
Dave Alvin enjoys the “magic” of playing guitar with his trusty 1964 Fender Stratocaster. Much of that wear was put on by Alvin, with the help of flying beer bottles. When the fretboard was nearly worn out, Alvin’s friend Drac Conley built him the replica that he takes on tour today.
The guitarist and songwriter came up in Southern California’s fertile music scene to play in the Blasters and X, and grow a brilliant solo career as a Strat-slinging storyteller. Today, he’s an American-music legend.
Is Dave Alvin a guitarist or a medium? Listening to him play live, it’s hard to decide. Sure, there’s a custom copy of his beloved ’64 Strat in his hands, pumping loud and salty through an ’80s, Paul Rivera-made Fender Concert. But, rather than simply playing, he seems to be channeling every foundational 6-stringer from the 1940s through the 1960s.
As Alvin revisits songs from his catalog with the Blasters, or his two recent albums with his brother, Phil, or from his brief stint with the band X, or his own deep discography of nearly 20 albums, ghosts are audible in his aggressive thumbpicking. Amidst the cascading melodies, pointed accents, and transcendent dialog of his solos are flashes of everyone from Carl Hogan to Pete Cosey. Alvin explains it this way: “My playing is a combination of Sun Records, Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson, Chess Records, T-Bone Walker, and that kid with his first guitar in the garage. I try to approach it like that, because, to me, guitar is a magical thing.”
“My earliest memories are of sitting in my Mom’s Studebaker and spinning the dial. Southern California was wide open, musically.”
There’s more to Alvin’s magic than his ability to draw on history or haints to shape a style that shakes every centigram of meaning from each note. He’s also a profoundly good songwriter, in the North American tradition that extends from Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, and Jack Elliott to the original cowboy poets clustered around their campfires with guitars. Alvin’s songs evoke the open expanse of the old frontier and its modern landscape, as well as the heat and diesel of factory towns and the working-class people who occupy them. Just scrape the surface of the 67-year-old’s catalog—his recent releases, the compilation From an Old Guitar: Rare and Unreleased Tracks and the reissue Eleven Eleven, are a good place to start—and the American spirit resonates through what you’ll find. Over the decades he has written about the deaths of Hank Williams (the Blasters’ “Long White Cadillac”) and Johnny Ace (“Johnny Ace Is Dead”), the pain of love’s irrevocable loss (“Harlan County Line”), the wilds of the gold rush (“King of California”), the gilded age of labor unions (“Gary Indiana 1959”), life on the margins (“Thirty Dollar Room”), and the quiet desperation of hearts fading cold, in X’s most poignant song, “4th of July.”
Dave Alvin - Murrietta's Head
“The first songs that struck me when I was a kid were all stories,” Alvin explains. “‘El Paso’ by Marty Robbins, a lot of the Coasters’ records, Elvis, of course, and Carl Perkins’ ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’ There was a plethora of story songs in the ’50s, in a variety of genres. Whether it’s ‘Saginaw, Michigan’ by Lefty Frizzell or ‘No Particular Place to Go’ or ‘You Can’t Catch Me’ by Chuck Berry. What attracted me to story songs is you can say a lot of stuff, without hitting people over the head. You don’t have to go, ‘I’m against this’ or ‘I’m for this,’ because then you become a one-dimensional songwriter. In a story, you kind of slip it into people subconsciously. It’s a little sneaky, but, since Aesop’s Fables, telling stories makes sense of the world. If you go back and listen to all the great folk songs—I mean real folk songs, like ‘Black Jack David’ and ‘Shenandoah’ … themes that have been around for centuries—they’re telling stories.”
Alvin ascribes his songwriting prowess to “trial and error. When I first started writing songs, I had to—unlike the average singer-songwriter—sell them to the Blasters, and they were very strict, because for them doing original material, like ‘Marie Marie’ and ‘Border Radio,’ was outside of their comfort zone. Bringing in original work was scary. My brother, Phil, and I would have big arguments over chord progressions. We had a couple of fisticuffs over minor chords, and so I’m reticent to this day about bringing in new songs. I still expect the Blasters’ reaction.”
