In their corner, from left to right: Wilco’s Pat Sansone (guitars, keys, and more), drummer Glenn Kotche, Jeff Tweedy, bassist John Stirratt, guitarist Nels Cline, and keyboardist Mikael Jorgensen.
Every artist who’s enjoyed some level of fame has had to deal with the parasocial effect—where audiences feel an overly intimate connection to an artist just from listening to their music. It can lead some listeners to believe they even have a personal relationship with the artist. I asked Jeff Tweedy what it feels like to be on the receiving end of that.
“It’s definitely weird having people know you that you don’t know,” he replied. “There’s a level of intimacy that some people feel they’ve had with you because you’ve reached them in intimate moments—your voice has, at least.” But rather than off-putting, he sees beauty in it: “I try to be really respectful of that, ’cause it’s ultimately really sweet. It’s flattering to be a companion to somebody that you don’t know. It’s one of the more beautiful things about doing what I do, in that it has the potential to be difference-making for somebody in a dark moment.”
With the release of Wilco’s 12th studio album, Cruel Country, Tweedy and the band are offering 21 new songs to connect with. And as its title suggests, Wilco sinks into a country vibe more than ever before. Tweedy speculates that fans have always assumed that Wilco is in some way a country band, and although he’s not sure he agrees, he decided to lean into that on Cruel Country.
I Am My Mother
Cruel Country has a concept behind it but isn’t necessarily a concept recording. Tweedy sees it as an “American music album about America.” The songwriter says he’s struggled with what American identity means for decades. “Going back as far as Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, that’s sort of a running theme through a lot of things I’ve written. I would call it an affection or a connection where I can’t really choose. Just like the soft spot you have for your family or the people that you wish knew better but just can’t help themselves, that you have been shown kindness from in other ways. I think that you can be critical of something, believe that its flaws are intolerable, and actually have love for the same person or the same thing. In this case, your country.” Of course, with its twangy riffs, bent-note solos, and other classic sonic signatures, the album can easily be heard as a loving homage to country music. Regardless, this new entry in Wilco’s catalog seems the next right step in the band’s career.
“It all becomes a part of the thing that you can’t fake—ensemble-based playing.”—Jeff Tweedy
The album blends Wilco’s classic sound with that twang and small doses of unconventional arrangements. It refamiliarizes us with Tweedy’s unassuming, mutedly sad, and at times droll lyrics. “Once, just by chance / I made a friend in an ambulance / I was half man, half broken glass,” he sings on “Ambulance.” In the single “Falling Apart (Right Now),” he reflects on the pervasive stress of modern life with the couplet, “Now don’t you lose your mind / While I’m looking for mine.” And in keeping with Wilco’s wilder moments, the band explores abstract effects on the nearly eight-minute “Many Worlds” and ventures into an extended jam for the second half of “Bird Without a Tail/ Base of My Skull.”
Cruel Country started back in 2020, when, after having to cancel a tour with Sleater-Kinney, Tweedy started sending the band songs to work on remotely. They got back on the road in 2021, and during those two years, Tweedy met occasionally with individual members at their Chicago recording and practice space, the Loft, to hash out material. But it wasn’t until January 2022 that all the members were able to meet at the space for the first time since before the pandemic.
Jeff Tweedy’s Gear
Jeff Tweedy used three acoustic guitars on Wilco’s latest, including his faithful Martin D-28. He praises Bob Dylan and Buck Owens as models for his own country-flavored acoustic rhythm playing.
Photo by Jordi Vidal
Guitars
- 1944 Martin D-28 named “Hank”
- 1933 Martin OM-18
- 1931 Martin OM-28
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario Phosphor Bronze EJ16 (.012–.053)
- D’Addario Phosphor Bronze EJ17 (.013–.056)
- Herco Flex 50
- Herco Flex 75
- Snarling Dogs Brain Picks, green, .53 mm
In the days leading up to that, Tweedy was writing more prolifically and continued to forward his rough demos to his bandmates. “The songs started coming very easily and felt very urgent, and it felt good to have a new song to sing each day,” he says.
