Prices: $5,409 to $5,998 (list), $3,849 to $4,249 (street) Info: gibson.com
Take a quick glance at the Gibson Memphis ES-275 and you might think this is a venerable Gibson from decades past – except it’s a brand-new model. Crafted at the guitar maker’s Memphis facility, this hollowbody cleverly merges ideas from the company’s hallowed past into a fresh and interesting thinline animal.
Like the L-5 archtop, this box has a rounded Venetian cutaway, but sports a body that’s just 2″ thick for comfort and fretboard access. The neck has Gibson’s classic 24.75″ scale and a full-feeling and extremely comfortable profile called a Rounded C. The “rolled” fingerboard binding is meant to simulate the edges of a guitar that’s been played for years, while a tubeless Historic truss rod provides added sustain. Most folks will key in on the ES-275’s tone, playability, and (before they even pick it up) looks. That includes the Richlite fingerboard (with 12″ radius) and rich nitro finishes.
Two test models arrived in Gibson’s Faded Cherry and flamed-maple Dark Vintage Natural (there’s also the vintage-looking Montreux Burst).
The ES-275’s truly hollow body is a laminate of maple and poplar with a set mahogany neck that joins the body at the sixteenth fret. The eighteenth fret is reached with ease. The more utilitarian Faded Cherry axe had a black pickguard and knobs with a three-ply binding, nickel hardware, split-parallelogram inlays (like an ES-345), trapeze tailpiece, and a plain black headstock featuring the Gibson crown inlay. The Natural had a tortoiseshell guard, gold vintage knobs, gold hardware, triple binding, and elegant accoutrements more like a Les Paul Custom – notably mother-of-pearl block inlays and fancier headstock details and tailpiece.
For electronics, both boxes featured two MHS humbuckers with Gibson’s standard dual Tone and Volume controls (using CTS 500k pots), and the three-way toggle located on the upper bout. The MHS ’buckers are purported to sound like vintage PAFs and, no doubt, they’re very good. Last, look for a bone nut, Kluson tulip tuners, and titanium saddles fixed to a traditional ABR-1 Tune-O-Matic bridge.
Plugged into tube and solid-state amps, both ES-275s were spry performers. It would be a disservice to say these are merely jazz or blues instruments. Honestly, they could cover most of what you’re probably looking for, from sparkling clean to raunchy honky-tonk guitar. Sure, dial in all sorts of jazz sounds with the tone knob down and neck pickup on – or pop it to the middle or bridge for hot blues, roots-rock, or country pickin’. The guitars arrived set up with lighter strings, making Ted Nugent-meets-Byrdland crunch quite possible as well.
One thing plainly evident was how bright, warm, and clear the MHS humbuckers were. These pickups verily sparkled, making each note pop. Another signal of fine construction and design was how big the high B and E strings sounded, even with the light-gauge strings. Overall, the ES-275s from Gibson Memphis are extremely well built instruments, from tailpin to headstock.
Indeed, the Gibson Memphis ES-275 is a winning combination of past designs forged into a compelling new look. Even if you blink at the expense, the street prices are actually competitive with vintage and more recent Gibson Byrdlands, making the concern moot. You might be able to buy a cheaper thinbody single-cut, but the ES-275 is a real-deal Gibson, full of history, style, craftsmanship, and modernity. That’s something you simply can’t duplicate.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Whether it’s due to shrinking pedalboard real estate, shrinking discretionary budgets, or both, stompboxes that serve more than one function never fail to pique interest. Unfortunately, a lot of these knob-, switch-, toggle-, and LED-adorned pedals look like they might require a jet pilot’s license to operate. Not so these two offerings from Radial Tonebone.
Incredibly easy to use, the Shotgun drives up to four amps at once without the hum and buzz that sometimes occur via ground loops in the signal chain. It can also be a stereo-imaging device if a stereo signal is the initial input source, allowing the user to power up to two amps on both the left and right channels.
With three of its four outputs running to a ’65 Vox AC30, a ’66 Fender Vibrolux Reverb, and a Colby dtb50, the Shotgun seemed to introduce no new noise to the signal chain, and fiddling with the Lift and 180° switches got all three amps in phase, making them louder while eliminating ground loops.
In addition, the Shotgun can be a L/R splitter with a stereo chorus. When the two outputs of a stereo pedal are sent to the Shotgun, it automatically splits the outputs into two right and two left: Input 1 is routed to Outputs 1 and 2; Input 2 goes to 3 and 4.
Like the Shotgun, the Mix-Blender is a 9-volt-powered multifunctional tool designed to open a range of tonal possibilities, serving both as a mini-mixer and an effects loop. It should prove especially useful to any guitarist gigging with multiple guitars with different outputs. With the Vox AC30, a very input-sensitive amp, an R9 reissue Les Paul with high-output pickups, and a 1963 Strat with stock pickups, the Mix-Blender achieved consistent volumes from the amp when the Strat’s Level knob was at 1 o’clock and the Les Paul’s was dialed down to about 9 o’clock.
As an effects loop controller, the Mix-Blender successfully blended appropriate levels of chorus and delay into the original dry signal. And with the Mix-Blender as an effects loop controller, the original signal never thinned out. In fact, it made it stronger by adding a layer of the wet effect to the signal path.
Easy to use, the Shotgun and Mix-Blender are solid Canadian-built pedals that expand tonal possibilities and offer multiple functions. Think of them as Swiss Army stompbooxes for your signal chain.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Leave it to Mike Beigel to create a masterpiece of a stompbox… again.
The Mu-FX Boostron 3 is three pedals in one. But it’s also so much more.
Sure, you can buy: all-in-one multi-effects pedals or digital microprocessor “magic boxes” with hundreds of modeled voices. Be prepared, though. Their complexity often causes your head to spin while the programming functions wear out your fingertips. And they usually do too much – while not doing any of it quite right.
Beigel’s Boostron 3 is carefully thought out to be the nexus of your pedal array. And you may just find it’s all you really need.
To back up a minute, in case you weren’t paying attention in guitar school, circa 1972, Mr. Beigel was one of the brains behind Musitronics Corporation. He was the creator of the famed Mu-tron II, the brilliant funk-in-a-box pedal that showed the world we needed an envelope filter when we didn’t even know what one was. He followed that with the Mu-tron Octave Divider and Bi-Phase, all beloved and glamorously expensive today.
By ’78, however, Musitronics was history. In 2012, Beigel sparked Mu-FX to build new and improved versions of his classics that still boasted the same DNA and musical mojo. The Boostron 3 is his latest, with assistance from musician and computer scientist Rand Anderson. And it’s unique in not being based on a vintage Mu-tron effect. Well, at least that’s mostly true.
The Boostron 3 shares the handsome good looks of old Mu-tron pedals: a distinctly ’70s, first-man-on-the-moon fashion sense combined with a vast range of knobs, switches, and controls that make you feel like you’re driving that spaceship.
The box combines three gain stages, each based on a vintage effect, and they do a great job of playing well together.
The first gain stage is a boost based on the ’70s Alembic Stratoblaster. Ring a bell? It was a preamp that you installed in your Strat to give the single-coils some needed oomph on the low and high ends. Here, it’s controlled by a toggle switch. The boost is so good, you won’t be blamed for leaving it on all the time.
Stage 2 is based on the Dan Armstrong Orange Squeezer compressor, a classic guitar-mounted mini unit that was conceived and built by Musitronics in 1976-78 – hence the promised connection to the Mutron legacy. If you don’t know this famous compression circuit by name, just think of the sound of Dire Straits, Steely Dan, and the Doobie Brother.
