Sue Foley moved to Austin at the end of the 1980s to immerse herself in the city’s blues scene, where artists like the Vaughan brothers, Albert Collins, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, and Billy Gibbons became her beacons.
For Austin, Texas’ favorite Canadian expat, guitarist, and singer Sue Foley, staying faithful to the blues tradition is more than just a concern of style. It’s a calling. Foley explains: “I never questioned really dedicating myself to the blues, and that commitment and desire to always be true to it has never changed. I can see where the lines have been blurred between blues, Americana, and country, and there’s a million ways you can skin a cat at this point, but for me and my perception of what the blues really is, you have to step into a history and a deep tradition.”
With her latest release, Pinky’s Blues, Foley doubles down on that assertion while adding a fresh document to Austin’s fabled blues catalog. The album’s obscure song selections flex Foley’s muscles as a historian and student of the form, but also provide a fabulous platform for her tremendous personality and chops as a guitarist and vocalist. The album, which was named after her beloved late-’80s pink paisley Fender Telecaster, “Pinky,” is Foley’s 16th release as a leader and a love letter to the forgotten but influential deep cuts that helped shape the Austin blues sound as we know it.
“We really handpicked these tracks of favorites between me and our producer Mike Flanigin. These are all songs that, when we were coming up, you kind of had to know to get in the club, so to speak. Something like Clarence ‘Gatemouth’ Brown’s ‘Okie Dokie Stomp’ was a rite of passage for any guitar player in Austin back then. Now, you never hear anyone doing it, but it was a regular song that everyone had to know.”
Pinky's Blues
Foley earned her stripes in the blues world the old-fashioned way. After starting to find her voice on guitar in her native Canada, she grew enamored of the blues and specifically the sounds coming out of Austin. Foley relocated to the hip Texas city in the early ’90s to immerse herself in the local blues culture. In an era before the internet gave us infinite access to all things, Foley’s Texas pilgrimage wasn’t just a drastic way to soak up the music. It was the most authentic way. Foley ruminates on that magical, pre-internet era.
“It’s completely different now! I have a 24-year-old son that’s a musician, and the way he is able to view and experience music is totally different from what we did. It’s still really valid, but it’s just a different vibe. What I saw and experienced was all direct transmission, and that honestly had to be experienced directly. I had to stand in front of Albert Collins’ amp to get the full effect! I had to have part of my hearing destroyed and I had to move molecules. I think direct transmission like that is important and you just can’t get that from the internet.”
“Let’s face it, Howlin’ Wolf wasn’t in there splicing together his vocal takes.”
Foley continues: “I can talk about Albert Collins, but unless you stood in front of his amp and watched him, you can’t really get it. You can watch all the clips of him you like and say, ‘Well, yeah, he had a wicked tone,’ but when that tone hit your ears in person, I’m telling you it split your hairs! That shit was real and that shit changed my life. I’m not sure if I was just starting out today if I’d even be a blues musician, because I wouldn’t have seen all of these people live. It was experiencing that face-to-face and walking away with my jaw dropped that changed my life and expanded my spirit and my soul, and I’m not sure I could do that watching a YouTube video.”
The years Foley spent worshiping in front of the amplifiers of (and eventually sitting in with) greats like Collins, Brown, Billy Gibbons, and Jimmie Vaughan helped her shape a style that’s undeniably authentic and traditional, but defined by an impressively vocal phrasing approach that gives her playing its own special personality. From the soulful, improvised instrumental title track and album opener to the brasher rave-ups (“Dallas Man” and “Okie Dokie Stomp”), Foley’s singing and guitar playing is timeless and familiar, yet entirely her own. From her tones to her note choices, she tends to favor understatement fueled by palpable conviction.
Sue Foley’s Gear
Meet Sue Foley’s pal Pinky, the reissue Telecaster that’s been her onstage companion for 30 years. She strings the instrument with D’Addario .010 sets and uses a thumbpick for her ringing single-note leads.
