The doomgaze titans from Texas hit the road this year to celebrate more than two decades together, and they brought some of their favorite noisemakers for the occasion.
Post-rock/doomgaze outfit This Will Destroy You, formed in San Marcos, Texas, in 2004, are marking 21 years together, and 20 years of their self-recorded debut Young Mountain, with an anniversary tour. In late June, the band played Nashville’s Basement East, where guitarists Jeremy Galindo and Nicholas Huft and bassist Ethan Billips met up with PG’s Chris Kies to share what gear they packed for the roadtrip.
Galindo started off playing electric on his brother’s FenderTelecaster, and he’s never looked back. He’s played various models over the years, but got this Fender American Performer Telecaster two years ago. He strings it with .011–.052 strings for slightly more body and fullness, and tunes it to E-flat standard. Galindo mostly plays with his fingers, but when he picks he uses some of the thinnest picks he can find.
No Tubes? No Problems
A Music Man HD-130 is Galindo’s always-and-forever, but on the road, he likes this Roland Jazz Chorus 120 for its tubeless reliability and easy clean sounds.
Jeremy Galindo’s Pedalboard
The Boss DD-20 Giga Delay and Tech 21 Boost R.V.B. have been with Galindo since the early days, and he considers the Tech 21 to be the most essential tool of his kit. Aside from those, there’s a Walrus Canvas Tuner, Ernie Ball VP JR, Friday Club Fury 6-Six, Walrus Jupiter, Walrus Fundamental Ambient, Boss RE-20, and Mr. Black Deluxe Plus. A Walrus Aetos powers the party.
Smooth as Sandpaper
This Fender Jazzmaster, Huft’s first, was bought from Full of Hell guitarist Spencer Hazard, who equipped it with its “awful sandpaper texture” finish. Huft doesn’t use the rhythm circuit, so he’s taped it off. He plays with both pickups engaged at all times, including the humbucker rail pickup in the bridge.
United Solid-States
Huft has a soft spot for 1970s solid-state amplification, which makes this Peavey Standard Mark III series a perfect match for TWDY: It’s cheap, and it’s loud.
Nicholas Huft’s Pedalboard
Along with an ABY switcher, Huft runs a Boss TU-3, Ernie Ball VP JR, Gremlin Machine Shop Worshiper, Dead Air Portrayal of Guilt/Matt King Dual Drive, Boss DD-200, Boss RC-500, Red Panda Context, Boss DD-3T, Beautiful Noise Exploder, and Walrus Slo.
Cheap and Cheerful
Billips explains that he and his bandmates grew up on cheap instruments, and they still feel like home, so that’s why he rocks with this Marcus Miller Sire bass.
Community Cranker
Billips and his bandmates split on this Darkglass Electronics Microtubes 500 v2 head, which they share collectively.
Ethan Billips’ Pedalboard
Billips runs an Ernie Ball VP JR Tuner, a prototype bass overdrive from Mr. Black, a Death by Audio Bass War, Walrus Badwater, Danelectro Talk Back, Catalinbread Topanga, and a Radial BigShot ABY.
In this video, some of your favorite players—Marty Friedman, Jared James Nichols, Steve Reis, and Nate Garrett—share personal stories that go back to the beginning of their guitar journeys when Black Sabbath riffs constructed their musical foundation.
He’s Worked with Taylor Swift and Michael Jackson. Now, Dann Huff Steps Out on His Own.
He’s Worked with Taylor Swift and Michael Jackson. Now, Dann Huff Steps Out on His Own.
You wouldn’t expect Dann Huff, one of the most renowned studio guitarists, to feel nervous sharing his debut solo LP with a friend. But when that friend happens to be Toto’s Steve Lukather, a permanent fixture on the Mount Rushmore of L.A. session players, it’s easy to understand the butterflies.
“He said, ‘I want to hear your record,’” recalls Huff, 64, with a laugh, detailing the creation of the colorful and lovingly arranged When Words Aren’t Enough. “I said, ‘Sure, I’ll send it to you.’ Then as soon as I pressed send, I went into this almost-fetal position mentally. I thought, ‘I just sent it to one of the people I value so highly in my life.’ But it was great, the fact that I felt the fear.”
