Guitar Jam

A Fan's Notes: A Mind-blowing McLaughlin Memory

By Chip Lovitt
For me, the best and most memorable concerts are like revelations.

Like when you hear some amazing musician stretch the boundaries of a sound, style or technique, and take them to a new place, one you hadn’t imagined before. Or when a guitarist expands the sonic possibilities of his or her instrument to create unique and previously unheard sounds.

I’ve had more than my share of those moments—the first times I saw Jimi Hendrix, Pat Metheny, Bill Frisell, Duane Allman dueling with Dickie Betts, or Michael Hedges, just to name a few.

However, in terms of discovering the power and potential of the electric guitar, one concert stands out in my mind—not only because it was a great show, but because it was an adventure, a fondly remembered road trip a bunch of us guitar-crazed college kids took one cold, dark winter night some 35 years ago. The show was a major eye-opener in terms of my education as to what an electric guitar could do. And it was capped off by a cool post-concert experience to boot.

It was in the winter of 1972. I was a college sophomore in a frozen upstate New York town twenty miles south of the Canadian border. A bunch of us caught wind of a good triple bill at RPI—Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute—in Troy, New York. The show featured Frampton’s Camel (Peter Frampton’s post-Humble Pie band), John McLaughlin and the Mahavishnu Orchestra, and the headliner was the always entertaining, always rocking J. Geils Band. J. Geils had helped close the Fillmore East back in the summer of 1971, and the band was on a roll, reigning as one of the favorite party bands on the college circuit.

We had already heard the Mahavishnu Orchestra’s debut album, Inner Mounting Flame album by then, and we knew that there was something new and amazing going on here. So we piled into a roommate’s huge, pre-SUV era Ford Station wagon (complete with fake wood paneling on the sides), and hit the road. After nearly three hours of driving down snow-covered roads through the Adirondack Mountains, we found ourselves sitting on a cavernous and cold gym floor in front of a huge elevated stage.

Supporting his Winds of Change LP, Peter Frampton and his band delivered a solid set that  was a preview of the reception he would get in a few short years. Frampton was still four years away from issuing his mega-selling live album, Frampton Comes Alive, but he was fresh out of Humble Pie, and like that band, he rocked that night with authority, taste, and a batch of terrific tunes.

Nothing, not even our repeated listenings to Inner Mounting Flame, prepared us for what came next. The Mahavishnu Orchestra took the stage and proceeded to blow the roof off that noisy college gym.

From the opening notes of “Meeting of the Spirits,” we could tell something new and wildly original was going on. I had never seen anyone play as fast, as powerfully, or as adventurously as McLaughlin did. Ripping a torrent of rapid-fire single notes and clusters of jazz-rock chords out of his doubleneck 6- and 12-string Gibson electric, McLaughlin was on fire.

The music was a genre-blending mix that defied easy categorization. It blended jazz elements McLaughlin had honed during his stay in Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew-era band, high-volume, Hendrix-style rock sounds, quirky, shifting rhythms, and out-of-this-world instrumentals laced with traces of Indian classical music. McLaughlin was easily the most intense and original guitar player I’d ever heard up to that point. The chord progressions, like the ones he was using in “Dance of Maya,” were so far removed from the basic I-IV-V’s I’d been flogging for years, that my head began to spin. And dressed all in white, McLaughlin—a disciple of Sri Chinmoy at the time— almost seemed like a mystical figure on stage.

And McLaughlin was not the only virtuoso in the band.

Jan Hammer on Fender Rhodes and synthesizer was more than a match for Mahavishnu. Bending notes and doubling McLaughlin’s lightning-fast lines, he also seemed to be taking his instrument to a place where few keyboardists had gone before.

Billy Cobham was like no other drummer I had ever seen either. Built like an NFL linebacker, Cobham played with a power and intensity that was light years beyond 99% of the rock drummers I’d previously heard. Plus, he had the biggest drum kit I’d ever seen, complete with a huge gong behind his kit. When he and bassist Rick Laird locked in behind the band, the sound was massive.

To those of us whose idea of violin was either classical violin or bluegrass fiddle, Jerry Goodman’s electric violin also seemed like a radically new sound as well.

By the time the Mahavishnu Orchestra played “Awakening,” we knew we had experienced one. It was like our ears had been opened for the first time to a new style and sound, one that would soon snowball into what would become known as fusion in the coming months and years. After bowing humbly with hands clasped in a prayer-like pose, McLaughlin left the stage, leaving us dazed but elated.

Normally, it would have been party time, rocking out to J. Geils’ hits like “Whammer Jammer,” “Looking for a Love,” and “First I Look at the Purse.” I was and still am a big J. Geils fan, but that night their music just didn’t hold us. After McLaughlin’s set, it was hard to get excited about blues-rock, no matter how right and tight it was. After the Mahavishnu Orchestra, J. Geils seemed like a bar band—not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Somehow that night, the pre-conceived limits and boundaries our 19-year-old, guitar-addled brains previously recognized got blown away and utterly demolished. So we left halfway through J. Geils’ set, and hit the road for a midnight ride back up to the frozen wastes of New York’s North Country. But first, we needed gas. So we stopped at a gas station near the entrance to the NY State Thruway.

As we filled the tank, our breath turning into icy vapor clouds in that frigid upstate cold, a white Econoline van pulled up to the pump next to us. A man in white stepped out of the van to ask us how to get back to New York City. We could barely believe our eyes. It was Mahavishnu himself. Asking us for directions.

The guy had just completely and utterly blown away our all our schoolboy notions about jazz and rock, and shown us a new dimension in electric guitar playing and he was asking us for direction? Luckily, we knew where the southbound entrance ramp to the Thruway was, and we pointed Mahavishnu in the right direction. Those of us who were not struck speechless, complimented him on the show, and he humbly thanked us before driving off. We were still totally buzzed by the encounter when we hit the college campus at 3:30 AM.

Sometimes people ask me how I remember these concerts. The real question is how could I ever forget an experience like this one.

A Fan's Notes: 2006: It Was a Very Good Year

By Chip Lovitt
‘Tis the season to be jolly…and to issue top ten lists, so let me join the crowd. I’ve seen a lot of concerts this year—what else is new—and there wasn’t a bad one in the bunch. But there were some shows that really stood out. Here’s my personal live music highlight reel.