The final stage provides distortion à la the old Pro Co RAT LM308 op-amp pedal, which made its underground debut in ’78 before becoming hot stuff in the 1980s. The distortion ranges from the mellow blues tone of a Tube Screamer to a more distinct, sharp-toothed clip and on to no-holds-barred, full-throttle, all-out fuzz.
There’s more. While these three stages provide most of what you need most of the time, Beigel planned the unit to also play well with others, incorporating an FX Send jack that allows you to plug in an effects loop. Differing from an amp’s effects loop, this is ideal for vintage effects that could use the helping hand up of a little boost. Plus, the return is wired into the circuit before the compressor stage, so you can tame any unruly, hot-sounding vintage box.
Finally, the Mu-FX is handmade in the USA. And it’s rock-solid, high-quality, and ready for decades of music-making.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Given that Mario Martin credits his guitar-building education to a stint at the Fender Custom Shop, it’s no surprise that his Serpentine is a working player’s instrument: comfortable, light, and versatile, with quality workmanship and an inviting neck. It also explains why he’s inspired by Fender body shapes of old, like the Duo-Sonic.
Imagine the surprise, then, to find the Serpentine is a closer cousin to the Gibson SG, with its lightweight mahogany body, rosewood fingerboard, and solid fistful of neck. The Serpentine reviewed even featured a wine-red Heritage Cherry finish (very close to the finishes on SGs seen in the hands of Angus Young, Derek Trucks, and others). A three-ply black-white-black pickguard and double cutaways completed the connection. The shape does remain distinct, with asymmetrical cutaways and a slightly offset lower bout, plus a very Fender-ish six-on-a-side headstock.
More to the point, when overdriven, the Serpentine delivers that revved-engine tone of an SG. The Serpentine is at its best throttling a tube amp, which fully reveals its big sweet spot in the low midrange – there’s a lot of body and overtone in there. Even with the pickup selector thrown to the bridge, single-note lines are thick and chewy, and crunched chords have depth and darkness. That’s due in part to the resonance of the lightweight string-through body (the whole guitar weighs just six pounds, ten ounces) and a well-built pocket for the bolt-on neck. You can feel in both hands how well the body and neck resonate together.
Credit is also due to the Lollar Mini-Humbuckers. Lollar describes these neck (resistance 6.6k) and bridge (7.2k) minis as “slightly brighter and tighter than a full-size humbucker,” and they do manage a nice balance of presence and punch. Those qualities pay off in neck position, too, where overdriven chords hang together compactly rather than getting floppy and loose. Played clean, in the neck position the tone can be surprisingly soft and full. Mid position is balanced and mild-mannered, and the bridge begs for snarl and twang.
The scale length is 24.75″ (again, like a Gibson), and the neck is consistent and comfy. The tuners and hardtail bridge by Gotoh are set in chrome, as are the pickup covers.
Like all Mario instruments, the Serpentine is fully customizable. Change up the body woods, order a single-pickup version, go with TV Jones Power’Trons, specify a neck profile, choose a color, and even decide between a one- or two-piece body. The Serpentine may be Mario’s flagship instrument, but you’re invited to make it your own.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Sometimes admired, often maligned, the cult classic Guild S-200 T-Bird has enjoyed a rebirth in the hands of Black Keys guitarist Dan Auerbach, whose use of a vintage S-200 caused some to ask, “What the heck is that?” Thanks to Guild’s continued campaign of Korean-made vintage reissues begun a few years back, the S-200, once a favored guitar of Muddy Waters and the Lovin’ Spoonful’s Zal Yanovsky, is once again readily available to the masses.
Other manufacturers have offered lookalike S-200 type guitars over the years, but this new Guild model is the first to offer an identical re-creation of the Jaguar-like circuitry featured on the original S-200 back in the day. The selector switch on the S-200’s smaller oblong plate selects between Mode 1 and Mode 2. Mode 1 engages the neck pickup only and is controlled by the smaller Volume and Tone knobs. This mode is well suited for straight rhythm playing.
Mode 2 gives the player more versatility with the neck and bridge pickup. The optional white low-cut tone capacitor adds or removes treble. The black Neck and Bridge switches on the larger oblong plate activate – surprise – the neck and bridge pickups. The larger Guild-brand Volume and Tone top hats serve Mode 2.
Guild thoughtfully provides a manual with detailed diagrams explaining the various switching options. They even printed the names of the various controls on the removable clear plastic film that covers the pickguard, a most welcome feature for those of us who are a bit challenged in this area. Guitarists should spend time getting used to the S-200’s circuitry before gigging it, but once familiar, the electronics make perfect sense. Clearly, this is no one-trick tone pony.
On initial inspection, the sample S-200 exhibited flawless fit and finish and felt solidly built and certainly able to withstand the rigors of gigging. Both body and neck are mahogany. Finish choices are black and three-color Antique Burst.
The guitar is well-balanced sitting or standing, with no neck dive, and the chamfered body cuts on top and back make it extremely comfortable to hold. Some may look with suspicion at the Grover open-back tuners, but they kept the guitar in tune during our tests. Hard chording and bends were no problem, but after some mild dive-bombing of the Hagstrom-style trem, retuning was necessary. The neck is a meaty C shape, which should appeal to a broad spectrum of guitarists, and the rosewood fingerboard features 22 frets with a distinctive asymmetrical headstock.
Plugged in, the S-200, with its two LB-1 Little Bucker pickups proved its versatility, producing sounds suitable for country twang, blues and roots rock, funk, surf and jazz, and even overdriven grind. The LB-1s easily handled anything thrown at them, and never sounded harsh or muffled.
The Guild S-200 T-Bird reissue thankfully lacks one curious feature of the original – the foldout stand in the back. It wasn’t a very good idea in the first place, and it probably resulted in more than a few spills and perhaps even a broken headstock or two.
The Guild S-200 T-Bird does come with a nicely padded gig bag and is a real winner in all respects. It will satisfy guitarists looking to extricate themselves from the “same old-same old.”
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Creating “one-off” custom instruments has always been problematic for companies designed to manufacture in any sort of quantity. In a factory environment, where costs are based on producing large numbers of identical instruments, building a one-off presents a particular challenge.
The largest modern manufacturers address the issue by creating “custom shop” departments that do not directly affect labor costs on the main production lines. Restricting the number of workers in these divisions helps control expenses, but they nonetheless operate on a bubble because overhead is measured directly against the amount of goodwill they produce. In the 20th century, large manufacturers typically solved these issues by creating custom instruments based on existing models, often with simple modifications like finish, change in trim level or other minor alterations.
Gibson, in particular, has a long history of building unique instruments for musicians. Insight can be gained from a 1940 letter written by Gibson employee Julius Bellson in answering a request for a special L-12 with a blond finish.
“Since the first of the year, we have discontinued the practice of making any special instruments,” Bellson wrote. “In checking our cost last year, we were amazed at the amount of time, effort, and excess cost this extra work entailed.”
Clearly, the policy did not remain in effect, as Gibson continued to build one-offs after 1940, but it does demonstrate the struggle between the company’s accounting and public relations departments!
The guitar here is one such instrument. Built for the Ganus Brothers and described on its label as “L-3 Special.”
