In the June ’07 issue of VG, amp profiler extraordinaire Dave Hunter said of the Fender Deluxe Reverb, “If guitarists were to vote for the one ‘best amp for all occasions,’ [it] would very likely earn a majority decision’.”
And while this year’s nominees in the VG Hall of Fame “Instrument” category pitted the “DR” against three stalwart guitars, the results speak, um… volumes.
The overwhelming winner (trouncing Gibson’s Firebird and Les Paul Junior as well as Gretsch’s Duo-Jet), the Deluxe Reverb is viewed by many vintage-tone purists as the ultimate guitar amp. Why? Well, for starters (and we’ll recall Hunter’s words here), the DR is “…small enough to crank up into tone territory for recording, rehearsal, or bar gigs, yet loud enough to fill a room and be heard above the drummer in a medium-sized club with just a vocal P.A.”
Introduced in 1963, the DR came along as part of Fender’s storied “blackface” line, and was a fairly dramatic reinterpretation of the previous-generation tweed Deluxe. Though it kept the tweed’s two 6V6 output tubes and 12″ speaker, its circuit was entirely new even beyond the addition of reverb and tremolo (which, by the way, sounded gloriously lush), and there’s precious little not to like! The key changes included a move away from cathode-bias and the addition of a negative-feedback loop around the output stage, giving it class AB operation, rather than the straight class A of the tweed. Also, its split-load phase inverter was replaced with a long-tailed-pair PI, which let it use more of the 6V6s’ headroom. And, the tweed’s Tone control was replaced with controls for separate Treble and Bass. Overall, this configuration was “hotter” and more dynamic than most of the DR’s bigger-brother Fender amps, giving it more focus and headroom while allowing it to retain a deliciously tactile playing feel.
So, what’s it all mean, in meat-and-potatoes terms? We’ll let Hunter’s June ’07 text lay it out (and take us on out)…
“The Deluxe Reverb is a great amp for anything from blues to country to rock and roll, and even jazz. Consequently, it has long been a go-to combo for countless first-call Nashville and L.A. session players.”
John Adomono was an American guitar hero of the Cold War years. JFK named him his favorite guitarist, and Adomono played a command performance at the White House. He performed on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” jammed with the likes of Frank Sinatra, Duke Ellington, and Martin Denny. And at the dawn of the Space Race, he released several LPs of far-out tiki and spacey exotica music.
Adomono was a guitar hero in part because he had a secret weapon in his arsenal.
“John played alone, but most people thought there were five or six players on his records,” remembers Lu Woolley, his promoter and booking agent. “People were absolutely wowed by him. Nobody played like him.”
Adomono’s secret weapon was the Ecco-Fonic, a cutting-edge tape-echo machine. Alongside DeArmond’s Tremolo Control, it was one of the first stand-alone effects for the guitar. The Ecco-Fonic was also a testy, fidgety machine to use. It was never produced in great numbers, embraced by guitarists, nor widely distributed. Yet it remains a guitar milestone. And Adomono was one of the early testers, promoters, and endorsers.
Adomono was Romani. Born in the 1930s, he was playing guitar on the streets of New York City for spare change when he was five years old. He met fellow Roma Django Reinhardt during his sole U.S. visit in 1946, and was inspired to play jazz. But it was Adomono’s introduction to one of Ray Butts’ EchoSonic amps that spurred his fascination with echo and helped create the sound that made him famous.
In the late ’50s or early ’60s, Adomono was playing in Memphis when he met local guitarist John Arnold and borrowed his Gretsch 6120 and EchoSonic amp with built-in tape echo. “He would just play the crap out of it,” Arnold says. “He was amazing. He could get more out of a guitar than anyone that I had ever heard. This was his first time playing with a portable echo chamber. He was so enamored with the thing doing echo and making him sound like more guitars.”
CLOCKWISE) Ecco-Fonic logo from the tan 109-B case. Operating the tape loop on the Ecco-Fonic 109-B required constant head cleaning, motor oiling – and luck. The control panel of the Ecco-Fonic 109-B has the input – a standard 1/4″ plug; output was a RCA plug.
Butts built the EchoSonic in small numbers and mostly sold them by word of mouth, primarily around Memphis. Adomono was on his way west (he would play for decades in Las Vegas at the Thunderbird Hotel, in Honolulu and L.A. at Donn Beach’s Don the Beachcomber lounges, and up and down the West Coast). While in Southern California, he discovered the Ecco-Fonic, which, like the EchoSonic, was largely a regional “secret” despite the builders’ best efforts.
The Ecco-Fonic was the creation of Ray Stolle, who ran a radio-and-TV repair shop on Sunset Boulevard in L.A. No one seems to remember his inspiration or motivation for the tape-echo machine. He built a prototype circa 1959 that differed from the EchoSonic in that the second playback head was adjustable, allowing musicians to fine-tune the time between the original note and echo. As an early flyer touted, “The Variable Delay Control permits the player to select any rate of straight echo playback desired. This can be from a microsecond to as much as a full half-second delay.”
Del Casher showed the potential of Ecco-Fonic on this demonstration EP.
The first Ecco-Fonic had two control knobs: one for delay, the other for Reverberation, which was supposed to control volume decay on the echo. The machine also included an Echo Selector Switch that allowed players to record a short segment, then play along with the loop.
Stolle somehow hooked up with Fender, and the Ecco-Fonic was first promoted in a single-page Fender Sales flyer in summer ’59 as well as Fender’s ad insert in the annual Down Beat magazine guitar issue. But, as John Teagle reported in Vintage Guitar in 1998, Fender Sales chief Don Randall, “reportedly was not impressed with the reliability and test-user satisfaction” of the machine. Among other issues, the first Ecco-Fonic was mounted in a gold-painted metal box with a one-piece top that hampered easy servicing – and as Ecco-Fonic users quickly discovered, the unit needed constant oiling of the motor, head cleaning, and tape replacement.
Stolle lacked the finances to develop his design, so he sold out to E.S. “Eddie” Tubin, who started manufacture of the Ecco-Fonic at 905 S. Vermont Avenue, Los Angeles. Tubin refined the device with the aid of Adomono, guitarist Del Casher, and other early testers. A three-knob version appeared in late ’59, followed in 1960 with the four-knob Model 109, which added an Instrument volume pot blending wet and dry signals.
Tubin’s revised Ecco-Fonic sported a two-piece top, making service access simple. And the tape speed was revised from the 15-inches-per-second of the initial versions to 7.5 IPS, for better fidelity.
Tubin began promoting the 109 in music magazines with endorsements from Adomono, Casher, his accordionist bandmate Tony Lovello, mandolin maestro Dave Apollon, harmonica ace Leo Diamond, Joe Maphis, and Hank Thompson.
The 109 was superseded in autumn, 1960, by the 109-B with a rearranged four-knob control panel and the elimination of the Reverb switch. Thanks to the updates and advertising, the 109 was likely the first Ecco-Fonic to sell in significant numbers; as one ad shouted, “Stepped up production is our response to phenomenal acceptance.”
In 1961, the company was sold again, this time to industrialist Milton Brucker. Early 109-B models carried the legend “Los Angeles California” below the modernistic Ecco-Fonic logo; later versions sported a straighter logo and the address “Hollywood 28 California,” as production moved to Santa Monica Boulevard.
The 109-B was followed by a 109-C with multiple playback heads. This version came in a black-painted case and was likely built in small numbers. Brucker also announced plans for other Ecco-Fonics for churches, auditoriums, and radio stations with the model names Singalong, Vaudevillian, and Encore as well as the console Broadcaster model. It’s unknown how many – if any – of these others were ever made.
(RIGHT) Del Casher on the cover of an early Ecco-Fonic brochure. (LEFT) An early promotional photo of John Adomono.
Teagle believes overall tube Ecco-Fonic production began with serial number 1001 (Casher’s Stolle/Tubin prototype is number 1012) and likely ran into the 3000s before switching to the solidstate version.
