Ry Cooder, "Sonny's playing around here, tomorrow? Where? Man, I'd love to see him, it's been a while. Cincinnati, huh? Boy. I'd really love to make it down there! If I don't make it, please be sure and tell him I said hello, and that I send my best regards."
Sonny Landreth, "You saw Ry last night? Where? I tell ya, he is The Master. It's been quite a while since I've seen him! Man, I sure wish he could have come down. Anyway, that's some good mojo!"
Author/columnist Joe Klein, "This is not business as usual, and I'd love to hear more about the last mayor of Dayton"
A friend sent me a message that I instantly read as cryptic. So cryptic, I couldn't understand it:
"Dude. Ry Cooder. Secret show. Trolley stop. Tonight. 9pm."
To read this note as anything but cryptic seemed a bit unreal. The Trolley Stop is a local tavern that features local music and on very rare occasions, a national act. In fact, even they haven't yet mentioned yet on their Facebook page that on a quiet Wednesday evening in June that not only did one of the greatest American musicians of all time stop in to play a few sets, but that he was accompanied by one of America's most read and revered authors, Joe Klein (Primary Colors' Anonymous).
I called my friend, local guitar wizard repair man and player extraordinaire Christopher Wright, and asked what he meant in this missive. Hell, I'm no cryptographer, I sometimes miss the very writing upon the wall. Turns out that as usual, I had it a bit askew. He meant just what he said. It turns out that Ry is just on the road hanging out with his friend Joe. The author is conducting a road trip across America. In the words of Time Magazine:
"Following previous years’ journeys from New York to Los Angeles and
from Texas to Iowa, Joe Klein has once again hit the road to find out
what people are thinking outside the Beltway. This time he’s traveling
up the East Coast from North Carolina, across the Rust Belt and winding
up in Minnesota—though, in true road trip fashion, the route could
always change.
Along the way he’s meeting with politicians and community leaders, as
well as readers who have invited him into their homes and businesses to
talk about how they’re faring in these difficult times. And a few
special guests are joining Joe as he meanders through the Heartland."
I sat and spoke with Joe (whose name I didn't yet know - he said he was a friend of Ry's) for a few minutes, and I listened as he talked with some local musicians, who would soon be joining Cooder onstage, about the current state of America. What impressed me most was how Klein listened when the musicians spoke. He never pontificated, and he appeared totally absorbed, and completely engaged.
As I stated earlier, I'm occasionally a little slow on the uptake. It had not yet been explained to me that this was The Joe Klein, a guy who has sold more than enough books to fill a library. He had written a novel so dangerous as to deny being its author for quite some time (1996's Primary Colors; A Novel of Politics, based on the 1992 Democratic presidential primary - estimated sales 3 million), a fellow who had been regularly employed by the world's largest publishers, starting with Rolling Stone Magazine as a contributing editor in 1974. In fact, it was his tour on that had placed Cooder in our musical laps for the evening. And here I thought that Ry's friend was just a very bright perceptive fella named Joe.
Here's what Joe had to say about the evening in his blog for Time Magazine's 2012 Swampland coverage of the presidential election:
"Well the big event yesterday was watching the great Ry Cooder jamming with one of his discoveries, a retired meter reader named Dan Gellert - a brilliant country fiddler and banjo player - at the Trolley Stop in Dayton, Ohio"
Dan Gellert is indeed a brilliant musician. After the show I asked how
he had come to know the renowned Cooder. He explained that in the usual
fashion, his music had been passed along to Ry by Gellert's daughter at
Mike Seegers funeral. The astute ethnomusicologist had liked what he
heard and called Dan up and asked if he'd enjoying jamming a bit when Ry
came to Ohio. Dan agreed, and the die was cast. The veteran fiddler
supplied the tunes, some great fiddling, a bit of plucky banjo work, and
a vocal style that fit like a pair of well worn work boots. Cooder did
as he always does, and unobtrusively became an organic part of the
music. He played an ancient Gibson L series guitar that had been
generously supplied by the neighboring picking parlor, Recreate.
Everyone had a great time, and Cooder and Klein seemed to have successfully completed their mission of a night out with some libations, some music, and lots of good conversation.
The first thing I had said to Ry had been, "You know, I thought Sonny Landreth was gonna be the only great slide player I'd be seeing this week!"
Last month, I stated here that Sonny Landreth's new album Elemental Journey was the veteran guitarists' best album ever, and maybe the best instrumental guitar album of 2012. I had a chance to see Landreth live last night at Cincinnati's 20th Century Theater and the show shone as brightly as the new record.
Accompanied by bassist Dave Ranson, and drummer Brian Brignac, Landreth wooed the capacity crowd with another master class on slide guitar. Combining an intoxicating stew of Cajun/Zydeco, rock and roll, blues and a sensational sense of harmonic sophistication, Landreth held the crowd in a hand for the almost two hours, and the crowd adored him.
Classifying Landreth's heady mix has never been easy, and with his latest album he has upped the ante by going all instrumental and incorporating strings, steel drums and guest cameos by heavy hitters Joe Satriani and Eric Johnson. The cool thing about this is that it is one fabulous ride, even if you can't quite give it a name. Landreth and band absolutely smoked on the tunes from the new record, even without the strings, Steve Conn's great keyboard work, and the superstar sidemen. His rhythm section was on fire - Brignac is a whirling dervish of a drum, with rock horsepower and brilliant versatility; Dave Ranson has been sharing stages with Landreth for over twenty years, and he is both solid and adventurous. One of the joys of listening to Landreth's phenomenal guitar histrionics is in hearing how fast he can change directions, and going along for the ride as he howls one moment, whispers the next, and then seems to inexplicably do both simultaneously.
Had Hendrix ever seen Sonny Landreth, the Seattle sensation may have had a similar reaction to Landreth's otherworldly technique as did Townshend, Beck, and Clapton to Jimi. He may have just wanted to quit. He wouldn't have, but for a moment there would be that recognition of the fact that no one can do what this man is doing. The question of who is the world's greatest slide guitarist is a stupid question. There's the ever incredible Derek Trucks, his band mate an fellow Duane disciple Warren Haynes, and the aforementioned Ry Cooder, just to name a few. Of the bunch, no one does quite what Landreth does - his style is honed of genius. No one before him did quite what he does, and no one seems to have come even close to approaching an approach to his combination of slithery slide and sure fingered fretting. I won't even go into the proficiency of the man's right hand. But, I will say that watching and listening to this fine Southern gentleman had me giggling like I did when my heroes would amaze my young ears at fifteen, and that doesn't happen too often. Thanks, Sonny.
