Tag: features

Ed. Note: Everyone associated with Vintage Guitar magazine is saddened to learn of the passing of B.B. King. In 1995, Mr. King sat for an interview with VG‘s Willie G. Moseley, and we offer it here as part of our remembrance of the King of the Blues.

Riley B. King was born on a cotton plantation in Indianola, Mississippi, on September 16, 1925. Following a childhood spent in poverty, he made his way to Memphis in 1946, where he forged a career in the music business, under the stage name of B.B. King (B.B. is short for “Blues Boy”), and he’s been playing, touring, and recording almost non-stop ever since; he’ll be 70 this year.

VG arranged an interview with King prior to a recent concert (he still performs about 250 times a year!), to inquire about facets of Mr. King’s fabled career. We were escorted into a dressing area, where a relaxed and eloquent Mr. King patiently answered our questions in a courteous and efficient manner. Some of his responses were somewhat surprising:

The story of your dash back into a burning nightclub in Twist, Arkansas, to rescue your guitar is well-known, but do you remember the make and model of that guitar?
I remember the make but not the model; it was a little black Gibson. You can see it in some old pictures that we’ve had made up; my name was put on it with a paint brush. It was an acoustic, believe it or not, with a DeArmond pickup on it to make it into an electric.

Let me ask about some of the other instruments that I’ve seen you playing in some older photographs. There’s that famous picture of you performing onstage in shorts; you’re playing a big three-pickup Gibson ES-5.
(laughs) That picture still haunts me! One of the reasons I liked that one was because my idol T-Bone Walker had one; he was so flashy with his. I liked it, but it just never seemed to “fit” me right. It was big; I had one that I gave to my father, and when he died I got it back. I still play it sometimes. When the guitar that became the “Lucille” model came out, that was the one for me; that did it.

Do you remember which pickups you used the most on the ES-5?
No; I don’t know much about the electronic parts of a guitar. If something went wrong with my guitar tomorrow, and I couldn’t find any-body to fix it, I’d be in big trouble! I like guitars where the neck feels right in my hands; that’s what’s important to me. Since ’49 I’ve played all kind of guitars, Epiphone, Fender, you name it.

There’s another historical photo of you playing a single-pickup Fender Esquire.
That was one of the first ones that came out.

When the Gibson came out with their thinline semi-hollow series, which model did you start out with?
The 335; it was like somebody knew what kind of guitar I’d been wanting. The 355 “Lucille”, with no f-holes, is what I play now.

Do you use the Vari-Tone on it all that much?
I never use it at all. I think of this guitar as sort of a big brother to the Les Paul; to me, the Les Paul guitar is one of the best guitars that’s ever been built, and the neck of the 355 is similar to the neck of the Les Paul. I like the larger, “butt” part of the 355 body, because it fits under my arm real well (pats right side of rib cage).

Did you make your first recording in l949?
It was the latter part of ’48; I made my first record for Bullet. The first four sides were “Take A Swing With Me”, “Miss Martha King”, “How Do You Feel When Your Baby Packs Up To Go”, and “I Got The Blues”.

What about the amplifiers you’ve used over the years? That photo of you in shorts with the ES-5 showed you playing through a Fender tweed amplifier.
Yes; the old Fender amplifiers were the best that were ever made, in my opinion. They had a good sound and they were durable; guys would throw them in the truck and they’d hold up. They had tubes, and they’d get real hot, but they just had a sound that is hard to put into words. The Fender Twin was great, but I have an old Lab Series amp that isn’t being made anymore. I fell in love with it, because its sound is right between the old Fender amps that we used to have and the Fender Twin. It’s what I’m using tonight.

You mentioned T-Bone Walker being an idol of yours; he was from Texas instead of Mississippi, and he played unique chords and did arrangements, instead of “three-chord-and-three-string” blues songs.
Well, he was just one of my idols. Lonnie Johnson was another; so was Django Rheinhardt; so was Charlie Christian. I also liked Chet Atkins; there was Blind Lemon Jefferson out of Texas.

