Tag: features

King’s X guitarist Ty Tabor is on a roll. Despite the band being on hiatus due to bassist Dug Pinnick’s health issues, Tabor stays busy with side projects like Jelly Jam, with Rod Morgenstein and John Myung. He operates a commercial audio mastering facility, and his new solo album, Nobody Wins When Nobody Plays, showcases idiosyncratic melodies, evocative lyrics, and rich guitar tones. Tabor took a break from his busy schedule to give us an update.

The new album is truly awesome.
Thanks. It’s been three years and nine months since my last release. I had a whole lot of stuff happen in the last three years where I diverted from it quite a bit, including moving to a different state and being shut down for a while in the studio. I did a new Jelly Jam album and I did all the mixing and mastering. It’s a big ordeal to do one of those records. We actually did another Jelly Jam album that is ready for me to put vocals on. Then, with King’s X touring… That’s why it took so long.

Are you always writing when life isn’t getting in the way?
Yes. That’s my therapy. I use to have another therapy, which was motorcycle riding, but I really can’t do that too much anymore. Nowadays, I write more music than I use to. I’ve really been getting into it mainly over the last three or four years. I’ve written an entire instrumental album, another album on the way, and all the Jelly Jam stuff. It’s just write, write, write, and there’s always a place for it, which is great. It’s been a highly prolific time, and I just can’t seem to drag myself away.

Does the title of the album reflect an overall theme?
I don’t think there was any intentional over all theme other than life and the state of life in America, if you watch TV and pay attention to news and politics. I think that’s pretty much what’s been driving most of the stuff I’ve been writing for the last several years. It’s kind of scary because you have to disguise things sometimes. I enjoy doing that more than being dogmatic about a theme or an idea, even though a lot of stuff that I write can sound very dogmatic.

I hope that it’s dogmatic without actually pointing to what it’s being dogmatic about (laughs). That way, someone can place it in their own life. That’s my favorite way to write. I like music to be the thing that draws everybody together, and not a polarizing thing.

You’re using Gibson Les Paul guitars on this album. Why the switch?
When King’s X first started, I was playing a ’76 Les Paul Custom. It’s on the new record. I also play a Les Paul ’50s Tribute, and it’s my favorite Les Paul. It’s a little lighter than the real ’50s, but it has the same neck, body thickness, feel, and vibe. I’ve been playing it almost exclusively.

What led you back to the Les Paul?
I was a Les Paul guy before King’s X got signed. Two years before we got signed, I started playing a Strat because somebody else I was playing with wanted a Strat on their music. I got an ’83 Elite Strat and started playing it, mainly for this other person’s project. I tried it with King’s X and at first nobody was impressed. They thought it was too jangly and not heavy enough. It did have some kind of magic, so I didn’t give up on it. I kept playing it for a couple of years and that’s right around the time we got signed. I mentioned to Dug and Jerry that I was thinking about going back to a Les Paul and they were like, “Nooooo! We love the Strat!” It evolved into something where everyone was liking it, and it became what I was known for.

One of the things I really dig about this ’50s Tribute Les Paul is that it has Alnico V magnets in the pickups. It gives it a little more clanky articulation, and stays sparkling clean when I roll down the Volume. Because of that, I’ve had several people tell me that this Les Paul is the closest tone to the Elite Stratocaster, because it has a lot more oomph to it than a normal Strat. My ’50s Tribute is a little cleaner than a normal Les Paul so it’s very close to that combo.

But then, you’ve always transcended the wire and the wood, regardless of the guitar.
Thank you. It’s weird, because it hasn’t been until recently that I’ve learned to accept that as a good thing.

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

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Much has been written and said about Billy Squier and how his 1981 album, Don’t Say No, provided the spark in the gap between 1970s hard rock and ’80s heavy metal.

Indeed, when he rose to fame in the early 1980s on the strength of “The Stroke,” his mega-hit ode to glad-handing record executives, Squier had something for every fan of hard-edged melodic rock and roll; girls dug his hair and sensitive-guy balladry, while guys were into his badass guitar tones and the heavy rock riffs that garnered comparisons to acts like Led Zeppelin.

Squier emerged from the East Coast pop music scene in the late 1960s carrying all the tools to become a star, from his knowledge of rock and roll to the influences shared by so many guitarists at the time and ever since – Clapton, Hendrix, Page, et al. And he was bolstered by an undeniable talent for songwriting that brought him a string of hit singles, platinum-level album sales (some 12 million units total), and a fan base that made him a stadium-filling entity on par with Queen and Def Leppard.

