An alt-rock wild man brings his Fender-fueled A-game to a new group that bears his name and a twisted solo debut packed with fat riffs, killer hooks, and freaky sounds.
Mickey Melchiondo is like a lot of Premier Guitar readers. He’s obsessed with all things guitar, loves vintage gear, and believes in the power of great rock ’n’ roll. The difference is that Mickey also goes by the name Dean Ween, is coleader of the successful band Ween, has legions of loyal fans throughout the world, and for three decades has made a career out of writing off-kilter, sometimes humorous, and undeniably catchy songs.
Maybe known best for the hit “Push th’ Little Daisies,” Ween began its journey when Melchiondo met Aaron Freeman (aka Gene Ween) in junior high school and they adopted their stage names. The two quickly combined their love for a wide variety of musical styles to create a sound that’s equal parts rock, sonic experimentation, and playful art-project weirdness. After nine studio albums, the band threw in the towel in 2012, leaving Dean Ween with some time on his hands.
At first, Dean fell into a depression, putting his guitar down completely for several years. But inspiration struck again and he found himself as busy as ever, working on material with his band the Moistboyz, building a recording studio, and recording his first solo record as the Dean Ween Group (DWG), titled The Deaner Album.
While The Deaner Album will definitely appeal to Ween fans, it’s Dean’s passion for tones and vintage gear, and his diverse playing influences, that inform the sound of the recording. “I wanted to make a record heavy on the guitar, and go out and play behind it. And I’m doing it, and it’s been awesome,” he says.
Heavy on the guitar it is. There are multiple instrumentals that showcase Dean’s love of iconic players, such as “Dickie Betts,” and a tribute to the anti-Santa, “Schwartze Pete.” There is also a tip of the hat to electric-guitar pioneer Les Paul. And when Dean does step up to the microphone on rockers like “Bundle of Joy” and “I’ll Take It (and Break It),” it’s still his raunchy and slippery guitar style that powers the tunes.
But no matter how guitar-rich The Deaner Album is, for Dean Ween, the song is still always the priority. “I think the record’s, like, half-instrumental,” he explains, “but the focus has all been on the songs, with me singing, which is a real confidence-booster.”
The sound of The Deaner Album is undeniably linked to the band Ween, which recently announced a string of reunion performances. But judging by Dean’s own musical output and history of writing great music in whatever style that’s inspiring him at the time, he has a lot more adventurous material coming, and he’s sure to keep branching out.
Your passion for writing great songs has been evident throughout your career. What led you to become a songwriter?
At first we just liked to hear ourselves on tape. We were fascinated that we could put something down and listen back to it. Anything we got down that had drums, guitar, and vocals we thought was music. Like, “It’s official, we’re a band!” [Laughs.]
We gave it a name, Ween, immediately. We were, like, 13, you know? And then I learned how to tune the guitar. Originally I would tune it all up to one chord, like a lap steel. I would play barre chords on it with my thumb. And even with those limitations, we were starting to write passable stuff. But we wanted more. When you write something that’s good, that you’re going to play for somebody, that you’re confident in as a songwriter, you can never backpedal from that. You’ve got to keep going forward. And that was what did it.
Then my dad bought me my first real guitar, which was a Squier Strat—one of the early ones. It’s a great guitar, made in Japan. He hid it, but I knew the day it entered the house. When nobody was home I would just play it all day. The body and the pickguard were all scratched when I got it on Christmas Day. They knew and they didn’t care. I never got a better gift in my entire life, before or since. And I started taking guitar lessons. And then I just had a love affair with my guitar, which lasts to this day.
What was it that initially inspired you to pick up the guitar?
Jimi Hendrix’s “Are You Experienced?” and then Van Halen’s “Atomic Punk.” I heard those two songs, which have one thing in common: the scratch on the strings at the start of both. It scared the crap out of me. I remember both incidents. I heard “Are You Experienced?” in a locker room when boom boxes were first coming around, and it stopped me dead in my tracks. It actually put me on the path with music. I was just terrified by the mystery of it. I went out and I got it, and that was all she wrote.
What inspired you to create such a guitar-focused new album after all these years?
