Digging through the Gov’t Mule catalog recalls a legacy of great music. More than just another jam band, the group spent the last 22 years not only mining the Southern-blues-based rock they adore, but pushing boundaries and taking risks. Guitarist Warren Haynes continues to be the band’s guiding light. For many, his top-tier finesse and fluent fretboard vocabulary would be enough to pack venues around the world. But dig deeper and you’ll hear a crafty songsmith and passionate vocalist conversant in America’s diverse musical tapestry.

Prolific, humble, and hard-working, Grammy winner and guitar/gear aficionado Haynes creates meaningful music, applying himself as an open vessel. Case in point is the band’s latest album, Revolution Come… Revolution Go. With an array of influences at his disposal and a skilled ensemble behind him, Haynes creates colorful-yet-sincere sonic portraits. Its 12 songs reflect the world around him, bearing witness to a contentious political and social climate.

On the new album, you worked with producers Don Was and Gordie Johnson. Did that result in a different approach?

Gordie and I had worked together a lot – this was the third Mule record we co-produced, along with one of my solo records. We know each other’s work habits very well, including our strengths and weaknesses. I’ve known Don for three or four years and we’ve played a lot onstage, but this is the first time we worked in the studio. It was great. He co-produced two songs with me – “Pressure Under Fire” and “Dreams & Songs.” He’s a wonderful presence in the studio and we’ve become friends.

Both guys are great at helping steer everything in the right direction. It was a pleasure all the way around.

The press release says there was a change of course while it was being recorded. What happened?

We’d been writing and rehearsing and had five days of pre-production with Gordie prior to going in the studio. We had 22 songs and were scheduled to start recording November 8, which was Election Day. We loaded in, set up mics, started getting sounds and all the tedious stuff you do the first day, and every time we’d take a break, somebody would glance at the news on TV. Nobody thought Trump could win – we figured all the talk was the normal media blowing everything out of proportion. And once we started recording, we immersed ourselves in the music. When we came out at of the end of the night, Trump was president.

It changed the tone for everything. We’d written a few political songs, but wound up, day by day, finding our way, vibe-wise. In some ways, it had a reverse affect – it made us focus on some of the positive-message stuff. There are a lot of songs that talk about everybody working together, getting out of the place we’re in now, which is the biggest divide I’ve seen in this country in my lifetime.

Were you concerned about alienating some fans via politics?

We didn’t take a hard stance; most fans know where we stand. The Allman Brothers and The Grateful Dead raised over $1 million for Obama’s campaign. We look at songs like “Stone Cold Rage” as simple observations of what’s going on. The takeaway is that no matter who wins an election, approximately half the people in this country are going to be pissed off about it because that’s where we are. I’m just observing what’s going on, and songs like “Revolution Come… Revolution Go” and, for that matter, “Stone Cold Rage,” are a bit tongue-in-cheek – a humorous look at it. It’s not intended to be visceral, but it is analyzing a pretty vitriolic situation. There are more of the songs talking about everybody coming together.

If fans were opposed to your politics, they probably wouldn’t be fans.

It’s a little odd because there’s this faction of people who don’t want celebrities to speak out about their political views. But I’d ask those people, “If somebody asked you about your political views, wouldn’t you answer the question?” I think they would.

Many music fans simply want to tune out the world and hear you sing and play guitar. They want an escape from conflict and politics.

I understand that, and I think the record is good for that, as well. It’s music first and foremost. Whatever political connotations exist are miniscule compared to the overall feeling you get while listening. Political connotations have been on every record we’ve ever done – it’s nothing new. If someone is spooked by the title, they should first listen to the music, then form an opinion.

“Sara Surrender” has a ’70s soul vibe. What went into that track?

“Sara Surrender” was the last song written for the album. I wrote it after we finished recording in Austin and had this sense that, “Maybe this is the missing piece to the puzzle.” We went to a studio in New York City and recorded it in one day. It was brand new, so we were finding our way. I played the jazzy stuff on a ’58 Gretsch jazz body that was gifted to me recently and has a really unique sound.

I love the way the drums have an Al Green feel. Danny Louis’ organ is prevalent in the mix and the bass line drives the tune, so there are times when the guitar is not even present, but it weaves in and out in a cool way. It reminds me of Curtis Mayfield, Hi Records, and some of that era of soul music.

Which guitar did you use on “Stone Cold Rage?”

I actually played a Tele for the first time on a Gov’t Mule record – a Whitfill Custom T Style. The solos are live – I really prefer to have a performance that includes playing the solo live – but I overdubbed a little piece at the end. I also played the Whitfill for the first half of “Drawn That Way,” which was cut in two pieces; the first is that Tele and the second is my ’59 Les Paul, which made an appearance on quite a few songs on the record.

“Political connotations have been on every record we’ve ever done.  If someone is spooked by the title, they should first listen to the music, then form an opinion”

Is that Les Paul new to your collection?

I’ve had it about three years, and it was well broken-in before I got it (laughs). I’ve played it a lot and it just sounds beautiful.

Is that your main guitar right now?

My signature Les Paul is probably what I play more than anything. I bounce back and forth mostly between Les Pauls, Firebirds, and 335s. I did play an SG on a couple tracks. On “Revolution Come… Revolution Go” it’s the SG tuned down a whole step, which was very bizarre. It had a huge sound doing that.

When Gordie and I went into rehearsals, we were talking about options. I think when we were writing on the bus, I had an SG tuned down, and it carried over from that. I hadn’t played SGs like that on previous records, so it was nice to get a bunch of different sounds, but I did use a lot of guitars.

What’s unique about your signature Les Paul?