Some people differentiate between what they call “Texas blues” and “Delta blues”.
(chuckles) Well, I don’t agree with that; I think it’s the person. There’s a lot of us from Mississippi, and we all don’t play alike. John Lee Hooker and I don’t play alike; Muddy Waters and I didn’t play alike. I knew about Robert Johnson, but I wasn’t crazy about Robert Johnson like a lot of people are; I knew he was great, but my “Johnson” was Lonnie; he’s the one I was crazy about.

I’ve always been wanting to play better; I was crazy about a guy named Johnny Moore, who had a group called the Three Blazers, which included Charles Brown. Johnny Moore was the brother of Oscar Moore, who was the guitar player for the Nat Cole Trio.

Oscar Moore was usually seen playing a big Gibson L-5, I think.
And Johnny Moore had one just like it! He taught his brother how to play.
There are many other guitar players I could talk about that never made a name for themselves, and I listened to a lot of them as well.

How did you get yourself into other performance venues other than what was known as the “chitlin circuit”?
I augmented my group; we started to be like a Big Band, kind of like Count Basie. I was still able to play places where we’d played before, but we got into some new places. For example, there was a club in Chicago called Mr. Kelly’s; they’d never had blues in there; it was always jazzed-up. When I augmented my group, they brought me in. That was the first time that club went from strictly Jazz to a different sound. Elvis came on the scene around ’54, and after that the British bands “re-imported the blues”, as I call it. Then I started playing places like the Fillmores.

Back then, you made a comment that Peter Green was a player who could make you “sweat”, so that’s at least one white British player who was playing what you considered to be “authentic” blues.
The thing is, I didn’t think about what color he was, and I don’t think about such now. So when I said that, I didn’t mean he should be thought of as a white player, but just as, excuse the word, a damn good player. He could really get me excited. He was a great player and a good friend. He hasn’t been playing any lately; I saw him about two or three years ago, and he was working as something like a pallbearer in a graveyard.

How many albums have you recorded?
Seventy-four.

A lot of guitar players are partial to live albums, and at your press conference earlier this evening, you alluded to the possibility of another one coming up. I’d like to ask about a couple of them; for example, your bio refers to the Live at the Apollo album as a “Big Band” album.
Yes; that was done with an eighteen-piece all-star orchestra; every guy on that stage was a star in his own right.

The guitar tone on the San Quentin live album seems to have a bit more of an “edge” to it. Any reason why?
(chuckles) No; it was just the way I was feeling, the type of amp I had, and the facilities. Like I said earlier, the technical stuff is something I don’t think about; it’s just whatever’s sounding good to me now. (laughs)
But there are a couple of sounds on albums that I made that stand out in my mind. I don’t really talk about it, but when I did “The Thrill Is Gone,” I thought I had a good sound. Then I did another tune called “Blues At Midnight,” the sound of that amp was exactly like I like. There’s been another song or two, but other than that it’s just a case of me feeling good and the amp sounding good. Those songs just stand out to me as having a sound I wish I could get more often.

You were interviewed by Billy Gibbons for Guitar Player magazine, and when I interviewed him for this publication, he cited Ry Cooder’s observations about the “musicness” of Memphis. Comment?

When I first got to Memphis in ’46, I heard sounds that I thought were heavenly; sounds I’d never heard before. The musicians weren’t putting on; they were just playing casually, like they were playing cards, and it sounded better than anything I’d ever heard. From time to time, you can still hear that. There are a lot of musicians that are in Memphis that have that sound that you wish you could have every day, but they don’t want to travel; they just hang around Memphis.

You’ve participated in some notable charity events, such as Live Aid and the first Farm Aid. There were a lot of different types of acts, but I thought the line in “How Blue Can You Get,” “I gave you seven children and now you wanna give ‘em back” was still the showstopper that it always seems to be.
(laughs) It is one of my favorites. A lot of people don’t know that tune was written by a famous music critic, Leonard Feather, for Louis Jordan, who used to do funny things like that. But I heard it and liked it so well I decided I’d record it; I think many of the best recordings that I’ve done through the years have been tunes that were written by somebody else, for somebody else, and I happened to hear it, but it seemed like the songwriter was asking me: “B., is this the way you want it?” (chuckles)

Another musician I once interviewed offered the opinion that “the blues always seems to come around and shake things up a bit whenever it’s needed.” (Mr. King laughs) It does seems like the interest in blues music has been somewhat “cyclical”, for lack of a better term.
I don’t quite agree with all of his comment, but part of it I do agree with; it does seem to shake up things from time to time. I think what happened is there have been times like when the British bands came over in the early Sixties, and they made the U.S. as a whole aware of blues, when the blues had been there all the time.

