be, indeed). The box’s LED indicator changes from green to red to let you know which function is engaged, and there’s a 1/4″ output that lets a player connect the unit to a volume pedal. A quick turn with our trusty ol’ Ernie Ball volume pedal revealed a high degree of usability; controlling the speed of the effect with one’s foot is fun, and quite “handy.” If you’re looking for MXR Phase 90-type modulation, this pedal probably isn’t for you, but its variety of sound options is a definite plus.
The Smoky Fuzz has controls for Volume, Sense, and Fuzz. This box produces a crunch similar to the Virtual Tube, but it’s less subtle. Its Sense control helps the user adjust the tone from warm to thin.
If asked to pick a favorite, we’d step first on the last pedal we tried – the Gain Fxxker II. With its four distinct and very usable controls, it has a wider range of tonal options than the Smoky Fuzz or Virtual Tube, and offers endless sustain, excellent harmonic overtones, and of course, the Fxxk knob (you gotta love that name!), which adds a nice dose of warm, deep low-end.
For the metalhead bass player in your circle, there’s the DNA Bass Dragger. This box can also be used as a preamp into a PA or a digital work station, which is how we tested it.
Using an Ibanez bass with a naturally midrange-heavy tone running into a Roland VS2000 digital hard disc recorder, we adjusted the Dragger’s Level to full, Boost to zero, Bass and Treble straight up, and found the instrument’s tone was markedly more balanced, with full, round low-end response and a slight increase in gain, but no additional signal noise.
The Dragger’s Boost control added distortion ranging from moderate to intense (hey, bass players should get to play around some, too, right?). The Bass Dragger isn’t much for subtlety – with the Boost control just a quarter of the way up, it gets to growlin’ pretty hard!
Overall, DNA Analogic’s mid-sized effects offer much in the way of good looks, cool sounds, and an old-school sound vibe. – Richard Torrance
This article originally appeared in VG’s March 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
HomeBrew Electronics Hematoma Price: $195 HomeBrew Electronics 3607 W. Campo Bello Drive, Glendale AZ 85308 (602) 298-1064 www.homebrewelectronics.com
Like a lot of gear-making companies whose stuff is warmly received, Joel and Andrea Weaver at HomeBrew Electronics have never rested on their laurels. Instead, the effects-pedal builders have launched piece after piece of super-usable, good-sounding, roadworthy pedals with cool names like the Psilocybe phase shifter, THC chorus, Medicine Bawl wah, Full Metal Jacket distortion, and the Mimic delay.
Until recently, though, they didn’t offer any “preampage” just for bass players. Consider that dilemma fixed as you shake hands with the Hematoma Bass Overdrive.
Housed in HBE’s trademark heavy duty 45/8″ x 35/8″ x 13/8″ die-cast metal chassis, the Hematoma’s heritage carries through to its chassis-mounted Italian-made 1/4″ jacks and metal-shaft potentiometers, true-bypass footswitches, and high-quality metal film resistors and capacitors. Our test pedal was finished in a cool matte black with purple silkscreen print. For a slight upcharge ($10 to $20), a customer can choose a finish from HBE’s rainbow of metallic-paint finishes, and patterns from polka-dot to checkerboard. There’s even a vintage tweed covering, and your choice of knobs.
Other small-but-important features incorporated into HomeBrew pedals include a heavy-duty battery clamp, status LEDs that can easily be seen on a lighted stage, and chassis-mounted 9-volt external power supply jack.
The Hematoma’s control layout includes a separate Pre-Gain boost/cut section with its own bypass footswitch and control, as well as a separate overdrive section with controls for Gain, Level and Tone, plus an EQ Shift switch and true-bypass footswitch.
We tested the Hematoma using a Carvin five-string bass through a Carvin amp head and 2×10″ cabinet, as well as a G&L L2000 through an Ampeg SVT3 Pro head and Ampeg 4×10″.
The Pre-Gain section produces a nice boost/cut that adds no noise or coloration, but does give the player control over the amount of gain. When we punched in the overdrive section, the Hematoma offered up a sweet, fat distortion with no buzz, very smooth midrange, and consistent low-end; the tone stayed full and free of coloration.
The Pre-Gain section works well to compensate for variations in output levels between two basses, which makes the Hematoma a great accessory if you switch between a couple of basses in a live situation.
By manipulating the Pre-Gain and Gain controls in the overdrive section, we were able to dial up anything from a slightly dirty/grungy tone like you might get from a tube amp, to full-blown distortion with tons of sustain. The Tone knob and EQ Shift mini-toggle produce well-voiced sounds, and are very handy for compensating between tone differences from the humbuckers (as on our G&L) and from the single-coils in the Carvin.The only thing missing is a balanced XLR line-out.