The Alvin brothers grew up in Downey, California, just south of Los Angeles. “Nineteen-fifties Downey was different than ’60s Downey,” Alvin relates. “In the ’50s, before the freeways and all had taken over everything, it was semi-rural. There were a lot of orange groves and people were riding horses. There were areas around the San Diego River that were literally wild. And there was AM radio, which, of course, continued into the ’60s. My earliest memories are of sitting in my Mom’s Studebaker and spinning the dial. Southern California was wide open, musically. Whether it was on the radio, or on TV, or in the local restaurants, or lounges, or bars, you could hear everything from Western swing to rhythm and blues to rock ’n’ roll. There was a lot of surf music, and I don’t mean the Beach Boys variety. I mean the Fender Jaguar, a Fender Strat, a Fender Mustang, a Fender P bass, and a drummer kind of surf music—no vocals. I have really pleasant memories of waking up on Saturday mornings and hearing two or three surf bands in the neighborhood, all rehearsing in their garages.”
A close-up view of Alvin’s ’64 Strat. Although the guitar has a vibrato bridge, Alvin, who plays hard, prefers to eschew it onstage.
Photo by Chip Duden Photography
But Dave and Phil also pursued another important path to musical enlightenment. “The story goes that if you were Black in Mississippi, you went north, and if you were Black in Louisiana or Texas, you went west,” Alvin explains, “because there were so many aerospace jobs and a slightly ... slightly … less segregated vibe out here. My brother Phil and I were little record collectors, collecting 78s and 45s, so we loved blues records, and we figured out that not only were some of these people still alive, but they were playing a mile away. If you didn’t act like an idiot, you could maybe sneak into a bar and see ’em, and that’s what we started doing.”
“I was learning; it was rudimentary, but it was good stuff: Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins, Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson. Put those together and it worked.”
With a neighborhood full of bands and a head full of blues, R&B, and primal rock, the Alvins formed a series of groups. Or, at least initially, Phil, who is two years older than Dave, did. Most of these bands played primarily in the garage, and eventually Dave was allowed to join on sax and flute—although he was also coming up on guitar. One night, he got his lucky break. Phil’s band was booked to play a wedding and needed another guitarist. Dave was called in. “I had an early evening gig, playing at a mental hospital in Long Beach with my own little noisy band,” he recounts. “After we were done, I packed up the Twin and the Les Paul knockoff I had borrowed, and I drove to this wedding reception, and the people loved it. Bill Bateman was playing drums, and that was the first gig of what became the Blasters.”
Inspired by his blues heroes, Alvin uses a thumbpick much like most plectrum-employing guitarists tend to use a flatpick. It’s one of the reasons for his pointed attack and ultra-responsive tone.
Photo by Chip Duden Photography
The Blasters were a sweat-soaked speedball who roared onto the L.A. punk turf in ’79 alongside X, the Germs, Black Flag, Fear, the Circle Jerks, and pretty much every other outfit in Penelope Spheeris’ documentary The Decline of Western Civilization. With their dirty roots in gut-bucket American music, perhaps they were most akin to the Delta-blues-inspired Gun Club, who were also on the scene. But they had muscle and crunch and focus that made them unique. Roughly a year into their tenure, after befriending blues legends like Big Joe Turner, Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee, and T-Bone Walker, they added one to their band: tenor saxist Lee Allen, who was a key figure in the development of rock ’n’ roll in the ’50s as part of New Orleans’ studio community.
With Phil as vocalist and Dave as songwriter and spark plug, the Blasters played hard and constantly. “What happened onstage was, my brother and I had developed two totally different types of guitar playing,” says Alvin. “His was based on fingerpicking but also he wasn’t a single-string guy. He could do it, but it wasn’t his deal, where it was mine. Because I was learning; it was rudimentary, but it was good stuff: Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins, Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson. Put those together and it worked. Even my brother had to admit it. He was like, ‘We got something here.’ Our friend, the late blues harmonica player James Harman, knew that I needed a guitar if we were gonna have this band. In a Santa Ana, California, pawnshop, he bought a ’64 Fender Mustang for me, for, like, $70. That would have been around March of ’79.”