Jeff Beck, the Hammerstein Ballroom NYC, September 12, 2006
I know my fellow columnist, Larry Dobrow (Whammy Bar), says Jeff has been phoning it in for a while. BUT, (and it’s a big but), Jeff Beck playing the phone book is better than millions of guitar players playing the Encyclopedia Britannica. At the Hammerstein, Beck once again demonstrated what one can do with a cranked up Strat and amp, a whammy bar, and just your fingers. I for one will never get tired of hearing Jeff play “Beck’s Bolero.” I don’t care how old it is. Great guitar work from one of the masters of the instrument. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

John Fogerty, the Beacon Theater NYC, December 1, 2006
After years of legal disputes, John Fogerty has clearly taken back ownership, both legally and musically, of his Creedence Clearwater Revival catalog. He attacked that legacy with amazing energy and fervor at the Beacon. Brandishing Les Pauls, Teles, and acoustic guitars, Fogerty cranked out nearly 40 tunes, 30 of ‘em CCR hits, and the rest the best of his solo career. He had a terrific band, including three guitarists and one of my favorite powerhouse drummers, Kenny Aronoff. The way Fogerty was running around the stage, you’d never know the guy was in his 60s. It was a GREAT show start to finish, one that reaffirms one’s faith in the power of rock ‘n’ roll.

Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris, Radio City Music Hall, June 22, 2006
Emmylou Harris’ vocal harmonies could make anyone—even me—sound good, but the pairing of her with Mark Knopfler is a match made in musical heaven. Between the two of them, the pair has a seemingly endless repertoire of terrific songs, and wonderful vocal chemistry. The show was in support of the pair’s All the Roadrunning CD, but it also featured Dire Straits tunes and Emmylou’s solo work. Add in a fine band of multi-instrumentalists playing electric and acoustic guitars, dobro, pedal and lap steel, and more, and the result was an unforgettable show.

Chris Isaak, The Beacon Theater NYC, August 17, 2006
I’ve always believed if you put a fine singer-songwriter in front of a time-tested band with real chemistry and genuine musical friendships (like the E-Street Band), you get a memorable show. Great hook-filled songs and a terrific band, what else is there is to say? Well, add in the suit embroidered with hundreds of tiny mirrors that Chris wore during the encore–imagine a human mirror ball effect–well, you get the picture. Isaak, a funny guy with a charming stage presence, played lots of his trademark sad songs. But, strangely enough, you feel good listening to them. And when he rocks out, he does it with authority and style.

Paul Simon, Radio City Music Hall, October 21, 2006
Once again, Paul Simon came into town with a big, multi-national band and, to quote the lyrics from “Late in the Evening,” he blew that room away. For me, Paul Simon is a national treasure, with a songbook that stretches from his Simon and Garfunkel days to the present. With a healthy helping of songs from  S&G classics, Graceland and the rest of his solo career, Simon covered a lot of musical ground, both career-wise and style-wise. Plus he’s no slouch when it comes to guitar playing either. What can I say? I’m still crazy about Paul Simon’s music after all these years. (As an added treat, dobro master Jerry Douglas opened the show.)

CSNY. The Theater at Madison Square Garden, NYC August 27, 2006
I got snowed into paying $250 for a ticket to CSNY’s New York show. But it was totally worth it to sit in the third row of this smallish venue within the Garden complex, and see a band that I’ve loved since 1969, still in such good form. It was basically Neil Young driving the show, contributing the most songs and most impassioned guitar work on “Old Black,” his ’53 Bigsby-equipped Les Paul. But Crosby and Nash’s harmonies still are magic. Stephen Stills still plays a mean Telecaster, and despite their rocky history, he and Neil still have that great guitar chemistry. It would have been a nostalgic stroll down Memory Lane, except for the fact that Neil Young’s Living with War tunes are as relevant as it gets today. I, for one, have no trouble with rock mixing with politics, and this was a powerful multi-media show with a stinging anti-war message, as well as great musicianship and lots of cool guitars and amps to scope out. To paraphrase one of Neil’s recent tunes, “good to see you guys again.”

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and Trey Anastasio, Madison Square Garden, June 20, 2006
Like I said earlier, put a terrific singer-songwriter in front of a tight band of musical buddies, and you’ve got the makings of a great show. Besides Tom Petty’s seemingly limitless reservoir of memorable tunes, the show also featured several cool duets with Steve Nicks, and a rousing opening set by Trey Anastasio. One particular highlight was when the Heartbreakers did a mini-tribute to the ‘60s British Invasion featuring rave-ups of the Yardbirds’ “I’m a Man,” and Fleetwood Mac’s 1969 classic, “Oh Well.” Petty and Mike Campbell are one of the great rhythm-lead guitar combinations in rock, and the rest of Heartbreakers are no slouches either. Plus if you were looking through binoculars, you could scope out all these great vintage guitars—Gretsches, Gibsons, Ricks, Telecasters, and more. It was a guitarfest in every way.

Larry Carlton and Robben Ford, IMAC Theater Huntington NY, March 17, 2006
Do I have to say anything else? Two great masters of the electric guitar, strutting their jazz-rock stuff, all with the greatest of taste, tone and sheer melodicism. For a change, I’m speechless. It was that good.

Bruce Cockburn, Ethical Cultural Center, NYC  September 16, 2006
A college buddy booked this Canadian singer-songwriter-guitar virtuoso at my upstate New York college in 1974, and I’ve been a fan ever since. Thirty-plus albums later, I still buy tickets to his shows every time he comes to my neighborhood. Cockburn (pronounced Co-burn) used to play the late, great club, The Bottom Line, most years, but this venue is a wonderful substitute. It’s like a church, so the sound is sweet and clear and Cockburn and his band were heavenly. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist that one.) Cockburn has a deep catalog of compelling tunes at his disposal, including solo acoustic instrumentals, but it was a treat to see him with a band this time around. His is music from the heart and the brain, all delivered with a unique fingerstyle guitar backup. Where do I sign up for tickets for the next tour?