That was the primary goal for this record. I had a million ideas over the years with Ween—concepts I wanted to do. Like, I always wanted to do a straight-up Les Paul-sounding record … the guitar player Les Paul. And there’s a song on the new album, “Schwartze Pete,” that does that. And I wanted to do a Miles Davis strung-out thing. And I’ve been pleasantly surprised to find that the thing that people have focused on most are the songs which have a lot of guitar in them.
Your instrumental tracks have a vocal sense of melody. How do you determine which songs will be instrumental and which will have singing?
This record is about half and half. I didn’t know who my audience was going to be. I wanted to focus on the guitar, but I also knew I had to sing and write songs, because without a song, you’ve got nothing. Unless you’re a master … like Jeff Beck’s Blow by Blow or something. Which is so fucking badass.
I write tons of instrumentals. I do a lot of both. But I don’t think I’m going to change much. I’m going to write songs and choose the best ones. If they got vocals on them, they got vocals on them. If they don’t—if the playing is so good or the melody is so good that it doesn’t need them—then that’s what goes on there.
What guitars did you use on the album?
I used everything. I always come back to my Strat, seems like. The studio is a lot different than live. In the studio, all bets are off. Everything is in play. Everything is possible if it serves the song well. If I want a Tele sound, I have an old ’65 Twin and a bunch of Teles. I know exactly how to make it get “that thing.” I have a huge, huge vintage pedal collection. If I hear a Fuzz Face, I grab my Fuzz Face, you know?
What are some of your favorite vintage pedals?
The Mu-Tron stuff, for sure. Mu-Tron phasers and the envelope filter. And I have an original spaghetti-logo Cry Baby. It’s Italian, from the late ’60s. And for some reason I’ve never been able to get another wah-wah to sound that good.
Did that wah make it on the album?
Oh yeah. If there’s a wah-wah, that would be it. I love tape echoes. I have an old Echoplex and a Roland Space Echo. But onstage I use the Boss RE-20 Space Echo pedal, which has a tap function. I don’t use a distortion pedal. I never have in my life. I use the amp’s natural gain. And I use my guitar’s volume knob as my gain channel. When it’s on 10, that means I’m ripping!
Through this process, and playing with a lot of different guys to make this record, I found the guys where we have the Keith and Ronnie thing going. We all have like-minded taste in gear. We use Fender amps and Fender and Gibson guitars, wah-wahs, phasers, and echoes, basically.
As guitar intensive as Ween’s solo debut is, he still puts a premium on songcraft. “Without a song, you’ve got nothing,” he says. Here, he strips his music to the essence with a Guild acoustic.
What amps do you use live?
I use a Fender Super-Sonic 100, and I use a 4x12 Fender cab. And for bar gigs I use my Fender DeVille combo. I have two or three of them. I was a Boogie guy, but after years of playing through Rectifiers and Mark IVs, I just found that it was too generic of a sound. I didn’t like the gain of it as much as I like the Fender gain. It’s more round. I’m not a gearhead, but this is a guitar magazine and this is fun to talk about!
Absolutely!
Lindy Fralin pickups changed my life. As I cut my volume for rhythm guitar, like to 3, say, Lindy Fralin pickups help the high end stay there. You know what I mean? It adjusts naturally.
I had Lindy, for my Les Paul, take a volume and tone knob out. Both pickups are on one volume knob. I don’t know why no one ever did that. I love my Les Paul, but I can’t deal with two volume knobs onstage. When I asked Lindy if that was possible, he laughed! He was like, “Dude, you’re the only person that’s ever asked me. I do it to every one of my Les Pauls.” And he hooked me up. Suddenly the Paul became a part of my rig.