I’ve interviewed American players who acknowledged that the British bands made them aware of the blues; one of them told me that he was made aware of the original blues musicians, right here in his own back yard, so to speak.
Right; that’s exactly what we’re talking about. So when a lot of them stopped playing it, then a lot of Americans thought that the blues had gone away, but the rest of us that had been here all along were still playing it, and we never stopped. Sometimes they use the word “re-surgence” when they talk about the blues, and I have a bit of a problem with that, because today the blues is more popular than it’s ever been since I’ve been trying to play it. And a lot of it has to do with the young people who are playing it and supporting it.

You’re coming up on your Seventieth birthday; you’re not ever going to retire, are you?
I don’t see any reason to, as long as people still want to hear me. What else would I do? I was a disc jockey once; that’s the only other job I’d like. I was born on a plantation; worked on a plantation. It was hard work, but it prepared me for what I do today, and I don’t regret any of it.

There are so many young players that are great; they’ll keep the interest in the blues going. Stevie Ray Vaughan was one of the best blues players ever. Then there’s another young man named Robert Cray, and a young man out of Canada named Jeff Healy. (appreciative whistle) He’s mean! These players are superstars with the youth; in my case, I’m not a superstar, I’m just a guy that’s been out there for a long time; I’ve been doing this for forty-five years, so I might as well keep on.

With all due respect, most blues lovers would debate you con-cerning your statement that you’re not a superstar.
Well, thank you. (smiles)

Following our interview, King and his band put on a show that ran almost twice its scheduled length. He plans on staying active; his future plans include not only the aforementioned live album, but a CD-ROM as well, and a possible autobiography. He’s a busy man, but is that any surprise? That he is able to look back at decades of accomplish-ments yet still look ahead to future projects is admirable, particularly since many blues lovers consider King the pre-eminent purveyor of the musical genre that he himself loves so much.

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Vintage Guitar would like to thank Mr. Sherman Darby and New Era Promotions for their courtesy and help in arranging the interview with B.B. King.

(Further comments about the B.B. King interview and concert can be found in this month’s “Executive Rock” column.)

This article originally appeared in VG September 1995 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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To view our B.B. King playlist, Click Here.

Most people remember Bill Nelson as the front man/guitar hero in the English band Be Bop Deluxe. Since folding that outfit 35 years ago, he has led a fertile solo career, releasing dozens of solo albums ranging from guitar rock to pop electronica. His latest, Blip!, showcases his hot playing with lush pop.

Who were some of your key guitar influences?
My first was Duane Eddy. I heard “Because They’re Young” on the radio in the late ’50s and loved the sound of his guitar. I then got into the Shadows and the Ventures. In my early teens, I bought records by all kinds of instrumental groups, some obscure like the Spotnicks, the String-A-Longs, the Cougars, the Fireballs, and Johnny & the Hurricanes. I also discovered Chet Atkins and Les Paul. My English Lit teacher loaned me a Django Reinhardt album, which led me to Wes Montgomery, Jim Hall, and Joe Pass. Later, I was inspired by Clapton, Beck, and Hendrix.

Still, your solos use chord-tension notes normally found in jazz.
The jazzy element comes from being exposed to jazz and swing music as a kid. My father was a saxophonist and in the ’60s, I picked up on the contemporary jazz scene – not just guitar players, but Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, Gil Evans, Thelonious Monk, Sun Ra, and Ornette Coleman. I have no academic knowledge of music theory; I play by ear – I’m what my father used to disparagingly refer to as a “busker.”

What guitars did you use on Blip!?
The main guitars were a Gretsch White Falcon, a Fender Custom Shop ’59 Strat, my Campbell Nelsonic signature model, an Eastwood Wandre Tri-Lam, a Peerless Deep Blue Custom, and a Gibson Custom Shop Les Paul Black Beauty. I recently got a Hallmark Stradette and an Eastwood California Rebel I’ve been recording with. I do have a lust for unusual guitars. They can put an entirely different spin on things.