With its true-bypass footswitch, transparent tone, and separate Pre-Gain section, the Hematoma is a sure thing for gigging bassists. – Phil Feser/Doug Klein
This article originally appeared in VG’s March 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
HAO Rust Driver/Sole Pressure Price: $180/$200 (list) Godlyke Distributing Company PO Box 3076, Clifton, NJ 07012 (866) 246-3595 www.godlyke.com
For nearly 20 years, Japanese electronics distributor J.E.S. International has been providing gearheads in its country with guitars, amps, and pedals – imported and domestic.
In 2000, the company moved from merely distributing gear to actually making it. Key to the transition was the arrival of a group of engineers who spent several years designing digital signal processor (DSP) algorithms and developing acoustic guitar preamps for some of the biggest names in the music industry.
When those engineers hired on at J.E.S., the subsidy HAO Musical Instrument Tech was born with the express purpose of making high-quality, hand-built guitar effects pedals and today they make five overdrive/boost pedals designed to replicate various forms of classic vintage amplifiers.
HAO recently invited us to have a go with their newest creations, the Rust Driver and Sole Pressure boxes. Each pedal measures a convenient 4.5″ x 2.5″ x 1.75″ which means they don’t suck up a whole lot of space on a pedalboard.
The Rust Driver is designed to emulate the sounds of a certain late-’60s British amplifier with a plexiglas faceplate. On first glance, it seems about as meat-and-potatoes as you can get, with just a Level knob for controlling the pedal’s signal output. The unit’s distortion is adjusted using a three-way mini-toggle switch labeled “Normal/Bright/Warm.” A 9-volt DC power connection is located on the side.
We tested the HAOs using a Fender American Strat and a PRS Custom 22 running into a Gabriel Sound Garage Voxer 18 amp.
Setting the amp clean with just a hint of breakup and the Rust Driver’s mini-toggle set to Normal, we rolled the Level back to 10 o’clock. Hitting a chord on the Strat produced a very nice, transparent rhythm tone. Dialing up the Driver’s Level control, we could hear the plexi overtones start to emerge, along with a nice balance between pedal, guitar, and amp. Moving the toggle to the Bright position, we were instantly greeted with a beautiful British-style lead tone, especially through the neck pickup.
Switching the pedal to the Warm position and moving the pickup selector to the middle gave a fantastic, bluesy lead tone.
Switching to the humbucker-equipped PRS, the pedal didn’t appreciably muddy-up the tone, as so many overdrive pedals are apt to do. Strummed chord sounds remained very articulate. The Normal position gave a very basic British overdriven tone, while the Bright setting really made the guitar stand out, especially as we switched through pickup configurations. Rolling off the guitar’s Volume knob didn’t affect the tone of the pedal, either. We could clean up the tone and retain the separate dynamics of the pedal and amp.
The pedals Warm setting arguably produced the greatest variety of tones with the PRS, from a nice jazz-style tone to a deep, overdriven lead tone, by just rolling back the Volume on the guitar. The Level control gives this unit a ton of flexibility. It does a fantastic job, without playing favorites to humbuckers or single-coils, especially when you consider it has fixed distortion settings.
The Sole Pressure is a low-frequency booster that designed to produce the type of tones that make 6V6-driven amps so desirable.
The pedal’s layout is very similar to that of the Rust Driver, with a knob for controlling output Level, three-way toggle, and 9-volt DC connection. But this one adds a Drive setting that allows the user to control the amount of distortion in the mix.
To test it, we plugged it in between a Fender Highway 1 Telecaster and a single-speaker Gibson GA-15RV combo. With the amp’s controls and the Rust Driver’s Level set at unity and the toggle set at Normal, the pedal produced a tone very reminiscent of an old Fender Bassman. The guitar sounded full and deep while maintaining the integrity of the amp’s signal. Rolling the Drive back gave a very nice clean boost with a variable amount of gain.
Moving the Drive up, we could hear a nice, soft overdrive, and moving the Level to match the Drive really brought the amp to life. Switching the toggle to the Bright position made the sound of each string more pronounced while still sustaining the note. Cranking the Drive and Level gave the amp that 6V6 tube tone reminiscent of tweed amps.
Setting the toggle to Warm covered the tone with a pleasing mellow, fat blanket. And with further experimentation, the combination of the Drive, Level, and toggle switch give this box nearly limitless options.