The Ganus family, of Birmingham, Alabama, was involved in gospel and country music. In the ’20s, brothers Walter, Stancel, and Alva Floyd Ganus (along with another member) sang in the Birmingham area as the Ganus Brothers Quartette. Walter was part-owner of the A.J. Showalter Company, then in 1914 started his own music publishing company. In ’28, a younger Ganus Quartet came along made up of four of Walter’s sons – Claude, Clyde, Clarence, and Cecil. Each was proficient with several instruments, and they toured as performers while also conducting singing schools throughout the southeast, instructing vocal and instrumental skills. Their concerts included vocal, instrumental, and comedy songs.
The younger quartet was also based in Birmingham. They sold songbooks from their family’s music publishing company, and they had their own line of musical instruments. W.P. Ganus often accompanied his sons at the schools and concerts at the piano. In the early years they were sometimes called the W.P. Ganus Quartet or the Ganus Brothers Junior Quartet. The quartet was billed in the late ’30s as being “recording artists and radio singers.” A 1939 article stated they were “famous in 28 states for their talent as singers and entertainers…,” and “They are one of the few groups of musicians who offer a general variety of entertainment featuring music produced by electricity, novelties and many kinds of instruments. One of the special features will be music from a $1,050 accordion made in their own factory in Birmingham.”
The L-3 Special built for the Ganus Brothers is a good example of a custom instrument created in a mass-production environment by making basic changes. The factory order number indicates it was ordered in October of 1930 and the serial number shows it shipped in November. While this may seem like quick turnaround, there are other documented examples of pre-war custom Gibsons created in the same time-frame. One advantage of limiting custom work to simple modifications of existing models is that it can be accomplished quickly.
Some of the simple variations in the Ganus Brothers L-3 include star-shaped mother-of-pearl fingerboard inlays (rather than dots) and an oversize Florentine-style peghead shape with inlaid script pearl Gibson logo and “Ganus Bros Special” in pearl. The altered peghead shape was created from a template for the K-4 and K-5 mando-cello and the mother-of-pearl inlays required only a call to Gibson’s pearl subcontractor, Aumann Brothers, in Detroit. The only real customization was a modification of the body depth to 41/2″.
In other respects, the instrument conforms to model specs of the period, with a 131/2″ body, carved spruce top with oval soundhole, birch back and sides, mahogany neck, ebony fingerboard, and adjustable-height bridge, elevated tortoiseshell-grain pickguard, trapeze tailpiece, three-on-a-strip tuners, and nickel-plated hardware. Typical of an L-3, it has a hand-rubbed sunburst stain finish on the top, but unlike the standard uniform red-mahogany stain on the back and sides, the Ganus Brothers Special has sunburst finish on the back and sides.
Overall the guitar is in fine structural and cosmetic condition after surviving almost nine decades of use. The scroll on the treble side of the peghead has been re-glued – a common repair on Gibsons with the Florentine scroll peghead. The back seam at the end block has also been re-glued.
The Ganus Quartet disbanded at the beginning of World War II, and the brothers went their separate ways. Several continued in the music business as teachers, music-store operators, performers, and songwriters. Clarence P. Ganus (born 1910) later penned the Little Jimmy Dickens hit “Take an Old Cold Tater and Wait.”
Gibson records show another L-3 Special – with a serial number consecutive to this one. The instrument was returned to the factory for repair and on May 13, 1936, was shipped back to Mr. H. Baird c/o E.E. Forbes & Son Piano Company of Birmingham, Alabama, in a #410 case. While its whereabouts are unknown, it suggests the Ganus Brothers ordered more than one, or that Gibson required more than one be built, as a cost-cutting measure. Whichever the case, at least one more “Ganus Brothers Special L-3” may be out there.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
As the 1950s drew to a close, Gibson was locked in a heated battle with Fender for a share of the high-end solidbody-guitar market. But there was one example where the staid company from Kalamazoo managed a definite one-up.
The late Benjamin Orr with his modified EB-6 in a previously unpublished image from the photo sessions for the Cars’ 1980 album, Panorama. Photo by Paul McAlpine.
When introduced in late 1959 (for the 1960 model year), the EB-6 was the bass sibling of Gibson’s groundbreaking semi-hollow thinline ES-335. Sporting six strings, a solitary pickup, and a 301/2″ scale, it was tuned an octave below a regular guitar – a true bass guitar. Though it wasn’t the first electric bass guitar (that distinction went to Danelectro) it was fittingly more elegant than its predecessors.
By late ’61, Gibson basses were undergoing drastic change as the company introduced the four-string/two-pickup solidbody EB-3 in the new SG body style. The single-pickup EB-0 also acquired the new silhouette, while the EB-6 was relegated to a small box on a page in the catalog, sans photo, and described as “…similar in design to the ES-335TD.”
An interesting ’64. The control cavity now hosts the input jack.
The following year, though, brought major changes for the EB-6. For ’62, it was transformed into a two-pickup with the SG body and boosted by catalog hype touting it as, “A new and exciting treat for bass players.” Displayed in the ’63 catalog beside the EB-3, they shared dimensions (12¾" wide, 16" long, 15/16" deep) and scale (30½"), construction features (mahogany body, one-piece mahogany neck, rosewood fretboard with 20 frets) and cosmetic items such as the “crown” logo on the headstock. On both, the neck joined the body at the 17th fret, there were hand rests, slide-up mutes beneath the one-piece bridge/tailpiece, and the only listed finish option was Cherry. The EB-6 joined the crowd with large-paddled Kluson tuners.
Electronics underscored the EB-6’s status as a “bass guitar” – two of Gibson’s humbucking guitar pickups, separate Volume and Tone controls for each, and a three-way toggle selector, just like the SG. While the EB-3 also had separate Volume and Tone controls, its pickups were controlled by a four-position rotary switch.
The EB-6 was discontinued in ’66. Like the original thinline, solidbody versions are rare, and the two shown here have unique attributes.
Ben Orr’s EB-6: Willie G. Moseley. Instrument courtesy of Jeff Carlisi. ’64 EB-6 courtesy of Mike Gutierrez.
The customized white bass has been seen by millions of music fans. It’s from the estate of Benjamin Orr (1947-2000), who brandished it in a photo seen in the Cars’ platinum-selling album Panorama. Refinished and with a mirrored pickguard, it also has a non-original black toggle-surround and rosewood finger rest.
Photographer Paul McAlpine remembered the sessions employing all five members of the Cars – including keyboard player Greg Hawkes and drummer David Robinson – holding cool electric guitars.
“The guitars used on the shoot were favorites of each member,” McAlpine recounted. “We also shot Greg and David holding an electronic mini-keyboard and a drum, but went with guitar images in the final selection. The background was built especially for the shoot, in their rehearsal room, and Greg supplied background music each day. David was art director for the project.”
After Panorama, Orr continued to modify the EB-6, eventually giving it gold Grover Imperial tuners, gold pickup covers, and gold knobs. He apparently had the tailpiece plated gold, as well.
The other featured EB-6 has a 1964 serial number (157214) and resembles the instrument in the ’63 catalog. Its potentiometers date from mid ’65 and the “Custom” embossing on its truss rod cover, block fret markers, and gold knobs are indicative of custom-order Gibson basses of the era. Like Orr’s EB-6, it’s missing a mute – if it ever had one – and its most curious facet is the relocated instrument jack, moved from the top reportedly due to a crack at the original location (a pearloid plug covers the hole near the controls) and the input is now on the rear control-plate cover. How much of the dark sunburst EB-6 is original versus what’s been modified, refurbished, or refinished (factory or elsewhere) can make for interesting speculation, but whatever was done when and where, it was a professional undertaking.
