Tag: features

  • Taylor T3

    Taylor T3

    TAYLOR-T3

    The Taylor T3

    Price: $2,998
    Info: www.taylorguitars.com
    .

    Some guitar players never touch a tone knob, while others view it as the Holy Grail of guitar controls. If that sounds like you, put up your antenna and tune to the Taylor T3, a semi-hollowbody electric that provokes many tonal questions. Is it a rock axe? Jazz or blues box? A country plank? Maybe it’s all of them. Let’s take a twang to find out.

    The T3 is a made of sapele back and sides with a maple top. Its sapele neck has a scale of 247/8″ (slightly longer than a Les Paul), and sports a 21-fret ebony fingerboard with dot inlays. It has a single-cutaway design with a Venetian cut and white binding on its body and fingerboard. The nut and saddle are from Tusq, while the stop tailpiece, bridge, tophat knobs, and other hardware are chrome. Part of the guitar’s subtle Art Deco aesthetic are reflected in its very “moderne” sound holes.

    The heart of the T3’s sound are its Taylor HD humbuckers with coil-splitting functions. This is where things get intriguing. On the surface, these are excellent – capable of delivering meaty tones from clean to crunch, and all controlled by a three-way switch. Yet for you tone hounds, pull up the Volume knob and you suddenly have a full range of single-coil tones to choose from (neck, neck/bridge, and bridge). In this mode, the Tone controls act a bit differently, too: instead of a simple passive tone roll-off, it can accentuate the midrange with an extra boost. Next comes the kicker – pull up the Tone knob and you have yet another range of frequencies to explore. Taylor put another capacitor in the circuit, which is triggered by the push/pull pot. Some of the tones this circuit generates can sound like a Strat, while others resemble an acoustic guitar. More startling is the overall power and reactiveness of the T3’s Tone and Volume knobs. You might think it’s a battery-powered active circuit, but incredibly, the circuit is all-passive. It’s just done really well, providing a dramatic range of tonal colors.

    Plugged in, the T3 feels comfortable in the hand. The neck is slim yet wide, speaking to Taylor’s acoustic-guitar lineage. The body is nicely balanced and didn’t slip off the lap. Though the T3 can rock hard, you probably wouldn’t put it in the hands of a metal player; for any other genre, however, you can clearly see a niche; country guys will dig the spank of the single-coil sounds and its sparkling tonal range. It also sounds great for any manner of Travis-style, banjo roll, or claw fingerpicking. Jazzers will love noodling with the darker tone textures and experimenting between humbucker and single-coil tones of the post-war archtop era. Blues rippers will dig the attitude of the humbuckers and single-coils, as well as how the guitar sounds when you pull and pop the strings. Rock/pop players will love all of the above, plus its ability to handle overdrive. You can even simulate the clean DI sounds of an electric guitar plugged straight into a mixer, like those heard on the vaunted Chester & Lester album from Chet Atkins and Les Paul. After a while, you may lose count of the sound and tone possibilities.

    The T3 is an immaculately built semi-hollowbody that will appeal to a variety of gigging pros, studio cats, and home-based pickers, particularly to those for whom a mere quarter-turn of the Tone knob is the difference between night and day, between success and failure.


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


  • Forty Quid of Klunk

    Forty Quid of Klunk

    The H-22’s pickguard raised eybrows.
    The H-22’s pickguard raised eybrows.

    Duh-Duh-Duh-Duh-Duh, Klunk!

    It’s not the most artful musical introduction, but it was effective. And by the time a screaming Hammond organ slides in over the pounding bass-and-drums, most listeners are hooked. The song is “Gimme Some Lovin” by the Spencer Davis Group, and the 1966 record is a showcase not only for the vocals and organ of a young Steve Winwood, but the sound of the Harmony H-22 bass in the hands of his brother, Muff.

    While budget-priced four-strings are rarely given their due, the hollowbody H-22 has more than once proven a surprisingly efficient low-end tool – and made its mark on classic recordings.

    The H-22 Hi-Value was Harmony’s first electric bass, debuting in 1962 and featured on the catalog cover. The name was descriptive, if unromantic (like Kay’s Value Leader), still, Harmony was the largest student-level guitar maker in the country and this model helped make the electric bass obtainable for kids everywhere. It had been a long time coming – 10 years after Fender’s first bass and local rival Kay’s response. Kay was America’s premier upright bass maker, and in a quick reaction to this new low-end idea created the hollowbody bass in late ’52 with the flat-top/arched back K-162 Electronic Bass. The H-22 bore a general resemblance to the original, but at a much lower price – and it hit just in time for the ’60s rock explosion.

    The H-22 was well-conceived despite being built with price as a primary consideration. “The value built into it is unsurpassed!” claimed the catalog, and it’s hard to argue. A full/16″ body – thin-rimmed, flat-topped, and hollow (it almost looked like an archtop) – gave the instrument better balance than many short-scale basses. There was a lot of space between the simple wooden adjustable bridge and the tailipece, so it required long-scale strings though its scale was just 30″. And it’s hard to imagine a pickup design simpler than the DeArmond Golden Tone Indox mounted near the fingerboard; a flat single-coil with an internal magnet, it puts out a surprisingly powerful tone with plenty of definition. Indeed, the Harmony offered a much clearer sound than the upscale Gibson EB-2 and Epiphone Rivoli basses, with more output than similar Höfner, Kay, or Framus instruments. The wiring was basic but functional, with Volume and Tone knobs and a lever-activated Klunk switch for a baritone effect.

    Muff Winwood; gimme some thumbpick! “Plonk” Lane and his battered Harmony.
    Muff Winwood; gimme some thumbpick! “Plonk” Lane and his battered Harmony.

    The H-22’s oddest feature was a large white plastic pickguard that covered much of its face, with a vaguely batwing shape along the lower edge. This carried a rosewood finger rest below the strings, and both were often removed. One of the best features was the maple neck with an “ebonized” fingerboard and Gibson-style truss rod that keep it functional long after many other cheap bass necks of the era had packed it in. The instrument’s weakest point was its tuning pegs – instead of tuners with large shafts, it was given the same open-back Waverly strip units Harmony used on banjos. In this, Harmony followed Danelectro, the other notable purveyor of bargain basses.

    Overall, the design was visually similar to a Kay and Gibson, but closer in price to the Dano – a Lincoln look at a Ford price!

    In action, the H-22 was very light, handy, and surprisingly professional-feeling bass. It debuted at $95 in 1962, only $10 more than the boxy shorthorn Danelectro model and $15 more than Kay’s Value Leader 5961, which had a 24″ guitar-scale neck and felt more like a toy. Other lower-end four-strings like Danelectro’s Longhorn, Supro’s Pocket Bass, and Kay’s full-scale 5965 Pro were $150 or more. Harmony’s price rose to $99.50 in March of ’63, then $104.50 in ’65 and 109.50 by ’67. Even with the increases, the H-22 was still the best value on the market – lending truth to Harmony’s slogan, “The best you can buy… for the money you spend!”

    Harmony introduced the H-22 with this page in its 1962 catalog. The H-22 –under 40 quid!
    Harmony introduced the H-22 with this page in its 1962 catalog. The H-22 –under 40 quid!

    The H-22 was produced in fairly large quantities in the mid ’60s. Along with Danelectro and Silvertone basses, it was a popular choice to equip the first-time bassists of many budding surf and garage bands across the U.S., including the pre-“Wipe Out” Surfaris. One notable user was the San Diego combo Count 5, remembered for the 1966 hit “Psychotic Reaction.” Still, if they kept at it, many young bassists would buy a Fender or other professional-quality bass as soon as they were able, leaving the Harmony in the garage.

    However, such was not always the case across the pond!

    The Harmony line was marketed in England by Boosey & Hawkes; the H-22 was listed in ’62 at just under £40, up to £45 by mid ’65. Either way, it was one of the best values in a bass for the U.K. in the mid ’60s. Professional-level semi-hollow U.S.-made choices like the EB-2, Rivoli, or Gretsch cost four times that – even a Fender Precision was triple the price. Others in that range were mostly dodgy imports from Europe or Japan. At 31 guineas, Selmer’s single-pickup Höfner Senator was the only similar bargain, and arguably neither as good-sounding nor as hardy. Whether for economic or stylistic reasons, two soon-to-be-celebrated R&B groups embraced the H-22 and took it with them to the top of the charts – and into pop history.

    The $199 Harmony H-27.
    The $199 Harmony H-27.

    Birmingham’s Spencer Davis Group started in mid ’64, playing American R&B, and soon caught a buzz among musicians and critics as one of the country’s best unsung bands. Throughout ’65 it was tipped for success if it could just score the elusive hit single. Even at this early stage, bassist Mervyn “Muff” Winwood and the other members (including Spencer Davis) were rather in the shadow of Muff’s younger brother, Stevie. After all, the kid could sing like Ray Charles and play organ like Jimmy Smith! Still, the hits which lifted them to the top of the U.K. charts in late ’65 – “Keep on Runnin’” and “Somebody Help Me” owed a lot to the bass player’s contributions. Both were Jamaican-influenced numbers written by island expat songsmith Jackie Edwards, but the records were powered by the thudding hammer of Muff’s bass riffing under Stevie’s powerhouse vocal and trendy fuzz guitar. Unusually, the group had recorded a full LP before gaining hit status, but the two singles made them bona fide stars in the U.K. This was repeated with the worldwide breakout of “Gimmie Some Lovin’” and “I’m a Man” a year later, which made them a top act in the U.S. Both were produced and co-written by Jimmy Miller, who would go on to produce Steve Winwood in Traffic and Blind Faith, then work with the Rolling Stones. By the spring of ’67, Steve Winwood had moved on to form Traffic, bringing about the end of the original Davis band. During the group’s two-year run, Muff Winwood was occasionally seen with other basses (like a Höfner 500/1), but the Harmony remains his signature instrument, visually and sonically. The whole band was even Harmony-equipped for a while – Davis himself brandished a Stratotone Jupiter, as did Steve Winwood for a time, before picking up a Fender Jaguar (and most famously the Hammond organ).

    The H-22 was also the instrument of choice for a London band, the Small Faces, which broke on their home turf at nearly the same time. Bassist Ronnie “Plonk” Lane was nearly always seen with a Harmony – his first H-22 was the spark that ignited the group to begin with. The core of The Small Faces, considered the ultimate mod band, met when Lane went to the J160 Music Bar in east London looking for his first bass. He bought the H-22 from fast-talking salesman Steve Marriott – at “A whacking great discount!” Marriott glommed the Gretsch Tennessean Lane had intended to trade in, and the two struck up a musical rapport that would carry them through the ’60s. Marriott and Lane became the creative team that powered the Small Faces, writing and singing their increasingly sophisticated material. While they never became stars in the U.S. (despite a top 40 hit with “Itchycoo Park” in ’67) the original Small Faces are revered as one of the finest of all English pop groups.

    The 1968-’69 Harmony bass line.
    The 1968-’69 Harmony bass line.

    Thanks to a fiercely energetic stage show, their gear took a lot of abuse. The group also showed no compunction about modifying instruments. Mariott’s Gretsch guitars changed finish and hardware over time, and Lane’s H-22 took a beating. As 1966 went on, the bass lost its knobs, the pickguard became black, then went missing entirely. “The… thing to suffer is the equipment,” Lane reported to Beat Instrumental in May of ’66. “My Harmony bass has been through so much action – there were no Volume controls left and I had to turn the volume up and down with a pair of pliers. I’ve just bought another couple…. The old friend is being renovated.” Lane’s loyalty to the H-22 is unusual, but he stayed true to his first love at least until he met her posher sister!

    By late ’66, Harmony expanded its bass line to three instruments. The H-22’s price dropped to $99.50 again as it gained two classier siblings. The H-27 was much fancier; it kept the 16″/thin-rimmed form but as double-cutaway, fully arched, laminated maple hollowbody with a honey-brown sunburst finish. “Styled and electronically equipped to meet the highest professional bass tone standards,” was how Harmony announced it. The H-27 carried two fancier DeArmond pickups, each with a double row of adjustable poles in an interesting variation on Fender’s offset-bobbin idea. The strings terminated on a nifty metal bridge and tailpiece with adjustable saddles and detachable covers. There was no pickguard but two body-mounted finger rests with tortoise celluloid tops and a conventional four-knob/one-switch wiring rig. The maple neck led to a large oddly droopy Fenderesque headstock, also faced in tortoise plastic and equipped (at last!) with actual bass tuning machines. In a sign of the times, these were of Japanese origin. The H-27 listed at $199.50 – double the price of the H-22, but by the standards of ’66 still an excellent value. While it feels classier, the H-27 does not handle or balance as well due mostly to the heavier headstock and different bridge placement.

    The first H-27 in England, on display at the British Music Trade Show in September, 1966. A skinny Plonk with low-slung H-27 in 1968.
    The first H-27 in England, on display at the British Music Trade Show in September, 1966. A skinny Plonk with low-slung H-27 in 1968.

    The new model did find one enthusiastic fan – Lane bought the first H-27 into England from central London’s St. Giles Music Centre, fresh off Boozey & Hawkes’ display stand at the September ’66 British Music Trade Show. “Plonk has gone for the very first of a new line in harmony Bass guitars,” reported Beat Instrumental. This bass can be seen (and heard with a persistently flat E string!) on the band’s September, 1966, German TV “BeatBeatBeat” broadcast, available on DVD, which captures them at peak power. “The sound I want is chunky and sharp,” Lane explained, and based on this footage, he succeeded! The bass in the hands of a prominent player created a buzz, but few other pros took up the H-27. And while they are rarer than the H-22, today they are also far less sought-after.

    Also introduced around that time was the solidbody H-25, given the ungainly moniker, Silhouette Solid Body Deluxe Multi-Voice Electric Bass. This was a vaguely Fender-shaped solidbody initially built with a centrally located pickup and rocking tone switches – a second pickup was soon added. Neither distinctive or attractive as its hollowbody sisters, The H-25 was never popular and saw few professional users. At $139.50, it remained a budget instrument, but had none of the stylish look (or distinctive feel) of its hollowbody siblings. Offering little advantage over many similar imported Fender-like basses in the late ’60s, the rather warped looking (if decent-playing/-sounding) H-25 made minimal impact.

    In the meantime, the original H-22 moved through the decade with a few changes. The tailpiece, originally a block of rosewood screwed to the top under a metal cover (the same stamped metal piece seen on Gibson lap steels before World War II!) became a cheaper integral unit that performed both functions. The major change came in ’68, when the H-22 went to a double-cutaway body shape. This made little functional difference, but the classic look was lost a bit. By the early ’70s – dawn of the era of stadium volume – hollowbody basses fell out of favor. Former user Muff Winwood had laid down his upon leaving Spencer Davis in ’67, moving into production as an A&R man for Chris Blackwell’s Island Records. Among his notable production credits are Sparks and the first Dire Straits album. Ronnie Lane (no longer going by “Plonk”) stayed with the Small Faces in ’69, after Steve Marriott departed (replaced by Rod Stewart and Ron Wood). Lane’s love affair with Harmony ended as well, and he switched to Fender then Zemaitis basses. Lane left the renamed Faces in ’73, but his enduring talent and charm were much admired on the English music scene, despite an aesthetic allergy to commercial success and slow decline in health due to Multiple Sclerosis.

    The H-22 was gone by Harmony’s 1972 catalog; the other basses remained, but in an era of cheaper imports the once-mighty Harmony faced a shrinking market and ceased operation in ’75. They outlasted domestic competition from Kay, Valco, and the like, but could not compete with the increasingly sophisticated Japanese product that eventually cornered all but the highest levels of the market. The mostly forgotten H-22 became a pawnshop prize or garage-band revivalist’s trophy in the ’70s and ’80s.