When the Blasters made their first album, 1980’s American Music, “James had a white ’61 Strat that he swore belonged to Magic Sam, so that’s what I played on that record. And then on the first album we did for Slash Records, the one with the sweaty face on it [1981’s The Blasters], James brought me a ’56 Les Paul goldtop. The Mustang didn’t really appear on records until the second Slash album, Non Fiction.” And for ’85’s Hard Line, Alvin played a ’51 Broadcaster owned by the band’s guitar tech, who went by Tornado. “I was a fry cook,” Alvin notes. “I didn’t have money for fancy guitars and amps, and, if I did, I wouldn’t have known what to buy.”
The classic ’80s Blasters lineup, from left to right: drummer Bill Bateman, pianist Gene Taylor, Phil Alvin, bassist John Bazz, Dave Alvin with his ’64 Strat, and the legendary saxist Lee Allen.
Photo courtesy of Dave Alvin
That Mustang, currently on display at Nashville’s Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, became a stage favorite. “It was light and very good at deflecting beer bottles,” Alvin says. “If you look closely at that guitar, you’ll see where there is a slash across the upper cutaway. That is from a beer bottle at the Cuckoo's Nest [in Costa Mesa], when we were opening for the Cramps in, like, January/February 1980. Blammo! And if you look closely at the paint job, you’ll see glass embedded all over that guitar, from me holding it up going, ‘Not gonna get this guy, pal.’”
“I didn’t have money for fancy guitars and amps, and, if I did, I wouldn’t have known what to buy.”
Seeking a less combative home for his songs, Alvin left the Blasters in 1986—although he’s played reunion shows and tours with the band since, and recorded two duo albums with his brother. The next few years were busy as he shifted toward building his own outfit. He replaced guitarist Billy Zoom in X, and contributed “4th of July” to X’s 1987 album, See How We Are. Alvin had started his musical association with John Doe and Exene Cervenka from X in 1985, when he joined them in folkie spinoff the Knitters for the album Poor Little Critter on the Road, and he pitched in again for the follow-up, The Modern Sounds of the Knitters, 20 years later. In ’87, he also released his first solo album, Romeo’s Escape, which added new compositions to reprised versions of the Blasters’ “Jubilee Train,” “Long White Cadillac” (which Dwight Yoakam also cut), and “Border Radio,” and allowed Alvin to begin his journey as a vocalist.
Thirty-six years and 14 studio albums later, he has a singing voice like polished oak, with the warm tone and wise phrasing of a seasoned barroom confidant, intent on getting every nuance of his stories across. He also has a Grammy, for his 2000 album Public Domain: Songs from the Wild Land, and two more nominations, and starting in 1995 began publishing his writings: two collections of poems and lyrics, and last year’s New Highways: Selected Lyrics, Poems, Prose, Essays, Eulogies, and Blues, which covers all those categories as well as poignant autobiographical tales.
Dave Alvin’s Gear
The Blasters were known for their sweat-soaked, high-energy performances. Here, Alvin’s playing through a Fender Super Reverb, before his switch to a Rivera-built Concert.
Photo courtesy of Dave Alvin
Guitars
- 1964 Fender Stratocaster (studio only)
- Replica of his ’64 Strat built by Drac Conley (live)
Amps
- Rivera-built Fender Concert (live)
- Fender Vibroverb reissue (recording)
Effects
- TC Electronic Hall of Fame Reverb
- Boss BD-2 Blues Driver (modded)
Strings and Picks
- D’Addario EHR350s (.012–.052)
- Thumbpick
For many of those years, Alvin’s 6-string companion was an ivory 1964 Stratocaster he’d purchased in the early ’80s. “I needed a great all-around guitar,” he says. “It took me a while to get over my gun-shyness about taking it out on tour and all that. But once I got used to it, our relationship together deepened. I started figuring out what it was capable of doing, and what I was capable of doing. But it eventually got to where the rosewood on the fretboard was just a veneer, so one of my dear friends, Drac Conley, built me an exact copy. Because I knew my Strat had to be retired from the road. I hate to say it’s even better, but it’s capable of more stuff.”
