
Porter has a variety of off-the-shelf and custom instruments, but he's mostly seen onstage with a Fender P bass. He also has one of the first 100 Telecaster basses produced in Fullerton, California. This photo was taken at a Runnin' Pardners show at the original Brooklyn Bowl in 2016.
Six decades ago, George Porter Jr. invented Crescent City groove music with the Meters. On his new album, Crying for Hope, he's still carrying the grease.
Every morning at 6:45, bass luminary George Porter Jr.'s late wife's dog, Ms. Vicki, tugs at him to feed her and take her out. That's early as hell for most musicians, but perfectly fine for Porter, because when Ms. Vicki is busy doing number two, Porter is busy getting into his creative zone. In 2020, Porter used that small daily window of time to craft the bass lines for the songs on Crying for Hope, his latest release with his band the Runnin' Pardners.
"While I'm waiting for her to return, I'm tinkering with the bass. I have a pretty big folder of ideas," says Porter, who recorded his sketches straight to Voice Memos using his phone's built-in mic, rather than any sort of interface. "I have that new iPhone 12, so the recording is pretty decent. We actually used the bass lines from the phone recording. Michael [Lemmler, keyboards and vocals in Runnin' Pardners] cleaned it up."
Crying For Hope
TIDBIT: Many of the tracks on Crying for Hope started as sketches Porter recorded with his iPhone, which were then cleaned up and used in the final recordings.
Crying for Hope features a mix of songs that were written in Porter's recent morning meditations and others that were written in 2017. During that earlier period, the band recorded 27 songs with guitarist Brint Anderson, who was a member of Runnin' Pardners for 25 years. Shortly after the recording, Anderson parted ways with Runnin' Pardners and Porter shelved the sessions. Those tracks were seemingly lost in the ether and only resurfaced in May 2020 via a computer foible.
"I started getting messages a few months ago saying that my hard drive was full," recalls Porter. "The computer was new so I was saying, 'It can't be full, that's a 2TB drive. It's not supposed to be full.'" In the middle of doing some detective work, Porter peeked into some folders and happened upon a gold mine of tracks. "I said, 'Oh man, some of this stuff is good. Then I contacted Michael and said, 'Man, you know, I listened to these Runnin' Pardners tracks that we did with Brint, and I think we should bring them back to the table and add Chris Adkins [current Runnin' Pardners guitarist] to the tracks.'"
"I have that new iPhone 12, so the recording is pretty decent. We actually used the bass lines from the phone recording."
The numbers "Porter 13A," "I'm Barely," "Just Start Groovin'," "You Just Got Tired," and "Too Hot Too Cold" were recorded live during the original 2017 sessions. The tracks from the 2020 session were cut separately because of the COVID-19 lockdown, but still have a remarkably live feel. "We were using FaceTime for communication between the musicians, and the sessions were actually recorded up in the cloud using Pro Tools. We would load the tracks up into the cloud and then we were able to record in our individual studios. What pleased me the most about this record is that it doesn't sound like we're all in different studios. It sounds very live. Terrence Houston [drummer] got the tracks after we had totally completed all our parts."
No matter how the tracks were cut, they all have that deep Porter pocket. For decades Porter has been considered the quintessential groove bassist. Interestingly, his first instrument was a classical guitar his mother gave him on Christmas Day as both a Christmas present and an early birthday gift (he was born on December 26). Porter took lessons for two years, working on songs like "Home on the Range" or "Red River Valley." Then one day on the way to a lesson, he came across bassist Benjamin "Poppi" Francis on Robinson Street in his native New Orleans, playing the blues with his grandfather on guitar. That moment changed everything, as Porter got hit with the bug. At a guitar recital, Porter was slated to play a "cowboy" piece but pulled a switcheroo and instead played the bluesy "St. Louis Woman." Infuriated by this, his teacher gave him the boot. This turned out to be a blessing for Porter, as he devoted his time to picking things up from local musicians who would jam all night on the street, around the corner from his home.