Gibson’s EB-6 was an interesting, if unsuccessful, model. Both versions were well-crafted, and celebrity associations such as Orr’s, or non-standard instruments, are part of the intrigue of the vintage-instrument phenomenon.
Special thanks to Steve “The Surfin’ Librarian” Soest.
The EB-3 and EB-6 in the 1963 Gibson catalog. Note variations in the controls. Gibson catalog image courtesy of Steve Brown.
This article originally appeared in VG January 2017 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Guitarist Eddy “The Chief” Clearwater might be a classic example of the ancient axiom. A Windy City resident for over 50 years, he built a reputation working the interstate club circuit, playing mostly cover tunes, including blues for African-American audiences and Chuck-Berry-inspired rock and roll for suburban white kids.
Born Eddy Harrington in 1935, Clearwater has been exciting blues audiences worldwide for decades. His albums on Rooster Blues, Delmark, Evidence, Blind Pig, several European labels, and Bullseye Blues and Jazz have sold respectably. After building strong followings in the Chicago urban and suburban area and overseas (where many American blues musicians find greater acceptance and success), Clearwater established himself as a world-class blues guitarist in his own homeland.
And Clearwater recently joined the ranks of B.B. King and Buddy Guy by opening a restaurant/club in Chicago called Eddy Clearwater’s Reservation Blues.
With success finally and firmly in hand, we sat with Clearwater while he reminisced about his career, equipment, and his feelings and experiences on his influences, the music business, showmanship, and why “older is better.”
Vintage Guitar: You listened to many kinds of music in your early years, including Delta blues, rockabilly, country, and R&B. Eddy “The Chief” Clearwater: Oh yes, I sure did. I listened to it all, and I managed to find something in all of it that I liked.
For instance?
In rockabilly and country, I liked Chet Atkins a lot, and people like Red Foley and Johnny Cash. And I liked the Stray Cats, too. Brian Setzer is a great player. I also listened to Scotty Moore, with Elvis Presley and with the Bill Black Combo.
Who were some of the blues artists you listened to early on?
Lightnin’ Hopkins, Elmore James, John Lee Hooker, and many others. They were all an influence on my playing before I got to Chicago.
Clearwater with Carlos Santana.
People might be surprised to learn that African-Americans have been listening to and reinterpreting country music for decades. When I listen to your recordings, it’s obvious you’ve shaped all those influential music forms into your own sound.
It’s very true that blacks have been listening to white country music for years. Some younger people are surprised that I play rock and roll, but that’s a natural part of my style. I’ve had some young people ask me if I listen to Jimi Hendrix. Are they kidding? I love Jimi Hendrix!
Like many blues guitarists, you spent a lot of time playing gospel music after your family moved from Mississippi to Alabama…
Yes, I did. I played with the Five Blind Boys Of Alabama, the Memphis Soul Stirrers, the Norfleet Brothers, and others. I wasn’t their full-time guitarist, but I did fill-in work with all of them. It was great experience, because so much of blues and R&B comes straight from gospel music. It was good training.
You came to Chicago from Alabama in 1950, at the age of 15, settled on the West Side of town, and made friends with Magic Sam Maghett. How did you meet Sam, and what was he like?
Meeting Magic Sam was one of the great experiences of my life. It turned my whole life around. I first heard him on the radio. There was a club right near my house called the Blue Flame Lounge and I heard the radio disc jockey announcing “Magic Sam at the Blue Flame Lounge.” I said, “That’s right near my house, I’m going.” I got there early, got myself a ringside seat. He played the first show, and he was great.
Toward the end of the first set, he broke an E string, and asked over the microphone, “Does anyone have a guitar string?” He walked offstage and I went over to him and said, “Do you need a string?” He said, “Do you have one?” I told him I did, ran home, and brought him two E strings, because I had spares. He said, “Oh, thank you very much!”
We became friends, and jammed a lot together. He used to borrow my red Gibson ES-335 when he played the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago.
Did he influence your playing?
Definitely. He was just a great musician and a very down to earth person.
He had such a unique style. He played with that tremolo sound and used some echo on his amp, and played a lot of minor-key blues, like Otis Rush. I love minor-key stuff, and I’m also a big fan of Otis Rush. Otis played on one of my albums.
And with Duke Robillard and John Mayall.
What was the Chicago blues scene of the ’50s and ’60s like? Was it competitive?
That was the great era for Chicago blues. It was very competitive, but in a real fun way. Every Sunday there’d be jam sessions in different areas of the city. And wherever the jams were, the musicians would show up and call it a “haircutting session.” They’d show up to cut hair (laughs)! When everybody left after the session was over, we’d say to each other, “I’ll see you next week, and I’m gonna’ cut your hair!”
A Discography
Reservation Blues, Bullseye Blues & Jazz, 2000
Cool Blues Walk, Bullseye Blues & Jazz, 1998
Mean Case Of The Blues, Bullseye Blues & Jazz, 1997
Boogie My Blues Away, Delmark Records, 1996
The Chief (reissue of 1980 LP), Rooster Blues, 1994
Help Yourself, Blind Pig, 1992
Live At The Kingston Mines, (Reissue of vinyl 1978 LP), Fan Club, 1992
2 x 9, (reissue of 1979 LP on Charly Records), Fan Club, 1991
A Real Good Time – Live!, Rooster Blues, 1990
Blues Hangout, Evidence, 1989
Flimdoozie, Rooster Blues, 1986
Eddy Clearwater & Carey Bell, Wolf/Austria, 1980
I Don’t Give A Damn If Whites Buy It, Red Lightnin’/UK, 1977
Black Night, MCM/France, 1976
Compilations:
New Blues Hits, Bullseye Blues & Jazz, 1997
Essential Chicago Blues, House Of Blues, 1997
Sweet Home Blues Chicago, Blue Chicago, 1996
Chicago Blues Session, Vol. 23, Wolf/Austria, 1990
What were some of the clubs?
Kirsky’s Lounge, Lee’s Lounge, the L&A Club, the 1815 Club – which used to be known as Mel’s Hideaway. That’s where Freddie King got the title “Hideaway.” On the South Side, there was the 708 Club, which is the first place I saw Muddy Waters. That was a very popular place.
Howlin’ Wolf used to play there… Junior Wells, Buddy Guy. There was the Four Aces Club. All those places are gone now. I once took a journalist on a tour of the West Side and South Side to show him where all the old clubs were.
You first heard a first Chuck Berry record in 1957, and Chuck has been a major influence on you. That’s a different approach for a Chicago blues player. What was it about Chuck’s music that turned you on?
I could hear country music, blues, and what we now call rock and roll in it. All these different elements were there, and I thought it was so neatly put together. Very simplified, but very effective in the way it sounded. I couldn’t help but grab onto it, because it was like nothing I’d ever heard before. He was playing uptempo, but it had blues changes and a country flavor. And the way he wrote lyrics about teenage things like cars and school… it was a total package. Plus his diction, the way he pronounced his words, was like a white country artist.
Chuck’s idea was to appeal to the white kids, but still make music he could play in the neighborhood. And that’s exactly what he did. You played on the same bill as Chuck once, didn’t you?
Oh, yeah (laughs)! That was in Oak Park, Illinois, in 1968. People were yelling “Play some Chuck Berry!” and I was shy about it, but they kept egging me on. I wouldn’t think of singing one of his songs in front of him… I’m going, “No, no, no!” But the more I tried to get ’em to shut up, the more they kept yelling for it. So Chuck pointed to me and said, “Go ahead,” so I did “Johnny B. Goode” and the crowd loved it.