Do you record guitars direct?
Yes, without any mic’ing of amps or cabs. I mostly use a Line 6 Pod 2; for some reason, I prefer the sound of the early ones. I also have an old Zoom 2050 rack processor and a Digitech Valve FX rack processor I add to my rig for live performances. I also have a Line 6 Pod HD500 I use in the studio when I need a more-abrasive rock sound. In conjunction with the Pod 2, I’ve also recently been using a Line 6 M5 stompbox modeler that Reeves Gabrels gave me. Some of the filters and sequenced tremolo effects in the M5 are interesting. Reeves and I are recording an album together, too.

Do you still own the Gibson ES-345 and Yamaha SG2000 guitars from the Be Bop Deluxe era?
My ES-345 is still with me and I’d never sell it. My dad bought it for me in the early ’60s and it’s a wonderful guitar, but I rarely take it out of the house. The musical memories it contains are very special. I’ve kept the second of the two Yamaha SGs – the cherry sunburst one I played toward the end of Be Bop Deluxe was sold in the early ’90s, but I still have the dark green one I played in the ’80s. It’s a little road-worn and needs new knobs and a switch tip, but it still has a great action.

Blip! tracks like “Whirlwind Winters” and “Painting Your Sky” have some great guitar work.
I still get a thrill from kicking in the retro-rockets and going for the widescreen guitar solo. But I also love the more subtle, reflective, jazzier approach. The electric guitar is capable of so many beautiful moods and textures – I’m rather greedy and enjoy it all. I’ve always had broad tastes in music and tried to incorporate the sound and style of early electric guitar alongside a more-contemporary approach to the instrument. It’s an evolving process.

What are your recollections of Be Bop Deluxe? That music still sounds fresh.
Personally, I can be a little ambivalent about Be Bop Deluxe. Those few years in the ’70s represent a fraction of my career, but because of the era and the more-commercial nature of the music I recorded back then, the band has become the main signifier of my work. I’ve never stopped making music and never felt I’ve reached my goal, whatever that might be. I’m still looking to make an album which will satisfy me. For me, Be Bop Deluxe was just a starting point in an ongoing adventure. I have fond memories from that time but I don’t feel particularly defined by it. Nevertheless, I’m more inclined to look at the world through a vehicle’s front windshield rather than its rearview mirror. The future, I hope, will always be more magnetic than the past.

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

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The latest record from Marty Stuart, Ghost Train: The Studio B Sessions, is a tour de force of country music styles that celebrates the past while pushing firmly into the future. And that’s what renaissance man Stuart was aiming for…

“Well, traditional country music is what interests me the most,” he said. “Sometimes, I miss the weight in my checkbook from lack of airplay, but that’s all I miss. I’ve got enough years behind me to know the only thing that lasts is what you do from your heart. It’s kind of become a cultural mission, because for years I’ve tried to preserve and re-stage the photos and memorabilia. Then one day I woke up and the music was slipping away. I thought we needed to do our part to hang on to it, but write a new chapter. Not a retro thing – a new chapter. I think Ghost Train may have moved it in that direction.”

Recorded in RCA’s legendary Studio B, in Nashville, where plenty of country hits were recorded, Stuart says it was a different experience. “It’s owned and controlled by Belmont University. So we had students on one side of the glass watching us record while learning. Then, friends and neighbors on the other side. So it was kind of strange and wonderful to have all that going on in a time that’s usually private. It was alright because it all kind of became a part of the atmosphere.”

Keeping Stuart’s music fresh, both live and on record, is his band, the Fabulous Superlatives. Guitarist Kenny Vaughan (VG, Dec. ’06) is the perfect foil for Stuart. Harry Stinson on drums and Paul Martin on bass are as skilled at the kind of music Stuart is making as any musicians on the planet. “We’ve been together almost a decade now, which is almost 50 years in Hillbilly time. I’ve been in bands since I was nine years old and absolutely, this is the band of a lifetime. My legacy band, as I see it. It’s the first and only band I’ve ever had where I save every recording, every photograph, every document, because it’s going to be studied when it’s all done. It’s one of those divinely ordered bands. They’re not only master musicians, they’re master people.”