HAO’s Sole Pressure and Rust Driver pedals do a great job of re-creating the feel and tones they were designed to make. Those who play through a basic production tube amp will enjoy the lead overdrive/boost tones they produce, and those who roll with a vintage or high-end boutique amp will discover a plethora of pleasing tones through either or both of them. – Jason Lee Austin
This article originally appeared in VG’s March 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Three new aftermarket vibrato systems for common double- and single-cutaway solidbody guitars offer the convenience of “drop in” installation. Each system boasts unique features and improved performance.
Brainchild of designers Jeff Athrop and Marc Caldwell, the SuperVee is a direct-replacement (a.k.a. “drop in”) unit requiring no modifications, no drilling, and no routing. We tested a prototype unit installed by SuperVee on a Fender Strat.
The system consists of a locking nut unit and a replacement bridge, and the first couple of things we noticed were 1) the high-quality, well-machined look and feel of its parts, and 2) the visually unusual locking nut assembly. Unlike most locking nuts, this one requires no modification or routing. Simply pop out the stock nut and install the new nut/clamp assembly, using a drop of glue to hold it in place. The nut/clamp assembly uses a stainless steel pre-slotted 9.5″ (or 7.25″)-radius nut with an attached clamping unit that pinches each string in a zigzag-shaped channel via two Allen-head screws (one for the E, A, and D strings, one for G, B, and E).
The SuperVee’s bridge isn’t significantly larger, bulkier, or taller than a stock Strat bridge, and sports a couple of innovative features like its six-piece bridge-end string clamp/fine tuner assemblies and six separate saddles instead of the standard all-in-one piece. This allows the saddles to be individually adjusted for height and intonation, like standard Strat saddles, with no saddle shims or time-consuming intonation/setup.
The other innovative feature is the bridge pivot point, or in the case of the SuperVee, the lack of one. Instead of a bridge that pivots on two screws or a “knife-edge,” the SuperVee uses a piece of industrial spring steel that bends to connect the bridge plate and mounting plate. This essentially eliminates any metal-on-metal wear and tear, and ensures the tailpiece returns to the same position after each use.
The SuperVee uses the guitar’s stock springs and spring claw to compensate for string tension, and can be set up for floating operation with limited pull-up capability, or with the bridge flat against the guitar’s body.
The SuperVee performs very well, staying in tune even with repeated heavy use, including dive-bombing. Its feel is slightly stiffer than a standard vibrato, but very smooth, and the fine-tuners at the bridge offer enough travel to allow for drop-D tuning without having to loosen the locking nut.
As with most locking vibratos, changing a broken string (especially if you’re in a hurry) can be a bit of an ordeal. It requires two Allen wrenches (one for the nut and one for the string clamp) and also requires cutting the ball off of the string. Being able to simply lay the string into the open zigzag channels in the locking nut (instead of feeding it under a locked-down clamp) does speed things up a bit.
Overall, the SuperVee vibrato is a well-crafted, well-conceived unit that offers solid performance without having to modify your guitar (save for perhaps shimming the neck).
$349 (Stetsbar) Stets Machine Company 50 East and West Road, West Seneca, NY 14224 (866) 496-1194 www.stetsbar.com
Stetsbar T-Style
This is our second go-round with a replacement vibrato from Eric Stets’ Stetsbar company. The first happened in September ’02, when we tested their Stop Tail for Gibson-style single-cutaway guitars. The latest addition to their line is the T-Style, for (as you’d guess) single-cut Fender-style guitars.
Stets shipped the T-Style mounted on a Fender Standard Tele. Like the SuperVee (and Stetsbar’s Stop Tail), the T-Style requires no modifications to the guitar beyond a tapered shim in the neck pocket to allow for the added height of the replacement bridge assembly. Also like the Stop Tail, the T-Style uses a true linear-motion floating tune-o-matic-style bridge with micro roller bearings that allow the bridge and strings to move together.
The T-Style has as very smooth, liquid, Bigsby-like feel, and stays perfectly in tune even with heavy use. Its nicely chromed parts fit the look of the Tele and, some would argue, look like something Leo himself might have devised.
$399 (StepMax) StepMax Tremolo PO Box 952, Lockport NY 14094 (716) 439-0244 www.stepmaxtrem.com
StepMax
Keith Pate’s StepMax dual-action tremolo follows in lock step with the others here in that it does not require modification to the guitar, save for a neck shim.