Photo by Michele Gare
Guitar
- 1988 Fender MIJ ’70s Paisley Telecaster Reissue named Pinky
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario strings (.010–.046)
- Golden Gate small thumbpicks
Amp
- Early ’90s Fender 1959 Bassman 4x10 reissue
Effects
- Boss Digital Reverb
- Strymon Flint
In the spirit of capturing as live and visceral an experience as possible, Pinky’s Blues was cut in just three days by Foley and her band (which included drummer Chris “Whipper” Layton of Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble/Arc Angels fame, and a guest appearance from Jimmie Vaughan himself) playing in the same room—including all the amps. There was no pre-production involved and the musicians went in with only a cursory knowledge of the songs—something Foley believes added a lot to the album’s undeniable spark and energy.
“Everything was done live, everything was played together in the studio, including the vocals,” Foley relates. “No overdubs. I was just getting comfortable with a few of the songs. Chris Layton is obviously a wizard and can just play anything, and Jon Penner was my very first bass player and he’s back in my band now. So, it was a bunch of really skilled musicians and what we do is live music, so none of us were intimidated by the process. We just went for it! That’s how all our favorite albums were cut! Let’s face it, Howlin’ Wolf wasn’t in there splicing together his vocal takes.”
From Foley’s perspective, deliberately shirking any rehearsal of the tunes on Pinky’s Blues forced her and her band to really listen to one another as they tracked. “Everyone was really in the moment, and that spontaneity and energy is what you’re hearing on the album. And the reason this album sounds so good is the bleed, because we had so many room mics and we were all in one big room. It was set up like a live show and we just hit record, so we were getting the drums in the vocal mics, the vocals in the guitar mics, and that bleed created this big, cohesive sound. Our engineer, Chris Bell, worked hard to get those sounds right, and I know he had challenges mixing the album because everything is going into everything. You want a blues record to be a little on the edge, you know?”
Recorded in the studio in just three days, Foley’s new album sparkles with live energy—and bleed. Producer Mike Flanigin is also an Austin scene stalwart, who has toured and recorded with Jimmie Vaughan and Billy Gibbons.
When asked what legendary drummer and longtime friend Layton brought to the fold beyond his signature deep pocket and greasy backbeat, Foley is quick to call out his fantastic playing on “Southern Men,” and tells PG the tune was a deep cut that was dug up from an obscure ’70s compilation album called Blues in D Natural. “I’ve had it in my vinyl collection from way back, and Chris Layton had that same compilation and showed it to Stevie [Ray Vaughan] and they cut [Sly Williams’] ‘Boot Hill’ off that album. The original version [by Georgia-based bluesman Tommy Brown] was called ‘Southern Women,’ but we did it as ‘Southern Men.’”
All players hit a rut occasionally, and when Foley found herself in the 6-string doldrums, she turned to flamenco guitar to shake things up. Foley believes the picking hand is where the magic of a player’s personality really comes through, and as a player with a fixation on picking techniques, flamenco offered her a buffet of new techniques and a completely alien playing experience. Foley, who favors a thumbpick and acrylic nails on her right hand, says, “I used to watch Gatemouth, and his picking hand had this magic thing to it. He had unique things he was able to do. I took flamenco lessons because there happened to be a teacher in town, and it really turned me on my ear. It was literally like I had never played the instrument before, and I had been playing for almost 20 years at that point. It was very humbling. I took a year or two of those lessons and I applied those techniques to some kind of hybrid-blues form. I love playing my nylon-string guitar, and flamenco and blues are very sympatico art forms in my opinion. I think a lot of your tone comes out of the picking hand and I think you get more special elements out of your playing if you focus on that side of your playing a bit more.”
“These days, the whole loud guitar and amplifier thing isn’t the most popular thing, but it still is for me, and I love it. It’s a feeling of power!”
Much like her heroes, Foley favors a lone guitar and a spartan rig. The entire album was tracked with Foley’s paisley Telecaster named Pinky, which is a stock MIJ reissue that she fell in love with and got new in 1988. “I saw it and thought, ‘I have to have that!’ and my boyfriend at the time brought it home for Christmas and had made the first payment, but I paid it off in installments,” Foley says of Pinky’s origins. “I’ve played that guitar at every show, recorded every album, and done every tour with it for 30-something years now. It’s got a lot of miles and it still sounds great. I’ve never changed the pickups, but I’ve had it refretted a few times. I’ve always loved the neck and it’s always sounded so good that I’ve just never wanted to mess with it!”