When you were playing Chicago bars, did the rock and roll go over with the black audiences?
Yeah, it did. At that time, I was able to work the South Side in the black clubs and in the suburbs for white audiences. I was fortunate enough to be accepted on both sides, but I sometimes geared my sets to a particular crowd on any given night. In the suburbs, I played a lot of rock and roll…Little Richard, Dale Hawkins, Elvis Presley, Fats Domino, and of course, Chuck Berry. But when I worked the South Side, I’d lean toward B.B. King, Bobby “Blue” Bland, and people like that. I was doing all cover songs during that early period, and was one of the only black musicians accepted in the suburbs. I was the only one who could work the white suburbs on a permanent basis. In fact, at one time about 90 percent of my gigs were for white, suburban audiences.
Have you ever worked a day gig?
I’ll tell you a story. At one point in the early ’70s, I got very depressed and discouraged, and dropped out of music. I decided I had to get a job, so I got up one Monday morning and went out looking, and I ended up at the Harmony guitar factory. They had a sign that said, “Now Hiring.” I filled out an application, and they hired me. I assembled guitar bodies.
I worked there for a few weeks. One day at lunch, a gentleman kept looking at me. He finally got up his nerve to ask me, “Don’t I know you from someplace?” I said, “I don’t think so.” The next day, same thing. I was trying to be incognito as much as possible (laughs).
The next day, he said, “Aren’t you Eddy Clearwater? I saw you on TV.” So, I said, “Yeah, that was me.” Then he said, “What are you doing here?” That was my last day of working at the Harmony Guitar Company! That was my time to go back to playing. I walked out, and that was it.
Clearwater with legendary harpist Charlie Musselwhite.
Over the years, you’ve developed a reputation as a showman. How did you develop your stage show?
By listening and watching and paying attention to other people – how they presented themselves. I watched Jackie Wilson in his early days. I got a lot from James Brown and how he presented himself. Even though they were R&B people, I was able to develop my stage act that way, picking up mannerisms, and more important, the way they worked a crowd.
Where did the Indian headdress come from?
It started at the Trieste Lounge in West Nile, Illinois, right down the street from where Muddy Waters lived. This lady who worked there – a bartender – invited us all to a party at her house one night after the lounge closed. In her den, she had an Indian headdress hanging on the wall. I admired it, and offered to buy it to wear onstage.
She said she couldn’t sell it to me because it belonged to her deceased husband. I backed off, but kept expressing interest in it the next day at the lounge. She could see I was anxious to get it, so finally she gave it to me as a good luck charm, providing I never parted with it. I gave her my word.
That was 1975. I still have it, but it’s retired to my basement. I’m going to put it on display in my club. I have since purchased several more that I wear onstage, so the headdress has become my trademark. Now, it’s usually in my contract that I have to wear it onstage.
After touring Europe in the ’70s, you began to finally get some recognition in the U.S. How did that domestic success finally come about?
George Wein, the famous promoter, was putting together a European blues tour, and he wanted someone out of Chicago who was fresh and unknown outside of the city. Buddy Guy and Junior Wells were the headliners. I was recommended, so George’s people called me, told me about the tour and the pay and how long we’d be gone, and also told me it was a chance to get known outside of Chicago. So, I went on a 21-date tour of Europe; France, Switzerland, Sweden, England, Spain.
Word got back to the States that I was the hottest thing on the tour. I just worked as hard as I could, and did my best. It was after that tour that my name began to spread and I did my first album for Rooster Blues Records. Jim O’Neill formed Rooster Blues Records just for that album.
You’ve worked with Duke Robillard on your last two albums. Duke’s a great guitar player. What is he like to work with?
Duke is a great platform, a great foundation. He has such a wide-ranging concept of so many styles of music. I can throw a rockabilly idea at him and he’ll know exactly where I’m coming from. I can do an old, southern-type blues or an R&B thing, or maybe some swing, and he’ll pick right up and understand it. He’s very well-rounded.
We should talk about your equipment, but before we do that, let me get this straight: you play a right-handed guitar turned upside down without changing the strings around, right?
I’m left-handed, and when I started playing, there was no such thing as a left-handed guitar. I had to figure out how to play it upside-down. I’ve tried play a stock left-handed guitar, but it feels awkward as hell, and totally wrong.
Clearwater’s guitars. The ES-335 is his axe of choice.
Tell me about your first guitar.
My first guitar was a Silvertone. I bought it at Sears Roebuck, with a Silvertone amp. I loved that thing, man. Wish I’d kept it. A gentleman who was playing bass with me in Atlanta recently had a new Danelectro bass, and it was really sounding nice.
What did you use after the Silvertone?
An Epiphone… I don’t know the model name, but it was a big-body jazz-style guitar. After that, I got an early-’60s Telecaster. Magic Sam made me get that one because he used to sound so good on his. After the Silvertone amp, I got a Gibson amplifier, and that’s why I don’t like Gibson amps today (laughs)! I love Gibson guitars, but that amp didn’t cut it for me. I got the Gibson amp in the late ’60s. I don’t remember the model number. My next amp was a piggyback tweed Fender Bassman. Freddie King had one for a long time.
Do you still have that Telecaster?
I sold it to a friend of mine named Billy Johnson, for $125 (laughs). I tried to buy it back from him and he went, “Oh no. No way.” I have pictures of me with that guitar at the club. A friend of mine said it’s now covered with fake leopardskin. Every time I see that picture, I want to cry because I really want that Telecaster back.
We all have stories like that! And it’s worth several thousand dollars now…
I know!
What guitars are you using now?
I’m using a red Gibson ES-335, probably a 1975 or so. And Gibson gave me a black B.B. King Lucille model for an endorsement last year. I didn’t go to the W.C. Handy awards last year, and the Gibson people showed up there with the Lucille hoping to give it to me. They called and asked how they could get the guitar to me, so I gave ’em my address. A month later, it arrived by UPS.
I also have an ’80s Tele, an older black Strat, and a newer turquoise-colored Strat. I have an acoustic six-string Seagull guitar, a 12-string Martin, and a new Epiphone electric guitar.
Which do you use live?
The red 335 and the turquoise Strat, mostly. I haven’t played my Telecaster in a while. It stays home, but I love the way it sounds.
What amps are you using live?
Fender Twins. I have five… no, six Twin Reverbs. I also a have a Fender Deluxe and a Music Man.
You’re not using them all at once, are you?
(laughs) On, no! I just like Twins a lot. I usually use just one live, but occasionally two if the venue demands it. I’m thinking about getting a Super Reverb. I found one I like in a local music store here.
Do you use any effects?
Yes, I like a little echo and wah once in a while, but basically I prefer to plug and play. I used Duke’s Scholz Rockman in the studio, and it worked well.
Having played guitars that are now considered collector’s items, do you think guitars were generally better back in the ’50s and ’60s?
I think the sound of guitars then was much better, generally. There’s something about the wood and the electronics that was better. And I think the craftsmanship was better. Most players I know prefer vintage guitars over new ones.
Prices for many old Fender or Gibson guitars have gone through the roof, out of reach of the average musician. 1959 Les Paul sunbursts are approaching six figures. How do you feel about that?
Six figures? I don’t want to say the prices are overinflated, but that’s a lot of money! That’s like a having a Stradivarius violin. If somebody knew you had it, it would be gone.
I had one guitar stolen from me in Lee’s Lounge – another Telecaster. I left it in the case in the club. The next night I went back to play, and the case was there, but the guitar was gone. They took the guitar and left the case. That case felt awfully light when I picked it up.