Fans of Stuart and the band can get a weekly fix by tuning into his RFD-TV show, which is an amazing display of musical talent seldom seen on any kind of television these days. In the space of 30 minutes, he squeezes in performances by the Superlatives, songs by guests who are often royalty in country music, a song from his wife, Connie Smith, and a musical interlude from Leroy Troy. In-between are heavy doses of Stuart’s humor and good-natured personality. The show is reminiscent of the program Porter Wagoner served up in the late ’60s and early ’70s.

The show is just one part of his mission to keep the public exposed to traditional country music, ensuring it sees and hears more than the pop/country that dominates the radio. He also has a program on XM/Sirius radio celebrating the same thing. And he’s a fine photographer who has compiled several decades of photos featuring country artists into a book, along with DVDs of the show and some music that can’t be purchased in stores.

The TV show also was the catalyst for the only change in equipment he’s made in many years. “My guitars have pretty much stayed the same, but with amps I’ve been all over the place. For the show, someone suggested Kenny and I go to a silverface Fender Princeton. I did, and I add a little boost on top, and that’s it. We use them on the show, and that’s all I used on the record. I’ve found the true tone of my guitar in that Princeton. It’s the way to go for what I’m up to. It rings like a bell and in the control room, it’s tight and bigger than the world. I’ll use it on gigs, too, unless the room is too big. Then I’ll go back to a couple of Fender Twins.”

Stuart is an amazing guitarist and mandolinist, playing with an ease that reflects his years at his craft. He doesn’t practice much, but says for inspiration he still goes back to the guys he’s always appreciated. “Luther Perkins still makes me smile. Ralph Mooney always makes me go away shaking my head wondering how he was doing what he was doing. I love the quirkiness of Roy Nichols. And I love the Mississippi man, Muddy Waters. He can do more damage with one note than most guys can do with an entire fretboard. I do love to watch young guys come along, but the old masters are still the ones.”

As for the future, Stuart says it happens as it happens, like Ghost Train, which actually took about six years to put together. “It all starts with a song, and this one began with “Hangman,” the song I wrote with John (Cash). I thought ‘This could be the start of something deep, but it’s gonna take time.’ I started living and writing songs, re-writing them, and one day there were that many that held together. I have book upon book, album titles, album concepts that came and went. But I entertained them all. One day it all found its mark and became Ghost Train.”

His current situation nicely suits a man involved in so much. “I’ve always thought Andy Warhol had the right idea where he had the whole factory going. At the beginning of the decade, I turned my office into the fun factory. It starts with the band and the music, and it has been amazing. Photographs, books, movie scores, saving buildings… it’s the most wonderful thing to be able to say the sky’s the limit. I move with my heart but it all works under one roof now, and that’s a wonderful thing.”

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

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John Entwistle
Ode to the Ox 1944-2002
By Ward Meeker

Pop music lovers – especially those with an ear tuned to gear and how it’s used – know that John Entwistle ranks as one of the most influential bassists in the history of rock and roll. Some would argue there is none higher.

Before Entwistle, the role of the bassist was nebulous; the average listener didn’t pay much mind to bass notes or their placement. But Entwistle changed that situation dramatically, developing not only a unique style and establishing the stereotype of the rock-solid, unmoving bassist, but also evolving a tapping multi-hand approach to bass playing.

A musically curious young man, John Alex Entwistle was born in Chiswick, London, in 1944, and as a schoolboy, learned to play piano and French Horn (which he would use throughout his time in the Who). Yet another member of his generation swept up in the skiffle revival of the 1950s, Entwistle was smart enough to see that guitar players in his hometown were a dime a dozen. But few of them were willing to take on the newfangled electric bass guitar, not only because the role was deemed secondary, but also because in England at the time, decent-quality basses were nearly impossible to come by.

Despite being just 14 years old, Entwistle quickly took on double duty as bass player and bass builder, not bothering to learn guitar first.

One day, as he strode down the street, homemade bass under his arm, he was approached by a neighborhood chap named Roger Daltrey, who invited him to join a band. Guitarist Pete Townshend joined soon thereafter, then drummer Keith Moon, and the band evolved from The Detours to The High Numbers and finally The Who, and they started recording in 1964.