In the fall of ’62, Ecco-Fonic was bought out by electrical engineer Bob Marks, who moved shop to Pico Boulevard. With help from chief designer Russ Allee, Marks spearheaded the creation of a solidstate Ecco-Fonic to be distributed exclusively by Fender. Chicago Musical Instruments had taken over production of the Echoplex tape-echo machine under its Maestro line to accompany its Gibson guitars. So Fender rechristened the Ecco-Fonic as the Fender Echo.
The quirkiness of the Ecco-Fonic design always held it back, whereas the Echoplex, thanks in large part to its tape cassette, proved reliable and easy to operate. Fender offered its solidstate machine for several years starting in ’63, but it never sounded as good, and the Echoplex dominated the market. Orders dwindled, and the Fender tape machine was retired. The company soon switched to Tel-Ray’s simpler, but less-effective oil-can echo unit.
John Adomono never gave up on his Ecco-Fonic, however. As a solo guitarist, it was vital to his sound.
“He always used that echo,” promoter Woolley remembers. “He was just one person with one instrument, but the sound blew people away. Women from age 21 to 80 would go crazy for him, and send napkins with notes, trying to make contact.”
One of the most astounding examples of Adomono’s guitar work appears on his 1974 private-label LP Gypsy, which was funded by Woolley and others. Picking his archtop Guild through his tried-and-true Ecco-Fonic, he plays Rimsky-Korsakov’s virtuosic showpiece “Flight Of The Bumblebee,” his fleet picking resounding in multiple layers of warm echo, thanks to his old echo chamber in a box. It’s a masterpiece of guitar music.
This article originally appeared in VG June 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
This Martin 5-18 was made in late 1935 and carries serial number 61745.
The Martin style 5-18 is the smallest guitar in Martin catalogs; at the lower bout, it measures 11.25″, while at the upper bout it is 8.25″. And its body is just 16″ in length, with a scale of 21.4″. In 1930s catalogs, the style 5-18 and the less expensive matching size 5-17 were listed with the caption “Junior, or three-quarter, sizes fine for children; easy to hold and to play.”
Though most players viewed size 5 guitars as “junior” instruments, in the 1950s and ’60s, the style 5-18 was popularized by Marty Robbins, who used it extensively onstage.
Early in the history of the Martin company, guitars of this size were not viewed as a junior or three-quarter instruments, but were part of the Germanic tradition of “terz” guitars, designed to be tuned to a minor third – three frets higher than standard pitch and suitable for solo performances and harmony work. Terz guitars were produced by many 19th-century Germanic makers, and many European composers in the early/mid 19th century – most notably Giuliani and Sor – wrote solo and ensemble music that included parts for terz guitar. C.F. Martin, Sr. was deeply influenced by the designs of Johan Stauffer and was familiar with Stauffer’s terz guitars. Some surviving Martins of the 1830s and ’40s are terz guitars, and have a scale of 22″.
From the 1840s through the 1850s, Martin’s style designation system became increasingly standardized. Guitars were offered in sizes 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, with the largest (size 1) measuring 12.75″ wide and the smallest being the size 5 terz. The very rare size 4 was also designated a terz. As larger guitars became popular during the 1800s, Martin introduced the size 0 measuring 13.5″ wide and later the size 00 measuring 14.125″ wide. It was not until after 1900 that the 15″-wide size 000 was introduced.
The 5-18 was listed as early as 1898 in Martin literature and last appeared in their catalog in 1989, though a Marty Robbins reissue 5-18 has been offered since 2006. With the exception of the slotted peghead, which was discontinued in the late 1940s in favor of a solid peghead, the 1935 5-18 shown here is virtually the same in appearance. This guitar has an Adirondack spruce top, whereas the post-war 5-18 has Sitka spruce. The ’35 has a Brazilian rosewood bridge, fingerboard, and peghead veneer, while those made from 1970 onward have Indian rosewood. The ’35 also has mahogany neck, back, and sides, as do the post-war models.
Though Martin offered size 5 models ranging from style 15 through the elaborately ornamented style 45, the only ones made in any significant quantity prior to World War II were the style 17, 18, and 21 in six-string guitars and styles 17, 18, and 21 tenors, as well as some style 15 post-war size 5 tenors. In recent years, Martin has offered highly ornamented size 5 models.
While terz guitars tuned a minor third above standard are a common instrument in the Germanic tradition, requinto guitars tuned a fourth higher (five frets above standard) are common part of Spanish and Latin American tradition. The requinto used in mariachi music is smaller than the standard-tuned guitars in the band, but has greater volume and projection and plays a significant role in the music. From the mid 1990s until recently, the Tacoma Papoose (tuned five frets above standard) was part of that company’s line, which ranged from the Papoose to standard-size instruments and a baritone guitar as well as acoustic four- and five-string basses.
Though size 5 terz guitars are smaller, they produce as much volume and have as much (if not more) projection than a full-sized/standard-tuned instrument. Many other small instruments have similar qualities; a fine violin can be used to play a solo heard above an entire symphony orchestra without amplification, a mandolin is fully as loud if not more so than any guitar, and the sound from the lone piccolo in a large symphony orchestra can carry throughout a concert hall. In spite of their size, small instruments designed with the proper ratio of air-chamber size to pitch are capable of tremendous volume and projection.
It’s ironic that although size 5 instruments were designed to be tuned three frets above standard pitch and have a scale length very similar to a standard guitar capoed at the third fret, pre-war Martin catalogs, as well as those of the 1950s through ’80s, referred to them as simply three-quarter-sized guitars. They are quite playable tuned to standard pitch, but tuned at least two frets above standard pitch, their sound comes alive. The short scale and smaller body results in a very different sound with excellent tone, volume, and projection. Though three of the four strings of the violin and viola are tuned the same, their tone remains quite different; the same applies to the terz, which has a voice all its own.
Martin’s description for the Marty Robbins 5-18 instructs players to tune the instrument three frets above standard pitch, finally acknowledging (and paying homage to) the fact these are descendents of early terz guitar designs from the homeland of C.F. Martin, Sr.
This article originally appeared in VG June 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Bassist/vocalist/songwriter Greg Lake came to notice in 1969 as member of King Crimson and his membership in Emerson, Lake and Palmer cemented his place in the pantheon of progressive-rock icons. He also recorded numerous solo albums; his most recent, Songs of a Lifetime, is a career retrospective.
“The idea came during the writing of my autobiography,” Lake said. “Every so often, a song would crop up that was in pivotal in the development of my career, [and] I realized they represented the journey the audience and I have shared over the past 40 years.”
There are plenty of classic King Crimson and ELP songs among the 20 tracks on Songs, along with tributes to Elvis and the Beatles. “Both changed the course of musical history, and played a role in my musical development.”
The between-song monologues are entertaining – sometimes extensive – and among them are memories of the art design of King Crimson’s first album as well as how one of ELP’s signature songs, “Lucky Man” evolved from its start with acoustic guitar and drums. Lake declined, however, to cite a particular performance as a favorite or “most interesting.”
“That’s rather like someone asking you to choose between your own children,” he said. “They are all dear to me in one way or another, otherwise they wouldn’t be in the show. Each time I perform a song or a piece of music, I give 100 percent of myself and to try and make it as good as it possibly can be.”
While the album isn’t “unplugged,” acoustic guitars figure prominently.
“I tend to play a lot of the songs on various Gibson J-200s,” Lake said. “I also use a John Lennon Epiphone to play ‘You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away.’ On occasion, I also play a Taylor 12-string and sometimes take out one of my Martin acoustics, just for a change.”
Only one electric bass appears on the album – a gold sparkle, custom-made Sadowsky four-string he describes as “…absolutely superb. Roger Sadowsky is one of the great master guitar builders.”
One of the electric guitars Lake plays is a longtime favorite. “I have a great fondness for the Gretsch 6120,” he said. “Everything about the design and the way it’s finished and appointed makes it one of the best electric guitars. I own an original ’59 and a new one I use for touring. Both are really great guitars.”