Dean Ween’s Gear
Guitars and Basses
• 1960 Dakota Red Fender Stratocaster (Lace Sensor Gold pickups in the neck and middle, and a Seymour Duncan Hot Rails in the bridge)
• 1966 Fender Stratocaster (stripped finish with Seymour Duncan Antiquity pickups in the neck and middle, and a Duncan Hot Rails in the bridge)
• Fender parts Frankenstrat (with ’61 Jazzmaster neck, 1956 Road Worn body, Fender Pure Vintage ’59 pickups in neck and middle, and a Duncan Hot Rails pickup in the bridge)
• 2000 Gibson Les Paul Standard with Lindy Fralin pickups
• Fender Telecasters
• Fender Precision Bass
• Fender Jazzmaster
• Fender Musicmaster
• G&L SC-2
• Jerry Jones Master Sitar
• Alembic Further
• Martin 1969 D-28
Amps
• Fender 212 Hot Rod DeVille
• Fender Super-Sonic 100
• Fender Twin Reverb
• Fender Rumble 200 bass combo
• John Dandry Little Devil
• Mesa/Boogie Trem-O-Verb
• Mesa/Boogie Mark IV
• Music Man HD-130
• Fender 1x12 cab
• Fender 4x12 cab
• Mesa/Boogie 2x12 cab
• Mesa/Boogie 4x12 cab
Effects
• Mu-Tron Phasor
• Mu-Tron III Envelope Filter
• Roland Space Echo
• ’60s Cry Baby wah-wah
• Jimi Hendrix Signature Wah
• MXR Blue Box
• MXR Carbon Copy
• MXR Phase 90
• Electro-Harmonix Micro Synth
• DigiTech Whammy V
• Rocktron Banshee Talk Box
• Boss TU-3 tuner
Strings
• D’Addario EXL110 (.010–.046)
Does Fralin custom-wind the pickups for you?
Yeah. They’re expensive, but they’re worth every penny. And I would have it no other way. I don’t want free shit from someone that’s a master. He really stands behind his shit. And you hear it. Anyone that picks up my guitar goes, “Dude, I love this thing!”
How are your newer guitar-forward tunes translating to your live shows?
It’s the biggest rush in the world, man. Totally. I mean my chops have never been better than they are right now. I’ve been playing for about two years, every day and every night. I’m either rehearsing, recording, or gigging. And you know when you get to that point, you don’t want to let it go at all. You don’t want that shit to get dull.
It’s very important to not put the guitar down for too long. It’s important to put it down for a little while, if it’s a conscious decision. But to set it down for real, for a long time like I did? Well, I’ll never do that again.
I used to be real sensitive to how a guitar was set up. Now it doesn’t even matter. I’ve played so many guitars, I have so many guitars here, and I switch them up on the road to make myself play differently sometimes. Like one night, or just before a tour, I’ll say, “Bring the Paul out,” or “Grab the Strat and the Teles.”
What was it like making the adjustment from doing your thing in Ween to being the frontman in the Dean Ween Group?
It was hard, but you know, you get confident. Playing against a push-pull thing with your vocals and your guitar ... I’m getting better at it.
The best thing about that with the Dean Ween Group is that I have my whole band sing, and we really work on it. Even with the Ween stuff, it’s great. We’re covering a lot more parts that Aaron sang on the records. Since the DWG got together, I’ve noticed that it’s helped Ween immensely, with Dave Dreiwitz [bass], Glenn McClelland [keys], and Claude Coleman [drums] all on the mic. [Editor’s note: All three also perform with Ween.] And we sound good. I never thought I would say that. My voice hasn’t sounded good since I was 13 in high school chorus.
Did that fall together naturally or was it something you focused on?
Both. We worked on it at rehearsal and onstage. But we’re still getting better. I learned a million little tricks on the guitar, but you can really work a microphone, you know? There are masters of it: Frank Sinatra, Marvin Gaye. You get a little further back and sing something from your throat. You can sing something from your belly, and when you scream “yeah,” it should be from your toes, you know?
Do you prefer the creativity of working in your studio or the energy of a live show?
There used to be no contest. All I wanted to do is make records. I thought Ween was going to be anonymous from the start. And then when we got signed, we went on tour and found that we were a really good live band. Over the years I found that it takes a crowd to get me to the next level. We can jam here in the rehearsal room, but put me in a room full of people and I'll elevate my game. So I love them both, but it’s like choosing a favorite kid to me.
You recently built your own recording studio. What influence did that have on The Deaner Album?