From early on, The Who, being a single-guitar band, relied heavily on Entwistle to keep the music rolling. For many reasons (like keeping up with Townshend’s taste for 100-watt amp stacks) he tended to play extremely loud and complex parts to compensate for the absence of a rhythm guitar. The Who was unique in that way: Townshend’s guitar was often the base that Moon and Entwistle would “solo” over.

And amid the pandemonium that was a Who concert – Townshend’s windmilling and power-posing, Moon’s run-amock drumming style, and Daltrey’s frontman posturing – Entwistle developed a trademark standstill style that contrasted visually as he laid down complex fills and countermelodies that fit perfectly.

Entwistle also wrote many noteworthy Who songs. Where Townshend proved to be the cynic, the rebel, the conceptualist, Entwistle’s bizarre, often dark sense of humor lent further contrast. Two cases in point are “Boris the Spider,” from the band’s second album (A Quick One) and “My Wife,” from Who’s Next.

From 1971 to 1973, Entwistle, discouraged by certain bandmates’ falling victim to the trappings of rock stardom, released three solo albums and toured with his band, Ox. Though his solo career never garnered much interest in the U.S., it helped him focus on music despite the fact that the Who was on shakey ground; Townshend had suffered a nervous breakdown early in the decade, Daltrey pursued acting and a solo career, and Moon moved into the party fast lane that would claim his life in 1978.

Despite a uniform feeling that the band wouldn’t really exist after’s Moon’s passing, the Who toured in support of Who Are You, which was released just a few months before the drummer’s death. The wind, however, was knocked out of the band’s sails early in the tour, when 11 fans were trampled to death before a concert in Cincinnati in December, 1979.

The Who kicked out two albums in the early ’80s (1981’s Face Dances and 1982’s It’s Hard). Entwistle, meanwhile, recorded another solo album, Too Late The Hero, which reached number 71 on the U.S. album charts.

The band was to have retired following a farewell tour in 1982, but demand for a reunion led to another tour in ’89.

In the mid ’90s, Entwistle assembled the John Entwistle Band, with producer Steve Luongo on drums, guitarist Godfrey Townsend, and keyboardist Gordon Cotton.

In late June ’02, The Who had regrouped and was set to begin a tour of North America, when Entwistle died on June 27.

By all accounts, Entwistle’s personality was that of one of the most grounded, humble rock superstars ever. As a player, he respected peers like Paul McCartney and Jack Bruce (though he wouldn’t necessarily say he liked their tone), though his own style shared little with either of them. But like them, it defined itself.

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Goodbye, John Alec Entwistle
We Hardly Knew Ya
By Steve Patt and Rick Pascual

“Kid, can ya lend me a hand here?” emanated from a hairy individual in a British accent so thick I could barely understand it’s meaning.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed a guitar case from the gent and followed him down the long hallway. This was my first encounter with John “The Ox” Entwistle, in grungy downtown Baltimore, and I got used to helping him over the years.

In the old days, access to bands was a lot easier, and being a 16-year-old Who fan, I had hoped to meet the group by scoping out their hotel. I got more than I bargained for, because the group’s head roadie, a hobbit-like sandy-haired Bob Pridden, pressed me into service, and I was a fixture for the tour.

The Who, all included, were fun to be around, and got along like family. But John was the avuncular older brother to me, giving me tips on wine, women, and (of course) song – though not necessarily in that order. I graduated from the Who to Procol Harum, and eventually left roadying to be a musician with the Chambers Brothers, but never forgot the kindness of Peter, Keith, Roger, and John… who urged me to “forget about the music life, kid – it’s all flash. Go back to school!” Which, of course, I ignored at the time.

John was a scholar – very serious about his music – but had an easy perspective on the Who and its role in the world of popular music.