The penultimate track on Songs is a plaintive cover of the Impressions’ “People Get Ready,” and not surprisingly, the album concludes with “Karn Evil 9 – 1st Impression, Part 2,” which is better-known to fans by its keystone lyric, “Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends.”
While Emerson, Lake and Palmer have re-grouped more than once, Lake doesn’t anticipate further reunions, noting the band’s three erstwhile members are all following their muses in solo careers.
Likewise, Lake has further plans. “I’m going to perform in Japan soon, and then Italy,” he said. “And, discussions are taking place for future tours.”
This article originally appeared in VG November 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
“Stack-knob” is a catch phrase that for decades has perked the ears of collectors; these relatively rare examples of the earliest Fender Jazz Bass are among the first electric basses to be “collected” instead of just bought, sold, and played! Along with the ’50s Precision, they stand as the ultimate Fender bass – sought for their tone, feel, and aura of cool. Built during the transition between the ’50s and ’60s, they combine the craftsmanship of Fender’s pre-guitar boom period with the modern look.
Nobody knows how many Jazz basses were made before Fender switched to the three-knob configuration, but, as a new and more-expensive model in an era when the electric was considered an illegitimate upstart, the Jazz took time to establish itself as a popular alternative. The number of extant examples is small compared to the number of surviving early-’60s Precisions.
Fender took its time getting a second bass to market. The Precision had been an increasingly familiar sight for about eight years before the Jazz made its debut. Basses from Gibson (the Electric Bass, or EB-1, followed by the semi-hollow EB-2) Rickenbacker (Model 4000), and companies like Kay must have shown Leo and his crew how the market for electric basses was big enough to include a “deluxe” model. Instead of simply updating its one model, as Fender had done in ’54 and again in ’57, it decided to complement the Precision Bass with an upscale sister. Borrowing the new “Offset Contour” body from the Jazzmaster but keeping the long “horns” needed to balance a bass neck, Fender created a beautiful and harmonious design. The pickups were new, keeping the dual polepieces from the ’57 Precision, but with narrower, more-focused field. The stacked knobs gave individual Tone and Volume controls for each pickup – a novel feature for a bass at the time. The three-knob configuration was at the prototype stage, but got the commercial nod, only to be discontinued within two years. A 1960 Fender catalog bound into the July 21 issue of Down Beat shows on its cover what appears to be a three-knob Jazz with a ‘50s-style Fender logo. The bass in the catalog, and the ad in the January ’61 International Musician, is a stack-knob with no logo. Other distinctive “stack” features include the adjustable mute pads under the chrome tailpiece, prominently featured in promotional literature (but eventually removed by most players), the “patent pending” fine print on the headstock decal, and – on the earliest examples – the beloved “’50s bump” on tthe lower cutaway. Fender also promoted the new narrower neck as permitting “rapid technique” – one wonders if a young Jaco Pastorious took this to heart. The original catalog blurb for the Jazz says, “this… is the standard by which others will be compared” and for once a bit of ad copy has held true through the years! The early Jazz is still the standard by which any electric bass can be judged, and most are found wanting.
This article originally appeared in Vintage Guitar Classics No. 2 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Veteran jazz guitarist John Scofield has released a second album with Uberjam, which includes drummer Adam Detich, guitarist Avi Bortnick, and guest keyboardist John Medeski. It’s full of funk and soul, and we talked with Scofield shortly after the group started its current tour.
Why the second record?
We played a lot at the beginning of the millennium, then didn’t for awhile, and I thought it’d be fun to see how we could approach the music after a few years. Once you’ve grown as a group, it’s fun to reunite.
Your career has taken so many roads a traditional jazz player may not. Any particular reason?
Part of me would like to have just one group all the time. The way the market works today, they want a different group every time, if you’re an old, established person like me. They’ve had you at their festival or concert series and they want to bring you back, but they want it to be something else. That’s a pain in the neck, on one hand. On the other hand, it fits with what I like to do; I can be restless. It helps the music in that you never have time to get bored, and one project will feed the other.
Do you see yourself as a restless musician?
After doing it for a while, I think everybody realizes that things change. The best stuff you come up with is kind of spur-of-the-moment. We have to put ourselves in situations that make us come up with new stuff. We have to be restless. Part of me thinks if I could just practice “All the Things You Are” for my whole life and really get it down, that’s the way to go. Part of me feels like that, but I don’t do that.
The record has a real soul vibe.
I realize now, looking back at it, that I grew up during the time when soul was really happening, with James Brown and Aretha in the ’60s. I was aware of the music then and loved it and was a huge fan. I played in bands since I was a kid that tried to play soul music. So, it just seems part of what I love.
It seems like you’re always on tour, usually with someone.
I’m lucky I get to play a lot. This summer, it’s a lot of the jam-band festivals with my band. More in the U.S., and then we’ll hit Europe and Asia.
Speaking of the jam-band thing, you’ve made friends in a lot of genres. People think you’re a jazz guitarist, but there you are hanging with folks like Warren Haynes.
Yeah, yeah, he’s not a jazz guitarist, but he likes jazz. I’m the “jazziest” guy Warren would play with, but when we play, it works. If he played with Tal Farlow, it wouldn’t work. I love blues and I love to play electric and loud. It’s fun for me to get to play with guys who are blues players or funk players and into a different thing.
Speaking of, a year ago you did shows with Robben Ford.
I thought it was completely natural, and I think Robben did, too. We had a lot of fun playing and I hope we do some more. I’ve known Robben… well, I’ve known of him since I saw him at Hop Sing’s, a Chinese restaurant in L.A. that was also a club. He was playing with the group that later became the Yellowjackets. He knocked me out. And then when I [left Miles Davis’ band], he became the guitar player. I remember going to hear them and thinking “Oh s**t, this sounds really good. I wish I’d been able to play the gig like that.” I’m a big Robben Ford fan.
What guitars are you playing these days?
I played my Ibanez AS200 on the record, but I also played a Fender Custom Shop Stratocaster on about half the tunes. My Ibanez is still my number one axe, but I got the Strat a few years ago. I was embarrassed to buy it; I went into Sam Ash in New York and tried a bunch of guitars, and this Strat was great. The thing is, it was all relic’ed up – had a fake cigarette burn on it. And it’s pink. But I got over the shock and got it. Now, I think whatever they do to make it look old actually makes it sound better. It’s a good one.
What about amp on the record?
On this one I used the Vox AC30 that I’ve been playing since the late ’90s. It’s a reissue from then. I didn’t use a lot of effects. All the distortion is just the amp.
This month’s “Fretprints” column by Wolf Marshall focuses on Scofield’s work. See it on page 72.
This article originally appeared in VG November 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Since 2007, guitarist/vocalist Nick Moss has released five albums on his Blue Bella label, including two live discs. And while Moss still loves his Chicago-style blues, his most recent effort, Here I Am, is an adventurous album. Though it begins with a raucous Windy City-type rave-up called “Why You So Mean,” by the third/title track, it’s obvious Moss is up to something, as “Here I Am” is nothing less than a Led-Zeppelin-style stomp.
“That song was born out of frustration with people writing and talking about what I’m supposed to be,” he explained. “So, it’s a blatant statement from me directly, if they really want to know about me.”
Another song makes a similarly assertive statement. “‘Long Haul Jockey’ is about ****ing, not making love… getting down late at night and ‘driving,’ so to speak!”
He noted the album’s funk-type tunes such as “Candy Nation” and “Caught By Surprise” as being “…just fun grooves to play. I am big fan of all things funk. ‘Candy Nation’ is about America’s fascination with medication and pharmaceutical infomercials; ‘Caught By Surprise’ is about a woman turning the tables on a man and using him for her ill-gotten pleasures!”
A perusal of the track list might lead one to believe there are religious connotations to Moss’ songs, as with titles like “Here Comes Moses” and “Sunday Get Together,” but Moss says he was trying to stay in secular mode.
“‘Here Comes Moses’ is my way of relating that there are a lot of good common-sense lessons in the Bible – I’m no religious zealot – and I even say in the song that ‘I’m not without sin’ – and it seems like there are an awful lot of people these days lacking some damn common sense!”