These days, Squier’s life is downright bucolic compared to the ’80s. After tending to his daily affairs, he helps tend a 20-acre garden plot in New York City’s Central Park. And when the mood or inspiration strikes, he’ll pick up one of his vintage guitars, strum a few bars, and see what becomes of it. We spoke with him recently about his past, what’s up now, and of course, his modest-but-notable collection of guitars and amps.

Vintage Guitar: At what age did you start really paying attention to music, or realize it had significance to you?
Billy Squier: Around age 13. I’d had various exposure to music; I started piano lessons at nine, financially motivated by by my grandfather, and I was singing in church and school groups. Then I had an “American Bandstand” routine with a friend where we’d set up in my garage and one of us would be Dick Clark, the other would be the artist. I remember doing a mean Jimmy Jones on “Handy Man,” miming and dancing to the record.

I took up ukulele as my first stringed instrument – my uncle was a bit of a player. Then I moved up to guitar, at first playing folk music – Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul & Mary tunes – then going electric when the Beatles hit. And it built from there.

What pushed your interest beyond merely listening?
Like many other people, I was blown away by the American debut of The Beatles and “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” first on the radio and soon after by their Ed Sullivan appearance. I had a guitar at the time, but that was when I started paying attention to the instruments these guys were playing, and thinking about how those instruments and amps were contributing to their sound.

What was your first electric guitar and amp?
My first rig was a two-pickup Danelectro with a little Supro amp. I got it from the older brother of a friend who’d gotten tired of it. Cool guitar, although I didn’t know just how cool until many years later.

Did you take lessons on guitar?
No, I taught myself. I’d draw up chord diagrams and pick songs by ear. Later, when I worked up to doing lead stuff, it basically happened the same way. I’ve always had a good ear for stuff, and I’d visualize the fretboard and figure out where notes go. I had pretty good retention back then [laughs].

When did you first play in front of people?
Around 14, I got my first band together – The Reltneys. One of my bandmates found out it was a Cockney expression for the dominant feature of the male anatomy [laughs]! Anyway, we’d rehearse in the basement and our parents would chauffeur us around to play school dances or church gigs. We played Beatles, Stones, Kinks… mostly British stuff.

All Photos: Eddie Malluk. 1) 1956 Gibson Les Paul Special in TV finish. 2) 1952 Gibson Les Paul, refinished before being purchased by Squier. 3) 1956 Gibson Les Paul Junior.

Was was your first experience with a record label?
My first flirtation with the record business was with a band called Magic Terry and the Universe. This was the brainchild of another schoolmate, an eccentric poet who tapped me to write music to complement his epic poetic journeys. We threw the idea around during the end of our high-school years, but it didn’t really take shape until we got to college. He went to N.Y.U. and got heavily into the scene. After a couple of months, he rang me up in Boston and said, “Billy, it’s time to do the band!”

I went down to see him, and he’d just gotten signed by Jac Holzman, at Electra – he had a real buzz going around him. The Electra deal fell through for one reason or another, but we went on to record at Atlantic and Columbia before ultimately self-destructing in the way that befalls many 19-year-olds.

And then came Piper…
Yeah. Piper was basically a veiled solo effort inspired by a relationship I struck up with Bill Aucoin, who managed Kiss. Having grown up with bands as my primary influence, I gravitated toward that sort of presentation, but I was writing all the songs, and singing them… as well as playing more than my fair share of guitar. I wanted to explore the three-guitar lineup, an idea I got from seeing Fleetwood Mac when Danny Kirwan joined with Peter Green and Jeremy Spencer – what a band that was!

Anway, I’d done demos with Danny McGary, a bass player I’d known from my early New York days, and his buddy Richie Fontana, who played drums. I liked that unit, so we set about auditioning guitar players and settled on Tommy Gunn, a native New Yorker who’d played on Broadway,  and a kid from Kansas named Alan Nolan, who was kicking around the Aucoin office, trying to get a gig.

Under Bill’s tutelage, we secured a deal with A&M, and went from there. The band gave me a vehicle to start focusing my songwriting and overall direction. Ultimately, though, it wasn’t enough. We were close, but friction was developing between band members, and I was getting more confident and precise in my vision. One day I just decided that success for me would lie in becoming a solo artist, which came as quite a surprise, I must say.

Your first solo album, Tale of the Tape, garnered a good bit of attention nationally. Most artists have a special affinity for their first albums. Is that the case with you and Tale?
Yes, it was a major milestone for me. It was when I started getting comfortable in my own skin. The Piper records had a lot of good bits, but they weren’t cohesive. Side one of (Piper’s second and final album) Can’t Wait hung together quite well, and gave me a sense of what I could do. But Tale of the Tape pretty much ran start to finish. Everything started to come together with that record, which, by the way, was re-released on Rock Candy Records in the U.K., with remastering by Jon Astley, two bonus tracks, and a lot of input from yours truly [laughs]!