These days, Alvin’s clean tone, with just the right amount of crunchy breakup and crisp, punchy attack, is a signature committed roots music fans immediately recognize. That attack is mostly the result of his furious thumbpicking. “When I was a kid going to see certain players at the Ash Grove [a now-gone L.A. club that focused on songwriters], when I was trying to figure out this magical thing called guitar playing, I would see Reverend Gary Davis—one night on a double bill with Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson, and they were both playing blues-based music from an entirely different direction, and they were both thumbpick players. And then Brownie McGhee would use a thumbpick. I’d see people like that and wonder ‘what is that?’
“My brother played with no picks, but my thumbs were too sensitive to pull that off. Then, I had this other problem: I was clumsy with a flatpick. I can hold a flatpick and strum, but to do anything else? So, when I really started trying to be a serious guitar player, I gave up on flatpicks,—‘Get rid of this shit’—and the thumbpick came absolutely naturally to me. And so, what I’ve done for years is, I use a thumbpick and on my index finger I have an acrylic nail. Not one of the press-on ones. It’s one I’ve built up with whatever vile stuff they use. And because of the strength of the index fingernail, I could really make use of what the guitar can do. If I really want to play an aggressive solo, I will hold the flat side of the thumbpick with my index finger, as if it’s a flatpick, and bend the notes doing that, so it gets extra push. If it’s a quieter song, I’ll use the index finger only to play single-string solos. Or I will play chords with only the index finger or use the skin of the middle finger to strum if I’m doing a tender ballad.”
The Blasters back up the great blues shouter Big Joe Turner in 1983 at Club Lingerie, a Sunset Strip venue that was an essential part of the L.A. punk and alternative rock scene. The room closed in 1995.
Photo courtesy of Dave Alvin
His only pedals are a TC Electronic Hall of Fame Reverb and a Boss BD-2 Blues Driver. “Once I start singing, I don’t want to have to worry about what my feet are doing,” he says. “I can take my pinky and slide up the guitar volume, or move the pickup selector to get different tones, but when I’m on stage it’s so exciting that I can’t bother with pedals.”
His other ace is volume. Alvin opens up his amp so its full voice can be heard, and he can achieve sustain, feedback, ringing overtones, and distortion organically. “In one of my road cases, there’s a sign that I made, apologizing for the volume and the damage, but if you’re gonna sit there,” he says, chuckling, “you’re asking for it.”
In 2020, Alvin opened up another new vista, by revisiting a different kind of old music: psychedelia. Working as the Third Mind, Alvin and cohorts Victor Krummenacher, Michael Jerome, and David Immerglück tore a page from the paisley textbook and covered songs by the Butterfield Blues Band (“East-West”), Alice Coltrane (“Journey in Satchindananda”), the 13th Floor Elevators (“Reverberation”), and other twisted troopers. It’s elegant and visceral, and was likely a surprise to many of Alvin’s longtime fans, but Hendrix is also part of his DNA, even if he found it unapproachable until now.
“In one of my road cases, there’s a sign that I made, apologizing for the volume and the damage, but if you’re gonna sit there, you’re asking for it.”
“I’m a barroom guitar basher, but I thought, ‘Let's go down the rabbit hole,’” Alvin says. “When I was around 12, I saw Jimi Hendrix twice, and about a year and a half later, I saw Big Joe Turner and T-Bone Walker with the Johnny Otis Orchestra, and those were the nights! With The Third Mind, I’m less Jimi imitator than using techniques he and Michael Bloomfield used, like manipulating the pickup selector and leaning into the volume.”
That same year, he was almost permanently sidelined by colorectal cancer. He’d spent nearly 12 months on the road and was feeling exhausted. “I was thinking, ‘Maybe I just can’t do this anymore,’” until his diagnosis cleared up the mystery. The cancer had migrated to his liver as well.
Dave Alvin & The Guilty Ones "Harlan County Line"
Dave Alvin leads his band through “Harlan County Line,” the opening track on his Eleven Eleven album—rife with his deft thumbpicking and snappy, biting, clear tone.
