
Gary Rossington gets his wings onstage at the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts in Bethel, New York, in 2013.
The guitarist’s brawny Les Paul tones helped create the Lynyrd Skynyrd legacy on hits like “Free Bird” and “That Smell,” and made him a 6-string hero in his own right.
Gary Rossington—the guitarist who inspired Lynyrd Skynyrd’s song “That Smell” and then played the hell out of it, with sailing, melodramatic feedback and a corpulent, grizzly-bear tone decorated by squealing pinch harmonics—died on Sunday, March 5, after at least a decade of coronary issues, including bypass surgeries and a reported heart attack in 2015. Rossington, who held the reins of Skynyrd ’til the end, was the band’s last surviving original member.
The 71-year-old was also the primary slide guitarist in the foundational version of the Jacksonville, Florida-birthed group, playing the distinctive chirping introduction to their iconic “Free Bird,” as well as the muscular solos on “ Simple Man,” “Comin’ Home,” “Tuesday’s Gone,” “Call Me the Breeze,” “Gimme Three Steps,” “ Cry for the Bad Man,” “Workin’ for MCA,” “On the Hunt,” and their version of the Jimmie Rodgers classic “T for Texas,” among many other memorable, influential performances.
Rossington’s tone was always like a boxer’s fist—strong, calculated, consistent—regardless of the gear he played, but the core of his sonic formula was a Gibson Les Paul Standard plugged into 160 watts of Peavey Mace or 100 watts of Marshall. In fact, Rossington boasted in a 2017 PG interview with journalist Joe Charupakorn that he played his 1959 Les Paul on every Skynyrd recording and show from the band’s inception until 1977. (Although live videos of the band in the mid ’70s also show him with a two-humbucker SG slung around his shoulders.)
In Skynyrd’s nascent years, that Les Paul was his sole instrument. “Early on, we didn’t have the time to change tunings onstage, plus I only had one guitar back then, so I learned to play slide in standard,” he told me in 2015. To raise the action for his glass slide, Rossington would insert a pencil above the first fret on his guitar’s neck. He was proud that “my ’59 Les Paul, Bernice, is in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame sitting right next to Duane’s and Clapton’s guitars. They were my two biggest idols coming up, so having my guitar right between theirs is great!”
Rossington onstage at New York City’s Beacon Theatre in 1976, the year of his infamous auto wreck and the success of the live One More from the Road and “Free Bird.”
Photo by Frank White
Over the decades and the trials—brawls with Skynyrd’s mercurial leader Ronnie Van Zant that once left him with glass-shredded hands in the middle of a European tour; the terrible October 1977 plane crash in Mississippi that killed Van Zant, guitarist Steve Gaines, singer Cassie Gaines, and three others, and left Rossington badly injured; the booze-and-drugs-fueled car crash that inspired “That Smell”; the challenges of addiction and recovery; and the rising and falling tides of the music business—Rossington survived with his everyman charisma and chops intact.
He was born in Jacksonville in 1951, and his father died in the Army soon after. Initially, Rossington, who was inducted in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2006 as a member of Skynyrd, wanted to be a baseball player, but that changed with the arrival of the Rolling Stones and when he fell in with Van Zant, who became a father figure. They formed their first band together in 1964 and evolved into Skynyrd in 1969. The debut, Pronounced ’Lĕh-’nérd ’Skin-’nérd, was released in 1973 and contained “Gimme Three Steps,” “Simple Man,” “Tuesday’s Gone,” and “Free Bird,” although the latter did not become a hit until the 11-minutes-plus version on 1976’s One More from the Road was released to FM radio—forever launching “Play ‘Free Bird’” as a call for Skynyrd fans and wiseasses alike.
Rossington’s tone was always like a boxer’s fist—strong, calculated, consistent—regardless of the gear he played.”