The StepMax is set apart from other “dual-action”/floating vibratos (which allow the player to pull the unit’s arm up as well as push it down) is that it’s not really floating, which means the bridge can be mounted directly on the guitar’s body, which equates to better sustain. This is accomplished with a dual-action bridge that operates like a standard Fender-type system when the user pushes the arm down, moving the entire bridgeplate and block. But when the arm is pulled up, it activates a separate system that pulls all six saddles back. Step Max also incorporates an adjustable stop for the pull-up feature, which allows the user to set it at any half-step or full-step intervals.
The StepMax is constructed of high-quality milled (not cast) aircraft-grade aluminum except for the steel block, Graph Tech saddles, and stainless-steel arm. It has two arm sockets with a tension adjustment screw for positioning the arm so it feels just right.
Tuning stability is very good with the StepMax, due to the combined efforts of its high-quality parts and the fit of the bridge mechanism.
All three of these vibratos delivered on their promises, and did it well. None require modification to the instrument, though all require neck shims. After a few strums, most players will have no problem adjusting to the slightly altered playing geometry, and then set out to get their groove on, worry-free. – Phil Feser
This article originally appeared in VG’s March 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Gracie today and in 1958 with his Guild X-350. Photos courtesy Charlie Gracie, Jr.
“…as I went from London to Liverpool to Manchester to Birmingham to Scotland, in the audience were all these young kids coming up – the Stones, the Beatles, Joe Cocker, Graham Nash. Who the hell knew? They were only kids, starting out.”
For decades, Charlie Gracie was viewed as more of a footnote than a chapter in rock history, even by historians of the genre. One example is the online All Music Guide, which rather dismissively sums up his career in a mere four sentences. But with the release of the retrospective Best Of Charlie Gracie: Cameo Parkway, 1956-1958 (ABKCO) and an excellent documentary bio titled “Fabulous” airing on PBS in ’06, Gracie’s music and story will hopefully be exposed to the uninitiated. And digging a little deeper could prompt rock historians to finally give him his just due as one of the founding fathers of rock and roll.
Gracie was the first artist signed to Philadelphia’s Cameo Parkway label, and his #1 hit from 1957, “Butterfly,” bankrolled the company whose roster subsequently boasted Chubby Checker, Dee Dee Sharp, Bobby Rydell, the Dovells, the Orlons and others – with a distinctive Philly house-band sound. (Andy Williams’ cover of the song on the bigger Cadence label actually beat Charlie’s version to the top of the charts by a few weeks.)
That same year, Charlie appeared alongside Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, Frankie Avalon, and Carl Perkins in the movie Jamboree – one of the many bandwagon rock and roll revues slapped together to capitalize on the new fad. He and his trademark full-body/pushbutton Guild X-350 also appeared on “American Bandstand” and the Ed Sullivan and Alan Freed TV shows.
Most important, though, Gracie was the second American rock and roll act (after Bill Haley & His Comets) to tour England, in 1957. The audience for his concerts and TV appearances included future stars such as Graham Nash, Joe Cocker, and George Harrison. As Albert Lee recalls, “I didn’t get to see Charlie live, but in the ’50s we had a TV show in the U.K. called ‘6.5 Special’ – mostly U.K. acts, skifflers, swing, ballads, and the rare American guest. Charlie was on one show and played his huge Guild three-pickup. I remember him saying, ‘Here’s a tune we used to kick around.’ and he launched into ‘Guitar Boogie.’ I’d only been playing a matter of months and didn’t have my own guitar, so I thought it was really cool.”
Gracie, in fact, scored more hits in Britain than in the States. Paul McCartney later covered his Elvis-tinged “Fabulous,” and from those appearances he picked up another fan, Van Morrison, who personally invited him to open several of the Irish rocker’s tour dates a few years ago.
But it’s the 70-year-old’s earlier recordings that didn’t dent the charts that should compel rock historians (often revisionist, at best) to re-examine Gracie’s role in rock’s infancy. Once upon a time, it was generally accepted that Bill Haley & His Comets were the first “rock and roll” act. Their “Rock Around The Clock” was the first rock and roll record to reach #1, in 1955 (after they’d already registered a hit with their cover of Joe Turner’s “Shake, Rattle And Roll”), although they’d been mixing revved-up rhythm and blues into their cowboy repertoire for years. At some point, critics decided that rock needed a hipper cornerstone, and declared “Rocket 88” by Ike Turner sideman Jackie Brenston as “the first rock and roll song,” cut in 1951. Actually, Fats Domino’s “The Fat Man,” cut two years prior, is just as strong a candidate, and arguments could be made for Roy Brown and even earlier recordings by Louis Jordan. But Haley was doing something different, even on the 1951 cover of “Rocket 88” by his pre-Comets Saddlemen. The formula for rock and roll has always been defined as equal parts country and western and rhythm and blues, and Ike, Fats, et. al. were missing the country element supplied by Haley, and later Elvis Presley.