After the show I had a chance to chat with Sonny, and even after just walking off stage after a whiz bang, non-stop performance, he was warm, kind, and gracious. I told him that Ry Cooder had really wanted to come down and see the show, and Landreth seemed both genuinely humbled and pleased. That's something that I got from both Sonny, Ry, and Joe Klein this last week - they are where and who they are because they are genuinely nice people, on top of being consummate professionals. Each gentleman does his job in a fashion few are able, and they were all extremely unselfish in their approach to others. We can all learn from men such as these.
Thanks to Sonny Landreth and his band, Ry Cooder, Joe Klein, Christopher Wright, Jay Madewell, and the good folks at Conqueroo PR (Cory Baker and Julie Arkenstone).
Veulta Abajo is a brilliant place for Spectrum Road to start their debut album. One of the heaviest rocking pieces of jazz fusion that ever was etched onto vinyl, the tune could easily be mistaken for a King Crimson outtake that got lost on its way through the big top of a passing circus. In paying tribute and homage to The Tony Williams Lifetime, Spectrum Road throws down the gauntlet as Cindy Blackman-Santana unleashes a dizzying drum roll that careens down the straightaway, splitting apart the furious molten metal riffing provided by Vernon Reid's Fripp-a-licious guitaring, John Medeski's howling Hammond organ, and the unstoppable Jack Bruce's bludgeoning bassline. This band is fearless - this record is fantastic. Filling the rather large footprint of Tony Williams' stick work is no mean feat, but from beginning to end, Blackman-Santana drives this band relentlessly with endless chops, sophistication, and a go for the throat energy that leaves one breathless, and smiling.
Born of a conversation almost ten years ago between Reid and Bruce, Spectrum Road started out as a tribute to Williams, but has grown into an entity of its own - Williams' tunes are the guidepost, but while they provide a basic frame, the album is an endless array of brash improvisations, solos, and a sense of accompaniment that always pushes the soloist to push themselves to the outer limits of their huge skill sets. Vernon Reid makes no particular effort to replicate John McLaughlin's original guitar parts, instead, he's simply being himself - at times reminding the listener of the super effected, turbocharged leads that brought him to fame with the woefully underrated Living Colour, and then at times he sounds like the best jazz saxophonist in decades. Where McLaughlin's playing on Lifetime records suggested psychedelia, Reid's suggests extraterrestrials.
Photo by Marek Hofman
Immediately after wrapping up the whirlwind of the first cut, There Comes A Time shows Jack Bruce in amazing voice as the band unveils a sleek slow blues that dances sensually through the extended intro - except for Blackman-Santana. She sounds like a cat on a hot tinned roof, playing perfectly, but in an anything but in an expected manner. As Reid plays some of the most restrained, melodic single string work of his career, the drummer is an acrobat on a bet - a thrill at every turn, but with a sense of surefooted confidence. At the young age of 69, Bruce has never been busier, and has never been more in command of his talents. He's not doing a lot of singing on this record, so when he does you are thrilled as he sounds as if he's lost not a note, and his bass playing is adventurous as ever.
Next up is Going Back Home, based on a Jan Hammer tune, Coming Back Home, from Williams' 1978 album, The Joy of Flying. This would be a fairly standard piece of melodic fusion were it not for the virtuosity on display. Everyone takes a few turns, and this becomes much more than just a pleasant melody. It wonderfully reflects the maturity of these players as they unleash otherworldly chops, and yet manage to not step on one another's toes, or ever seem overly busy. Even as Reid toggles between stating the melody in myriad of subtle variations and some splendid torrents of 64th notes, he does so with an understated grace - something most guitarists will ever comprehend, let alone emulate.
Where finds Blackman-Santana scatting in a stoney Nancy Sinatra sort of way for the first three minutes as Medeski and Bruce weave a web under her tribute to Tony Williams fantastic drumming. Then Vernon Reid brings in some Mid-Eastern flavored fusion that suggests what may have come from Al DiMeola mind melding with Jimi Hendrix. Vernon delivers loads of notes, some sensational swagger, but also some bluesy bends and otherworldly squalls. After Reid pontificates for quite some time, he steps aside and Medeski cuts loose with the gnarliest B-3 solo that I have heard in a great many years. This is a full metal jacket only affair - Reid lays down some incredibly heavy rhythm guitar work, and the keyboardist gets out every hard rock dream he's ever dreamt. At the eleven minute mark, Cindy is back with her rap, and the band takes a minute and a half to come down from a trip that sounds better than anything that went down at Woodstock. This is jazz-rock grown up, and it is Good.
Sounding like a hybrid of Scottish, Indian, and inter-galactic space rock, An t-Eilan Muileach (Isle of Mull) is a Jack Bruce raga meditation on a Scottish classic, sang, of course, in Gaelic. Sitting roughly at the album's midpoint, one could hardly ask for a more thoughtful and pleasant respite. Never so meditative as to become sleepy, again it demonstrates the remarkable musical maturity on tap here.
Cindy Blackman-Santana is often referred to as a Tony Williams acolyte. She has spent untold hours ingesting the master's lessons and has absorbed the teachings and applied them to her own musicianship. Vashkar, the Carla Bley tune from Lifetime's 1969 Emergency album is a number that the drummer has covered on many previous occasions, and this time around it would appear that she has taken it as far as it can be taken. Once again, Vernon Reid is spectacular. The note count alone on this song is astronomical, but he's always exciting and interesting - he never disappears into repetition, or lethargy, largely due to the poking and prodding of three of the heaviest hitters in history keeping him on his toes and moving. Medeski then takes the helm and proceeds to raise the roof with soulful, and exciting Hammond wizardry. This may be one of the few bands on the planet that can make you turn your head away from Jack Bruce, if only for a few minutes.
Bruce returns to the past for One Word, which he originally recorded with Williams in 1970 after he had left the luxurious, but stressful environs of Cream. What's amazing is how much better his voice sounds here than in did 42 years ago. There is more dynamism and energy, as well as straight fire power. I don't know how Bruce has managed to make such a tremendous comeback from a life threatening liver transplant just eight short years ago, but I am ever so grateful to still have him here and making such music. I can't see where this record is much less earth shattering than Cream's were in their day.
When was the last time you heard a mellotron solo? I don't know that I ever had until the original improvisation, Tillmon's Blues, named for Tony William's father a jazz saxophonist, who took Tony to Jazz clubs and had the boy sitting in with the bands by the time he was eleven years old. Not much different is the story of Cindy Blackman-Santana, who discovered the drums at a pool party in her hometown of Yellow Springs, Ohio when she was just seven years old. She simply sat down, started playing, and has never stopped. While she is certainly not a carbon copy of Williams' playing, she has absorbed the essence, the musicality of his musicianship, and that has allowed her to make this music her own. She's definitely bringing more of a rock and roll hammer to the show, and it fits beautifully.