That story crystalizes the skills that propelled Huff to this moment: the confidence and curiosity it took to press that button, but also the humility it took to still feel those healthy nerves. After all, you have to be great—but also a flexible team player—to rack up the credits this guy has. And he’s had a career like few others in the business, both in the styles he’s explored and the roles he’s served: Huff rose up the ranks of the fertile ’80s session scene, where he recorded with everyone from Michael Jackson to Kenny Rogers, has played in both a contemporary Christian rock band (White Heart) and an AOR outfit (Giant), journeyed back to his hometown of Nashville and immersed himself in the pop-country world (Shania Twain, Faith Hill), ventured into marquee-level production work (most famously on Taylor Swift’s 2012 blockbuster, Red), and now—finally—released a fascinating album of his own.
“As soon as I pressed send, I went into this almost-fetal position mentally. I thought, ‘I just sent it to one of the people I value so highly in my life.’ But it was great, the fact that I felt the fear.”
When Words Aren’t Enough nods to so much of that range, moving from simmering dixie funk to cinematic orchestral rock to atmospheric and artful Americana. It sounds like the work of an artist stretching every single muscle yet never straining in the flex—a series of clean and jerks that sound awfully clean. But you can’t talk about this ambitious endeavor without exploring its true roots. “This project for me is basically a love letter to my emerging years, which is the late ’70s,” Huff says. “It’s everything that I built upon, everything that I love in guitar playing.”
The groundwork was laid when Huff was a kid. When he was around 10, his parents moved from the Chicago area to Nashville—with three sons and a whopping $800 to their name—as Dann’s dad, Ronn, pursued a career in orchestration. (“Man, he had some big cojones to do that!” Dann says, accurately.) The elder Huff’s career took off, and he found work with the Nashville Symphony, as well as occasionally in recording studios with rhythm sections. The latter intrigued his son, whose interest in the guitar started to grow around age 12. Dann had felt a sense of culture shock in Tennessee, but music became his guiding light. The more he glimpsed of his father’s work life, the clearer his path became. “My dad had a friend who was a session guitar player in Nashville named John Darnell, and he asked if [John] would come over and spend maybe 30 minutes to an hour with his 13-year-old son,” he recalls. “He came over one night, and I’ll never forget it. He taught me some scales and a couple chords. He kind of lit the fuse, and that was it.”
As an aspiring guitarist, the young Huff had the perfect entry point. His dad would offer to let him sit in the back of the room at the studio, where he’d meet “the cream of the crop” session players in Nashville—guitarists like Reggie Young, Pete Wade, and Dale Sellers. “To me, those were the rock stars,” he says. “You could go into a dark-lit studio, hear music for the first time, and make something new. I just thought that was the coolest thing. Why? I have no idea. There was no illusion that I wanted to go and be a rock star. Not even in the slightest, when I was a kid.”
When Words Aren’t Enough is rooted in the music of the ’70s—Huff’s formative listening and learning years.
“This project is a love letter to my emerging years, which is the late ’70s. It’s everything that I built upon, everything that I love in guitar playing.”
As a high-schooler in the mid ’70s, after years of practicing his chops in the basement, that dream started to become real. He played on friends’ demos at the local Belmont University, and he soaked in torrents of incredible instrumental music of that era: Larry Carlton, Lee Ritenour, Jeff Beck’sBlow by Blow, and Al Di Meola’sElegant Gypsy, as well as Steely Dan’s Aja. “The list could go on, but it was so diverse," he says. “I was inundated with all these different kinds of music, all the Motown stuff. Everything interested me. And all of the sudden I started seeing these West Coast session players.” After playing on an album by singer-songwriter Greg Guidry, he was directly connected to some of those musicians, including former Toto bassist David Hungate. He was eventually hired for an L.A. session with soul legend Lou Rawls, kicking off a period of frequent commuting.
“At the time, Steve Lukather had all but vacated his chokehold—he was simply just the very best—because he was becoming a rock star,” Huff says. “I started booking myself on sessions. Back in the early ’80s, they still used contractors for a lot of the pop sessions. I said, ‘Just book me like I live out here.’” He would go out for stretches at a time, making a name for himself in L.A., but realized that this process wasn’t sustainable: “I didn’t realize I could charge for my hotels, my rental cars,” he says. “I did my own cartage. If I booked a session, my expenses would usually surmount that by 100 percent. But I was smart enough to realize I was investing in something, and it became apparent over the course of a year that I couldn’t keep hopping on planes, playing on big records in L.A., and coming back to play on demos in Nashville.” Around age 21, he and his new wife hopped on a plane and headed west, starting the next chapter of his life.