Guitarist Nels Cline, Wilco’s sonic not-so-secret weapon, notes, “At one point last year, Jeff decided he wanted to send us a song a day that he would record on his smartphone, playing guitar and singing. As I recall, he wrote 51 songs in 52 days. And unlike a lot of his songwriting that we’ve experienced, a lot of these songs had finished lyrics and choruses and everything. Some were so absolutely classic in the style that I would loosely call country songs or folk songs that I didn’t know that they were Wilco songs.”
Multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone adds, “But when we looked at the material that we had in the works, we saw that we had a lot that was in this style, and decided, ‘Why don’t we lean into these songs to make a body of work?’ I think it’s natural for us to do something like this. It’s always been a part of our vocabulary.”
“I’ve always loved that [B-Bender] sound and I certainly admire the great players. Clarence White was a genius and one of my favorite guitarists. And I’m a big fan of Marty Stuart’s guitar playing.”—Pat Sansone
When Wilco was able to meet, putting together the arrangements for Tweedy’s already fleshed-out ideas came easily. “We actually made the first disc of this record in January in two weeks,” Tweedy says. “And then we got together for two weeks in February and thought initially that we’d just be seeing if we could make anything that would beat the things that are on the first record. We ended up starting to feel like, well, this is kind of making itself a double record. The songs kind of inform each other.” Except for a few overdubs, the album was recorded live—just the six members playing in the studio together. Essentially, the two discs were recorded and released in five months.
When asked what they might have learned about themselves or the band in the making of Cruel Country, all three guitarists say—in some variation—that they discovered Sansone’s skills on the B-Bender Telecaster. “I’ve never seen that before [from him]; it was pretty mind-blowing,” Tweedy laughs.
Cline continues, “A lot of the really twangy, cool-sounding country-style guitar that you hear on this record is Pat. I don’t think he even deigned to add the B-Bender to the record until Jeff asked him at one point, ‘Do you have a B-Bender Telecaster?’ And it was so successful. He’s such a natural at it that Jeff asked him for it again and again on song after song.”
Nels Cline’s Gear
Nels Cline wiggles the vibrato arm on his main guitar, a 1960 Fender Jazzmaster that he’s dubbed “the Watt.”
Photo by Jim Bennett
Guitars
1930s National square-neck resonator
Duesenberg lap steel (with B- and G-Bender levers)
1940s National resonator with Bakelite neck
Early ’50s Epiphone Electar
Mule Resonators “The Mavis” electric resonator
1960 Jazzmaster aka “The Watt”
Neptune 12-string
Fano SP6 by Dennis Fano, with custom-designed Duneland Labs hum-canceling pickups
Amp
- Milkman Creamer with 50W Jupiter 12" speaker
Effects
- Moyo Volume pedal
- Boss CS-3 Compression Sustainer
- Walrus Audio Voyager overdrive
- Vintage MXR Phase 45
- EarthQuaker Devices Disaster Transport delay
- EarthQuaker Devices Aqueduct vibrato
- Big Foot FX Magnavibe
Strings, Picks & Cables
- GHS Boomers (.012 sets; “The Mavis” has flatwounds)
- Dunlop Ultex 1.14 mm
- Bluebird picks borrowed from Pat
- Divine Noise cables
“I’ve always loved that sound,” says Sansone, “and I certainly admire the great players. Clarence White was a genius and one of my favorite guitarists. And I’m a big fan of Marty Stuart’s guitar playing. It’s something that I learned that I really like to play, and it’s something that I definitely want to get better at.”