It’s based on a ’59 body with a ’58 neck, with Burstbucker 1 and Burstbucker 2 pickups. It has a TonePros bridge, but the main difference between it and a normal Les Paul is the circuitry designed by Peter Miller and John Cutler, who did a lot of work for The Grateful Dead. Basically, when you engage the switch, the tone doesn’t change as you turn the volume down. On a regular Les Paul, when you turn the volume down it gets duller and duller, which is great – I get a lot of great sounds that way. But if you want all the high-end to come back, the switch gives you a lot more tone options. That’s the most obvious distinction.

What are your 335s?

I have a ’61 dot-neck I play a lot, and I have a Custom Shop natural-finish; for a new guitar, it really records well. The ones I take in the studio are the ’61 and a ’58 B.B. Special I used to play solos on High & Mighty.

There are plenty of other Gibsons in your road cases.

A lot of the stuff I’m using onstage is not only for different sounds, but different tunings. I’m doing some capo stuff these days because Gov’t Mule, over the course of a tour, will do 150 songs. Those guitars are out there for different tunings, some are capoed. It’s nice to recapture the sound of what you originally achieved. I also have a 12-string Les Paul that goes out.

Why don’t you have more Teles in your arsenal?

It’s never been my voice in the past, but I use it on three songs on the new record, so I’m going to be carrying one or two on the road. Maybe it’ll spark some experimentation. That’s always the fun part – to be inspired by a sound that’s not in your wheelhouse. Every guitar and every sound inspires you to play differently. We do three-hour shows, so while I’ll sometimes keep the same Les Paul for a long time, it really depends on the set list.

What amps are you using onstage?

Mostly my Soldano SLO-100, which has been drastically modified by Mike Soldano. I’m also using the Homestead 100-watt Red Head that’s become the replacement for my old Diaz CD-100. Peter McMahon, who makes the Homestead, is a continuation of Caesar Diaz’ stuff, so I’ve been using a lot of his stuff. Between those two amps I can get a lot of different sounds. One is kind of Fendery and one’s kind of Marshally. It’s between those and whatever guitars I’m using, and effects if the song calls for it. In the studio, I may have them working together, but live it’s either/or, never at the same time.

My effects work out of a Bob Bradshaw switching system. I can use up to three amps. In the studio, I always include a small one – in the case of the new record, an Alessandro made its way into every sound. I really like the sound of blending big amps and small amps.

Do you ever use pedals to get volume boost or gain?

Most of the distortion sounds are coming straight from the amp, and most of that is me changing pickups and turning the Volume knobs up and down. I’m constantly messing with both. I have a few things, like a Klon Centaur I take on the road, as well. I go through phases where I have a few distortion pedals I’ll try here and there, but I’m a creature of habit, too. Sometimes I’ll stay with what works. In my live rig, I have a Hughes & Kettner Rotosphere, an old Boss OC-2 Octave, a wah, and a couple different delays and tremolos.

I have a signature wah that really works good. It’s called a Wowee-Wah, and the really s is you can flip a switch so when you take your foot off, it turns off. When you put your foot on it, it turns on. You don’t have to click it. It’s great because when I’m using wah while singing, I can’t really pay attention to whether it’s on or off.

How does playing with someone like John Scofield affect the way you approach the guitar?

The first time John and I played together was in the late ’90s, when we recorded the live Sco-Mule record when Allen Woody was still alive. We rehearsed for one day, played two shows and recorded them. We wanted to put it out forever, but Woody passed away shortly after and things went another direction. We finally put out that record a couple of years ago and toured behind it.

Sco is one of my favorites. It’s inspiring to listen to all the stuff he does that’s uniquely him. One of the things that I found from the first time we played together was it caused me to play a little jazzier and him to play a little blusier, just because we’re listening to each other. I really love playing with John and I’d do it anytime I could get a chance. He’s one of the greats.

There’s a strong chemistry between the two of you.

For us, there has to be enough common ground and enough contrast to make it work. If you’re too similar, it won’t work, and if you’re too different, it won’t work. From the first time we played together, I had a blast.

Anything else Gov’t Mule fans can look forward to?

We’ll be playing festivals, staying extremely busy. It’ll be a solid year of promoting this record.

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This article originally appeared in VG September 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

In any conversation about the dawn of hard rock and metal, several bands rise up –  Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Mountain, Grand Funk Railroad, and Uriah Heep. But you simply must celebrate the mammoth contributions of Deep Purple and its notorious guitarist-in-chief, Ritchie Blackmore.

The band’s 1972 album, Machine Head, put Purp at the top of the hard-rock heap and was a global smash thanks to the hit single “Smoke on the Water” and its monster riff. About 20 years ago, Blackmore stepped away from rock and began exploring the sounds of acoustic music from the Renaissance era, but he surprised fans by putting together a new lineup of Rainbow and releasing Live in Birmingham 2016.

With Blackmore once again on the prowl and Machine Head turning 45, we asked him to divulge whatever secrets remain from the sessions.

Hidden Roots

Before the metallic crunch of Machine Head, psychedelia and blues-rock were evolving. In the latter half of the ’60s, the Yardbirds, Rolling Stones, Cream, Jeff Beck Group, Jimi Hendrix Experience, Vanilla Fudge, and Led Zep began pushing the envelope of heaviness – 1970 was watershed, with Deep Purple’s In Rock, Mountain’s “Mississippi Queen,” and Sabbath’s Paranoid. 

By this point, Blackmore had converted from a Gibson ES-335 to a Fender Stratocaster – a gift from Eric Clapton (we can see Ritchie with a Strat in photos from the Fireball sessions, September 1970). The guitarist’s blooming style traces from Les Paul to the electrifying achievements of Clapton, Beck, Greenie, Page, and (considering Blackmore’s razor-sharp triplets) perhaps, Alvin Lee of Ten Years After.