The ’80s flew by in a stream of sessions: Michael Jackson’s Bad, Barbra Streisand’s Emotion, Chaka Khan’s I Feel for You, Bob Seger’s Like a Rock, Whitney Houston’s self-titled, Madonna’s True Blue—every situation was different, and the ever-curious Huff learned something from almost all of them. “It was one of those perfect storms,” he says of this prolific time. But after the unexpected success of Giant, his melodic rock band featuring his brother David on drums, following the release of their 1989 debut, Last of the Runaways, he decided to move his talents back to Nashville. “I felt I didn’t need to do my studio career anymore,” he recalls. “[My wife] and I had just had our first kid, a daughter, and we felt, ‘As long as I’m gonna be doing this rock thing,’ which I’d never dreamt of doing, ‘we might as well do it from the comfort of where the rest of our families are,’ so we moved back to Nashville and I left my studio career. We cut a second Giant record, and by that point, Nirvana and Pearl Jam were out, so say no more.” Rather than move back to Los Angeles, he quickly found a niche in the Nashville scene, particularly within the world of country-pop/rock, playing on a series of enormous records—including a pair of multi-platinum monsters by Shania Twain, 1995’s The Woman in Me and 1997’s Come on Over, both produced by the singer’s revered then-husband, Robert “Mutt” Lange.
Toto guitarist Steve Lukather was one of the first to hear Huff’s new collection. After Huff sent it, he was petrified—but the fear was invigorating.
Photo by Nathan Chapman
“I don’t have any illusions of what I can do on the guitar, so I have to dig deep into what I actually have roots in.”
Huff was once again ingrained in the session world—just a very different one—but Lange noticed his potential in another field. "I didn’t get into producing records because I wanted to," Huff admits. "I was lured into it, or encouraged into it, mainly by Mutt Lange. He sensed that the way I played studio guitar, I knew that it wasn’t about me. It’s about building something.” And that sense of songcraft, of having an eagle eye for arrangement and talent, served him well when he made that jump, working with artists like Swift, Rascal Flatts, and even Megadeth. It also wound up informing his first solo LP, When Words Aren’t Enough, which came about after some friendly prodding from fellow Nashville musicians Tom Bukovac and Mike Reid.
“Both challenged and embarrassed me: ‘Why don’t you play guitar anymore?’ ‘I play guitar on the records.’ ‘No, why don’t you play guitar?’” he says. “I didn’t have a good answer after saying no for dozens of years. I decided I would give it a rip. I wasn’t in tip-top form of guitar playing at this time, so it was humbling, but it felt right.” He gradually started putting together some demos, drawing on the pivotal period of teenage inspiration that first drew him to this wild life. “Runaway Gypsy” laces jazz-funk riffs with grooving Latin percussion and grand string parts—a cinematic stew that reflects the influence of Al Di Meola. The title of “Southern Synchronicity” is an overt nod to Police guitarist Andy Summers, but the song is way wilder than you’d expect, with shifting time signatures, funky drumming, and the fiery fiddle of Stuart Duncan. Meanwhile, the greasy “Colorado Creepin’” is a tightly coiled, wah-heavy highlight. (“You can probably hear a lot of my love of Jeff Beck,” notes Huff.) Every track—featuring the core of Huff, bassist Mark Hill, and drummer Jerry Roe—is virtuosic but tasteful, placing every show-stopping solo within the context of a hooky melody and satisfying musical arc.
Fellow sessions aces Tom Bukovac and Mike Reid prodded Huff into recording and releasing his own original music.
Photo by Nathan Chapman
Often utilizing large chunks of his demos, they knocked out the bulk of basic recording in a couple days—and that no-nonsense approach fits for a guy who spent decades as a quick-on-his-feet hired gun. The process made Huff “fall in love again” with his Stratocaster, which he hadn’t played for years, but the recording was intentionally bare-bones. “It wasn’t about amplifiers or all the equipment,” he says. “I used very little equipment on the record. When you’re trying to say something, just say it how you’re gonna say it.
“The gift of being older and not being, shall we say, in my ‘prime form’—my chops aren’t as fluid as they were when I was playing 10 hours a day—is that I had to define what I was interested in before I did this,” he says. “And what I’ve always been drawn to in music—and I saw a connection here—is composition. When the shape, the form, the melody, the dynamics, are correct, that allows you to improvise over it in a way that isn’t gratuitous or about you trying to prove yourself. I don’t have any illusions of what I can do on the guitar, so I have to dig deep into what I actually have roots in.”