Of all the songs on the record, Sansone names “Mystery Binds,” a dreamy folk-rock ballad with plenty of texture, as one of his favorites. “That’s the song that Jeff had sent to us in the dark days of the pandemic when we were still working remotely. I immediately took to that song. I thought it had a really unique and beautiful mood and was something a bit different than anything I’d heard Jeff send us. ‘Many Worlds’ is another favorite. That was Nels and I playing together and kind of playing off each other, and that’s always a thrill—to be able to do that with him.”
Cline and Sansone say that “Many Worlds,” despite how kaleidoscopic its sonic architecture might seem given the abundance of effects and instrumentation, was recorded live like the rest of the album. Sansone actually got up in the middle of the song to switch from piano to guitar. “[We wanted to] see if we could play it live,” Tweedy shares. “We tried it, and you can hear us moving around on the track. But it all becomes a part of the thing that you can’t fake—ensemble-based playing.”
“One friend of my wife’s and mine who’s French once compared my lead guitar playing to the voice of Edith Piaf.”—Nels Cline
The three guitarists in the band have found their own ways to complement each other. Cline is often thought of as the lead guitarist, with Sansone typically alternating between back-up guitar and keys. Tweedy sets the tone at the front, either with rhythm strumming or fingerpicking. On Cruel Country, however, Cline comments that Sansone took the role of lead guitar on many songs with his B-Bender, and Tweedy says that his primary goal was to be a solid country strummer.
“One person I think is really good at that, oddly enough, is Bob Dylan. I like the drive that he has on his records when he’s playing acoustic guitar,” Tweedy opines. “I like Buck Owens and country recordings where it’s not even a specific player—it’s just a style of playing where the guitar becomes part of the rhythm section, almost like a tambourine or something.” The guitars Tweedy used on the album were all Martins, including his 1944 D-28, 1933 OM-18, and 1931 OM-28.
The axes Cline played on the album include a 1930s National square-neck resonator, a Duesenberg lap steel, a Neptune electric 12-string, and his main guitar, the 1960 Jazzmaster known as “the Watt.” Cline, whose background includes experimental and avant-garde jazz, names Electric Ladyland by the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Meditations by John Coltrane, and Solstice by Ralph Towner as three of his top albums. He also mentions that since age 10 he’s been fascinated and inspired by Indian classical music, and that among his many, many influences on the guitar is Peter Frampton—one he says journalists tend to leave out.
Pat Sansone’s Gear
Pat Sansone’s B-Bender-equipped Telecaster became an essential part of the new Wilco record, helping to put the steel-guitar sound of country into the new Cruel Country.
Photo by Jordi Vidal
Guitars
Tokai Telecaster with B-Bender
1963 Epiphone Casino
1988 Rickenbacker Roger McGuinn 370/12 12-string
Amp
- Vintage Fender Deluxe
Effects
- ’70s Ibanez Phase Tone II
Strings, Picks & Cables
- Assorted D’Addario sets
- Bluebird picks (made from 1930s Argentinian poker chips by Pat’s brother-in-law)
- Divine Noise cables
Cline describes himself as versatile and isn’t sure his jazz roots influence what he records with Wilco. “I try to change what I play based on what I think the song is asking for, or quite often what Jeff specifically asked for. I don’t know that I have any voice that I could zero in on. I’m many voices.One friend of my wife’s and mine who’s French once compared my lead guitar playing to the voice of Edith Piaf. I think it’s because of what I call the wiggle—my fast vibrato which is inspired by John Cipollina from Quicksilver Messenger Service and Tom Verlaine from Television.”
Sansone—whose favorite albums include Revolver, Odessey and Oracleby the Zombies, and Third/Sister Lovers by Big Star—describes his approach: “I have a tendency to go toward melodic figures, finding places where counter-melodies can support the arrangement, or melodic bits on the guitar that help connect different parts of the song. That’s probably where my style and my sensibilities are maybe most unique in the group.” The B-Bender-equipped instrument he used on the album was a Tokai Telecaster. He also played a 1963 Epiphone Casino and a 1988 reissue Roger McGuinn 12-string Rickenbacker. In the studio, he prefers using a Swart Atomic Space Tone amp. “It’s just a small amp, low voltage, one 10" speaker, but it has a beautiful tone. It takes pedals very well, so it’s easy to get a range of tones at low volume.”