If you tally these players with the classic Strat and Marshall stack, you’ll begin to see Blackmore morph into the young guitarist who stepped up to record Machine Head. Even Queen guitarist Brian May concurs, as he noted in The Ritchie Blackmore Story documentary.

“Ritchie was already a source of mystery and wonder – nobody could play like that in those days,” May said. “It’s not just the speed – there were other people who can play fast… but they aren’t Ritchie Blackmore.”

We asked Blackmore to fill in the gaps about the many guitarists who helped shape his early style.

“Les Paul was a hero of mine,” he said. “But there were lots of country players back then that were incredible and incredibly fast – Jimmy Bryant, Chet Atkins, Cliff Gallup, Scotty Moore, Glen Campbell, Buck Owens & The Buckeroos, and others whose names I didn’t even know – I’d see them on television shows. Their style was country, mine was more rock and classical. I would improvise mostly in minor keys, whereas country music was in majors. When our management wanted us to go to America to play, I thought, ‘Why? They have so many brilliant guitar players.’ I was kind of reluctant.”

This mix of country and classical is a critical part of the Blackmore attack, but certainly there is lots of blues in there.

“I liked Peter Green with John Mayall, and saw B.B. King live, and thought he was great, even though his selection of notes was pretty limited. Johnny Winter was a brilliant player and of course, I would often play Hendrix stuff, but I always thought of Jimi not as a technician but more of a brilliant singer that could emote amazing stuff on the guitar. He would come up with riffs that nobody else would, like ‘Manic Depression,’ ‘Stone Free,’ and ‘Burning of the Midnight Lamp.’

“One of my main inspirations in blues was Shuggie Otis, the son of [R&B artist and impresario] Johnny Otis – I thought he was great, and he was only 15 years old at the time. I loved Mike Bloomfield in the Paul Butterfield Blues band, and Mick Taylor is a fine blues player. I was also influenced by English rock and roll players like Tony Harvey and Joe Moretti.”

Blackmore discussed one of his biggest influences with H.P. Newquist, of the National Guitar Museum.

“Jeff Beck is my idol. The guy gets notes from nowhere, you know? Sometimes he finds notes I just do not have on my guitar. When ‘Shapes Of Things’ came out, everybody went, ‘Oh my God! Who is that… and why is he playing this Indian stuff? It shouldn’t be allowed.’ It was just too good.”

Some Stupid with a Flare Gun

With this myriad of guitar creativity instilled in young Blackmore, he was ready to take on the world in the early ’70s. The recording of Machine Head commenced in Switzerland during December of 1971. The plan was to cut the album at the Montreux Casino, a popular concert venue. But it was not to be: a fan at a Frank Zappa & the Mothers show fired a flare gun during the show, igniting the ceiling material and causing a devastating fire. Miraculously, no one died, but the casino was heavily damaged and Purple bereft of a studio.

Using the Rolling Stones’ Mobile Studio (a.k.a. RSM, a then state-of-the-art Helios console and the outboard gear of a full recording studio housed in a commercial van), the band relocated first to a local theater, Le Pavillon, and cut the basic track for “Smoke on the Water,” but were evicted by police for playing too loudly. Finally, they found the empty Grand Hotel and set up shop.

We ended up at the Grand Hotel

It was empty, cold and bare
But with the Rolling truck Stones thing just outside
Making our music there
With a few red lights, a few old beds
We made a place to sweat…

They ran long cables from the van and used bed mattresses to deaden the sound space. Much of the recording took place in hotel rooms and corridors – hardly a glamorous recording studio – but with now-legendary engineer Martin Birch (Jeff Beck Group, Fleetwood Mac), they made it work, and the tapes speak for themselves. The resulting music had the loose, cranked-up vibe of a concert, minus the screaming fans.

“We were recording in the corridors, and the amps were put in the rooms off the corridor for separation purposes,” Blackmore recalls with characteristic brevity.

That Magical Mystery Tone

There’s a world of myth and mystery about Blackmore’s guitar tone on Machine Head. Just how did he get that woody, airy Strat sound with a perfect amount of sustain and overdrive – but not overt distortion? His lead tone on the album is sweet, midrangey, and profoundly Fenderesque, evoking Holy Grail connotations. Let’s get to the facts.

First, the crunch heard throughout Machine Head is the critical mass of Blackmore’s guitar, Roger Glover’s Rickenbacker and Fender basses, and – crucially – Jon Lord’s massively distorted Hammond organ, which he pumped through Marshall stacks (his rig was known as The Beast for good reason), and he achieved a sound not unlike a guitar’s power chord. The combined efforts created that monster Deep Purple thud so clearly heard on “Highway Star,” “Space Truckin’,” and “Smoke on the Water.” Lord’s intro to “Lazy” is emblematic of his savagely distorted Hammond.

Solidbodies on Machine Head were CBS-era with big headstocks, maple fingerboards, three-way switches, and presumably four-bolt necks. In the subsequent Rainbow years, he converted to scalloped-rosewood fingerboards and three-bolt necks. He only used the neck and bridge single-coil pickups – the middle unit screwed as low as possible so it wouldn’t interfere with his picking; he avoided the in-between second and fourth positions.

When trying to decipher his tone, one key error is to confuse Blackmore’s live rig with the studio setup. On tour, he was plugging his Strat into a 200-watt Marshall Major head and two cabinets (with another stack as a backup). The Marshalls had been modded at the factory with an added output stage, increasing the volume, and the EQs were specially voiced. Yet we also know that Blackmore was fond of Vox AC30 amps for their warm, natural, and dirty tone. In some interviews he alludes to using Vox guts hidden in a Marshall housing then slaving it to the big Marshall head, in effect using a AC30 to preamp the Major. But again, this was the stage rig. Also keep in mind that tales of Blackmore’s famed Aiwa reel-to-reel tape recorder – which he used as a preamp – appear to date from ’74 forward, long after the Grand Hotel sessions. Same with scalloped fingerboards.