Allah B Praised features the band wearing their rock and roll shoes again, and they maintain a blistering pace for over four minutes of musical daredevilry. It amazes me to hear a superstar such as Bruce functioning strictly as the bass player, and knocking the ball clean out of the park. I always get miffed when someone accuses a star such as, say, Paul McCartney, of laying back, or holding his best licks for his own tunes - time and time again, this is simply not true (listen to Paul's work on Something, or Lennon's Come Together!). Bruce is always a beautiful part of Spectrum Road's rich tapestry.
Spectrum Road ends the second step their journey with a thoughtful and melodic rendition of Wild Life, the only tune they take on from the Allan Holdsworth edition of Lifetime. Vernon Reid rides this out with the magnificence he has displayed throughout the album. I'm not sure where musicians of Reid's rank size up in the eyes of a strange new music business, but two words that should come to mind are virtuoso and superstar. His playing is shining more than it ever has, and he generally shoulders the melodies for this troop. His soloing is sublime, as is John Medeski's.
I can't imagine that this won't lead to another record, and I'm hoping that if there is another, that it will be filled with originals. It's very clear that Spectrum Road has a magic that far exceeds their initial premise. Every member plays as well, if not better than they ever have.
Jack Bruce? Well, don't get me started. The guy seems to be getting better by the moment, having seemingly found the fountain of musical youth and genius. The man is a true inspiration.
At the end of the day, this just might be Mrs. Santana's album. I don't know of any other drummer who has laid it down quite like this in some time in this realm. A magnificent performer, and performance.
Great thanks to Spectrum Road, and Kevin Calabro at Calabro Music Media.
Chris Squire and Steve Hackett are both musical legends. They have been in the upper strata of the world's most incredible musicians for over forty years. Each writes, plays, and sings a challenging sort of music that has come to be known as prog, or fully, progressive rock. Both served time in huge and innovative bands - Squire in Yes, and Hackett in Genesis. Now, the pair have combined to record an outstanding record that highlights the exact skills that have kept them employed, and in the public eye for so many decades. With a nod, I am assuming, to their very Englishness and the humor presumed within, they have chosen a rather awkward, and perhaps silly name. A name I happen to like, but some may find disturbing - a name that belies the wonderfully melodic, dynamic music found in their new record's grooves.
If you're wondering about the title of this review, I'll explain. It is a question that dawned upon me as I heard some very negative comments about Squackett. For the most part, the reviews of this album have been tremendously positive, as this one shall be, as well. However, these negative comments weighed on my psyche - Squire and Hackett have written and recorded their first outing as a team, and have obviously documented music that is very close to their hearts and personal. It is well produced and gorgeous, with both partners contributing to all facets of the production. They have laid their hearts and minds on the line as artists always have, so I would ask naysayers and critics one simple question:
What Shitty Band Are You In?
I can well understand that perhaps not every song of every project a musician may attempt will please every listener. It's appreciated that occasionally, a musician or band will make a misstep, or fail to connect in some way with some fan, some critic. However, for someone to dismiss a fine effort by two extremely seasoned professionals who have done their best and delivered a product well within the parameters of probability and acceptability causes me to wonder just what goes through the mind of someone who reacts with malice, and vitriol. Makes me wonder what they have done that enables and authorizes them to castigate so harshly. It makes me want to ask, "So, what shitty band are you in?"
I don't write about music I don't enjoy, it's that simple. Why would I? Why would I spend valuable time and energy with something that gave me no fulfillment? I could write from now until the very end of time, and not be able to fully express my thoughts about that which I do enjoy, so why waste time with grousing and deriding that which holds little value for me? I get little pleasure from disappointing or angering an artist, or an artist's fans, who most likely have no interest in reading what someone doesn't like about their favorites. I have less than no desire to be amongst the minions who rain down criticism from on high. I'd rather spend my time telling you what I do enjoy about the new Squackett album, and there is much that I enjoy.
I'll be the first to say that I like my prog with liberal dose of pop, and if there are some nice rocking guitars to go along with it, all the merrier. Squackett is above all a song album. Those looking for long stretches of virtuosity may be disappointed, though both Squire and Hackett provide a ton of fire power from their respective instruments.
Hackett's guitar playing is astounding - one minute he is chiming chirpingly and you are dreaming of Brit-pop of the ages, whether it be The Fab Four or XTC, then you blink and he is pushing a crescendo of rapid fire distortion through the atmosphere with his Fernandes Sustainer and Whammy pedal. His histrionics are equally acrobatic and lyrical - for all his shredding (and there is a good deal), his playing is marvelously melodic and in a most unpredictable manner. His style is his own, and his musicianship is developed to the point whereby his inspirations are a long forgotten memory, replaced by his own stamp of creativity. If Squackett were the work of a new talent we'd have a new guitar super hero - as it is we simply have an underrated one.
Chris Squire brings to the table much of what he has always brought. His wickedly wonderful bass playing, marked by the unmistakable tone of his signature series Rickenbacker 4001S coming through a combination of amps and effects, and most generally including a 100 watt Marshall guitar amp, has never been more welcome. Almost identifiable as his playing is his angelic vocal cords, which rang so soothingly next to Jon Anderson's for so many years and records with prog superstars, Yes. Here, the vocals are shared with Hackett (each singing lead on their own compositions) - they weave in, out, and around one another as if they have been doing so forever. Harmonies, unisons, and stacked vocal configurations abound as the vocals throughout the album bring to mind CSN&Y, and The Hollies as much as the pair's prog past. While admittedly there is not a lead voice as distinctive as Anderson in Yes, or Gabriel in Genesis, you will still walk away having listened to one of the most impressive vocal productions in a great while. In a day when harmony, background, and group vocals are relatively rare, this album is a vocal treasure chest.
The album also has a somewhat secret weapon - it comes in the form of longtime a Hackett cohort, producer and keyboardist Roger King. Throughout the proceedings, King does a fantastic job. To my ears this is everything the last Yes album wasn't, but should have been. As a producer, he has done a marvelous job of putting together a record that sounds wonderfully cohesive, especially given that in all likelihood there was little time to woodshed the material, or for the band to spend much time actually in the same room. This is just part of the way that many project type records are made these days due to economic necessity and the fact that a musician can't stand still for long and earn his daily bread. The job that's been done here is pretty great - much akin to the job done by Bill Evans and the members of Flying Colors on their stunning debut earlier this year.