On the other hand, he noted the no-frills recording style of the instrumental “Sunday Get Together,” detailing how it’s “…my Les Paul Standard with ThroBak PG 102 MXV pickups, going through my Orange Dual Terror, recorded live in-studio with very ambient mic placement. The background chatter was added later; I wanted it to sound like a family get-together with kids running around and laughing, and people eating and drinking and having a good time.”
“Katie Ann (Slight Return)” is a paean to Moss’ spouse and business partner, and it originally appeared on an album a decade ago; he recorded an update, which, as he sees it, validated the addition of “(Slight Return)” to its title.
“I wrote the song in 2001 for Got A New Plan,” he averred. “It originally had a Louisiana swamp blues feel. I decided to re-do it for my 10-year anniversary with Kate. I gave it a Hendrix feel, and just went over the top with guitar layers and feedback swells and the whole nine yards – and it was a blast! Just as Jimi did ‘Voodoo Chile’ and ‘Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)’ I called my new version ‘Katie Ann (Slight Return)’ as an homage to Hendrix.”
After the road van, which contained his guitars and gear, was stolen in Montreal in 2008 (where he had played the International Jazz Festival), Moss was forced to “update” his guitar and amplifier collection.
“I lost some really nice guitars, including a beautiful custom guitar made by Steven White, and some nice amps like my ’66 Fender Super Reverb and a very nice ’68 Pro Reverb.”
After the theft, he scored a ’67 Guild Starfire and now also owns several guitars he built himself, along with, “…a couple lawsuit-era Tokais and a great Fernandez Revival given to me by Craig Ruskey, who did the liner notes for Live At Chan’s: Combo Platter No. 2. I’m also awaiting guitars by Kurt Wilson and some amps from Don Ritter at Category 5. I’ve been using them for more than two years.”
Guitars used on Here I Am included an ’81 Burny with ThroBak’s SLE 101 MXV pickups, a custom-built Don Mare with Zepotone pickups, a custom-built guitar with Mare’s Josie pickups, and a Les Paul Standard with ThroBak PG 102 MXV pickups. A Takamine 12-string acoustic is also heard on “It’ll Turn Around.” The slide guitars that are heard were tuned to Open G, and Moss uses a Coricidin bottle for slide. He used a Category 5 Tempest and the aforementioned Orange Dual Terror on most tracks, as well as a Marshall JCM 800.
Here I Am is an ambitious effort that shows just how Nick Moss’ career has evolved.
This article originally appeared in VG September 2012 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
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Nick Moss photo: Jim McKinley.
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Spanish flamenco guitarist Paco de Lucia died February 26 after suffering a heart attack in Cancun, Mexico. He was 66.
In the U.S., de Lucia was best known for his collaborations with jazz-rockers like John McLaughlin, Chick Corea, Larry Coryell, and Al Di Meola, with whom he recorded “Mediterranean Sundance” in 1977. This seminal recording featured intense flamenco improvisations from both players, exposing this Latin guitar style to a new generation of young rock and fusion fans. In the ensuing decades, de Lucia would become regarded as the world’s leading flamenco guitarist and, in some players’ minds, the world’s greatest living guitarist. When he played, there were no effects, no electricity, and no tricks or mirrors – not even a pick. A melding of man, wood, and strings, de Lucia displayed pure, raw ability and a peerless musical sensibility when he held the nylon-string guitar.
Flamenco is an art form of the Roma – the Spanish gypsies who live in the Andalusia region – and involves dance, singing, clapping, playing guitar, and using hand percussion. Though not a Roma himself, de Lucia was exposed to it via his father and brothers, who were flamenco musicians, and he began playing guitar at age seven. Born as Francisco Sanchez Gomez in 1947, he started performing at 11, cutting his first album at 15. In the late ’60s, he began a partnership with flamenco singer El Camarón de la Isla and the two invented an electrifying new style of flamenco that catapulted them to national fame.
Paco’s break in Amercia came via “Mediterranean Sundance” and two years later, he began working with John McLaughlin and Larry Coryell in what later became known as the Guitar Trio, fusing jazz, flamenco, World, and more than a little rock attitude, but entirely on acoustic guitars (McLaughlin and Coryell flatpicking on roundback Ovation acoustic-electrics, while de Lucia picked with fingers and nails on a traditional nylon-string). As Paco de Lucia once told NPR about his style, “My flamenco is not a fusion. I have always been careful that it doesn’t lose the essence, roots and tradition of what is flamenco. I have incorporated other things, but things that have not altered the philosophy of the music. I have, as my only interest in all this, to grow as a musician who plays flamenco and not to bring things that some way or another changes the identity of this music.”
In 1981, Al Di Meola replaced Coryell in the Trio, and the three recorded Friday Night in San Francisco. Surprising everyone, the LP hit the pop charts and eventually sold seven million copies. de Lucia, McLaughlin, and Di Meloa followed up with a studio album – the excellent, but lamentably overlooked Passion, Grace & Fire – and toured for the next few years.
The three performed to sold-out audiences of screaming fans and received glowing reviews from the most jaded critics. Even with McLaughlin and Di Meola’s prodigious skills, de Lucia always stole the show with his high-speed (“picado”) picking chops, and those jaw-dropping strumming and string-raking techniques (“rasgueado”). The Trio’s 1983 tour further featured Dixie Dregs leader Steve Morse on solo acoustic guitar and, each night, he joined them for an explosive four-way guitar finale. In the mainstream pop world, de Lucia also played on singer Bryan Adams’ 1995 hit, “Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman.”
Upon hearing of his friend’s death, McLaughlin was quick to note, “Paco was passionate, but had true compassion and a deep understanding of the human condition. All this was revealed in his music and marvelous guitar playing. To have worked and played music with him is one the greatest blessings in my life. In the place where he lived in my heart, there is now an emptiness that will stay with me ’til I join him.”
“I was part of Chick Corea’s Return to Forever when I was 19 and we toured Spain,” added fellow six-string master Al Di Meola. “It was there that I heard the buzz about Paco and saw the potential of our collaborating one day. His technique far surpassed any other flamenco-type players and I envisioned an amazing collaboration between us. That day happened in 1977. We made history when I invited him to New York and we recorded ‘Mediterranean Sundance’ at Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Lady Studio. Surprisingly, it became the equivalent of a major pop hit around the world and was played on the radio everywhere, something unheard of in non-vocal music up until them.
“Right now, I am so sad at his passing and will forever miss Paco. But, I will remember our thousands of great memories and musical camaraderie. RIP, my dear friend!”
This article originally appeared in VG June 2014 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
In his prime, Howard Roberts played more than 900 studio dates annually and recorded the hippest guitar records of the era. His legion of fans still revere his incalculable influence and musical legacy.
Vesta Roberts, who grew up in a family of lumberjacks, gave birth to Howard just three weeks before the Wall Street Crash in October of 1929. Howard’s dad, a cowboy, wasn’t happy about the boy’s affinity for music. But his mother prayed for her baby to be a musician, and Howard often told the story about, “When I was about eight years old, I fell asleep in the back seat of my parents’ car one very hot summer afternoon. When I woke up I just blurted out, ‘I have to play the guitar!’” So when his dad saw the youngster’s attempt to build one from a board and bailing wire, he acquiesced. For Christmas, he bought young Howard an $18 Kalamazoo student-model acoustic manufactured by Gibson.
By age 15, Roberts’ guitar teacher, Horace Hatchett, told the boy’s dad, “Howard has his own style of playing and there’s nothing else I can show him. He plays better than I do.” Howard was already playing club dates in their hometown Phoenix area – usually blues and jazz gigs on which he would gain playing experience and develop his improvising skills. He was receiving an extensive education in the blues from a number of black musicians, one of whom was the brilliant trumpeter Art Farmer. Journalist Steve Voce, in his 1992 article in The Independent Newsletter, quoted Roberts on those nightclub gigs, “I came out of the blues. I started in that scene when I was 15 and it was the most valuable experience in the world for me.”