The group took the stage June 29 in Los Angeles, without its linchpin, John Entwistle. “John would have wanted us to go on,” Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey, the remaining original bandmates issued in a statement after John’s untimely death at 57, and I couldn’t agree more. The extended family of Peter, Roger, and crew will be playing their hearts out in honor of John Alec Entwistle and his legacy, and all of us music lovers will be there in spirit. – Steve Patt

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As you entered the original Manny’s Music on 48th Street in New York City, you walked straight ahead to the stairs that led you down to the main selling floor. That’s where the guitars were, behind sliding locked glass doors above your head. Amplifiers of all the most soughtafter brands formed a small island in the center. The yellow Danelectro that everyone used to test amps was sitting in its usual spot on top of a Standel (or maybe Fender) amp.

I bought my first Precision Bass at Manny’s on August 7, 1968. I still play it to this day. John Entwistle and Pete Townshend entered the store right behind me and my brother, Frankee Lee.

The two guitar players of the Who walked passed us and we acted as cool as we could, but I was delirious. I really was a fan, and that summer I was in love with The Who Sell Out LP.

Entwistle also came to buy a Precision Bass. Henry, Manny’s sales guy, called upstairs to stock and told them to bring down two Fender Precision Basses in sunburst. Henry turned to me and asked if I was buying the case as well figuring that perhaps I could only afford the bass. He didn’t know that I had $225 burning a hole in my pocket. I’d accumulated this money during a summer job at my mother’s office, an aircraft parts distributor. She was my boss that summer and told me if I wanted a really good bass, I’d have to buy it myself. She gave me the job so I could earn it. I really wanted a Precision Bass.

When they finally brought the basses down, Mr. Entwistle opened one of the cases and wearily brushed at the strings as it laid in its orange-lined case. I took the other out and caressed and stroked it like the new lover it was about to become.

I turned to Entwistle who was standing a foot or two away talking to Henry and asked if these weren’t the greatest basses we were buying and he simply said, “The best.” He was so right.

Later that night The Who played the Shaefer Festival in Central Park’s Wollman Rink where I caught Townshend’s pickup cover from his completely smashed Gibson SG. Entwistle did not play the bass that he had bought that evening and I often wondered if he ever did play it or perhaps he made a lamp out of it at a later date.

He was the best rock bass player period. He changed the role and sound of the electric bass like Hendrix changed the sound of the electric guitar. I don’t think he was unappreciated. His fans, myself one for 37 years, are many and varied and devoted. The greatest pleasure in going to see him play was watching him stand so casually still and fly so high into the heavens simultaneously.

He knew he astonished other bass players, after all he was our Jeff Beck. We worshipped and applauded and let it be known that he was the hero of another subspecies of Who fanatics. Anyone who was really listening when they first heard the thunderous solos he blasts off in “My Generation” knew from that day forward the bass was coming out of the shadows. Live at Leeds. Left channel. Case Closed. – Rick Pascual

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The Ox’s Axes

As The Who gained prominence, John Entwistle’s tastes developed and he made the de rigeur progression through various makes and models of bass guitars. By the mid ’70s he’d developed a liking for the Fender bass feel, but favored the low-end tone of Gibson’s Thunderbird through Hi-Watt and Sunn amps. Ever one to resolve a quandry, he had Fender Precision necks fitted to Thunderbird bodies – creating what he called his “Fenderbirds.”

By the late ’70s he had taken to custom-made (and often elaborate) Alembic basses. Through two decades he was often seen in concert and video playing an Alembic with an Explorer-shaped body. By the late ’90s, though, he was playing Status basses with all-graphite necks.

But his personal collection of guitars consisted mostly of six-strings, including some fantastic rarities, like a matched set of 1958 Gibsons – a Flying V and an Explorer – a late-’60s Fender Stratocaster in Paisley Red, and a double-cutaway Gretsch White Penguin made for Mary Ford, and believed to be the only one of its kind. Among the basses in the collection were several early-’50s Fender Precisions, Ampeg Horizontal basses, including a an ASB-1 “Devil Bass,” and a Rickenbacker 4005L “lightshow” bass.

Entwistle collected more than “just guitars.” An avid deep-sea fisherman, he had nearly 300 fish mounted and hanging in his bar at home, to go with a guitar collection that numbered well over 200. He also had a fondness, at varying times, for Star Trek episodes on videotape, brass instruments, and antique synthesizers. He even tried his hand at breeding purebred chickens. He was also an avid drawer, and on a few occasions, toured with his artwork.

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This article originally appeared in VG October 2002 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

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