Which of your guitars do you have a real passion for?
It would have to be my red Gibson ES-335. Of all the guitars I’ve ever owned, that’s the most special. It feels like a part of me.
Who are some of the younger blues guitarists you like to listen to?
I like Michael Coleman. A lot of his stuff is real good. And I like Charlie Love, another Chicago player. I like some of Melvin Taylor’s stuff. He’s more rock-oriented.
At the Pocono Blues Festival a few years ago you were yelling encouragement to Carl Weathersby from the audience (laughter)!
I forgot to mention him, but I love Carl’s playing.
How did your new club come about?
My wife and I simply decided to open a club and restaurant. And so far, things are going very well. We serve Tex/Mex and Southwestern food, and we’re trying to make it a nice, enjoyable venue. We want the quality to be as high as possible so people will say they really got value for their money.
And we present live music five nights a week. I’m not really involved with the day-to-day running of the club, but my wife is. We made a deal: I would do the music, and we hired a good manager from Michigan to handle the day-to-day operation.
I stick to my blues. If I have to get involved with the money-end and serving drinks and all that stuff, then my music is going to suffer. So I let them concentrate on the business.
And you’re involved with the Blues Music Association?
Yes. I’d like to be as active as possible, because it’s a very worthy thing to do. It exists for blues and blues musicians, to elevate the music to the next level. Country artists stick together and get much more respect than blues musicians because they promote themselves properly. That’s what we have to do. The BMA should have been together a long time ago.
Most of our readers are guitarists. Any advice you’d care to pass along from your years of experience?
My best advice is to be as consistent as possible with your playing, and play every chance you get. Stay on the case, and do it.
It’s very hard to sustain a career in the music business. Your best music will come out, if you’re sincere about what you’re doing. Every time you play in front of someone, you never know who might admire what you’re doing and be influenced and moved by your music. And that’s a very good thing.
This article originally appeared in VG June 2002 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
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Actresses Lennon Stella (left, with a 1934 Kalamazoo KG14), Connie Britton, and Maisy Stella on the set.
It’s not often that prime-time network television captures an audience of working class, professional musicians. In 1968, players watched Elvis Presley and Scotty Moore swap their Gibson SJ-200 and a Super 400 during Elvis’ “Comeback Special.” More recently, it’s been done with grace in a fictional musical drama.
“Nashville” aired for four seasons on ABC, then, after the network opted to not take it on for a fifth, a fitting new host emerged in Country Music Television (CMT). The show is particularly popular in the city for which it is named and has earned high praise not only for exposing millions of Americans to the world of vintage guitars, but also for the way it realistically portrays the sights and sounds involved in creating music. Much of the credit for that goes to two men who share a passion for their work on the series.
Danny Rowe, the show’s propmaster for musical instruments, along with musician/music producer/music director/songwriter Colin Linden, strive to ensure that what viewers see closely matches what they hear in the show’s performances. Critical to that authenticity is the attention to detail poured into each episode.
“We’re truly righteous to the gear,” Rowe said. “Whatever they’re using in the studio to cut the tracks, I match to the camera; so if it’s P-90s in the neck position on a Les Paul goldtop, that’s what you’re seeing.”
Charles Esten with a ’55 Gibson J-200. Photo: Mark Levine.
Rowe hunts down the guitars.
“I rent instruments from Carter Vintage Guitars, Corner Music, and Gruhn Guitars. They know I’m looking for a specific guitar with particular pickups to use on-camera, and they take great pride knowing that somebody cares enough to get it right.”
Pulling it off is quite the process.
“For every song performed, Buddy (Miller, the show’s Executive Music Producer) has to submit three to the network. Then they’ll go back and record it, and that’s where they figure out sound and instrumentation. Then, engineers send me photos from the sessions. At that point, I know what I’ll be renting.”
And, for each character who plays, the crew tries to establish an instrument of choice as part of the story.
“We have to consider, ‘Is he old school, is he new school?’” Rowe said. “The hardest part is when I’m listening to the session before they’ve been able to send photos; but I know they have a million things on their plate, too.”
Just as crucial is a convincing performance.
“T-Bone (Burnett, the show’s former music producer) wanted me to work with the cast on-set so they could really learn to play the parts, and not fake it,” said Linden. “I supervise the shoots and not only notate for errors, but work with the cast and bands to play – exactly – the parts we did on the recording. We never want to dumb-down the music so the actors ‘get’ it – and they don’t want us to.
Actor Mark Collie with a Gibson J-200. Photo: Mark Levine.
“For instance, if there’s a part that Sam Palladio’s character, Gunnar, is supposed to be playing, Sam will move heaven and earth to learn it.”
“The actors work their behinds off learning parts – alternate tunings, capos, whatever it takes,” Rowe adds. “It’s more than just some guy with his head buried in his lap playing this intricate voicing. We’ve had Brian Setzer, Doyle Bramhall II, Kenny Vaughan, and all kinds of heavyweights here to cut stuff.”
That quest for realism and accuracy even extends to the on-screen backing bands.
“Everybody who plays in a backing band on the show is a full-time professional musician,” Linden said. “A lot of them play with Carrie Underwood, Toby Keith, and other bands that are out regularly touring. Casting always confers with us to make sure the parts are right for the people and the people are right for the parts.”
For Linden, that means getting into the characters’ heads.
“Colin is absolutely phenomenal,” says Rowe. “When he’s in the studio recording an actor’s guitar part to teach them later, he takes the time to really understand how they play, then records it in that manner. He’s not in there playing as Colin Linden – he’s thinking ‘How would Avery Barkly play this? How would Deacon Claybourne play this.’ Then, during rehearsal, I’ll watch the actors pick up the guitar part with Colin helping; ‘Here it is from the mirror of how you play.’ That is mind-blowing to think of, on a TV show. It’s not just, ‘Hey, I banged out this great part.’ It’s ‘Hey, I banged out this great part that you probably would have played.’”
“The different worlds collide to a degree,” Linden says of the process. “There’s what Charles Esten would do versus what his character, Deacon, would do. And of course, storyline is key. In season two, Deacon was recovering after a car accident, and he could barely play. Callie Khouri (series creator) suggested that since his problem was his left hand, maybe he could get back into it by playing slide. So I started playing Deacon’s slide on the goldtop. Charles wanted to learn everything about it. He gets into the weeds so much. Really, though, they all dig in deeply, and that’s what I am trying to do with each of the characters.”
As developing musicians, the actors blend their own style to make the roles their own.
“When Layla Grant, who is played by Aubrey Peeples, started playing guitar on the show, I asked Aubrey how she’d be most comfortable,” Linden recalled. “She asked, ‘Would it be okay if I played without a pick?’ I said, ‘Of course’ and asked how she would strum through something and she said, ‘Well it’s kind of like I’m holding a pick – I put the two fingers together.’ So whenever I play her parts, that’s what I do; I play it in a style that she would, and then I teach her the parts. There have been a couple of times when she’s been given a solo, and she just rises to the occasion.”
Choosing guitars for a character is given the same consideration as casting for a role.
Sam Palladio with a ’67 Gibson Country Western. Photo: Mark Levine.
“We feel like an old guitar says something about the uniqueness of a character’s aesthetic, so we really try to keep that in mind every time we choose an instrument for someone,” Linden says. “Willie Nelson has Trigger, and when you think of Willie, you think of him playing that guitar. People are bound to play more than one instrument, but you also know that every guitar player has a ‘food group.’ Making those choices really helps say something about the nature of that character.”