Roberts had created an heroic practice regimen with his roommate, guitarist Howard Heitmeyer. The two would practice three or four hours in the morning, catch an afternoon movie, then return to practice until it was time to hit the clubs, gig or not. Heitmeyer would remain Roberts’ lifelong friend, and someone with a comprehensive talent Roberts found staggering.
At age 17, Roberts was drawn to a class created by composer/theorist Joseph Schillinger, whose students included George Gershwin, Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman, and Oscar Levant. Noted musician Fabian Andre was commissioned to teach
Schillinger’s system of applying mathematical principles to art piqued Roberts’ curiosity, so he arranged a deal with Andre; he’d sweep the floors after class to defray his tuition. That attitude was indicative of the teenager’s precocious intellect and passion for music and science.
By the late ’40s, many of the better players in Phoenix had split for the more rewarding jazz scenes in Chicago and New York. Roberts was gigging with his boyhood friend, Pete Jolly, who’s now a name jazz pianist. In fact, Roberts’ birth of fire on the road as a pro musician was with Jolly. The two toured Washington and Idaho in early 1950.
A group of Roberts’ regularly-used guitars in 1982 (from left); a Gibson ES-175 with a 22 fret dot fingerboard, the Gibson ES-150 “Black Guitar” (see sidebar), Epiphone HR Custom, a Gibson HR Artist in natural finish, Gibson HR Fusion. Photo: Andrea Augé.
In late 1950 – 20 and driven by ambition – Roberts headed for Los Angeles. He arrived with no place to live and carried only his guitar and amp. He was attired in a shiny blue suit that he would wear daily for the next year. Sometimes he’d have to staple its split seams.
For a year or so, he paid his blues dues and lived a spartan existence by choice. He didn’t want possessions, save his guitar and amp. He said he didn’t want a car or even a wristwatch. He’d sleep on friends’ sofas or in their cars and would avail himself of whatever largesse was offered. And he nurtured himself with music, haunting the after-hours scene and jamming with jazz luminaries like Dexter Gordon, Sonny Stitt, and Buddy DeFranco. That focus and dedication was a harbinger of the attitude and aura he exuded, especially after he became well-known.
Roberts met jazz great Barney Kessel after hearing him play one night. That meeting developed into an important and lasting friendship; Kessel introduced Roberts to guitarist Jack Marshall, who was becoming a heavy hitter in the Hollywood music scene. Marshall became a close friend, employer, and mentor to the young guitarist, and would eventually sign him to Capitol Records. But Roberts’ first L.A. gig was working on “The Al Pierce Show,” a radio broadcast that a prescient 10-year-old Howard had told his mom he’d be on someday. It was the first folding money he was to make in L.A.; he was paid $550 per week. He also landed a gig teaching guitar at the vocational Westlake College.
In ’52, Roberts scored his first record date, the obscure “Jam Session No. 10” with reed man Gerry Mulligan and pianist Jimmy Rowles. Later that year, he recorded Live at the Haig with the Wardell Grey Quintet, then a Bobby Troup album for Capitol in ’53.
By ’55, he was working with drummer Chico Hamilton and bassist George Duvivier. They recorded an album for the Pacific Jazz label entitled The Chico Hamilton Trio, a recording that netted Roberts the Downbeat New Star Award.
In ’56, Bobby Troup signed Roberts to Verve, a label where Kessel had an artist-and-repertoire position. Kessel produced Mr. Roberts Plays Guitar featuring arrangements by three of Hollywood’s best – Jack Marshall, Marty Paich, and Bill Holman. Another album for Verve, Good Pickin’s, followed in ’59. Roberts was becoming a success.
One of his session dates became a legendary Hollywood studio story. In May of ’58, he was hired for a Peggy Lee record date. When it was time to lay down the track for what would become Lee’s huge hit, “Fever,” producer Jack Marshall decided to lose the guitar part. Consequently, that’s Howard snapping his fingers along with Max Bennett’s bass line and Lee’s vocals. Some still wonder if he got paid what session players call a “double”; he made the date with his guitar, but ended up appearing with another “instrument” – snapping his fingers.
In ’59, Marshall was composing hip background scores for a western TV series entitled “The Deputy,” which starred Henry Fonda. Marshall wanted to feature jazz guitar on the scores, and hired Howard to improvise over many of the action sequences. Having a jazz guitar line complement a scene with cowboys riding at full gallop was a fresh and distinctive approach.
“Jack Marshall let Howard just blow as much as he wanted to,” studio vet Bill Pitman said of the sessions.
Photo: Rick Gould.
Howard Roberts’ “Black Guitar”
The “Black Guitar” was Howard Roberts’ trademark guitar of the 1960s-’70s. “H.R.” preferred this highly modified instrument during his most active years, playing it on countless studio dates. It can be heard on many of his recordings, including Color Him Funky, H.R. Is A Dirty Guitar Player, and The Magic Band Live At Donte’s.The Black Guitar began life as a Gibson ES-150 “Charlie Christian model.”Roberts acquired it from Herb Ellis, who remembers buying it new and keeping it as a spare. Roberts made numerous changes reflecting his tastes and preferences, the most dramatic being the slimmer body, the shape of the cutaway, an extended/repositioned neck, fingerboard replacement, and upgraded electronics.The original ES-150 was 33/8″ deep with a carved spruce top, maple sides and back, and a non-cutaway shape. H.R. had it thinned to a 23/4″ profile. The ES-150 had a flat back, while the Black Guitar has a laminated-maple arched back and possibly a reworked arched top. Nick Esposito did the labor.The Black Guitar sports an asymmetric double-cutaway shape, a notch in its upper bass bout, and a deeper Venetian cutaway going to its 17th-fret joint. The modified junction block has a larger maple piece to stabilize the deeper cutaway and joint. The fingerboard was replaced with a longer ebony board with dot inlays and 20 frets. Roberts recontoured the neck in stages, applying autobody filler that could be easily shaped and sanded. Its scale length is 251/4″, its fingerboard is fairly flat with a slight radius. Its width is 111/16″ at the nut and 23/8″ at the 12th fret – slightly wider than normal. The fret wire is .093 (a wider modern style) and the frets were milled down. Fingerboard and fretwork was performed by Jack Willock, an original artisan at Gibson’s Kalamazoo factory.The headstock retains a Gibson silhouette and is fitted with Grover Imperial tuners – five chrome-plated and one nickel-plated. It has a simple truss rod cover and no ornamentation or script. The headstock shows wear at the top edge, owing to H.R.’s habit of leaning his guitar against a wall.The guitar received a black nitrocellulose-lacquer finish, applied by H.R. himself. Cosmetic appointments include single binding on the headstock, fingerboard, body edges, and f-holes. Replacements include barrel knobs, Brazilian rosewood bridge, and tortoiseshell pickguard. The trapeze tailpiece is likely its only original ES-150 part.H.R. replaced the bar pickup with a P-90 single-coil unit. He modified its cover, enlarging the polepiece holes so the coil was closer to the fingerboard. Its resistance measures 8.67k ohms, slightly greater than a Gibson P-90 reissue. The output jack was relocated to the side rim.The guitar has unique tonal qualities – a woody, live acoustic sound that sings and is filled with harmonics. – Wolf Marshall
The Capitol Albums
Jack Marshall again played a pivotal role in Howard’s career. As house producer for Capitol Records, Marshall signed the guitarist to a record deal in February of 1963. Capitol wanted to create a stable of instrumentalists to record MOR versions of current pop songs and show tunes. The Capitol execs were simply looking for airplay that would translate into sales. That record contract ultimately led to 11 Roberts releases for the label. The first, in early ’63, Color Him Funky, followed by H.R. is a Dirty Guitar Player six months later, created a fan base unequaled by any jazz guitarist of the decade. He was forever after referred to by his initials, H.R., and his subsequent albums for Capitol, released twice a year through ’68, were the most eagerly awaited records of any jazz guitarist.