Well, I started this record, like, four years ago. I brought my other band, the Moistboyz, from Austin to work on our fifth album and the Dean Ween Group record at the same time. And it was a very bad plan. There was no focus. It was like, “Whoa! What song goes on which record?” They all sounded like the Moistboyz, because we’re cowriting together.
So I put my record on the back burner and put my best foot forward for the Moistboyz. When that was done and the dust settled, I got an opportunity to build a studio in my home town. Then it was time to get serious about my record. I had a few tunes, but coming in here was basically a restart, so the studio really inspired the record, I would say.
I ended up with my dream studio. I own it. We built it from the ground up—every nail, every stud, with all the considerations you’d want. Comfort, vibe, soundproofing, big live room … you know? A beautiful control room, a kitchen, lounge, big flat-screen TVs, Pro Tools, an API console, and a tape machine—everything that I ever would want. The live room has a full PA and side fills for rehearsal. And it’s all miked up so we can record it through the API to have a studio-sounding album.
Coming into The Deaner Album, you spoke about finding a new creative place where you were really on fire.
Yeah. I still got it going, man. I’ve been writing on the road, which I never have done in the past. It’s like I’m usually too busy or I’m just not in that headspace. But when you are hearing melodies and you are writing riffs, you got to get that shit down. Because when you aren’t writing, you’re going to have this huge catalog of stuff to go out and start playing on tour. And that inspires you again. And then all of a sudden you’re back.
We actually already have a second record that’s better than the first one. It’s done. I can’t wait to put it out. And by the time we do get it out, hopefully I would have written more tunes.
Any idea when that album will come out?
Nah. I don’t want to muzzle the first one or beat people over the head with one right on its heels. And Ween is going. So I’m plenty busy.
Any plans for new music with Ween?
Not at the moment. That’s all I can say.
What is it about the guitar that still inspires you to pick it up today?
The fact that I don’t know anything. I would love to be able to play like Django. I’d love to be able to play like Eddie Van Halen. I mean, there’s so much out there. I’ve developed my style and my tendencies, and I have my influences, but there’s so much more to conquer. And you never know when it’s going to hit you.
Like, Willie Nelson doesn’t get nearly enough props for his guitar playing. The guitar playing is beautiful and singular. He plays a classical Martin, which is what I have. More than steel strings, that’s what I like to play. I saw him recently, and I came home and I just couldn’t wait to get my hands on mine.
You know Eddie Van Halen wishes he could play like Django. You got your thing, and that’s great and all. But you can never stop learning. And when you stop searching, then you’re fucked. You know?
YouTube It
The Dean Ween Group meets the Meat Puppets in the guitar-mad video for “The Exercise Man,” a tune stoked by Ween-esque humor and abundant hooks. The highlight comes about a minute in, when Dean, on a Telecaster, and the Puppets’ Curt Kirkwood, picking a Les Paul, trade dizzy solos as the camera zooms in on their fingers.
Originally priced at $25 and tagged for the student market, this guitar built at the Kawai factory sounds surprisingly good, but its neck is a “husky” fit.
Recently, I celebrated a birthday—and let me tell you, after 50 I just feel thankful for a shot at another day. I’m at the point in life where I wake up with injuries, like random bruises or sore joints after a good night of sleep. What the heck! As part of being over 50, I find it necessary to keep up on my vaccinations and health things, and in my recent travels, I was surprised to learn that so many people have a birthday around the same time as me. It started with various phlebotomists, doctors, and nurses. Then it continued with people at work and social media messages. I never really thought about it before, but I did some research and, in fact, more babies are born in September than in any other month! My birthday is October 6, but according to my dear mom, I was two weeks late (as usual).
And so it goes that I pondered this proliferation of Virgos and Libras, and my hypothesis came into focus. Were we all the result of our parents’ Christmas and New Year’s celebrations?! I have to say, there was a camaraderie discovered among my fellow party babies when I presented my findings to them. Now, being born in the early ’70s also had me thinking of the culture of the times. Hippie life was fading as young people started to realize they had to get a job, and alas, long hair and beards were being replaced by staid 9-to-5 gigs that could slowly suck the life out of you. So, given the cultural mores of that era, I thought that this month I should write about the Sorrento Swinger.