Gracie preparing for an appearance on British television, 1958.
But also in 1951 – the same year that Haley (based in Pennsylvania at the time) recorded material like “Rocket 88,” “Rock The Joint,” and “Rockin’ Chair On The Moon” – a 15-year-old Italian-American named Charlie Gracie cut his first single for the Cadillac label. An original appropriately titled “Boogie-Woogie Blues,” the song rocks like a hurricane. The answer to the obvious question “How many white artists were recording music like this at the time?” is “Not many.”
In 1958, Charlie had a falling out with Cameo Parkway over money. It wasn’t until a year later, during the Congressional investigation into payola, that Dick Clark divested himself of interests in several record companies, including Cameo Parkway. Gracie signed with Decca, then Roulette, but, even with his hits still resounding, found it difficult to get the airplay and TV appearances he’d previously enjoyed.
Outside the spotlight, he worked continuously on the nightclub circuit until 1979, when he was asked to tour England again. His British tours have since become an annual tradition, and this year he headlined the yearly festival in Chippenham named for Eddie Cochran, and unveiled a statue in his old friend’s honor.
Another tradition is Charlie’s summer-long stints on the Jersey Shore. “I’ve been doing it since 1957,” he says. “I worked one joint 25 years – Moore’s Inlet. It closed last year, and now I’m working right across the street at Westy’s Irish Pub. In fact, where that building stands was the first club I ever worked in, the Avalon Club. So this year will be 50 years I’ve been playing down there. We play the same stuff as in the ’50s, and are getting younger and younger people out – right along with 70-year-olds.”
You might want to check charliegracie.com before planning your next summer vacation.
Vintage Guitar: What differentiates South Philly?
Charlie Gracie: South Philly was not all, but primarily, an Italian-American neighborhood. We had Irish and Jewish and Polish and black kids, but I’d say 65 percent Italian-American. And most of the guys who came out of there and became famous were Italian-American. My parents were first-generation Americans; my grandparents came over from Sicily.
The guitar seems especially prominent in Italian families.
Most Italian-American homes always had somebody either playing accordion or guitar to get a party going. A lot of guys weren’t professionals; they worked for a living, and would pick it up and sit on the step in the summertime – it was so hot in the row houses – and sing songs in English, some in Italian.
People ask, “How come so many people became famous in that area?” I say, “To get the hell out of there.” It was a ghetto. But I grew up with a nice mixture of people. There was a lot of camaraderie and harmony in those days. Black kids used to have lunch at my house, and nobody even noticed they were a different color. We just played and had fun. We all went to the same high school – Jimmy Darren and I went to school together. The only one who didn’t attend Southern High, I think, was Bobby Rydell, because he went to Catholic school. In those days, the boys and girls went to separate schools. They didn’t go co-ed until the late ’50s, after I graduated.
What music did you hear around the house?
My mom loved country music. She was from Pittston, Pennsylvania, up in the coal mine – Scranton area. My father was born in Tampa, Florida, and came to South Philadelphia as a young boy.
We had a little record player, and mom would buy records by Hank Snow, Hank Williams, Ernest Tubb, Eddy Arnold. She liked pop music, too. My father was more into “hep” stuff, we called it in those days – Tommy Dorsey, Frank Sinatra, Louis Prima. So us kids, growing up, had the influence from the country, influence from pop and swing and boogie-woogie, and then we used to listen to black stations. Rhythm and blues was something to sneak in to listen to. They called them “race records” in those days. I grew up listening to all three facets of music, and my head was bursting, as a young musician. I more or less developed a style of my own between the three – a little bit of country, a little bit of pop/swing/boogie, and the black blues – and I guess that’s where rock and roll really came from. Like when Elvis first came out, I would consider him an absolute rockabilly singer in the beginning.
The ingredient a lot of historians always leave out of the equation is the big-band music. They define it as “country plus rhythm and blues equals rock and roll.”
To me, that’s the mistake that they make, because I think it played a real big part of it. When I do my live performances and take some leads on the guitar, I’m playing figures from the ’40s, from big-band music. I’m hearing Tommy Dorsey in my head, or Harry James, Glenn Miller.
And some of that stuff was rockin’ – like Gene Krupa.
Oh yeah, he was an icon. He put the drums on the map. I never worked with him, but I worked with guys like Louis Bellson, who played the double bass drums. I worked with Barrett Deems, who drummed with Louis Armstrong. I worked with the great New Orleans trombonist Jack Teagarden – my God, I was thrilled to death! I was prepared for whatever came to me, because I played all forms of music, and if I sat down with someone, I’d just change my style to play whatever they played.