    After this long period of obscurity, there has recently been a revived interest in the H-22, from younger bassists taken by its vintage sound and look. There’s even an Asian-made reissue. Somehow, the H-22’s unique visual and sonic character summons a time when the electric bass was more fun, before rock got “heavy.” Really not a bad legacy for 40 quid!


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

  • Mary Kaye

    Mary Kaye

    Kaye with her D’Angelico and Today.  BELOW  The Fender publicity photo from which the “Mary Kaye Strat” was born.
    Kaye with her D’Angelico and Today. BELOW The Fender publicity photo from which the “Mary Kaye Strat” was born.

    Most informed guitar enthusiasts associate veteran “lounge” guitarist Mary Kaye with the unique ’50s Fender Stratocaster model (blond finish, gold hardware) that has assumed her proper name as its designation.

    However, it’s ironic that she never owned a “Mary Kaye” Strat in the time that she brandished one in publicity photos of the Mary Kaye Trio. What’s more, she was an entertainer in Las Vegas in its very early days, before the Nevada locale evolved into a gigantic entertainment metropolis, and her band was at the forefront of the genesis of lounge acts

    In a recent dialogue with VG, Kaye looked back on a memorable career, and offered recollections about the so-called Mary Kaye Stratocaster and her other guitars.

    Vintage Guitar: I’m aware that your actual surname is Ka’aihue. Are you Hawaiian?
    Mary Kaye: I am of royal heritage on my father’s side – he was a pure-blooded Hawaiian. His name was Johnny Ka’aihue, and he was the son of Prince Koheo, Queen Liliokalani’s younger brother. His stage name was Johnny Ukulele, and he was known as “the world’s greatest ukulele player.” He died in 1970.

    At the age of 19, my father traveled to Michigan with the Duke Kahanamoko swim team, and met my mother, Maude VanPatten, who was a Detroit socialite; she was of Dutch and English descent. I was born on January 9, 1924. I’m originally from the “Island of Detroit!”

    Considering your heritage, did you know Freddie Tavares before he went to work at Fender?
    I knew Freddie Tavares as a part-time steel guitar player with my father’s group. I’m not sure if he was with Fender prior to our first meeting.

    What were the earliest musical groups you played in?
    I was in my first group when I was 10 years old. My brother, Norman, played the ukulele and did the lead singing. Our friend, Freddie Meyers, played steel guitar. I was playing a Martin guitar or uke… I was only singing background to my brother; I was a little too shy to sing.

    The group had no name, and the only other groups I played in were my father’s groups and the [Mary Kaye] Trio.

    When did you first start concentrating on guitar, and how did your style evolve?
    I began playing on a Kalamazoo at the age of nine, and that lasted all of two weeks, when I switched to a Martin guitar. I never really concentrated on the instrument; my style evolved from knowing the four strings of the ukulele so well, and I wanted to use the extra strings of the guitar, as well. Between that and my ear, I developed my style. I hear it all in my head.

    I played acoustic until 1949, when John D’Angelico introduced me to electric instrumentation by installing a pickup on a guitar he made for me. Later, Don Randall from Fender supplied me with a variety of Fender amps, and I continued to use them for the rest of my career. I’ve never used another brand, except at a guitar show, where I plugged into a Bad Cat amp, which was pretty nice.

    How did the original Mary Kaye Trio form?
    Musical differences with my father led to the beginning of the Mary Ka’aihue Trio, which later became known as the Mary Kaye Trio. All the members of the Trio had originally started with my father’s group.

    The group’s main asset was vocals, and that the guitar was primarily used as a rhythm/accompaniment instrument. To what extent did the guitar figure into the mix when you performed in concert, and on recordings?
    The group’s main asset was comedy. Being from a vocal era, it was a given that the vocals were an asset, but the comedy was our ace in the hole. Songs like “How Did He Look?” and “You’ve Changed” are good examples of the true comedic genius of the group.

    Our personalities, audience interaction, and communication, along with the constant ad libs, were other assets that made us who we were. The late Frank Ross, the funny man of the Trio, was the greatest comedian of our time. I’m not just saying that – it’s been stated many times by a lot of the greats in the industry. He was a mentor to both Don Rickles and Shecky Green.

    As for my guitar playing, it was our main accompaniment until we got to Las Vegas in 1950, where we added Frank Hudak or drums and Rudy Egan on piano.

    The guitar became primarily part of the rhythm section. I led, and they followed. I played on all of the Trio’s recordings.

    (LEFT TO RIGHT) Mary Kaye with fellow Las Vegas veteran Charro. Kaye with her natural-finished D’Angelico and the original Mary Kaye Trio. From the handbill poster promoting Cha Cha Cha Boom.
    (LEFT TO RIGHT) Mary Kaye with fellow Las Vegas veteran Charro. Kaye with her natural-finished D’Angelico and the original Mary Kaye Trio. From the handbill poster promoting Cha Cha Cha Boom.

    Details about the move to Las Vegas? You were there in the very early days of the town.
    While in Chicago, we hooked up with Billy Burton, who became our manager. He brought us to the Frontier Hotel in Vegas. We stayed to reduce the financial stress that traveling caused with the I.R.S.

    As for my recollection of the early days of Vegas, I’m writing a book.

    Your group was part of the genesis of the lounge act concept – that such venues developed as smaller, quieter facilities separate from the main Vegas showrooms, and were more like after-hours clubs.
    While playing our first gig in the main showroom of the Frontier, we were asked to stay over after our four-week engagement had ended. Without a room to go to, I suggested a stage be built in the bar area, and it could be called a “lounge.” Jack Kozloff, the owner, and Eddie Fox, the general manager, had it constructed immediately.

    During its first week of operation, Frank Sinatra and friends dropped $120,000 on the tables during which became known as the “dusk ’til dawn” hours. This impressed the other hotels to the point where they began to stay open 24 hours. A little-known fact was that all of the Vegas hotels operated from 6 a.m. to 1 a.m. in the old days.

    Hotels began hunting for entertainers to fill their newly constructed lounges. Not all entertainment worked, but smaller, tight-knit groups were working out better than the big bands of that time. I remember Cab Calloway and Artie Shaw didn’t do so well outside of the main showrooms.

    You must have played for or in front of many celebrities…
    Judy Garland, Marlene Dietrich, Vic Damone, Sammy Davis Jr., Shelly Berman, Loretta Young, Dean Martin, and many, many more sat in with us. Because we performed so late in the evening, entertainers were the bulk of our audience.

    One of the more notable fans of the Trio was Elvis. He’d always ask me, “Where’d ya get those grabs?” referring to my guitar playing.

    How many singles and albums did the original Trio release?
    At last count, we estimated 21 singles and 11 albums, all on major labels. There are a variety of albums with singles by the Trio on them, and occasionally some oddities turn up.

    Some have cited “You Can’t Be True, Dear” as an early – if not the first – rock and roll single by a band fronted by a female.
    The top rock producer of that time was Don Ralke, who arranged that song for us. With his name on it, it landed in Billboard as a rock tune, and was distributed to all the school jukeboxes in the U.S., along with other rock and roll singles. There’s no other listings of another female singer in the rock genre that we could find prior to this.

    You’ve owned more than one D’Angelico…
    The first D’Angelico I played was owned by my ex-husband, and was built in the early ’40s. His mother bought it for him from Mel Bay, in St. Louis. It was white, and can be seen on the Trio’s Live On The Sunset Strip album cover.

    I got John D’Angelico’s address from Mel Bay, and while in New York, we ordered a natural-finished D’Angelico with my name inscribed in pearl on the neckboard, for $495. Later on, I ordered an ebony Concert D’Angelico for $500. That was a lot of money in the early ’50s! John measured the necks of both guitars to fit my hands.
    I fell on hard times thereafter, and needed money, so I sold them. No other guitars in the world could compare to those, except for my custom guitars.

    You are most closely related to the mid-’50s blond Stratocaster with gold hardware. But it’s been reported that due to some kind of mixup, you didn’t get to keep the one you were holding in that famous Fender publicity picture.
    Guitarist Steve Gibson of the Red Caps, another lounge group we rotated with, introduced me to Don Randall. Around 1954, Don brought me a Fender guitar – not the Strat – to play onstage. Though I refused to play it, Don started bringing me Fender amps to use with my D’Angelicos. In ’55, Fender delivered the blond Strat to me, prior to the Trio going onstage at the Frontier Hotel for the famous publicity shot, taken backstage. (The guitar) was returned to Fender later that evening.

    Six months later, Billy, our manager, set up an arrangement with Fender to let me use the blond Stratocaster in a Columbia movie, and again it was returned to Fender.

    By this time, everyone was referring to it as the “Mary Kaye Strat,” and I remember Billy was upset that the guitar was returned to Fender after Leo Fender had promised it to me. We were too busy with the Trio’s career to ever look back and correct the mistake.

    I’ve since come back into contact with that same Mary Kaye Strat via the internet. Ian Ashley Hersey now owns that one, and another ’59 Mary Kaye Strat, as well.

    After hearing his CD, Fallen Angel, I became an instant fan, and we’ve since become good friends. Our relationship has led to him producing my first-ever rock CD of songs written by my nephew, John Kaye.

    So you did visit the original Fender factory in Fullerton?
    It was a small mom-and-pop shop, like a carpenter’s factory, with the floor covered in the day’s wood debris. It was what I had expected. I was greeted by Leo Fender himself; he was very nice.

    I also saw my old family friend, Freddie Tavares. I was surprised to see him there; I never knew the connection until then.

    The movie that Strat appeared in was Cha-Cha-Cha BOOM!, a musical. The Trio also appeared in another film called Bop Girl Goes Calypso.
    I knew very little about either film. I’d arrive, get dressed, get escorted to a Vegas-type stage with lots of extras as the audience sitting at tables, applauding our performances. I had a speaking part with an actor whose name I can’t remember. Do makeup, hair, do the shoot, and out.

    Neither movie was too memorable an experience. I’ve been trying to locate a copy of Cha-Cha-Cha BOOM! ever since.

    What about soundtracks for other movies, such as Boy On A Dolphin?
    The owner of Fox Studios, Stanley B. Meyers, his wife Dody, and their family invited my children and me to a dinner at their home. He mentioned he had several movie projects he wanted me to sing the theme songs for; the first was Boy On A Dolphin, then there were the title tracks for Home Before Dark and Spring Reunion. I’m not sure they were all for his studio, but he was my introduction to these movies.

    Wasn’t your biggest single, “Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb,” a novelty song?
    “Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb” was a fluke hit; I really don’t remember much about those recordings. We did nightclub scenes for other songs for “77 Sunset Strip,” the TV series, but that (song) was the biggest hit. Eddie Burns, who played Kookie, was not a singer, but was a good-looking young actor who could rap.

    Our appearances were arranged by Billy Burton. As for our biggest song, it was “My Funny Valentine,” by Rogers and Hart – that song put the Trio solidly into the recording industry.

    There were times when you were nominated for the Playboy jazz poll.
    We had no idea about the Playboy jazz polls until Billy brought me the certificate. We were surprised to be picked the winners; our collaborations with Robert Smale won us this award twice. Nelson Riddle, Frank Sinatra’s conductor, called Robert Smale one of the most talented arranger/conductors in the industry, and this proved it.

    Of all of your albums, do you have any favorites?
    A Night in Las Vegas and Jackpot! are two of my favorite albums; they have everyone’s talents showcased. Up Front! and Live on the Sunset Strip are my favorite comedy albums.

    How many are available on CD?
    I’ve seen several copies of all my material floating around the internet on CD. The labels never properly compensated us for [the recordings], and they’ve made ridiculous demands for us to recover the masters.

    How long was the Mary Kaye Trio in existence? You were seen playing a Telecaster in that phase of your career.
    All of the members of the original and the New Trio are some of the greatest musicians in the world. Ray Malus and Ronnie Douglas were with me from 1966 to ’68, after the original Trio split.

    From ’69 to ’71 I worked with Dave Sullivan on guitar, Paul Delacato on guitar, and Larry Ahuna on guitar and vocals. I played with Jimmy Caravan on keyboards, and Jone Johnson – who gave me the Telecaster – on drums, from ’71 to ’73.

    In ’74 and ’75, there was Jim Yates on guitar and Stephanie Haynes on vocals. I had the pleasure of working continuously with Nadine Jansen on keyboards, flugelhorn, and vocals, Jim Simmons on bass and vocals, and Dave Wilson on drums and vocals from ’74 through ’79, I had to retire at that time due to health reasons.

    In 2002, Fender presented you with a new Custom Shop Stratocaster – “The White Beauty.”
    I’m honored Fender presented me with such a beautiful piece of art; one of my favorite guitars ever. Not to confuse the issue, but The White Beauty was my Fender Squire Strat I played for three years, prior to receiving my new Strat.

    My nephew had been soliciting Fender for quite some time, and they responded with my new addition to the family! You can see pictures of it at the Mary Kaye Trio website. It has an inscription on the neckplate which reads, “To Mary Kaye from your friends at Fender.”

    It came with a certificate from the Custom Shop which reads “Model ‘Mary Kaye Stratocaster’, serial #MK001.” I believe this will be the only one made by the Fender Guitar Company because of an endorsement issue.

    What keeps you busy these days?
    My nephew, my daughter, grandchildren. My family keeps me on my toes at home; my granddaughters that are still at home are four and 12. That’ll keep anyone hopping!

    And as of [this February], I’ve officially been playing out in public again. I’m recording the rock CD, and am also recording two contemporary CDs of the standard nostalgic songs from my era, like Diana Krall is now doing. She’s great!

    I intend to find the more obscure hits that were just as famous as those Diana does, but less high-profile. These CD projects of the standards will showcase my guitar playing more than ever before.

    My nephew presented me with several guitars to use on these recordings. I’ll be selling my own Mary Kaye guitars made to my own specifications, and that will have to pass my standards of quality. I plan for these to be the finest electric guitars available; the main feature will be ease of playability. I’ve never had callouses from playing guitars that are set up right.

    Besides learning new songs and working on the book, I personally answer anyone who signs the guestbook on the Mary Kaye Trio website.

    You still reside in Las Vegas. How do you feel about the way the city has grown and evolved from the time you moved there over 50 years ago?
    From 1980 to ’86, I lived in the San Fernando Valley of California, creating porcelain dolls for the Mary Kaye Doll company. I moved to Las Vegas in ’86 to live with my daughter, Donna, and have been here ever since.

    The growth of Las Vegas has been sensational! It was a little town that became a city. I’m proud to be a Las Vegan; it’s the greatest city of them all!

    *For more about Mary Kayes’ Stratocaster, check out this article at www.vintageguitar.com/3255/



    This article originally appeared in VG‘s Aug. ’03 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Peter Stroud and Audley Freed

    Peter Stroud and Audley Freed

    Stroud and Freed: Chris Hudson.
    Stroud and Freed: Chris Hudson.

    Many a noteworthy rock and roll band from the Cotton Belt has been propelled by guitar-playin’ good ol’ boys with names that ring through music lore in (sometimes) poetic-sounding tandems – Allman and Betts, Collins and Rossington, Caldwell and McCorkle, Petty and Campbell, Hlubeck and Roland (or Holland!), Medlocke and Hargrett, Van Zant and Carlisi, Hood and Cooley, Richards and Baird, Haynes and Trucks…. the list, as they say, goes on.