We asked VG amp guru Dave Hunter about these perceptions.

“We remember those riffs from Machine Head as being huge, and convince ourselves they were recorded via some massive Marshall stack. Largely, though, it’s just that they sounded so big compared to much of what else was being recorded at the time, and because of the attitude put into them. Listening back today, they really don’t sound stack-like at all.”

After 45 years of debate and controversy, Blackmore himself helped clear the air.

“I was using a 100-watt Marshall with four 12″ speakers in the cabinet. I probably would’ve also been using the Vox at that time. They would’ve been my primary amps.”

So, he had a Vox at the Grand Hotel. Next, we put forth another million-dollar question: Did you use a treble booster?

“Yes, I used the Hornby Skewes treble booster,” he said. “It was a [tabletop] box, not a pedal.”

The Hornby Skewes used a germanium transistor in its circuit to add overdrive boost to a signal, kicking the preamp with coloration.

We posed a final guitar-tone scenario to Blackmore by asking whether he used less “distortion” than many players think.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” he said. “In those days there was no overdrive in the Marshall amps.”

At last, we can visualize Blackmore’s rig in December, 1971, as he stood in the corridors of the empty Grand Hotel. He had at least two CBS-era Strats, Marshall and Vox amps, and a Hornby Skewes treble booster. At long last, we understand how he got those glorious Machine Head tones (see sidebar).

Finally, don’t underestimate the studio gear. Purple had the Rolling Stones Mobile Studio and an array of microphones, preamps, compressors, mixer, and 2″ analog tape to capture the music. Guitarists often play mental hopscotch over recording gear, but these elements had a powerful impact.

For a bit of final studio trivia, Deep Purple hired the RSM in a gap between two other projects – Led Zeppelin’s fourth LP (IV/Zoso) and the Stones’ own Exile on Main Street. Think about that for a second.

Critical Tracks

Machine Head cooks from end to end, but guitarists remain in awe of “Highway Star” for it’s terrifically fast tempo, Bach-inspired arpeggios, and Blackmore’s proto-shred chops. This is high-speed metal and sports the double-knockout of Jon Lord’s virtuoso organ solo and a raging guitar solo. For this break, Ritchie worked out the parts in advance, overdubbing the Baroque arpeggios for brilliant technical effect. In the Blackmore documentary, Joe Satriani says, “‘Highway Star’… makes everyone who thinks he’s a guitar player need to pick up the guitar and say… “Can I really do that?’”

“Smoke on the Water,” a U.S. hit in the summer of ’73, is a feast for fans of tone and taste. The essential riff – itself reminiscent of a 1966 bossa-nova standard called “Maria Quiet” – features Blackmore plucking double-stop fourths with his fingers, not a pick. Cut at Le Pavillon, his Marshall’s tone is also ambient, telling us the cabinet was room-miked (the microphone placed away from the cab), not close-miked, to pick up reflections of the space. That gave his Strat huge sonic girth. Considering the big tone of the riff, the cavernous interior of Le Pavillon makes better sonic sense as a location than does the Grand Hotel.

Blackmore’s solo, cut later at the hotel, is a masterpiece of bluesy understatement, echo, and chunky neck-pickup voicing (a variation on Clapton’s famed “woman tone”). You have to admire the guitarist’s restraint; instead of deploying his serious picking chops, Ritchie laid back and played one of rock’s most emotive solos, a nod to his ’60s British-blues heroes. For even more fun, check out Blackmore’s isolated guitar tracks online.

“Space Truckin’” is a great example of the Blackmore/Lord/Glover triumvirate, with Ian Paice pile-driving the beat underneath. Much of the song’s tritone riff is dominated by Jon Lord’s crunchy lines on the Hammond, but you can hear Blackmore’s isolated parts online. One thing you’ll notice is Blackmore’s super-solid rhythm – his timing and groove are metronome-perfect. His solo was short, but you can hear the country influence in the quick chicken-pickin’ lines. The tone remains overdriven Strat heaven.

After the organ intro for “Lazy,” Blackmore delivered sweet blues licks and slippery runs that pay more homage to the British blues of John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, Fleetwood Mac, and Ten Years After. Note his overall volume and gain are lowered for a cleaner, airier tone. He cranks it up, but not until well after the five-minute mark and, even then the Fender’s quack is clear as a bell.

“Pictures of Home” has another fiery solo, this one featuring whammy-bar jiggles and serious string bends. As a rare treat, we also get a short bass solo from Roger Glover, adding fast upward chromatics on what sounds like his Rickenbacker 4001 Stereo. It’s rum stuff.

Still Truckin’ Forward

It’s great to realize that, even 45 years after Machine Head, the 72-year-old Blackmore is still rocking the universe with his Stratocaster and Engl amps. We asked what’s on his schedule the rest of the year.

“We will be doing four electric shows with the Rainbow lineup, then straight afterwards I’ll tour with Blackmore’s Night for our 20th anniversary tour. That’s a Renaissance folk-rock band with my wife Candace and quite a change from Rainbow. When I play electric guitar, I have to have short fingernails on my right hand. Then, after a month off, I have to grow them back to play fingerstyle; sometimes I resort to acrylics to make them stronger for playing. We’ll be putting out various recordings of the Rainbow and Blackmore’s Night lineups.”

No question, Blackmore is busier than ever. Welcome back, sir.

