Tag: features

Most people remember Bill Nelson as the front man/guitar hero in the English band Be Bop Deluxe. Since folding that outfit 35 years ago, he has led a fertile solo career, releasing dozens of solo albums ranging from guitar rock to pop electronica. His latest, Blip!, showcases his hot playing with lush pop.

Who were some of your key guitar influences?
My first was Duane Eddy. I heard “Because They’re Young” on the radio in the late ’50s and loved the sound of his guitar. I then got into the Shadows and the Ventures. In my early teens, I bought records by all kinds of instrumental groups, some obscure like the Spotnicks, the String-A-Longs, the Cougars, the Fireballs, and Johnny & the Hurricanes. I also discovered Chet Atkins and Les Paul. My English Lit teacher loaned me a Django Reinhardt album, which led me to Wes Montgomery, Jim Hall, and Joe Pass. Later, I was inspired by Clapton, Beck, and Hendrix.

Still, your solos use chord-tension notes normally found in jazz.
The jazzy element comes from being exposed to jazz and swing music as a kid. My father was a saxophonist and in the ’60s, I picked up on the contemporary jazz scene – not just guitar players, but Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, Gil Evans, Thelonious Monk, Sun Ra, and Ornette Coleman. I have no academic knowledge of music theory; I play by ear – I’m what my father used to disparagingly refer to as a “busker.”

What guitars did you use on Blip!?
The main guitars were a Gretsch White Falcon, a Fender Custom Shop ’59 Strat, my Campbell Nelsonic signature model, an Eastwood Wandre Tri-Lam, a Peerless Deep Blue Custom, and a Gibson Custom Shop Les Paul Black Beauty. I recently got a Hallmark Stradette and an Eastwood California Rebel I’ve been recording with. I do have a lust for unusual guitars. They can put an entirely different spin on things.

Do you record guitars direct?
Yes, without any mic’ing of amps or cabs. I mostly use a Line 6 Pod 2; for some reason, I prefer the sound of the early ones. I also have an old Zoom 2050 rack processor and a Digitech Valve FX rack processor I add to my rig for live performances. I also have a Line 6 Pod HD500 I use in the studio when I need a more-abrasive rock sound. In conjunction with the Pod 2, I’ve also recently been using a Line 6 M5 stompbox modeler that Reeves Gabrels gave me. Some of the filters and sequenced tremolo effects in the M5 are interesting. Reeves and I are recording an album together, too.

Do you still own the Gibson ES-345 and Yamaha SG2000 guitars from the Be Bop Deluxe era?
My ES-345 is still with me and I’d never sell it. My dad bought it for me in the early ’60s and it’s a wonderful guitar, but I rarely take it out of the house. The musical memories it contains are very special. I’ve kept the second of the two Yamaha SGs – the cherry sunburst one I played toward the end of Be Bop Deluxe was sold in the early ’90s, but I still have the dark green one I played in the ’80s. It’s a little road-worn and needs new knobs and a switch tip, but it still has a great action.

Blip! tracks like “Whirlwind Winters” and “Painting Your Sky” have some great guitar work.
I still get a thrill from kicking in the retro-rockets and going for the widescreen guitar solo. But I also love the more subtle, reflective, jazzier approach. The electric guitar is capable of so many beautiful moods and textures – I’m rather greedy and enjoy it all. I’ve always had broad tastes in music and tried to incorporate the sound and style of early electric guitar alongside a more-contemporary approach to the instrument. It’s an evolving process.

What are your recollections of Be Bop Deluxe? That music still sounds fresh.
Personally, I can be a little ambivalent about Be Bop Deluxe. Those few years in the ’70s represent a fraction of my career, but because of the era and the more-commercial nature of the music I recorded back then, the band has become the main signifier of my work. I’ve never stopped making music and never felt I’ve reached my goal, whatever that might be. I’m still looking to make an album which will satisfy me. For me, Be Bop Deluxe was just a starting point in an ongoing adventure. I have fond memories from that time but I don’t feel particularly defined by it. Nevertheless, I’m more inclined to look at the world through a vehicle’s front windshield rather than its rearview mirror. The future, I hope, will always be more magnetic than the past.