Who was in your touring band at the time?
I had Bobby Chouinard on drums, Mark Clarke on bass, Alan St. Jon on keyboards, and Cary Sharaf on guitar. Bobby, Mark, and Alan went on to become regulars.

After Tale, you wrote and recorded Don’t Say No, which is today regarded as a classic hard rock/power pop album. Did you have a sense at the time that the songs on it, which are now ubiquotous classic-rock material, were any different from other songs you’d written up to that point?
I did, actually. First off, I had a lot more confidence as a result of Tale of the Tape. I felt that I was in a position to make a major statement, and that people would be listening. I remember making two conscious decisions: one was to narrow the scope of my writing – I wanted the songs to really hang together as a body of work; the other was to stretch out as a lyricist, to try to create a unique voice.

As the album came together, did you have any sense that it was going to be such a success, either in terms of sales or its impact on pop music at the time?
I knew it was the record I’d always wanted to make. I didn’t know how the public would react, but I remember saying that if it wasn’t a hit, I would quit the business because I really believed it had everything on it that I had to give. So in that sense, I had a lot of faith in it.

4) 1965 Rickenbacker 330/12. 5) In the mid ’80s, Kramer approached Squier about making a guitar. The design he developed incorporated a one-piece neck and body, with P-90-style pickups wound to Squier’s specs by Seymour Duncan. The neck calibration is a composite made up from the necks of various guitars in Squier’s collection, and the finishes were based on billiard-ball colors – orange, black, white, red, and pale blue. 6) 1957 Fender Stratocaster.

Which guitars and amps do we hear on the album?
My 1960 Fender Tele Custom was really the guitar of record, excuse the pun… It’s the one you hear on “In The Dark,” “My Kinda Lover,” “You Know What I Like,” “Too Daze Gone,” and “Lonely Is The Night.” On “The Stroke” I played my ’57 Strat, and on “Whadda You Want From Me” it’s my ’56 Gibson Les Paul Special.

I don’t remember what I used on the solo for “Nobody Knows” because I tracked it a bunch of times, so the resulting sound isn’t tone-specific. It was definitely a Paul, however, and my guess would be my ’58 ‘Burst. These days, I play a ‘Burst when we do “I Need You” and “Nobody Knows,” so that makes me think I did the same on the record.

And as for amps, it’s all Marshall Lead 100 with a single cabinet with a combination of Altec and Celestion speakers. I’d put one mic up close and one out in the room, wherever it sounded best to my ear. This is a deceptively simple trick that I learned from (the album’s producer) Mack – find the spot where the amp sounds the way you want, and put a mic there. It usually works.

How do you view the album, in retrospect?
Well, 25 years is a long time… It almost seems like another life, in many respects. But I think the album holds up very well; it doesn’t sound dated. There’s magic to it, and magic isn’t something you can quantify or manufacture. The stars were aligned around that project, and you can hear it! When that happens, you have to feel very fortunate.

What was your reaction at the time to its sound being compared to Led Zeppelin or Queen?
I was very humbled by the “one-man Led Zeppelin” comparisons. They were a band of staggering proportion and incredible vision. And the Queen comparisons also made me very proud. To be mentioned in the same breath with any of those guys is a huge compliment. People do have a tendency to exaggerate, but who am I to correct them (laughs)?

After touring behind Don’t Say No, you released Emotions In Motion in 1982. That album did an excellent job of keeping you on top of the game with hits like the title track, “Learn How to Live,” “Everybody Wants You,” and “She’s a Runner.” Do you have any specific memories about the challenges of making that album?
Emotions was a very spontaneous album. Don’t Say No came out in May of ’81 and we went back in to cut Emotions in February of ’82 after being on the road through December. That means I basically wrote the record in January.

In those days, I’d catalog bits and pieces of riffs, melodies, song titles, and lyrics, and then pull them all out and cobble them together in one concerted effort. But mostly what I remember about writing those songs was not second-guessing myself. I saw what worked on Don’t Say No and decided not to mess with the formula. I was very confident at the time, and I think that shows in that there’s a bit more swagger to Emotions. You might say it was the sequel to Don’t Say No.

Do you view any particular album as your best work?
That’s a tough one – they’re all important to me. If pushed, though, I’d name three – Don’t Say No, of course, Tell The Truth, and Happy Blue.