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Thanks to HP Newquist, Tom Guerra, Dave Hunter, Tom Mulhern, and Don Arney for their input. Lyrics to “Smoke On The Water” are copyrighted by Sony/ATV Music.

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This article originally appeared in VG September 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

There was a custom at Owen Bradley Film & Recording Studios in Nashville; artists cut vocal tracks with backing from Bradley’s crack team of session musicians including guitarists Grady Martin, Hank Garland, and Harold Bradley. The artist’s bandmates stayed home or watched from the sidelines.

The A-team was in place on May 4, 1956, when Capitol Records producer Ken Nelson came to the studio with his new signing, a kid named Gene Vincent. After hearing a dub of Vincent and his band playing an original song called “Be-Bop-A-Lula” during a performance at WCMS radio, he’d decided to break from the norm and let them do the session as a group. As Vincent’s group tore through “Race With The Devil,” Nelson and engineer Mort Thomasson heard the guitar work of Clifton Elwood Gallup – fleet-fingered intro, dazzling backing riffs, and virtuosic solo – they reportedly told the A-team, “Go on home…” With his Gretsch Duo Jet, Gallup had suitably hot-rodded Vincent’s sound.

That June, Capitol released “Woman Love” as a single by Gene Vincent and His Blue Caps, backed by “Be-Bop-A-Lula.” But it was that B-side that became an instant hit – and gave the label its answer to RCA’s Elvis Presley.

Blue Cap Beginnings

He was born June 17, 1930 in Norfolk, and began playing guitar when he was eight years old. He later worked as a maintenance man for the Norfolk County school system, then by night played in bands – Ricky and the Dixie Serenaders, the Phelps Brothers, and WCMS house band The Virginians. A fan of both Chet Atkins and Les Paul’s country and jazz playing, he brought their influences to rock and roll.

In perhaps the only interview Gallup ever granted, to Dan Forte in 1983, he talked of his early inspirations. 

“I started on electric when I was 12 or 14,” he said. “That’s been so many years ago, I don’t even remember what brand my first [guitar] was. I think I got it from Sears & Roebuck…

“There were a few guys that showed me a few chords or a lick, so to speak. Like most musicians, you listen to a lot of people – pick up a lick here, a lick there. Pretty soon you originate some kind of a style. I kind of thought Les Paul was the going thing in my younger years, and I used to listen to a lot of Atkins stuff when he first started.”

When WCMS manager “Sheriff” Tex Davis first heard Vincent – still known then by his original name, Eugene Vincent Craddock – for the station’s talent show, he heard a star in the making. Davis organized the Virginians with Gallup on guitar to play behind him, then cut the dub of “Be-Bop-A-Lula” that set things rolling with Capitol.

Gallup told Forte about his early meeting with Vincent: “He was living a couple of miles from me, out in the country. I had met him over at the radio station a few times where I staffed. I guess that’s how I came to know him. It was primarily country music, and everyone would meet at the radio station and play on Sunday afternoons. Then we cut a dub at the station. Presley had come out on Sun Records and Carl Perkins had ‘Blue Suede Shoes,’ and Capitol didn’t have a rock artist. So we sent this dub to Capitol, and it got picked out of a thousand-some tapes. That’s how it all began.”

With the success of “Be-Bop-A-Lula,” Nelson called Davis’ fledgling star and his band back to the studio. From June 24 through 27, the Blue Caps cut another 17 masters. Combined with the May 4 session, Capitol culled the tracks to fill out Vincent’s first LP, Bluejean Bop!

Duo-Jet Maestro

Bradley Film & Recording Studios was in a two-story house at 804 6th Avenue South in Nashville and the first studio on what became Music Row (Bradley’s famous Quonset Hut was later erected behind the house).

Rockabilly historian Deke Dickerson explains the studio was built in the basement, with the first floor’s flooring removed to increase space. A utility room was converted to an echo/reverb chamber.

Bradley primarily recorded country acts, but had cut a few other rockabillys including Johnny Carroll, Roy Hall, and Bobby Helms. When Johnny Horton recorded there in January ’56, he followed Bradley’s protocol in using the A-team, resulting in Grady Martin’s legendary guitar work on his sides.

For the Vincent sessions, Gallup played his ’54 Gretsch 6128 Duo Jet with DeArmond DynaSonic single-coils. The guitar had an optional fixed-arm Bigsby B3 plus a compensated aluminum bridge instead of the Melita used with the standard tailpiece.

Gallup bought the 6128, serial number 15654, from South Norfolk’s Music Center on November 8. The sales agreement listed its cost at $274.50; after trade-in and finance charges, Gallup paid 15 monthly installments of $15.20 each, and it’s important to stress that it was indeed a 1954 model. Many have speculated it was a ’55 or ’56, but Gallup’s receipt, the serial number, and the guitar’s details (location of the logo on the pickguard, the big block fretboard inlays, and more) all point to its actual vintage.

In the studio, Gallup recalls using Grady Martin’s amp for at least one unspecified session, which at the time was likely a Standel 25L15 – a 25-watter with a 15″ Lansing. However, there are photos showing Gallup plugged into a tweed TV-front Fender Pro. Otherwise, it remains unclear which amp he used on which sessions or which days, but he does recall playing dry and direct, with no effects; the sumptuous echo on the final recordings were thanks to engineer Thomasson in the control room using Bradley’s Ampex tape recorders – likely a combo of Models 300, 350, or 351.

As he explained to Forte, Gallup played using a combination of a straight pick held between his thumb and index finger and two fingerpicks on his middle and ring fingers.

“Most people don’t do that,” he said. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody do that… And I use the [vibrato] bar with my little finger.”