“It was extremely difficult,” Alvin allows. “The chemotherapy caused this terrible neuropathy in my feet that still hasn’t gotten better, and they kept saying ‘Well, it’ll take about another year,’ but my hands.… I could not play guitar for about seven months. It was too painful. Touching the guitar was razor blades because my hands were swollen. I won’t say that I had to completely relearn how to play guitar, but I honestly had to teach myself how to play guitar again. The synapses weren’t firing correctly for a long time—between the fingertips and the brain. So, it meant playing a lot of scales, which I still do now. And the scales really helped the neuropathy in my hands, which are no longer swollen. I’m able to play shows. I’m about 90 percent where I was before the chemotherapy.
“It’s not like I’ve ever said, even when I wasn’t sick, ‘I don’t need the practice, I’m pretty good, I can outplay that guy,’” he continues. “I’ve had my ass handed to me by so many guitar players over the years that I’m still just.… Well, by the time I kick the bucket, I would like to say I don’t suck. I wanna be the best as I can be on guitar.
“The one thing I will say is that I’m very lucky, in that I’ve had fans that have stuck with me through a lot of changes. But all of my changes have been organic. I’ve stuck to my guns, taking, basically, the same idea we had when we started the Blasters to the extreme: 'Let’s see how long we can do this and not work a day job.'”
- Ear to the Ground: Dave & Phil Alvin’s “All By Myself” ›
- 17 Guitar & Bass Heroes Hail Their Heroes ›
- 1967 Gibson ES-335, Burgundy Metallic ›
Squier Affinity Starcaster Deluxe
Two extra-affordable versions of quirky instruments from Fender’s late-1960s-to-mid-1970s period deliver unexpected—and out-of-the-ordinary—playing pleasures.
High style on the cheap. Excellent construction for this price class. Nice feel under the fingers.
Pickups can sound brash.
$349
Squier Affinity Starcaster Deluxe
fender.com
The years 1969 and 1976—which bookend the releases of the original Telecaster Thinline and Starcaster—mark a strange period for Fender. They don’t signal a lost era as pre-CBS purists might insist. But there’s no doubt Fender was firing more wildly at an increasing number of moving targets—from shifting musical sands to improving import competition.
But if the very late 1960s and early/mid 1970s didn’t yield design icons on the order of the Stratocaster or Telecaster, they were a creative time for Fullerton. Few models represent that spirit—and Fender’s fluid state—quite as well as the Telecaster Thinline and Starcaster. The first was an evolution of Fender’s first solidbody executed by Roger Rossmeisl, the visionary designer behind the Rickenbacker 330 and Fender Coronado. The second was an altogether new design that, in quintessentially ’70s Fender style, managed the unlikely (some might say unholy) marriage of Jazzmaster and Gibson ES-335.
But as the ultra-affordable Squier incarnations of the Telecaster Thinline and Starcaster reviewed here prove, the folks at Fender of the late ’60s and early ’70s are entitled to a hearty last laugh: These designs are timeless and appealing enough to be around half a century later. And even in these inexpensive versions they offer genuinely interesting, stylish, and highly playable alternatives to other instruments in their price class.
Squier Affinity Starcaster Deluxe
Though collectors would have ultimately pounced on the semi-hollow Starcaster for its rarity (they were made for only four years), Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood elevated the profile of the instrument when it was far from fashionable. More recently, blink-182’s Tom DeLonge, who now has a stripped-down signature Fender version, did much to popularize the shape. The Affinity Starcaster Deluxe is closer to DeLonge’s signature guitar, in both form and function, than Greenwood’s vintage specimen or, for that matter, Fender’s import reissue from the 2010s, or Squier’s own Classic Vibe version. Most critically, the Affinity version uses a standard humbucker with the shape and construction of a PAF rather than the Fender Wide Range, as well as a streamlined control array.
