Tag: features

  • Virginia Museum of Fine Arts Hosts “Storied Strings” Exhibit

    Virginia Museum of Fine Arts Hosts “Storied Strings” Exhibit

    Painted in 1957, Thomas Hart Benton’s oil on canvas “Jessie with Guitar” is a pivotal piece in “Storied Strings.”

    Dr. Leo Mazow’s vision for the new “Storied Strings: The Guitar in American Art” exhibition at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts stemmed from the overwhelming popularity of (dare it be said?) the world’s favorite instrument.

    “Guitars are ubiquitous,” Mazow said. “They’re cool and fun, so they’ve always been a natural choice for artists to include in their work. Art exhibitions should be immersive and engaging. The guitar allows for that.”

    Though his formal title is Louise B. and J. Harwood Cochrane Curator of American Art, Mazow humbly boils it down to “teacher of American art,” and says work started on the exhibit about four years ago. Having organized the 2005-’06 exhibition “Picturing the Banjo” at the Palmer Museum of Art at Penn State University (and which traveled to the Corcoran Gallery and Boston Athenaum), he brought a deep interest in the ways art and music intersect.

    For “Storied Strings,” which explores the guitar’s symbolism in American art from the early 19th century to the present day, he and the VMFA staff gathered about 130 paintings, drawings, watercolors, photographs, and sculptures by American artists such as John Baldessari, Romare Bearden, Annie Leibovitz, Ruth Reeves, and Julian Alden Weir, along with 35 guitars made by Fender, Gibson, Gretsch, and Martin, including some that have been played by musicians such as Eric Clapton, John Lee Hooker, Freddie King, Les Paul, and others.

    From 1952, “Goodnight Irene” is an oil on canvas by Charles White.

    Other elements include audio-visual kiosks showing music and filmed performances, as well as a window overlooking a recording studio where visitors can view in-progress sessions. Musicians confirmed to appear include Tommy Emmanuel, Nels Cline, Yasmin Williams, Stephen McCarthy, and Corey Harris.

    Mazow offered VG a glimpse to several exhibit pieces and discussed his thoughts behind its creation. “Storied Strings” runs through March 19, 2023.

    What were the key steps in bringing together the many elements of the exhibit?
    I mostly found images in museum databases and by scouring the internet, and I had to consider, “What are the main themes?” In American art – as in music itself – the guitar is like a microphone that everyone passes around. At the basic-repertoire level, it’s easy to learn. And because most people understand its visual appeal, guitars appear a lot in art.

    I became particularly curious about how guitars figure prominently in pictures dealing with politics, gender, Black art and culture, and with images exploring financial themes. There are themes and stories directly or indirectly apparent in the works. The premise is that the guitar provides a way to tell stories, and to address themes and issues that otherwise might go under-told or not addressed whatsoever.

    Curator Leo Mazow (top) speaks during a media preview of the exhibition. Visitors in the galleries.

    What are some examples?
    One of the first drawings of a guitar in American art is now owned by the Gibbs Museum, in South Carolina; it’s a party and everyone’s drinking and carousing. The guy next to the guitar player is playing the case as if it’s a cello. So, there’s something to the manner in which guitar playing in art and everyday life facilitates “socializing,” for lack of a better word.

    Another work that had been on my radar was by Thomas Hart Benton, the most-famous American artist in the 1930s and ’40s. We have a picture he painted of his daughter playing guitar on her 18th birthday. And of course you don’t hear a painting, but there are things you can do in a painting to suggest the sonic realm, to suggest sound. Benton did that by showing her playing a variation on an F# chord, and it’s really great.

    There are photographs of celebrities, too, like Kitty Wells and Lulu Belle, two early women in country music. We have photographs of Prince, Nels Cline, and other important players past and present.

    What were the criteria for guitars you wanted for the exhibit?
    I was interested in guitars that, like paintings, no matter how beautiful and stunning they are aesthetically, offer a glimpse into cultural history. For example, there’s a Gibson Explorer played by Eric Clapton that ties into how the original Explorers were called Futuras, and I wanted to show how that rhymes with Cold War-era space-age aesthetics.

    An excerpt from “The Music Lives After The Instrument Is Destroyed,” a 1984 work by Lonnie Holley with a burned and broken Gibson SG.

    There’s also Eldon Shamblin’s Strat, which Leo Fender gave him; it is known to be the first painted Strat – they used gold automotive paint, so it’s like a sculpture in a metal medium, and parts of it have rusted so it’s gold with green in a few places. And speaking of space-age and glam aesthetics, we have Brian Setzer’s sparkly Gretsch Silver Jet, which really calls your attention from across the room. There’s also a pair of Fender paisley-finish instruments from 1968 – the Tele and Tele Bass – that speak to the vogue for paisley and other psychedelic designs in American art and fashion.

    Which collectors helped the cause?
    There were several. One of the people we reached out to was Paul Polycarpou, a collector and former musician who set up meetings with several other collectors including Eliot Michael, at Rumbleseat Music, and Joe Glaser. Those guys are complete mensches, and they put me in touch with others. We borrowed some great Martins and other instruments from George Gruhn and Walter Carter, who, along with Jerry Zolten, Bruce Roth, and Tom Wentzel, of Vintage Blues Guitars, were very helpful. There were others who are equally generous. The Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of Fine Arts Boston lent important instruments.

    Is there significance in the way certain guitars are displayed?
    Even though the exhibit is about guitar symbolism in American art, we have a small section dealing with Martins and their legacy, because Martin set the tone for guitar design and aesthetics, and these instruments contextualize paintings in which similar guitars appear. We all know about the X bracing used by Martin, but the curve of the violin-scroll headstock and their rosette, purfling, and mustache bridge are remarkable, too.

    Guitar players and builders often talk about the guitar as multifaceted art because of the sounds it makes, the way it’s made, and the way it looks.

    (Clockwise from top left) This 1935 Dorothea Lange photo shows a Mexican laborer in a camp in the Coachella Valley. A 1943 photo of Woody Guthrie shot by Al Aumuller. Guitarist/singer/activist Odetta Holmes, here in a 1958 photo by Otto Hagel, was sometimes called “The Voice of the Civil Rights Movement.” The exhibit’s oldest piece is “Charlotte Davis Wylie,” painted by Thomas Cantwell Healy in 1853.

    Yeah, and we have an example in a Tilton guitar that banjo collector Jim Bollman sold to the Museum of Fine Arts, in Boston. It was made by the Haynes Company, with so much mother-of-pearl and abalone; it’s a presentation-grade instrument that would hang in a parlor or den, but of course it wasn’t made to sound great. Billy Gibbons visited the museum and told us he had played a similar guitar at Walter Carter’s. I asked, “How did it sound?” and he said, “Eh… about what you’d expect.” It’s not a high-end guitar for playing, but it’s pure eye candy from the 1880s, and mirrors literary conceptions of gilded-age wealth.

    A very cool part of the exhibit is the recording studio, and some heavy hitter players are showing up for sessions.

    Yes, it’s a fully functioning studio. We’re asking musicians to think about how the guitar can be an expressive “narrating” device – something to communicate with. So, in addition to having them play, we’ll ask them how their guitar serves as a communication tool, an expressive device. Is it that for them? What does it mean to them?