He also wound up enormously proud of the record—but that’s not to say he didn’t feel anxious about it, illustrated by his exchange with the great Lukather.
“I went through a period after I finished this thing where I was absolutely terrified,” he admits. “I guess anybody would. It’s hard to hear yourself from another perspective. I can listen to other guitar players or musicians, and I just want to hear who they are. I’m critical, but with my music, it’s like, I know where the warts are, and I hear the limitations. It’s hard to hear it for what it is, but I thought, ‘If I don’t let go of this thing and stop trying to impress myself or everybody else, I’m never gonna do this.’ So I said, ‘Fuck it. I’m gonna put it out.’ So I let go, and that was the best decision I could have made.”
YouTube It
In this two-and-a-half-hour video courtesy of Vertex Effects, Dann Huff does a deep dive on his most recognizable guitar parts over the decades.
The big-toned guitarist talks about his latest songs, discovering the allure of acoustic guitar, and the power of dividing by two.
Joe Bonamassa tends to go big. Big tones, big solos, big tours, a big gear collection, and a big road backline. His touring B rig boasts two Marshall Silver Jubilees, two Van Weelden Twinklelands, a Dumble Overdrive Special, a Benson rotary speaker, and a pair of his signature Fender High Power Twins. There’s also his A rig. That’s big.
And yet, as Bonamassa spoke from his hotel room in Frankfurt, Germany, he was planning to quietly celebrate his 48th birthday over pizza with his band. Then get a good night’s sleep. And recently he’s truly fallen in love with unplugged acoustic guitar—although when he used one to cut a song for his new album, Breakthrough, he ran it into a Fender DeVille and says, “It just exploded.”
That’s logical. Every great guitarist is a master of dynamics. And that sense of difference and balance reverberates in Breakthrough’s 10 songs, from the hard-edged, riff-driven title track, which features some blasting solos and stellar wah guitar, to the classic soul-pop flavor of “Life After Dark,” with its potent sustain and expressive bends, to the slide-dappled boogie of “Drive By the Exit Sign.”
Like nearly every post-Cream Eric Clapton album, regardless of how steeped in rock, pop hooks, and other flavors Breakthrough’s songs are, there is always the taste of blues, his bedrock, in the palate—whether it’s a lick, or a tone, or phrasing. And like Clapton, he uses expert songwriting to transcend the limitations of the timeless genre in the modern music marketplace. Still, it’s extraordinarily pleasing when Bonamassa goes all in on the slow blues “Broken Record,” a full-hearted essay in expressive playing and singing, evocative of Gary Moore.
When we spoke, Bonamassa talked about how acoustic guitar has impacted his evolution as a guitarist, explained the significance of the new album’s title, his DIY business model, and the power of dividing by two.
Joe Bonamassa digs into his 1962 Gibson ES-335 during a show in Birmingham, Alabama.
Photo by Haluk Gurer
Joe Bonamassa’s Gear
(Note: Joe has similar A and B rigs that are hopscotched to suit tour logistics.)
2 Marshall Silver Jubilee 2555s (presence, 4; bass,10; midrange, 6; treble, 4; out master, 10; lead master, 6; input gain, 5.5; each amp runs through half of a split Van Weelden 4x12 cabinet with Electro-Voice speakers)
2 Van Weeldon Twinkle Lands w/Twinklelator buffered effects loop (volume, 6; bright, on; deep, on; hot, on; treble, 6; midrange, 6.5; bass, 4; level, 6.5; ratio, 7; master, 7; brilliance, 6.5; each amp runs through half of a split Van Weelden 4x12 cabinet with Electro-Voice speakers)
Twinkelator effects loop settings: send, 7; return, 7; bright, off
Dumble Overdrive Special head (volume, 5; British, off; deep, off; rock, on; treble, 4; midrange, 6; bass, 4; overdrive level, 4; ratio, 6.5; master, 4; presence, 6; into 2x12 with TC Electronic Stereo Chorus)
Benson Rotary Speaker
2 Fender signature Joe Bonamassa High Powered Twins (volume 9; bright on; treble, 9; bass; 0, midrange, 9, presence, 7.5)
2 Kikusui PCR2000MA Power Supplies
Joe, when you’re at home hanging out with a guitar in your hands, what do you play?