Wilco’s songs have always begun with Tweedy. He has some methods of writing that help him along the path of fine-tuning his work, including sharing his ideas with the band. “When I play my songs for the rest of the band, I start to hear them with other people’s ears. It kind of provides at least a little moment of objectivity, ’cause I can hear ’em and forget that I made them up,” he shares. His songwriting is defined by the simple notion that he can’t not be himself while composing. “And at some point, you try to be yourself on purpose,” he elaborates. “I can’t really extract myself from it anymore. It’s just a thing that I do, and it results in a thing that has some ‘me-ness’ to it. Like some ‘Jeff-ness.’
“When I play my songs for the rest of the band, I start to hear them with other people’s ears.”—Jeff Tweedy
“I like reading a lot, I like listening to records, and I generally do both until I can’t take it anymore and I feel like I need to do something of my own,” he continues. “I need to answer that call to add my own voice to the [mix]. It’s just inspiring when you spend time with other people’s consciousnesses.”
In the nearly 40 years he’s been performing as a professional recording artist, Tweedy’s ambitions haven’t really changed. “All the decisions I feel have been mostly centered around, ‘What path do we take that will allow us to do this tomorrow?’ I mean, first, if you can’t picture it, it can’t happen. Even ‘I want to be a songwriter,’ to me, is a little bit more intangible than ‘I want to write a song.’ That’s a manageable goal, and all your big dreams are built on those manageable goals. Because if you don’t do those, other things don’t happen.”
YouTube It
Pat Sansone lays down some heavy twang with his Fender Telecaster in this three-guitar-frontline performance of “Falling Apart (Right Now),” from Wilco’s new Cruel Country, at the band’s Solid Sound festival 2022 in North Adams, Massachusetts.
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The experience of locking in with the Hawkins brothers for an hour of conversation is not unlike absorbing their gonzo, wildly effervescent take on classic hard rock. To be sure, Justin, 49, the band’s frontman and de facto lead guitarist, and Dan, 48, who plays guitar, produces, and contributes backing vocals, keep you on your toes.
An instance of deep creative insight will jump-cut to a well-executed crude joke with a set-up involving slide guitar, which Justin taught himself to play during Covid lockdown in standard tuning, “not the G cheating tuning.” Passages of admirable self-reflection are interspersed with a freewheeling riff on Kid Rock and a debate about the finer points of crawling up one’s own arse. It’s kind of a blast.
The sad inability of critics and even audiences to reconcile fantastic hard rock with a sense of humor has dogged the Darkness throughout its existence, to the point where Dan believes the “classic rock community” only really came around to the band after Justin and drummer Rufus Taylor performed in Taylor Hawkins’ all-star tribute in 2022. “Finally, ‘Okay, these guys aren’t actually just fucking around,’” says Dan. Fair enough, but what exactly are they doing?
The Darkness’ new album, Dreams on Toast, their eighth LP overall and sixth since reforming in 2011, is quite possibly their strongest set yet. In its wide-ranging, often surprising charms, it somehow manages to muddy the waters even further while also firming up an ethos—namely, that the Darkness are smart rock and pop mastercraftsmen who contain multitudes. Or, as Dan describes their M.O.: “We can do whatever the fuck we want, whenever we want, and we don’t have to worry about it.” Adds Justin, “The funny thing is what we actually want to do is just write timeless songs.”
Dreams on Toast, the British hard-rock band’s eighth full-length, is a testament to their indefatigable belief in the melding of hard-rock riffage with humor.