    People who happen to be at the exhibit those days will be able to watch?
    Yes, there are windows to the studio, and speakers built into the walls, so people can hear it all. And the recordings will be made available through the VMFA’s Youtube channel (search for “Richmond Sessions ’22-’23”), which is linked from the museum’s website.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Universal Audio Ruby, Woodrow & Dream

    Universal Audio Ruby, Woodrow & Dream

    Price: $399 (each)
    www.uaudio.com

    With digital recording more popular than ever, audio designers are working to capture guitar tone directly, without miking an amp. Universal Audio – renowned maker of studio gear – has introduced three pedals to get the job done, each modeled on a specific vintage amp.

    The Ruby ’63 Top Boost Amplifier is UA’s tribute to Vox sonics, from The Beatles to Queen and zillions more, with two channels (Bril/Norm) and three speaker emulations, as well as a Vibrato circuit. Its Room effect adds a hair of reverby ambience. The best controls are the Cut, Treble, and Boost, which react just like an old Top Boost. When you turn up Cut, for example, you’re reducing top-end response, re-creating that timeless tone. Crank the Gain to add throaty Brian May drive.

    The UA Woodrow ’56 Instrument Amplifier evokes a tweed Fender Deluxe, a Class A tube amp that sounds better the louder you crank it. You get three speaker choices as well as preamp boosters, including emulations of a Korg SDD-300 and Echoplex. The Inst Vol and Mic Vol knobs adjust levels for each channel, just like a ’50s amp with both guitar and microphone inputs. For sounds, you can dial in all manner of rockabilly and Chuck Berry sizzle, all the way to Tom Petty twang. Dime the controls for tweedy overdrive – think Aerosmith’s “Mama Kin.”

    Lastly, the Dream ’65 Reverb Amp models a Fender Deluxe Reverb, useful for surf, West Coast jangle, and surprisingly rich distortion á la “Rocky Mountain Way.” Speaker settings like Oxford give solid crunch, while GB25 and EV12 offer more Marshall-tinged tones when combined with the D-Tex preamp (a hot-rodded Stevie Ray circuit). Digital spring-style reverb conjures surf twang, along with a tremolo circuit. As on all three pedals, save a single preset by holding down the Store switch. They’re also Bluetooth-enabled, so you can recall presets from your phone or device and connect via USB-C to download fresh sounds.

    Of the three boxes, Dream is the heavy-rock box, with lots of headroom and clarity, while Ruby is a British Invasion time machine. Woodrow is for rock-and-roll purists. While pricey, all three are fun, hip, and deliver superior amp models.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Eastwood’s Classic 6 TA PHo

    Eastwood’s Classic 6 TA PHo

    Price: $1499
    www.eastwoodguitars.com

    If you’ve seen Phish guitarist Trey Anastasio onstage, you may have noticed an unusual archtop in his mitts – a custom six-string by builder Paul Languedoc. Its design has been distilled into the Eastwood Classic 6 TA PH, a unique, fully hollow double-cutaway with a Fender-length scale of 25.5″.

    The Classic 6 boasts stellar looks, with a flamed-maple top in natural or tobacco-sunburst finish. There are maple back and veneer sides, along with a bound neck, ornate body, and soundhole binding. There’s a small block under the bridge to help control feedback, an unusual six-on-a-side headstock (slightly tilted back for tuning stability), and gold hardware. For electronics, look for two Custom ’59 humbuckers, each with mini-switches for splitting coils and series/parallel operation. One unusual feature for an archtop is a full complement of 24 frets, all fairly accessible, and that scale, of course, gives this Korean-made axe more top-end snap than a Gibson-scaled instrument.

    Aside from its elegant appearance, the real show starts when you plug it in. For starters, the maple neck on the Classic 6 TA PH is impressive. Right out of the box, the slim, even-taper D neck and ebony fretboard make for a ridiculously fast playing experience – this Eastwood may look “jazz,” but its neck will make you yearn to burn. The setup offers low action on a relatively flat ’board with large frets, allowing for near-effortless playability. In jams and rehearsals, the maple-topped box cut through the mix and provided numerous avenues for creative expression. At about 7.5 pounds, it’s also reasonably lightweight, adding to its allure.

    The combination of its upper-midrange price and superb construction makes the Classic 6 an extraordinary value. While many other Eastwoods are replicas of vintage guitars, basses, and electric mandolins, this Anastasio-inspired axe breaks new ground for the company in terms of build and dazzling performance. Try one.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Fishman Loudbox Mini

    Fishman Loudbox Mini

    Price: $369.95
    www.fishman.com

    The Fishman Loudbox Mini is just what its name says – a small amp that delivers the company’s renowned audio in a loud, portable, non-hernia-inducing package.

    Weighing just 21 pounds, the two-channel Mini packs 60 watts, one channel with a 1/4″ jack for guitar, the other an XLR jack for microphone or preamp. There’s also a three-band EQ and digital reverb on both, a Phase button for pumping-up bass at low volume (or tweaking feedback), Aux In jacks, and Bluetooth connectivity for adding backing tracks. For extra ear candy, the Chorus circuit offers two presets of lushness.

    Once upon a time, a smaller acoustic amp might distort if you cranked it too high, but Fishman’s designers made the Loudbox Mini a durable performer. There is a 6.5″ woofer and 1″ tweeter, yet even at high volume the speakers deliver big, impressively clean tone. And if you think a smaller amp can’t deliver adequate bass, consider that many of today’s acoustic/electric guitars have their own active EQ, so adding more low-end is easy.

    It’s hard to argue with the Loudbox Mini. It sounds sumptuous, offers tons of features, and can make your load-out a breeze. Top it with an easy-on-the-debit-card price – and you’re ready for your next coffeehouse or farmer’s market gig.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Maestro Ranger Overdrive and Invader Distortion

    Maestro Ranger Overdrive and Invader Distortion

    Price: $149
    www.maestroelectronics.com

    Maestro’s new all-analog overdrive and distortion pedals are like evil twins – two black-sheep siblings that differ in concept but work great together.

    Part of Maestro’s new Original Collection – retro-chic effects, but with a pronounced and welcome modern twist and cool ’60s styling – the Ranger Overdrive is designed to emulate some of guitar world’s fave vintage tube amps, ranging from warm and expressive to attack-dog snarl. The Invader Distortion is a high-gain, all-modern effect that’s pure aggression while still being rich in harmonics. Pair ’em up, and you can stir up a crazy sonic brew.

    The Ranger requires no learning curve beyond dialing in the sounds you like. It features a classic and intuitive three-knob layout with Gain (amount of overdrive), Tone, and output Level, which boasts scads of volume to go far beyond unity gain. The Hi/Lo mode toggle offers two tonalities – natural overdrive and a cleaner, more touch-sensitive sound.

    The Ranger adds muscle to your signal, punching an amp with a boost that drives it into grit-like terrain. Think Blues Breakers-era Clapton and you get the possibilities.

    The Invader goes beyond all, driving right past overdrive into the domain of pure distortion. Control knobs are similar in purpose to the Ranger, but the sound is all its own – 100 percent heavy-duty oomph. It also has a toggle for switching a built-in noise gate that can be fine-tuned with an internal trim pot to adjust Threshold.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Keeley Electronics Dark Side

    Keeley Electronics Dark Side

    Price: $299
    Info: www.robertkeeley.com

    In the multi-verse of effects pedals, Robert Keeley’s compressors, dirt boxes, and workstation gizmos are a thing of beauty – particularly in the realm of pedals that provide multiple sounds. Guitarists who have a hankering for fuzz, delay, and modulation effects will undoubtedly dig the Dark Side, which purports to mimic the popular guitar sounds of David Gilmour of Pink Floyd.