King also provides fabulous atmospheric keyboards on every cut, proving the essential glue that holds together the huge instrumental talents of Squackett. This record sounds like a band, as opposed to this song by Squire, this song by Hackett - there isn't the tremendous amount of challenging interplay that existed in 1970, but it's important to realize that firstly, that is not what these two have set off to create, and secondly, that type of instrumental sophistication requires a great deal of time, rehearsal, and collaboration that is again just not always possible in this day and age. It's not just prog, look at the dearth of cool jazz fusion, or even elaborate pop. You'll not soon see again the like of Sgt. Pepper in this market. That having been said, you should be even more impressed by the job that has been done here. Hackett did well to bring King into this project, and King has done a masterful job.
The songs....
A Life Within A Day - Epic prog/pop. There are those who say mentioning Zeppelin here is inappropriate, but that would be like not acknowledging the 800 pound gorilla in the corner. Of course the chugging, mid-tempo, Eastern riffing evokes Kashmir. However, there is also the fabulous intro that is pastoral and elegant. Then there is the solo section that takes off on an incredible path, leaving behind anything reminiscent of LZ's blues rock - Hackett lets loose with some heavily effected, dissonant squalling that somehow remains wonderfully melodic, as Squire underscores his soloing with some characteristically furious busyness. As these two instrumental giants joust, Roger King is fast in the thick of it, and the entire section becomes a fantastic journey that finds the listener gripping his chair, and holding his breath. Alas, they pull out of it having avoided disaster and then it's back into the now familiar riff, and vocals that by now have you singing along. Amazing as the rifled riffing is here, it is the song you walk away singing.
Tall Ships - Enters with Hackett gently playing some acoustic guitar that ends with a brief flamenco flourish after which Squire brings some fabulously funky bass work into the mix. This swings and dances a bit much for prog, as drummer Jeremy Stacey provides some Purdy-esque fatback beats and Hackett joins in with rhythmic stabs that would make Nile Rodgers grin. The melody comes in and it's a cool combination as East meets West - imagine a Crosby, Stills, and Nash album with some vindaloo on the side, and you're about there. A great chorus, and another brilliant Hackett solo. The harmonies are tight and intoxicating, and if there was still real radio, this would be a big summer smash.
Divided Self - A great dose of Brit pop that's wise lyric may be lost in the happy sonic landslide that sees both Steve and Chris strapping on Rickenbackers to perfect effect - Hackett both chimes and plays great fills (exactly in the style of the great tradition) as Squire reminds us that XTC's Colin Moulding may have listened to a few Yes albums on his way to greatness. It's a joy to listen to Squire playing marvelously busy, melodic, and effective bass under Hackett's solo. Two absolute masters of their craft - you can almost hear them listening to one another and reacting in the instrumental sections. If there's not enough playing on this record, you're really not listening very closely.
Aliens - A Squire tune that sees Hackett, King, and Stacey providing some gentle backing that keeps things moving while the bassist weaves his tale of extraterrestrial possibilities.
Sea Of Smiles - This song is going to set the bar awfully high for this summer's later entry in the prog/pop sweepstakes when John Wetton brings out this year's new model of Asia. If this had been released in 1980 it would have seen Squackett jetting to gigs with their name etched upon the back of a big bird's ass. This is a great piece of songwriting, and it's sweetened by loads of cool chops, great choral vocals, and another stunning Hackett solo. King's keyboards are outstanding on this cut - one minute he's playing rapid arpeggios, then he's back to plucky atmospherics, and soothing sheens of synth-work.
The Summer Backwards - More folkish, pastoral harmonies, and some gorgeous melodies abound that again seems to having Squackett thanking Andy Partridge for thanking them. This would fit lovely on XTC's Skylarking, one of the truly classic summer pop records. This one is Hackett's, and it is much lighter in tone and mood than much of his recent solo output.
Stormchaser - A bit of Squackett metal. Very reminiscent of Hackett's solo rock, and it makes me wonder how Hackett has avoided greater acclaim. You can literally hear the band being formed on this cut. It's an early arrival and you can sense that this was the jumping off point. Squire's bass is belligerent and rude - it's clearly Hackett's riff, but the bass man is making his presence well felt. This will be a barnburner when these fellows hit the boards.
Can't Stop The Sun - I get the sense that Chris Squire has finally got his well-deserved obsession with The Beatles out of his system a bit with Squackett. The marriage of melody, harmony, and a bass driven engine is beautifully executed, and we have another tale of the philosophies of love that is as pleasant in the light of day, as it is at midnight. That's a fascinating thing about this album - I've noticed that it delivers a wealth of sunshine and sunny weather, but also has a nice undercurrent that makes it quite good after midnight.
Perfect Love Song - The album's second absolute classic, and the perfect second side for the double sided single, next to Sea Of Smiles. This is all about the ear candy - it's gorgeous, well conceived, and executed with stunning precision. If you have qualms with this, I only ask - do you have a better piece of prog/pop up your sleeve? Great writing, much more than proficient playing, wonderfully soothing vocals, and a flash guitar solo. You kidding? This is great stuff. In the words of Steve Hackett, "A Perfect Love Song celebrates music
and love. Just when you think that life is cast in slabs of grey stone,
love kicks in and transforms everything. The song has an ascending
chord sequence and upbeat lyrics, rounding off one of the most rewarding
projects I've been involved with."
So, I'll end where I started with a simple question.
What shitty band are you in? Really, if you are amongst this record's critics, I'd love to hear what you have better to offer. In the meantime, lighten up and enjoy a cool, cool piece of music.
If this was a record by a bunch of unknowns, I suspect it would be lauded widely. If it had been released in 1972 as a side project between Yes and Genesis albums, it would have been acclaimed as the great success that it is.
Squackett is a great record. It does exactly what Squire and Hackett set out to do - record an album of songs that well represents their careers and talents. I congratulate and thank them, as I am personally enjoying it tremendously. It hasn't left my presence since it arrived, and it will most likely be a major part of the soundtrack to my summer. With that, I am well pleased.
My thanks to Steve Hackett, Jo Hackett, and Esoteric Antenna/Cherry Red Records.
Garbage has a new album, Not Your Kind Of People, and to these ears it sounds pretty fucking fabulous. I have to admit, I haven't listened to Garbage much in the past - let's just say I was busy when they were in their heyday and I'm just catching up and on.
If you're wondering about this review's title, here's the deal. While I haven't been terribly intimate with Manson, Vig, and Company in the past, I do have a bit of indie cred. I spent a great part of the last ten years living in the apartment below maybe the greatest American songwriter of the last twenty-five years, my old friend Robert Pollard, he of indie rock legends Guided By Voices. I've known Bob since I was ten years old, played with him in several bands, made a record or two with him, and served as musical director in his first post GBV project, The Moping Swans. I live in a town that drips indie, and while I am a bit more high tech, I get it. Pollard always bristled at those too lazy, untalented, and afraid to stick their necks out creatively, and once, upon being fed up with the non-doers unwillingness to do anything except bitch about what he was doing, he had some T-shirts printed up that said simply: Guided By Voices - "What Shitty Band Are You In?"