“Hippie life was fading as young people started to realize they had to get a job.”
Born around 1967—maybe in September—these Swingers hailed from the “crazy” design period of the Kawai Co. Kawai produced some of the coolest guitar designs from 1967 to ’69, and there were some very creative guitar designers there on the job. Kawai had poached some of the finest employees from the wreckage of the Shinko Gakki factory (Pleasant, Intermark, etc.) and through the purchase of the Teisco brand. In this era, Kawai usually used three different standard pickups and they all sound great, plus the units are always wired in series, which is just awesome.
For a 25-buck, Japan-made guitar from the ’70s, the Swinger has an elite-looking headstock—and, on this example, most of its tuners.
Now, the Swinger (and similar Kawai-made guitars) came from an era where U.S. importers would order small batches of instruments that were often unique and extremely gonzo. The guitars might have been destined for medium-sized music stores or direct-order catalogs, but whatever the case, the importer usually gave the guitars names. In this instance, it was Jack Westheimer who featured this model as an “exclusive” design. In Westheimer Corporation catalogs from the time, the Swinger carried the A-2T model name (there was another one-pickup model called the A-1) and sold wholesale for $25 in 1967! As the catalog mentioned, these were “priced for the teenaged trade.” This particular guitar featured the Sorrento badge, and was sold through some sort of music store that’s probably long out of business, but all the Swingers were the same.
The Swinger’s large mahogany neck (sans truss rod) is robust and beefy in all the nicest ways. Like, when I was a kid, I was considered a “husky” fit. That’s this neck: husky! The striped pickguard is a Teisco holdover and the controls are as simple as it gets. Two knobs (volume, tone) and two pickup selectors is all there is, but the beauty is in the body. That lower bout is shaped like some sort of 1969 lounge chair. The strap pin is totally in the wrong place, but the big bottom swoop is worth it. Yep, the Swinger was ready to bring in the dawn of the 1970s, but alas, the guitar came and went in a blink.
Dynamic and pitch control of delay textures pave roads to new compositional and playing approaches in another unusual effect from Latvia’s foremost stompbox provocateurs.
Impressive control over parameters. Coaxes new playing and compositional approaches for players in a rut. High build quality.
Interrelationships between controls will be hard to grasp for many.
$329
Gamechanger Audio Auto Delay
gamechangeraudio.com
From the outset, it must be said there are easier ways to get a delay sound than using Gamechanger’s Auto Delay. But if simple echoes were the sole objective of this pedal, I doubtGamechanger would have bothered. As you may have gleaned from a listen to the company’sBigsby Pedal,PLASMA Pedal fuzz, orLIGHT Pedal reverb, the Riga, Latvia-based company rarely takes a conventional approach to anything they design or release. But what is “conventional” from a guitarist’s point of view, may be something quite different for musicians determined to bend notions of what sound and music are, how it’s made, and by what means.
By Gamechanger standards, the digital Auto Delay (along with its stablemates the Auto Reverb and Auto Chorus) is almost straightforward in concept. It utilizes existing concepts of dynamic delay, control voltage, and modular synthesis as essential parts of its functional underpinnings—which are not exactly unusual in stompbox design. Yet the way the Auto Delay’s functions interact make it feel and sound unique. And while not every player will want to take the time to explore the sometimes complex interplay between its functions, at its best, the Auto Delay prompts unorthodox thinking about the ways touch dynamics or pitch relate to the delay colors you can create, prompting unexpected compositional vectors and a kind of extra-dimensional relationship to the fretboard.
Beat of a Different Drum
Gamechanger’s path to building such unusual sound manipulation machines might seem a curious one when you consider that founder Ilja Krumins and his fellow founders Mārtiņš Meļķis and Kristaps Kalva are rockabilly heads with tastes that include the soulful earthiness of J.J. Cale. But the more accessible side of the Gamechanger design team’s musical interests likely informs the most approachable aspects of the Auto Delay. You can use it like you would any ordinary stompbox echo and take advantage of its three very distinct voices (tape, analog, and digital), copious 2-second delay time, and rangy tone control in order to fashion many compelling delay sounds. This is, needless to say, a vast underutilization of the Auto Delay’s powers.