I grew up listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd and had tickets for their Street Survivors tour at the New Haven Coliseum. It would have been my first time hearing the band live, and I was thrilled. I was also crushed when the news of the plane crash spread four days after the album’s October 17 release. I did catch the Rossington-Collins Band, which Rossington formed with fellow Lynyrd Skynyrd guitarist Allen Collins in 1979, along with Skynyrd’s bassist Leon Wilkeson and pianist Billy Powell, in 1980 at the Springfield (Massachusetts) Civic Center, but Rossington had broken his leg the day before and the vibe was, understandably, off. Seven years later, after Skynyrd reformed with Johnny Van Zant as vocalist, I caught their fiery, inspiring performance at the Centrum in Worcester, Massachusetts. Hearing the tones and visceral playing that Rossington evoked from his guitar, I immediately decided to buy my first Les Paul.
Almost 20 years later, when I was able to interview Rossington for the first time, I was inspired again—this time by his candor, humor, and humility.
When we spoke about recording “That Smell,” still one of my favorite rock songs, Rossington seemed delighted recalling that day in the studio. “It was perfect,” he said. “My guitar sound was hot, with the feedback. It was everything I wanted.”
Rossington takes part in a Lynyrd Skynyrd tradition, trading licks, with one of the current lineup’s other guitarists, Ricky Medlocke, who is the former frontman of Blackfoot and was the drummer for Skynyrd in their earlier days.
Photo by Steve Kalinsky
He also talked about the experience that inspired Ronnie Van Zant and Allen Collins to write the song. “I was out of control,” he said of hitting an oak tree and a house with his brand new Ford Torino while on a bender in 1976. “I did get in a car wreck, but we got a good song out of it.” Rossington was so wild that there were times when his bandmates, no slouches in indulgence themselves, were sure he’d kill himself.
“Eventually, I learned that drugs are just horrible for you,” Rossington observed, “but that’s the way it was in rock ’n’ roll in our time. I can’t do any of that stuff now. I’m not in such great health. I’ve had some heart problems, and I’m on the straight and narrow. It’s a lot better than being fucked up all the time, and I thank God I made it through those days.”
“We loved Cream and Clapton’s style, and all the guitar players with the British bands—Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page and also Hendrix.”–Gary Rossington
Decades later, the plane crash still hung over Rossington’s conversations about Lynyrd Skynyrd like a specter. He rarely mentioned it directly, preferring to complete relevant sentences with terms like, “until, well, you know…” or simply pausing to skip a beat.
But the guitar hero was delighted to talk about his own guitar heroes, who profoundly influenced him and generations of players, just as Rossington would influence generations in his own lifetime. “We loved Cream and Clapton’s style, and all the guitar players with the British bands—Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page and also Hendrix,” he recalled. “But mostly it was Clapton, because he was so good, and he played more of the kind of blues we were raised on. I grew up listening to him and hoping to be that good one day. Of course, I never made it, and I never got near Hendrix, either. I don’t know if anybody will ever be as good as Hendrix again.
“And Duane and Gregg were big deals to us. They inspired us before they were the Allman Brothers. We would go see all the bands they were in while we were growing up. The Allman Joys played a lot in town, at clubs and teenage dances. Duane and Gregg were already great even then, and you could see Duane get better on guitar every week or two. Plus, they were older than us doing exactly what we wanted to do— they were driving and smoking and had long hair and were out of school. They were as cool as sliced bread!”
His current Lynyrd Skynyrd bandmates offered this announcement of Rossington’s death, on social media. “It is with our deepest sympathy and sadness that we have to advise that we lost our brother, friend, family member, songwriter, and guitarist, Gary Rossington, today. Gary is now with his Skynyrd brothers and family in heaven and playing it pretty, like he always does.”
- How “Freebird” Taught Me Everything I Need to Know About Rock Guitar Soloing ›
- Rig Rundown: Lynyrd Skynyrd [2018] ›
- Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Gary Rossington: Simple Man, Big Tone ›
An overdrive and mangled fuzz that’s a wolf in a maniacal, rabid wolf’s clothing.