    And sometime down the road, the names Stroud and Freed might similarly roll off the tongues of those who appreciate the sound, feel, and soul-cleansing effect two fine guitarists create when their minds meld and phalanges flail!

    Both natives of North Carolina, the musical paths of Peter Stroud and Audley Freed have crossed for more than two decades, but only recently have their personal and professional schedules allowed them to push forward their long-held hope to work together. The result, a six-piece band called Big Hat, just released a four-song EP that does its part to further the cause of rock the way it’s meant to be played.

    Independently, Freed and Stroud have enjoyed careers with plenty of artistic high points. The former was the first to get a taste of rock stardom, when in the late ’80s he co-founded Cry of Love, a rock band whose 1992 debut album, Brother, spawned a #1 hit (“Peace Pipe”) on Billboard’s Mainstream chart and put the group square in the middle of the scene – and on some of the world’s biggest stages despite the fact it swam against a decidedly grungy tide.

    Stroud’s first brush with the big-time happened in a later incarnation of the highly regarded alt-rock band Dreams So Real, which led to working with Pete Droge in the mid ’90s, and in turn to his highest-profile gig, backing Sheryl Crow starting in ’98. While Crow took time away from touring in 2000, Stroud hit the road with Don Henley, and on the 2010 Lillith Fair tour he was asked to help back singer Sarah McLachlan. After playing both sets for the first five shows, he became part of McLachlan’s touring band. Last year, he re-joined Crow as bandleader. And, he’s co-founder of 65amps, a successful – and decade-old – boutique-amp maker.

    We recently spoke with both men about their musical ventures, including Big Hat, which is fronted by vocalist/guitarist Keith Gattis and includes bassist (and Freed bandmate in Cry of Love) Robert Kearns, drummer Fred Eltringham, and organist Ike Stubblefield. All of them, by the way, now serve as Crow’s backing unit, where they’re joined by Josh Grange on pedal steel and Jen Gunderman on keyboards.

    We started with Stroud…

    You’ve been a busy guy in the nearly 10 years since we last spoke.
    Yeah! I’ve been in Sheryl’s band for 14 years now, and I’m very proud of that. A few years ago, she changed it up for a tour, which ultimately proved a good re-set for us all, and now I find I’m approaching her songs with a fresh perspective.

    Touring with Sarah McLachlan was a completely different and wonderful experience – new family, new atmosphere, new set of rules. Same goes for a stint I did with Richie Sambora last fall, which was a complete blast.

    It’s really great to be back with Sheryl, especially with this new band. Her new album is due out in the fall, so we’ll be busy for a while. It’s an excellent record.

    How long have you known Audley?
    I first heard of Audley when he had Cry Of Love. They recorded at Southern Tracks, in Atlanta – which was an incredibly cool studio that, unfortunately, no longer exists; tons of vintage mics and outboard gear, and a fabulous-sounding room – around the time I was there with Pete Droge. The engineer, Ryan Williams, was raving about them. Years later, we met when he was playing with The Black Crowes. We’d occasionally run into each other on the road, and quickly became friends. We didn’t get a chance to play together until years later, when we were both doing some recording in Nashville. There was a jam one night at Douglas Corner with Audley, Robert, and Fred, and it was soon after that I started thinking it would be great for us to put together a band. There seemed to be a connection with Audley right from the start. And once we cranked up Big Hat, it was automatic. It’s the same, playing with Sheryl.

    How did Big Hat come together?
    The idea was to team with various singer/songwriter friends to write and record a batch of songs, thinking the setting would be a different slant from what you’d normally hear with these artists. Keith is the real deal on the Austin and Nashville scene, and lately a successful songwriter for folks like Kenney Chesney, Willie Nelson, and Randy Travis. We’ll always consider it “a band” with Keith, ultimately. We’re wanting to hook up with Pete Droge next, and our plan is to release EPs of four to six songs with whomever we team up with. We have another five or six songs underway with Keith, as well.

    Last year, you brought everyone in Big Hat aboard for the new Sheryl band…
    Yeah. Things had wound down with Sheryl’s last tour and everyone in that group – which was a really cool band assembled by Doyle Bramhall, II – had moved on to different things. So, Sheryl wanted to pull together our previous guys, but I was the only one available – the rest were out with Noel Gallagher – and there was a discussion with Sheryl’s manager over how we could play a handful of shows that were already booked. I off-handedly mentioned “my band”; the next week, we rehearsed for a couple days and it felt really great. They kept booking shows, and by the end of last summer she’d made it “the band.” There was a bit of schedule juggling for a few of the guys, and Robert ultimately had to quit Lynyrd Skynyrd, which was a really tough decision, I’m sure. Fred and Josh had been touring with KD Lang – serious schedule juggling there, since KD was on tour at the time. Fortunately, it all worked out and we have a seriously killer band.

    In terms of musical style, did you envision a particular direction for Big Hat?
    None at all. I just wanted to see what would naturally happen with this bunch of stellar players coming from, in some ways, radically different musical places – Keith being from his country world, Ike on the other end with his deep jazz and R&B roots. The rest of us fall somewhere in the middle! Ike is one of the last real-deal Jimmy-Smith-style B-3 players out there. He’ll take your breath away. Plays the pedals, too.

    Who wrote the songs on the EP? 
    Audley, Keith, and I wrote the three originals. Audley and Keith primarily wrote “Feather In the Breeze” and I had brought in the general ideas for “Delilah” and “The Light.”

    Talk about the vibe of “Delilah.”
    That was the first thing we recorded, and I think I was probably referencing Little Feat. We had not played that song once as a band until we stepped into the studio. When Keith recorded his vocal, it was the first I had heard his fully realized melody and lyrics, and I was blown away.

    “The Light” is a very vibey ballad, with the B-3 and big chords going into the chorus. 
    That song fell together beautifully. It was the third one we tackled on the first day, and we were pretty high after the first two. It was late evening, so we dimmed the lights and played through it a few times. That’s Audley playing the phasered electric-guitar – one of those old Maestro units with three big switches. I played dobro and overdubbed the 12-string on the choruses. Ike’s B-3 is so beautiful on that track.

    There’s a cover of Pearl Jam’s “Supersonic.” How did that come about?
    I loved that song the first time I heard it, and thought it would be cool to cover. I’ve always appreciated how, in the late ’60s/early ’70s, everyone was covering each other’s songs; no sooner would someone like Dylan write a song before Hendrix would put out his own version. Or “Woodstock,” which was written and recorded by Joni Mitchell but became a hit by Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young at the very same time… as well as Matthews’ Southern Comfort.

    I want to make that sort of thing part of the Big Hat thing.

    How did the recording process go down? Was everyone jamming in the room together?   
    Yes, initially we were all in the same room. We had booked two days at Southern Tracks; we had never rehearsed the songs or even played together, but Southern Tracks, with Nick DiDia producing, was the perfect setting. I’ve always loved Nick’s recordings with Brendan O’Brien, so I was thrilled when he agreed to produce us. We recorded all the basic tracks together – just charted it, ran through it a few times to nail down the arrangement, then Nick would hit “Record.” By the third or fourth take, we usually had it, then we’d throw down any quick overdubs and Keith would sing whenever he felt like it. By the second song, we were all pretty excited. Keith would be laughing, saying, “I ain’t never done anything like this before!” It came together so easily. We immediately felt like we had a band.

    How did you and Audley approach the guitar parts?
    Well, we did our leads in an afternoon at Nick’s, after spending a little time to work out parts. We recorded the solos together. Keith finished his vocals on his own time, and we added extra percussion and backing vocals with other good friends. Nick mixed it during Southern Tracks’ last days.

    What does each guy bring to the musical mix?
    Well, Keith is an incredible B-bender Tele picker – he does the intro and first solo on “Supersonic.” He’s a pretty sick player, but he downplays his abilities. He’s been a solo artist for most of his career, but did a few years as lead guitarist with Dwight Yoakam. Audley and Robert go back years, having played together in North Carolina, including with Cry Of Love in the ’90s. Robert had been with Lynyrd Skynyrd up until he joined Sheryl’s band. I think his bass parts on “Feather In The Breeze” are outrageous, and he can sing like a bird.

    There’s a bond between all of us, because of our musical influences and the fact we all grew up in North Carolina.

    What gear are you using, for both the Sheryl gig and Big Hat? 
    With Sheryl, I’ve downsized a bit. Originally, I had the Bradshaw rig and a handful of amplifiers, but now I’m a big fan of the Pedaltrain pedalboards, since I’m constantly switching out pedals.
    Once 65amps cranked up, I began using the 65 London and the Monterey – London the majority of the time, Monterey for more headroom on cleaner stuff and slide.

    For Big Hat, I’m not sure what I’ll use live, but probably the 65 Empire. In the studio, I used a nice old Park 75 head for “Delilah.” It’s a ’72 and has the original Genelec KT88s; it sounds ridiculous, and is probably my favorite head. I also used a blackface Deluxe Reverb; the slide on “Supersonic” was a ’59 double-cut Les Paul Junior through a late-’60s Ampeg Gemini. I played the last part through that amp before it bit the dust – power transformer blew. I had blown the output transformer a few years earlier… and the speaker. That amp’s had a tough life!

    You’ve recently started working with Duesenberg on a signature guitar, right?
    Yeah, I’m very proud of it. It’s essentially their Dragster set up with a Multibender bridge for slide and bender tricks. We added a neck pickup, as well, and they put a really cool short-throw Tone pot on it. It’s the first guitar to replace my original old beater G&L with the Bigsby Palm Pedal. It sounds really great and you can do some cool tricks with the two bender levers, even in standard tuning. Normally, I use it tuned to open E.

    Audley Freed

    Cry of Love made a pretty big splash in the early ’90s despite being rather far removed from the favored flavor of the time. What do you think struck the fancy of rock-music fans at the time?
    Well, I guess they liked the songs. I’d say the gateway was the fact it sounded familiar, yet unlike anything else on the radio back then. For many years, most current stuff on rock radio– back when they played a lot of new music – had tons of reverb and the mixes were super-dense and compressed. Our music was pretty much completely dry and the arrangements had a lot of space. So, even though we played a pretty traditional style of rock-and-roll, it sounded fresh, and I think people reacted to that. Once listeners discovered the music, the fact everyone in the band was really good and what we were doing was honest… maybe it resonated.

    In ’97, you hooked up with the Black Crowes. How did that come about?  
    Without knowing it, I was recommended to the guys by mutual friends, which was amazing because I was a huge fan and was myself trying to figure out a way to let them know I existed (laughs)! As a result, a little while later I was asked to go to Atlanta and play an afternoon with them. We stopped one song short of the list I was given, and their drummer, Steve Gorman, said “If you get outta here now, you can beat the traffic.” I thought that was the end of it! Luckily, they offered me the gig when they started touring again the next summer. It’s a great band and I relate to their music, so I was stoked.

    I sat in with them at the Ryman last month, and they were great; Jackie Greene is a great new addition on lead guitar.

    As part of that gig, you got to spend a good bit of time onstage with Jimmy Page. What was that like?
    That was incredible, to say the least. What can a rock-guitar player of my generation say about being given the opportunity to tour and make a live album with Jimmy Page! He was, and is, kind of the guy. I never thought would happen when I was a kid staring at the Circus magazine poster!

    After that, you helped Chris Robinson…
    Yeah, I co-wrote and recorded a couple of songs on his second record, then we toured behind it. It was a great musical experience, and a great guitar gig. I was really into it and understood the styles of music we were doing – lots of improv, the songs were terrific, and we played great covers in the live shows.

    Another highlight was getting to play with and develop a friendship with the bass player, George Reiff. We’ve had a lot of musical adventures together.

    You’ve since worked with a long list of musical heavies – Alvin Youngblood Hart, Joe Perry, Dixie Chicks, Jakob Dylan, Court Yard Hounds, Kevin Kinney, Paul Stanley, Peter Frampton, as a guest with Gov’t Mule…
    It has been quite an adventure, getting to play with so many great musicians in lots of different situations and styles. Just being around that is a gift, and I learn something every time. I enjoy the fact that every situation is different on some level, and cool musical challenges are presented along the way. I’m particularly grateful that people trust me to play in very diverse musical settings and that I can make music in the mainstream, left-of-center worlds, and points in-between. I wake up every day, grateful to be able to tell young folks that dreams really can come true.

    What are some of the most-recent gigs?
    Sheryl’s schedule is pretty packed, but I do as much moonlighting as I can, mostly in town. A really fun gig I did not long ago at a club here in Nashville was a set of Big Star songs with Jody Stephens, Chris Stamey and Mike Mills. I’m such a fan, and playing those songs with Jody on drums was unbelievable. Some of the current or about to be released records I played on are Sheryl’s, the Court Yard Hounds, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Kid Rock, and Kenny Chesney.

    How did you meet Peter? 
    On a festival gig in 1999. He had just started with Sheryl and I was with the Crowes. We come from a similar background, musically, we’re close to the same age, and we’re both from North Carolina, so we had a lot in common from the get-go. We crossed paths here and there and stayed in touch, and occasionally were on recording sessions together – in fact, he recommended me for the session that indirectly led to me moving to Nashville. I have a tremendous amount of respect for him as a person and musician.

    What were your thoughts when Peter pitched the concept of Big Hat?
    Well, he had been kicking it around for a while, and I think his instincts were on the money. We got together at that jam here in Nashville and made a great sound right off the bat; everything was really natural – the writing, the playing, the recording process, everything.

    The first time we got together was the first day in the studio, when we arranged and recorded three songs. We didn’t really know what to expect, but I think it turned out okay! The songs began with demos Peter and I had done, and I can’t overstate Keith’s contributions, lyrically, arrangement-wise, and vocally. He glued everything together. Keith is also an unbelievable guitar player. I saw him one night when he was playing with Dwight Yoakam and he blew my mind. He’s the real thing.

    When Peter called to talk about the Sheryl gig, what was your reaction? 
    I was really excited, having been a longtime fan of hers – she has made some of my favorite records. In fact, her gig was on the short list of answers to the question, “If you could be in any band right now…?” I’ve been so fortunate, and couldn’t believe it happened again – here I am, a big fan of an artist, but never dreamed a spot in their band would be offered to me.

    Did he say what your role would be?  
    We agreed that we’d just figure it out as we went along, and that’s exactly what we’ve done.

    What gear are you using most lately?
    With Sheryl, I’m using my trusty Matchless Lightning head and a single-12 Reeves cabinet with a Celestion G12H. I love that amp, to me it’s kind of like a low-volume Hiwatt – it has a ton of low-end and headroom. I have used in on all the tours I’ve done for the last six years and recorded a lot with it – engineers love it, too.

    The guitars I play most on the Sheryl gig are a ’52 reissue Tele, a Jeff Senn Pomona with a Parsons B-bender, and a ’54 reissue Gold Top Les Paul on the Sheryl gig. A couple of pedals and I’m good to go. Simple set up and I like it that way.

    On the Big Hat recordings, I used a ’52 reissue Tele and the goldtop. For amps, I used a Germino Lead 55 and a 65 London. The solo on “Feather In The Breeze” is the goldtop and the Germino with an Analogman Beano Boost. On “The Light,” I used my ’65 Gibson B-25-12 string.

    Has it gone as you expected, or have there been some pleasant surprises?
    I was prepared to take a pretty straightforward, note-for-note approach on all of her material, and obviously, the signature parts and hooks need to be there. But she also seems to enjoy hearing what we bring to the songs as players, in terms of feel and improvised moments, which is very rewarding.