Casting Skyward
The Squier humbucker is more compressed, midrange-y, and less airy than both a Fender Wide Range pickup and the humbuckers in a contemporary Epiphone 335s—guitars which are at least $200 more than the Affinity Starcaster (not coincidentally, perhaps, in the ballpark of what a pretty nice set of PAF replacements would cost). But it’s worth spending time with the Squier humbuckers before you think about an upgrade. They are charming in their own right. By itself, the bridge pickup can be a little brash, particularly if you use a heavy touch with a pick. Lighter attack and amp tone attenuation goes a long way toward taming its more spiky tendencies, enhancing touch responsiveness, and getting glassy tones to sing a bit more. The neck pickup needs a very different treatment. I needed to bump the treble on an already bright AC15-like amp to extract the kind of tone spectrum you’d expect from a PAF, though it was quite round and chimey once I got it there. Cool sounds are here, you just may have to work for them a bit. The combined pickup setting is the sweetest sounding of the three. It also generates the sounds that communicate the most semi-hollow resonance and personality. All three settings would benefit from rangier pots. They have a pretty steep curve and limited useful range. Rolling the volume back just a few clicks, for instance, results in a fair bit of treble loss, and there’s not much variation to play with once you move through the first third of the control’s range.
Get Yer Head Straight
Curiously, Fender opted for a Stratocaster-style headstock rather than the less-ornate version of the original Starcaster headstock profile used on the standard Affinity Starcaster. While it looks sharp and balanced, it’s hard not to miss the unusual headstock shape that helped make the original Starcaster so completely different. None of this, of course, has any bearing on the Starcaster’s playability, which is really nice. The jumbo frets make active, expressive finger vibrato moves feel natural, which is nice given how the pickups and semi-hollow tones encourage you to linger on notes and use bluesy bends and phrasings.
The Verdict
One of the Indonesia-built Affinity Starcaster Deluxe’s nicest surprises is the overall quality of the construction. The neck joint is tight, the fretwork is free of sharp ends, and the finish is pretty. The pickups could be a little airier, and the smaller PAF routs probably preclude installation of Wide Range pickups, which begs a question: Would you rather pay 80 bucks more for a Squier Classic Vibe Starcaster, which offers Wide Range-sized pickups, independent volume and tone for each pickup, and a more vintage-correct headstock? I’d probably be inclined to lean that way. But considering that most affordable semi-hollows from Epiphone and Gretsch are at least $100 to $200 more, the Affinity Starcaster Deluxe is a value star with ample style that sets it apart.
Squier Affinity Telecaster Thinline
If you don’t have much bread but crave a Telecaster, the Squier website is like cruising a little paradise. As of this writing, there’s 25 ways to satisfy your jones—all for less than $500 and as inexpensive as $199. But few combinations of good looks and price stand out quite like the Affinity Telecaster Thinline. The elegance of Leo Fender and George Fullerton’s original body profile and Roger Rossmeisl’s modifications (in particular, the cresting wave pickguard) add up to a balanced whole rather than a mess whipped up by too many cooks in the kitchen.
But the Thinline is more than a style exercise. It’s a true semi-hollow with center-block construction like an ES-335 or, for that matter, the Starcaster. As a result, the Affinity Thinline is crazy light, weighing less than seven pounds. There is some downside to this lack of body heft. The guitar is prone to neck dive unless you’re wearing an especially grippy strap. But because it’s so comfortable in every other respect, you tend not to notice once you have the neck in hand.
Quest for Twang
The neck itself is maple with an additional maple fretboard cap, but the satin finish certainly takes satin to the extreme end of its definition. Though smooth and comfortable, it feels just a touch too close to unfinished for my tastes—a condition that will no doubt be remedied by many more playing hours. There are no complaints about how the guitar feels as a player, though. The action is fast and low, there’s no fret buzz, and the intonation is dead on, making this the first guitar in this price class I’ve encountered in a long time that didn’t need a significant bit of additional setup work. Even more impressively, the Thinline is tuning stable. Poor quality tuners and poorly cut nuts are often obstacles to tuning stability on inexpensive instruments. That’s not the case here, and the Thinline held up to heavy-handed, Who-’65 strumming without flinching.