    Based on a 1977 op-amp style analog fuzz, the Dark Side uses a high-quality 24-bit DSP engine to mirror the Big Muff circuit with the capacity for variations using Level, Filter, and Fuzz knobs for volume, tone control, and gain, respectively. A three-position equalization voicing switch (Flat, Full, Scoop) offers more control. The delay and modulation effects feature 12 Binson-style syncopated delays and four modulation sounds – flanger, rotary, phaser, and univibe. Level, Blend, Depth, and Rate knobs offer more sonic flexibility. The delay cannot be used with the modulation effects, but a button on top allows rearranging the order of effects.

    The Dark Side packs malleable features in a small package; modulation effects are rich and lustrous, and the acquired taste of fuzz achieves usable sustain, boost, and saturated grit. The delay is warm and flexible, but lacks tap tempo.

    In all, Keeley has created a super-cool musical product, invaluable for getting the most from a single enclosure.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • GA-20’s Matt Stubbs and Pat Faherty

    GA-20’s Matt Stubbs and Pat Faherty

    Faherty (left) and Stubbs, Teisco and Waterslide at the ready.

    Musical gateways opened by Jimi Hendrix and the Doors led Matt Stubbs to become a disciple of Johnny “Guitar” Watson, Earl Hooker, and the guitar Kings – Albert, Freddie, and B.B. Their influence was catalyzed when his father took young Matt to see live performances by Luther “Guitar Junior” Johnson and Duke Robillard; witnessing great players do what they do stirred him to create his own art on the instrument.

    In 2018, Stubbs and fellow Bostonian Pat Faherty formed GA-20, set on playing old-school electric blues. While their work together is singular, their musical backgrounds bear little resemblance. Stubbs’ father gigged playing old-school rock and blues on guitar, while Faherty started on piano when he was five, took an interest in guitar thanks to an uncle who couch-strummed ’90s rock and pop, then studied other musical forms.

    Their third album, Crackdown (see review in this month’s “Hit List”), landed on shelves in early August, and we talked as they were midway through a tour stretch with Colemine/Karma Chief label mates the Monophonics and Kendra Morris. Perched in the lobby of a Salt Lake City car dealership, they awaited an oil change – just one necessity of a 12,000-mile tour.

    “Our first gig was in San Diego,” Stubbs chuckled. “So, coming from Boston, the tour was long before it started.”

    What sort of music do you remember first hearing or caring about as a kid?
    Matt Stubbs: I grew up watching my father’s band rehearse. They did early rock and roll – Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and early blues stuff. They’d gig on weekends and I started going to watch when I was 15. When I was 16, I joined them.

    Pat Faherty: When you’re growing up, music is all around you but you don’t really appreciate it, right? You like certain songs. In elementary school, I had Bell Biv DeVoe and East Coast Family cassettes, then in junior high I started getting into punk rock when a friend let me borrow some CDs. The first punk I heard was a Toxic Narcotic song called “People Suck,” and it hit me like a ton of bricks. When you’re 13, you’re like, “I didn’t know people were allowed to swear that much!” It’s been a steady downhill ever since (laughs).

    Later, I was into jazz, funk and R&B groups in school – much more rhythm-based music, and my teacher, Richie Hart, really stressed how all melodies start with rhythm. I was in a Van Halen cover band for a number of years, doing the guitar parts and vocal parts.

    Wow…

    PF: I’m not saying I did them perfectly, but, yeah, I was singing and playing parts that did not match up. A lot of people learn to play and sing at the same time doing songs by people who were singing while playing, so the guitar part lines up with the vocal. But when you’re trying to sing David Lee Roth and play Eddie Van Halen… It was a crash course in learning Eddie’s rhythmic phrasing first, then working out the actual playing. Too many people jump to tab when they try that stuff, and miss out on a lot of details.

    Matt Stubbs’ ’51 Tele is the only guitar he used to play Brewer Phillips’ rhythm parts on GA-20’s 2020 tribute to Hound Dog Taylor. “I play it all the time at home and I’ll take it to local gigs,” he said. “It has a couple non-original parts – tuning keys, pickguard, and there’s a filled rout in the body – but it’s got mojo, and you can definitely tell it’s been played, which I prefer. A couple of my old guitars are mint, and playing them out makes me nervous.” This ’64 Jazzmaster is one of Matt Stubbs’ collectibles. Also from the Stubbs collection – a 1960 ES-330.

    When you started to learn blues, who were you into?
    PF: I’d do licks by Buddy Guy, Freddie King, Albert King, B.B. King, and Magic Sam. I got into J.B. Lenoir thanks to Matt. It was all staples of good old electric blues.

    What were your first guitars?
    MS: An American Standard Strat, black with a maple neck, and I swapped out the pickups for Lindy Fralins. I still have it.
    PF: I started on a borrowed Yamaha acoustic with action that was half an inch off the neck (laughs). It took me a month to play a single note on the thing.

    Matt, which amp did you use with your Strat?
    MS: It was a solid state practice amp with gray-carpet covering. I played that the first year or two, then got a Crate tube amp with white tolex, and the thing broke every other day (laughs).

    Pat, what was your first electric guitar?
    PF: It was a Hondo II; 20 bucks worth of parts assembled for 30 bucks (laughs). It didn’t last long before I got a Squire Strat. By the time I graduated high school, I had a Jackson Randy Rhoads, then a Fender American Strat with a humbucker and two single-coils. I still have that.

    Matt, when did you start getting into vintage amps?
    MS: A couple years after I started playing, my father hipped me to vintage guitars and amps, and I never looked back. My first cool old amp was a silverface Dual Showman. Shortly after – and I don’t remember why – I sold it and got into Ampegs when I was 16. I still have my first one, a mid-’60s Reverberocket II. It was my first small tube amp and I have three of them now. They’re one of the coolest-sounding 1x12s you can get.

    When did you start looking beyond the Strat?
    MS: I was taking lessons from a local blues player, and I’d go to see his band when I was 16 or 17, which got me into traditional blues and West Coast blues – swing-type stuff – which sent me down a rabbit hole. So, my first vintage guitar was a ’50s Kay archtop that had a crappy humbucker someone put in, but I replaced it with two P-90s. From there, I started collecting, buying, and selling. I got a ’62-reissue Tele Thin Skin in Seafoam Green, double-bound. I also had a Shell Pink parts Strat. In my early ’20s, those were my main guitars.

    When did the first collectible enter the picture?
    MS: When I turned 21, my uncle surprised me at a gig and gifted me his ’68 Jaguar, which he’d bought new but never played much, so it sat under his bed in mint condition.