    I’m still marveling that I’m in a band full of close friends and favorite players. We’ve played all sorts of situations and combinations outside of this gig, and that familiarity helps us get beyond just giving a professional – but maybe boring – presentation of her material. Everyone is emotionally invested in the music and you can hear that. Sheryl creates an environment that encourages that approach, and we make a sound that’s special and unique. The opportunity to make that sound backing up somebody as great as Sheryl is pretty amazing.


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


  • Robert Randolph

    Robert Randolph

    Photo: Sam Erickson.
    Photo: Sam Erickson.

    Living testament to the versatility of the pedal-steel guitar and a rarity in pop music, Robert Randolph adroitly addresses the challenge of acting as front man of the Family Band despite mostly having to sit to play, taking command of a show by sheer force of his playing.

    Whether accompanying others or going on one of his renowned flights into sounds-you-ain’t-never-heard territory, Randolph and the band create music that is compelling, soulful, and supremely energetic.

    Randolph was introduced to music and the steel guitar while growing up in the Pentecostal House of God church, birthplace of a African-American gospel-music tradition known as Sacred Steel, which in the 1930s provided a platform for celebrated lap-steel players like “Little Willie” Eason and Aubrey Ghent, who used the instrument as a key feature in the worship service. The tradition holds true today, driven by current acts including The Campbell Brothers, A.J. Ghent (Aubrey’s son), and The Lee Boys.

    In the ’50s, Ted Beard and Lorenzo Harrison introduced the pedal steel to their House of God congregations, paving the way for guys like Calvin Cook, Ted Beard, and others who inspired Randolph not only with their skill, but with the way they adapted the sound of their instrument.
    “Lorenzo Harrison was the first to use the wah-wah with the pedal steel to create the talking, crying vocal sound we all copy to this day,” Randolph noted. “Another guy, Henry Nelson, introduced the moaning sound and played the most-precise slide parts you could ever imagine – and more soulful than anything I could play!”

    Randolph, whose parents serve as a deacon and a minister in the House of God, is firmly rooted in the tradition, but has also set himself apart by taking the form secular and broadening its appeal to fans of jam-band music, rock, and blues.

    “My grandmother used to watch Willie Eason,” he said. “Guys like him were our Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson. Still, to this day, I listen to a lot of old church recordings – those services were so electric. When people think ‘church,’ they think this or that, but our church is very rock-and-roll, man!”

    Per the tradition in the Church, Randolph and an early iteration of his Family Band traveled extensively, performing for thousands of people from the Carolinas to Michigan and Ohio to upstate New York.

    “Every time there’d be a choir program, a pastor’s anniversary, or something, we’d perform at these big events,” he said. “And we always attended their annual convention in Nashville, where we’d spend two weeks learning licks because all the original guys – the best musicians – would play there.”

    This month, Randolph and the band will release Lickety Split, their first new album in three years, and first on the Blue Note label. With many of the elements from its earlier records including “cool songs with lots of guitar,” the album aims to reconnect with what brought the Family Band an ever-expanding fan base; its 12 songs include two that honor the band’s tradition of interpretating classics, this time with re-workings of The Ohio Players’ “Love Rollercoaster” and The Rascals’ “Good Lovin’.”

    We recently spoke with Randolph to learn more about him, the new disc, and what is truly a family band – Robert’s sister, Lenesha on vocals, his cousin, Marcus Randolph on drums, another cousin, Danyel Morgan (bass, vocals), and Brett Haas (guitar, keys).

    Was steel guitar your first instrument?
    Well, I started on drums, but when I was 14 or 15, I started getting up to the steel. In the Church, steel is the main thing – you’re the big star if you’re the steel player!

    Who in the Church actually taught you to play?
    Well, two older guys from Detroit spent time with me – Calvin Cook and Ted Beard. They taught me basic things, but really, you had to learn on your own because it’s not like you actually have a music teacher. I’d just listen to cassette tapes of church services where they played; I’d sit for hours trying to emulate those guys, copying the sound, the feel – everything.

    And while your style follows much of the Sacred Steel tradition, your playing is also obviously influenced by six-string players…
    Yeah, I listened to guys like Earl Klugh to see what I could do to be a little different. One day in 1997, a cousin gave me Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Greatest Hits, and from that day until now, not more than two days go by that I don’t listen to Stevie Ray.

    Robert Randolph’s stage pedal steels, including the stand-up model he designed.
    Robert Randolph’s stage pedal steels, including the stand-up model he designed.

    What about his playing grabbed your attention?
    He’s just so freakin’ soulful, man! And precise. He’s got everything – fast licks, blues licks, with a rock-and-roll sound and mentality. There’s a respect in what he sings and plays, and it sounds so big. After I started listening to him, I’d get into arguments with [other players]. I’d be like, “Man, Stevie Ray’s better than Hendrix!” (laughs) They’d be like, “What’s wrong with you?” And to this day, I get into arguments about it, but I learned to understand that Hendrix is the originator of that style! But, playing in the Church, we couldn’t noodle around or experiment too much – we had to connect with a more-spiritual style of playing, and that’s where I see Stevie Ray’s thing.

    Your songs convey an energy much like his did…
    That’s how we were taught to play in the Church – notes and licks, be precise, and make a connection. The notes swell and sort of go into another galaxy (laughs); in church, that would be the spiritual galaxy.

    Was there any particular goal or objective while making the new record?
    Well, we’ve gone back to what we were originally doing – making music, coming up with ideas, and mixing influences and so forth. It’s very upbeat, energetic, positive, with great funk, great guitar licks. We have the collaboration with Carlos Santana… It’s a bit of everything.

    I grew up mixing influences while keeping my own background, heritage, and tradition – positive, upbeat, and inspiring music – but also, it feels very rock-and-roll and you want to dance.

    You and the band mix it up, stylistically. Do you ever find yourself staving off the perception that the pedal steel is limited?
    Let me tell you something, it’s definitely not limiting. I can do whatever the hell I want to do! It surprises other people, and actually surprises me every now and then, all the things I can do with it, rhythmically! And the great part is I haven’t made the best music or the best Robert Randolph record, or played my best stuff yet. We just finished this album and already, I’m like, “I should have recorded this” or “I should have written a song with this in it.” We’ve been making so much music that I have, probably, 12 songs we could have put on this record. So it won’t be three years before we make another one. Screw that!

    Your original songs cover a lot of ground.
    Yeah, and that forces me to do stuff that sometimes is a little out there (laughs)! It’s funny; when I was on a different label – and there were some great people there, but we’d get into arguments over music where I was like, “If you want me to be another John Mayer, man, find someone who plays a regular guitar!”

    Were they trying to get you to do something more mainstream?
    Well, not so much “mainstream,” because people think that means a guy playing on pop radio or whatever. The people who work radio for the label would say, “If you just do these kinds of chords, you could get on the radio. Why don’t you do the sort of Nickelback-meets-so-and-so?” I’d be like, “What?”

    Even more funny is how the label people would come to the studio and say, “Why don’t you try this, or try that?” I always think, “What the hell, man? Are you the producer? No, you’re the radio-promo guy!”

    Carlos Santana reinforced my attitude about staying true to myself. He said, “Don’t let anybody say, ‘We want it to sound like this.’ You gotta sound like you and let your sound transcend one person’s perspective. If you want to be known an influential guitar player, you have to stick to your roots and keep letting your music evolve.”

    On the disc, fans of the blues will dig “Blackie Joe” and “Brand New Whale.”
    Yeah, I think so. It’s funny, both of them feature Carlos Santana! I also think they’ll dig “Amped Up,” which has that energy in it. But “Blackie Joe” and “Brand New Whale” have the guitar – me and Carlos smacking each other in the face. It’s got the slide licks, especially “Blackie Joe,” where you’ve got the power chords, you’ve got everything in there!

    Often, you let other members of the band drive the proverbial bus. “Born Again” starts with you, but relies on Danyel’s bass line to get rolling.
    Yeah, and sometimes Danyel does rhythm and bass parts at the same time. He’s from the Church, as well, and a lot of times when he played at services, there was no rhythm-guitar player, so he had to learn how to carry rhythm and bass. That’s his style. In the studio, we’ll just get into something where the rhythm guitar ends up being there just for color.

    RANDOLPH_SIDE_01

    Pedal Primer
    History on Robert Randolph’s Chosen Instrument and how it’s played

    Derived from the hollowbody Spanish-style “resonator” and lap-steel guitars used to help popularize Hawaiian music in the U.S. in the 1910s through the ’30s, the pedal steel greatly expanded the sound of the “slide” style.

    The steel guitar (a term broadly applied to resonator and lap instruments) was inherently limited by the fact its strings could not be independently tuned/fretted on the fly. To address musical realities like harmonies, chord voicings, and melodic “flexibility,” steel players had to either tune between songs (thus bringing a halt to the show and potentially annoying an audience!) or equip themselves with several instruments tuned in various ways. The initial adaptation to address the issue was the simple addition of a second, third, and sometimes fourth set of strings. But, as Hawaiian music became popular by the late 1910s, players and tinkerers began to attach devices to their instruments that allowed for quick-and-easy tuning changes. In the late ’30s, Carvin, Magnatone, Dickerson, and other lap-steel builders began to offer instruments with hand-operated levers that manipulated a cam which raised the pitch of specific strings. Additionally, Tim Miller, a musicologist whose dissertation research at the University of North Carolina centered on the pedal steel, cites a patent granted in 1938 to Anthony P. Freeman, of San Francisco, for a lap steel mounted on a stand and manipulated using two foot pedals.

    About the same time, two machinists at Gibson – John Moore and Wilbur Marker – began working with well-known bandleader/lap-steel jazzer (and Gibson endorser) Alvino Rey to devise a similar system that used six foot-operated pedals for what would become the company’s new “console” steel, dubbed the Electraharp. Its 1941 patent says the instrument was intended to allow the player to create no fewer than 15 chords. Rey used the instrument to emulate the sound of big-band horns – a far cry from the way a lap steel was used in Hawaiian music and even from how the pedal steel rose to prominence in country music.

    Nearly simultaneous to Rey’s efforts at Gibson, Jay Harlin, steel player in a Hawaiian-orchestra family act called The Harlin Brothers, created a device that attached to the strings of a lap steel then connected (via cables) to a set of foot-operated pedals that were manipulated to change the instrument’s tuning. In 1949, Harlin was granted a patent on the Multi-Kord, a pedal steel guitar that employed the device.

    By the late ’40s, another machinist, Paul Bigsby, had taken on a second career as luthier (he is largely credited with the first solidbody Spanish-style guitar) and was building pedal steel guitars; Speedy West raised the Bigsby pedal steel’s profile significantly in his work with Jimmy Bryant. In 1952, a builder named Zane Beck incorporated knee levers that likewise altered the pitch of the strings of the steel guitars used by Ray Noren.

    The next evolutionary step involved Bud Isaacs, who in ’53 bought a Bigsby console steel with two pedals that allowed him to change its tuning from open E9 to A6. He used it to great effect on the 1954 country mega-hit “Slowly,” by Webb Pierce.

    RANDOLPH_SIDE

    1941Gibson Electraharp.
    Gibson Electraharp: Bill Willroth, Sr., courtesy of the National Music Museum, University of South Dakota.

    “On that song, Isaacs introduced a new style of melodic playing that helped establish an association between the pedal steel and country music,” said Miller. “The song’s breakout success – and Isaac’s playing, in particular – inspired the pedal steels designed by Leo Fender, as well as a new industry of dedicated pedal-steel makers, including Sho-Bud, Emmons, and MSA. By the ’70s, the efforts of players such as Buddy Emmons, Jimmy Day, Ralph Mooney, Pete Drake, Lloyd Green, and many others had propelled the pedal steel toward its modern form, which typically consists of two 10-string necks, eight pedals, and five knee levers.”

    The pedal steel’s strong association with country hasn’t kept it from being used in jazz and other musical forms of popular music, including the gospel- and R&B-infused Sacred Steel of Robert Randolph, who offered a basic primer on the function of his chosen instrument.

    “The pedals and knee levers serve the same purpose, which is to act as benders for each string,” he said. “So, if the guitar is tuned to E, a pedal can be used to take the tuning up or down as many as four tones. The bar can only line up straight across the strings, of course, so the pedals act as the player’s fingers to make chords.”

    An innovative player, Randolph is, like so many mechanically inclined steelers before him, a tinkerer at heart, and he has designed a steel that allows him to stand while playing.

    “The stand-up steel has pedals, but no knee levers, obviously, and it has just six strings. The first is the A pedal, which gives a VI chord, the second gives an suspended chord – it takes the G# to A. Pedals one and two in combination give a major chord without going all the way down. So, if you’re playing in A with the bar on the V chord, you hit the first two pedals to go to the IV chord.”
    Though Randolph is quick to remind us that there truly is “a lot more to it,” he says, “Those are the basics.”

    Just what we needed!

    How did you decide to cover “Love Rollercoaster” and “Good Lovin’”?
    I was looking at a list of songs and I came across the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ version of “Love Rollercoaster” and I said, “Let’s see if we can do a better version.” (laughs) And it came out pretty good. Danyel’s bumping away and he’s got his fills in there. “Good Lovin’” I also love, because of the major chords. To me, it’s almost like a gospel thing, something we would hear in church.

    Which pedal steel do you play the most?
    There’s two companies that make great-sounding pedal steels that work great, and I go back and forth because one is better for sustain, the other is better for chords and sounds better when I’m doing rhythmic stuff. One company is called Mullen [Steel Guitars], the other is Jackson [Steel Guitar Company].

    On the album, I play the rhythm on a lot of stuff – I’m a Fender Tele guy, man. There’s nothin’ like a Tele! You can get a clean, rhythmic, sort of twangy thing happening. Every time I pick one up, I want to play Sly and the Family Stone rhythm guitar!

    Do you play both pedal steels onstage?
    At a live show, I play three – those two, and I invented a six-string stand-up pedal steel that I’ve been playing for about a year. Because you have 10 or 12 strings – I have 13 – people go, “What you do with all those strings?” With the stand-up version, you get a six-string tuning, and with the pedals you can get the major, you can get the minor, you can get your seventh. The folks at Jackson Steel Guitars are making them, and a lot of players want one – Rich Robinson from the Black Crowes, Derek Trucks.

    Which amp do you use?
    I actually do a combination of Fender Super Reverb and a Vibrasonic because of the dynamics of the pedal-steel – it gets so low, but you need that midrange for the slide. I’ve been working with Fender on a custom pedal-steel amp because there hasn’t been one made for the style of playing that I do. I’ve been told by everybody from Carlos Santana to Kenny Wayne Shepherd to Eric Clapton, “You’ve got to build your own rig.” They’ve seen me go through 80 different amps because I need a specific sound. It’s all in the midrange, but I have to have high-mid, low-mid, and it can’t honk too much.

    Is that why you’re not playing a traditional pedal-steel amp?
    That, and they have all this compression, so you can’t really dig in, you know?

    Is the Fender based on one of their big, clean amps?
    It’s based on the Vibraverb, the Vibrasonic, and it will have a couple of pull functions we’re borrowing from the Peavey Special 130. It’s something like the Dumble guys do; I need mids and I need that creamy stuff… but I ain’t paying no 40 grand for a Dumble, man (laughs)!

    What kind of speakers will it use?
    Peavey’s Black Widow. People go, “What?” But it’s funny, on the Hendrix tour there was every guitar, every amp, 50 players with custom rigs, and I went through this with the Los Lobos guys, Jonny Lang, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Steve Vai, Joe Satriani… After I played through the Black Widow, they’d go, “Okay, I see what you’re saying…” Then I’d plug into a Celestion cab or some other speaker and they’d go, “Whoa!” With the Black Widow, I get a rounder sound that works great for my instrument. It gets the whole “thing” happening.