For those who may not be aware, Tell The Truth was your last album for Capitol, and though its material was viewed favorably by critics and fans, the label did little to support it. So, what it makes it so significant to you, personally?
Truth was a pretty spontaneous record, and a return to the basics, in a way. I felt there was a unique chemistry on it, not only between (producer) Mike Chapman and myself, but the various players; I put together different groups for each song, combinations I thought would work. As a result, each track had its own particular energy, as opposed to a more uniform vibe you might expect from using the same band from start to finish. And, Mike was very supportive of my songwriting, so I pushed myself in a few different directions. In the end, everything hangs together quite well; the project had a real momentum to it, which like you said, was not carried on by the label.

And you did Happy Blue, a solo acoustic record with no overdubs, in what is now “way back” in 1998. What was motivating you by then?
(pauses)… It was unlike anything I’d done before or have done since. It came about because I just was not impressed with the trend where people who knew very little about music were making records – in droves. I wanted to make a record that required actual musicianship, and for that, I thought, “What’s more challenging than throwing away all the studio tricks, jettisoning the band, and trying to do it all myself? After all, my gifts are my voice, my guitar, and my songwriting – maybe I can put that all together in a way that calls attention to the notion that this sort of thing can still happen.”

Plus, I’d never really devoted any time to acoustic playing, so that was a challenge in itself. And when I started to throw in different tunings, it really took on a new significance; I was going places I’d never been before, and that’s the ultimate high. I really dug that!

Everything on that record is live – no overdubs, no effects – just me and a guitar. It was the most challenging record I’ve ever done, and I found myself going places, musically, that I never would have imagined. I’m very proud of it because I broke a lot of new ground by not adhering to the constraints of any particular format. I just let the songs go where they wanted to go.

And I really stretched out on the lyrics, as well. Everything has to be top-drawer when you’re working in such a minimalist environment.

4) 1965 Rickenbacker 330/12. 7) 1951 Fender “nocaster”. 8) 1960 Fender Telecaster Custom that appeared with Squier on his 1981 landmark album, Don’t Say No. 9) 1958 Gibson Les Paul Standard.

What guitars did you use on the album?
A Collings dreadnought OM-size, a Lowden, a Martin D-42, and my 1918 Gibson. And a lot of the inspiration came from the guitars.

I’d never given acoustic instruments much thought, aside from the occasional rhythm double or an odd bit of color here or there. So when I looked deeper, I really started to appreciate the nuances and characteristics of different makes and models. I shopped around to acquaint myself with acoustics, and each time I found a particularly striking guitar, it would motivate me in a specific way. I’d think to myself, “This’ll sound good in some sort of alternate tuning.” So I ended up using specific guitars for specific tunings that I created based on intuition. The fact that I hadn’t played in many of these tunings before was a bit tricky, but that, too, became part of the inspiration. I’d explore and come up with stuff as I went along. Nothing was preconceived.

Your website says that after you recorded Tell The Truth, you underwent a “less than harmonious” breakup with Capitol, then turned your back on the music business. That sounds a bit dramatic. What was going on?
Well, I always took my music very seriously and poured my life into it. As time passed and the business became more about the business than the music, I felt that music became less and less important to many of the people running the industry – the focus was on having hits and making money, not on nurturing artists and fostering creativity.

I went through four presidents at Capitol, and the last one decided I didn’t fit into his plans. So he went out of his way to drive me away. I woke up one day and said, “I don’t need this s***.” So I walked.

The whole thing was just too painful to continue my commitment to my music, when it became subject to the whim of someone sitting across a desk, determining whether I met his standard of hipness.

When did you last play a concert?
The band went out in 2001, the 20th anniversary of Don’t Say No. We played it pretty much straight through, along with a couple of other crowd favorites. And I did a couple of acoustic shows last year, based around Happy Blue. The last one was at B.B. King’s at the end of November.

Do you still play out?
I’m doing a bit more these days, and this summer I’m doing something I haven’t done since I was a kid – I’m gonna play in a band [laughs]! Ringo Starr has been gracious enough to invite me to play with his All-Starrs, so I’ll be doing that in June.

I like doing the acoustic shows a lot, too. It’s a whole different energy from the shows with the band. It’s very intimate, and as such can be a bit scary at times, but that’s also the payoff – there’s nothing between you and the audience. It really gives you a chance to communicate on a high level.

You’ve said in other interviews that these days you’re not all that involved in creating music, but “just doing things you like to do.” What would that be?
Well, I’ve become a nature fanatic. I often prefer the company of trees and plants, and I tend a fairly sizeable plot in Central Park, which is a responsibility I take very seriously. I’m very grateful for the chance I’ve been given to be a part of this community.

I also find myself taking the time to do all the things I never had time to do when I was in the rock-star biz; not necessarily big things, but everyday bits and pieces that teach me something and put me more in touch with the real world.