    Through the years, I collected a couple others; I got a really nice ’64 Jazzmaster. I always wanted an early Telecaster, but I play blues for a living (laughs), so I couldn’t really afford a blackguard until a friend of mine in Austin found one about a year and a half ago. He thought it was a refin, so it was a really good deal. I sold 10 guitars to buy it, sight-unseen, and turns out it wasn’t a refin. We popped the neck and it’s dated October ’51 – the month that the Tele transitioned from Nocaster. So it might be one of the first 250 Teles. It was sold by the relative of the owner, who passed away. He wanted to sell to a player.
    You recently scored a Flying V…

    MS: I did. It’s a 2002, like a ’67 reissue Hendrix. I had one like it as a kid. I’m going to modify it, though; I’m not a huge humbucker guy, so I ordered some Mojo Gold Foils to see what it sounds like. They’re the same size as a P-90 and I’ll get a different pickguard to rout.

    Pat Faherty with his prized Harmony Stratotone Newport, Matt Stubbs a Silvertone 1454.

    “It took two hours to sing the first line [of “Hoodoo Man Blues”] while playing the guitar part underneath it. I kept rinsing and repeating, and eventually it became easier to process.” – Pat Faherty


    Beyond nostalgia, was there a reason for seeking it?
    MS: I love Lonnie Mack and spent a lot of time learning his early stuff – “Wham!” and his version of “Memphis” and all that stuff. “Oh, I Apologize” is one of my favorite songs.

    Pat, how did you develop a taste for vintage import guitars and budget tube amps?
    PF: I’ve always liked that they just sound so different. In GA-20, we play a style of music that sounds a certain way, and those guitars and amps do a better job getting those tones. If they made modern gear that sounded as good, with the same quality wood and parts, I’d probably get those. My need for vintage gear says more about the state of modern gear. The wood on old ones is different, it had longer to age, the metal and aluminum used for wiring has oxidized. All of those things affect the sound. I have two of the exact same guitars – a Teisco and a Kingston – that I used for the Hound Dog record (GA-20 Does Hound Dog Taylor: Try It…You Might Like It!), and they sound completely different and play completely different, even though they have the same pickups, wiring, wood, setup, all that. They came from the same factory but have their own flavor.

    My Kawais and Teiscos sound great and look great, but they play like s**t (laughs). On one, the neck is shaped like an S – it somehow bows in both directions (laughs), and the tuning is awful. I use a capo some times, so I have to strategize, like, “Okay, when the capo’s not on, I’ll take the E a little flat, so when I put the capo on the fifth fret, the A will only be a little sharp.” I don’t have the option of stopping to tune up, you know? It keeps life interesting.

    Matt, after playing in your dad’s band, what came next?
    MS: I went to Berklee while still doing gigs with dad’s band, but dropped out after a year and started doing blues side gigs around New England. I also started my first instrumental trio, doing ’50s and ’60s blues and surf stuff.

    You moved to California in 2006….

    MS: Yeah, I got a gig in Los Angeles with singer Janiva Magness, who does blues and R&B. Then I got a gig in Northern California with John Németh, and in 2007 got the Charlie Musselwhite gig through drummer June Core, who played for both Charlie and John. My buddy, Kid Anderson, was playing guitar with Charlie at the time, but getting ready to leave. I’d met Charlie once – we didn’t really know each other, but he called and offered me a tour, saying, “Here’s the setlist…” No rehearsals. Kid did the first couple gigs with us so I could get a feel for the arrangements, but by the third one I was on my own. The first couple tours, I was just holding onto my seat, trying not to get fired. And Charlie is very generous with the spotlight. I’ve soloed more in that band than any other.

    Was there an intimidation factor, given the guitarists who have backed and jammed with Charlie in the past – Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters, Bloomfield, B.B. King, Clapton, to name a few?
    MS: Yeah, 100 percent (laughs). Complete intimidation.

    But, that gig made it possible for you to move back to Boston.

    MS: Yeah, there was no reason for me to live in L.A., and when I moved back, I started my instrumental thing back up. In 2018, Charlie made his second record with Ben Harper and was going on tour with Ben for a full year. So, I was looking at a lot of time off, which sparked GA-20. Me and Pat had the idea to start a trio, just to keep busy. Pat had been coming to my solo-band gigs, and I had a blues jam where he’d sit in. He took a few lessons and we became buddies. He was into jazz and other stuff that wasn’t blues, but was focused on playing blues.

    Folks who dig into your catalog will find a lot of cool guitar music on your solo albums and with The Antiguas, none of which has even one lyric.

    MS: Instrumental to the max.

    You were in deep.

    MS: Still am, man. I love it. I have a new Antiguas record ready to go, I just have to find time to release it.

    This Silvertone 1454 (left) is a studio mainstay for Matt Stubbs. Pat Faherty’s ’60s Kawai stays tuned for slide playing, but he keeps this Harmony Stratotone Newport standard-tuned for traditional play.

    Antiguas has a ’60s feel.

    MS: Yup, kind of like movie music. It’s a mix of blues and psych rock and cinematic stuff. When I was making it, I was listening to a lot of exotica music like Esquivel and Martin Denny.

    What are your guitars and amps for that band?
    MS: Mostly the Seafoam Green Tele and the Reverberocket II in the studio – and the Super Reverb, which is a little bit out of character. I usually don’t record with amps that big, but for that stuff I needed that big, clean Fender sound.

    Was the idea for GA-20 pretty organic?
    MS: When we started, Pat was really getting into the blues, so we started talking about doing something that A) could get lots of gigs, and B) there wasn’t many people doing. And it’s the kind of music I love and listen to. We worked a lot that first year – everything from a wine-bar gig in downtown Boston where nobody cared what we were doing, to backyard parties and rock clubs. Anything that was paying, we were taking. We wrote a lot of the songs for our first record at gigs where no one was listening. But it was a solid concept – ’50s to early-’60s Chicago blues. I wanted to keep it as lean and simple as possible. We’d hire whoever was available to play drums and we talked a lot about arrangements since there’s no bass and we didn’t want it to sound empty.

    I didn’t have the idea until I realized I’d have that year off. The Antiguas were playing a lot, but that’s an esoteric style of music – not something that could work three, four nights a week and make money. I’m a full-time musician, so unless I wanted to get a day job, I needed to figure out a project.

    Pat, what do you recall about getting to know Matt?
    PF: When I started going to jams and his gigs, we connected over my interest in that style of blues. I asked him, “What should I be learning?” because I couldn’t just show up and play pentatonics up and down. It’s a job, right? So you’ve got to learn the repertoire. And I liked it, so he wrote a list of albums, songs, and stuff, and I tore into it and learned it all as best I could. Then, I’d go to the open mics, and one night somebody said, “Hey, we don’t have a singer. Pat, can you sing one?” I bullsh***ed through it and they said, “Hey, you sound okay,” so I went, “Okay, guess I’ll sing.”

    The first blues song I learned to play and sing at the same time was the upbeat version of “Hoodoo Man Blues,” off of that [1965] album by Junior Wells and Buddy Guy, and I’m not exaggerating when I say it took two hours to sing the first line while playing the guitar part underneath it. And it still didn’t feel right. But I kept rinsing and repeating, and eventually it became easier to process.

    How did the GA-20 sound develop?
    MS: There was a lot of experimenting with amps. At first, we were playing really small places, each using a five- or 10-watt amp, but as soon as we graduated to actual “performances,” we both needed two amps. So we usually have a louder, clean amp that covers low-end and a smaller amp, like a GA-20, that’s a bit overdriven. Because we trade solos, we each cover a lot of sonic ground.