Justin Hawkins’ Gear
Guitars
- Atkin JH3001
- Atkin Mindhorn JH3000
- Dan’s red Gibson ES-355
- Dan’s Epiphone Casino (for slide)
- Atkin acoustic
- Brook Tavy acoustic
- Taylor 12-string
Justin and Dan’s Amps
- Ampete amp/cab switcher
- Vox AC30 head
- Mesa/Boogie Dual Rectifier
- 1959 Marshall plexi Super Lead
- Marshall 1987X
- Friedman Smallbox
- Friedman BE-100 Deluxe
- Marshall cab with Celestion Greenbacks
Effects
- Boss SD-1 Super Overdrive
- SoloDallas Schaffer Replica
Strings & Picks
- Rotosound Roto Yellows .010s
- Dunlop Tortex .73 mm
Dreams on Toast boasts moments of quintessential Darkness—in, say, “Walking Through Fire,” a hooky rock ’n’ roll behemoth that pays plainspoken tribute to the power of … rock ’n’ roll—and gets even more meta with a winky line about wasting time “shooting yet another shitty video.” For those who’ve followed the band from the start, it can evoke the shock of discovering the Darkness on MTV in 2004, when they were an exuberant burst of Queen-inspired virtuosity amidst so much overwrought post-punk and stylized garage rock. (“I fucking hate videos. I don’t even know why we bother,” shrugs Justin, the centerpiece of several of the most memorable rock vids of the 21st century.)
Elsewhere, Dreams on Toast has a knack for subverting expectations. “The Longest Kiss” leans into the progressive-pop facility of Jeff Lynne, Sparks, or Harry Nilsson. “Hot on My Tail” and “Cold Hearted Woman” are deft examples of rootsy pop writing, finding a niche between honky tonk and transatlantic folk. “The Battle for Gadget Land” engages in campy rap-rock, as if satirizing the nu metal that thrived when the Darkness was founded. It also betrays a British punk influence—a vestige, the brothers ponder, of their father’s excellent musical tastes and his decision to play his sons Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols. Bewilderingly, “Weekend in Rome” features a voice-over by the actor Stephen Dorff.
But the album’s absolute highlights belong to the signature balance that allows the Darkness to remain instantly identifiable while also being custodians of rock’s various traditions. “Rock and Roll Party Cowboy” seems to revel in macho rock clichés, until you notice a reference to Tolstoy in the chorus and realize that the badass at the center of the narrative is in reality a stone-cold loser. “There’s a line in there, which gives it away,” Justin explains, “where he says, ‘Where the ladies at?’” The truth hurts: “The party he’s describing is a disaster.”“The funny thing is what we actually want to do is just write timeless songs.” —Justin Hawkins
The same savvy defines “I Hate Myself,” a punked-up barroom-glam throwback that tackles heartbreak and self-contempt. The song also has a buzzed-about video in which Justin appears, unrecognizable, as a man who wears his grief, vanity, and insecurity on his face as questionable plastic surgery. The clip is startling, cinematic, and willfully not very much fun. Consequently it’s inspired pushback, even within the band. “I think on this record, from the recording to the videos and everything, I think we’re challenging people,” Justin says. “We’re trying to explore genres and visual ideas that we haven’t done before. Like, there’s only two of us on the album cover; me and Dan aren’t even on it.
“It’s like we’re doing everything differently, and in ways that make people go, ‘Well, what the fuck is this?’ I think we’re hopefully positioning ourselves as a band that cares about the art.”
The brothers Hawkins in action. They wrote the songs for Dreams on Toast on an acoustic guitar, face-to-face.
Photo by Gareth Parker
Fraternal Dynamics
Following 2021’s Motorheart, which was built piecemeal in the throes of the pandemic, Dreams on Toast is a welcome return to (literal) face-to-face collaboration. “Pretty much everything on the album was written on an acoustic, me facing Justin,” Dan says. “Holding my gaze,” adds Justin, with a straight face.