Richard Thompson  Tarrytown Music Hall November, 3 2006
I’ve been a fan of this talented singer-songwriter-guitarist since his days with Fairport Convention in the 1960s. I’ve seen him dozens of times since and he just keeps getting better and funnier all the time. Thompson is a master, a one of a kind guitar player with a forty-year catalog of catchy, clever and compelling songs. He was playing solo, but he makes his guitar sound like an orchestra with his unique fingerstyle guitarwork. I personally will never get tired of hearing him play the motorcycle-inspired tune, “Vincent Black Lightning 1952.”

Honorable mentions include James Taylor solo at the Beacon, Texas troubadour Robert Earl Keen at Westport CT Arts Center, and Laurence Juber at the Turning Point which would be in my top ten if I hadn’t devoted a whole column to him a while back.

I can’t wait for the 2007 season to start. Keep on rocking in the free world.

A Fan’s Notes: Chip & Matt’s Excellent Rock Adventure

By Chip Lovitt
In my last column, I had the pleasure of writing about one of my favorite contemporary guitarists, Laurence Juber. In this column, I’m going to stroll down Memory Lane again and revisit one of my fondest concert memories. 

And it’s not just about wallowing in nostalgia either. This is actually a story about how the ghosts of one’s rock ‘n’ roll past can sometimes meet up with one’s rock ‘n’ roll present. This is a true story. It happened to me

This show was a double bill consisting of the Byrds—of one of my favorite bands of the ‘60s—and NRBQ, a band whose music I’ve enjoyed for more than three decades.

The setting: The high school auditorium at Baldwin (NY) High School

The date: December 7, 1969, Pearl Harbor Day, a day that may “live in infamy,” in the history books, but it’s also a date that will live in my memory forever…or at least as long as I have a memory.

To have a legendary band like the Byrds play at a your high school was a very rare treat. Plus, the opening act for the Byrds was the first incarnation of NRBQ, a band that would go on to become one of rock’s great road bands.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Where do I start?  I guess with my best friend Matt–who I mentioned in an earlier column about classic Who concerts at the Fillmore East.

Matt was president of the General Organization, or G.O. at Baldwin High School, a typical Long Island, NY, suburban high school. Each fall, 2000 students at BHS paid five bucks for a G.O. card. The $10,000 the cards raised paid for after-school activities, sports equipment and the like. The card also got you into football and basketball games, school dances, and thanks to Matt, a concert or two. *

Matt, like me, was a rock fanatic. We were two 17-year-old seniors with a bad case of rock ‘n’ roll pneumonia and the boogie-woogie flu. Well, Matt got on the phone and called several New York City talent agents, and managed to book the Byrds and NRBQ for a show on our school stage that winter evening. The price was $800 for NRBQ. $2000 for the Byrds.

NRBQ was in its original quintet form, with Terry Adams on keyboards, guitarist Steve Ferguson, bassist Joey Spampinato, singer Frankie Gadler, and drummer Tom Staley. The Q was ripping and rocking through a high-energy set as 7:30 approached. That was supposedly the time when the Byrds were to take the stage.  However, by 7 PM, there was still no sign of the Byrds.

When Matt worried out loud that the Byrds were late, the band’s road manager looked at him, and said with a half-smile, half-sneer, “Hey kid, these guys have been doing this since before you were born.”

Sure enough, the Byrds arrived shortly thereafter. The 1969 version of the Byrds consisted of Roger McGuinn on his trademark Rickenbacker 12-string, the versatile multi-instrumentalist Gene Parsons on drums, Skip Battin on bass, and Telecaster Master and bluegrass great, Clarence White, on lead guitar.

When most people think of the Byrds, they think of the first incarnation of the band—McGuinn, David Crosby, Gene Clark, Chris Hillman, etc. That was the classic lineup. The music that band made has no doubt become an important part of rock history.

But that first version of the Byrds never became a durable, long-lived road band.

The lineup of the Byrds that arrived at Baldwin High that night was the best and most durable touring version of the Byrds. And in the winter of 1969, the foursome was playing a steady stream of one-night stands up and down the East coast. Since it was a Sunday night, we got ‘em for a reduced fee.

I got to hang out backstage, watching as the Byrds tuned up and checked their equipment. When I took my seat and the music began, I was instantly mesmerized by the steady stream of classic songs, the jingle-jangle of McGuinn’s 12-string and Clarence White’s amazing guitar work.

White’s style was unique. He had taken his bluegrass roots, electrified them, and added some Buck Owens/Don Rich-influenced, Bakersfield twang. Then he combined those elements with a unique behind-the-beat syncopated style, and ended up a leading session guitarist in L.A. in the mid-to late 1960s. If producers couldn’t get James Burton, they often called Clarence White. Hired to add some lead guitar work to the Byrds’ 1967 LP, Younger than Yesterday, Clarence eventually joined the Byrds as a full-time member in 1968.

Listening to him play that night, he sounded like no other guitar player I’d ever heard. Only later would I learn he was playing a B-bender-equipped Tele. The Byrds rocked the auditorium with hits like “Mr. Tambourine Man,” “Turn, Turn, Turn,” “Eight Miles High,” and more. It might just have been the coolest day of my high school life.

At the time, however, I had no idea that someday Clarence White would become one of my Telecaster heroes. Tragically, he died in 1973 when a drunken driver slammed into him as he loaded equipment into a van after a bluegrass gig with The Kentucky Colonels.

I look back, and to this day, I regret I didn’t have the nerve to approach him and chat about Telecasters, and maybe get an autograph from him and McGuinn. But, hey, I was just a 17-year-old electric guitar wannabee, as opposed to my current status as a 50-plus electric guitar wannabee.

But to sit ten feet away from two of my favorite guitar players on my home turf was a thrilling experience, one I’ve never forgotten. The show was also influential in terms of my tastes in guitars. It’s no coincidence that my guitar collection includes a Rick 12-string and a Parsons-White B-bender-equipped Telecaster.

Now here’s where my rock and roll past meets up with my rock and roll present.

Cut to May, 2005.

As I said, NRBQ, in its original quintet form, opened that 1969 show and they delivered a great set. I became a devoted NRBQ fan that night, and would see the band a dozen times and buy a boatload of their albums. Little did I realize that 36 years later, I would have a chance to reminisce about the Byrds-NRBQ show with some of the members of the band.