    What do you use onstage now?
    MS: We’re playing much bigger venues, especially on this tour – 400- to 1,000-cap rooms, so we’re using bigger amps. I’m using two ’68 Bassman heads, each with a 2×12 cab, and Pat’s using a ’68 Super Reverb and a ’59 reissue Bassman. It’s a lot louder than we used to be (laughs).

    And are you staging the vintage import guitars?
    MS: Pat’s using a bunch. I had Waterslide build a guitar for me about a year and a half ago. They build mostly Coodercasters – Strat copies with a lap-steel pickup and a Gold Foil, but I had him build a Tele copy with two Gold Foils and a Bigsby. It feels like a Tele, but covers some of the sounds I get from my old Silvertone 1454 hollowbody, which is a delicate guitar; we’re doing a lot of flying and throwing stuff in and out of the van, so that stayed home. I also brought a reissue Jazzmaster as my backup. Pat has his ’50s Stratotone Newport when he needs standard tuning, then for slide he’s got a Kingston or Kawai four-pickup, like Hound Dog Taylor. He’s got more vintage stuff on the road than I do at the moment.

    Matt Stubbs’ ’63-reissue Tele Custom has Don Mare pickups.

    “It’s fun to write something and think it’s going in one direction and then it ends up somewhere totally different.” – Matt Stubbs


    What’s the story behind on Crackdown came together?
    MS: Well, we had the songs written shortly after we released Lonely Soul. It was recorded before the Hound Dog record, and we’d planned on releasing it in 2020, when everything shut down. We had a meeting with Colemine and decided to put the brakes on it since we wouldn’t be able to get out and tour.

    It’s crazy how different it sounds compared to Lonely Soul.
    MS: Absolutely. Lonely Soul was retro, blown-out, distorted, raw sonics. I wanted Crackdown to move forward and be more song-based.
    Edgier, more rock-and-roll.

    MS: Definitely. We let other influences sneak in – rock, garage rock, country music.

    Pat, how has your playing evolved since starting GA-20?
    PF: I’ve learned to play the melodies and the bass-like lines while singing on top of them. When I’m writing, I try to let whatever wants to come out do so naturally and sound like my influences. It’s not, “I like this other person’s riff, so I’m going to write lyrics over it.” It’s not a copy-and-paste thing.

    Which songs on Crackdown are the best examples of what you were going for?
    MS: The opening track, “Fairweather Friend,” is a bit of a departure, but it’s my favorite song on the record. I wrote the guitar part thinking it was going to have a hill-country-blues vibe. I sent the riff to Pat and he put lyrics to it, then when we got together, out of nowhere it became a rock-and-roll song – garage rock with a ’60s vibe. It’s fun to write something and think it’s going in one direction and then have it end up somewhere totally different.

    Another is “Dry Run,” which has a country vibe, but heavily influenced by Jimmy Reed, Lazy Lester, and Slim Harpo. I played the top guitar part, with all the reverb. I was thinking about Slim Harpo records where it sounds like they’re in a bathroom, with all that echo.
    “Easy On The Eyes” is another fun one. I love Howlin’ Wolf records where they play just one riff or one chord; it doesn’t go anywhere, but it’s just hypnotic. So I came up with that riff while we were on tour in Atlanta, and after the gig we went to a friend’s studio to jam on it and drink some beers. There, Pat came up with the “woahs” in the beginning. It started out as a Howlin’ Wolf thing in my mind, but became its own thing.

    How do you decide who takes a lead?
    MS: It’s pretty organic. On the Hound Dog stuff, Pat played slide, doing all those leads. On Crackdown, it was usually pretty clear who was going to do it. If I was playing a riff up top and Pat was playing something more like a bass line, I’d typically end up playing the lead. If I was playing the bottom, he was already on top, which, when we’re playing live, keeps everything cohesive. It’s never a problem.

    You’ve been touring behind Crackdown for awhile now. Have you noticed certain songs get especially good response?
    PF: Yeah, “Dry Run” and “Easy On the Eyes.” I tell the people the story behind “Dry Run,” which is kind of a tragic comedy. And even before the album came out, I’d notice people singing along. I’d think, “How do they know the song?” And even though it has a uniquely pathetic backstory, I can’t tell you the amount of people – men and women – who’ve come up and said, “That song happened to me.” It’s such a weird feeling. I tell them, “I thought I was the only one that could happen to,” but I’d hear, “I went through the same exact thing.”

    As a songwriter, it doesn’t get much better than that.

    PF: Exactly. An accidentally relatable song – and I am a uniquely unrelatable person. Having somebody come up and say, “Yeah, man, that was really relatable…” it’s like, “What the hell are you talking about?” But, there you go.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Classics: December 2022

    Classics: December 2022

    In 1964, high-school freshman Reid Farrell bought a Fiesta Red ’59 Telecaster with help from his guitar teacher, John Andrews. The price? $125, in its original hard case.

    A couple years later, Farrell was using the Tele to gig with The Interns, a band formed with friends at Memorial High and other schools. An image-conscious kid in a time when old guitars were little more than that, Farrell decided to “fix” the weird orange-ish finish on his.

    Guitar photos by Kerry Beyer.

    “I’d always thought the color was sort of funky,” he chuckled. “One of the guys in the band told me about a kid in our school, Don Summers, who played bass in a band called Moving Sidewalks, and would paint guitars. So we figured we’d have Don paint my guitar and the Fender Precision used by our bass player, Graham Hill, in matching Candy Apple Red.”

    Reid connected with Summers, and in August of ’65 both instruments were dropped off to be given their new look.

    The Interns were soon one of the most-popular bands in the area, playing house parties and school dances after football games every weekend. In the spring of ’66, they tasted fame with the regional hit “Sally Met Molly,” a medley of Little Richard songs arranged by Farrell (who used Andrews’ sunburst Jazzmaster to record it; shortly after, Andrews moved to San Francisco and joined Steve Miller’s band, then Mother Earth) and issued by Mercury Records. The song, and good management by Farrell’s mother, Carol Grey Duffey, helped them get an opening slot for Eric Burden and the Animals that July, followed by opening slots for other bands that played the Houston Coliseum including The Byrds, Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, and Neal Diamond.

    After a gig that fall, Farrell loaded the Tele, a borrowed ES-335-12, his blackface Twin Reverb, and his girlfriend into his Tropical Turquoise ’65 Ford Mustang and off they went to a party. Times being what they were, he didn’t lock the car doors, but little did he know that someone had followed him from the gig, and sure enough, even though he was there for only 20 minutes, all of his gear was swiped. He quickly filed a report with Houston police.

    Graham Hill (with a Vox Teardrop bass) and Farrell with his ’59 Tele onstage with The Interns in 1966 at the Houston Coliseum.

    A week later, a guy showed up at a Moving Sidewalks rehearsal in Don Summers’ home, wanting to sell a guitar to the band’s guitarist, Billy Gibbons. Summers immediately recognized it and advised his bandmate to pass, but got the kid’s phone number and called Farrell, who contacted the seller the next day to negotiate a return. At first, the guy wasn’t having it, but Reid tried again the following night. This time, they agreed to meet at Gibbons’ house.

    Farrell arrived with two carloads of his football teammates serving as de facto security, but the culprit turned out to be a 15-year-old kid who showed up alone. Preferring to keep his parents from knowing about the ordeal, Gibbons told Farrell, “Take the guitar and get out of here quickly.”