“We have quite a lot of success when I’ve just got an acoustic and I’m thrashing away,” Dan posits, though “thrashing away” isn’t quite fair. In fact, the through line tying Dreams on Toast to landmark Darkness singles like “I Believe in a Thing Called Love,” “Christmas Time (Don’t Let the Bells End),” or “Love Is Only a Feeling” is the precision of the craft—the sheer perfection of the sonics and the shape of each song, the seamlessness with which an intro becomes a verse and then a bridge before an earworm chorus breaks down the door. Track after track.
“I think we’ve always been good at arranging,” Dan says. “Sorry to blow our own trumpets, but I think that comes from Justin and my musical upbringing.” To wit: Fleetwood Mac’s pop-rock masterpiece Rumours was on heavy rotation at home. At the outset of his career, after he’d been a drummer and a bass player, Dan only “started playing guitar properly as a session player,” he says. “And that kind of taught me a lot about placing things, when to do things and when not to.
“The only reason I can play guitar is because I wanted to work out how songs were written,” he adds later. At one point during the chat, Justin mentions his experience writing and producing music for commercial clients—something he and his brother continue to partake in, in specific under-the-radar situations. He maintains that work doesn’t inform the Darkness too much, though he does allow that it furthers their understanding of the architecture of songs. “We learn about how they’re built,” he says, “what’s happening underneath the bonnet.”
In the end, Dan explains, the band doesn’t chase down a song in the studio until it’s been properly worked out. “Because there’s no point, is there?” Justin says. A delightful exchange about turds, and the pursuit of polishing them, ensues.
“The only reason I can play guitar is because I wanted to work out how songs were written.” —Dan Hawkins
Dan Hawkins’ Gear
Guitars
- 2000 Gibson Les Paul Standard
- Gibson ES-355
Effects
- Ibanez TS9 and TS808 Tube Screamers
- SoloDallas Schaffer Replica
- Keeley Caverns
- Keeley Katana Boost
Strings & Picks
- Rotosound Roto Greys .011s
- Dunlop Nylon .73 mm
Dreams on Toast features the band’s current lineup with the rhythm tandem of Rufus Taylor, the son of Queen drummer Roger Taylor, and bassist Frankie Poullain. It was produced by Dan, who helms his well-appointed Hawkland Studios in Sussex, England.
Unprompted, he shows us around via Zoom, and in his lighthearted practicality, you get a sense of the study in contrast that the Hawkins brothers have presented since they were boys in the English seaside town of Lowestoft. (For an intimate look at their relationship and the band’s hard-won return, check out the 2023 documentary, Welcome to the Darkness, which will be available on platforms in the States starting in mid April.) The conventional wisdom dictates that Justin is the YouTube personality, the opinionated fount of charisma, falsetto, and unforgettable guitar leads, and Dan is the engine room, the pragmatist and a rhythm ace in the mold of his hero Malcolm Young. It’s definitely not that cut-and-dried; Dan, despite his modesty, can put together a great solo, too, and they’re both affable and entertaining, with the pluck to have forged ahead through physical and personal challenges. But it’s true enough.
“I’ve been in my studio for eight hours a day working on my guitar rig for this next tour,” Dan says, feigning salty exasperation. “I’ve spent so much money.” Enter Justin: “And I learned how to go snowboarding.” Dan is interested in the guitar for “what it is capable of sonically, not necessarily emotionally,” he says. “I imagine that’s like the opposite of how I see it,” his brother replies. “That’s why it works!” says Dan.
“As soon as the amp question comes up … I don’t even know what my settings are,” Justin admits. “I’m more concerned about guitars, and I think Dan’s more concerned about amps.”
Dan the amp man: The younger Hawkins brother manages “Tonehenge,” the wall of amplifiers at his studio which he and his sibling use.