Invites new compositional approaches to riffs and solos. Gray Channel distortion is versatile and satisfying. Unpredictable.
Unpredictable. Footswitches for distortion and fuzz are quite close.
$199
Fuzz can be savored in so many ways. It can be smooth. It can be an agent of chaos. But it can also be a trap. In service of mayhem, it can be a mere noise crutch. Smooth, classy, “tasty” fuzz, meanwhile, can lead to dull solos crafted as Olympian demonstrations of sustain. To touch the soulful, rowdy essence of fuzz, it’s good to find one that never lets you get quite comfortable. The EarthQuaker Devices Gary, a two-headed distortion/overdrive and rabid, envelope-controlled square-wave fuzz designed with IDLES’ Lee Kiernan, is a gain device in this vein.
Gary is not exclusively a destruction machine. Its distortion/overdrive section is a very streamlined take on EarthQuaker’s Gray Channel, a versatile DOD 250-derived double distortion. Like any good circuit of the 250 ilk, Gary’s hard clipping OD/distortion section bites viciously in the high- and high-mid frequencies, supported by a tight, punchy low-mid output. You can play anything from balanced M.O.R. studio crunch to unhinged feedback leads with this side of Gary. But it’s the envelope-triggered pulse-width fuzz—which most of us will hear as a gated fuzz, in many instances—that gives the Gary its werewolf duality. Though practice yields performance patterns that change depending on the instrument and effects you use around the Gary, its fuzz ultimately sputters and collapses into nothingness—especially when you throw a few pitch bends its way. The cut to silence can be jarring, but also compels a player to explore more rhythmic leads and choppy riffs that would sound like sludge with a Big Muff. The Gary’s unpredictable side means it won’t be for everybody, but its ability to span delicioso distortion and riotous splatter fuzz in a single unit is impressive.
EarthQuaker Devices Gary Automatic Pulse Width Modulation Fuzz/Overdrive Pedal
Automatic Pulse Width Modulation Fuzz PedalGuest columnist Dave Pomeroy, who is also president of Nashville’s musicians union, with some of his friends.
Dave Pomeroy, who’s played on over 500 albums with artists including Emmylou Harris, Elton John, Trisha Yearwood, Earl Scruggs, and Alison Krauss, shares his thoughts on bass playing—and a vision of the future.
From a very young age, I was captivated by music. Our military family was stationed in England from 1961 to 1964, so I got a two-year head start on the Beatles starting at age 6. When Cream came along, for the first time I was able to separate what the different players were doing, and my focus immediately landed on Jack Bruce. He wrote most of the songs, sang wonderfully, and drove the band with his bass. Playing along with Cream’s live recordings was a huge part of my initial self-training, and I never looked back.
The electric bass has a much shorter history than most instruments. I believe that this is a big reason why the evolution of bass playing continues in ways that were literally unimaginable when it began to replace the acoustic bass on pop and R&B recordings. Players like James Jamerson, Joe Osborn, Carol Kaye, Chuck Rainey, and David Hood made great songs even better with their bass lines, pocket, and tone. Playing in bands throughout my teenage years, I took every opportunity I could to learn from musicians who were more experienced than I was. Slowly, I began to understand the power of the bass to make everyone else sound better—or lead the way to a train wreck! That sense of responsibility was not lost on me. As I continued to play, listen, and learn, a gradual awareness of other elements came to the surface, including the three Ts: tone, timing, and taste.
I was ready to rock the world with busy lines and bass solos when I moved to Nashville in the late ’70s, and I was suddenly transported into the land of singer-songwriters. It was a huge awakening when I heard the lyrics of artists like Guy Clark, whose spare yet powerful stories and simple guitar changes opened up a whole new universe in reverse for me. It was a reset for sure, but gradually I found ways to combine my earlier energetic approach in different ways. Playing what’s right for a song is a very subjective thing.