    As fate would have it, though, Lorraine and Freddie Gibbons, who’d been attending a formal event, returned as Farrell was striding to his car. Seeing a gang of brawny footballers dressed all in black, Lorraine asked, “Billy Gibbons, what is going on here? Get back in that house immediately!”

    The thief, it turned out, was the son of a sergeant in the Houston Police Department who called Farrell the following day to explain how the boy had been coerced to the evil deed by two parolees and a warrant was set to be issued for his arrest. He asked Farrell what he wanted in exchange for not pressing the matter.

    “Well, I’m having the guitar repainted…” he said. Three days later, a check for $200 arrived in the mail and was earmarked to cover the cost of having the Fender factory convert the guitar to Arctic White.

    When Reid Farrell sent the guitar for a refin by Fender, they also “updated” its headstock logo.

    Farrell and The Interns rolled on until the late summer of ’67, when they ventured to various colleges in lieu of being drafted. Farrell started at Texas Christian University and formed a band to play fraternity parties. In ’68, he used the Tele to tour the East Coast with Archie Bell & the Drells, then in ’69 joined the Houston-area band The Seven Soul Survivors. Two or three times each week, he’d visit Gibbons and they’d jam on the porch then grab cheese enchiladas with hot sauce at Leo’s Mexican Restaurant (the gatefold photo inside Tres Hombres was taken there), chasing the food with glasses of whole milk.

    In the fall of ’71, Farrell bought a ’52 Tele and his then-girlfriend “suggested” that two Teles was one too many. So, he sold the ’59 to Gibbons for $125. Sensing his friend’s reluctance, Gibbons dubbed it “Red Pharaoh” and later enlisted it to help record ZZ Top’s fifth studio album, Tejas (that’s it on “Arrested for Driving While Blind”) as well its first mainstream-rock #1 single, “Sleeping Bag,” from 1985’s Afterburner.

    Farrell finished college and, in the spring of ’73, joined a band led by guitarist Ray Sharpe, playing around Ft. Worth and Arlington. In ’75, he joined the Freddy Cisneros Blues Band, gigging at the New Bluebird every weekend for a year. He was also part of the Larry Randall Combo, doing country clubs and other “high society” gigs. In ’76, he got a call from Gibbons, saying ZZ Top’s manager, Bill Hamm, was forming a band to back local-phenom singer/guitarist Rocky Hill. Farrell made the cut, but the band dissolved within a few months.

    The gutiar bears serial number 34815.

    In the late ’80s, Reid asked Gibbons if he could buy back the Tele, and once again they exchanged it for $125. The guitar then saw heavy action; its original bridge pickup failed and was re-wound by Ray Lambert. Eventually, it was retired from the road but continued to earn its keep on local recording sessions.

    From 1977 until 2021, The Interns played every reunion for the Memorial High classes of 1965, ’66, ’67, and ’68.

    “We don’t dress in white suits anymore,” laughed Farrell. “But we play ‘Twist and Shout,’ ‘Roll Over Beethoven,’ ‘All My Loving,’ ‘Can’t Buy Me Love,’ ‘Hard Day’s Night,’ ‘La Bamba,’ and a bunch of other great songs.”


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Orange OR80 Combo

    Orange OR80 Combo

    Amp and photos courtesy of Collin Whitley.
    1972 Orange OR80
    • Preamp tubes: two ECC83 (aka 12AX7)
    • Output tubes: two EL34
    • Rectifier: solid-state
    • Controls: F.A.C. (frequency analyzing control), Bass, Treble, H.F. Drive, Volume
    • Speakers: two “blackback” Celestion G12M
    • Output: approximately 50 watts RMS

    Created when amps were huge and men were men – or at least had roadies to carry the gear – this 1972 Orange OR80 2×12″ combo veritably screams bell-bottomed rock style and attitude, and wails it out with eardrum-shredding power.

    Range amps are known for being loud and brash, with a raw, raucous tone. It’s a sound we might call “classic alternative British,” and like many seminal brands from across the pond, they are very much children of the age into which they were born.

    The concept of English entrepreneur Cliff Cooper’s Orange retail outfit dates to 1968 and the very heart of swinging London, though the origin of the design and manufacturing of the amps goes back much further. Orange began to forge a reputation in the wider rock world around the time this “pics only” OR80 2×12″ combo hit the streets.

    The hulking amps that carry the name (and color) are the best-remembered representative of the brand, thanks in large part to popular reissues over the past two and a half decades, but Cooper’s would-be empire was founded on even broader ambitions. Established in a store on New Compton Street, Orange initially was a music-publishing operation, record label, music agency, and recording studio – in other words, a one-stop-shop for the aspiring rock star. With each enterprise struggling for a foothold, however, Cooper found that what London musicians most needed was quality gear – loud amps, in particular.

    The Celestion G12M speakers are an early-’70s variant of the Greenback.

    With no facility to build amps, Cooper sourced them from Matamp in the northern city of Huddersfield. The brand had debuted in 1964, but the electronics company behind it, RadioCraft, was founded by Mat Mathias in the mid ’40s. In its early years, Matamp was a regional brand, so the Orange deal provided a way to get product down south, though Londoner Peter Green had already taken Matamps to the big stage with Fleetwood Mac, so they were a known commodity.

    The story of why Orange separated from Matamp in 1971 varies according to the source; from Mathias’s perspective, the supplier tired of turning out mass-manufactured amps and decided to part ways with the London operation.

    To his credit, Cooper appreciated the value of a quality product from the start, and endeavored to maintain that standard while moving to a local facility that would be overseen by Orange itself. High-end details included chassis that weren’t merely painted orange, but coated in baked-on enamel for a long, corrosion-free life. Other touches included oversized transformers designed for a lifetime of service, and components that were of a good pedigree. Even so, the aesthetic remained their attention-grabbing element, and constituted a full-on visual assault of the highest and hippest order.

    Far more than a description of the color, the Orange ethos included bubbly hippy-chic logos, computer-graphic-inspired control legends, and the piéce de résistance, the oddly braggadocious Orange coat of arms. The full crest includes “rule Britannia” imagery in the form of a roaring lion and bare-shouldered, Union Jack-swathed maiden to the right, a world-crowning orange tree, and a figure described in the 1970 catalog as “the god of nature and hypnotic music” to the left. At the top is an overflowing wine cask, while the bottom contains the ambitious legend “Voice of the World.” Uh-huh.

    A member of the rare “pics-only” series, the OR80’s control panel uses graphics to depict function.

    Arguably a little too on-the-nose, the heavy-handed styling was primed to leave Orange products looking dated just a few years down the road, but it has served well throughout their revival via the reissue line, appealing to an audience consistently appreciative of retro-minded aesthetics.

    The rare “pics only” Orange series, of which this is one, ran for just a few years. The descriptor names the control panel’s rather obvious feature susing graphic illustrations to depict functions, with no text whatsoever. These graphics include a jack plug above the two inputs, sound wave icon above the F.A.C. (frequency analyzing control), a bass clef above the bass control, a treble clef above the treble control, a fist above the H.F. Drive (high-frequency), a speaker pumping air above the Volume control, snow-capped mountain peaks with reflected sound wave above the effects loop’s send and return (often dubbed “echo” in the day), and a cartoonish electrical “zap” above the power switch.