What are your thoughts on “The Big Beat” (from Tale of the Tape) being sampled by hip-hop artists?
That has been totally unexpected – and mindblowing. Obviously, I had no idea what lay in store when I recorded the song back in ’79, but it has taken on its own cult of personality, and I’m kind of like the Robert Johnson of hip-hop [laughs]! I think it’s very cool, but I don’t think I can claim all that much credit – after all, I just gave them a beat, and in the end, if they’re happy, I’m happy.

10) 1958 Gibson Les Paul model with original PAF pickups. 11) 1963 Fender Stratocaster (blond w/ rosewood neck).

Let’s talk about your guitars. When did you get the first guitar that would now be considered collectible?
I had a Gibson ES-335 in 1965 that I bought new. I don’t remember who or what influenced me to get it, and I subsequently traded it for something else – I used to do a lot of trading, depending on what I thought was cool at the time. And while I was never able to get a Les Paul Standard in those early days, I did follow Clapton’s route through the SG and from there into the double-cutaway Les Paul Special, of which I had two. After Derek & The Dominos, was released, I tracked down a ’57 Strat without a tremolo. It was then that I came up with what I believe to be the original expanded wiring design for this guitar. What happened was, I didn’t like having to jockey the toggle switch into those in-between positions for the out-of-phase funky sounds that Clapton was using, so I went to a couple of hot-shot guitar techs to see if they could help. The catch was I didn’t want to alter any of the original knobs or introduce anything new that would disturb the integrity of the instrument. When they couldn’t sort me out, I came up with the idea of converting the second tone control into a volume control for the neck pickup. I then wired the middle and lead pickups to the toggle switch in a normal two-pickup configuration. This enabled me to play any combination of pickups – seven in all – with no alterations to the body or pickguard. The Strats I have today are wired this way.

The guitar that’s been with me the longest at present is my ’56 Les Paul Special, which I bought in ’74.

When and how did the others come along?
My next move was to swap my ’57 Strat for a similar one with a whammy bar, in ’76. I acquired the Tele Custom for Tale of the Tape around the time I hooked up with Richie Friedman at We Buy Guitars on 48th Street. After Don’t Say No, he got me my first ‘Burst – a ’58.

I picked up my ’56 Les Paul Junior in Red Bank, New Jersey, and in ’82, Richie got me my ’51 No-Caster. Next was my ’63 Strat, which I believe came from Perry Margolof. In ’83, I was given a ’58 Burst by my merchandiser and friend, Peter Lubin, at the start of the second leg of the Emotions tour. After my original ’58 was stolen, I eased the pain by buying a ’59 from a guy in the Midwest. I also went back to Richie and picked up a ’58 goldtop that had previously belonged to Henry Gross, who previously owned my ’58 Burst. I found the ’58 Rick from a collector named Richard Heyman, in the East Village; he had a bunch of them. That must have been around 1990 or ’91. During a photo shoot in L.A. for the Truth album, I borrowed a ’52 goldtop that had been refinished in green and black, and I liked it so much that I went back to the shop and bought it. That was in early ’93.

Did you ever consciously say, “Yeah, I collect guitars,” or did you acquire them as you needed them?
If only [laughs]! I don’t consider myself a collector – I have a player’s collection. I buy the guitars I love for the music I make. They go on the road with me and are an integral part of what I do… they’re very personal. So I’ve never bought a guitar simply as an investment. If I buy something – not just guitars – that I truly feel passionate about, and it’s a quality piece, it will invariably appreciate in value. So in that way, I recognize their investment potential, but it’s strictly a bonus.

Ever trade off or sell a ‘Burst?
Who in his right mind would ever do that?

Are there any vintage pieces that have left your collection, and maybe wish you had back?
The 335 I had back in high school would be quite highly regarded today. I wouldn’t mind having that one. Of course, I still tell myself that one day my ’58 is gonna turn up.

You’ve always been a Marshall guy. Any particular reason ?
Well, Clapton has influenced pretty much all of my gear decisions. Of course, with Marshalls, you also had Jimi and Jeff and Pagey playing them, which gave them iconic status.

What amps did you use to record with back in the day?
In the studio, I used my Marshalls almost exclusively. I had them wired by this mad genius named Frank Levy, here in New York, in the ’70s. We’d hang out in the shop and tinker with them, he’d stay up all night and come in the next day and say, “Whadda ya think of this?” We’d mess around until we got what I wanted, and that has worked to this day. I also split up my cabinets with Celestions and Altecs, which gave me a bit more punch and definition without sacrificing the warm distortion characteristics of the Celestions. When I ran out of Altecs, I switched to EVs for the 2001 tour.