George Porter Jr.'s Gear
Photo by Josh Hitchens
Basses & Guitars
- Fender P Bass (1970 body with a 1973 neck)
- Fender Telecaster bass (one of the first 100 made)
- D. Lakin bass refretted by New Orleans' Strange Guitarworks
- Lakland Bob Glaub U.S. Series Custom Shop 44-64 Classic Precision (modeled after the P bass)
- Lakland Bob Glaub Skyline 44-64
- Takamine electric/acoustic guitar
- Alvarez acoustic guitar
Strings
- D'Addario (.055–.065–.085–.105)
Amps & Cabinets
- Two Aguilar Tone Hammer 700 heads
- Aguilar DB 410 cabinet
- Aguilar DB 212 cabinet
Effects
- EBS OctaBass
- EBS UniChorus Studio Edition
- EBS BassIQ Blue Label
- TC Helicon VoiceLive Play
When he was 10, Porter connected with drummer Joseph "Zigaboo" Modeliste and the pair became a fixture on the New Orleans scene. After sitting in with bluesman Earl King, Porter was introduced to vocalist/keyboardist Art Neville by guitarist Herbert Wayne, who sent Porter out as a sub for him one night. Initially, Neville was unimpressed by Porter, calling him "the worst guitar player he ever heard." Neville had sought a lead guitarist and Porter was strictly a rhythm player. Later, Porter switched to bass and Neville caught him on a gig with Irma Thomas, the "Soul Queen of New Orleans." This time, Neville liked what he heard and pegged Porter to form a band. In 1965, with guitarist Leo Nocentelli added to the mix, the Meters were born.
The Meters were among the originators of funk, but offered their own unique New Orleans twist to the sound. They played four-hour gigs for six nights a week at the Ivanhoe Club on Bourbon Street and developed a telepathic musical bond. Later, the Meters became the house band for pianist/songwriter/producer Allen Toussaint and his label, Sansu Enterprises. That glory, however, came with a price in terms of creative freedom. Toussaint dictated the music with a heavy hand, and Porter's bass lines were relegated to mimicking Toussaint's left hand.
Porter suggests the Meters could have possibly been the first jam band, and he might very well be right.
Creative license to roam was the secret to the Meters' success. Porter suggests the Meters could've possibly been the first jam band, and he might very well be right. While the songs on the Meters' albums weren't much longer than three minutes, the band took that material and transformed them into simmering, transcendental marathon shows. It's no wonder their 1969 hit "Cissy Strut," a song that was finally inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2011, is considered by many to be the ultimate jam tune. The simple opening riff has served as a catalyst for countless epic and endless improv sessions. Now, there are even videos on YouTube where Porter finally puts his foot down and teaches everyone how to actually play the opening riff correctly.
Throughout the '70s, the Meters recorded eight albums and were held in high esteem by music royalty. Paul McCartney invited them to play at his Venus and Mars release party in 1975, on the Queen Mary, in Long Beach, California, and Mick Jagger was in attendance. This led to the Meters being asked to open for the Rolling Stones for both their 1975 American and 1976 European tours. However, this opening slot was not quite the dream gig you might expect. Hardcore Stones fans typically hate any opening act, and at a 1976 gig in Europe, the Meters had stuff thrown at them. During this incident, Jagger and Keith Richards had to come out and quiet the crowd. One positive highlight about the Rolling Stones saga for Porter was that, at one show, Eric Clapton urged the Stones to do an encore, which they usually didn't do. The Stones' bassist, Bill Wyman, had already left, so Porter got to sit in.
With their emergence in 1965, the Meters simultaneously began a course that would influence the history of New Orleans' music, soul, pop, and rock 'n' roll. The Meters on Saturday Night Live in New York City in 1977. Left to right: David Batiste Sr., George Porter Jr., Zigaboo Modeliste, and Leo Nocentelli.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
In 1977, the Meters disbanded after conflicts over ownership of the band's name (although the original members reunited for sporadic events from 2000 on). Years later, after a jam session at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, the Funky Meters were formed, and that band saw Porter, Neville, drummer Russell Batiste Jr., and Brian Stoltz (who replaced Nocentelli) taking more of a funk-rock approach, with Hendrix tunes being part of the repertoire.