Gracie shares a laugh with the cleaning crew of the London Hippodrome, 1957.
I never claimed to be the world’s greatest guitarist, but I held my own. Especially when it comes to rhythm; I put my right hand against anyone in the world – I don’t care who it is.
The most distinguishing element of your style is definitely that strong right hand.
I think that developed because I played alone for years without a band – just myself and the guitar. I had more or less a slap pattern, to give me some beat. If you just strum it, like a cowboy, it’s dead. I had to add that little oomph to it, and that developed the power in my right hand. I play some songs that are so quick rhythmically, some guys can’t keep up. I’m not saying that to brag; I’m just saying that’s my forté.
As far as lead, I can hold my own, but there are guys who can play lead so great I want to run over my guitar with my car [laughs]. You know where you belong in a category, from 1 to 10. So if I’m a 5, I’m tickled to death. That’s not too bad.
Did you take lessons?
Yes, from age 10, from a marvelous teacher, Anthony Panto, who was related to the great violinist Joe Venuti. He taught me the basics of music. I was a sight-reader as a kid; in fact, I played better then than I do now, as far as finesse. Once you get into rock and heavy blues, you lose a lot of the speed and finesse you would have playing jazz or pop.
But one of the things that shows through is your chord vocabulary – which is much broader than a typical rock player.
I’m glad you noticed that, because I’m playing jazz chords in rock and roll. I get bored playing just the four-chord pattern. When I work a joint and there are musicians there who are true musicians, they light up. They say, “Charlie, we hear you playing the 9th and 13th and augmented and diminished. Most people don’t even know what you’re doing. You’re keeping the good stuff alive.”
You try to be innovative. Anybody can just pick up and play G, C, D7; you can learn that in two or three months. But if you want to play a major 9th or augmented or 13th and flatted 5th and so forth, you have to have a little musical knowledge.
You cite Arthur Smith and “Guitar Boogie,” who seems to get overlooked a lot.
Oh, he was actually the first guitar music I was introduced to. Of course, I don’t play “Guitar Boogie” like he did. I speed it up, so it’s more exciting. But he was an excellent guitarist. But one guy who was like a mentor, although I never met the man, was Danny Cedrone. Great guitar player! South Philly, Italian-American boy. He became part of a group called the Esquire Boys, who had a couple of minor hits. But he did all the guitar work for the early Bill Haley stuff, including perhaps the greatest lick in rock and roll – “Rock Around The Clock.”
Danny’s grandson, Danny Vanore, has a little group of his own, The Business. They’re very good, and occasionally they ask me to come along, and they back me.
How old were you when you first recorded for Cadillac?
I was 15. It’s a funny thing. Sometimes I sit and listen to that stuff and say, “You know, for a kid that age, I didn’t play too bad.”
Gracie at age 12 outside his South Philly row house.
Not only that – you were playing something that not many people on the planet were playing. Not many white kids, at least.
It’s difficult to talk about yourself, because we all have an ego, and it comes out, although I try to control it. But at the time, when you’re doing all this stuff, you’re just a kid. Some guy calls up and says he wants to record you; my God – in those days, to get a recording contract was unheard of for a 15-year-old. So that was the first step. If you listen to the first record I cut on Cadillac, I did “Boogie-Woogie Blues,” which is a song I wrote as a kid – it’s nothing spectacular in any way – and the old Fats Waller tune, “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself A Letter.” We didn’t even have a drum on that record.
That’s also true of Bill Haley’s Essex stuff, including “Rock The Joint,” which has the exact same guitar solo that Danny Cedrone played on “Rock Around The Clock.”
It was a country band, and you didn’t have drums in country music. They were called the Saddlemen. I went to see them as a kid. My mother took me to this place called Sleepy Hollow Ranch, about 50 miles out of Philadelphia, which was a long way to go back then. It was a picnic ground, and we took our lunch. All of a sudden these guys come out in cowboy suits and cowboy hats – Bill Haley & The Saddlemen. Wow, this is wonderful. And that inspired me. When I saw that, I said, “This is what I really want to do.” You get paid to do this? I would’ve done it for nothing for 50 years.
I’d already been playing the guitar, but it was great. The steel guitar player, Billy Williamson, took most of the leads, and (pianist) Johnny Grande was playing accordion. It had that country-rock sound – although there was nothing called “rock” at the time. They used a lot of rimshots on his records, if you notice, so the backbeat really cut. And with the slap bass, it really got that thing moving.