    You’re known for using effects pedals. What’s in your signal chain?
    I have this pedal called the Waterfall, which is a cool reverb/chorus. It’s made by Jam Pedals, a small company out of Canada. I’ve got 10 of their pedals and they all sound great.

    How did you connect with them?
    Well, we were doing the Experience Hendrix tour, and they brought all the effects for the 30 or so players to check out. They’re analog and fit the sound of my pedal steels perfectly. They make the best freakin’ phaser ever, man! I’ve spray-painted a lot of my pedalboard stuff black, so I forget the names… I don’t want people stealing my sounds – you know, the guitar people who stand in the front row and take pictures of your rig!

    What kind of wah are you using?
    A Crybaby 535Q. It’s the best because I can really dial in the Q and the wah effect – I can talk with that thing, man! Don Was, the legendary producer, said to me, “Man, it was mind-blowing watching you play, especially when you put the wah on. It sounds like somebody talking!”

    So, if you could jam with Stevie Ray, which songs would you want to play?
    Ahhhhh… (pauses)…. I would want to play “Lenny.” That song is just a soulful frickin’ thing, and me and him could go at it, slidin’ and playing around chords. And “Texas Flood.” Those two. Because Stevie kills “Texas Flood.” It’s like, “Man, I need to be in there with him!” (laughs), doing all the moaning stuff while he’s pickin’.

    How would you arrange it?
    Oh, he’d start the first line, “Well, it’s flooding down in Texas,” and I’d come in with somethin’ low [hums a melody, simulating the sound of the steel]… “All the telephone lines are down…” [hums another lick]…

    …do a call-and-respond with his vocal?
    Yeah. With his vocal and with his guitar, because he’s doing that whole mixture of the Albert King thing and his own original stuff, so I’d just be doin’ the low-midrange, moaning along with him.

    Speaking of, what role does a “regular” guitar play in your band?
    Well, in the Sacred Steel tradition, the rhythm guitar is played almost like reggae. Without a rhythm player doing the [makes a chop-chord sound], the music is just not complete. I’m used to that, but because of my rock-and-roll mentality and the way we stretch out, I’ve sort of learned to not really need it. But still, I sometimes like to hear a rhythm guitar so I can slide around those notes and have that space.

    You’ve jammed with a lot of big names. What are some of your highlight memories?
    Well, jammin’ at the Beacon Theater with the Allman Brothers, playing Madison Square Garden and Royal Albert Hall with Eric Clapton. Both of those were just great. And any time I get with Carlos Santana, it’s just magic. Things happen, especially live. And that’s one of the things people will hear more because there are a few songs Carlos and I did in the studio that are just mind-blowing – me and him just going at it. We’ll release those as B sides or album exclusives in the months to come.


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


  • Doobies, Brothers

    Doobies, Brothers

    Tom Johnston and Patrick Simmons
    Tom Johnston and Patrick Simmons

    American music rarely is more pure than when it comes from the minds, hands, and mouths of the Doobie Brothers.

    An uncommon mix of talent, the Doobies have, since their inception, been fronted by two musicians with unique voices and distinct guitar styles, each of which has driven the band’s sound from Tom Johnston’s huge lick and vocals on “China Grove” to Pat Simmons’ fingerpicked turn on “Black Water.” Truly, the Doobies’ sound encompasses many influences, yet defies categorization. It is what it is – rock and roll.

    And few bands, regardless of whatever success they achieve, survive four decades. But the Doobies have, and earlier this year released their 13th album. Replete with the vocal harmonies, notable guitar tones, and simple-yet-elegant arrangements and production that have earned it a huge and enduring following, it was welcomed by fans and a broader pop-music audience.

    The Recording Industry Association of America (R.I.A.A.) says the Doobie Brothers have sold more than 30 million albums since 1970. And while numbers are swell, the Doobies are more about riffs, hooks, and songs that have become ingrained in the American musical consciousness.

    We recently spoke with Tom Johnston and Pat Simmons, two of the band’s founders and artistic guides.

    Tom Johnston
    His parents were Dixieland buffs; his father a devout listener and his mother a pianist who, every so often, would entertain the family by playing a ditty or two. The influence helped tune his ears to music, but its impact paled compared to the day his brother brought home records by Little Richard and Bo Diddley. Less than 10 years old at the time, the sounds emanating from the turntable truly rocked his world.

    Did those Little Richard and Bo Diddley songs ultimately inspire you to pick up guitar?
    Well, Little Richard knocked everybody back. I like Elvis Presley, but I don’t think he was the guy. I also like Jerry Lee Lewis and Bo Diddley, but don’t really consider Bo rock and roll – he’s more blues and had his own rhythm section, which nobody else was doing. So when I picked up a guitar, that’s what it was all about, basically (laughs)! But Freddie King and Jimmy Reed got me to start playing in ernest.

    What was your first guitar?
    It was a broken archback Harmony with three strings missing (laughs)!

    Could you even form chords on it?
    I didn’t learn any chords, no. But I learned to play Jimmy Reed riffs like “Big Boss Man” and “Take Out Some Insurance,” then I got the rest of the strings and started playing other stuff. I don’t even think I learned a barre chord until I got a single-pickup Kay about a year and a half later. That was my first decent guitar.

    Did you take lessons?
    No, I learned everything by ear and experimentation, mostly because I played clarinet and saxophone through my freshman year of high school. The saxophone was cool, but I absolutely loathed the clarinet. At the end of freshman year, I packed that thing up, stuck it in the closet, and told my parents, “I’m not gonna play this damn thing again. That’s it!”

    So guitar became my sole focus for expressing myself, and by the time I was 15 I’d learned how to play a barre chord thanks to a friend named Bill Crenshaw. I took it from there and learned by listening to blues players starting with Freddie King. By the eighth grade, I knew how to play “Hideaway,” which you had to do if you wanted to play in a band! Then I moved on to B.B. and then Albert King, who’s the most lyrical electrical blues player I’ve ever heard.

    So, your bands were mostly playing blues?
    Blues and R&B. I was also a complete nut for Little Richard and a huge James Brown fan – still am. I saw him in 1962, after Live at the Apollo came out, and it was a life-altering experience – beyond my comprehension that somebody could move like he did, and all the stuff – dropping on his knees and a guy throwing a cape on him. It was something else for a white boy from Visalia!

    Tom Johnstons Guitars
    Johnston’s mid-’50s Stratocaster (left) has been in his collection since the ’70s.
    This 1970 Deluxe has been Johnston’s primary Les Paul for 40 years.
    This 2008 PRS Custom 24 is a touring backup to his ’09 25th Anniversary Custom 24 (right), which has a Modern Eagle inlay on the headstock and 57/08 pickups. Tom Johnston/guitars photos: Tyler Habrecht.

    Which of your early bands came closest to being “real?” Was it Pud?
    Pud was kind of a transformational band. One week, we’d play power-trio stuff like Cream or Mountain, and the next we’d be playing soul with background singers and a horn section. It was all over the map, with different players every week except for John Hartman and myself. It’s amazing how much happened in a short period – how many bands, how many gigs, how many musicians I met. It all happened while I was an art major at San Jose State and wound up living at 285 South 12th Street, which was kind of a musical center for San Jose. It didn’t matter if they played B-3 or drums, guitar, bass, or horns, they all ended up in our basement; John and I lived in a house for about four years, and once Dave Shogren joined us, we had the nucleus of the original Doobie Brothers.

    What do you remember about meeting Pat Simmons?
    I was playing with Skip Spence, who was one of the members of Moby Grape; Skip introduced me to John Hartman, and one night, Skip, myself, John, and eiteher Greg Murphy or Dave Shogren – I don’t remember which – played a show with Pat, who at the time was also playing with a guy named Peter Grant, who played banjo… Pat played acoustic. And we were knocked out by how good they were. Pat is an incredible fingerpicker, and they were playing folk/blues type stuff, and some bluegrass. We were playing rock and roll. So it was an interesting evening. Afterward, we asked Pat to come over and jam. He did a few times before we asked him, “Would you like to start a band?”

    So, did the Doobies then have a permanent lineup?
    Yeah, but when we started, we didn’t have a name until we had to play a gig one night. We were saying, “This sorta sucks… we need to think of a name.” Keith Rosen, who was my roommate in the house, suggested we call ourselves the Doobie Brothers. We said, “That’s stupid!” (laughs), but we didn’t have anything else, so we used it.

    And why, pray tell, did he suggest that one?
    Well, because of the lifestyle in the house (laughs)! Back then, we used to tell people we got the name from watching “Romper Room,” but I don’t think anybody bought it!

    What are some of your fondest memories from the early days of the Doobies?
    A lot of the music made in the basement. Skip was always around; we’d spend hours practicing and writing. Pat would write a song and I’d write a song, and we’d sit with the other two guys and work them out. We played with no intention to get into the music business as a profession. I studied graphic design in college, and that’s what I planned on doing, but Skip got us into Pacific Studios, where we did our first demo, which was sent to Warner Brothers, and on the strength of that demo, the band got signed. That’s when everything started moving forward. Until then, we played shows around the Bay area, every place we could, sometimes two or three shows a night, from San Jose to as far as Fremont. And I’d have to say some of the shows were absolutely part of that era and what was happening in the South Bay area only at the time. A great example would be the Chateau Liberté up in the Santa Cruz Mountains, which was truly one of the wildest places I’ve ever played with a combination of “mountain people,” Hell’s Angels, and students.

    You and Pat were the songwriters in the band. Was that by design, or just sort of organic?
    That’s just the way it was. We basically wrote whatever came to mind and brought it to our rehearsals to work up. I was playing a lot of acoustic guitar at that time, which helped me come up with my rhythm style; I tried to figure out how to play guitar and drums at the same time on the one instrument, so that’s what my “chucka chucka” thing is all about. All the rhythm structures behind “Long Train Runnin’” and “Listen to the Music” were sort of written on an acoustic guitar, then I applied them to electric. Pat was writing both pickin’-style stuff and straightforward rock tunes. Then we’d figure out complementary guitar parts, harmonies, and lead-guitar parts for each tune, along with drum and bass parts.

    Did the band set out to write radio hits?
    We mostly weren’t thinking that far ahead in those days… well, John was, but the rest of us were content. We were having a hell of a good time, first of all, and that was a large part of it – we were having a lot of fun. We really enjoyed playing and some of the places we played were just flat nuts. So it was very entertaining! We were entertaining people, but we were being just as entertained by the people who were watching as they were being entertained by us playing!

    Places like the Chateau Liberté, for instance, where we had what we used to call “mountain people,” combined with hippies, combined with college students, combined with Hell’s Angels. It made for a really interesting crowd. And everybody was pretty bombed most of the time, as I recall… I’m talking about the crowd here – the band might have been stoned, but the people we were playing for were gone. It was always wild.

    Were the Doobies alone in having that sort of mass appeal to various audiences?
    No, not at the Chateau. So many people played out there – Hot Tuna, Mountain Current, Chris Raimey, and a lot of others. It started gaining a better reputation when Hot Tuna played there.

    What do you remember about the band picking up steam in terms of popularity beyond California?
    Well, because the first album didn’t have much success, the thing that got us going was “Listen to the Music,” which was on our second album, Toulouse Street.

    What do you recall about writing your first hit, “Listen to the Music”?
    I was sitting in my bedroom, banging on acoustic, and I called [producer Ted Templeman] at three in the morning with chord changes to that song pretty much finished. I even had a lyric idea, which was unusual for me – lyrics were always the last things I did, and I think I came up with a lot of it all at once.

    And when did you first hear it on the radio?
    I remember first hearing it in my Volkswagen – we were pretty much living on foodstamps and brown rice, paying 40 bucks a month rent and playing as many gigs as we could. But when that song hit, we started getting a little bit more money for gigs, started playing organized shows, and started becoming a professional unit. Then “Jesus Is Just Alright” came out, then “Rockin’ Down the Highway,” both from Touluse Street. And then The Captain and Me came out the next year and had “China Grove” and “Long Train Runnin,’” which was a jam song we played every night even though we hadn’t written words to it – I’d make them up every night and the song would take on the names of “Rosey Pig Mosley” or “Parliament” or whatever the heck else! I finally wrote actual words to it. I finally wrote words in Amigo Studios in L.A. after the track was completely done.

    When you write a song it, do you hear a melody in your head first?
    Sometimes it’s the chord progression or a rhythm structure and chord progression. I’m kind of a rhythm guy, so I always write with that part in mind. But about 15 years ago, I started writing songs using computer software, which allowed me to go places I never could when I was just writing on a guitar or piano, where you’ve got chord changes and the rhythm idea, then you go into the studio and work up parts for the song – bass, drums, Pat’s part… This allowed me to flesh-out the song with rhythm and lead guitars, keyboards, lead and backround vocals, B-3 parts, any string or horn ideas, and drum loops. It’s a complete widening of the writing process.

    For our new album, I actually wrote three songs on keyboards, and the rest were on guitar… one on slide guitar, which was the first time I’ve written on slide.

    What do you remember about writing “China Grove”?
    “China Grove” was also written in my bedroom on 12th Street, and involved another early-morning call to Ted. I came up with the chords – the bow bow… I didn’t have the repeat on the opening chords – the Echoplex came later, in the studio. But I grabbed John, who was asleep – he wasn’t real happy about it (laughs) – and I said, “Let’s go downstairs, now!” I plugged into the amp and started slammin’. He dug it, I dug it. So we went in the studio with the chord changes and the rhythm structure, and I really owe Billy Payne for the words because he played this wacky (sings a portion of the keyboard melody Payne played on the song’s bridge) that started the thinking process with this wacky sheriff, samurai swords, and all that.

    How about “Rockin’ Down the Highway”?
    There’s not a huge story behind that; I just liked the chord change and built around that, combined the bridge and, like a lot of songs, found other chords to to enhance so it’s not just a straight I-IV-V. It mostly wrote itself, including the words, which is always the most fun. When that happens, to me, somebody else is doing the writing and you’re just sitting there, channeling it.

    The same thing happened with “A World Gone Crazy” on the new album. I just sat there, and don’t know where it came from.

    “A World Gone Crazy” has a very old-school Doobies feel, so that makes sense…
    It’s a New Orleans feel. This band has been influenced by that city a great deal, both Pat and myself – Fats Domino and Lee Dorsey, Professor Longhair, Dr. John, Allen Toussaint, the Meters and the Neville Brothers – all those guys from New Orleans on the radio. Theirs was a very distinctive sound, like Stax/Volt had a very distinctive sound. I absolutely loved it. I wasn’t aware where it was coming from. I didn’t get to New Orleans until 1970, but when the band first played there, everybody was blown away – by the music, the food, the feel of the town. You walk the streets or ride the street cars out to those old type cemetaries and everything’s got Spanish moss hanging off of it… it’s another world. And I’m still writing about it, so obviously, it had a huge impact. I wrote a couple of songs about it, and for Pat, it was the impetus behind “Black Water” and “Toulouse Street.”

    Speaking of “Black Water,” did you play guitar on that song?
    No, I didn’t play a note on that song. I just sang on it. That wasn’t unusual in those days, actually – you could say the same thing about “China Grove,” Pat didn’t really play on that song, I just went in and layered guitars. “Black Water” was an unusual song – a place we’d never really gone before, with that round in the middle with the singing. Obviously, we’d been using fingerpicking for awhile but, but not with that kind of a rhythm behind it. It was pretty cool.