Porter also formed Joyride, a band that he played with through most of the 1980s, and Runnin' Pardners, in 1990. By this time, Porter had developed a massive reputation in the music world and was called to collaborate and record by the likes of Tori Amos, David Byrne, Albert King, Robert Palmer, and Patti LaBelle. Porter's iconic P bass can be heard on classic albums like Palmer's Sneakin' Sally Through the Alley (1974) and classic songs like LaBelle's "Lady Marmalade." In addition to his main bands, Porter is also a prominent figure in the jam-band scene and has played with John Scofield, Eric Krasno, and the Tedeschi Trucks Band. He and the Meters received the Grammys' Lifetime Achievement Award in 2018.
Although he started on guitar, George Porter Jr.'s shift to bass proved to be a historic decision, defining the bottom end of New Orleans groove music and shaping the character of funk bass.
Photo by Michael Weintrob, Instrumenthead.com
Even though Porter has reached immortal status in the bass world, he's still relentless in his pursuit of the musical truth. He religiously documents every performance he can. "I have a little Zoom H4n, and I record, like, 100 percent of the shows that I'm in control of. It has four inputs, so I take two channels from the desk and the two ambient mics that's on the front of the H4, and every night I record four tracks. I have three 2TB hard drives that are full, and I'm working on trying to categorize the different gigs to a 4TB drive. I'm trying to gather all the Funky Meters shows that I have, all of the Runnin' Pardners shows that I have, all of the Porter trio shows that I have, and all the jam bands that I played in, and I'm putting them in. I've got that drive divided into four pieces."
Porter's archive is a constant source of study for him. "When I get off the gig and something happened that night, more than likely the next morning that gig is on the computer behind me, and I'm finding what that thing was." And if something really magical occurred, Porter might not even wait until the sun rises. "Before my wife [Aralean] passed away, I actually used to come home from the gig and sit down in the driveway and listen to the last set in the car. I usually would get to the house about 2:30 a.m. and I would sit out there for 45 minutes and, you know, usually my wife might call up and say, 'Hey, the music's too loud!'"
George Porter & The Runnin' Pardners "Cryin' For Hope" 4.16.21 Suwannee Surprise
"Crying for Hope," the title track of George Porter Jr.'s latest release, explores themes of social justice. The song started from some noodling Porter recorded on an acoustic bass into his iPhone during the morning as his late wife's dog, Ms. Vicki, took care of her business. The tune started off as an instrumental, but after the George Floyd incident, Porter says he was compelled to "cry for hope." Here, the bassist and his krewe perform it at an outdoor venue near Live Oak, Florida.
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On our season two finale, the country legend details his lead-guitar tricks on one of his biggest hits.
Get out the Kleenex, hankies, or whatever you use to wipe away your tears: It’s the last episode of this season of Shred With Shifty, a media event more consequential and profound than the finales of White Lotus and Severance combined. But there’ll be some tears of joy, too, because on this season two closer, Chris Shiflett talks with one of country music’s greatest players: Vince Gill.
Gill’s illustrious solo career speaks for itself, and he’s played with everyone from Reba McEntire and Patty Loveless to Ricky Skaggs and Dolly Parton. He even replaced Glenn Frey in the Eagles after Frey’s death in 2017. His singing prowess is matched by his grace and precision on the fretboard, skills which are on display on the melodic solo for “One More Last Chance.” He used the same blackguard 1953 Fender Telecaster that you see in this interview to record the lead, although he might not play the solo the exact way he did back in 1992.
Tune in to learn how Gill dialed his clean tone with a tip from Roy Nichols, why he loves early blackguard Telecasters and doesn’t love shredders, and why you never want to be the best player during a studio session.