I only met Bill Haley once. It’s a shame that he was a little older than the rest of us. He was in his 30s; we were just entering our 20s. He didn’t have the peer look. They don’t even talk about him anymore. Good or bad, he was the first. A lot of the press think he was square – “Effete snobs,” to quote Spiro Agnew. But he made the first three or four great rock and roll records; you can’t take it away from him.
The (Saddlemen) added a drummer the time I saw them, but on the early records, the slap bass took up the slack of [no] drums. It’s like my first record; the backbeat was the guitar. There was soprano saxophone – which nobody played – Bobby Haggart on bass, who had a big hit with “Big Noise From Winnetka,” a black guy named Luther Henderson on piano, and me. I think we only did two or three takes on that thing.
It might be a simple little song, but for a white Italian kid, in 1951, before any industry had sprung up around rock and roll, to be doing something called “Boogie-Woogie Blues” – that’s really a revelation.
I’m stupefied by it. Graham Prince, who had the label, heard me do it on the radio and said, “That’s what I want you to do.” He had great foresight. It’s a shame that when I had success later, he wasn’t part of it. But he gave me my first break.
At the time, you don’t think of yourself as being a trendsetter or anything. You’re just a performer. It’s only in the past 10 or 15 years that these superstars making $200,000 a night have been mentioning my name and wanting me to perform with them. I was getting ready to go down to the Shore and play a couple of weeks ago, and Van Morrison called. Hadn’t talked to him in five years. He said, “Where you going, Charlie?” “I’m getting ready to go to work, at the Shore, near Atlantic City.” He said, “I’d like you to come and do a couple of numbers with me at the Spectrum.” I said, “I can’t; I’m working. I can’t afford to lose a night just to come and sing with you” [laughs].
Gracie in 1958 with his Guild X-350 at the London Palladium.
But you did some shows with Van a few years ago.
We did the House Of Blues and Mandalay Bay, in Las Vegas and Reno, and then the Wiltern Theater in Los Angeles. We’d met a few times, and he’d pick my brains about ’50s stuff. In 2000, I took a month off to cut a new album, and one day the phone rang and it was him. He says, “I’m going to play some dates on the West Coast; I was wondering if you’d like to come and open for me.” He flew us out and put me up in the same hotel he was at – first-class 24 hours a day. Lonnie Donegan was on the show with us, too. And Van called me out to do a few numbers with him. It was a dream come true.
If I gained nothing financially in my career, at least I gained the respect of these people. It’s thrilling to know that people appreciate that people of my ilk opened the door for all these people who came later and got rich. So whatever five or 10 minutes of fame I achieve in my lifetime, I’m more thrilled that my peers appreciate me, not just the people who come to see me. Because they know I’m the real thing.
The names associated with the Cameo/Parkway records were Bernie Lowe, Kal Mann, and Dave Appel.
Kal Mann was the lyricist, and Bernie Lowe was the A&R man – he owned the company – and he was a great piano player. On “Butterfly,” Joe Scro, a great guitar player, played rhythm, and Billy Lapatta played ukulele. If you listen closely, there’s ukulele on there, and myself on rhythm, too. That’s the genius of Bernie Lowe. We got lucky with the first hit, and that bankrolled the company for all the guys who came after me.
Dave Appel was an excellent guitar player. When I started with the company, they did all the instrumental and vocal backups for me. Dave was a fine guitar player in his own right, and had a band that worked the Philadelphia area for years. I used to play a place called the Cadillac Show Bar in North Philadelphia six nights a week. When their band would come off, I’d play by myself for 20 minutes, just me and the guitar. Dave Appel & The Appeljacks were one of the bands I played opposite, also Frank Virtue & The Virtues, Billy Duke & The Dukes, and Lynn Hope, the sax player. The funny thing was, there’d be more people dancing to me than to the bands. And every once in a while they’d let me play a set or two with them. I was just a kid starting out, but look what I learned by watching. And not just the musical part of it; you’ve got to remember I worked nightclubs all my life. I worked with people like Sophie Tucker, Ted Lewis, Jimmy Durante, Myron Cohen. You become well-rounded as an entertainer. You give me an audience, a microphone, and an amplifier for my guitar, and I’ll go out and entertain an audience.
I came to a point in my career as a musician where I played things like Rachmaninoff or “Malaguena.” But when I got to a certain point in my late teens, I thought, “Nobody’s listening to this kind of stuff. I’m going to wind up being a great musician, but I’ll be playing in a parlor by myself.” At the fork in the road, you have to make a decision, and I said, “I’m going to become an entertainer, because I think I’ll survive longer that way” – and I did. I could have been a greater musician if I’d taken more of an interest in my instrument, but once you become the entertainer, you’re working every night and you don’t have time to get to heavy stuff. But I played good enough to be able to entertain. I made the right choice, though, because it kept me working all these years.