You know, up until about five or six years ago, my answer would be completely different. I bought a guitar—a 1941 Martin 000-45, and it’s mint. It’s the one they based my model on. And it was so clean that I couldn’t play it. It’s so preserved. And right after that, I got a 1942 000-18 from my friend Jim Hauer in Dayton, Ohio, at Hauer Music. And once I had the neck set and it came back, I was like, “You know what? I get it now. I get the acoustic.” I’ve played a bunch of herringbones and stuff, but I was so focused on electric that acoustics would all sound the same to me. And then at some point, I said, “My God, I get it!” For years, I would just say I’m an electric guitar player, but I had that moment with the acoustic. So when I play at home, I vacillate between two guitars.
I have a room in my house in California … it’s, it’s … well, it’s documented how diseased I am. But if you can picture it, if I’m not playing electric, which is only if I’m working on something, I will pick up a 1929 000-42 Martin or a Joe B. Brazilian that Martin made me. It makes me happy. And I’ve found that my accuracy on the electric has improved by embracing the acoustic. I find, especially in the studio, if I’m producing a record and I’m playing on it, just the changes, my chordal accuracy, is a lot better.
And I finally figured out a way to, especially soloing-wise, embrace what Leslie West told me. Thirty years ago, his advice was to divide by two. He came to the studio in Ithaca, New York, when I was a kid working with Tom Dowd on what would be my first solo album. This was pre-production, and he guested on a track. And he, in that voice, goes: “You know, Joe, you’d be my favorite guitar player if you’d just divide by two.” I’m like, “You mean half as many notes?” He goes, “Right. Keep doing what you’re doing and divide by two.”
“It surprises me when I go into these old tracks live, and they start applauding,” says Bonamassa. “I’m like, ‘I had no idea you guys even knew this song.’”
Photo by Allan Jones
“For years, I would just say I’m an electric guitar player.”
Now, I’ve noticed a change in my playing. Especially when I’m touring and we’re playing big venues over here, I’ve been using “divide by two.” That and the acoustic thing I’ve been embracing for the last, say, 24 to 36 months has been paying off. Every once in a while you break through a frontier you didn’t even know you were gonna break through or didn’t even know existed.
I know I’m a paradox, but when I’m off the road, I try to avoid loud music and crowds. So I don’t play electric at home very loud, and I play these acoustics. When I plug a Les Paul into a Marshall or Fender Strat into a black-panel Princeton, the sounds you expect are going to come up and then it’s up to you to create something. But the acoustic … you’re just kind of wide open. I find that I’m coming up with more original ideas just by not playing electric when I’m home.
Bonamassa uses this humbucker-equipped Telecaster for slide.
Photo by Kit Wood
When you prepare for an album, are there some foundational guideposts or a specific artistic goal you’re working toward?
Historically, it was always like: this is the theme, this is what we’re doing, let’s execute it. And we have five days or seven days to do it. This record was different because I approached this album from the point of view that the world does not need another Joe Bonamassa record. So I’m trying not to repeat myself. That’s why we ended up with 20 songs that got jettisoned; 10 of which got jettisoned because we were like, yeah, I’ve heard that before. And we tried to concentrate on things that I haven’t done before, but when you have 50 albums out, including the live stuff, before you even get to the side projects, it’s hard. I think this is my 17th studio solo album.
We did this in three sessions, in Santorini, Greece; Nashville; and L.A.—with totally different approaches on each. The Santorini stuff has a certain sound because of the way we recorded it and the lack of options. I was just using the studio guitars. Like the song with Sammy Hagar, “Fortune Teller Blues”—the only guitar that was actually going to stay in tune was an Ovation acoustic, so I plugged it into a Fender Hot Rod DeVille, and it just exploded into the mic. I was like, “Okay, now that’s an interesting sound.” I had that and a Slash Les Paul, and I noticed that the pickups were hotter than what I was used to, but I just embraced it.
You just have to wrap your head around it. Any guitar that’s not in your normal comfort zone, just pretend it’s the only guitar you own. Because I bought plenty of guitars over the years from people who played them their whole lives and that’s the only guitar they owned. They did their whole musical life on that one guitar and they figured it out, you know?