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

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The latest record from Marty Stuart, Ghost Train: The Studio B Sessions, is a tour de force of country music styles that celebrates the past while pushing firmly into the future. And that’s what renaissance man Stuart was aiming for…

“Well, traditional country music is what interests me the most,” he said. “Sometimes, I miss the weight in my checkbook from lack of airplay, but that’s all I miss. I’ve got enough years behind me to know the only thing that lasts is what you do from your heart. It’s kind of become a cultural mission, because for years I’ve tried to preserve and re-stage the photos and memorabilia. Then one day I woke up and the music was slipping away. I thought we needed to do our part to hang on to it, but write a new chapter. Not a retro thing – a new chapter. I think Ghost Train may have moved it in that direction.”

Recorded in RCA’s legendary Studio B, in Nashville, where plenty of country hits were recorded, Stuart says it was a different experience. “It’s owned and controlled by Belmont University. So we had students on one side of the glass watching us record while learning. Then, friends and neighbors on the other side. So it was kind of strange and wonderful to have all that going on in a time that’s usually private. It was alright because it all kind of became a part of the atmosphere.”

Keeping Stuart’s music fresh, both live and on record, is his band, the Fabulous Superlatives. Guitarist Kenny Vaughan (VG, Dec. ’06) is the perfect foil for Stuart. Harry Stinson on drums and Paul Martin on bass are as skilled at the kind of music Stuart is making as any musicians on the planet. “We’ve been together almost a decade now, which is almost 50 years in Hillbilly time. I’ve been in bands since I was nine years old and absolutely, this is the band of a lifetime. My legacy band, as I see it. It’s the first and only band I’ve ever had where I save every recording, every photograph, every document, because it’s going to be studied when it’s all done. It’s one of those divinely ordered bands. They’re not only master musicians, they’re master people.”

Fans of Stuart and the band can get a weekly fix by tuning into his RFD-TV show, which is an amazing display of musical talent seldom seen on any kind of television these days. In the space of 30 minutes, he squeezes in performances by the Superlatives, songs by guests who are often royalty in country music, a song from his wife, Connie Smith, and a musical interlude from Leroy Troy. In-between are heavy doses of Stuart’s humor and good-natured personality. The show is reminiscent of the program Porter Wagoner served up in the late ’60s and early ’70s.

The show is just one part of his mission to keep the public exposed to traditional country music, ensuring it sees and hears more than the pop/country that dominates the radio. He also has a program on XM/Sirius radio celebrating the same thing. And he’s a fine photographer who has compiled several decades of photos featuring country artists into a book, along with DVDs of the show and some music that can’t be purchased in stores.

The TV show also was the catalyst for the only change in equipment he’s made in many years. “My guitars have pretty much stayed the same, but with amps I’ve been all over the place. For the show, someone suggested Kenny and I go to a silverface Fender Princeton. I did, and I add a little boost on top, and that’s it. We use them on the show, and that’s all I used on the record. I’ve found the true tone of my guitar in that Princeton. It’s the way to go for what I’m up to. It rings like a bell and in the control room, it’s tight and bigger than the world. I’ll use it on gigs, too, unless the room is too big. Then I’ll go back to a couple of Fender Twins.”

Stuart is an amazing guitarist and mandolinist, playing with an ease that reflects his years at his craft. He doesn’t practice much, but says for inspiration he still goes back to the guys he’s always appreciated. “Luther Perkins still makes me smile. Ralph Mooney always makes me go away shaking my head wondering how he was doing what he was doing. I love the quirkiness of Roy Nichols. And I love the Mississippi man, Muddy Waters. He can do more damage with one note than most guys can do with an entire fretboard. I do love to watch young guys come along, but the old masters are still the ones.”

As for the future, Stuart says it happens as it happens, like Ghost Train, which actually took about six years to put together. “It all starts with a song, and this one began with “Hangman,” the song I wrote with John (Cash). I thought ‘This could be the start of something deep, but it’s gonna take time.’ I started living and writing songs, re-writing them, and one day there were that many that held together. I have book upon book, album titles, album concepts that came and went. But I entertained them all. One day it all found its mark and became Ghost Train.”

His current situation nicely suits a man involved in so much. “I’ve always thought Andy Warhol had the right idea where he had the whole factory going. At the beginning of the decade, I turned my office into the fun factory. It starts with the band and the music, and it has been amazing. Photographs, books, movie scores, saving buildings… it’s the most wonderful thing to be able to say the sky’s the limit. I move with my heart but it all works under one roof now, and that’s a wonderful thing.”