Photo by Gareth Parker
Visiting Tonehenge
Actually, Justin’s response to the amp question is terrific: “You could just send him a picture of the Tonehenge,” he says to his brother, referring to a mouth-watering monument of heads and cabs in Dan’s studio. Dan goes on to explain his wall of sound and how he uses an Ampete switcher to explore various combinations. On Dreams on Toast, he says, we’re hearing plenty of Marshall and Friedman—which “take care of the EL34 stuff”—as well as a Mesa/Boogie Dual Rectifier and a handwired Vox AC30 head that “played a major role.” Dan doesn’t feel compelled to “pull out loads of weird combos,” he says, because “we’ve got a big sound that we need to portray pretty much straight away.” Mission complete.
Guitar-wise, the big takeaway on Dreams on Toast is that we’re hearing less Les Paul than we might be used to on a Darkness record. Dan continues to swear by his 2000 Les Paul Standard, whose high-output 498 humbucker has had a huge impact on the consistency of his sound. “It’s only in recent years that I realized you could actually pull the volume back” and achieve the tone of “a really nice old Les Paul,” he says. His strings have thinned out to .011–.052 after he’d bloodied his fingers one too many times using .013–.054 sets with a wound G.
For his part, Justin has largely moved away from the white Les Paul Customs that became an indelible part of his image long ago, settling into a fruitful partnership with the English brand Atkin, whose esteemed reputation for handcrafted acoustics shouldn’t overwhelm its versatile lineup of electrics. “I know I’ve sort of become synonymous with the white Les Paul, and that’s good; I think every generation should have a white Les Paul player,” he says cheekily. “But maybe my time is gone now. Maybe it’s somebody else’s turn.”
Justin enjoys his Atkin signature models: the Frankenstrat-indebted JH3001 and the JH3000 Mindhorn, an offset with two humbuckers and an LP-style bridge. “I’ve always loved Strats,” he says, beginning to describe his concept for the JH3001. “I’ve always enjoyed the tonal variety, and the way they play is interesting.” But signature instruments are opportunities to correct annoyances and combine archetypes, and so it goes with the 3001.
He wanted a floating, Floyd Rose-style bridge, which would allow him to do dive bombs “and all the things I’ve been teaching myself to do,” he says. (Those shred moves impress as smartly deployed accents to tracks like “Rock and Roll Party Cowboy.”) Justin had long been frustrated with the standard pickup-selector location on Strats and “wanted the electronics to resemble more closely what the Les Pauls do.” A 3-way toggle for two handwound humbuckers can be found on the upper horn, and the wiring is visible via a transparent Perspex pickguard—an homage, perhaps, to Justin’s lovingly remembered Dan Armstrong acrylic guitar (for which he had only the Country Bass pickup). The JH3001, Justin says, is a “FrankenPaul, if you will,” or, as Dan recommends, a “Lesocaster.” The Mindhorn, whose offset body might strike you as a meld of Firebird and Fender, offers Justin the reliability of a Tune-o-matic-type bridge; on other offsets he’s played, like a Jaguar, he’d pick so hard the strings would pop out of their saddles. “Also, the selector’s in the right place for me,” he says.
He also leans on his brother’s collection. One of his go-to instruments for his flourishing slide skills is Dan’s old Epiphone Casino. And Justin explains that Dan’s red Gibson ES-355 was the axe of choice for two of his hardest-hitting solos on the record: the twinned-up lines of “The Longest Kiss” and the breakaway Angus-isms of “I Hate Myself.”
“We’ve got a big sound that we need to portray pretty much straight away.” —Dan Hawkins
Justin’s signature Atkins JH3000 Mindhorn, wielded here, has forced his recognizable white Les Paul into a supporting role.
Photo by Gareth Parker
Solo Break
Which brings us to the choreographed majesty of Justin’s solos across the Darkness catalog—masterpieces in miniature, as hooky and bulletproof as the songs they complement. Justin expounds on his process: “When I’m trying to build a solo, we normally just run the track and I have a go. And usually, I’m going 100 miles an hour, finding phrases and trying to modify them so they don’t sound like where I’ve nicked them from. But the most important thing is that you can sing along to it, so it becomes a countermelody.” He thinks technical dazzle can work beautifully in a solo, but only when it’s held in judicious balance among less-showy principles. “The thing that sets the great guitarists apart from the other ones is the expression,” he says. “I’m talking about dynamics and vibrato.”