Hanging Up His Blue Cap

With “Be-Bop-A-Lula” climbing the charts, Vincent and the Blue Caps set off on a six-week tour with Johnny Burnette and the Rock and Roll Trio and the newly crowned “Queen of Rock and Roll,” Lillian Briggs. Vincent’s debut LP landed in August, followed by a single of “Race With The Devil” released in October.

“Most of [the songs] were worked out on the road,” Gallup told Forte. “A couple of songs I wrote with Gene. They were written one night and recorded the next day.” And for live gigs, he played that Duo Jet through a tweed Fender.

Gallup quit his day job but found life on the road “pretty tough.” At 26, he was five years older than the rest of band. Plus, he was married and his wife, Doris, had a baby on the way (Vincent was newly married, as well, to 15-year-old Ruth Ann Hand – a fact kept hidden from the public). In the autumn of ’56, Gallup resigned from the Blue Caps. His daughter, Bonnie, was born in the new year. “I’m the reason Daddy left the Blue Caps,” she told VG.

At the same time, Vincent’s star kept rising. He and the band had a cameo in the proto-rock-and-roll film The Girl Can’t Help It, starring Jayne Mansfield and including Fats Domino, Little Richard, and Eddie Cochran. In Gallup’s place, Russell Williford donned a blue cap and picked his ’52 blackguard Esquire.

For the band’s next session at Bradley’s, October 15-18, 1956, Davis lured Gallup back to play lead; Williford said Davis wanted to retain the sound from the first LP, so Williford didn’t play on the album, but continued to tour (and would later buy a ’50s Duo Jet of his own, in emulation of Gallup). The group cut another 15 masters that were whittled down to shape Vincent’s second LP, Gene Vincent and His Blue Caps, released in March ’57.

At the Blue Caps’ next session that June, at the Capitol Tower in L.A., he was replaced by Johnny Meeks.

Straight Down the Middle

Legend has it that Capitol’s Ken Nelson offered Gallup a contract of his own, but he politely turned it down. By the end of ’56, he was home in Norfolk doing maintenance work for his local school system, a job he would hold for the next three decades. But he never stopped playing guitar; he played local gigs with his band, The Four C’s, and served as house musician for a local radio station.

“Daddy was a cool, mild-mannered man,” Bonnie remembers. He was never interested in the spotlight and was shy about fame or attention connected to his songs with Vincent.

Gallup continued to use his Duo Jet for a time. He was an accomplished woodworker and electrician – he even built his own cruiser-style boat and made a new fretboard for the 6128, inlaid with his name.

In the early ’60s, Gallup sold his original 6128 to fund a double-cut Gretsch Country Gentleman. He played the Gent on the Four C’s sole album, Straight Down the Middle, released on the local Pussy Cat label. The band played a funky instrumental version of “Be-Bop-A-Lula,” covered “Girl From Ipanema,” and two Gallup originals.

Gallup was 58 when he died of a heart attack on October 9, 1988. He had played a gig that evening.

In the decades after her father’s death, Bonnie Gallup loaned his Country Gentleman to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, where it’s on show today. She remembers he built a homemade tape echo unit, likely in the late ’50s; not thinking it would ever be worth anything, she later sold it at a yard sale. The price? $1.

The Lost Gretsch

When Gretsch began researching its G6128T-CLFG Cliff Gallup Signature model introduced in 2017, Joe Carducci led the detective work.

“We found photos of Cliff during the early 4C’s period posed with his Duo Jet, name on the fretboard appearing somewhat homemade with the letters positioned between frets to simplify fabrication. As we found only the one receipt for a Duo Jet, it’s my theory Cliff owned only one guitar. Its last known location was in the Nashville area, with a childhood friend named Lowell who told us he bought the guitar from Gallup for $200 in the early ’60s and confirmed it did not have a name inlaid. My theory is Cliff removed the original fretboard and replaced it with one made in his wood shop. Eventually looking to sell the guitar, he must have figured he’d have better luck without his name on it.

“For years, the guitar was stored in a hall closet at Lowell’s home. One day, he returned from work to find a drum kit in the living room. When he confronted his son, who was living with him and didn’t have a job, the son replied he had traded ‘that old guitar’ in the closet plus a little money. Lowell kicked him out of the house and hasn’t spoken to him since.”

Gallup’s playing on Vincent’s first two LPs ensured rock-and-roll guitar would never be the same. Combining the fire and brimstone of Chuck Berry with the musical smarts of Les Paul, its influence still echoes today – even if his famous Duo Jet has disappeared for now.

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Thanks to Bonnie Creef, Joe Carducci, Morgan Brunner, Adam Bowden-Smith, along with Russell and Rusty Williforde.

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This article originally appeared in VG September 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Every noted jazz artist in the world is familiar with Vic Juris. His body of work commands serious respect and admiration from today’s music cognoscenti.

A child of the ’60s, he grew up bombarded with great music – the Beatles, Hendrix, Coltrane, Wes Montgomery, Chuck Berry’s records on Chess. He recalls its tremendous appeal and how it spurred him to pick up the guitar.

“My first guitar was a Harmony Monterey,” he said. “Then I graduated to a National electric and a Magnatone amp. At age 11, I began studying with Ed Berg, who hipped me to Barney Kessel, Jimmy Raney, Django Reinhardt, Jim Hall, and especially Johnny Smith. Ed had gotten one of the last guitars made by John D’Angelico. I’ve never heard a guitar sound like that.

“My teachers were among the best anywhere,” he added. “In addition to Ed, I was lucky to have greats like Lou Mecca, Joe Cinderella, and Pat Martino mentoring me. Even Tony Mottola lived just two blocks away.”

During a succession of garage bands and local rock gigs as a teen, a friend turned Juris onto Howard Roberts’ early Capitol albums, H.R. is a Dirty Guitar Player and Color Him Funky. 