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This article originally appeared in VG January 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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John Entwistle
Ode to the Ox 1944-2002
By Ward Meeker

Pop music lovers – especially those with an ear tuned to gear and how it’s used – know that John Entwistle ranks as one of the most influential bassists in the history of rock and roll. Some would argue there is none higher.

Before Entwistle, the role of the bassist was nebulous; the average listener didn’t pay much mind to bass notes or their placement. But Entwistle changed that situation dramatically, developing not only a unique style and establishing the stereotype of the rock-solid, unmoving bassist, but also evolving a tapping multi-hand approach to bass playing.

A musically curious young man, John Alex Entwistle was born in Chiswick, London, in 1944, and as a schoolboy, learned to play piano and French Horn (which he would use throughout his time in the Who). Yet another member of his generation swept up in the skiffle revival of the 1950s, Entwistle was smart enough to see that guitar players in his hometown were a dime a dozen. But few of them were willing to take on the newfangled electric bass guitar, not only because the role was deemed secondary, but also because in England at the time, decent-quality basses were nearly impossible to come by.

Despite being just 14 years old, Entwistle quickly took on double duty as bass player and bass builder, not bothering to learn guitar first.

One day, as he strode down the street, homemade bass under his arm, he was approached by a neighborhood chap named Roger Daltrey, who invited him to join a band. Guitarist Pete Townshend joined soon thereafter, then drummer Keith Moon, and the band evolved from The Detours to The High Numbers and finally The Who, and they started recording in 1964.

From early on, The Who, being a single-guitar band, relied heavily on Entwistle to keep the music rolling. For many reasons (like keeping up with Townshend’s taste for 100-watt amp stacks) he tended to play extremely loud and complex parts to compensate for the absence of a rhythm guitar. The Who was unique in that way: Townshend’s guitar was often the base that Moon and Entwistle would “solo” over.

And amid the pandemonium that was a Who concert – Townshend’s windmilling and power-posing, Moon’s run-amock drumming style, and Daltrey’s frontman posturing – Entwistle developed a trademark standstill style that contrasted visually as he laid down complex fills and countermelodies that fit perfectly.

Entwistle also wrote many noteworthy Who songs. Where Townshend proved to be the cynic, the rebel, the conceptualist, Entwistle’s bizarre, often dark sense of humor lent further contrast. Two cases in point are “Boris the Spider,” from the band’s second album (A Quick One) and “My Wife,” from Who’s Next.

From 1971 to 1973, Entwistle, discouraged by certain bandmates’ falling victim to the trappings of rock stardom, released three solo albums and toured with his band, Ox. Though his solo career never garnered much interest in the U.S., it helped him focus on music despite the fact that the Who was on shakey ground; Townshend had suffered a nervous breakdown early in the decade, Daltrey pursued acting and a solo career, and Moon moved into the party fast lane that would claim his life in 1978.

Despite a uniform feeling that the band wouldn’t really exist after’s Moon’s passing, the Who toured in support of Who Are You, which was released just a few months before the drummer’s death. The wind, however, was knocked out of the band’s sails early in the tour, when 11 fans were trampled to death before a concert in Cincinnati in December, 1979.

The Who kicked out two albums in the early ’80s (1981’s Face Dances and 1982’s It’s Hard). Entwistle, meanwhile, recorded another solo album, Too Late The Hero, which reached number 71 on the U.S. album charts.

The band was to have retired following a farewell tour in 1982, but demand for a reunion led to another tour in ’89.

In the mid ’90s, Entwistle assembled the John Entwistle Band, with producer Steve Luongo on drums, guitarist Godfrey Townsend, and keyboardist Gordon Cotton.

In late June ’02, The Who had regrouped and was set to begin a tour of North America, when Entwistle died on June 27.

By all accounts, Entwistle’s personality was that of one of the most grounded, humble rock superstars ever. As a player, he respected peers like Paul McCartney and Jack Bruce (though he wouldn’t necessarily say he liked their tone), though his own style shared little with either of them. But like them, it defined itself.

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Goodbye, John Alec Entwistle
We Hardly Knew Ya
By Steve Patt and Rick Pascual

“Kid, can ya lend me a hand here?” emanated from a hairy individual in a British accent so thick I could barely understand it’s meaning.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed a guitar case from the gent and followed him down the long hallway. This was my first encounter with John “The Ox” Entwistle, in grungy downtown Baltimore, and I got used to helping him over the years.