“Howard really blurred the lines among guitar players, and reached so many of them,” Ted Greene said in 2003. “Jazz guys, country players, and rockers all loved him because he played with such feeling and authenticity. Those first two Capitol albums were no doubt an introduction to jazz guitar for hundreds – maybe thousands – of young players. He didn’t water anything down, but it was all still accessible. And he had a recognizable sound. You immediately knew it was Howard.”
Mitch Holder (VG, January ’96/April ’97), a veteran of thousands of sessions, was Roberts’ most notable protege. In fact, he literally wrote the book on Roberts, The Jazz Guitar Stylings of Howard Roberts.
“The record company chose the tunes from the pop charts and Broadway,” said Holder. “I know when he got ‘Winchester Cathedral.’ He was thinking, ‘What am I gonna do with this piece of crap?’ But he worked it up to have an old-timey banjo sound, and it became a masterpiece.” It, and several other meticulous H.R. transcriptions, are included in Holder’s book.
Hollywood studio guitar doyen Bob Bain laughed, “Howard would pull all-nighters before those sessions. He’d stay up arranging, then go straight to the studio to record. Jack [Marshall] and Howard would come to my place and stay up writing charts and arrangements for the next day’s session. Even if I wasn’t there, my wife, Judy, would give them the run of the place. Sometimes, I’d be on the date with them the next day… though I had enough sense to get some sleep!”
The Capitol albums brought Roberts major visibility among guitarists and jazz fans. He was, however, paid only scale for the dates, and never got a dime on the back end.
The Studio Years
Holder recalls Roberts’ reaction to much of L.A.’s jazz scene moving to New York in the early ’60s. “Many of the L.A. jazz musicians consequently turned to the film and TV studios for their livelihoods,” he said. That’s when Roberts quickly became a first-call session player who would eventually, and later routinely, log more than 900 sessions per year. That includes playing on nearly 400 film scores. Howard said between 1966 and ’76, he played on more than 2,000 record albums.
In addition to “The Deputy,” Roberts’ TV work included playing the eerie theme for “The Twilight Zone,” working on the scores for “The Munsters,” “The Flintstones,” “The Addams Family,” “Gilligan’s Island” and hundreds more. He even played scene-transition cues on the plectrum banjo for “The Beverly Hillbillies.” On his record dates, he lent his talent to such artists as Peggy Lee, Dean Martin, Elvis Presley, Ray Charles, Bobby Darin, Duane Eddy, The Monkees, Jimmy Smith, The Beach Boys, Rick Nelson, Johnny “Guitar” Watson, The Electric Prunes, and even Chet Atkins.
One story commonly passed along illuminates Roberts’ iconoclastic and colorful nature. Chronicled in Don Menn’s 1979 interview with Roberts for Guitar Player, it recounts H.R. emerging heroic from an embarrassing predicament on a recording date for the ’65 film The Sandpiper.
The session was at MGM, where studio parking was unavailable to musicians. Roberts was 30 minutes late and had to park three blocks away, then run through a downpour. The part called for his nylon-string guitar, for which he had no case. So he carried it in a paper bag, and when he arrived, the impatient conductor, Robert Armbruster, glowered at Roberts, who was emptying water from his guitar on to the studio floor. Once the little Martin was wiped off, Armbruster told him, “Well, you have to play this solo and I have to get the timing right.”
“It had to be on the money, something like 51.2 seconds long,”Roberts recalled. “And I was shocked when I saw the music. I’d never played those chords in my life. But by golly, I got it right the very first time. And the conductor got it right. It was so amazing that everyone applauded.”
The famous song from that film, “The Shadow of Your Smile” was a catalyst in connecting a teenaged Holder to Roberts. Holder was studying the tune with his teacher when he heard Roberts’ recording of “Shadow” on his Capitol album, Whatever’s Fair.
“The treatment was so different that it blew me away,” Holder recalls. “Everybody played it as a slow ballad, but here’s Howard playing it as a medium-tempo swing, and just making it cook! Well my dad, who was a doctor, had a patient who knew Howard, and arranged for me to take lessons from him. So, H.R. started taking me to sessions right away.
“The first time I met him, he wanted me to wait right outside of Universal. This was in 1966. I didn’t know what to expect, but here comes this red Porsche. The door flies open, and Howard says, ‘Hop in.’ I thought, ‘This guy is way cool. Here’s a jazz guitar player, driving a red Porsche and taking me to Universal, where he’s doing a session with my other hero, Barney Kessel.’ I was mesmerized.”
Speaking of Kessel, Roberts once asked the jazz great for a guitar lesson. Kessel responded, “The only thing I can teach you is that there’s nothing I can teach you.”
Photo: Tim May.
Howard Roberts’ ’37 Epiphone Broadway
This is a1937 Epiphone Broadway, but it has a Deluxe-style neck and fingerboard. I bought it about five years ago from a guitar player named John Hannam, who lives in Oregon and hung out with Howard when he lived there. John acquired the guitar from Howard’s widow, Patty, and my understanding is that Howard got the guitar from George Van Eps. I recently showed the guitar to Bob Bain, who played a lot with George Van Eps, and Bob instantly remembered George playing this guitar before George went to the seven-string.As far as I know, the guitar was built by Epiphone with this neck, and blond finish. John had it refinished by a luthier named Saul Koll, who did a beautiful job. John Carruthers built and installed the floating pickup for me. The guitar sounds incredible, and plays great!There’s an old Epiphone ad that shows Howard Roberts playing what looks like this guitar. – Tim May
Spector and H.R. – Oil and Water
Holder also recalls how Roberts told him about one day becoming so aggravated after a studio date that he smashed his Martin nylon-string in the fireplace. “It was because of a Phil Spector session,” Holder said.
H.R.’s relationship with the producer was indeed strained. Often, Spector’s sessions called for Roberts to play a barre chord on a 12-string for hours at a time. It was typical of Spector to slavishly rehearse his musicians for hours. Consequently, Howard developed hand problems. “I had to get a specialist from Canada to come down and straighten me out,” he said.
Holder related another dissonant episode between Roberts and Spector, when the producer had a penchant for packing heat at his sessions. Roberts, an avid outdoorsman with a fervent respect for firearms, recoiled on a date when Spector’s pistol fired into the ceiling. H.R. left the session, telling Spector, “I just can’t do this. I can’t stay here. Don’t call me again.” In Denny Tedesco’s documentary, The Wrecking Crew, noted session drummer Hal Blaine said, “Howard Roberts was the only person I’ve ever seen walk out on a date.” Holder added, “It wasn’t really like Howard to get mad, but he had such respect for firearms.”
Benson Amps
In 1968, Roberts was working virtually non-stop in the studios and gigging at night with such jazz greats as Buddy DeFranco and Jack Sheldon. Because he was playing both jazz and rock dates, he needed an amplifier that would produce a variety of sounds. At the time, no commercial amp offered tremolo, reverb and the various sonics he needed on a daily basis. Ron Benson, Roberts’ former student, wanted to build something that replicated the jazz sound of their favorite amp, Gibson’s GA-50.
“The GA-50 had a gorgeous jazz sound, but wasn’t suitable for the studio,” Benson said. “And it wasn’t very powerful. So if Howard played a club with even a trio, it would get buried. Also, he’d been using a very low-power Gibson Falcon in the studios. It was small with a 12″ speaker and a tiny magnet, but it got the rock sound he needed. So I told Howard I was going to build an amp that sounded like the GA-50 but with more power. He told me he’d give me the funds to build one for each of us. I took a year, but after he’d played it on several dates other players became interested. So we’d build amps in my garage. Then, one night, Howard went outside and dropped all the beer bottles in a metal trash can and woke the neighbors up. They figured out we had a business going and the city made us move.” After a few years and a couple of unfortunate investor snafus, the Benson company eventually folded, but still produced about 2,000 amps.