“I bought all his records, even later stuff with his more-progressive things like Antelope Freeway and Equinox Express Elevator. And I found Hank Garland’s Jazz Winds from a New Direction, with Joe Morello and Gary Burton. I think Gary was only 16 at the time. That was a real landmark record for any aspiring jazz guitarist.”

Juris further cites Larry Coryell’s early recordings, the Beatles’ Rubber Soul, Jimi Hendrix’s Are You Experienced?, and Dynamic Duo by Wes Montgomery and Jimmy Smith as having profound impact on him. 

Juris has always made his living as a guitar player. 

“In the ’70s I learned so much from working my way up through organ trios, like Pat Martino did. In fact, Pat recommended me to Don Patterson and I played an ongoing gig with Jimmy Smith, and also worked with Wild Bill Davis.” 

In addition, he helped perpetuate the prestigious line of guitarists who worked with drummer Chico Hamilton, whose bands always featured a hot young guitarist; Howard Roberts, John Pisano, Jim Hall, Gabor Szabo, Dennis Budimir, and Larry Coryell all got their starts with Hamilton, and Juris later taught alongside him at The New School for Jazz and Contemporary Music. Today, students can avail themselves of Juris’ teaching expertise at The New School as well as at Rutgers University and CUNY Purchase. 

The Juris discography as soloist and sideman includes more than 200 recordings including sessions with Nancy Wilson, Sarah Vaughan, Mel Torme, two duet albums with Phil Woods, regular appearances with Larry Coryell, albums with James Moody and a live Carnegie Hall recording with Biréli Lagrène among many others.

“I even got to work with Dizzy Gillespie in a couple of All-Star configurations,” Juris said. “He was so wonderful to play with and a great teacher. I’m so happy I got to ask him some technical questions about his tunes.”

In addition, the guitarist routinely mines our greatest composers for his recordings. He admires compositions from everyone from the Beatles to Marvin Gaye and many more, but strongly favors the Great American Songbook old guard like Victor Young and the iconoclastic and enigmatic Alec Wilder.

“The first Alec Wilder song I remember hearing was ‘Moon and Sand’ recorded by Kenny Burrell in the ’60s on Guitar Forms. The arrangement was by Gil Evans and I thought it was the most beautiful song ever. Then I heard ‘I’ll be Around’ and later the waltz that Wes Montgomery recorded, ‘While We’re Young.’ When I record a tune, I do my homework and always think of the lyric and try to listen to several versions.”

Today, Juris is using a Roger Sadowsky semi-hollow and a Fuchs Jazz Classic amp with 12″ speaker. There’s an Earthquaker Dispatch Master for reverb and delay as well as a few Boss pedals like the Super Overdrive, Terra Echo, and DG-3 delay. Also in the arsenal is a Godin nylon-string Grand Concert and a Martin OM steel-string.

Juris works with drummer Adam Nussbaum and bassist Jay Anderson in his trio, which plays the first Sunday of each month at The 55 Bar in New York City. His solo concerts include master classes that encourage and inspire young players. He’s proof that dedication and talent can realize an extraordinary career payoff.

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This article originally appeared in VG September 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Train guitarist Luis Carlos Maldonado’s musical upbringing and skill on the fretboard has earned him cherry gigs with artists like John Waite, UFO, and Glenn Hughes. He hails from the SG school of melodic-rock swagger, yet it’s his way around a melody that made him invaluable in great bands. He’s a prolific solo artist and professional songsmith. Train’s current album, A Girl, a Bottle, a Boat, is full of memorable pop and his clever guitar hooks.

How did you develop such a wicked legato technique?

My entire family is made up of musicians; three of my four brothers studied classical guitar. We were raised in orchestra from a very early age, studying classical guitar. So, most of it came from there. You have to build these techniques so you can play Villa-Lobos and all that stuff. When you’re doing flamenco, you’re always barring the frets and always moving up and down the fretboard. The muscle memory just stayed there when I started playing pop music. Somehow, when I managed to play rock, it stayed, and I developed my own thing. As much as I wanted to sound like Paul Kossoff, I never did (laughs).

One of the main reasons I play an SG is because of Pete Townshend. I watched him on the Woodstock video, playing with the Hiwatt amps and that crazy fuzz he had going. That was a big influence – like, “Oh my God!” I’ve always loved Angus Young and Tony Iommi, too. My main guitar is a Gibson Custom Shop VOS ’64 reissue with a Vibrola and the stock Burstbucker pickups. I pair them with Hiwatts and Marshalls. They’re pretty awesome.

What was going on in your life before you joined Train?
About 11 years ago I was working with a pop artist on Columbia Records who was opening for Train. She never did sound checks, so I would sing, play Led Zeppelin, and all kinds of oddball stuff. Pat Monahan, the singer from Train came up and said, “Dude! Where did you come from!?” I told him about working with Glenn Hughes, UFO, and John Waite. He said, “Would you like to write?”

We wrote some songs and ended up recording his solo record. Over the years, I stayed with the guys even though I made an album with my band, Into The Presence. If fact, I kept playing with a lot of people including Lisa Marie Presley and Bigelf, which was a big deal. One day, Pat called and asked me to join full-time. I was like, “Cool. Let’s do it.” We stayed friends professionally and personally. Everyone in the group is like a big family. My brother, Hector, plays in the group, so it was a logical step. Pat is really into letting everybody shine. Train is full of great music and inspiration.