And it’s not just talent; it’s the way you project yourself, the personality, the rapport you have with people. A good performer will always survive, because people want to be entertained. I worked with Louis Prima a few times, and, my God, what a tremendous talent. He created excitement!
There’s not a lot of difference between what Louis Prima was doing and early rock and roll.
Ah, now you see. This is where it all stems from. That’s what I listened to as a kid. He was a genius. He wrote “Sing, Sing, Sing.” He personified entertainment, like Louis Armstrong.
When did you get the Guild Stratford X-350?
In 1957. I took it when I went to tour England, and had to take my own amplifier. I had a Danelectro with no reverb and just one 15″ speaker. They had to give me a transformer to plug it in on stage, because of the different current.
Now I use a Marshall cabinet with four 10s and a 300-watt Peavey head. So I’ve got plenty of balls on that sucker. Unfortunately, I can’t take it with me when I tour, so I’m stuck with whatever they have. I use an analog delay – just a little bit – and, of course, a little reverb on the amp. And once in a while I’ll use a chorus pedal for a ballad. You can’t play that constantly. Occasionally it’s nice to have a change of scenery.
But I’ve never liked playing a solidbody guitar. I’m used to the hollowbody, and to me it’s a superior sound. For lead, that’s one thing, but for rhythm I don’t think a Fender can come near it. I have two of the Guilds: the sunburst model and a blond one. And I have the first Gibson guitar I bought in 1951 that I recorded all the early Cadillac stuff on. One pickup, no cutaway. I paid $375 for that, and paid by the week – $3 a week. Before that I had a Harmony acoustic that cost 15 bucks.
I use strings that are made by Mapes Piano Company, with a .013 on top. You can go shark fishing with the strings I use! And I slur (bend) those suckers. I like the thickest strings I can get, especially the bottom E – like a Duane Eddy thing – and a wound G. I’m a heavy rhythm player, and with usually a three-piece band, the bass player and I work out a thing where we’re driving, man.
You were the first American rock and roll act to tour England after Bill Haley.
And the first solo American; he brought his own band. I did two tours, in ’57 and ’58. When I went there, they didn’t know what rock and roll was, so I played what they called the “variety circuit,” in theaters. They had song-and-dance teams, animal acts, and then I would come on. Two shows a day, 3,000 people a show, 6,000 people a day, seven days a week. And I was alone onstage, with no band; they were in the orchestra pit. They were good musicians, but they didn’t know how to play rock and roll. The first gig I played, in South Hampton, was with Ted Heath. He and Johnny Dankworth and Sid Phillips were the three guys who made it easier for me, because even though they weren’t rockers, they were excellent players. But most of the bands played for the variety theater. So I hired a drummer to tour with me, who could play the backbeat, (on counts) two and four. You talk about paying your dues! I had the amp on 10, and it was like sawing wood. I couldn’t even take a lot of leads, because I couldn’t stop playing rhythm – the whole thing would fall apart.
Unbeknownst to me, as I went from London to Liverpool to Manchester to Birmingham to Scotland, in the audience were all these young kids coming up – the Stones, the Beatles, Joe Cocker, Graham Nash. Who the hell knew? They were only kids, starting out. But seeing me inspired them like seeing Bill Haley inspired me.
When you stopped getting radio play and having hits in America, did you continue to tour Britain?
Gracie with his Guild X-350 in a publicity photo for his management company.
No, I got in a depressed mood, as you can imagine, and said, “That’s it.” I just went on making a living playing guitar and singing, from ’59 to ’79, but I always worked – five, six nights a week on the nightclub circuit. Never had a day gig. Finally, in ’79, a Canadian label reissued my early stuff, and that revived my name over in Britain. Since ’79, I’ve been going back every year – England, Germany, France, Belgium, Holland, Austria, Switzerland. Fans still want to see me there. Rock and roll is still prevalent there, more so than it is in America.
I never claimed to be superior to anyone musically or otherwise; I just do what I do. I consider myself a journeyman musician and a guy who sings a little bit – that’s all. I never had the phenomenal success that some of these people had, but I survived for 55 years, so I’ve got to have something. You can’t fake your way through for 55 years. Whatever it is, people come to see me; I entertain them for two or three hours; and they come back. To me, that’s success.
This article originally appeared in VG’s March 2007 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