In the old days, access to bands was a lot easier, and being a 16-year-old Who fan, I had hoped to meet the group by scoping out their hotel. I got more than I bargained for, because the group’s head roadie, a hobbit-like sandy-haired Bob Pridden, pressed me into service, and I was a fixture for the tour.

The Who, all included, were fun to be around, and got along like family. But John was the avuncular older brother to me, giving me tips on wine, women, and (of course) song – though not necessarily in that order. I graduated from the Who to Procol Harum, and eventually left roadying to be a musician with the Chambers Brothers, but never forgot the kindness of Peter, Keith, Roger, and John… who urged me to “forget about the music life, kid – it’s all flash. Go back to school!” Which, of course, I ignored at the time.

John was a scholar – very serious about his music – but had an easy perspective on the Who and its role in the world of popular music.

The group took the stage June 29 in Los Angeles, without its linchpin, John Entwistle. “John would have wanted us to go on,” Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey, the remaining original bandmates issued in a statement after John’s untimely death at 57, and I couldn’t agree more. The extended family of Peter, Roger, and crew will be playing their hearts out in honor of John Alec Entwistle and his legacy, and all of us music lovers will be there in spirit. – Steve Patt

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As you entered the original Manny’s Music on 48th Street in New York City, you walked straight ahead to the stairs that led you down to the main selling floor. That’s where the guitars were, behind sliding locked glass doors above your head. Amplifiers of all the most soughtafter brands formed a small island in the center. The yellow Danelectro that everyone used to test amps was sitting in its usual spot on top of a Standel (or maybe Fender) amp.

I bought my first Precision Bass at Manny’s on August 7, 1968. I still play it to this day. John Entwistle and Pete Townshend entered the store right behind me and my brother, Frankee Lee.

The two guitar players of the Who walked passed us and we acted as cool as we could, but I was delirious. I really was a fan, and that summer I was in love with The Who Sell Out LP.

Entwistle also came to buy a Precision Bass. Henry, Manny’s sales guy, called upstairs to stock and told them to bring down two Fender Precision Basses in sunburst. Henry turned to me and asked if I was buying the case as well figuring that perhaps I could only afford the bass. He didn’t know that I had $225 burning a hole in my pocket. I’d accumulated this money during a summer job at my mother’s office, an aircraft parts distributor. She was my boss that summer and told me if I wanted a really good bass, I’d have to buy it myself. She gave me the job so I could earn it. I really wanted a Precision Bass.

When they finally brought the basses down, Mr. Entwistle opened one of the cases and wearily brushed at the strings as it laid in its orange-lined case. I took the other out and caressed and stroked it like the new lover it was about to become.

I turned to Entwistle who was standing a foot or two away talking to Henry and asked if these weren’t the greatest basses we were buying and he simply said, “The best.” He was so right.

Later that night The Who played the Shaefer Festival in Central Park’s Wollman Rink where I caught Townshend’s pickup cover from his completely smashed Gibson SG. Entwistle did not play the bass that he had bought that evening and I often wondered if he ever did play it or perhaps he made a lamp out of it at a later date.

He was the best rock bass player period. He changed the role and sound of the electric bass like Hendrix changed the sound of the electric guitar. I don’t think he was unappreciated. His fans, myself one for 37 years, are many and varied and devoted. The greatest pleasure in going to see him play was watching him stand so casually still and fly so high into the heavens simultaneously.

He knew he astonished other bass players, after all he was our Jeff Beck. We worshipped and applauded and let it be known that he was the hero of another subspecies of Who fanatics. Anyone who was really listening when they first heard the thunderous solos he blasts off in “My Generation” knew from that day forward the bass was coming out of the shadows. Live at Leeds. Left channel. Case Closed. – Rick Pascual

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The Ox’s Axes

As The Who gained prominence, John Entwistle’s tastes developed and he made the de rigeur progression through various makes and models of bass guitars. By the mid ’70s he’d developed a liking for the Fender bass feel, but favored the low-end tone of Gibson’s Thunderbird through Hi-Watt and Sunn amps. Ever one to resolve a quandry, he had Fender Precision necks fitted to Thunderbird bodies – creating what he called his “Fenderbirds.”

By the late ’70s he had taken to custom-made (and often elaborate) Alembic basses. Through two decades he was often seen in concert and video playing an Alembic with an Explorer-shaped body. By the late ’90s, though, he was playing Status basses with all-graphite necks.