His lodestars of lead playing include Mark Knopfler, whose “Tunnel of Love” solo “shows you an infinite number of harmonic choices” atop a straightforward chord sequence. “It’s full of ideas,” he says. “None of it’s showing off; it’s all logic.” Other favorites are similarly thoughtful rockers, among them Brian May and Jeff Beck.
He digs EVH too, though those concepts came later. “There was a guitar teacher in Lowestoft that would teach everybody how to do that—the tapping and all the things that Eddie Van Halen invented,” he recalls. “I didn’t go to that guitar teacher. I was more interested in blues playing, really, and that kind of expression. It wasn’t until later that I thought, ‘Ah, fuck, I kind of wish I’d learned that properly.’ Because now I’m asking my guitar tech how to do it.”
His brother’s lead playing is an inspiration as well, in its ability to surprise and draw contours that Justin simply would not. “He makes interesting choices,” Justin says, “and then I always scratch my head and go, ‘Wow, I would never have thought to play that note.’ So I try and sometimes I think, ‘What would Dan do?’”
YouTube It
Watch the Darkness rip a trio of exuberant rock ’n’ roll romps to a massive festival audience.
Charlie Worsham was just wrapping up some tracking down at Sony Studios in Nashville when PG’s John Bohlinger caught up with him for a look at what tools he packs for a recording gig. Worsham had with him some of his most treasured acoustics, electrics, mandolins, banjos, and more, plus a collection of primo picks for all applications. Check out the highlights below.
Brought to you by D’Addario.
Guitar So Nice, He Bought It Twice
This 1963 Martin D-28, gifted to him from his parents, was Worsham’s first serious vintage guitar. Around 12 years ago, he took it into a shop for a refret, and after a freak in-store accident left it in pieces, Worsham accepted a check for the guitar’s value, and walked away.
A while later, he noticed it hanging on the wall of the same store—reassembled and fit for service again. Worsham couldn’t help himself; he bought it back, making it “the guitar so nice, [he] acquired it twice.”
He runs it with D’Addario XS strings and likes bluegrass gauges: mediums for the E, A, and D strings, and lights for the G, B, and high E strings. It’s kitted out with an LR Baggs HiFi pickup. And the scratches around the soundhole and pickguard? Those came courtesy of John Osborne’s heavy picking hand.
Check, Please
Worsham reckons he’s probably played this treasured Gibson J-50 on more records than any other guitar he owns. After he took the check from the busted Martin D-28, he used it to buy this one.
Family Jewel
This Parker mando used to belong to John Osborne, Worsham’s former bandmate. Worsham was always borrowing this mandolin, so when Osborne decided to sell it, Worsham picked it up to keep it in the family.
Burkett from ’Bama
This mini Burkett was built by luthier James Burkett in Alabama. Its nut is equivalent to a capo on the third fret of a regular acoustic.
Tune in to the full video to see Worsham’s Ohm open-back banjo, P-90-equipped Gibson mandolin, an Osborne-owned Strat, and a super-special wedding-gift ES-335 from Vince Gill.
Tweed Fit for a Prince(ton)
Worsham took Tom Bukovac’s wisdom and got himself a Fender Princeton Reverb, which he still loves, and he runs it alongside a Nashville Amp Works clone of a golden-era tweed Fender Deluxe.
Charlie Worsham’s Pedalboard
At his feet, Worsham runs a pedalboard with a Sonic Research ST-300 tuner, Browne Amplification Protein, Mythos Mjolnir, Guyatone ST2, Electro-Harmonix Canyon, Neunaber Immerse, Strymon El Capistan, and Chase Bliss Warped Vinyl HiFi.