In April, 2005, I read an Internet post that said NRBQ would be doing two special shows in May at the Calvin Theater in Northhampton, MA. The show promised to reunite all the members of the band, including the original quintet who played BHS back in 1969, plus “Big Al” Anderson, the Telecaster-wielding singer-songwriter who had contributed not only some great lead guitar to the band for two decades, but had written quite a few classic Q tunes. Anderson, currently an in-demand Nashville-based songwriter and solo recording artist, had agreed to take a break from his busy schedule to rejoin his old bandmates for the weekend.

It was an offer I couldn’t refuse either. I bought a ticket for the Saturday show and made a reservation at a local hotel.

The night of the show, as I drove out of the hotel parking lot, I noticed two guys walking out of the hotel carrying horn cases and walking toward the road to town. There had been a local high school prom at the hotel, so I assumed they were in the prom band. When I stopped to let them cross the street—I brake for musicians—they said thanks, and asked me for a ride into town.

As they got in, I asked them where they were going. They said the CalvinTheater. When I said I was heading there myself, they introduced themselves—Tyrone Hill (trombone) and Dave Gordon (trumpet). To my surprise and delight, they said they were part of NRBQ's horn section for the two shows.

I was going to drop them off, but as payback for my chauffeur duties, they invited me backstage, where I got to meet some of the band members, past and present. I got to talk with “Big Al” about Telecasters (although he was playing a Sadowsky Tele that night), chat with bassist and guitarist Joey and Johnny Spampinato, and the Q’s original guitarist and drummer, Steve Ferguson and Tom Staley. (I also got to meet former Lovin’ Spoonful front man, John Sebastian, who would also jam with the band that night.)

Drummer Tom Staley had left the band in 1976, but when I mentioned that NRBQ had played my high school nearly 36 years earlier, he remembered the gig clearly. “That was the only show we played with the Byrds,” Tom recalled. At that moment, I realized my rock ‘n’ roll past had just collided full-tilt with my rock present. For a rock fan like me, it just doesn’t get any cooler than that.

The vibe only got better as NRBQ delivered several hours of high-energy, hook-filled tunes, ranging from the wonderfully wacky early Q favorites like “Flat Foot Floozy” and “Howard Johnson’s Got His Hojo Working,” to later “hits” like “Me and the Boys,” and “Green Lights.”

It was a party start to finish and after the show, nearly all the band members came out to sign autographs, chat with the fans and reminisce about NRBQ gigs gone by. Nicest guys a fan could ever meet.

The two shows that weekend were filmed for a possible DVD release. Unfortunately, that has not materialized. That’s too bad, as it was the show of a lifetime for a band that’s been one of the hardest-working, most road-tested rock bands ever.

Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Till next time, keep on rocking in the free world.

Email Chip: [email protected]

* That spring Matt would also book the great ‘60s folksinger Phil Ochs for a show on the same stage.

Laurence Juber: He’s Got the World On Six Strings

By Chip Lovitt
A few columns ago, I asked the question: Is instrumental guitar music a genre only guitar players can love? In the feature, I wrote about how a single guitar can produce a symphony of sounds, even without vocals. For many of us, it’s a special pleasure hearing what a great guitarist can do with a lone guitar, with or without an amp, as he or she explores the sonic possibilities and potential of this instrument that we love.

I got another demonstration of that recently when I, along with about 75 other guitar music fans, got to see British-born fingerstyle guitarist Laurence Juber in action at a small club in upstate New York. Juber, a two-time Grammy winner, is known to some as the lead guitarist for Paul McCartney and Wings in the mid-to-late 1970s. However, he’s also known as a master acoustic fingerstyle guitarist and one of the foremost practitioners of DADGAD tuning.

It’s been said that the guitar is a “portable orchestra.” You’ve got bass strings to thump out the beat, middle strings to add color and depth, and high strings to pick out a melody. Juber’s skillful playing provides ample proof that the guitar is indeed a portable orchestra. At the show I saw, Juber utilized the full capabilities of the acoustic guitar with dazzling results.

Besides his precise fingerpicking and unusual tunings, Juber has a lot of techniques and tricks in his musical tool box. He uses slapping, tapping, ascending and descending bass runs, classical guitar elements, and harmonics all over the fretboard (and not just those at the 5th, 7th and 12th frets). In one impressive demonstration of his skill and precision, Juber used his right (strumming) hand to tap the bass strings behind his fretting hand, which utilized pull-offs and hammer-ons to complement those tapped bass runs. Using his right hand, he also complemented his chord work by slapping and tapping the various parts of the body of his guitar to beat out drum-like, percussive sounds.  Combine all that with Juber’s mastery of DADGAD tuning (and a CADGAD variation) tuning, the result is as unique and original an acoustic guitar style as one will hear today. (Juber joked that he is also considering using an ADDADD tuning, which he says is “great for very short tunes.”)

Now all this technique and fancy fingerwork may be impressive, but it wouldn’t mean all that much without strong melodies and songs to go with them. Juber’s got no shortage of those in his catalog. Besides his own original compositions, Juber showcased a variety of tunes from his most recent CD, “I’ve Got the World on Six Strings,” a tribute to the great songwriter Harold Arlen. Among the tunes he did were “Get Happy,” “Stormy Weather,” “Over the Rainbow,” and a delightful romp through “If I Only Had a Brain” from the movie The Wizard of Oz. He then segued into a Chet Atkins-style fingerpicking demonstration on the jazz standard, “All of Me,” followed by a delightful version of Henry Mancini’s “Pink Panther Theme,” (the tune that won him one of his Grammy awards), complete with those sliding bass note riffs from that tune’s famous introduction.

His two-plus hour show also featured Fab Four cover tunes from his wonderful LJ Plays the Beatles CD, including “Strawberry Fields Forever,” “Things We Said Today,” “In My Life,” “You Won’t See Me (in CADGAD tuning), and a beautiful rendition of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.” He also did a lovely version of Eric Clapton’s “Layla.”