“If the song calls for you to ramp up the energy and lead the way like Chris Squire, Bootsy Collins, Geddy Lee, Sting, Flea, Justin Chancellor, or so many others, trust yourself and go for it.”
Don Williams, whom I worked with for many years, was known as a man of few words, but he gave me some of the best musical advice I ever received. I had been with him for just a few months when he pulled me aside one night after a show, and quietly said, “Dave, you don’t have to play what’s on the records, just don’t throw me off when I’m singing.” In other words: It’s okay to be creative, but listen to what’s going on around you. I never forgot that lesson.
As I gradually got into recording work, in an environment where creativity is combined with efficiency and experimentation is sometimes, but not always, welcome, I focused on tone as a form of expression, trying to make every note count. As drum sounds got much bigger during the ’80s, string bass was pretty much off the table as an option in most situations. Inspired by German bassist Eberhard Weber, I bought an electric upright 5-string built by Harry Fleishman a few years earlier. That theoretically self-indulgent purchase gave me an opportunity to carve out a tone that would work with both big drums and acoustic instruments. It gave me an identifiable sound and led to me playing that bass on records with artists like Keith Whitley, Trisha Yearwood, Alison Krauss, Emmylou Harris, and the Chieftains.
In a world of constantly evolving and merging musical styles, the options can be almost overwhelming, so it’s important to trust yourself. Ultimately, you are making a series of choices every time you pick up the instrument. Whether it’s pick versus fingers versus thumb, or clean versus overdrive versus distortion, and so on … you are the boss of your role in the song you are playing. When the sonic surroundings you find yourself in change, so can you. It’s all about listening to what is going on around you and finding that sweet spot where you can bring the whole thing together while not attracting too much attention.
On the other hand, if the song calls for you to ramp up the energy and lead the way like Chris Squire, Bootsy Collins, Geddy Lee, Sting, Flea, Justin Chancellor, or so many others, trust yourself and go for it. Newer role models like Tal Wilkenfeld, Thundercat, and MonoNeon have raised the bar yet again. The beauty of it all is that the bass and its role keep evolving.
Right now, I guarantee there are young bassists of all descriptions we have not yet heard who are reinventing the bass and its role in new ways. That’s what bass players do—we are the glue that ties music together. Find your power and use it!
A satin finish with serious style. Join PG contributor Tom Butwin as he dives into the PRS Standard 24 Satin—a guitar that blends classic PRS craftsmanship with modern versatility. From its D-MO pickups to its fast-playing neck, this one’s a must-see.
PRS Standard 24 Satin Electric Guitar - Satin Red Apple Metallic
Standard 24 Satin, Red App MetA reverb-based pedal for exploring the far reaches of sound.
Easy to use control set. Wide range of sounds. Crush control is fun to explore. Filter is versatile.
Works best as a stereo effect, which may limit some players.
$299
Old Blood Noise Endeavors Dark Star Stereo
oldbloodnoise.com
The Old Blood Dark Star Stereo (DSS) is one of those pedals that lives beyond simple effect categorization. Yes, it’s a digital reverb. But like other Old Blood designs, it’s such a feature-rich, creative take on that effect that to think of it as a reverb feels not only imprecise but unfair.
The Old Blood Dark Star Stereo (DSS) is one of those pedals that lives beyond simple effect categorization. Yes, it’s a digital reverb. But like other Old Blood designs, it’s such a feature-rich, creative take on that effect that to think of it as a reverb feels not only imprecise but unfair.
In this case, reverb describes how the DSS works more than how it sounds. I’ve come to think of this pedal as a reverb-based synthesizer, where reverb is the jumping-off point for sonic creation. As such, the sounds coming out of the Dark Star can be used as subtle sweetener or sound design textures, opening up worlds that might otherwise be unreachable.