Today, a few lucky players own one. Studio ace Tim May has one, along with a box full of the sound-processor modules that plug in the amp’s rear. “I use an old Benson 300 with a 15″ Altec,” May said. “It gets a real presence and a rich sound. It’s a great amp and weighs 300 pounds (laughs)! But it’s the best jazz amp around. I recorded an album in ’99 and did an A/B comparison with several amps, and the Benson was the cleanest and the richest. You could play really thick-voiced chords and hear every note with no intermodulation.”
Seminars, Columns, Books, and GIT
After years of the studio grind, Roberts felt the need to fulfill his passion for teaching. He created a guitar curriculum that included much of what he’d learned throughout his career. He covered such subjects as learning techniques, coping with difficult charts, sonic shapes, and even a tongue-in-cheek icebreaker – finding a place to park. He was soon traveling the country, presenting seminars.
“I drove from Seattle to San Francisco in 1972 to a Howard Roberts Seminar at the American Music Hall,” recalls Roberts associate Don Mock. Like everybody else, I saw the ad in Guitar Player, paid my $100, and was among about 30 students. When it was time for someone to get up and play a song with Howard, I got volunteered, as I was one of the better players there.
“Later, I mentioned to him that I had a ton of students in Seattle and that he should present a seminar there. He said, ‘Okay, I’ll come. You put it on.’ And he did, and I had about 60 people show up. Then he started coming regularly in ’74.”
Not long after, having spent years on the road and having moved his family to Oregon, Mock recalls how Roberts struck on an idea.
“One day, probably in 1975, we were eating breakfast and he said, ‘What do think about a school for guitar players? I know a guy in L.A., Pat Hicks, who wants to open a vocational school for guitarists.’” said Mock. In subsequent months, Roberts’ brainchild, Guitar Institute of Technology (now the Musician’s Institute of Technology) was realized.
In addition, Howard formed Playback Publishing with the agenda of upgrading guitar education and controlling the quality of materials. Playback published The Howard Roberts Guitar Book, Howard Roberts Chord Melody, Sightreading by Howard Roberts, Super Chops, and his educational masterpiece, Praxis.
H.R. also began writing a popular monthly column for Guitar Player magazine in which he covered many of the topics from his seminars. The column lasted 15 years.
Holder reiterates Roberts’ important teaching caveat: Through thematic development, anything will work over anything. Through voice leading, any chord will go to any chord.
“That sums up the basis for his playing – thematic development was first and foremost, and you can hear that principle on anything he ever recorded,” Holder added. “I’ve got it framed in my home studio as a reminder for when I get out of line. H.R. is watching… and listening!”
Photo: Mitch Holder.
The Gibson Howard Roberts Prototype
Howard Roberts played this first prototype of his signature-model Gibson after he retired his famed “Black Guitar” in 1973 until his passing in 1992. It can be heard on numerous albums, including Sounds, Equinox Express Elevator, and The Real Howard Roberts. It’s also pictured in the book American Guitars by Tom Wheeler, and The Jazz Guitar, by Maurice Summerfield. He also used it for his own clinics as well as those he conducted for Gibson, played it on the road, and at G.I.T.Bruce Bolen, who was the head of R&D at Gibson in the ’70s and ’80s, recalled how Howard wanted a couple of changes over the Epi models, mainly a laminated top rather than spruce, and the addition of two frets, giving it 22. At the time, Gibson was working with Bill Lawrence, who designed a full-sized humbucker for the guitar, using a combination of Alnico and ceramic magnets.According to Bruce, building this guitar proved a challenge, as shop personnel were reluctant to take it on because it would require a lot of handwork. But it happened, and the guitar was then sent to Howard for final approval.While playing in Seattle in 2000, I visited Patty, and asked if any of Howard’s guitars were still around. She said this one was being cared for by a friend. She had it sent to me, and I was surprised at its condition, as Howard was noted for being hard on instruments. He did make some changes, including removing the outer mid-range control, replacing it with Volume and Tone controls. He also changed the original Epiphone pickguard for a bound Gibson-type typically used on an L-5, Super 4, Byrdland, etc. – Mitch Holder
H.R.’s Guitars
Roberts was frequently pictured with a modified ’30s Gibson ES-150 known among aficionados and collectors as a “Charlie Christian model.” It was his main jazz axe from the early ’60s until 1973. Holder’s book documents how it was altered so much it’s almost unidentifiable as an ES-150.
Originally belonging to Herb Ellis (it was his first guitar, in fact), Roberts purchased it from him in the ’50s. Ellis had a repairman replace the neck to allow access to the upper fretboard, and created a notch/cutaway on the upper bass bout. Roberts had his repairman, Jack Willock, make an ebony fingerboard for it. He also had Willock use Bondo autobody filler to beef up the neck, and changed the original bar pickup to a P-90.
On Mike Evans’ website dedicated to Roberts, guitar aficionado Larry Grinnell recounts the story behind the first Epiphone Howard Roberts model. “Chicago Musical Instruments, Gibson’s parent company, called on product designer and clinician Andy Nelson to head the Epiphone line. In 1962, Nelson contacted a very receptive Howard about endorsing an Epi. The two traded ideas and sketched a concept Nelson sent to the suits at C.M.I., who in turn passed it along to the Gibson factory in Kalamazoo, where Epiphones were being built.”
“Many months later, I saw a memo from C.M.I., announcing a new Epiphone Howard Roberts model,” Nelson added. “It was nothing like our drawings; it was more like a Gibson L-4 (16″ wide, sharp cutaway, carved spruce top) body with an oval soundhole and a Gibson humbucking pickup mounted on the end of the fingerboard. The neck had a notched block inlay on the rosewood fingerboard and Epiphone’s ‘tree of life’ inlay on the peghead. It was a beautiful instrument, no matter who designed it. I later heard through the grapevine that Ted McCarty, Gibson’s president, contacted Howard and got him to agree to the changes that became the Epiphone (and later Gibson) Howard Roberts model. The Kalamazoo factory was busy building a variety of models, and a unique new one would have created an additional burden. So they used the slow-selling L-4 as a base. It was easier to modify and they could use existing tooling rather than create a new guitar.”
Tim May’s Benson 300 amp, designed and built by Ron Benson and Howard Roberts. photo courtesy of Tim May.
After taking delivery, Roberts called it, “The best guitar I’ve ever owned.” Unfortunately, it and his Benson amp were stolen just three months after it was delivered.
In ’64, the Howard Roberts Standard was introduced, and shortly after, the Custom. Both had an L-4 body but differed in neck configuration, hardware, and cosmetics. The headstock of the Custom sported Epiphone’s traditional vine inlay and an ebony fretboard, while the Standard had an unbound headstock with a different inlay and a rosewood fingerboard. Gibson used its new Johnny Smith floating humbucker attached with a bracket at the end of the neck.
“The first version wound up in the price list in ’69 and early ’70, as Gibsons,” said Holder, who owns a Gibson H.R. prototype. “The main differences are the laminated maple top and rosewood fingerboard.”
The H.R. Fusion was another, less-fancy model, with 22 frets and a stop tailpiece. It had little in the way of cosmetics, but Roberts used it while conducting seminars and on a few club dates.
Magnanimous, Mystical, and Anything But “Misty”
Session ace Mike Anthony considered Roberts his avuncular mentor. “The first time I took a lesson from Howard, just being in his presence changed my life and attitude,” he said. “He put me on a new path and kicked my ass into a studio career. He told me I was ready. And with confirmation from someone like Howard, it really meant something.”
Bassist Chuck Berghofer echoed Anthony’s sentiments. Best known for his bass line on the theme for TV’s “Barney Miller” and his upright playing on “These Boots Are Made For Walking,” Berghofer said, “Howard called me for his Capitol sessions, helping me get a foothold in the studios. And he showed me how to use the power of positive thinking. I’m still playing regular studio dates 40 years later.”
Guitarist Howard Alden studied at G.I.T. and remained there as an instructor before splitting for New York and a major jazz career. Among his many other film gigs, that’s Alden playing guitar for Sean Penn in Woody Allen’s Sweet and Lowdown.