Routing, Rearranging, and Raging Like a Lunatic
Though you can get lost in the Auto Delay (in good ways and bad), it isn’t necessarily the headache that its patch bay, LEDs, and many switches and knobs suggest. The idea behind the patch bay is simple: Routing a cable from one of the two dynamics or pitch automation input sockets to the level, tone, repeat, or time input sockets means that a change in, say, your picking intensity (dynamics) or where you play on the fretboard (pitch) increases or reduces the value for the parameter you linked to the dynamics or pitch socket. Even if you’ve not been indoctrinated in these methods via modular synthesis, it’s not as complicated as it sounds, and trial-and-error experimentation yields intuitive understanding of these interactions quickly.
The tape, analog, or digital voice can drastically reshape the tone and response of interactions. But so will the fast, rise, and gate dynamics modes, which determine the nature of the dynamic response. Setting thresholds for the dynamic and pitch response is easy. You simply hold down the “auto” footswitch or the bypass footswitch and twist the respective knobs until you reach the desired threshold, which is indicated by the adjacent LED. Like the other functions, getting a feel for how these thresholds work within your playing style takes time. As you might guess, we’ve really only discussed the most fundamental functions here. But in addition to these, you can use alt mode to assign different values to the secondary knobs and toggle between primary and secondary knobs using the auto switch. You can also manipulate the stereo spread or control the clock via MIDI.
The Verdict
The Auto Delay is not for the faint of heart or impatient. Grasping the interrelationships between the controls takes time. In fact, understanding how those interrelationships feel and respond musically will be more challenging for some than understanding how they work conceptually— which, while not elementary, can be sussed out with a careful read of the manual. But when you do find a rhythm and flow with the Auto Delay it can be richly rewarding and even meditative.
Because it can reshape your relationship with the fretboard and your sense of touch, this is a great tool for extracting yourself from ruts, whether in technique or mood. And if you’re a musical tinkerer, the Auto Delay can provide much of the same satisfaction and sense of discovery you experience working with a synthesizer—particularly if you enjoy working in the hardware realm rather than on a computer screen. One should consider the scores here as especially subjective and on a sliding scale. The Auto Delay’s many sonic and functional idiosyncrasies will be nectar to some and poison to others. And more than most pedals, you should probably have a firsthand experience with the thing before you decide how and if it fits your musical objectives. For many restless players, though, the Auto Delay will be a deep well of musical provocation and ideas.
Gator Cases offers custom cases for Flying V and Explorer style guitars in their Traditional Deluxe Series.
Constructed from plywood with a black Tolex exterior, both cases offer protection against bumps and dings during transit.
Each case features a custom-molded interior tailored to fit the unique contours of its specific guitar. The inside is lined with thick plush padding to gently cushion the instrument, ensuring its angular body shape is supported at every point. The precise fit prevents movement during transport, reducing the risk of damage.
For added convenience, the cases include an internal storage compartment for accessories, keeping essential items stored alongside the instrument. Both cases feature chrome-plated hardware with three latches, including one that locks for added security.
In addition to the Traditional Deluxe Series cases, Gator offers a wide selection of guitar solutions, including gig bags, instrument and patch cables, molded cases, guitar stands, and pedalboards.
For more information, please visit gatorco.com.
Bassists from California’s finest Smiths tribute bands weigh-in on Andy Rourke’s most fun-to-play parts.
Listen to the Smiths, the iconic 1980s indie-rock band from Manchester, and you’ll hear Andy Rourke’s well-crafted bass lines snaking around Johnny Marr’s intricate guitar work, Mike Joyce’s energetic drumming, and singer Morrissey’s wry vocal delivery.
But playing Smiths bass lines is a different experience altogether. Grab a pick and work your way through the thoughtful phrasing, clever choices, and spirited delivery, and you’ll realize that young Mr. Rourke was an understated genius of melodic bass. In other words, these bass lines are fun.