Pinky sang through an early ’90s 1959 Fender Bassman reissue on the album, which Foley bought new. The guitarist says that she’s never felt the need to be particularly adventurous about gear, because “you can dress everything up, but at the end of the day, you’re still you and you’re going to sound like you. When I saw Albert Collins, he only ever had one guitar. When I saw Gatemouth, he almost always played the same one.” However, Foley does make an exception for reverb, which she loves, and called upon a Boss Digital Reverb and a Strymon Flint to add some atmosphere to her cranked Bassman.
Foley digs into one of her solos, which are marked by a thick midrange-and-reverb heavy tone and in-the-pocket playing.
Photo by Joseph A. Rosen
Beyond her killer new album, Foley’s many years in the game—coupled with a dedication to studying the blues tradition with an academic approach—has afforded her a unique perspective. While she’s a staunch proponent of preservation, Foley makes no bones about the fact that to keep the blues alive “you have to breathe new life into it, you’ve got to be yourself, and you’ve got to tell your story. There’s a whole bunch of things you can add into it that bring this tradition forward and into the current times, but it’s about your personal story and nobody can take that away from you. That’s where your blues begins and ends, really!”
Foley’s lengthy career has brought her shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the greatest guitarists the genre has ever produced—experiences she says were not just wildly validating but provided the perfect opportunity to steal from the best. “You can learn some of their tricks because you’re seeing them up close and getting a feel for the little special things that everybody incorporates in their stuff that might not be immediately apparent,” she notes. “I’ve played with Jimmie [Vaughan] a lot, and he’s got a lot of little special things that he does to make up his secret sauce, so there’s that. That osmosis and direct transfer and those magical things that shoot right into your spirit when you’re getting them from an amp and a guitar … that’s what it’s all about for me. These days, the whole loud guitar and amplifier thing isn’t the most popular thing, but it still is for me, and I love it. It’s a feeling of power!”
And while many of the great blues players that shaped her love of the genre have now passed on, Foley still appreciates the style’s capacity for reverence and respect for its elders more than anything: “When I was coming up, we toured with every blues artist that was on the scene, from Buddy Guy to Koko Taylor. Most of them were a lot older, but there was a real reverence for that age and a real respect, and I just love that about the blues. You can grow up in it, grow old in it, and get better! To me, that was always the beauty of blues music: When you get older, you kind of get better. It’s such an age-obsessed, youth-obsessed world these days and when you see an art form like this that not only really appreciates age, but you kind of have to have some years in the game to be the real deal … it’s rare.”
Sue Foley - Live in Europe DVD
Chock full of perfect-blues-tone guitar solos, this live concert from Köln Germany captures Sue Foley relatively early in her relationship with Pinky, her paisley Telecaster. It also reveals how deeply her playing is rooted in Austin’s blues legacy.
Versatile guitarist Nathaniel Murphy can be seen and heard on YouTube and Instagram, where he has over 450,000 followers, and demos for Chicago Music Exchange.
Guest Picker - Nathaniel Murphy
A: My signature pedal wouldn’t even really be my sound. It would have all of The Edge’s exact sounds and settings in one pedal as presets. No messing with switches or dialing in tones, just cycle through presets and it sounds exactly like “Pride (In the Name of Love),” “Mysterious Ways,” or “Where the Streets Have no Name.” It would be purely just for fun to jam at home. My own pedal would probably just be a reverb!
While recovering from a hand injury, Nathaniel Murphy “really got into picado technique and would watch Paco De Lucia and in particular Matteo Mancuso (above) vids and lessons.
Obsession: Well, I’ve just spent six weeks in a cast after a wrist fracture—very scary. During that time I couldn’t use my fretting hand so I worked on my picking hand. I really got into picado technique and would watch Paco De Lucia and in particular Matteo Mancuso vids and lessons. It’s been really refreshing and also fun working on a new technique for me, even though it’s incredibly tricky and progress is slow. But I love the challenge of it.
Reader of the Month - Steve Eisenberg
A: My signature pedal would be simple to use, have the capability of being shaped with iPhone-app based effects, and expand features as my guitar adventure grows in scope. I’m very much in the experimentation stage with my pedal work, and having direction and guidance available on an iPhone has helped me navigate in a way that ensures I’m meeting some of my guitar-adventure goals.