    The enigmatic F.A.C. knob is a six-position rotary switch that accesses a variety of coupling capacitors of descending value, setting the preamp’s overall voicing much like the six-way “click switch” used on many amps by Matchless, 65amps, Bad Cat, and others. The other uniquely Orange control, H.F. Drive, works somewhat like a presence control by adjusting the high-frequency content within the output stage, but also adds gain as you turn it up.

    Massive transformers hang at the back of the vertically mounted chassis.

    In addition to these features, the Orange circuit reveals the amp to be far more than just a brightly dressed clone of others that were popular at the time. The preamp uses just a single ECC83 (12AX7) tube with a Baxandall tone stage positioned between its two gain stages, and the Volume control immediately following these. A second ECC83 forms the cathodyne phase inverter with a driver stage preceding, a variation of the PI used in many amps from a full decade before, including the majority of smaller to mid-sized Fender tweed combos. Finally, a pair of EL34 output tubes pushes 50 to 60 watts through two “blackback” Celestion G12M 25-watt speakers, an early ’70s variant of the classic Greenback. It adds up to an amp with tons of raw, driving power and a certain “Orange haze” in texture and tone. It’s not a high-gain amp by today’s standards, but roars with a toothsome overdrive when pushed, and is loud when you get it there, considering its lack of a Master Volume.

    Hand-wired on a sturdy board with printed traces, the OR80’s circuit is utterly different from those of other major British makers of the day.

    The owner of this fine example, VG reader Collin Whitley, concurs.

    “The OR80 combo is a fairly rare amp, especially the early ‘pics-only’ version, and they’re even harder to find here in the U.S.,” he said. “Orange amps are famous for throaty midrange, and the OR models are very much the archetype of that iconic sound. While pre-Master Volume models are painfully loud, the OR80 is an absolute rock machine.”

    It goes without saying that this is a heavy machine, too. Between the massive transformers and the overbuilt cabinet, it’s a lot to cart around. Make the effort, though, and you’re rewarded with classic tones that suit a surprising range of genres and playing styles – along with a big, sunny smile, if legend-worthy British crunch is your jam.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

  • Fretprints: Toy Caldwell

    Fretprints: Toy Caldwell

    Toy Caldwell: Jim Summaria/Wikimedia Commons.

    Marshall Tucker Band was arguably the most unusual Southern-rock group of the ’70s. Its namesake wasn’t the leader, a member, or mascot, their virtuosic lead guitarist didn’t use a pick, and they regularly featured flute and saxophone solos.

    Moreover, MTB played a seemingly irreconcilable array of styles, blending country, blues, folk, gospel, and rock with progressive, bluegrass, soul, and jazz – smashing all stereotypes of the genre. Depending on where you dropped the needle, you might think you were hearing Jethro Tull, the Allmans, ZZ Top, Eagles, Freddie King, a Jeff Beck’s fusion outfit, Bakersfield twang, refugees from the Grand Ole Opry, a psychedelic jam band, or contemporary funk. Despite these diverse tangents, most MTB albums were surprisingly cohesive commercial successes that struck gold in their heyday when the lineup boasted guitarist/composer/vocalist/co-founder Toy Caldwell.

    Born in Spartanburg, South Carolina, on November 13, 1947, Toy Talmadge Caldwell, Jr. began playing guitar at 14. His father, a pro guitarist who eschewed the plectrum, taught him basic chords, the roots-country music of Hank Williams, songs like “Wildwood Flower,” some Travis picking, and exposed him to Glenn Miller big-band swing jazz. By 16, he was drawn to Chet Atkins and Hank Garland, and developed on a budget Gibson acoustic. He graduated to a Guild Starfire and Fender Jaguar, added rock, R&B and blues influences via the Beatles and B.B. King, played locally with the Rants, and assembled the fledgling Toy Factory with brother Tommy on bass and future MTB members Doug Gray (vocals), Jerry Eubanks (sax/flute), and George McCorkle (rhythm guitar/banjo).

    Caldwell served in the Marines from ’65 until ’69 and received a Purple Heart after being wounded in Vietnam. By ’70, he recovered his guitar chops, rebuilt Toy Factory, and reunited with Tommy in ’72 to launch Marshall Tucker Band (the moniker taken from a name printed on their rehearsal-room key) with Gray, Eubanks, McCorkle, and drummer Paul Riddle. They secured a gig at Grant’s Lounge in Macon, Georgia, where they were heard by future producer Paul Hornsby and, after a quick round of demos, signed to Capricorn Records.

    MTB’s eponymous ’73 debut, produced by Hornsby, was an auspicious outing combining rock, psychedelic, jazz, R&B, gospel, folk, and country elements boasting a program of Toy’s originals. Atypical instrumentation distinguished the perennial favorite “Take the Highway” with its jazzy flute solo and Toy’s blues-rock lead work while “Losing You” and “See You Later” evoked characteristic country moods with pedal steel, hillbilly harmonies, and drawling vocals. “Ramblin’” was a showcase for Toy’s fiery blues-rock while “My Jesus Told Me So” testified like pure Southern gospel and “Ab’s Song” was a gentle folk piece written for Toy’s wife and accompanied only by his acoustic guitar. Relentless touring (more than 300 shows yearly) sharpened MTB’s skills and paved the way for their sophomore outing; A New Life was another set of Toy originals including future classics “Fly Eagle Fly,” “24 Hours at a Time,” “Blue Ridge Mountain Sky” and “Too Stubborn.” MTB’s instrumentation was augmented with a horn section, greater use of keyboards (Mellotron on “You Ain’t Foolin’ Me”) as well as fiddler Charlie Daniels and percussionist Jaimoe (ABB). Where We All Belong boasted guest appearances by Daniels and Elvin Bishop (slide on “Where a Country Boy Belongs”). A double album of studio tracks penned by Toy – including “In My Own Way,” “Now She’s Gone (co-written with Tommy) and his signature song “This Ol’ Cowboy”– mixed with live cuts personifying jam-band tendencies (especially the nearly 12-minute “Everyday I Have the Blues”), it’s a bona fide Southern-rock masterpiece.

    The next two albums also garnered gold. Searchin’ for a Rainbow boasted the Top 40 single “Fire on the Mountain” while Long Hard Ride, with Daniels on the instrumental title track, earned a Grammy nomination. 1977’s Carolina Dreams went platinum and signaled greater pop-rock aspirations with the Top 20 hit “Heard It in a Love Song.” Together Forever, the first album produced by Stewart Levine, was a mainstream-rock affair with more band compositions, marking MTB’s last sessions for the collapsing Capricorn label.


    In concert, “Ramblin’” was Caldwell’s signature blowin’ song, and many versions serve as testament to his increasing abilities in MTB. The rendition on Where We All Belong is watershed. An uptempo rock shuffle, it’s comparable to Freddie King at double speed, with blistering blues-rock lines over chord changes that reconcile Dixieland, a country rag and Western swing. Toy finds strong melodic possibilities in the progression and puts his technique and palette of major/minor blues sounds to good use. Note the swing-based major pentatonic and its operative sixth tone A over C, Am, F, F#, C7 and F7, the slick toggling of half-step (Eb) and whole-step (E) bends over C7 and F7, and his smooth execution.