Reverb and Beyond
Functionally speaking, the DSS starts with reverb and applies a high-/low-pass filter, two pitch shifters, each with a two-octave range in each direction, plus bit-crushing and distortion. Controls for lag (pre-delay), multiply (feedback), and decay follow, with mini knobs for volume, mix, and spread. Additional control features include presets, MIDI functionality, plus expression and aux control.
The DSS can be routed in mono, stereo, or mono-in/stereo-out. Both jacks are single TRS, and it’s easy to switch between settings by holding down the bypass switch and selecting via the preset button.
Although it sounds great in mono, stereo is where this iteration of the Dark Star—which follows the mono Dark Star and Dark Star V2—really comes alive. Starting with the filter, both pitch shifters, and crush knobs at noon—all have center detents—affords the most neutral settings. The result is a pad reverb, as synthetic as but less sparkly than a shimmer. The filter control is a fine way to distinguish clean and effect signals. In low-pass mode, the effect signal can easily get dark and spooky while maintaining fidelity and without getting murky. On the other end, high-pass settings are handy for refining those reverb pads and keeping them from washing out the clarity of the clean signal.
Lower fidelity is close at hand when you want it. The crush control, when turned counterclockwise, reduces the bit rate of the effect signal, evoking all kinds of digitally compromised sounds, from early samplers to cell phones, depending on how you flavor it. Counterclockwise applies distortion to the reverb signal. There’s a lot to explore within the wide ranges of the two pitch controls, too. With a four-octave range, quantized in half steps, the combinations can be extreme, and Dark Star takes on a life of its own.
Formless Reflections of Matter
The DSS is easy to get acquainted with, especially for a pedal with so many features, 10 knobs, and two footswitches. I quickly got a feel for the reverb itself at the most neutral filter and pitch settings, where I enjoyed the weight a responsive, textural pad lent to everything I played.
With just the filter and crush controls, there’s plenty to explore. Sitting in the sweet spot between a pair of vintage Fenders, I conjured a Twin Peaks-inspired hazy fog to accompany honeyed diatonic arpeggios, slowly filtering and crushing that sound into a dark, evil low-end whir as chords leaned toward dissonance. Eventually, I cranked the high-pass filter, producing an early MP3-in-a-good-way “shhh” that was fine accompaniment to sparser voicings along my fretboard. It was a true sonic journeyThe pitch controls increase possibilities for both ambience and dissonance. Simple tweaks push the boundaries of possibility in exponentially deeper directions. For more subtle thickening and accompaniment sounds, adding octaves, which are easy to tune by ear, offers precise tone sculpting, dimension, and a wider frequency range. Hearing simple harmonic ideas plucked against celeste- and organ-like reverberations kept me in the Harold Budd and Brian Eno space for long enough to consider new recording projects.
There is as much fun to be had at the highest feedback settings on the DSS. Be forewarned: Spend too much time there and you might need a name for your new ambient band. Cranking the multiply and decay knobs, I’d drop in a few notes, or maybe just a chord, and get to work scanning the pitch knobs and sculpting with the filter. Soon, I conjured bold Ligeti-inspired orchestral sounds fit for a guitar remix of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
The Verdict
The Dark Star Stereo strikes a nice balance between deep control, a wide range of sonic rewards, playability, and an always-sounds-great vibe. The controls are easy to use, so it doesn’t take long to get in the zone, and once you do, there’s plenty to explore. Throughout my time with the DSS, I was impressed with its high-fidelity clarity. I attribute that to the filter, which allows clean and reverb signals to perform dry/wet balance and EQ functions. That alone encouraged more adventurous and creative exploration. Though not every player needs this kind of tone tool, the DSS is a must-check-out effect for anyone serious about wild reverb adventures, and it’s simple and intuitive enough to be a good fit for anyone just starting exploration of those zones. However you come to the Dark Star, it’s a unique-sounding pedal that deserves attention. PG