    Through the years, the Doobies have undergone their share of personnel changes. Who do you see as the key players in various eras?
    Well, initially, we were a good band, but we played too fast and we were a little sloppy. I think when Mike Hossack came in, we got much better in the rhythm section; he was a really good drummer… But then he and Keith Knudsen switched bands, and Keith was a great dummer, as well. And having Tiran Porter on bass made a huge difference.

    After that, there was a lot of players, like Jeff Baxter, who added great guitar ideas and, of course, Mike McDonald, who changed the sound of the band’s musical style. There were other drummers – Chet McCracken, who took John’s place when he left, John McFee on guitar and vocals, Bobby Lakind on percussion and vocals, and Willy Weeks on bass at different periods.

    In late 1975, you took a hiatus…
    Well, I had a bleeding ulcer and ended up in the hospital, so I couldn’t tour. But I went out with them in the spring of ’76 for the album Takin’ It To the Streets, and then stayed with them until ’77, when we were working on Livin’ On the Fault Line. I had four songs ready for the album, but I pulled them off and said, “I have to go for a while,” and I left the band in ’77 to get away from the road scene. Because basically, we were either on the road or in the studio all the time. There wasn’t any time at home, and I’m a homebody. So, I left. And all I did was play baseball and lift weights. I didn’t really pick up a guitar for about six months, then I started slowly drifting back into it. That led to the two solo albums I did, Everything You’ve Heard Is True, in ’79, and Still Feels Good, in ’81.

    You’ve played a pretty wide range of guitars through the years. Back in the day you played a Les Paul goldtop, an SG…
    I’ve got that 1970 goldtop sitting right here. It was the first thing I bought when we got some front money.

    Were you much of gearhead back in the day?
    I wasn’t educated enough to be a gearhead! As far as amplifiers, guitars, and stuff, I didn’t have the money to go out and get this, that, and the next thing. I was still mostly playing my ’55 Bandmaster, but – just to show you what a gearhead I wasn’t – I bought an Ampeg SVT and a Stratocaster. If you want to hear “terrible,” try a Stratocaster through an SVT. It just wasn’t working!

    Johnston Martin
    (RIGHT) Johnston uses this Martin Doobie 42 signature model on tour. It has Indian rosewood back and sides, Engelmann spruce top, ivoroid binding, pearl herringbone trim on the top and soundhole, ebony bridge with pearl hands making the “OK” sign in the wings, and a bound headstock with an inlaid Doobie Brothers winged insignia.

    But it got good and loud…
    Oh god, it was definitely loud! In the confines of the 12th Street basement, it was deafening. Which is why my hearing is what it is today – almost non-existant! Thankfully, I discovered the Ampeg V4 not long after that, which was an incredible guitar amp.

    I went back to that basement years later, and couldn’t believe how much it shrunk! It had a ceiling height of roughly six feet, maybe six and a half. It was cement and it was dinky. It seemed much bigger back when we crammed so many people in there. Drums, amps on 10… Man, it was loud!

    Did you get the SG for any particular reason?
    I had an SG Special before I got the Les Paul. My first good guitar was a 335, and I ended up getting rid of it early on to get a J-50, and I can’t remember why that happened, but it did. So the next good electric I got was the SG Special, with P-90 pickups, because they were inexpensive. Then, when we got some front money from Warner Brothers, I bought the Les Paul, because I’d always wanted one. In time, I switched to the SG Standard with humbuckers, because it was so much lighter than the Les Paul and you could get up higher on the neck more easily. I used both for recording quite a few songs on many albums, along with a couple of other Les Pauls with humbuckers.

    Later, I ran into a B.C. Rich Seagull, and I’ve been seeing that thing in more old videos, so I guess I played it more than I thought! I played that on the road and in the studio… and I also had an L-5 solidbody at the time.

    Which guitar did you use on “China Grove”?
    That was the SG Standard, and I think I ran it through either a Bandmaster or the Bassman with four 10s.

    How’d you find the Explorer?
    There was a place in Mill Valley called Prune Music, and every year they’d have a guitar show. People from all over the Bay area would come there buying Flying Vs, Explorers, Les Paul Juniors, Firebirds, old Stratocasters – anything you could imagine. And they sold Mesa equipment when Randy (Smith, founder of Mesa/Boogie) was just getting started. So at any given time, I would have 20 or 30 guitars sitting around the house that I absolutely had no use for (laughs)!

    I did play the Explorer a lot, as well as the Flying V, but not until the late ’70s. I also played the Firebird a lot; I got it from Johnny Winter. That was a killer guitar, but unfortunately, it was stolen.

    Which of those do you still have?
    None. The L-5 was stolen when somebody broke into my house in Fairfax, stole that and the J-50, which I had used to cut everything acoustic up to that point. I think that was late ’75.

    When did you start playing PRS guitars?
    I picked up my first PRS in 1985 – the year they came out – and took it on a U.S.O. tour I did with Kansas, David Jenkins from Pablo Cruz, a band called Red Seven, and Leon Medica, who was the bass player from Le Roux. I took the Explorer and that first PRS. Shortly thereafter, I bought another PRS that became my go-to guitar. I’ve been using PRS guitars ever since.

    What did you like about PRS guitars?
    It was no great secret that PRS was a combination of Les Paul and Stratocaster – that’s what they were about. I was playing the 24-fret version rather than the 22-fret, so I could get pretty high on the neck. The fret width isn’t the same as an SG, but the weight and balance is great. And it wasn’t as heavy as a Les Paul. I could do more on it than I could with a Strat. And of course, the pickups in those days – everything was hand-wound and they changed all the time. Every time you put on a new guitar, the pickups were different.

    I bought a few more PRSs around ’89 when we got the band back together and did Cycles. I started playing several PRSs, and just never stopped. I just retired one I’d been playing for five years, and started playing a 25th Anniversary Custom 24 with binding on the neck and a headstock with a Modern Eagle inlay. The pickups are 57/08s, they’re just incredible.

    On the video for “World Gone Crazy” you’re playing a Tele…
    It was the only thing available (laughs)! We did the “performance” footage in Printer’s Alley, in Nashville. Originally, we were going to do the video in New Orleans – I wanted to do it in the French Quarter and get people from the area to be characters in it. Instead, we ended up playing a big event for Wal Mart in Orlando as part of our distribution deal, then we were in Nashville for a week, doing press and everything, and played the Grand Ole Opry, which was a once in a life time experience I’ll alway treasure.

    So we did all the performance footage in Printer’s Alley. The guitars were borrowed, and he had no PRSs; John was playing a Strat, Pat was playing a 335, and I was playing a Tele, which seemed to fit seeing as how the song was released to country radio. I don’t play Fenders a lot, but they have a distinctive sound that works well for rhythm on certain tunes, like “Old Juarez” from World Gone Crazy.

    Do you use the same gear live and in the studio?
    Not necessarily. If I have access to my guitars on the road, I play PRSs. But amp-wise, for four or five years now, I’ve been using two Fender Super Sonics – one for rhythm and another dedicated to lead. For the studio, I have a wide assortment of amps and guitars, including the Super Sonics.

    That’s a nice amp.
    It is. It sounds really good and screams with the PRS. It works really well. Lately, I’ve also started using the new PRS 2 Channel H amp for soloing, and man, that is a great-sounding amp!

    Pat Simmons
    Though his father knew a few chords on guitar and his grandfather played the violin, two older sisters and a record collection left to his family by a friend were key to Pat Simmons’ introduction to pop music – Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Ricky Nelson, Elvis Presley, Bill Hailey, and some R&B all combined to inspire him at the age of just eight years old.

    Did any particular artist inspire you to pick up a guitar?
    Well, my friend across the street actually inspired me to pick up the guitar. We moved to a new neighborhood in Los Gatos, he invited me over one afternoon. His mother had a Harmony archtop – she and his dad had a country band. It was a nicer model, with a glossy finish. And I flipped when I saw it – an instrument I’d seen Ricky Nelson, Elvis, and Chuck Berry play on television. I put it on my knee, and he taught me a G chord.

    After that, I had an incredible desire to play guitar. I’d go to his house every day.

    Did you get a guitar for your ninth birthday?
    Actually, I got it for Christmas the next year! It was horrible, with a 2×4 for a neck – it was, literally, untunable. I don’t think there was a brand name it; it just said “Made in Mexico.” But it looked cool, and I played it for a couple of years.

    What was the first song you learned to play?
    “The Crawdad Hole” (sings melody…“wanna go fishin’ in the crawdad hole,” laughs)! Finally, for my birthday one year we went shopping for a better guitar.

    What did you get?
    A Harmony classical. I started taking lessons from a lady in San Jose who was a traditional folk player. At her house, I saw a stereo system made from a kit her husband assembled. And she had Josh White, Pete Seeger, and Appalachian folk records. She wanted to teach me traditional American songs. She played a nylon-string guitar, so she suggested I get one. That’s how I ended up with the Harmony.

    Simmons Guitars 01
    This ’62 was Simmons’ first Stratocaster, and set him down the path as a “Strat guy.” This ’82 Westwood was built by Simmons’ guitar tech, Joe Vallee. It has been on every Doobies album since 1990. Simmons bought this ’34 National when the Doobies reunited in ’89. “Living in Hawaii, I’m more appreciative of its wonderful motif.” This ’22 Gibson L-4 was given to Simmons by a friend for whom he posted bail. Pat Simmons/guitars photos: Nadav Benjamin.

    How did things progress from there?
    In junior high, I saved money and bought a Silvertone, and I’d plug it into this cheap tape recorder, cross the output and input signals, and sound would come out the recorder’s speaker.

    If I was playing with somebody else, I’d borrow an amplifier. We learned to play charts and instrumental stuff like the Ventures’ “Walk Don’t Run,” “40 Miles of Bad Road,” “Rumble,” and “Night Train.” That was my introduction to playing electrically.

    What was your first band that gigged?
    The surf bands I played in were short-lived, but we played at my school and at parties a couple of times. My first real band happened in high school and was called The Unrelated Brothers. I had friends who were part of the psychedelic scene and we were into the stuff coming out of San Francisco at that time – the first Jefferson Airplane album. We did some Byrds songs because I really liked that stuff. The other guys were more into the Stones and the Beatles.

    Did you do any original music?
    Not with the band. I actually played in a club when I was 15, in Saratoga, and did some originals. It was a coffee house kind of a thing where I’d make five or ten bucks in a night doing what I loved to do. I also hung out a lot at a place where Jorma Kaukonen played, and I really loved Jorma’s music. So, at 16 or 17, I was watching these real masters. Jorma is one of the masters of blues guitar – a fabulous player. Watching him play had a huge impact on me.

    I continued to play into my college years, and always had a gig. I had been influenced by Chet Atkins early on, and heard John Renborn, and began to experiment with my own guitar instrumentals, open tunings, and different fingerstyle techniques. The only unfortunate part was my parents were not supportive of my lifestyle; it was the late ’60s and I was hanging out in San Francisco…

    What do you remember about first seeing Tom Johnston and the guys in Pud?
    At the time, I was playing with Peter Grant, who played banjo and for years was Hoyt Axton’s steel player. We played the north coast of California, and one night we were playing a gig at the Gaslighter Theater, in Campbell. They had hired Hot Tuna, and asked if we wanted to open. But when Peter and I walked in, Hot Tuna wasn’t there. I asked, “What’s going on?” The owner said, “Skip Spence, from the Moby Grape, is gonna play. He’s got a band with another guy.” Well, Skip showed up as we were finishing our set, followed by John Hartman, Tom, and bass player Greg Murphy. So they walk in with their amps and set them onstage. I was very curious to see what was gonna happen. Well, they started playing and Skip started doing what he did – kind of spacing out onstage. But the other three were playing their hearts out; Tommy was playing and singing, and they did some original tunes. I was blown away. I thought, “Wow, this guy can really sing and play.”

    When they finished their set, I walked up and asked Skip, “How’re you doin’?” He said, “Hey, Pat. Let me introduce you to the guys.” So he introduced me to Tom and John, and they said, “We saw you playing, you guys were great.” Then Tom told me, “You gotta come by the house. Bring your guitar, and we’ll jam.” But I didn’t go over. I don’t know why, but I didn’t.

    Then, one day I was standing in my yard, and up walks John. He goes, “You gotta come by the house, man. We’re trying to put a band together. It’s me and Tom and we got another bass player, and Skip’s gonna play, and maybe Peter Lewis (another member of Moby Grape). We want to do some harmonies and some cool guitar interplay.”

    So, a few days later, I went by. There was no jam going on, but Tom and John were there and we played some acoustic guitar at a table in the backyard. We played for hours, jamming on some of my tunes and some of his stuff.

    That was how we started getting to know each other, musically. After that, I’d go over every so often with my Epiphone Texan with a DeArmond pickup – my acoustic was also my electric! I wasn’t sure I wanted to do the same thing they did; they were doing Cream stuff, Who, and some things Tommy had written that were pretty heavy rock at that time. So I wasn’t really sure about it. Finally, he called and said, “We have a gig, we’d love to have you play a gig with us. We need somebody to sing harmonies and play rhythm.”

    So, then we started rehearsing, and we’d go three or four days in a row to get a couple sets. We didn’t have a name, but one of the guys living in the house said, “You guys smoke so much pot, you should call yourselves the Doobie Brothers!” We said “That’s really stupid.” But we needed to call ourselves something, so the Doobie Brothers were born.

    From there, we kept gigging. And we really connected with audiences from the get-go. Within any community, there are two or three bands people talk about, and we ended up being one of those bands. There was something there from the beginning that we didn’t really recognize.

    But you probably recognized some chemistry…
    We knew we had something cool. Most bands might have one guy who can really sing and one good guitar player, and everybody else was kind of excess baggage. But we had three singers – myself, Tom, and the bass player at the time, Dave Shogren, whom I went to high school with. So we had three-part harmony – the John, Paul, George thing. Tom, likewise, understood that great harmony singing and great guitar playing brought something extra to a performance.

    So your role was to go side by side with Tom’s guitar playing, be the primary harmony singer, and let Tom be the “front man?”
    I think so. Tom would defer to me a lot because he wanted to have somebody else do some songs, he didn’t want to have to take on the entire load. I had written several different country songs and had been doing a lot of covers anyway, so I took up as much slack as necessary. The band’s dynamic has always had us singing harmony for each other and taking turns on lead vocals, likewise with solos and so on.

    As the Doobies rolled through the ’70s racking up an impressive array of hits, what were the high points for you?
    The most recognizable high points, for me, involved touring with some people we really admired. Our first tour was with Tracy Nelson and Mother Earth, with John “Toad” Andrews and Bob Arthur, who’s a great blues guitar player and a vintage-guitar addict. Later with Lynrd Skynrd, Steeley Dan, Rod Stewart and The Faces, The Stones, Huey Lewis, Chicago, Little Feat, Alabama… man the list goes on and on.

    Another interesting point was when we backed Chuck Berry! At one point, every band in America has done that (laughs)!

    How did that go down for you guys?
    Pretty much the same way you hear it does with every band. He abused everyone a little – told us all how terrible we were playing and how if we didn’t lay back, we’d have to leave the stage. Then, when we thought he was coming back for an encore, he left us standing there by ourselves in front of the audience.

    When and where was your Chuck moment?
    At a college in Chico, California, I think it was.

    Were you using the Doobies name at the time?
    Yeah, we played a set and then he came out. I had listened to every song on his greatest hits album over and over, and they’re pretty simple songs, but there are subtle things you’ve got to figure out. I also learned that he always plays in F or B flat (laughs)! Of all the horrible keys for guitar players! It was interesting, and of course he doesn’t play the songs like the original arrangement.