Juber also provided an ample helping of tunes from his recent One Wing CD, which features instrumental versions of Paul McCartney and Wings hits such as “Band on the Run,” “Maybe I’m Amazed,” “Mull of Kintyre,” and “Another Day.”

I have to admit I always found Wings tunes—with some exceptions-- somewhat lightweight compared to McCartney’s Beatles tunes. But when Juber played those tunes on his signature Laurence Juber model Martin guitar, somehow the strength of McCartney’s melodies became much more apparent and appealing to me. It may be heresy to some McCartney fans, but as a fanatical fan of instrumental guitar music, I found Juber’s treatments of those tunes to be better than the original vocal-based tracks.

At least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I had to drive a round trip of about 100 miles to catch the show, but it was quite worth it, as Juber’s show was one of the most enjoyable instrumental guitar gigs I have seen in years.

*Photo's Courtesy of copyright 2002 by Kenna Love

A Fan’s Notes: More Concert Memories

By Chip Lovitt
In my last column, I began reminiscing about some of my favorite shows from my forty-plus years of concertgoing. If you’ll indulge me again, I’d like to recount three more truly memorable shows I had the good fortune to attend.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse Fillmore East, New York City March 6, 1970

This was Neil Young and Crazy Horse’s second set of post-Buffalo Springfield shows in New York. Joining him that night, in yet another of Bill Graham’s fabled triple bills, were Miles Davis and the Steve Miller Band.

I’d been a huge Buffalo Springfield fan, and had religiously followed Neil’s in-again, out-again career with that legendary band. When the Springfield broke up, I went into mourning, and combed through the rock press to learn what the individual musicians were up to. In early 1970, I learned Neil Young and Crazy Horse were coming to the Fillmore East for a two-night stand, so I bought myself a couple of orchestra seats for five bucks apiece.

Until his second solo album, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, Neil still seemed to be standing in the Springfield’s rather large shadow. The Fillmore shows clearly demonstrated he was emerging as musical force all his own.

He began simply with a solo acoustic set. Sitting on a wooden chair on starkly empty stage, with just a Martin guitar and mike, he delivered quiet, but powerful versions of songs he had written and recorded with the Springfield: “On the Way Home,” “I Am a Child,”  “Broken Arrow,” and “Expecting to Fly.” He ended the set with his classic autobiographical tune, “Sugar Mountain,” which at the time was only available to us Neil fanatics as an obscure B-side to the “Cinnamon Girl” single.

After a break, he returned for an electric set with Crazy Horse in all their ragged glory. Kicking off with “Everyone Knows This is Nowhere,” it was a guitar fest start to finish, with Young and rhythm guitarist Danny Whitten filling the Fillmore with a fevered, fuzzed-out, feedback-laced sound. The set’s high points were electrifying and extended versions of  “Down by the River,” and “Cowgirl in the Sand,” with “Cinnamon Girl,” sandwiched between them. I would see Neil Young and the Horse many times after this, but this show was something special, a confirmation that the talent and tunefulness Neil Young had shown with the Springfield was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

Interestingly enough, it’s been announced that the Neil Young Archives will issue a “new” Neil Young and Crazy Horse CD featuring none other than this March 6, 1970 show. While the acoustic set is said to be lost or unavailable (except for bootlegs), the electric set—with the exception of Cinnamon Girl”—will be included.)

The show was noteworthy, too, not only for a rockin’ set by the pre-Fly Like An Eagle Steve Miller Band (“Space Cowboy,” “Livin’ in the USA,” etc.), but it was also my introduction to Miles Davis, whose band that night featured Dave Holland on bass, Chick Corea on keys, Wayne Shorter on sax, and Jack DeJohnette on drums. I’m not sure I actually understood what Miles was doing at the time, but it was an ear-opening experience, and it would not be long before I was wearing out copies of Bitches’ Brew and In a Silent Way.

Bob Marley  Madison Square Garden, New York City, June 17, 1978

In 1978, Bob Marley was promoting his Kaya LP (featuring the wonderfully titled, and wonderfully tuneful lead-off track, “Easy Skanking,” whatever that meant), and he and the Wailers came to Madison Square Garden to promote the record. It seemed as if half of Brooklyn’s Jamaican community showed up for the affair, and it didn’t take long for Marley to get the crowd grooving as one.

I wasn’t very knowledgeable as a reggae fan at that point, but you really didn’t have to be to feel the power, and experience the larger-than-life presence that Bob Marley had. It was a party, for sure, but Marley’s music also had a serious side—messages about peace, power, brotherhood and love—all delivered in that seemingly easygoing, but hypnotic style that Marley was famous for.  “Get Up, Stand Up,” “No Woman, No Cry,” Lively Up Yourself,” and of course, “I Shot the Sheriff,” were four of the tunes I remember. The sounds and feelings, plus that indescribable Rastaman vibration, utterly resounded in that oversized sports arena. I would almost swear the place levitated that unforgettable night. And when Marley sang “One Love,” and exhorted the crowd to “get together and feel all right,” there wasn’t a person in the 20,000-seat arena who didn’t. I may not have been a reggae fan when I went into the Garden, but I was when I left.

Danny Gatton Tribute, Tramps, NYC   January 10-12, 1995

Of all the shows I’ve seen, the three-night Danny Gatton Tribute at Tramps in New York City in 1995 stands out. Never have I seen more guitar talent on one stage.

The occasion was a benefit for the family of Danny Gatton, the “world’s greatest unknown guitarist” (according to an 1980s Guitar Player magazine article), who sadly took his own life in October 1994. For those unfamiliar with Danny, let me quote no less an authority than Danny Gatton fan Les Paul. “Danny could play everyone else’s stuff. No one else could play Danny’s stuff,” Les has been quoted as saying.

For those of us lucky enough to catch Danny’s New York gigs at Tramps and the Lone Star Café in the late 1980s and early 1990s, it was always a treat to hear his amazing chops, jaw-dropping technique and all-around virtuosity. But for all his mastery and his unique blend of Telecaster twang, rock and “redneck” jazz, there was always a playful and joyful feel to every Gatton gig.

That’s what brought some of the best guitar players on the planet to the stage at Tramps those three nights, including the legendary James Burton, Albert Lee, Arlen Roth, Les Paul, Warren Haynes, Ronnie Earl, and Les Paul himself.