The pickups deliver quintessentially Telecaster sounds, but with a twist. Whether it’s the semi-hollow construction, the ceramic pickups (Telecaster pickups are generally alnico), or a combination of factors, the Thinline has discernibly softer attack and transients than a good upmarket version, which results in a squishier low-midrange. This means a little less honk in your honky-tonk, but it makes the Thinline a lovely jangle machine—particularly in the bridge position. And if the neck pickup seems to broadcast particularly soft transients, with a bump in top end and mids from your amp, it’s a lovely vehicle for soul ballads and mellow vocal accompaniment.
The Verdict
To a dyed-in-the-wool Tele head, the Affinity Telecaster Thinline might come across as a little spongy. But it’s a fantastic guitar for rhythm work and throwing a cheap, secondhand Boss SD-1 overdrive in the mix made the Thinline snarl and rip. At $299 before tax, it’s hard to imagine a cooler inexpensive path to twangin’ and more.
Squier Affinity Series Starcaster Deluxe Semi-hollowbody Electric Guitar - Sienna Sunburst
Affinity Strat, Sienna SunburstSquier Affinity Series Telecaster Thinline Electric Guitar - 3-color Sunburst with Maple Fingerboard
Affinity Tele, 3-Color SunburstDunlop Pays Tribute to Eric Clapton with Special Edition Cry Baby Wah
Eric Clapton Cry Baby Wah is a limited-edition pedal with GCB95 sound and gold-plated casting. Portion of proceeds donated to Crossroads Centre for addiction treatment. Available exclusively at Guitar Center.
In 1986, Mr. Clapton first started working with the late Jim Dunlop Sr., and he became one of our first and most important Cry Baby artists. We are honored that our company’s relationship with the legendary guitar player continues to this day. With this special limited edition Eric Clapton Cry Baby Wah, we’re paying tribute to Mr. Clapton’s 60-year legacy. Featuring the benchmark sound of the GCB95 Cry Baby Standard Wah, this pedal comes with a distinguished gold-plated casting befitting one of rock ’n’ roll’s living giants.
A portion of the proceeds from the sale of each Eric Clapton Cry Baby Wah will be donated to the Crossroads Centre, a not-for-profit organization founded by Mr. Clapton to provide safe and supportive addiction treatment and a road to recovery. If you wish to contribute a further donation, please visit crossroadsantigua.org.
The Eric Clapton Cry Baby Wah is available now at $299.99, exclusively from Guitar Center in the United States and from select retailers worldwide.
Eric Clapton Cry Baby Wah Highlights
- Pay tribute to one of rock 'n' roll's greatest legends
- Special limited edition• Benchmark sound of the GCB95
- Distinguished gold-plated casting
- Portion of proceeds donated to Crossroads Centre for supportive addiction treatment and recovery
PG's Nikos Arvanitis talks to the funk-guitar master about his musical influences, go-to gear choices, the pros of teaching, working in the studio versus the stage, and future plans for Jamiroquai.
As a youngster in the 1970s, Rob Harris was unusually fixated with music, spending hours watching bands on TV programmes. At the age of 7 and after much badgering from Rob, his father finally retrieved the guitar (an old Hofner) out of the loft space for him, and so began Rob’s lifelong musical journey.
After growing up in the Middle East from age 4 to 12, Rob and his family returned in to the UK in 1983 and he soon began studying with a great local guitar teacher named Colin Medlock. This was to continue for several years and was to shape a strong musical foundation in Rob’s guitar playing.
At the age of 14, Rob began gigging with local bands in the Cambridgeshire area and soon developed an interest in a variety of musical styles, listening to an eclectic range of artists and tirelessly researching and studying those who had played guitar on said records. This furthered the ongoing development of his musical skills, studying song craft, creating parts and hooks and writing lyrics. It was only natural to then take the step to working with producers and artists as a session guitarist.
The early 90’s was when Rob really began to flourish, recording and touring with The Pasadenas, Gary Numan, Mark Owen, Alphaville eventually joining the band Jamiroquai as a member in 1999 which continues to this day. Rob has played and co- written on the albums Funk Odyssey, Dynamite, Rock Dust Light Star and has most recently played on the band’s 2017 release Automaton and embarking on a global tour with the band in the April of the same year.