A 19-year-old Howard Roberts and Pete Jolly (age 16) playing at the Mecca Lounge, in Phoenix. Roberts is playing his Epiphone Deluxe with a DeArmond pickup. Photo courtesy of Mike Evans
“Howard encouraged me to hang with good players, because they won’t be competitive,” Alden said. “And if you have to find a substitute for yourself on a gig, find the best player you can. Your employer will appreciate it. The first two or three afternoons we spent together, he made so many things understandable and clear, and introduced me to his ideas of learning efficiently and intelligently. At that time, he was showing me what eventually became his book, Super Chops.”
Roberts son, Jay, whose album, Son of a Dirty Guitar Player, showcases his own monster chops and progressive playing, gave a glimpse of his dad’s teaching technique. “When I moved out at age 18, I’d return every night to hang and play. Sometimes, when I’d ask, ‘What song?’ he would say, ‘No song and no key.’ And he’d turn off the lights so we’d be in the dark. He’d accompany me with these lush chords and provide a real foundation. And he’d always save me just before I’d crash. Sometimes, he would limit me to one string and tape off the other five. He’s say, ‘It takes 21 days to “own” something you’re learning.’ That’s how long it takes the brain and your muscle memory to retain what you’re working on. He also taught me to put down my guitar after I’d played something correctly so my subsconscious mind could process it. You don’t want to clutter things and undermine your progress.”
And May, who played the outrageous version of “Johnny B. Goode” for Michael J. Fox’s character in Back to the Future, adds, “When Howard was very sick I’d call to ask him how he was doing. He’d say, ‘I’m dying, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. But how are you doing? Are you getting to play?’”
Mock, who today works with Jay Roberts at the Roberts Institute of Music, in Seattle, added, “I’ve never met anybody even remotely similar to Howard. He was so intense and inspiring.”
Pitman, who was usually in the rhythm section of H.R.’s Capitol recordings said, “Howard was always learning and striving for new things and wanted everything to sound hipper. He had so much energy and wouldn’t settle for his own brilliance. He had to keep moving and finding something new. He was insatiable that way.”
Roberts’ daughter, Madelyn, relates a story of her dad being called for a San Francisco rock session he didn’t want to play. He knew there was capable talent there to cover it, so he priced himself out of the date by asking an ridiculous amount, “Something like three grand,” she recalled. “But the producer still wanted him. When he got there, he looked at the chart and saw it was a mess. That’s when he knew why he’d been called. The producer knew Dad was a professional and wouldn’t embarrass him in front of his artist. So he laid down tracks he thought would enhance the session, like nothing was wrong. He told me, ‘I got the call because I was an old pro.’”
H.R.’s Philosophy
In Menn’s 1979 feature in GP, Roberts said, “I don’t like to play in public, especially when the name of the game is ‘Play “Misty” the way we heard you do it 20 years ago.’ Every kind of music you’re forced to play and can’t get out of drives me crazy. Whether it’s rock, jazz, or even classical, after its identity is established, it comes clichéd. So the player has to act out the cliché or he’s not believable. And jazz doesn’t mean a doggone thing. Does anything fall shorter of the mark than to describe a form of music as jazz? You ask people on the street, and one might say Stan Kenton and another might say John Coltrane. But their music is vastly different. So for me, if all things were wonderful, I’d be an explorer, an astronomer looking for a new star. Or a hobbyist putting combinations of pitches and notes together. The guitar to me is like what a typewriter is to a novelist – a tool for expression. And I truly believe that a good musician can do more to change the temperament and attitude of society than 30 of your average city mayors.”
Roberts died in June, 1992, after being diagnosed with prostate cancer a year earlier. His wife, Patty, perhaps best reveals his philosophy and attitude. “Howard was very sick, and I had asked him if he was worried about crossing over. He said, ‘I’m only worried about one thing. What am I going to say to Bach?’”
Special thanks to professor Mike Evans of the University of Toronto, Don Menn, Mitch Holder, and Larry Grinnell.
This article originally appeared in VG September 2011 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Started with a quick repair to a Boss pedal in Josh Scott’s Mississippi apartment, JHS has evolved into a well-regarded and growing boutique pedal company thanks to offerings like their SuperBolt and Morning Glory.
The SuperBolt is one of those pedals that tube hounds crave, one that reacts with a good amp rather than smothering it with gain. The goal of this box is to re-create the sound of ’60s Supro (and Valco) amps, which appeared in countless Led Zeppelin tracks and on early Stray Cats cuts, as well as other legendary recordings. The original was a 1×12 tube combo with a unique overdrive sound, dirty, but warm with lots of personality. Its tone was certainly not a one-trick-pony overdrive (Jimmy Page’s epic guitar solo in “Stairway to Heaven” was cut through a Supro), and that’s precisely what JHS is after with the SuperBolt: variety with classic soul and dimension.
The pedal is classic and simple: there are just three knobs (Tone, Vol, and Drive), and a Hi/Low toggle switch, as well as an AC adapter jack and guitar in/out. Internally, the circuit converts the 9-volt juice to 18 volts for more punch and headroom. As befitting such a simple pedal, just plug in a guitar and a decent amp, preferably tube, to find flavors aplenty. Dial in fatter, thicker tones that Page would have used on “Communication Breakdown,” “Whole Lotta Love,” or “Heartbreaker” – beefy tube tones that provide ample sustain without overblown distortion. Think of the SuperBolt as a musical overdrive solution, providing plenty of dynamics, even though the sound is still smokin’ in that great ’70s way (think Zep, Aerosmith, ZZ Top, or Rick Derringer).
Conversely, dial back the heavy artillery and go for cleaner sounds, as Page frequently did in the mid-Zeppelin era; think “The Song Remains the Same,” “The Ocean,” or Songs from Physical Graffiti like “The Rover” or “Custard Pie.” Here, Page developed tones that rocked but provided clear note definition, and the SuperBolt emulates that nicely. Play around, too, with the Hi/Low toggle. Hi provides more headroom and upper mids, while Low goes to a darker, mellow tone; roll back the Drive for some interesting jazzy textures. No matter where one goes on the SuperBolt, it seems, there are cool sounds, from sultry to blistering, to be discovered.
The Morning Glory takes a similar track, but it dials back the gain even more. This pedal is for the cat who really wants transparency – i.e., guitar and amp shining through, with a pedal to accentuate every note. Think about what the right bit of salt and pepper can do to food, bringing out interesting flavors without burying them. Scott’s idea behind the Morning Glory was to tweak the original English-made “black box” Marshall Blues Breaker overdrive that he’d been using for a decade.
Like the SuperBolt, the Morning Glory just has three knobs (Vol, Drive, and Tone), plus a Bright Cut switch to match the EQ to your rig. In testing, the pedal added just the right dimension to almost anything played on the cleaner side of the gain spectrum, putting in a little tube “sag” for taste. Strats and P90-fitted axes really loved the Morning Glory, which brought out all sorts of chewy, funky single-coil tones. Again, a nice little bit of grit, but with much of the test guitars’ personalities coming through. Also admirable is the lack of hype here – the Morning Glory is an honest tone tool that works to improve tone, headroom, and dynamics. Add in true-bypass switching and road-ready construction on both the SuperBolt and the Morning Glory, and you have a pair of winners from JHS. The hard part is deciding which one you want.
This article originally appeared in VG November 2013 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
Spanish flamenco guitarist Paco de Lucia died February 26 after suffering a heart attack in Cancun, Mexico. He was 66.
By age 15, Roberts’ guitar teacher, Horace Hatchett, told the boy’s dad, “Howard has his own style of playing and there’s nothing else I can show him. He plays better than I do.” Howard was already playing club dates in their hometown Phoenix area – usually blues and jazz gigs on which he would gain playing experience and develop his improvising skills. He was receiving an extensive education in the blues from a number of black musicians, one of whom was the brilliant trumpeter Art Farmer. Journalist Steve Voce, in his 1992 article in The Independent Newsletter, quoted Roberts on those nightclub gigs, “I came out of the blues. I started in that scene when I was 15 and it was the most valuable experience in the world for me.”