The team also does an incredible job intertwining personalities with the script.
“In season three, Layla made the transformation from sort of a fluffy pop singer to a more-serious artist,” explains Linden. “Buddy thought she should be playing an archtop, and I’d recently found a ’35 Gibson L-5. It had a badly repaired crack, but the crack had some pathos to it – like the guitar had seen some pain. The character had gone through something pretty difficult and was coming out on the other side, so that became her character guitar. It really says something for a 20-year-old girl to be playing that guitar. Aubrey knew exactly what was cool about it, and why it was perfect for Layla.”
Prior to that, the songbird had been seen strumming another super-cool American timepiece.
“There’s a scene where Layla goes into a tent where someone is selling guitars and – without being directed to do so – she picked up is a ’62 Harmony Monterey,” said Linden. “She’s just drawn to archtops, and we pay a lot of attention to those details when choosing character guitars.”
And the selection rides hand-in-hand with the plot. “When creating the characters, musically, they started to figure out what’s in these guys’ wheelhouse,” Rowe said. “Gunnar (Sam Palladio) initially had an LG-2 that belonged to [singer/songwriter] Julie Miller, then we had a reissue that served as his clunker to bang around on and work stuff out. Once he started going to bigger arena stuff, he started using Colin’s ’67 Gibson Country Western.”
Of working on Gunnar’s parts, Linden recalled how Palladio became a better guitar player in the last couple of years. “I kind of know what he goes for and what he likes,” he said. “I play his parts on a guitar that his character would play, like the Country Western. He has borrowed that guitar for gigs because he’s really comfortable playing it; it has become part of his persona.”
Other key guitars include a ’64 Guild Starfire IV with mini-humbuckers Rowe puts with the band backing Scarlett and Gunnar.
“Gunnar also uses Buddy Miller’s older Danelectros, and we use some Kay reissues in his music room,” he said.
Colin Linden with his 1951 Gibson CF-100e. Colin Linden: Laura Godwin.
Throughout the series, characters identify with an array of unique axes.
“Avery [Jonathan Jackson] started with a ’60s Harmony Rocket, then once he made a little money, moved on to a 335,” Rowe noted. “He also plays a ’51 Gibson CF-100e with a Florentine cutaway; it’s an amazing, beautiful guitar.”
While many of the guitars are rented, others are pulled from Linden and Rowe’s personal collection.
“I had my eyes on a 1940 Gibson L-00 at Corner Music, but the bridge was pulling up, there were no pins in it, and it needed a re-fret,” Rowe said. “Still, it spoke to me; it had the ebony tuning keys and there was a rattlesnake rattle in it. So I bought it for myself as a front-porch guitar and took it for Gibson to go through. They called and said, ‘Your guitar is done, but Miranda Lambert wants to play it in her video for ‘Automatic.’” When I got it back, Callie needed a guitar for Deacon to give Rayna (Connie Britton) at the end of season two, for their daughter, Maddie (Lennon Stella); something with a story. I said, ‘I’ve got this L-00 and the story could be that Deacon had worked with this guitar and he wanted his daughter to have it.’
“From then on, Lennon played it in the show, and she loves that guitar. She’s so great at it, and when you’re seeing her play, Colin recorded her parts with that guitar.”
Deacon, one of the protagonists, is a Nashville go-to guitarslinger and session guy, and as such uses the widest range of guitars.
“He’s a performer – side man and session player – so he’s more-versatile,” explained Linden. “In his portrayal, Chip plays my ’56 Gibson LG-2 with a Baggs soundhole pickup for a lot of scenes, and a ’66 Martin D-18. As of late, he’s also playing my sunburst ’64 Gretsch Double Anniversary with a Bigsby. Those have become Deacon’s roots.”
Rowe expands on the character’s toolbox.
“Deacon has a ’55 J-200 with a pickup that I grabbed from Carter’s. When we filmed our second On The Record Live, Chip asked to borrow it and afterward said, ‘I don’t think this guitar is ever going back to Carters’,’ and he bought it. Prior to that, he was shown mostly with Buddy’s ’54 SJ-200, which Emmy Lou Harris had given him. For slide, he’s using a 2012 Goldtop, and we have a ’52 reissue Goldtop with the trapeze tailpiece. Then there’s Buddy’s Gretsch Black Penguin with a Bigsby and D’Armond pickups, and one I got from Fender with the original-style tailpiece.”
Early on, the Juliette Barnes character, played by Hayden Panettiere, gifted Deacon a rare Martin.
Charles Esten with a ’66 Martin D-18 and a Gretsch Country Gentleman. Photo: Mark Levine.
“That was a ’29 OM-28 – an incredible guitar that sounded unbelievable,” said Rowe. “We got it from Norman’s Rare Guitars. T-Bone flew with it from L.A. to Nashville and, after, it sold for $50,000.”
In the era of “product placement,” very often the appearance of product like musical instruments happens through endorsements, but Rowe explained that is not the case with “Nashville.”
“A lot of what we’re doing is Gibson and Fender because it works so well with the music – Gretsches, Teles, and Gibsons are just so tasty, and Buddy, T-Bone, and Colin are finding the voices for the songs. It’s such an Americana vibe.”
And when it comes to “Fender or Gibson,” well, it’s far more often about “old versus new.”
“We love old, sweaty guitars,” said Linden. “They have that mojo. We’re all out there – the whole music team – looking at old stuff. And the funny thing is, we tend not to buy anything for the show because we’re afraid it will end up in a warehouse somewhere.”
“There are a lot of great new instruments, too,” adds Linden. “I’ve used a couple of Eastwoods, including a Tuxedo. But if someone was to ask, ‘What’s the definitive guitar of the show,’ I’d say my ’51 Gibson CF-100e. It’s got a K&K pickup, so it really does have two outputs. There are several of them in the ‘Nashville’ TV family now; there’s something about them that feels like it’s ours.”
The organic methods of recording and performing are carried out beyond cinematic storytelling.
Aubrey Peeples with a ’35 Gibson L-5. Photo: Mark Levine.
“T-Bone really values the sound of an acoustic guitar played acoustically,” says Linden. “When we did a promotional performance on ‘The View’ with Chip, Sam, Clare Bowen, and Jonathan, we didn’t use pickups; we just put mics in front of guitars. We even brought an RCA 44 for the upright. Whenever you see somebody on the show not plugged in, we want to say in our own subtle way, ‘These really cool guitar sounds were done with mics.’ Even people who aren’t musicians can kind of tell if something is a crock.”
“We don’t want to make a show with no strings on the guitar,” Rowe adds with a laugh. “There’s nothing worse than hearing a vibrato bend played when there’s no vibrato arm on the guitar. I talk to a lot of people who couldn’t care less which guitar that hunky guy is playing… but then there’s guys like us!”
Certainly, when the show’s list of fans includes names like Brad Paisley, Chris Martin, and Seymour Duncan… “We wouldn’t want to go on the cheap with anything, especially when people we respect are watching.”
Beyond keen-eyed musicians, though, Linden points to the bigger picture – and broader audience.
“We’re doing our best to represent this great music community in Nashville,” he said. “It’s so stylistically diverse and versatile, and we want to put it on proper display.”
Other not-easily-impressed people laud the efforts of Collin, Rowe, and others on the show staff. Instrument dealer George Gruhn is one.