In tribute to my old pal, and everyone else over 40 and still having the balls and bluster to put out their art (such as Garbage), I ask those who sit back and criticize:
So - What shitty band are you in? If you're in no band at all, if you don't do anything towards making rock a better place, then perhaps you should take the advice that Barry Bonds couldn't. Maybe you should just shut the fuck up.
I first heard some material off the new record, and thought that it sounded just great. The songs sounded well written, the band is as tight as can be, the vocals great, and the production is superb. First thing I did was to read a few recent reviews. Most were pretty positive, but there was a good deal of print that chided the band for either not sounding up to their past, or trapped in and by said past. It was here that I feel I had an advantage. I could listen with fairly fresh ears - I was not jaded by their history, or even too familiar with their past. What I found, I liked, and liked a lot.
Automatic System Habit opens the record with an intro that made me think that if Cream's White Room had been written in this century it may have sounded a bit like this, then the band slams into a very modern rage against dishonesty. Shirley Manson's vocals are just great - she's obviously not lost a note in the seven years since the band's last record, 2005's Bleed Like Me. The guitars rage, fairly jumping out of the mix in your face, the drums pound with exuberance and precision, and there is enough electronica to keep things from ever being pedestrian. This is the sound of righteous indignation, of pissed offedness, and I like it. It rocks.
The next track, Big Bright World, delivers a huge dose of what I thought rock of the '90s promised, but never really delivered with regularity. None of the out of tune, out of time, unironed, unshaved mess of shit that I heard way too often throughout what I have come to call rock's lost decade. This sounds like a natural progression of where electronic pop should have headed after Bowie went to Berlin, and The Cure made androgyny so appealing. It's melodic, it's driving, and there's no shortage of delicious ear candy. Two tracks in, and I have no idea what any critic could find to bitch about.
If you can hear Blood For Poppies and not want to be whipping out this crazy cool guitar riff and dancing beside Manson as she delivers this tale, you're sure less ambitious than I. Any fan of rock should just be thrilled that they have something this good to listen to in this time of the Kali Yuga.
Not Your Kind Of People has instant classic written all over it. Manson delivers a tour de force, laying out the band's current manifesto, and displaying a knack for melody and phrasing that changes wonderfully in each of the song's luxurious sections. I listen to this and marvel at how hipster music journalists can harp about overproduction, or to call this pedestrian. I'm guessing these overpaid fucknuts have a negativity quotient they must hit, and since the band are recording and distributing on their own dime, these idiots' overseers don't have to worry about alienating advertisers or otherwise biting the hands that feed. This is an extremely satisfying listen. I love what the UK's The Guardian said about this track, "A beautiful, otherworldly cross between a John Berry Bond theme and a David Bowie outsider anthem."
This record is going to sound great onstage. It's relentless in its tones, textures, and melodies. Garbage sound hungry, angry, and pent up - never a bad thing in rock and roll.
Shirley Manson writes some fairly dark lyrics, and often seems to revel in this darkness, but through it all I can generally see a lot of light. Garbage come off as maybe the ultimate insider's outsiders. Over-talented in a time when talent is scorned, ambitious when all seem s hopeless, and above all not about to bow down to the lies, the disillusions, and the assholes who aren't even in a shitty band - let alone a brilliant band.
This record is a bit outside of my normal world, and I'm damned glad it came to visit. It made me smile, it makes me dance, and inspires me to pick up my guitar, call my old friend Bob, and see if he's ready to make another shitty little record. I didn't spend much time on the musicians' individual contributions, but they are all uniformly brilliant and inspired, and for that, I salute them.
If you dig rock - dig this. Smashing, bashing guitars and drums, hummable melodies, and loads of interesting soundscapery. Fuck the critics - they'll never love you for long.
I'm going to wrap this up with a statement the band recently released that says more than I can about where they are at - I'll end by asking one simple question:
What Shitty Band Are You In?
Garbage's statement:
"'Okay so honestly….let’s not retread the history that precedes this
record. It’s all on the Internet for anyone to have at it. If you have
any interest at all….you can Google anything you need to know about us
in five minutes flat. Just please ignore the stuff about me dropping a
poo in an ex boyfriends cornflakes and we’re all good.
Suffice to say we have been gone for seven years. We now are
experiencing what is commonly known as the seven year itch, except
instead of wanting to leave each other, we want to return to one
another. We have made, arguably, the best record of our career. You may
hate it. In which case you have no need to read any further.
For those of you who have a further curiosity let me say this: We
quit in the middle of our last tour and went home because we were sick
and tired of our record company wanting us to make money whatever the
cost to our morals or our bodies. We quit and went home because we
couldn’t stand another backstage hang with anyone from the
aforementioned record company. They quite literally were making us sick.
We quit and went home and built ourselves a life outside of Garbage
and outside of music and outside of the rest of the world. Then we got
bored of doing that and pretty much began to obsess about making music
again. We got together about a year ago now in a small studio in Atwater
Village, Los Angeles. There we recorded all of the songs on this new
record we are calling “Not Your Kind Of People”.
We wrote, recorded and mixed it ourselves, old school style.
We are self-releasing it on our own record label STUNVOLUME, via Liberator Music in Australia, new school style.
The title of this record is kind of our mission statement. For too
long we almost felt like apologizing for the fact that we didn’t fit in
musically with any kind of scene. We didn’t fit in with the electronic
scene even though we used electronica. We didn’t fit in with the hipster
scene even though we were pretty popular. (Probably because we got too
popular. We sold 13 million records over the course of our career.) And
we didn’t fit in with the alt rock scene either.
We just didn’t fit in. We never have.
Now we accept this fact and are happy about our outsider status. We
realize that we don’t sound like anyone else and that is a pretty hard
thing to achieve in this current climate where we all have access to an
infinite sea of musical possibilities. To have hold on a unique sound is
a currency of which we are proud.
If you have further interest in us or the making of this record,
please feel free to schedule an interview with our press office. We will
be happy to accommodate your curiosity. Otherwise I think we are done
here. Don’t you?
If you plan on driving up the Pacific Coast Highway with Sonny Landreth's Elemental Journey in the CD player, and I highly recommend that you do, please buckle up and watch your speed. You may just find yourself violating state code, if not lifting off completely. This is Landreth's first all instrumental album, but more importantly, it is the album that sees the six-string slide wizard come into his own as a serious composer, and one that has Sonny speaking more clearly with music than he ever has with words.