What are your most straight-up collectible amps?
I got my first Marshalls at Manny’s in ’69, before I even knew what a plexi was. I got my next batch in ’76, when I was putting Piper together. Dave Pastore hooked me up with those, and I still have most of them, along with some newer stuff Marshall throws my way from time to time, like the JCM 800s. But I stick with the originals almost exclusively. I’ve also got a Bluesbreaker combo that’s really fine – warm and sweet, just like the record. I’ve also got a nice Fender Deluxe from around ’52 that I keep at home. And I just picked up a Bogner Ecstasy Classic with the oversized 2×12″ cab, which I expect will be very collectible.

How did the gig come about with Ringo’s All-Starrs?
Well, Ringo first approached me back in 2001, but the timing wasn’t right for me. I didn’t really expect him to ask me again, and I didn’t want to turn him down again…

Who else is playing on it?
It’s an eclectic mix: besides me and Ringo, there’s Edgar Winter, Rod Argent, Sheila E, Hamish Stewart, and Richard Marx… whadda you think that’s gonna sound like (laughs)? Rehearsals start in June, and I’m very curious to see what we come up with.

And after it’s done, what’s in the works for you, music-wise and otherwise?
After this, it’s back to the garden – thanks for the inspiration, Joni!

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This article originally appeared in VG‘s Aug ’06 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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Gov’t Mule’s blues-based rock has never followed a formula, opting instead for an improvisational modus operandi that gives its music unique breadth and scope – a fact supremely illustrated in its new album, Shout!

An 11-song outing and the band’s first studio album in four years, the double disc – recorded at bassist Jorgen Carlsson’s Rogers Boat Studios in L.A. and at Carriage House Studios in Connecticut – twists far astray even for this band, flexing its muscle through songs that more than hint at garage rock, reggae, and prog-rock-like jams, along with its usual blend of blues, soul, and R&B.

Mule co-founder, guitarist, and creative force Warren Haynes boils it down.

“I think this is the most diverse record we’ve made,” he said. “With every record we’ve ever done, we’ve tried to make it different from the one before, but this one covers more ground and utilizes more influences than anything else we’ve recorded.”

On this run, the Mule doesn’t stretch its legs alone; apart from the stylistic diversity of the tunes, disc two features second renditions of each song with vocal turns by Elvis Costello, Steve Winwood, Ben Harper, Dave Matthews, Dr. John, Toots Hibbert, Grace Potter, Myles Kennedy, Glenn Hughes, Ty Taylor (of Vintage Trouble) and Jim James (My Morning Jacket). In each case, the voices give a stylistic twist, alter the energy, and sometimes even lend different meaning to each song.

In a band known for eschewing tradition, such a move isn’t all that surprising. Haynes admits there’s a method to the madness of Shout!. “Hopefully, the other singers’ interpretations help shine more light on them, and give more people a glimpse of what Gov’t Mule does.”
We spoke with him to learn more about the project.

Did the songs on Shout! come together differently compared to other albums?
I don’t know about “differently,” but it happened very organically. We took a year off, which helped us gain perspective and figure out what kind of record we were hoping to make, then all the material we wrote came together in a way that felt like us sounding like us. Each song took on its own personality. In a lot of ways, we got lucky with the way things fell into place.

Who did what as the music came together?
I wrote about half of the songs myself and the other half either with the whole band or [keyboardist] Danny Louis and I, and in those cases we write the music together and I write lyrics.

What’s the story behind “Funny Little Tragedy” and Elvis Costello’s guest vocal on the second disc?
I wrote that song when I was in California, working with Phil Lesh. As I wrote it, it seemed very different from anything we’d done, but I really liked it. When I showed it to the band, I said, “Hey, I’m not sure if this sounds like us,” but everybody jumped on it. So, we recorded it [late] one night, and when we listened back, it reminded us of the Attractions or the Clash. I had recently become friends with Elvis Costello and we’d been e-mailing back and forth a bit, so I decided to ask his advice on what kind of vocal mic to use to get an authentic, era-specific sound. He sent a nice note back, talking about different approaches he had taken in the studio. Thanks to his help, it worked out great, but it also kind of planted this seed that got me thinking, “Wow, it’d be nice to hear him sing the song.” A similar thing happened with “Scared to Live,” which I thought sounded like Toots and the Maytals, and again with Dr. John with “Stoop So Low.” As the songs were recorded, we were just thinking out loud about how it’d be nice to hear those guys. At some point, we became halfway serious about asking these guys to come in and do cameos, but it seemed a shame to have somebody of that stature sing a small part, so eventually we came up with the idea to have them sing the whole song. And that led to, “Why don’t we just make a bonus version of every song?”

It seemed like a unique concept; there’s nothing new under the sun, but to my knowledge nobody had done something quite like this.