How did you graduate from Madison Square Bedroom to becoming a professional guitarist?
I use to do sessions for Mike Varney, at Shrapnel Records. Mike loves discovering new talent – he paved the way for Yngwie Malmsteen, Paul Gilbert, and all those guys. I moved to the Bay Area and my mother said, “Some guy named Mike is looking for you.” I wound up playing guitar for him, doing back-up vocals, and engineering. That’s how I ended up working with UFO and doing a Michael Schenker record. Mike isn’t just a great friend; he’s a mentor in many ways.

I ended up playing keyboard and guitar on a UFO tour with Uli Roth. John Waite was on that tour, and I ended up with him. Everything was very natural and organic when I met Glenn Hughes a few years later. Mike got me to that point with UFO and it just kept going. I wrote with John for eight years and wound up doing an album with Glenn and a bunch of other people. I don’t have many nightmare stories (laughs); 98 percent of my career has been very blessed and I’m glad to be doing it.

Outside of Train, what’s going on with you?
I still write with a lot of people. For me, writing is one of the things I’m blessed to do. When I first got signed, it opened a lot of doors to write with a lot of different artists. I’ll never ignore that. I want to make something that will last regardless of whom I’m working with. I’m in an awesome band with some awesome people, and I get to write with all kinds of people.

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This article originally appeared in VG September 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Bettie Serveert is still going strong, 25 years after bursting on the scene in Amsterdam at the height of alternative rock.

Palomine, its acclaimed debut, mixed fuzzy riffs and folky jangle with engaging vocals by singer/guitarist Carol van Dyk. And while most contemporaries have long since hung it up, the Betties – van Dyk, guitarist Peter Visser, bassist Herman Bunskoeke, and drummer Joppe Molenaar – continue to release well-crafted albums of melodic, punchy guitar rock. Its latest is called Damaged Good.

Did you do anything differently for Damaged Good, in terms of writing or recording?

van Dyk: Every album is new adventure, and our daily life has an impact on our songs. We don’t sit down and say, “Let’s write a song.” Sometimes, a song will write itself and all you have to do is let it happen. Peter and I had done a project with [producer] Jesse Beuker in Australia in 2009 (Me & Stupid), so when we heard he built a studio in Amsterdam, we went to visit. Shortly after, we started recording.

Which guitars did you use?

Visser: A Gibson SG 1968 with a 490 in the neck and 498 in the bridge, both now with Alnico II magnets, a Frankenstrat with great-sounding ’70s Strat-style pickups, and a pimped-out ’75 Ibanez Les Paul copy with Gibson ’57 Classic pickups, Grover tuners, and cavities filled with mahogany.

van Dyk: I played my ’99 Rickenbacker Jetglo 360, my mid-’70s Fender Starcaster, and Peter’s Dixon acoustic. For “B-Cuz,” I borrowed Peter’s SG.

Bunskoeke: My workhorse, a ’69 Fender Precision I found on a wall in a little studio. I was lucky.

What about amps?

Visser: I used a Marshall JCM 900 Dual Reverb Top with a Framus 2×12″ FR cab and a Vox AC30 reissue.

van Dyk: Mostly a Marshall JCM 900 4×12, but I also used Jesse’s Twin-Reverb.

Bunskoeke: In the studio, I plug straight into the mixing board, and live I use a Fender Bassman with an Ampeg 4×10.

And effects?

Visser: My pedalboard has a Boss Tremolo, an ’80s Ibanez Tube Screamer and Yamaha DI-01, a Zvex Fuzz Probe, DigiTech Whammy 5, Ernie Ball Volume Pedal, Boss Tuner, Boss RE-20 echo, Boss Digital Delay, and a Line 6 Verbzilla.

van Dyk: I don’t use much… mostly the Marshall’s distortion channel and a couple pedals Jesse had lying around. Live, I never use effects because as a rhythm player, I don’t really need them. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been a big fan of Mick Ronson.

Bunskoeke: I use a Tech 21 SansAmp, an Electro-Harmonix Bass Preacher compressor, and a tube radio for rough edges.

One of the highlights is your duet with singer Peter te Bos on “Lovesick.” How’d that come about?

van Dyk: We’ve known Peter since the late ’80s, and in the early ’90s we shared practice space with his band. While recording “Love Sick,” we lowered the pitch of one of my backing-vocal tracks, and we said, “It sounds like Peter te Bos!” So, we called him, and we’re very honored he did the duet.

“Digital Sin (Nr 7)” is another highlight, but it’s a bit out-there.

Peter: Joppe and I were jamming a lot, and we recorded all of that. It sounded like an abstract piece of prog-rock until Carol added vocals and shaped the chord structure.

van Dyk: I totally didn’t get Peter and Joppe’s idea. I’ve never been good at jamming, but I like writing songs. So I listened, then asked, “What’s the beginning, what’s the middle?” At home, I’d recorded a rough demo of “Love Sick” and there’s a specific melody I play in the bridges that’s basically the same as when the first verse starts in “Digital Sin.” Peter and Joppe mainly wrote the first half, and I added the last half!

What’s the vintage-guitar scene like in Amsterdam?

Visser: There are, relatively, a lot of vintage shops in Holland. In Amsterdam, there are three used-gear shops I visit on a regular basis – but not too often because the urge to buy might get the better of me!

Are you planning to tour the U.S.?

van Dyk: We’d love to, but we have day jobs and pay for everything ourselves, so won’t be able. Never say never, but any foreign artist/band needs a work permit, which is expensive and takes about five months to get. And if you get denied, you don’t get your money back.

Twenty-five years together is a huge deal for a band. How does it feel?

van Dyk: We’re really grateful there’s still an audience that wants to hear us play, because at the end of the day, they decide whether we can tour! The fact that Peter, Herman, and I have been close friends for more that 30 years is probably the main reason we’re still together, because we’re family. A dysfunctional family, but still, a family.

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This article originally appeared in VG September 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.