If you’re able to help, here are some charities aimed at assisting musicians affected by the fires in L.A:
https://guitarcenterfoundation.org
https://www.cciarts.org/relief.html
https://www.musiciansfoundation.org
https://fireaidla.org
https://www.musicares.org
https://www.sweetrelief.org
Credits
Producer: Jason Shadrick
Executive Producers: Brady Sadler and Jake Brennan for Double Elvis
Engineering Support by Matt Tahaney and Matt Beaudion
Video Editor: Addison Sauvan
Graphic Design: Megan Pralle
Special thanks to Chris Peterson, Greg Nacron, and the entire Volume.com crew.
$149
Marshall 1959 Super Lead
The very definition of classic, vintage Marshall sound in a highly affordable package.
There’s only one relevant question about Marshall’s new 1959 Super Lead overdrive/distortion pedal: Does it sound like an actual vintage Super Lead head? The answer is, simply and surprisingly, yes. The significant difference I heard within the voice of this stomp, which I ran through a Carr Vincent and a StewMac Valve Factory 18 kit amp for contrast, is that it’s a lot quieter than my 1972 Super Lead.
The Super Lead, which bore Marshall’s 1959 model number, debuted in 1965 and was the amp that defined the plexi sound. That sound is here in spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts. Like the Super Lead, the pedal is easy to use. The original’s 3-band EQ is replaced by a single, rangeful tone control. The normal dial and the volume, which together mimic the character created by jumping the first and second channels of a plexi head, offer smooth, rich, buttery op-amp driven gain and loudness. And the high-treble dial functions much like the presence control on the original amp.
The pedal is sturdy and handsome, too. A heavy-duty metal enclosure evokes the classic black-with-gold-plate plexi look and a vintage-grille-cloth motif. Switches and knobs (the latter with rubber sides for slip-free turning) are ultra solid, and—refreshingly—there’s a 9V battery option in addition to a barrel-pin connection. Whether with single-coils or humbuckers, getting beefy, sustained, historic tones took moments. I especially delighted in approximating my favorite Super Lead head setting by flooring the high treble, normal, and tone dials, and turning back the tone pots on my Flying V, evoking Disraeli Gears-era Clapton tone. That alone, to me, makes the 1959 Super Lead stomp a bargain at $149.The Miku was introduced about 10 years ago and is based on the vocal stylings of Hatsune Miku, a virtual pop icon. But it does much more than artificial vowels and high-pitched words.
It’s tempting to think of this pedal as a joke. Don’t.
It all started a few years ago through a trade with a friend. I just wanted to help him out—he really wanted to get a fuzz pedal but didn’t have enough cash, so he offered up the Korg Miku. I had no idea then, but it turned out to be the best trade I’ve ever made.
Here’s the truth: the Korg Miku is not your typical guitar pedal. It won’t boost your mids, sculpt your gain, or serve up that warm, buttery overdrive you’ve always worshipped. Nope. This little box does something entirely different: It sings! Yes, sings in a Japanese kawaii accent that’s based on the signature voice of virtual pop icon Hatsune Miku.
At first glance, it’s tempting to dismiss this pedal as just a gimmick—a joke, a collector’s oddity, the kind of thing you buy for fun and then forget next to your Hello Kitty Strat. But here’s the twist: Some take it seriously and I’m one of those people.
I play in a punk band called Cakrux, and lately I’ve been working with a member of a Japanese idol-style girl group—yeah, it’s exactly the kind of wild mashup you’d ever imagine. Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, the Miku found its way into my setup, and weirdly enough, it stuck. It’s quirky, beautiful, occasionally maddening, and somehow … just right. After plenty of time spent in rehearsals, studio takes, and more sonic experiments than I care to admit, I’ve come to appreciate this pedal in unexpected ways. So here are a few things you probably didn’t know about this delightfully strange little box.
It’s Not Organic—and That’s OK
Most guitar pedals are chasing something real. Wah pedals mimic the human voice—or even a trumpet. Tube Screamers? They’re built to recreate the warm push of an overdriven tube amp. Cab sims aim to replicate the tone of real-world speaker setups. But the Miku? It breaks the mold. Instead of emulating reality, it channels the voice of a fictional pop icon. Hatsune Miku isn’t a person—she’s a vocaloid, a fully digital creation made of samples and synthesis. The Miku doesn’t try to sound organic, it tries to sound like her. In that sense, it might be the only pedal trying to reproduce something that never existed in the physical world. And honestly, there’s something oddly poetic about that.