Telecaster Master Arlen Roth kicked things off with a solemn instrumental slide guitar rendition of the Irish chestnut, “Danny Boy,” and that was just about the last sad song we would hear for three days. Soon after, Albert Lee joined him on stage. Lee, whose lead guitar credits include Eric Clapton’s and Emmylou Harris’ bands, is a speedy superpicker and solo artist in his own right. He and Arlen proceeded to rip it up on an instrumental version of Percy Sledge’s classic hit, “When a Man loves a Woman,” as well as hopped-up versions of Little Richard’s “Lucille,” and the old Roy Head hit, “Treat her Right.” The ensuing guitar duel was like a hot rod race with two souped-up cars pushing each other, pedal to the metal all the way to the end. Later Les Paul joined Albert Lee and the Danny Gatton Band for a rollicking “Let the Good Times Roll.”

After sets from Jim Weider, Popa Chubby, and Warren Haynes, Rock and Roll Hall of Famer James Burton appeared on stage to wild applause. For those not familiar with JB, he’s played with countless stars including Ricky Nelson, Gram Parsons, and both Elvises  (Presley and Costello). Joined by his son, Jeff, on guitar and vocals, and Albert Lee, the trio ripped through a set of oldies, including “That’s Alright, Mama,” “Rip it Up,” “Got My Mojo Workin’,” and more. The crowd went wild, and rightfully so. It’s not often that James Burton leaves his Shreveport, Louisiana home to grace a New York City stage.

Burton and his son would play all three nights, delivering hits like “Mystery Train,”
“Be Bop a Lula,” “Suzie Q,” (on which Burton played lead guitar on the original 1957 Dale Hawkins hit), as well as “Johnny B. Goode,” and Elvis’ “Milk Cow Boogie.”

There were also sets from the indefatigable Les Paul and Ronnie Earl, who delivered a smouldering set of his soulful blues instrumentals.

It was an unforgettable three-night stand, and the all-star lineup was ample testimony to
the respect in which Danny was held by the guitar community. There were several
other Danny Gatton tributes, and while there are reportedly tapes of these shows, none has ever been released. That’s too bad, but then again, Danny Gatton’s own CD catalog speaks for itself.

A Fan’s Notes: The All Time Greats

By Chip Lovitt
As I confessed earlier, when it comes to live music I am a total concerta-holic. I've been lucky to see more than my share of great shows. Born at the right time (1952), in the right place (a Long Island suburb 40 minutes from NYC), I grew up in an era of cheap and easy-to-get tickets. Later, in my boy reporter days, I cajoled press credentials from nearly all the major record companies, so I got more than my share of free tickets, too.

Recently, on an Internet guitar page I frequent, we were asked to name our favorite concert. Like many fans, I can’t pick just one. I have dozens. Indulge me, if you will, while I use my next few columns to stroll down my personal Memory Lane. Here, in no particular order or ranking, are some blasts from my past.

This is a true story. It happened to me.

The Who, Fillmore East May 16, 1969 & June 5, 1969.

This is a two-part story in itself. The Who debuted Tommy at the Fillmore East in the spring of 1969 in a triple bill with Sweetwater and It’s a Beautiful Day. The Who was at the peak of its powers, delivering a set that began with their hits, then segued into Tommy in its entirety. It was sensational—the volume, the songs, Townshend doing his windmills and leaps, Keith Moon drumming like joyful madman and musical anarchist he was, Daltrey singing and swinging those mikes, John Entwistle standing stone-still, delivering the most powerful bass playing I’d ever heard. By the time the Who got done with the performance, WE were exhausted, but totally exhilarated.

Here’s the best part. When my best friend Matt and I entered the Fillmore that night, we noticed Chuck Berry and the great blues guitarist, Albert King, were scheduled to do a show a few weeks later. Matt was a huge Chuck Berry fan, so we picked up a pair of $5.00 tickets that very night—fourth row, center.

Cut back to the Who’s late show in May. Sometime during the show, a fire broke out in the deli next to the Fillmore. A plainclothes fire marshal ran onstage and tried to grab the mike. Legend has it that Townshend—notoriously protective of his stage space—didn’t realize who the interloper was, and delivered a well-placed kick to the plainclothesman’s privates, knocking him into the seats.

The Who were arrested after the show and an arraignment was scheduled for early June in New York. Bill Graham, being the showman that he was, shrewdly signed up the Who for a return gig at the Fillmore the first weekend in June. Billing it as “The Triumphant Return of the Who,” the band was added to the Chuck Berry show, for which we now had fourth row center seats. Tommy had gained even more momentum and the band seemed even more energized by the acclaim. By the time the doors opened in the early morning hours of June 6, we felt just like the deaf dumb and blind boy himself. But the power of that show, well, it was like giving eyesight to the blind.

The Allman Brothers, Arthur Lee and Love and the Grateful Dead, Fillmore East
February 13, 1970.

The Allman Brothers first gig at the Fillmore East was as an opening act for Love and the Grateful Dead. Few knew who the Allmans were at the time, despite the buzz created by their first record. Their landmark 1971 Live at the Fillmore East shows were still a year away. But as soon as the band began playing—with those now-famous twin lead guitar harmonies from Duane Allman and Dicky Betts, the double drumming of Butch Trucks and Jai Johnny Johanson, and Greg Allman’s bluesy vocals and organ work—everyone took notice. With tunes like “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed,” and “Skydog’s” masterful slide guitar gracing tunes like “Statesboro Blues” and “Trouble No More,” the band proceeded to blow the roof off the place.

When the band began jamming on “Mountain Jam,” and then capped it with the riff from “Joy to the World,” everyone realized that a truly great band had arrived. Love and the Dead put on a terrific show, too, but the night belonged to the Allmans. I would see the Allmans many times after that, but as good as they were, there was nothing like the original lineup.

Bruce Springsteen at the Bottom Line August 16th 1975.

A college friend came to visit me in New York City that hot summer day and happened to have an extra ticket. At first, I was tempted to dismiss Springsteen, what with all the hoopla and hype. Then, better judgment took over and I went along for the ride. The place was packed with fans, record execs, and the rock press.