Andy Rourke was just 18 when he joined the Smiths, and 20 when they released their self-titled 1984 debut. Over four studio albums and numerous singles, Rourke anchored the band with memorable bass melodies that weaved through Marr’s busy guitar parts. After the group broke up, he recorded as a session musician with artists like Sinead O’Connor and the Pretenders, played in several bands, and worked as a club DJ. He died of pancreatic cancer in 2023, when he was 59.
To pinpoint the Smiths songs with the most fun-to-play bass lines, I consulted the experts: bass players from five Smiths tribute bands, all from California. These folks cop Andy Rourke’s style night after night, so who better to know which lines are the most fun? Here are our panelists:
James Manning plays in Shoplifters United, based in Marin County, north of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge. He’s originally from Monmouth, Wales.
Martin “Ronky” Ronquillo plays in Los Esmiths from Calexico, California, near the southern border, as well as San Diego Smiths tribute band, Still Ill.
Mark Sharp plays in the Bay Area’s This Charming Band, as well as in tributes to the Cure, U2, and others.
Monica Hidalgo played in all-female Smiths tribute band Sheilas Take a Bow, with her sisters, Melissa and Melinda. They’re from the San Gabriel Valley, east of Los Angeles.
Joe Escalante has been in the pioneering punk rock band the Vandals since 1980, and with the L.A.-based Smiths and Morrissey tribute band Sweet and Tender Hooligans since 2004.
“Barbarism Begins at Home,” 'Meat Is Murder,' 1985
Manning: I love this line and I dread it. You’ve got to have stamina, especially if you’re playing it in regular E tuning. Tuning up to F# like Andy did makes it easier and the extra string tension adds to the twangy top end.
Ronquillo: This is one of those parts that just makes you feel like a bass player. It’s high energy, it feels good, and it’s maybe his funkiest bass line.
“Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now,” single, 1984
Sharp: With Morrissey’s lyrics, the shimmering Johnny Marr guitar parts, and Rourke’s amazing bass lines, this song is perfection. The bass parts are technically just brilliant.
Escalante: This line is fun to play but really hard. We played some events with Andy DJing, and he would ridicule me for trying to play these songs in E tuning instead of F#.
“The Queen is Dead,” 'The Queen Is Dead,' 1986
Hidalgo: This one is fun because it’s kind of funky. I would go to our drummer’s house and we would play the main riff for hours, just to make sure we were locked in.
Escalante: This is the song I warm up with, even when I'm playing with the Vandals.
“We played some events with Andy DJing, and he would ridicule me for trying to play these songs in E tuning instead of F#.” —Joe Escalante
“Cemetry Gates,” 'The Queen Is Dead,' 1986
Hidalgo: I really love this one. His bass line is very melodic, and it fits so nicely with the guitar.
Escalante: This one kind of just pops, and the lyrics are so dark but the bass line is really fun and playful.
“This Charming Man,” single, 1983
Manning: The bass is such a driving force and I love the vibe of it. Very soulful in the rhythms. There’s a part where he breaks into walking bass—it’s so unexpected.
Sharp: It’s an absolute standout track that showcases the perfect musical symmetry of Johnny Marr and Andy Rourke.
“Bigmouth Strikes Again,” 'The Queen Is Dead,' 1986
Hidalgo: It melds that tiny bit of funk with faster rock and a driving rhythm. You can hear how his influences come together.
“Still Ill,” 'The Smiths,' 1984
Ronquillo: This is a fun bass line, but it’s easy to get lost in. You’ve got to concentrate and can't really dance around, cause you gotta focus and get in the zone.
“There Is a Light That Never Goes Out,” 'The Queen Is Dead,' 1986
Hidalgo: People love this song, and it has that smooth vibe. The eighth notes are smooth and consistent.
“I Want the One I Can’t Have,” 'Meat Is Murder,' 1985
Ronquillo: This is a really fun song that’s pretty upbeat, and fast-paced. It gets you into that flow state.
“Girlfriend in a Coma,” 'Strangeways Here We Come,' 1987
Sharp: Andy’s performance highlights his different musical influences, as the reggae-flavored bass line works perfectly in the song.