There are songs sung by artists who were pretty influential to you, like the Costello and Toots Hibbert tracks, and then there are some by contemporaries like Grace Potter or Dave Matthews. Were you deliberately going for a multi-generational mix?
Not really. I made a list of who I’d like to hear sing these songs, and it just worked out that half are older than me and half are younger. I didn’t want it to be all people who were “influences,” so to speak, and I wanted to also acknowledge contemporaries I admire. In most cases, these people are friends or I have some sort of working relationship with them, but the most important part was about whose voice would marry best with the song.

Did you change the mixes on the guest vocal tracks?
Yes, the arrangements are all different, and in a lot of cases the guest-vocal versions are shorter because we wanted to shine more light on the song and the singer. The only exception is the Dr. John version of “Stoop So Low,” which is actually longer because we made a point of extending the arrangement. The Ty Taylor version of “Bring On the Music” and the Jim James version of “Captured” are shorter. The Ben Harper version of “World Boss” is also shorter, less jammy at the end.

Is there anything on the disc that might surprise Gov’t Mule fans?
A lot of it will, in some ways, because of its diversity. But anybody who has followed us in recent years would have seen us heading in all these directions. If someone had heard only the first couple records then listened to the new one, it might seem like quite a change; it has taken time to build to this because as time goes on we utilize more and more of our influences. No band or artist wants to continue doing the same thing over and over – you want to break new ground and experiment.

It’s been exciting because the philosophy behind it is based on our live performances. If you come to a Gov’t Mule concert, you’ll see a lot of types of music in a three-hour show. The album is somewhat indicative of that.

That said, what will hardcore Gov’t Mule fans most appreciate?
I think it’s the strongest record, front to back, that we’ve made. I hope the hardcore fans respond the same way a new fan would.

What gear did you use on the tracks?
For most of it, I used my ’69 100-watt Marshall plexi and my signature Les Paul. I also played my ’61 dot neck ES-335. I tracked “Scared To Live,” “No Reward,” and “Funny Little Tragedy” with a PRS SE Mike Mushok Baritone and tuned B to B.

The first three tracks – “World Boss,” “No Reward,” and “Whisper In Your Soul,” were recorded in L.A. and I didn’t have any of my gear, we were just writing and recording what we thought were going to be demos, but a few turned out so well we decided to keep them. For “World Boss,” “Whisper In Your Soul,” and “Done Got Wise” I borrowed a Komet amp from my friend, Pete Thorn. That was my first time playing through one, and I really liked it. On “World Boss” I played an Epiphone Crestwood that was hanging on the wall in the studio; for “Done Got Wise” I used an Epiphone 12-string that was also hanging on the wall. I tuned it to an open E7, which is how the song was written. I discovered that tuning by accident – I was trying to tune it to a open E and but I didn’t get the D string all the way up. I started playing, and it sounded really good. “Whisper In Your Soul” is my Les Paul through that same amp.

That’s pretty much it. I used my Caesar Diaz head on a few things and a Super Reverb on a couple of songs, but the Marshall got the most play.

Which guitar did you use for slide parts?
Usually a Les Paul. I keep one that lets me go back and forth at any given moment.

Are there any personal highlights – a favorite tone, solo, or lick?
Well, I really love the sound with the Marshall and the Les Paul on “Bring On the Music,” “Captured,” and “When The World Gets Small.” They’re very, very old-school. I had the Marshall 4×12 cab right behind me when I was playing, so I could get that feedback. That amp is really loud and sounds best when I crank it up, but I hadn’t used it in a long time. For some reason, for this record I wanted to dust it off. I really dig those sounds, but I also like the sounds I got through that Komet, and the baritone stuff is very interesting. I’d never recorded a baritone, and it’s a huge sound, especially for solos.

Which amp did you use with the baritone?
Mostly the Marshall. We set up two sounds – dirty and clean – and I’d bounce back and forth. Even a lot of the really clean sounds were recorded with the Marshall, and it sounded really cool. I like that some of the clean sounds are not completely clean – I don’t gravitate to super-clean sounds; I like to turn the guitar up and down to get that variation. The solo on “Done Got Wise” is the baritone through the Marshall, and I overdubbed that because I was in that crazy tuning and couldn’t play a solo.

Which songs did you track with a Super Reverb?
“Forsaken Savior,” and I overdubbed the solo on “Whisper In Your Soul,” which is a Firebird through that amp.

The band has had a steady lineup for five years…
Yeah, Danny has been in the band for more than 10 years, and Jorgen for about five. And of course, [co-founder and drummer] Matt Abts and I have played together on and off since 1986 – we met when I started playing with Dicky Betts.