    Who was responsible for getting the first decent electric guitar in your hands?
    I saved and I bought a guitar from a bartender at The Chateau, a club in Los Gatos where we played our first paying gig. He said, “I’ve got a Gibson I think would be good for you, and I’m lookin’ to sell it.” It was an ES-330 and I bought it for 200 bucks. He let me pay over time, so every time we played The Chateau, I’d give him money.

    Was it a big change, going from your acoustic to the 330?
    What I had been using was working fine. It was just hard to play solos high on the neck on the acoustic. And the guys would have to turn down a bit when I soloed because I could only turn up so much before it started to feed back (laughs)! Once I started using the 330, they didn’t have to turn down.

    Simmons Guitar 02
    This ’66 Epiphone Texan was Pat Simmons’ primary guitar before he joined the Doobies, and until he bought his first electric at the band’s urging. He used it to write and record “Black Water,” “Slippery St. Paul,” “Larry the Logger,” “South City Midnight Lady,” “Slack Key Soquel Rag,” and many other songs.

    Tom is credited with writing most of the band’s songs, but “Black Water” is your baby. What’s the story behind that song?
    I was into folk blues, and had that riff (sings the fingerpicked melody) – kind of a lazy delta blues thing – to start. Soon after, I was in the studio, recording a part, and while they worked on something in the booth, I start playing that riff, just tweaking around. Our producer, Ted Templeman, said, “What is that? There’s something about that riff that’s really cool.” So I continued to play with it. Shortly after, we were playing some shows in New Orleans when the song started to come to me. I think it was all the wonderful experiences – the food, walking along the Mississippi, the French Quarter, Dixieland music in the clubs. For instance, I wrote the second verse while riding a streetcar up St. Charles Street to the Garden district to do my laundry. It was raining – one of those summer showers where it’s sunny. It was a magical moment for me. So I jotted down the lyrics. “If it rains I don’t care, don’t make no difference to me, just take that streetcar that’s going uptown.”

    So, inspiration came in bits and pieces…
    It’s always kind of been that way for me. I don’t sit down and say, “I’m going to write this kind of song, or that kinda song.” I either come up with a musical idea that’s suggestive of something like a rockin’ riff and rockin’ lyric, or something more plaintive or sensitive.

    What other Doobie riffs are yours?
    I played at least something on most of songs… “Long Tain Runnin’” has a signature kind of lick Tom and I do together.

    Yes, that one sort of defines the interplay between you…
    I think so. But I usually try to find something that works in that manner. On a lot of tunes, we play similar riffs. A good example is “Jesus Is Just All Right,” and on “Rockin’ Down the Highway” I’m playing pretty much the same kind of riff. I play banjo on “Listen to the Music” (laughs).

    How did that happen?
    We were working on the song and I thought, “What if we had banjo here?” I knew it was off the wall, and I’m not really a great banjo player, but wondered what it would sound like. Ted looked at me sideways when I said it (laughs)! He said, “What? Nobody plays banjo on rock and roll records!” But he was always cool about letting us try stuff, even if we didn’t use it. So I gave it a try, and afterward he said, “Man, that’s so cool.” So we kept banjo on the chorus.

    Who do you see as the key players in the evolution of the Doobies?
    Well, of course, Tom and Mike McDonald. But Tiran Porter is an under-appreciated hero – such a great bass player, and key in so many hits. He’s not afraid to step outside the basic pattern if needed, but he can certainly get in the groove so you get that low-end that propels the song. Willie Weeks played for us near the end of the first era, and he’s obviously a great player, as well. He was really key to what we were doing. John McFee, in the latter era, when Mike was in the band, became a key player, and continues to be. John is a fabulous player, super-talented, and an imaginative guy on multiple levels. He can play guitar, dobro, fiddle, a little banjo, a little mandolin, and he’s a great singer, as well.

    Which guitar do you play most onstage?
    I have three Westwoods I play quite a bit. They were built by Mark Brown, and he gave me exactly what I was looking for in terms of neck profile, the neck joint, and the body, which is ash, I believe.

    I also play a koa Strat-style guitar built by my guitar tech, Joe Vallee. When we’re not on the road, he works at the Roberto Vinn School of Lutherie, in Phoenix. and he used EMG pickups with active electronics and a Washburn vibrato just like the guitars Mark built for me. Joe’s a fabulous craftsman, and has helped me create a wonderful amplified setup using a Mesa Mark Five for my live shows with the Doobies.

    You own a handful of nice vintage instruments, including a Gibson L-7.
    I bought that in New Orleans right after Hurricane Katrina. I had heard so many horrible stories, I thought “I’m going down there and spend some money to support the local economy.” So I went into a music store, looking at guitars. I had always wanted an older Gibson archtop to use in the studio, so bought the L-7.

    It plays pretty well?
    Plays like a dream, and sounds great. It’s a funny guitar because the pickguards off-gas, so I have to keep cleaning the frets and replacing the strings, but it’s worth it.

    Have you recorded with it?
    I used it a little bit on the last album; I used it on “I Know We Won,” which I wrote with Willie Nelson.

    How about the ’34 National?
    I stumbled across that guitar in a vintage shop in Texas. It was set up for fretting, as opposed to a slide. It’s a great guitar – sounds good, plays good. And it’s so beautiful – it’s one of those guitars I just like to sit and look at. I used it on “I Can Read Your Mind,” from Cycles.

    National resonators are pieces of art.
    Yes. It’s got the Hawaiian-motif engraving.

    How about the Gibson L-4?
    That has a much more interesting story. I had a friend in Las Gatos in the early days… I was into motorcycles, and got to know this hardcore biker through a mutual friend. Eventually, he moved away. But one day years later, I got a call. “Pat? This is Dave.” I said, “How’s it going, Dave?” He goes, “I’m in jail and need to get out so I can get back to work so I can pay an attorney.” I thought, “Well, he’s a good guy.” So I sent him bail money – then didn’t hear from him for about 10 years, until the Doobies were touring again in the early ’90s. We pulled up to a gig in Denver, here’s this guy standing in the parking lot, holding a guitar case. He goes, “You remember me?” And I go, “Of course,” He said, “I’m here to pay you back. I don’t have any money, but I got this for you.” So he opens the case, and here’s this Gibson. I’m thinking to myself, “I’d rather have the money.” But he’s really enthusiastic. “I got it especially for you,” he said. “It’s a fantastic guitar. I showed it to Taj Mahal and he really wanted it, but I told him I’d promised it to you.” I told him, “I’d really rather you sell the guitar and give me the money. Pay me 10 bucks a month if you want.”

    Finally, though, I relented. So he went backstage while we played the gig. But at some point after the show, he disappeared with the guitar. Gone! I asked, “Did anybody see Dave?” Well, years go by again before we’re back in Colorado, and there he is again, with the guitar. I asked him what happened at the previous gig, and he goes, “Somebody came over and asked to see my backstage pass. I didn’t have one, so they threw me out.” Anyway, he gave me the guitar.

    How many years passed between when you bailed him out and when you finally got the guitar?
    Twelve, maybe 15. He passed away last year, I believe. Quite a guy.

    How about the ’61 SG?
    The SG I bought years ago. We were on the road with Pablo Cruz, playing in Chicago, when Dave Jenkins, myself, and Cory Lerios, the keyboard player, drove to a vintage-guitar shop in DeKalb, where I bought that one and an Epiphone Texan similar to the one I already owned.

    I had never owned an SG. But Tommy had one in the early days and I always liked it – loved the tonality. I also loved the stuff Eric Clapton played with an SG, and Pete Townshend played one and I always loved his tone… Carlos Santana played one and I loved the tone he got.

    I played it a little on the road, but the tuning instability bothered me. I did use it in the studio because I love the sustain and the tone those P-90s get. There’s something about the sound of those pickups on particular guitar that’s kinda unique. It’s different from a Les Paul Junior. I still love that guitar. You can hear it on “Dependin’ On You,” on Minute By Minute.

    And your ’62 Strat?
    I got that from a friend in Santa Cruz. I had never owned a Strat and thought it would be good to have one in the studio. It sat for a while, then while we were working on Minute by Minute, I started using it. From then on, I was a Strat guy. I played that guitar for a while, but recognized that it was collectible, so I went to Mark Brown, but that guitar was the beginning of Stratocasters for me.

    Simmons Guitars 03
    Simmons bought this ’61 Gibson SG Special (left) in the mid ’70s because he wanted a Santana-like sound. “It was so fun to bend those strings and feel the Latin soul ooze from the frets! It’s just a great blues instrument in the Les Paul Junior tradition. Growing up, I [saw] many great players use this kind of guitar, and I never forgot how good it sounded.” This early-’70s ES-335TD was Simmons’ main guitar for more than a decade. Bought after the Doobies got an advance on their first album in ’73, Simmons says it was “my dream guitar and… could cover all the bases.” It was painted to match an Indian motorcycle Simmons owned and he used on it on every Doobies album through 1982.
    Simmons bought this ’48 Gibson L-7 in New Orleans just after Hurricane Katrina.

    Do we hear it on any prominent guitar parts from back in the day?
    I used it on a lot of stuff – Minute By Minute, most of One Step Closer, “What a Fool Believes,” maybe, the chorused guitar part on that song. I’m sure I used it on “Real Love.” It became my go-to guitar. I was still using the 335 kind of equally, on both albums.

    You mentioned the 335…
    I played that particular guitar from around the time we were doing What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits – the mid ’70s. Like I say, I had a lot of other 335s, but that became my favorite. It started out as a 350 stereo, with the Veritone. It played well and I changed the pickups and threw that crazy paint job on it. I told the guy I wanted it to look like my 1941 Indian motorcycle. It was another of my go-to guitars from ’75 up to ’83.

    What’s the story with its white Volume and Tone knobs?
    Those are something he found to give it a ’50s look.

    The headstock is darker than the body…
    It was on display in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for a long time, and I think the headstock didn’t have as much light hitting it.

    That’s a shame.
    It is. Originally, it had a sort of Gretsch orange color, but when I got it back, it was almost pink.

    Next, we have the ’66 Epiphone Texan.
    There was a guy who played folk blues around San Jose when I was 15 or 16. He played a Texan and I loved its tone, I loved the look of it, and I loved the feel of it. He let me play it a couple times. One day I went to a music store and they had one. A friend from high school was working in the store and gave me a good deal. That guitar has been my companion forever. I’ve played it on every album we’ve ever made. It’s my buddy.

    Do we hear it on “Black Water”?
    Yes, it is the guitar on “Black Water.”

    Are the stickers on the case the real deal, or were they applied for cosmetic purposes?
    They’re holding the vinyl on (laughs)! I started putting stickers on it as the vinyl started peeling off. But it has been around the world.

    How did the new album come together?
    We had been thinking about doing an album for a long time, but kept getting offers to tour, so it kept getting put on the backburner. In fact, we were getting ready for a tour at a rehearsal hall in L.A. when, lo and behold, in walked Ted Templeman. He asked, “Are you guys writing or doing any recording?” We said, “We’ve been writing and talking about recording, but we haven’t started.”

    We gave him some demos and he came back and said, “I love some of these tunes. Would you be interested in going in with me to lay down some tracks?”

    That was the beginning the album. We went to John McFee’s studio first, laid down a few tracks, then went to Sunset Sound, where I think we laid down 11 tracks in 10 days.

    There must have been some pent-up creativity.
    I think so. For the most part, we were set to go so that by the time we got to Sunset Sound, so we knocked ’em out pretty fast. The first single was “Nobody,” which was a track from our very first album that we re-recorded. We weren’t going all-out to make a big hit out of it – it was more a signature song. We wanted to reintroduce ourselves after being away for so long. It had the iconic sound we were known for, with the rhythmic guitars, fingerpicking, the harmonies we’ve employed throughout our career.

    We also did a video that included footage we filmed in the early ’70s, used as a montage with current stuff.

    Was the first single, “World Gone Crazy,” targeted at country radio?
    For the most part, yes, which made me scratch my head because it wasn’t a typical country song. But it really connected with our audience – that 40-to-60 age bracket. They don’t listen to Lady Gaga, they don’t listen to rap. They listen to classic rock, adult contemporary, and country, which has shifted gears into a more pop category.

    Speaking of, what was it like being on the “Crossroads” show with Luke Bryan?
    That was fantastic, and a great opportunity to connect with not only a younger audience, but the country audience, as well. And Luke really gets our music. He sang with conviction and I don’t think he felt funny about what he was doing. And we felt the same about his music. And Luke is such a talented guy – great songs, with great playing.

    There’s a lot of country music these days that uses rock-and-roll rhythms combined with country lyrics.
    Absolutely. And I’m one of those guys who likes it all.

    The second single, “Far From Home,” spent a good bit of time on the Top 20 adult contemporary chart. What was the band’s reaction when it charted?
    It kinda blew our minds. It was not an obvious track to release as a single, in my opinion. But I think it’s one of the better songs I’ve written. We were pleasantly surprised it charted, and doing the video was really cool. It was appropriately done, and reflects the contents of the song. It’s great to have a new album, and some new music to perform for our audiences. We’ve been getting a great response to the songs in our set, and I feel we’ve added to our legacy, and gained new fans along the way.


    You can receive more great articles like this in our twice-monthly e-mail newsletter, “Vintage Guitar Overdrive,” FREE from your friends at VG. “Overdrive” also keeps you up-to-date on VG’s exclusive product giveaways! CLICK HERE to receive the FREE Vintage Guitar Overdrive.


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


  • Ronnie Wood’s ’69 Hiwatt 100 DR103

    Ronnie Wood’s ’69 Hiwatt 100 DR103

    Photos: Val Rothwell. Amplifier courtesy of Jack Wright.
    Photos: Val Rothwell. Amplifier courtesy of Jack Wright.

    1969 Hiwatt 100 (Model DR103
    Preamp tubes: four ECC83
    Output tubes: four EL34
    Rectifier: solidstate
    Controls: Normal Vol, Brill Vol, Bass, Treble, Middle, Presence, Master Vol
    Speaker: four Fane 12s
    Output: In excess of 100 watts RMS.

    HIWATT10004

    The written history of British guitar amplification tends to trace the rising importance of power and volume through the 1960s, and the efforts of makers such as Vox and Marshall to increase their outputs to meet the needs of guitarists of the day. Rather than having to grow with the times, like so many, though, Hiwatt was born loud. Really loud!

    The “stack” already existed in the mid ’60s – if barely – when Dave Reeves founded Hylight Electronics, the original manufacturer of Hiwatt amps. So he never had to evolve from small combo to large combo to arena-sized rig, as did so many other makers. Virtually from the start, Hiwatt aimed straight at the virtues of efficiency and volume. To get there, Reeves blended painstaking technique, original designs, and top-notch components in the name of creating serious professional performing tools. Even the styling tells us these amps meant business; they weren’t dressed to be the star of the show, but to stand unassuming at the backline, supporting the star of the show.

    Just one artist amid a growing list of notable British guitarists who appreciated what Hiwatt had to offer, Ronnie Wood epitomized the professional that Reeves aimed to please. After stints with the Jeff Beck Group and other projects, Wood jumped in with the Small Faces in ’69 to fill a void left by the departed Steve Marriott, alongside replacement singer Rod Stewart. The change marked the band’s transition from “Small Faces” to “Faces,” a simplification represented by someone’s effort to rub out the “Faces” from the stencil on the side of the head shell. This Hiwatt DR103 Custom 100 was built for the band by Reeves in ’69, in the small garage of his house in New Malden, Surrey, when Hiwatt was a one-man operation. After training at Marconi and Mullard, Reeves worked for Mullard in the mid ’60s, and built amps for Ivor Arbiter’s Sound City music store in ’67-’68, but was developing his own Hiwatt designs all the while. By the time the familiar black-and-white block logo appeared on the amps in late ’66/early ’67, Reeves had already established the meticulous wiring techniques and an obsession with quality in all facets of the manufacturing process – characteristics that would help Hiwatt amps stand out from the pack (and which Reeves would insist on maintaining even as the company expanded and wiring work was jobbed out to Harry Joyce after 1971).