A World-Class Buffer
Here’s a fun fact: I once saw a big-name Indonesian session guitarist—you know, the kind who plays in sold-out arenas—with a Miku pedal on his board. I was like, “No way this guy’s busting out vocaloid lines mid-solo.” Plot twist: He only uses it for the buffer. Yep, the man swears by it and says it’s the best-sounding buffer he’s ever plugged into. I laughed … until I tried it. And honestly? He’s not wrong. Even if you never hear Miku sing a note, this pedal still deserves a spot on your board. Just for the tone mojo alone. Wild, right?
“The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn’t work for your music, but somehow, it just does.”
Impossible to Tame
Most pedals are built to make your life easier. The Miku? Not so much. This thing demands patience—and maybe a little spiritual surrender. First off, the tracking can be finicky, especially if you’re using low-output pickups. Latency becomes really noticeable and your picking dynamics suddenly matter a lot more. Then there’s the golden rule I learned the hard way. Never—ever—put anything before the Miku. No fuzz, no wah, no compressor, not even a buffer! It gets confused instantly and says “What is going on here?” And don’t even think about punching in while recording. The vocal results are so unpredictable, you’ll never get the same sound twice. Mess up halfway? You’re starting from scratch. Same setup, same take, same chaotic energy. It’s like trying to recreate a fever dream. Good luck with that.
Full Range = Full Power
Sure, it’s made for guitar, but the Miku really comes to life when you run it through a keyboard amp, bass cab, or even a full-range speaker. Why? Because her voice covers way more frequency range than a regular guitar speaker can handle. Plug it into a PA system or a bass rig, and everything sounds clearer, richer, way more expressive. It’s like letting Hatsune Miku out of her cage.
The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn't work for your music, but somehow, it just does. Is it the best pedal out there? Nah. Is it practical? Not by a long shot. But every time I plug it in, I can’t help but smile. It’s unpredictable, a little wild, and it feels like you’re jamming in the middle of a bizarre Isekai anime scene. And honestly, that’s what makes it fun.
This thing used to go for less than $100. Now? It’s fetching many times that. Is it worth the price? That’s up to you. But for me, the Korg Miku isn’t just another pedal—it’s a strange, delightful journey I’m glad I didn’t skip. No regrets here.
Two guitars, two amps, and two people is all it takes to bring the noise.
The day before they played the coveted Blue Room at Third Man Records in Nashville, the Washington, D.C.-based garage-punk duo Teen Mortgage released their debut record, Devil Ultrasonic Dream. Not a bad couple of days for a young band.
PG’s Chris Kies caught up with guitarist and vocalist James Guile at the Blue Room to find out how he builds the band’s bombastic guitar attack.
Brought to you by D’Addario.
Devilish Dunable
Guile has been known to use Telecasters and Gretsches in the past, but this time out he’s sticking with this Dunable Cyclops DE, courtesy of Gwarsenio Hall—aka Jordan Olds of metal-themed comedy talk show Two Minutes to Late Night. Guile digs the Dunable’s lightness on his shoulders, and its balance of high and low frequencies.
Storm Warning
What does Guile like about this Squier Cyclone? Simple: its color. This one is also nice and easy on the back, and Guile picked it up from Atomic Music in Beltsville, Maryland.
Crushing It
Guile also scooped this Music Man 410-HD from Atomic, which he got just for this tour for a pretty sweet deal. It runs alongside an Orange Crush Bass 100 to rumble out the low end.
James Guile’s Pedalboard
The Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and Hiwatt Filter Fuzz MkII run to the Orange, while everything else—a DigiTech Whammy, Pro Co Lil’ RAT, and Death by Audio Echo Dream 2—runs to the Music Man. A TC Helicon Mic Mechanic is on board for vocal assistance, and a TC Electronic PolyTune 3, Morley ABY, and Voodoo Labs Pedal Power 3 Plus keep the ship afloat.