Obsession: Through the guidance of my instructor, I am exploring fingerstyle guitar, as it has motivated me away from just chord shapes and scale work. I was feeling a little stuck, and using the fingers of the right hand has allowed me to increase my dexterity and coordination, and motivated me to practice more often.
Gear Editor - Charles Saufley
Mr. Saufley, represented by a mallard.
A: The foundation of my signature pedal is the guts of a 1968 Vox Starstream guitar, which is made up of a Vox Distortion Booster fuzz, a Vox Repeat Percussion tremolo, and Vox Treble Booster. Sonically speaking, this is like donning a psych-punk freakbeat cape. Just before the Distortion Booster there is a Grampian 636 reverb preamp circuit to fatten up and color the works. After the freakbeat section, there will be a de- and re-constructed Roland RE-201 Space Echo. Most of the pedal enclosure will be made up of clear Lucite (illuminated by alternating-color lamps), so I can observe the tape swirling within. The RE-201’s spring reverb, meanwhile, will be suspended in its own flip-up Lucite case which will sit on dampers to insulate it from floor vibration. Hopefully, it will sound like Lee “Scratch” Perry producing Love’s “7 and 7 Is”.
Obsession: The first sounds and green and gold flashes of early spring—and the wakeful energy, ideas, and inspiration it brings.
Giving some love to Love!
Art Director - Naomi Rose
A: The enclosure would be hex color #00b4c1—branded as NAOMI blue—checkerboarded with alternating boxes of NAOMI blue glitter flock and matte NAOMI blue. The footswitch would be a bulbous orange rubber material so it’d feel squishy when stepping on it whilst playing barefoot. It would have a kick-out stand in the back like a picture frame, so when it's not in use, it could stand angled on a shelf to be admired. It would be called Ruckus because that's my middle name. What would it DO? That's a secret I will not be sharing at this time.
Our graphic designer’s dream pedal brought to life.
Obsession: Silence. I hardly listen to music or podcasts these days. When I don’t have outside noise, I tend to self-narrate in my head, which leads to making ridiculous little made-up songs throughout the day. These will oftentimes spark cool ideas and manifest into actual songs that I end up recording and producing. Even in the mundane, inspiration is everywhere. Sometimes getting rid of distractions helps you notice it more.
After eight years, New Orleans artist Benjamin Booker returns with a new album and a redefined relationship to the guitar.
That evening, Booker played a release celebration show at Euclid Records in New Orleans, which has become the musician’s adopted hometown. He spent a few years in Los Angeles, and then in Australia, where his partner gave birth to their child, but when he moved back to the U.S. in December 2023, it was the only place he could imagine coming back to. “I just like that the city has kind of a magic quality to it,” he says. “It just feels kind of like you’re walking around a movie set all the time.”
Witness was a ruminative, lonesome record, an interpretation of the writer James Baldwin’s concept of bearing witness to atrocity and injustice in the United States. Mavis Staples sang on the title track, which addressed the centuries-old crisis of police killings and brutality carried out against black Americans. It was a significant change from the twitchy, bluesy garage-rock of Booker’s self-titled 2014 debut, the sort of tunes that put him on the map as a scrappy guitar-slinging hero. But Booker never planned on heroism; he had no interest in becoming some neatly packaged industry archetype. After Witness, and years of touring, including supporting the likes of Jack White and Neil Young, Booker withdrew.
He was searching for a sound. “I was just trying to find the things that I liked,” he explains. L.A. was a good place for his hunt. He went cratedigging at Stellaremnant for electronic records, and at Artform Studio in Highland Park for obscure jazz releases. It took a long time to put together the music he was chasing. “For a while, I left guitar, and was just trying to figure out what I was going to do,” says Booker. “I just wasn’t interested in it anymore. I hadn’t heard really that much guitar stuff that had really spoke to me.”
“For a while, I left guitar, and was just trying to figure out what I was going to do. I just wasn’t interested in it anymore.”
LOWER is Booker’s most sensitive and challenging record yet.