    Running Like the Wind (Warner Brothers, ’79) was slicker and pop-oriented, exemplified by the catchy title song, though its single “Last of the Singing Cowboys,” suggested jazz/R&B and fusion influences.

    Tenth was their final album with the founding lineup. Tommy Caldwell died of injuries in an auto accident that year and was replaced by Toy Factory bassist Franklin Wilkie for the aptly named Dedicated. Afterward, MTB’s popularity began to wane with Tuckerized, Just Us, and Greetings from South Carolina, as did Toy’s input and enthusiasm; all three contained far fewer Caldwell compositions.

    Toy left to pursue a solo career without the rigors of touring, and released a self-titled album in ’92 (later retitled Son of the South). Featuring contributions by Charlie Daniels, Willie Nelson, and Gregg Allman, it presented a revitalized Caldwell with a strong band including Pic Pickens on slide and rhythm guitar and reworking MTB classics “This Ol’ Cowboy” and “Fly Eagle Fly,” reinvented Nelson’s “Night Life,” and covered new territory in “Trouble in Dixie” and “Shadow Rider.”

    Toy died of a heart attack on February 25, 1993.

    STYLE
    Tommy Caldwell called MTB “progressive country,” reflecting their amalgam of blues, rock, gospel, jazz, psychedelic, R&B, and prog n a country base. It serves well as a descriptor of Toy’s style, which was a true musical mosaic. If Clapton electrified rural blues in “Crossroads,” then Toy produced its country equivalent in high-energy amplified versions of bluegrass/fiddle tunes like “Long Hard Ride.” The influence of ’60s rock players was evident in his overdriven sound and solo lines in heavier tunes like “You Ain’t Foolin’ Me” while electric blues a la B.B. King and Elvin Bishop informed the pentatonic/blues-scale melodies, string bending, speech rhythms, call-and-response phrasing, and staccato attack in “Ramblin’” and “Thrill is Gone.” R&B birthed the funky “How Can I Slow Down,” major-seventh chords and a breezy soft-jazz riff belied the down-home storyline in “This Ol’ Cowboy,” and his ubiquitous pedal-steel backing channeled the pop sensibilities of a Nashville session cat. Moreover, modal jazz solos were juxtaposed with modernized Delta blues in “Southern Woman.” In the studio, he balanced tight country and pop structures, while jazz inspired the freer jam-band improvisations on Stompin’ Room Only (live tracks from ’74 through ’76).

    Despite the breadth of his musical palette, Caldwell was as melody-conscious as any rock contemporary. What really separated him from cohorts was the way he used his thumb for picking intricate lead lines, affording the fleshy timbres of Jeff Beck, Mark Knopfler, Lindsay Buckingham, Wes Montgomery, and Albert King. He was able to turn on a dime with this technique to deliver fast, articulate blues-rock licks (with down strokes) on “Ramblin’” and “Take the Highway.” With his longer thumbnail, he simulated brighter plectrum tones in major-pentatonic and country-blues phrases, a la Betts and Duane Allman, generated artificial harmonics (“Southern Woman”) or rendered his personal take on chicken pickin’ (“Hillbilly Band”). He occasionally incorporated other fingers – a vestige of his Travis studies – to play dyads, chordal textures (“Everyday”), intervallic melodies like broken sixths (“Can’t You See” coda and “Everyday” intro), and arpeggios. He applied extremes of dynamic range and percussive muting effectively in his solos and colored many faster phrases with abundant hammer-on/pull-off legato technique. He occasionally used tunings like Open D on “Long Hard Ride” and Son of the South.

    Caldwell’s music reached an apogee by ’93, chronicled on that solo album. Interested in chords and progressions from his early years, his compositions were more assured and developed, cast in well-conceived arrangements decorated with thoughtful orchestration and focused guitar work. His playing exhibited considerable refinement in the form of more thematic improv, smoother phrasing, more-confident double-timed lines, greater variety of tone, and improved intonation in string bending and finger vibrato. His melodic blues reflected the sophistication and harmonic awareness of Gary Moore and Larry Carlton in “Night Life” and “Why Am I Crying” while the droning passacaglia (variations over a repeated bass pattern) “Midnight Promises” recalled earlier Beatles’ inspirations a la “Dear Prudence.” His unflagging jazz influence was subtle and contextual, like the imaginative use of pedal-steel for chromatic changes and soloing in “Night Life” and the fluid modal melodies tucked into solos and fills. “Trouble in Dixie” captured the feeling of new country-rock a la Garth Brooks and Travis Tritt, while “Mexico” exploited ethnic colors, a pop-rock harmony-guitar riff and alluded to ’80s shred in the solo’s blistering lines.


    “This Ol’ Cowboy” became Caldwell’s theme song. The earliest version opened Where We All Belong, but subsequent takes took it to greater heights and he breathed new life into it on Son of the South. Toy originally played the song on his ES-350 for a warmer jazz tone, and later found similar fullness with his 335s. Influenced by players like Hank Garland, the intro exploits a jazz-based approach using arpeggio lines through the D-Bm-A-G chord progression. Toy personalized the sequential phrase with raked chicken-picked articulation, which split the difference between country and bebop. The chicken pickin’ was also applied to his opening fill in bar 4. The elegant hook in 5-9 incorporates a smooth jazz/pop melody and strong rhythmic drive with extensive syncopation, channeling a hint of Miami Latin with jazz-rock and R&B leanings. The lead fill of pentatonic and diatonic melody in 10-12 further exemplifies Toy’s blend of jazz, country, and rock.


    ESSENTIAL LISTENING
    Best of Marshall Tucker is a serviceable intro, while Where We All Belong, Stompin’ Room Only, Marshall Tucker, and Son of the South are highly recommended.

    ESSENTIAL VIEWING
    MTB’s ’73 Grand Opera House concert in Macon, Georgia, an ’81 New Jersey show, clips from “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert,” “Can’t You See” with Travis Tritt and Mark O’Connor, and his TV appearance on “Bobby Bare and Friends” are online highlights.

    SOUND
    Caldwell’s main guitar in MTB was an early-’70s sunburst Les Paul Standard with vintage PAFs and strung with Ernie Ball Slinkys (.011-.048). He also used a sunburst post-CBS Strat (“Searchin’ for a Rainbow”) and Gibson ES-350T (“This Ol’ Cowboy” and “Desert Skies”) for jazz tones. He later acquired a ’64 Strat and ’50s ’Burst. By ’79, he favored ES-335 Studio models with trapeze tailpieces and no sound holes. His blond 335 sported block inlays and a pickup selector on the upper bout, while a newer Cherry Red had an unbound dot-inlay board. His primary acoustic guitars were a Guild J-50 and National resophonic. He played a Marlen doubleneck pedal-steel, heard on MTB country tracks and his solo album as well as sessions with Elvin Bishop, Hank Williams, Jr., and Charlie Daniels.

    In MTB, he used a Y-cord to plug into two early-’70s silverface Fender Twins (mounted in smaller cabinets) mated to two Marshall cabinets, each with four JBL K120 speakers.


    Wolf Marshall is the founder and original editor-in-chief of GuitarOne magazine. A respected author and columnist, he has been influential in contemporary music education since the early 1980s. His books include 101 Must-Know Rock Licks, B.B. King: the Definitive Collection, and Best of Jazz Guitar, and a list credits can be found at wolfmarshall.com.


    This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2022 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.