Regardless of where you hear the new Sonny Landreth record, you are going to be incredibly pleased, and maybe a little surprised. In the past, the bayou bred musician has generally stuck close to his roots, albeit a lively stew of roots which encapsulate Cajun music, zydeco, blues, and sophisticated funk. While these elements all make appearances on Elemental Journey, be prepared for an album that is closer perhaps to a blend of classic rock melody and progressive modern composition. It is as if Landreth has taken an oral oath of silence, and in exchange has been granted the ability to produce what his music has always suggested but never quite delivered. Please, do not read this as a criticism of the guitarists' earlier work - if anything, his discography has always been just ahead of the curve, maybe a bit too sophisticated for a broader audience. No, what I am attempting to say is that with this album, Landreth has moved forward exponentially, and has delivered a masterpiece that not only transcends his past six-string wizardry in terms of sheer technical and musical prowess, but one that will be as easily embraced by the casual listener as it will be intriguing to the readers of the guitar monthlies.
Elemental Journey will take you places you are not prepared to go, but that's not to say that you will not be thrilled by the trip. I have always found Landreth to be an engaging, emotional vocalist, and a better than average lyricist, but I honestly don't miss the presence of vocals here. Instead of following the paths he has led us down lyrically in the past, we are now free to determine not just what the title may indicate, but also what the melodies and changes may mean. The music is incredibly cinematic and suggestive. Landreth has perhaps become the Renoir, or perhaps, the Rachmaninoff of the blues. He's creating sceneries and evoking emotions with his elaborate soundscapes throughout.
Joe Satriani appears on the opening track, Gaia Tribe, and I was immediately concerned that such a grand marquee name would be on display right out of the gate, not to mention that Satriani and Landreth's worlds have never seemed to come close to the same orbit in the past. It turns out that my concerns were completely unjustified.
Gaia Tribe comes out sounding like it is gliding across Mother Earth herself with a driving rhythm that suggests memories of the best of Mark Knopfler's days in Dire Straits. Landreth sounds a little sleeker, a little more muscular than he has on records past, more confident and self assured. My new age side wants to wonder if his kundalini coils have not awakened and connected the guitarist to his higher self. It is as if something in the past was inhibiting his full bloom of artistry and now the veil has been lifted. Landreth steps on the gas as the solo section begins, and his tone is brawny, his command astounding. His slide figures are fearless (even more so than in the past), and his single string lead work is sizzling. It's curious that when Satriani enters the picture, he dovetails almost perfectly with Landreth's preceding section - something I had not expected. I understand that Satriani threw down his solo in a rapid fashion, but it works beautifully. The Chickenfoot fire is on display, yet Joe's melodic sensibilities somehow always manage to shine through, and even his wild whammy bar antics, and two hand tapping do not collide with Landreth and his band's mission. Bassist Dave Ransom has been with Landreth for decades, and his playing is a huge part of this record. Unpredictable, melodic, and driving, Ranson provides the perfect basis for Landreth's flights of fancy. Maybe the most amazing part of Gaia Tribe is the realization that Sonny Landreth has exploded into a realm in which even Joe Satriani's fire cannot outshine the Louisiana wunderkind.
"When I first heard Joe's solo," Sonny recalls, "I went, 'This is incredible! I love it, but it just comes out of nowhere - how am I going to make it fit?' After talking to Joe, I realized this was a great opportunity to raise the bar creatively. That's when I decided to double the surprise factor and have the strings make their first appearance for the album in the middle of his solo. The next thing I know, a song that started of as a simple surf thing had become this wild ride of an epic piece, and one of my favorite productions."
And the strings.... Before we get any further, I must mention that throughout the record, Landreth has done a fantastic job of incorporating a string section across much of the album, built upon the inspiration of performing the Bach piece, Cantata 140, with the Acadiana Symphony Orchestra under the direction of world renowned conductor Mariusz Smolij. In an interview with Mike Ragogna for the HuffPost, Landreth had this to say:
"That exposure is something I've never incorporated like I have this time. Once I did that performance for them, I knew it would be a part of the next album. That sealed the deal for me to make an instrumental album. Once I started working on the string arrangements with my friend Sam Broussard, who did a brilliant job, that just took it to another level!"
Landreth, Broussard, and Smolij's collaboration is outrageously effective - not the clumsy type of orchestrating that occurs so often when a rocker attempts to use orchestral instrumentation, but rather as an integral part of the compositions that provide some stunning plot twists and turns, as well as providing a tremendously emotional underpinning that often suggests a chorale. When I hear the strings kick in, I remember thinking, "Where did those come from?," followed immediately by, "Wow, how very cool!" There are a great many structure and chord changes on nearly every song, and this group has managed to make them work at every turn.
For You and Forever is the album's second track and a wonderful example of both the liberal use of strings, and the smooth sophistication of Landreth's compositions and arrangements. A sultry, slinky piece that ably displays his method of establishing a melody, then surprising the listener with the aforementioned twists and turns which are instilled without leaving behind a tune's heart and soul. Here, the string arrangement cascades from accompaniment that recalls George Martin's Beatles charts to almost Middle Eastern modalities. Their gentle beauty and Landreth's syncopated funk swap roles in a way one wouldn't think would work, but they compliment one another gloriously. Drummer Doug Belote's playing is mesmerizing - his creativity and technical mastery are a driving force as he manages to keep the guitarist and the strings from colliding or clashing. Magnificent.
It's essential to mention that Landreth, who undoubtedly has made the album of a lifetime, is assisted by an amazing set of collaborators. He's worked with bassist Ranson, and keyboardist Steve Conn for many years, albums, and tours, and without them this accomplishment would simply not be possible. I compare this album to that of another guitar star who has a record coming out this week, and the differences are marked. This other guitarist works with a largely rotating cast in the studio, and the absence of coherency and collaboration are immediately apparent. Even utilizing some of the finest talent one can combine in a recording studio, there is not the depth of experience that comes from working together night after night for many years, and the music reflects that. Landreth's record is a constant wonder, the truly beautiful work of a solid team.
Wonderide is just that. As Landreth takes off on a familiar zydeco type trip back home, he defies his past and introduces some fabulous fusion-y escapades that would not sound out of place on a Steve Morse record. Then, out of nowhere, a moody and Germanic sheet of orchestration arrives on the scene, underpinned by some great arpeggios by the guitarist. This genre hopping would and should not work were it not for Landreth's amazing compositional chops, which he has always hinted at, but never dealt so explosively. To call this music ambitious is a huge understatement. This is unlike anything he has done to this point, but read this not as a criticism - it is a brave step in a new direction of a musician's lifelong journey.