Among the few exceptions were Tortoise’s Jeff Parker and Dave Harrington from Darkside, players who moved Booker to focus more on creating ambient and abstract textures instead of riffs. Other sources of inspiration came from Nicolas Jaar, Loveliescrushing, Kevin Shields, Sophie, and JPEGMAFIA. When it came to make LOWER (which released on Booker’s own Fire Next Time Records, another nod to Baldwin), he took the influences that he picked up and put them onto guitar—more atmosphere, less “noodly stuff”: “This album, I was working a lot more with images, trying to get images that could get to the emotion that I was trying to get to.”
The result is a scraping, aching, exploratory album that demonstrates that Booker’s creative analysis of the world is sharper and more potent than ever. Opener “Black Opps” is a throbbing, metallic, garage-electronic thrill, running back decades of state surveillance, murder, and sabotage against Black community organizing. “LWA in the Trailer Park” is brighter by a slim margin, but just as simultaneously discordant and groovy. The looped fingerpicking of “Pompeii Statues” sets a grounding for Booker to narrate scenes of the homelessness crisis in Los Angeles. Even the acoustic strums of “Heavy on the Mind” are warped and stretched into something deeply affecting; ditto the sunny, garbage-smeared ’60s pop of “Show and Tell.” But LOWER is also breathtakingly beautiful and moving. “Slow Dance in a Gay Bar” and “Hope for the Night Time” intermingle moments of joy and lightness amid desperation and loneliness.
Booker worked with L.A.-based hip-hop and electronic producer Kenny Segal, trading stems endlessly over email to build the record. While he was surrounded by vintage guitars and amps to create Witness, Booker didn’t use a single amplifier in the process of making LOWER: He recorded all his guitars direct through an interface to his DAW. “It’s just me plugging my old Epiphone Olympic into the computer and then using software plugins to manipulate the sounds,” says Booker. For him, working digitally and “in the box” is the new frontier of guitar music, no different than how Hendrix and Clapton used never-heard-before fuzz pedals to blow people’s minds. “When I look at guitar players who are my favorites, a lot of [their playing] is related to the technology at the time,” he adds.
“When I look at guitar players who are my favorites, a lot of [their playing] is related to the technology at the time.”
Benjamin Booker's Gear
Booker didn’t use any amps on LOWER. He recorded his old Epiphone Olympic direct into his DAW.
Photo by Trenity Thomas
Guitars
- 1960s Epiphone Olympic
Effects
- Soundtoys Little AlterBoy
- Soundtoys Decapitator
- Soundtoys Devil-Loc Deluxe
- Soundtoys Little Plate
“I guess I have a problem with anything being too sugary. I wanted a little bit of ugliness.”
Inspired by a black metal documentary in which an artist asks for the cheapest mic possible, Booker used only basic plugins by Soundtoys, like the Decapitator, Little AlterBoy, and Little Plate, but the Devil-Loc Deluxe was the key for he and Segal to unlock the distorted, “three-dimensional world” they were seeking. “Because I was listening to more electronic music where there’s more of a focus on mixing than I would say in rock music, I think that I felt more inspired to go in and be surgical about it,” says Booker.
Part of that precision meant capturing the chaos of our world in all its terror and splendor. When he was younger, Booker spent a lot of time going to the Library of Congress and listening to archival interviews. On LOWER, he carries out his own archival sound research. “I like the idea of being able to put things like that in the music, for people to just hear it,” says Booker. “Even if they don’t know what it is, they’re catching a glimpse of life that happened at that time.”
On “Slow Dance in a Gay Bar,” there are birds chirping that he captured while living in Australia. Closer “Hope for the Night Time” features sounds from Los Angeles’ Grand Central Market. “Same Kind of Lonely” features audio of Booker’s baby laughing just after a clip from a school shooting. “I guess I have a problem with anything being too sugary,” says Booker. “I wanted a little bit of ugliness. We all have our regular lives that are just kind of interrupted constantly by insane acts of violence.”
That dichotomy is often difficult to compute, but Booker has made peace with it. “You hear people talking about, ‘I don’t want to have kids because the world is falling apart,’” he says. “But I mean, I feel like it’s always falling apart and building itself back up. Nothing lasts forever, even bad times.”
YouTube It
To go along with the record, Booker produced a string of music videos influenced by the work of director Paul Schrader and his fascination with “a troubled character on the edge, reaching for transcendence.” That vision is present in the video for lead single “LWA in the Trailer Park.”