Given that span of time, you’re obviously comfortable with the dynamics and with what each guy brings, musically…
Oh, yeah. This is one of those bands where everybody plays with their own personality, regardless of the song. We take a jazz approach to even the more-basic rock songs, and sometimes go from fairly complex to straight-ahead. But we’re always listening to each other and respond to what each other is playing, like a jazz band or a blues band. And none of us really know what we’re going play until we hear what the others play; there’s some sort of musical conversation going on all the time, and a chemistry that really works. The longer this band stays together, obviously, the better it sounds. It’s in a really good place right now.

You do some crazy things a couple times each year, like at your Halloween and New Year’s Eve shows, where you’ve done things like cover all of Who’s Next? or do a couple hours of Rolling Stones songs. Even though there’s more musical structure in those settings, does it still command everybody’s focus onstage?
Yeah, when we’re covering somebody else’s songs, we’ll focus a little more, but we take same approach to anything we do, with the interplay, because we want there to be some looseness. Most of the influences we really love had that approach – it wasn’t until the late ’70s that rock and roll started getting so part-specific.

A lot of my favorite rock and roll was made by people standing in a room, playing together. Keith Richards talks about the chemistry he and Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman had, and how unique it was when the three of them played together. It automatically sounded a certain way.

How much rehearsal is involved in those cover shows?
It depends. Sometimes we cram tons of rehearsal into a few days. But we’re trying to get smarter about it and start rehearsing weeks or months in advance. A lot of work goes into it, even if it’s a record or a band we’ve listened to our whole lives. Learning songs enough to do them justice sometimes takes a lot of work.

Gov’t Mule is finishing the summer playing festivals mostly, right?
Yeah, and with the album coming out, we’ll be busy for the following year or so going back and forth to Europe and all over the States doing tons of our own shows, shaking it up.

Are any of the guests who sang on the album going to make appearances at concerts?
Yeah, part of the plan is to see when and where we can get some folks out, and maybe get a few shows that have multiple guests. And next year is our 20th anniversary, so we want to tie it all together.

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

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Guitarist, soul singer, and songwriter Bobby Womack passed away June 27. He was 70 and had suffered from diabetes, Alzheimer’s, and cancer.

Womack’s career spanned more than 50 years. His soulful essence and music had a far-reaching influence on contemporary music around the world. His expansive catalog crossed musical boundaries, ethnic groups, and left an indelible fingerprint on rock and roll, gospel, soul, jazz, country, and R&B.

Gifted with one of the most enviable singing voices in rock or soul, Womack had the down-home grit of Otis Redding and the mellifluous fineness of Sam Cooke. He could gently caress with a beautiful melody, or scream like it was the hottest day in a black church. His career began in the early 1950s as a member of The Womack Brothers and he eventually became a protégé of Sam Cooke, who gave him his first record deal with The Valentinos.

He toured the chitlin’ circuit with Jimi Hendrix on R&B package tours, and played guitar on several Aretha Franklin albums. He scored his first hits with a cover of The Mamas & The Papas’ “California Dreamin’” in 1968, and “Lookin’ For A Love,” which was later covered by The J. Geils Band. The Rolling Stones covered his “It’s All Over Now,” and he wrote “Trust Me” for Janis Joplin for her album, Pearl. He went on to write “I’m a Midnight Mover” and “I’m In Love” for Wilson Pickett, scoring even more hits.

As an in-demand session guitarist, Womack played funk rhythms and sultry melodies on albums by Joe Tex, King Curtis, Ray Charles, and wrote “Breezin’” which became a huge hit for George Benson. “Woman’s Gotta Have It” became Womack’s first single to hit #1 on the R&B charts.

Womack could be found anywhere there was soul-stirring funkiness. He contributed to the famous There’s A Riot Goin’ On album by Sly & The Family Stone, and in ’72 wrote the score for the film Across 110th Street, which is widely considered one of the best movie soundtracks of all time.

Womack’s career began to slow due to drug abuse and the death of his brother, Harry, in 1974. In ’81, his career was revitalized with “If You Think You’re Lonely Now,” which peaked at #3 on the R&B singles charts. The album The Poet where the song can be found marked the pinnacle of his career, reaching #1 on the R&B charts.

In the ’80s, Womack fought drug addiction, and by the mid ’90s had beaten it. Through the remainder of his life, he continued to be prolific while battling diabetes, pneumonia, Alzheimer’s, and colon cancer.

He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2009, and in 2012 released The Bravest Man In The Universe. Just prior to his passing, Womack was working on the album The Best Is Yet To Come, with Snoop Dogg, Rod Stewart, and Stevie Wonder.

Womack is survived by Regina Banks and four children.

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

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