From Landreth on his website. "On ‘Wonderide,’ you can hear some of Clifton Chenier’s Creole
influences and then it morphs into a classical motif with the strings
playing more complex changes,” Sonny points out. “When I started
experimenting with it, I realized that the tempo for a good zydeco
groove could easily transition into the fingerpicking style of phrasing
found in classical guitar music. Then it was a matter of adding the
strings to give it more depth with tension and release, expanding the
overall sound.”
Eric Johnson is another guitarist whose presence could dim the light being shined on most guitarists, but he has worked with Sonny Landreth over the years in a great many settings, and scenarios, and his contribution on Passionola is the perfect example of a duet, and not a duel. Johnson may be the only player I can think of who is as meticulous in both his tone and his note selection as is Mr. Landreth. Their dialogue here is full of exciting moments that will have both longtime fans and new listeners astonished. This tune is a knucklebuster that goes down like a well made cappuccino - smooth, with a hint of creamy sweetness, and no bitter aftertaste.
Letting Go is a meditative piece that suggests that Landreth is speaking loudly through his oral oath of silence. His playing becomes more expansive and expressive as the tune progresses, throwing wave after wave of shimmering slides and delay soaked arpeggiated forays that manage to speak volumes of pure emotion.
“One of the things I’ve always loved about a good instrumental song is
that it can be more impressionistic and abstract,” Landreth notes.
“Though melody is always important, it’s even more significant with an
instrumental. So what I wanted to achieve was something more thematic
with lots of melodies and with a chordal chemistry that was harmonically
rich. That’s when I got the idea to treat the arrangements with more
layering and to have the melodies interweave like conversations. I also
wanted it to be more diverse, to not adhere to any categories. I wanted
to leave it wide open to possibility.”
Elemental Journey is truly world music - maybe Universal music. The title track is a fusionesque discourse that brings back fond memories of those halcyon days when a great jazzy rock band could easily fill a large auditorium. The band is a bedrock of solid foundation, with organist Steve Conn layering on lovely slabs of Hammond seasoning that allows Landreth to dance magically, dare I say erotically over the top. This is a seriously sensual and near mystic song that changes tempos and structures so smoothly that you find yourself in the movie, an actor in the play. The interplay between the musicians is a thing of wonder as Landreth leads them effortlessly around the globe.
One of the beautiful things about Landreth's work is how melodic his compositions are, and yet at the same time they are so completely unfamiliar to the ear of even the most experienced listener. His guitar slides in, around, above, and beyond the string section on Brave New Girl, often sounding more like a sleek saxophone than the Southern slide guitar legacy of the Deep South. The achingly beautiful and soaring crescendos of slide guitar on this cut had me repeatedly rewinding and wondering not just how he dreamed up such glory, but also just how he managed to execute these wonderfully adventurous ideas.
Robert Greenidge? Not exactly a household name, but the man is a superstar. He's long been a member of Jimmy Buffet's band, he has also graced records by Taj Mahal, JJ Cale, Earth, Wind, and Fire, Ringo Starr, and John Lennon.
Sonny Landreth says, "Robert Greenidge, my goodness. Here's the thing about him -- he's the
master steel drummer. You've heard him on tons of records. The first
time I ever heard steel drums, it was him on a Taj Mahal album. I didn't
even know what steel drums were, I had never heard them. This was a long
time ago. I thought, 'My god, what a masterful sound!'"
Greenidge's Trinidadian pan drums provide a marvelous Caribbean travelogue on Forgotten Story - but before his arrival, Landreth and band have already laid out a cinematic backdrop that suggests that one can get from the bayous of Louisiana to Jamaica via water and wind. They never seem to touch ground until Sonny kicks in the overdrive and drummer Mike Burch lays down a steady four on the floor that rides out the tune. They make it all sound so easy, but the virtuosity is amazing when you listen for it.
Reckless Beauty is probably the most familiar sounding track on the record for Landreth fans, although the man is still playing as if he may have been abducted by a fleet of extraterrestrial aliens from the planet Dick Dale.
What may be most impressive about Elemental Journey is the sheer breadth of Landreth's musical vocabulary. He's long been known for his astounding technical wizardry on the guitar, but with this album he mightily transcends his past achievements. His compositional skills seem to have blossomed considerably in the face of facing the task of an all instrumental outing.
Opening Sky rounds out the program with a Beckian nod of the hat to mystic melodicism. He gently puts to bed one of the most impressive instrumental records I have heard in a great many years. Landreth enters the realm of superstardom with this album. It will find its way onto many top 10 lists, and everyone who contributed to this fantastic slab of sound is deserving of great congratulations.
First things first. I had to ask Mick Abrahams about his health before we could speak about his brilliant new signature model Vintage guitar. His answer gave both an answer to my question, and an indication that the man's well known sense of good humor are still finely intact.
"Well," Mick said, "as you may know, about two years ago I had two heart attacks, and a stroke, all at the same time. I guess it was cheaper to have them all at once!
"Anyway, I can walk, talk, drive a bit, and play a few chords and licks now, so I'll be having a go in the not to distant future.
"Don't expect the old Mick Abrahams, though, as I can't do that thing anymore! But, I will still be making a nuisance of myself, I hope!"
That is some great news to hear. There is always a shortage of great guitarists who aren't afraid of being a bit of a nuisance, and the world is a better place with Mr. Abrahams in it. Now, let's get on with the review!
Vintage is the name of a guitar company. It is a brand name that is commanded by revolutionary guitar parts designer and builder Trev Wilkinson. After several decades of building some of the most innovative and well respected hardware in the industry (as well as some incredible instruments), Wilkinson decided to try his hand at manufacturing. His Fret-King Green Label and Stvdio lines are the flagship guitars of his empire, being designed and handcrafted in Great Britain. However, the need for lower priced, usable instruments beckoned and Wilkinson came up with the crafty idea of using his stellar hardware on good quality guitars built in Asia, and a partnership with Vintage was born.
I first met Trev Wilkinson close to thirty years ago. He was selling incredibly high quality parts of his own design, and of notable significance were his sleek knife edged vibratos that allowed guitarists to enter the world of Floyd Rose/Kahler whammy histrionics without carving up their instruments. I remembering buying one of his first tremolos and having it installed on a parts guitar that I had built by Sammy Sanchez at Nadine's Music in Santa Monica. It was a remarkable instrument with stellar hardware. Wilkinson's design work was unique and his quality always superb, so when I came across the Vintage imprint, I was instantly intrigued.
The first guitar that I noticed by Vintage was their V100MRPGM Icon. Users were saying that they could tell scant difference between the Vintage models and much more expensive guitars, so I had to find out for myself.
Now, I would be the last person on Earth to compare an imported, relatively inexpensive instrument to a revered vintage guitar. I have played, held and sold several '59s in my day, and they have no peers. Even the best reissues coming out of the best factories fall significantly beneath the magic contained within the real deal.