Needless to say, I was utterly blown away. The Bottom Line stage may have been small, but it was a BIG show, and Bruce was both larger than life and a rock ‘n’ roll Everyman in one. And the E-Street Band was just the perfect backup band, totally in tune with the Boss. It was a revelation to me as to what a rock ‘n’ roll band could do and what a rock ‘n’ roll show could be. I suddenly understood exactly what Jon Landau meant when he said he had seen “rock ‘n’ roll future” a year earlier after a ‘74 Boston gig. Between “Born to Run,” “Rosalita,” and the rollicking  Gary U.S. Bonds’ hit, “Quarter to Three,” for an encore, I became a Bruce believer than night and remain one to this day.

Elvis Costello, The Bottom Line, in NYC 1977.

In 1977, I was music editor for Scholastic, Inc. a major publisher of magazines and books for kids. As the resident record reviewer, I got freebies up the gazoo. Free records and all the free tix I could cadge. When I heard My Aim is True, I said this guy is the real deal—a great new songwriter and rock original.  So I did a small review that went into five Scholastic magazines. Turns out though, that a half-page ad dropped out of the magazines at the last minute. So one of the art directors took the postage-sized picture—the classic EC knock-kneed punk pose with the jacket, rolled up blue jeans cuffs, and Fender Jazzmaster—and ran it almost full-page. It was a horribly designed page. No one liked it, except the publicity department at  Columbia Records, who sent a clipping to Elvis’ management company, delightfully named A.R.S.E Management. I got a call from A.R.S.E asking if I’d like to be their guest at the Bottom Line. With a bar tab, too.

It was a great show, with tunes like “Mystery Dance,” “Alison,” “Watching the Detectives,” and more. Plus the Attractions were a great back-up band. It was obvious that Elvis was more than just another British pub- or punk-rocker. In fact, it was clear from the start, a terrific new songwriter and performer had arrived.

Next time: Bob Marley, Neil Young and Crazy Horse, and a guitar-star studded tribute to Telecaster Master, Danny Gatton.

Instrumental Guitar Music—A Genre Only Guitar Players Can Love?

By Chip Lovitt
I recently had the pleasure of seeing Larry Carlton and Robben Ford playing together in front of a crowd of devoted guitar fans, freaks, and fanatics.  Early in the show, Larry Carlton asked how many people in the audience played guitar. He might as well have asked who didn't. Except for a few small children and wives, most of us raised our hands.

While the Carlton Ford show did have some vocals, most of us were there to hear guitar playing--the licks, tone, the taste…maybe scope out the amps and equipment, but I think we were all there for instrumental side…the guitar virtuoso thing.

That got me thinking about the state of instrumental guitar music today. I think it’s amazingly healthy, but at the same time it has to be among the most limited genres in the musical marketplace. Without vocals, guitar virtuosity doesn't really fit into the commercial mix. It sometimes seems that the only people who buy this stuff are guitar players. In reality, there are plenty of non-players who enjoy instrumental guitar music. You don’t have to be a guitarist to love it, but it helps.

A lot of guitar players make a joke when confronted by their favorite guitar virtuosos. They say they're gonna cut off their fingers and quit playing guitar forever. I know how they feel. I usually react differently. I just go out buy their CD. I just can’t get enough of the stuff.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I am a huge fan of instrumental guitar music. So are a lot of my guitar-playing friends. Our record, CD, and tape collections span the alphabet, A to Z, from Chet Atkins to Frank Zappa’s Shut Up and Play Yer Guitar. Me, I can’t even get out of the A’s—Johnny A, John Abercrombie, Jan Akkerman (remember Focus?), Mike Auldridge if you count Dobro players.

Moving into the B’s, there’s James Burton, Jeff Beck, Julian Bream, Kenny Burrell, Jimmy Bryant, Lenny Breau (whose five-CD set on Randy Bachman’s Guitarchives label reinforces—for me at least—his reputation as one of the all-time greats.) Don’t even get me going about Charlie Christian, Danny Gatton, Grant Green, Jim Hall, Johnny Hiland, Albert Lee, Brent Mason (and all those other Nashville cats playing “clean as country water”), Pat Metheny, Wes Montgomery, John McLaughlin, Joe Pass, Howard Roberts, and all the acoustic wizards, just to name a few.

For me, this obsession began with those classic 1960’s surf instrumentals—“Wipeout,” “Walk Don’t Run,”  “Pipeline,” three mainstays of any self-respecting garage band circa 1964-66. There was also this LP, The Ventures in Space, with the cut “Out of Limits.” The intro fused the four-note Twilight Zone riff with an E, G A C chord progression. I was hooked. Any fool could play it, and I did. A lot. I still slip into it when an E-based jam goes on too long.

In the early ‘70s, I would discover the acoustic side of instrumental guitar via fingerpickers like Mississippi John Hurt, Reverend Gary Davis, John Fahey, Stefan Grossman, and British folkies like the two guitar wizards of Pentangle, Bert Jansch and John Renbourn. Back then everyone learned to fingerpick the tune Angie. Not the Stones song, but the A minor exercise written by Davey Graham. I learned it off a Paul Simon recording.  Steve Howe's live version of the “The Clap”  was the next acoustic tour de force that knocked my socks off.  From there, it was a short trip to Michael Hedges, Adrian Legg, Tony Rice, Tommy Emmanuel…etc. (Mind you, I don’t try and play ANY of their stuff. I’m a fan, remember.)

In 1974, I heard John McLaughlin and the Mahavishnu Orchestra and it changed the way I heard electric guitar music forever. I’d never heard anything as heavy as that, and I still listen to McLaughlin’s music--whether it’s his Shakti records or the pre-Mahavishnu acoustic stuff he did on early recordings like My Goal’s Beyond.  One of my favorite McLaughlin guitar pieces of all time is “Follow Your Heart” off that recording. A couple years ago, I caught Bill Frisell playing the song at the New York’s Village Vanguard. Frisell recorded and released parts of that gig on his East West two-CD set, but “Follow Your Heart” didn’t make it onto the CD, much to my disappointment. 