But his personal collection of guitars consisted mostly of six-strings, including some fantastic rarities, like a matched set of 1958 Gibsons – a Flying V and an Explorer – a late-’60s Fender Stratocaster in Paisley Red, and a double-cutaway Gretsch White Penguin made for Mary Ford, and believed to be the only one of its kind. Among the basses in the collection were several early-’50s Fender Precisions, Ampeg Horizontal basses, including a an ASB-1 “Devil Bass,” and a Rickenbacker 4005L “lightshow” bass.

Entwistle collected more than “just guitars.” An avid deep-sea fisherman, he had nearly 300 fish mounted and hanging in his bar at home, to go with a guitar collection that numbered well over 200. He also had a fondness, at varying times, for Star Trek episodes on videotape, brass instruments, and antique synthesizers. He even tried his hand at breeding purebred chickens. He was also an avid drawer, and on a few occasions, toured with his artwork.

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This article originally appeared in VG October 2002 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Riff rockers Crobot have been promoting their first album, Something Supernatural, with a live show offering full-bombast rock, contagious funk, and science fiction. The band’s success is owed in part to the sonic interludes of guitarist Chris Bishop, who has discovered the missing link between crashing power chords, funky riffs, and hallucinogenic guitar effects,

Your sound has hints of Clutch and Queens Of The Stone Age. How did you discover your own “voice?”
It wasn’t one of those things we had to develop much. We just started jamming. When the tap tempo broke on my Vox delay pedal, I started trying to manipulate delay times with my foot while we were playing, and it started making these crazy sounds. Sometimes, I’d accidently smack the wrong knob, and I’d use the sound to ramp songs and parts into each other. Once I started doing that, I knew I wanted to utilize low-octave effects and abrasive delay. “Legend Of The Spaceborne Killer,” was the first song where we said, “That’s our sound.”

Your playing has a Southern funkiness.
Skynyrd. I’m from Tennessee, and I remember playing guitar with my dad and his cousins. They would literally sit around and drink beer and play every Lynyrd Skynyrd song all night. So, I would learn all these songs. Having that funkiness is important. Really, I’m just trying to fill frequencies within the band. One of my favorite guitar players is Audley Freed, and his playing is similar to mine because I remember learning Cry of Love songs when I was 10 or 11. It really stuck with me. Even with all the effects, you still get an organic guitar tone, and that’s important, especially if you want a raw feel. If you want to sound like Nickelback, you use a big wall of sound. That’s great, but I like people to hear the character in my playing. I’m somewhat of a sloppy player. I want people to be able to hear the string noise and not just hear a big wall of distortion.

Which amp are you using?
I’ve played Orange amps for years. I use the Dual Terror and I have the Tiny Terror for a backup or to play a small room. If it’s a decent-size room where I can crank it up a little bit, I’ll use the Dual Terror. They’re both awesome, and it’s vital that I have that because the way I run the crazy delay stuff, I need a bit of head room so I’m not working with straight feedback. The Duals are pretty good for that. I don’t have to run it too hot, but I still have a good, solid tube sound.

What’s on your pedalboard?
I’ve got a Morley Bad Horsie Wah, which is one of the first they ever made. I use it more as a filter effect. I also have a Way Huge Swollen Pickle and a Z-Vex Fuzz Factory. Then I have an Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and a POG 2. The Micro POG is set for one octave down, while the POG 2 I use strictly for my octave up. I stack them. That’s the holy grail of kick-you-in-your-face tone. When I want to get heavy and knock someone’s balls off, I put that Fuzz Factory on with that sub-octave from my POG.

I also have a Vox Time Machine Delay that was modded. That’s my abrasive, super-crazy delay. My other delay is an Ibanez Echo Shifter. It has a really big knob in the middle that you can use with your foot to move up and down. That’s how I get that whirly psychedelic sound.

What’s your main guitar?
For years, I’ve been playing a Fender ’72 FSR Telecaster. It’s sunburnt orange and has a Bare Knuckle P90. It’s got a standard Tele neck, so it feels nice. I recorded the whole album with it. I use the low-octave pedal on a lot of my single-note riffs to compensate for the Tele sound, which is very high-end and piercing, sometimes. The low octave gives a huge, unique sound. You still get the attack and the metallic-ness of the strings, but you get all that low-end. It’s really awesome.

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This article originally appeared in VG‘s March 2015 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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