The Vintage VS6MRMA
What I can say is that Vintage guitars are a remarkable value for the money, and they are wonderful instruments in their own right. Whether you're looking for a reliced axe, a snazzy single cutaway, or a great workingman's double cutaway, you should absolutely consider seeking out a Vintage.
Recently, I have been considering adding some stronger single coil pickups to my arsenal. I've been a Les Paul guy for a great many years, and always also kept a Strat, or two laying around. I've been toying with an idea for a certain sound in the back of my mind for some time, and it lived somewhere between the world of full output humbuckers, and the wiry pleasure of single coil pickups. I wanted something with more girth, but I also wanted to retain the airiness of single coils. I kept coming back top a few hallmark tones from my youth - the incredible tones of Leslie West from the days of Mississippi Queen and Mountain, the corpulent tones captured by Mick Ralphs during his tenure with Mott The Hoople, and most of all the perfect sound produced by Pete Townshend between the years of 1968 to 1970. Townshend's tone on The Who's Live At Leeds album was to my ears the epitome of chimey, acoustic sounding clean sounds, and Herculean distorted fury.
Mick Abrahams Vintage Icon Series
While making the rounds of the local music stores, I accidentally stumbled upon a few samples of Vintage's product line - an unexpected delight. I had previously tried to find a dealer location close by, but had been thwarted in my attempts, which were admittedly casual, though JHS's (the line's distributor) dealer locator was of no use. It was only by some divine province that I almost knocked a beautiful VS6MRMA off of its stand. You may ask, "What the Hell is a VS6MRMA?"
In the somewhat clumsy Vintage nomenclature, that is the Mick Abrahams Signature Model. Abrahams, of course, was the original guitarist for legendary British rockers Jethro Tull, and also led his own renowned outfit, Blodwyn Pig, for a great many years, and had long been associated with a famous '63 double cut.
Mick Abrahams states, "Trevor thought I should be playing one of his Vintage VS6 guitars - it was all his idea! Trev did most of the research, and I just made the odd recommendation here and there."
Blodwyn Pig and Mick Abraham
The Abrahams signature model's body is a thin bodied double cutaway, and it's reliced in an attractive distressed cherry red, and the hardward is well aged. Frankly, the relicing on the body is pretty cool, but again, no one would really think it was an old instrument. The hardware is exceptional, no surprise as this is where Wilkinson always shines. The tuners are very reminiscent of vintage style machine heads, and the tailpiece, while being a wrapover, has compensated saddles which aids the player in tuning and intonation.
"I was stunned at just how good it felt and played," Abrahams stated when I asked about his first impressions. "Yes, me and Trev go way back, but I must admit, I never thought people all over the world would be playing a guitar with my name on it!"
The guitar's neck is a chunky, rosewood boarded number - not too fat, but enough roundness to enhance the axe's resonance. Evidently, this neck was based on a classic axe that once belonged to Wilkinson, and while I'd prefer a bit more girth, it has a quite pleasant feel. The body is a two piece, but you'd expect that in this guitar's price range, and the distressed cherry red finish is thin enough to not dampen the VS6's vibe in the least bit. The guitar sounds very, bright and snappy acoustically, and when you plug it in it really sings. I'm guessing that the obviously inexpensive toggle switch will eventually become an issue, so when I get the nut replaced (to accommodate higher string guages) I'll most likely have that switched out as well.
Wilkinson W90 Pickups
The true heart of this instrument are the Wilkinson W90 pickups, these are the first pickups that Wilkinson has designed specifically for one instrument in the Vintage lineup, and they are superb. They have spank aplenty, and a seriously throaty mid-ranged howl. When cranking my Hayes Amplification BF-5e3 amp up, the guitar sings in the fashion of Leslie West's sumptuous leads, and the solo from Theme From an Imaginary Western sounds magnificent. Chords are thick and churning, but single string clarity is still retained. The Hayes Amp is best described by listening to any of Neil Young's electric work over the last 40 years - it is a design based on the classic Fender Tweed 5e3 circuit, but with massive Mercury Magnetics transformers, and seriously beefed up components. You get the pickup's full glory when you get the volume on the guitar above about 8, but when you dial them down they clean up pleasantly. I can coax near Telecaster tones (not quite as bright) out of the Abraham, and also when played through a cleaner rig with more headroom, a jazzy tone is no problem. There's some single coil hum, but no more or less than with any vintage style style pickups.
The Who and Pete's SG
The true test was when I decided to a/b the Abraham with Townshend's glorious Live At Leeds tones, and I was truly shocked at just how close the guitar came to matching this iconic sound. It may not have been quite as shimmery as the clean sounds Pete achieved, but I also was not playing through a full complement of EL34 tubes at full volume, either. One other adjustment that I was unwilling to attempt was to outfit the Abrahams with the .012-.056 gauge strings that Townshend used. I may do so soon, but it will require some work on the guitar's nut, and if the guitar has an Achilles heel, it may be the inexpensive nut. But, to say that a plastic nut may be the guitar's weakest point speaks volumes about the overall quality of the unfortunately named, VS6MRMA. C'mon guys, it's a Vintage Mick Abrahams Model for God's sake.
My Vintage
Did I mention the guitar's price? Of course I haven't - that would be, first of all, the wrong emphasis at the wrong time, and secondly, I would never want to run off a perspective purchaser by stating a price so low as to make almost impossible the assumption of quality actually found in this guitar. Online pricing tells me that most American retailers are selling these guitars for around $459. In London, street prices are about £319. I smile, having picked mine up for just $400 US.
When it's all said and done, I find the Vintage VS6MRMA Icon Mick Abrahams Signature Model to be an exceptional guitar for the price. It is certainly gig worthy, and a tremendously enjoyable guitar to play. Enough so that I will be checking out the Vintage line very closely when making future purchases and recommendations.
Finally, I had to ask, after reading various different tales over the years, exactly why Mick had left his position in Jethro Tull, just as they were becoming big news. His answer kind of sums up his no nonsense, straight ahead approach.
Mick Abrahams on leaving Jethro Tull, "Because I was fed up with all the nonsense, and I wanted to form a band like Blodwyn Pig!"
Turns out that Mick's views are much like his signature model guitar - not terribly fancy, but a simple, and most wonderful proposition. As I was doing some final revisions after receiving some feedback from the manufacturer on some technical issues, I received this great bit of news from Mick.
Mick sends this, "You'll be delighted to know (as I am!!), that I'll be playing four songs at the Tenero Music Festival in Switzerland, and I'll be using a MA signature model that the promoter has bought for my use especially!
"Cheers, Mick"
Bravo, Mick and bravo to Trev Wilkinson and Vintage guitars!
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