His credits also include: Beverly Knight, Kylie Minogue, Anastasia, Lighthouse Family, Don Airey (Deep Purple), Katy Perry, JP Cooper, Era, Gabriella Aplin, Will Young, Julian Perretta, Duke Dumont, Paloma Faith, Robbie Williams, Lego Batman (Soundtrack), Louisa Johnson and The Ministry of Sound’s Stripped Album, Kanye West, to name but a few.
Rob currently lives in Cambridgeshire where he records and teaches in between tour dates at his well-equipped studio. He also spends much of his time giving masterclasses and hosting educational workshops to music students and guitar enthusiasts, across the globe.
Ted’s parachute
If you want to escape from the pressures of modern life, go pick up your guitar. Now. You’ll be glad you did.
As I write this, we’re a few weeks away from the election, and I’m feeling as nervous as a cat in a dog park. No matter how you’re voting, there’s a good chance you feel the same way. These are complex times.
But we have a source of respite that many do not: We play guitar. Lately, I’ve made it a point to carve out an hour or so nightly to play through some of my band’s current repertoire to keep the dust off between shows and to explore some fresh sonic options to work into songs. The practice is paying off musically, but that’s not the biggest benefit. I’ve noticed, after I shut down my amps and pedalboard, and put my guitars back on their stands, that I feel better. About everything. For that hour or so, I am simply lost in the joys and mysteries of playing guitar. Things start to reveal themselves, new ideas tumble out of my fingers, and suddenly I’m in a place where anxiety can’t get to me and my mind is largely clear. It’s a safe zone where I’m not judging myself or others, and I’m relaxed and present. It’s a place where polling numbers and attack ads, family members with difficulties, and other concerns don’t even exist. And while it may be temporary, it is also beautiful.
I’m certain many of us have the same experience when we’re playing at home or onstage. And if you’re reading this while voices in your head are nattering with worry, I suggest you immediately go plug a guitar—the one that plays like melted butter—into your favorite amp and play a little melody, or your favorite set of chord changes, or even a nice campfire chord. I’d be surprised if you don’t soon feel the sensation of tension trickling out of your spine.
This is the great gift of guitar playing and music in general: Its ability to transport us to another place—that zone of safety and delight. Under the weight of the world, it is often possible to temporarily forget guitar playing’s curative power, or be distracted from it, and that is why I am reminding you.
"This is the great gift of guitar playing and music in general: Its ability to transport us to another place—that zone of safety and delight."
For me, and I’m sure this is not just my experience, music has always been a refuge—a special thing that makes my heart fill with peace, joy, and wonder. I recall watching Johnny Cash on TV as a child, listening to his spoken stories and the tales in his songs, and feeling like I was being swept through time and space, to places and eras full of exciting people and things. It stretched my imagination and worldview, and made it seem that life’s possibilities were endless. I still cherish that feeling, and listening to, for a couple examples, Tom Waits, Pink Floyd, Merle Haggard, Lucinda Williams, Son House, Kevin Gordon, Coltrane, and the Messthetics, still delivers it. And the next step, playing music and writing songs, makes me feel like an occupant of a small corner of their universe, and that’s a place I cherish.
I’ll mention safety again, and pardon me if this gets too personal. Many of us, after surviving the pandemic and the last decade of turmoil, do not feel safe. Having grown up in a household with a physically and verbally abusive father, where a blow could come at any time without reason or warning, that’s long been an issue for me. And when the news of the latest mass shooting, for example, is fresh in my brain, I tend to map out places to hide or flee when I’m at a concert or a mall or a large public gathering. Maybe that’s just my problem, but my gut—and what I hear from others—tells me it’s not.
Oddly, one of the places I can feel safest and happiest is onstage, whether performing solo or with my band, when everything is flowing and the music is in my veins. And that’s the magic of guitar and music again. It’s given me a place to be in the world that I love and that makes me feel complete. If you get that feeling from playing and listening to music, don’t let anything get in its way. Sometimes, in these times, that can be challenging, but the first step to your personal oasis is simple: just pick up that special guitar and plug in.