“Executive Producer Steve Buchanan hired exceptional talent to see to it that the quality and authenticity of the music is top-rate,” he said. “The musicians are extraordinarily talented, and I think the show benefits tremendously from featured entertainers being not only actors, but people who do indeed sing and play; Charles Esten, Aubrey Peeples, and some of the backing players have done multiple guest spots onstage at the Grand Ole Opry, and they pursue musical careers beyond their role in the TV series.”
Lennon Stella with a ’64 Fender Mustang. Lennon Stella: Colin Linden.
Walter Carter, whose shop, Carter Vintage, is another primary source for instruments, also appreciates the work of Rowe and Linden.
“Though some aspects of the show are Hollywood-ized, the instruments are true. When you hear a guitar on the soundtrack that sounds like a Gretsch with a DeArmond pickup or a vintage Gibson acoustic, that’s what you see onscreen,” he said. “When they showed a Gibson SJ the character claimed belonged to Hank Williams, it was period-correct.
“Behind the scenes, there’s a great appreciation for vintage guitars that started with T-Bone Burnett as music director and carried on through Buddy Miller and Colin Linden. Danny Rowe, of course, is the one who holds producers’ feet to the fire when it comes to ‘truth in instruments.’”
Arguably even more important than the on-screen singing and handling of instruments, though, Gruhn credits the show with spurring interest in Nashville, the city.
“The show has provided a huge boost to local and state tourism,” he said. “Ten years ago, it was common to see the Opry House filled only on the ground level and the balcony almost empty. Today, with summer shows Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, often with two on Saturday, the 5,000-seat auditorium is consistently filled.
“Not only does the show have good ratings, but its success has been a significant factor in Nashville’s currently booming economy, which has in turn resulted in massive new development in the downtown area and rising real-estate values throughout the community.”
This article originally appeared in VG December 2016 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
The hokey, amphetamine-tempo’d folk music known as “skiffle” was all the rage with Britain’s youth in 1955, and rock and roll barely yet a glimmer in the collective eye, when this outrageously stylish Watkins Clubman hit the scene.
1955 Watkins Clubman • Preamp tube: one EF86 • Output tube: one EL84 • Rectifier: EZ80 • Controls: Volume, Tone • Speaker: 9″ elliptical Elac speaker • Output: around 4 watts RMS
Admittedly, the Clubman’s chintzy, pre-rock aesthetic is a big part of what makes it so appealing. Dubbed the “Odeon style” for the way its face and vertically-oriented speaker grille echoed the art-deco look of Odeon cinemas, this short-lived rendition of one of Watkins’ long-running early combos would have been many guitarists’ introduction to amplification, and today remains a nifty studio amp (and short-money collectible). Studio amp… this little chunk of candy-coated sweetness? Indeed, before passing into the hands of a British collector, this early Clubman was for years one of the tone tools at Toe Rag Studios, an East London recording facility that remains proudly analog in the face of a digital world and counts among its clientele White Stripes, James Hunter, Madness, Supergrass, The Kills, and other notable artists.
To fully assess the Clubman’s place in history, it’s worth noting that Watkins was in the game a few years before the arrival of Jennings Musical Instruments’ fledgling Vox combos, and had dipped a toe in the amplifier market as early as 1952 – though that toe was pulled out quickly thanks to a figurative toaster tossed into the water.
Long before Tom Jennings (then an accordion and organ manufacturer) began thinking about electric guitars, another accordionist by the name of Charlie Watkins was seeing the potential in the new instrument. After returning from service in the Merchant Navy, Watkins – a native of Balham, in Southeast London – for a time made a living playing accordion in small outfits. As with so many musicians, however, he eventually saw the need for a “proper job,” and in 1949 opened a record shop with his brother, Reg, in London’s Tooting Market. After moving to a slightly larger premises in ’51, they began selling accordions and other instruments; Charlie saw the guitar’s potential, but despaired at fellow musicians’ inability to be heard amid the noise of horns and accordions. As he told Gary Cooper in Sound On Sound magazine after Watkins’ death in 2015, “I thought, ‘I’ve put up with that long enough. I can do something… I’ll make an amplifier.’”
Some filter caps and signal caps have been replaced to keep the amp functional, but this early Clubman remains mostly original otherwise.
The result, the first Watkins guitar amps from circa 1952, were the combination of power sections from Premier Electronics and in-house preamps cobbled into combo cabinets. Like many other amps of the day, they could run on AC or DC current (both in use in Britain at the time). The duality was a convenience of sorts, but was extremely dangerous – deadly if used incorrectly.
“I’d sold about 20 of them by 1952,” Watkins told David Petersen in The Guitar Magazine (UK) in May of 2000. “When one day I saw a piece in the Daily Mirror about a pop-group guitarist getting killed. Being a fatalist, I thought, ‘It’s bound to be one of my amps’ – those AC/DC units were quite dangerous. I sent a telegram to the guy who was making them for me and got him to stop immediately. Somehow I managed to recall all those I’d sold and replaced them with AC-only units.”
Placing the handle on the amp’s side avoids spoiling the tasty aesthetics of the front and top.
The scare put Watkins off the amplifier game for a time, but one skiffle musician after another kept coming into the shop, and the need remained for a reliable (and louder) electric guitar. Watkins again turned to Premier Electronics and commissioned a dedicated AC-powered combo that would be sold as the Westminster – the first proper Watkins guitar amp.
This combo had two inputs with individual Volume controls, a shared Tone, and pumping approximately 10 watts through its 10″ speaker courtesy of two EL84s. It was soon joined by what would become Watkins’ most famous amp, the 17-watt “V-front” Dominator, with two 10″ speakers aiming away from each other for dispersion; and the diminutive Clubman, a “student” amp. The Watkins line was up and running, and these model names would endure for years, even after the brand itself had been changed to WEM (short for Watkins Electric Music) because Charlie liked the catchy branding of the by-then-more-popular Vox amps.
Electronically, Watkins amps were somewhat rough-hewn by the standards of better amps to come (perhaps Watkins’ amps, WEM included, were when compared to those of more-prominent makers), but they were among the first British-built amplifiers to fuel the guitar boom, and played a major part in helping skiffle transition into rock and roll. As a rule, they also sounded darn good.
Advertisements of the day billed the Clubman as a six-watt amp, but this single-ended combo with one EL84 more likely put out about four watts RMS at best, not that you’d immediately hear much of a difference. An EF86 preamp tube gives the thing a robust front-end, and its high and low inputs are labelled “Solo” and “Rhythm” to better delineate their potential. The internal photo shows that a few signal and filter capacitors have been replaced to keep it up to snuff, but it is otherwise entirely original, including its elliptical Elac speaker and both transformers (note the exposed connection terminals – do not reach up behind the rear cover when this thing is plugged in!).
The dual high and low inputs are labeled “Rhythm” and “Solo” to tell you what they do best.
Owner Julian Marsh says this particular Clubman sounds wonderful.
“It has a beautifully warm but punchy sound, with huge levels of sustain when cranked up,” he said.
By the close of the ’50s, Watkins was one of the “big three” British amp makers, alongside Selmer and a rapidly-growing JMI/Vox. This was achieved partly on the back of the proliferation of the Clubman, Westminster, and Dominator models, but also thanks to one of Watkins’s other extremely successful creations – the Copicat tape echo unit released in ’58. The WEM amps that followed in the late ’60s and early ’70s are easier to find and remain an even greater vintage-tone bargain thanks to the usual laws of supply and demand. Watkins is where it all started, though, and many will tell you that Charlie’s amps never again looked quite as tasty.
This article originally appeared in VG December 2016 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