John Jorgenson is a guitarist I first heard when he played in Chris Hillman’s Desert Rose Band in the mid-‘80s. Later I got to see him with his fellow Hellecasters, Will Ray, and Jerry Donahue. (Don’t even get me going about Jerry and all the other Masters of the Telecaster. I have all their CDs, too.)

Last week I heard Jorgenson and his excellent quintet play two hours of swinging Django-inspired gypsy jazz in support of his Franco-American Swing CD. Except for one vocal, it was all instrumental. Jorgenson put on a great show, a master at work—and yet a humble Django disciple at the same time. At one point, Jorgenson explained how Django’s third and fourth finger of his fretting hand had been burned and scarred together in a caravan fire, so he couldn’t play with those fingers.

“It’s amazing what you can do with these two fingers,” John said, referring to the first and second fingers of his fretting hand. Over the next three or four minutes, he played every solo at breakneck speed with just those two first fingers. Even the non-guitar playing members of the audience loved the display, and they clapped enthusiastically after each solo. They were probably with, or married to a guitar player though.

I understand when great guitar players include vocals on their recordings so they have more commercial appeal. For most music fans, it’s all about the song, the beat, the lyrics, and/or the vocals. And some guitar virtuosos can “sing.”  I always liked Leo Kottke’s attitude. His first Tacoma LP 6 and 12 String Guitar was an instrumental one. On a follow-up recording, he included some vocals. In the liner notes, he compared the quality of his vocals to “geese farts on a muggy day.” Go for it, is what I say.

But in the right hands, the guitar is capable of singing (and swinging) a song all on its own. That’s what I love about instrumental guitar music. Pete Townshend once sang, “there once was a note, pure and easy, playing so free like a breath rippling by.” Or maybe a lotta notes, played at lightning speed, I dunno. I like both styles.

In the next few weeks I will be hearing Jeff Beck, Laurence Juber, and Bruce Cockburn, who may be best known as a singer-songwriter, but is also an accomplished acoustic guitar instrumentalist. He recently put out Speechless, a compilation of his thirty years worth of solo guitar pieces. Did I mention I can’t get enough of this stuff?

There is a unique sound, spirit, and focus in guitar instrumental music, whether in a solo setting or in an ensemble. It’s a special pleasure hearing what great guitarists can do with a guitar, with or without an amp, as they explore the sonic possibilities and potential of this instrument that we love.

I guess my point is that while instrumental guitar music may be a limited genre in the marketplace, there certainly is no shortage of riches.  Check it out. Support your local guitar virtuoso. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

Contact Chip - [email protected]

A Fan’s Notes

By Chip Lovitt
My name is Chip and I am a concerta-holic. I’ve been addicted to live music since I was 15, and while many of my 50-something contemporaries have given up on live music, I just can’t seem to stop handing my money over to various music venues and on-line ticket sellers.

A major highlight of my summer concert season was the Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers show at New York’s Madison Square Garden. Two plus hours of great tunes, great musicianship, lots of guitars, and some fine Petty-Stevie Nicks duets. The crowd loved the show as much as I did, and thousands showed their appreciation at the end by holding up their cell phones, screens alight.

The sight got me thinking about how concert going has changed since I attended my first concerts as a teenager in the late ‘60s. I go back so far, I can still remember the pre-Bic era when people held up lit matches to call for an encore. (I also recall the 1960s Fillmore East policy where lighting a match for any reason, got you a flashlight beam in the face. (It was fire prevention policy more than anything else. The place, after all, was old.)

Speaking of the Fillmore East, I was also reminded how ticket prices have changed. The first rock concert tickets I bought were for the Schaefer Music Festival in New York’s City Wollman Rink. Perched in a beautiful corner of Central Park, the place attracted top acts for the now unbelievable prices of $1.50 for the bleachers and 2.50 for floor seats.  Graduating to the Fillmore 1968-71, I paid $3-5 for tickets, although Bill Graham would soon add fifty cents to those prices. That now seemingly tiny sum often bought three top acts a night (Neil Young/Steve Miller/Miles Davis; Chuck Berry/Albert King/ the Who; the Allman Brothers, opening for the Dead and Love, led by the late great Arthur Lee, to name just three shows I caught.) For the same price in 1969, lucky fans like me could spend New Year’s Eve, 1969 with Jimi Hendrix.

One amazing thing about that era was that, quite often, even big-name shows took weeks to sell out. CSNY’s June 2-7, 1970 stand at the Fillmore East was the first show I recall that sold out in just a matter of a few hours. (A high school “friend” scalped me a $5.50 ticket for ten bucks. Needless to say, once I got the ticket, that little piece of extortion ended our friendship. But maybe my former friend was just ahead of his time.)

Anyone remember standing on lines for hours at Ticketron waiting for that 10 AM ticket sale start time? No such thing as on-line ticketing in those days. How about wristbands that gained you the privilege of coming back later to stand in line to actually buy tickets. I have to admit, on-line ticket sales are a big improvement and quite convenient. Of course you pay for that in the form of  the cleverly named premium known as the convenience charge.

Back in my distant youth, too, there also was no such thing as annoying corporate sponsorship for a concert tour. I mean what’s next? Pre-show commercials? If those already exist, please don’t tell me, okay?

Ticket prices remained reasonably priced for a long time, but many big shows now can easily strain your budget to the tune of $150 or more. I’m not immune, either, having shelled out more than that to see recent shows by Cream and CSNY. Luckily, there are still plenty of shows one can catch in the $25 to $50 range.

Why do I do it? Plain and simple, there really is nothing like hearing live music. Seeing a terrific performer deliver a set of great music in front of the faithful can be a wonderfully exhilarating experience one remembers for life. I’ll never forget still the time I saw the original Allmans blow the roof off the Fillmore in 1969, seeing the Who perform Tommy from the Fillmore’s fourth row, or how Bob Marley practically levitated Madison Square Garden  at a show during the 1970s.

One thing has not changed and that is the power of live music when it’s presented with talent, taste, style, and flair. I got all four of those things at a recent Chris Isaak concert at NY’s beacon theater. Great tunes, a great band that’d been together for decades, and plenty of showmanship, and great guitars. (Are we seeing a trend here or what?).

I have a musician friend who says it’s great that I support and sustain live music. He’s got it wrong. It really supports and sustains me.