    HIWATT10005

    Inside of this amp are ultra-neat, efficient wiring runs and sharp right-angle turns, evident even to the untrained eye. And while Hiwatts might look rather like impressive “copies” of the better-known Marshalls, Reeves’ designs were all his own, and never borrowed from Marshall’s repertoire the way that, for example, Jim Marshall had borrowed from Fender to launch his own amp production. In short, everything about Hiwatt amps was engineered to take the signal efficiently – and in grand style – from input to output, making it bigger- and better-sounding at each stage, and squeezing as much juice as possible from the four EL34s that powered the tone to well beyond the amp’s 100-watt rating. Being essentially a custom amp, particularly in the early days, Hiwatts often displayed features added at the customer’s request. This one has a rare half-power switch (on the back, beneath the road crew’s handwritten “Lead 2” legend), presumably intended to reduce the DR103’s blistering volume levels for studio use. The Master Volume on the front is another innovative feature adopted by Reeves years before it appeared on any Fender or Marshall amps.

    This Hiwatt is owned by Vintage Guitar reader Jack Wright, who purchased it several years ago from Paul Tribe in the U.K. In a recent letter to Wright, Tribe relates the “collector’s dream” scenario of finding the amp himself a few years before. “It was in a pub in London, and had been used as a small PA with two horrible little speaker cabs. After I bought it, and before it was unpacked, the guy said, ‘Oh, it has some stencil on it – I hope you don’t mind,’ And I didn’t! I had it about five years and it nearly did a full circle when Woody’s guitar tech asked me if I might sell it, as he wanted an older sound again for a new album, but I didn’t want to sell it at the time.”

    HIWATT10003

    Wright found the matching – if somewhat more road-weary – 4×12 speaker cab some time after buying the head, purchasing it from an owner in Texas who had acquired it from California. It wasn’t unusual for touring British acts to sell off the heavier (and less prized) components of their rigs at the end of the road, rather than paying to ship them back to the U.K., and Wright speculates this Hiwatt might have landed on the West Coast at the end of a Faces’ tour in the early ’70s.

    As for the sound, this immaculate example of an early DR103 head offers everything a player would hope to hear in a great Hiwatt.

    “Those who say pedals are required for a Hiwatt to crunch have never listened to this amp,” Wright said. “It has a very bright, euphonic distortion and a tight low-end when cranked with vintage Fanes, compared to the darker, looser, more aggressive distortion familiar to Marshall users. The moderate crunch I hear on Faces and Rod Stewart albums would by no means be a stretch for this amp unaided by pedals or slaved Fenders. In fact, the sound is somewhere near a cranked Fender but without a trace of mud or raspiness – and really, really loud.”

    As a bonus, somewhere between touring with Ronnie Wood and belting out quiz-night questions in a London pub, this DR103 head appears to have resided in the backline of short-lived British band Krazy Kat (previously known as Capability Brown). With guitarists Tony Ferguson and Grahame White, Krazy Kat toured with Genesis and Peter Gabriel in the mid ’70s, and released the albums China Seas and Troubled Air in ’76 and ’77 respectively, before fading into the prog-rock night.

    Born in an era when it had to be loud to be heard, and rising quickly to the top of the heap for both volume and full-bore tone, the Custom Hiwatt 100 is simply an unabashedly powerful performer, as this historic head can no doubt attest.


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

  • Peavey Forum Basses

    Peavey Forum Basses

    Peavey Forum AX

    (LEFT) Peavey Forum and the (RIGHT) Peavey Forum AX. Photo: Bill Ingalls, Jr.

    In his 2003 book, American Basses, author Jim Roberts noted that for all of Peavey’s innovative offerings in the 1990s, “…the company hadn’t forgotten their regular customers,” specifically citing the company’s mid-’90s Forum as a “good old meat-and-potatoes bass.”

    The Forum series did indeed exemplify the builder’s efforts to adhere to founder Hartley Peavey’s mantra of “quality equipment for working musicians at fair prices.”

    Debuting in ’93, the Forum bass looked like a lot of other instruments – basic Fender P-Bass silhouette, “P/J” pickup configuration, etc.

    Its neck was made of eastern maple, bilaminated to keep it rigid and measuring 11/2″ wide at the proprietary Graphlon composite nut. The fretboard was rosewood, and had 21 nickel-silver frets. The neck joined the body at the 16th fret on the bass side, 19th fret on the treble side.

    The body was poplar finished in polyester/urethane. The pickguard, bridge, etc. were also generic, and controls consisted of two Volume and a master Tone; no muss, no fuss. An active circuit variant known as the Forum Plus was also available.

    Within two years of its launch, the Forum underwent a makeover, perhaps to differentiate it from other basses in the market… including other Peaveys.

    In ’95, the basic Forum became a one-pickup active instrument, with a neck measuring 1.7″ at the nut and a body, the catalog said, “…constructed from the finest Swamp ash or Alder,” with a slight modification where the cutaway horns were lengthened to add greater balance.

    The large, rectangular pickup was Peavey’s new and powerful VFL Plus active unit (which had originally been designed as a passive model), and was, like earlier Peavey models, “harmonically placed.”

    “I used the old T-40 to start, then changed it to an active type for VFLs,” Peavey designer Mike Powers said of his work on the model.

    The three knobs on the second-generation Forum controlled Volume, Treble, and Bass; the two Tone knobs had center detent.

    The two-pickup Forum AX had two harmonically-placed VFL Plus pickups, and appropriate controls – master Volume, a rotary pickup blend, and concentric Bass and Treble.

    The control layouts differed from the Forum to the Forum AX; the one-pickup version has its knobs mounted on the “tail” of the pickguard, in allusion to the P-Bass, while the two-pickup model’s controls are mounted in a chrome plate, a la the Fender Jazz Bass. Pickguards on both were usually three-layer, black/white/black.

    Powers recalled that the circuitry in the revised Forum basses was analog, powered by two 9-volt batteries, and described in owner manuals as “an active high/low pass shelving circuit.” Centering the Tone controls meant pickup response was flat. Rotating the Treble clockwise from center increased all frequencies 255 Hz and above, while counterclockwise rotation decreased the same range. The notion also applied to the Bass control – clockwise rotation increased frequencies 96 Hz and below; counterclockwise rotation decreased frequencies in that range. The owner’s manual summarized that the use of such circuitry “…translates into an audible cut/boost of 12 decibels.”

    Bridges on the second-edition Forum and Forum AX were also different – the single-pickup bass still had a standard-looking bridge, while the two-pickup model’s bridge was unique and aesthetically sharp.

    “The massive ABM bridge on the Forum AX is machined from a solid block of brass… and offers the ultimate in adjustability. String height, intonation, and spacing may be adjusted to fit literally any playing style,” the owner’s manual boasted.

    A five-string model, the Forum 5, was offered in the new configuration. It had a four-plus-one headstock silhouette and was otherwise a five-string version of the Forum AX.

    Peavey had other basses in mind for the late ’90s and beyond, including the Millennium and the neck-through Cirrus, so the Forum series was discontinued just after mid decade.


    This article originally appeared in Vintage Guitar magazine September 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Gretsch Jet Firebird

    Gretsch Jet Firebird

    1959 Gretsch Jet Fire Bird
    1959 Gretsch Jet Fire Bird

    Given the number of jet-related model monikers in Gretsch’s 1950s and ’60s catalogs, one might get the impression the company built airplanes. There were the flashy “fighters” like the Duo-Jet, Silver Jet, and Jet Fire Bird. Then there were the sturdy, reliable “tankers” represented by laminated archtops like the Corsair and the seldom-seen Jet 21. On the “commercial” side were the Jet Airliner, Jet Mainliner, Jet Twin, Astro-Jet, and the Roc Jet.

    The single-cutaway Jet Series debuted in 1953 with the Model 6128 Duo-Jet, finished with a black top. Clearly intended to compete with Gibson’s 1952 Les Paul model (whose shape it very closely resembled) the Duo-Jet started as an imitator. However, by ’54, Gretsch began to forge guitars that were unique, visually, and had a sound all their own thanks to their DeArmond pickups. At a time when  few guitars were adorned in anything other than sunburst or natural finishes, Gretsch outfit many of its models with dazzling colors and cool-looking appointments. The company quickly outflanked the Les Paul by expanding the Jet Series to include the sparkle-top Silver Jet (Model 6129) in ’54 and the flashy Oriental Red Jet Fire Bird (Model 6131) in ’55. Next to glittery silver and red, even the gold-topped Les Paul looked a bit tame. Three other instruments without airplane-sounding names were introduced at the time – the Western adorned Round-Up (Model 6130) and Chet Atkins Solidbody (Model 6121) in ’54/early ’55, and the spectacular white-and-gold sparkle of the White Penguin (Model 6134) in ’55.

    The Jet Fire Bird first appeared in the company’s 1955 Guitars For Moderns catalog. The flashy little semi-solid was the only production-model Gretsch to feature the vibrant Oriental Red top (the only others were the guitars specially built for Bo Diddley). The perfectly contrasting ebony black finish on the back, sides, and neck, combined with the chrome-plated hardware, offered a strong visual statement! Gretsch touted the Jet Fire Bird as being “for the progressive guitarist.”

    A 1957 Gretsch Jet Fire Bird with a 1946 Dickerson M.O.T., 1957 Gretsch Electromatic, and a 1958 Fender Deluxe amp.
    A 1957 Gretsch Jet Fire Bird with a 1946 Dickerson M.O.T., 1957 Gretsch Electromatic, and a 1958 Fender Deluxe amp.

    1957 was an exceptional year for Gretsch, in general, and for the Jet Fire Bird, in particular. Our example from ’57 is what Gretsch buffs refer to as the “Bo Diddley Jet Fire Bird.” Two of its distinct features/appointments are also shared with other 1957 Gretsch instruments and make them especially cool – the open-back Grover tuners with butterfly-shaped buttons, and the Brazilian rosewood fingerboard featuring “humped-back” position markers. Unique characteristics of this version of the 6131 include the Oriental Red top (6131 models from other years appear to have much less pink/red and more of a maroon/red and even burgundy-red-colored top) – and the silver  Lucite pickguard with a pantographed Gretsch logo in black letters (the finish on the 6120 appeared particularly distinctive in model year 1957). Commonly referred to as the “Duane Eddy 6120,” its amber-red finish was a vibrant red/orange; 6120s from other years display much less red in their finish. The Bo Diddley version of the Jet Fire Bird was never pictured in Gretsch literature. Diddley, however, did appear with one on the covers of two of his early albums, Bo Diddley and Go Bo Diddley.

    The ’57 Jet Fire Bird you see here is perched against a matching ’57 Gretsch Electromatic Twin (Model 6161) amplifier. Gretsch amps from this period were made by the Valco Manufacturing Company and are very cool-looking units. They’re decent-sounding practice amps and probably at their best when used for lap-steel work. The Electromatic Twin is rated at 14 watts and has Gretsch’s “wrap-around-grille,” a look very much like many radios from this time period. This amp has two 11″ x 6″ oval-shaped speakers, one round “porthole” tweeter, and is covered in Charcoal Gray Tolex with a subtle silverflake pattern that matches the covering on the Jet Fire Bird’s case (notice the yellow piping around the top and bottom of the amp). Sitting atop the amp is the perfect finishing touch – a hard-to-find vibrato footswitch.

    BO DIDDLEY ALBUM COVERS

    In spite of their great sound and exceptional visual appeal, the original Gretsch Jet Series guitars were produced in fairly small numbers, and sold modestly – not surprising given Gretsch’s focus on the hollowbody guitar. In spite of this, a lot of guitarists have flown a Jet during their careers – players as diverse as Diddley, Cliff Gallup, Atkins, George Harrison, Thumbs Carlille, Hank Garland, Billy Zoom, Jeff Beck, Joe Perry, Tom Keifer, and Dan Fogelberg. The next time you’re at a guitar show, if you see a squadron of Gretsch Jets, check ‘em out. And if there’s a cool-looking red one, take it for a test flight.


    This article originally appeared in Vintage Guitar Classics No. 3. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.


    You can receive more great articles like this in our twice-monthly e-mail newsletter, Vintage Guitar Overdrive, FREE from your friends at Vintage Guitar magazine. VG Overdrive also keeps you up-to-date on VG’s exclusive product giveaways! CLICK HERE to receive the FREE Vintage Guitar Overdrive.


  • The Drew & Sebastian Avenger

    The Drew & Sebastian Avenger

    At first glance, the D&S Avenger looks like a long-lost prototype from Leo’s shop, with its offset-waist shape and familiar pickup/ hardware/ control setup.

    The Avenger’s two-piece alder body sports a well-executed tobacco-sunburst finish and deep contours. Its one-piece 25.5″-scale bolt-on maple neck has a vintage C profile, aged/tinted poly finish with modern 9.5″-radius fretboard and Dunlop 6105 frets. The hardware has many classic elements, including a box-style chrome bridge, brass saddles, chrome control plate, knurled chrome-dome knobs, Kluson-style vintage tuners, and a single-ply pickguard. The Avenger’s Joe Barden bridge, while classic in design, uses compensated brass saddles and a cutout on its treble side for better string/control access. Electronics include a pair of U.K.-made Wizard Velvet single-coil pickups with Alnico II magnets, master Volume and Tone controls, a three-way blade pickup selector, and an Electrosocket output jack.

    Acoustically, the Avenger exhibits very good natural tone, thanks to its resonant alder body and precise neck joint. In fact, fit and finish on the Avenger was great, from the meticulously fitted polished frets to the clear, flaw-free finish. And setup was top-notch, with a dead-straight neck, nice, playable action, and spot-on intonation. Its playability was outstanding, and loaded with vintage feel and vibe. Its body is bigger than the Fender that inspired its design, but at 8.25 pounds, it’s not heavy, and its deep contours make it comfortable to play whether sitting or standing.

    Through a Fender ’65 reissue Super Reverb (12AX7/6L6) 4×10″ combo, the Avenger’s bridge pickup produced classic twang, with snappy highs and punchy lows, but with a smoother, more-even upper midrange and rich harmonic tone. The neck pickup had slightly less output (typical of most such setups), but with a throaty quality that blended well with the bridge pickup to produce a nice jangle in the middle position. The neck pickup came to life through a PRS H2 (12AX7/6L6) 1×12″combo, with its more-aggressive tone and overdrive channel; the tone was meatier and jumped more than it did through the Fender. The bridge pickup also liked the 1×12″, offering a very articulate, aggressive overdrive with a lot of natural sustain – without having to pile on preamp gain. The Tone control was well-tapered and very useful, darkening the neck pickup for a thick jazz/blues tone, or simply taking the high-end edge off of the bridge pickup, for a less-cutting rhythm sound. The Avenger’s resonance was evident through both amps, as it rendered a nice, complex harmonic signature and a killer fat sound. But it really shined through the PRS’ overdrive channel with a bit more attitude than through the Fender.

    The D&S Avenger is a cool mix of vintage vibe and modern playability; it’s a well-crafted axe that begs to be plugged in and played.


    D&S Avenger
    Price: $2,095 (direct, as tested
    Contact: www.facebook.com/drewandsebastian/


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