Sometimes, having fewer tools is a lot better. A few records ago, I stopped bringing 40 guitars to the studio. How many Telecasters do you need? Pick one that stays in tune. How many Les Pauls do you need? The one you play every day. And then you bring the flavors: the 12-string electric, the acoustic, whatever. And I always bring my live rig and a couple of different things, like an AC30 or some sort of JTM45. Sometimes, as a collector, you’ve got to justify owning all this stuff. It’s like, man, I paid all this money for this thing; I’m gonna play it!
According to an entry on his website, Bonamassa’s collection sports three PAF Gibson Les Paul goldtops and six vintage bursts.
Photo by Eleanor Jane
“Every once in a while you break through a frontier you didn’t even know you were gonna break through or didn’t even know existed.”
Well, you don't have to justify it to me. When I was starting to play, I had a friend who said, “You should have as many guitars as you want.” I took that to heart.
On the internet sometimes, the notion is that I’m depriving other people of having these guitars, because I have such a large collection, one of the biggest in the world. It’s such specious reasoning. How many of these guitars are for sale right now … at the Dallas Guitar show, the Heritage auction, Reverb, eBay, every guitar shop? They’re out there.
I’m surprised by some of the conversations I see about you online from the blues police. Complaints that if Joe wasn’t out there, some old bluesman of note would have those gigs. Except for Buddy Guy, nobody who was a sideman for Muddy Waters has a shot at headlining, say, Royal Albert Hall.
There’s a lack of critical thinking. You know all the gigs that I do, the arenas that we’re playing over here? Do you know who the promoter is? Me. So I’m not taking anybody’s gig. I’m creating my own weather pattern. Twenty years ago, we started promoting our own shows.
It’s proof of concept. Many times was I told, and anybody in this genre has been told, “See those big places over there? Those are not for you. Musicians like you don’t get to play those places.” Well, somebody had to try, and we wouldn’t still be doing that if nobody showed up. I can do everything but make them come out. And if people have a problem with that, if people have a problem with the guitar collecting that I do and the success I’ve had, that’s on them. It’s not on me to apologize for any of it. Because I grew up lower middle class in Utica, New York, and decided that I was gonna do something with my life or die trying. There’s always someone who works harder, who deserves it more than you. You have to just accept that. Then, there’s some luck involved. And what we’re doing as a team is connecting. That’s the records, the production, the marketing, all of it. There’s something there that’s connecting to a wider group of people that don’t normally go to blues shows.
Taking a moment to hold a note at the Hollywood Bowl.
Photo by Christine Goodwin
“I approached this album from the point of view that the world does not need another Joe Bonamassa record.”
You mention a “do or die” attitude. At one point, you were trapped in the blues barbecue joint circuit, before you worked your way out.
It always felt that way. The really magic moment for me was 2009 at the Albert Hall when Eric Clapton came out to play with me, and I will always be extremely grateful to him for that. But you realize that if that was May 5, the day after that show, May 6, we were broke. We had put all of our money in the DVD we made there. And when it came out, it did okay. And we had just enough money to keep the machine going and try to build. And then it hit PBS. And after PBS, life changed about six months later. But when you're watching somebody on a DVD seemingly have it all, sometimes the story behind the scenes is way different than the reality.
Getting back to Breakthrough, it’s an eclectic album, and you’ve been co-writing with some of the most respected songwriters in Nashville roots music, like Tom Hambridge, Gary Nicholson, Keb’ Mo’. And is there something of a personal breakthrough that sparked the title?
I think there is a meaning there. I’m trying not to repeat myself, but not abandon ship. The only thing I’ve abandoned is the notion that anything I’ll do will be pop music at all. I’m a niche guy. I don’t have a radio voice. I’m not looking to get invited to the Met Gala.
I’ve written a lot of songs for other people as well, like Jimmy Hall and Eric Gales. You’ve got to come in with some sort of idea, riff, or a title. A title is great because you can write something about that. A riff is like, “Okay, then what are we going to say?” Then you’ve just got to have a conversation and start riffing on it. You try to find a broader concept and try to make it something that’s personal to you that will also be personal to your co-writer and the audience.
It surprises me when I go into these old tracks, live, and people start applauding. I’m like, “I had no idea you guys even knew this song.” I just assume everything I put out over my life has not been a hit, and we’ve survived and navigated like that, almost like a jam band.”
I’m not looking for a hit. And I don’t want anything to do with that shit that’s coming out of Music Row. None of it. And I’m not looking for radio. So it’s, “Let’s have fun and write a six-minute banger, shall we? With a big fat guitar solo that has no chance of being played on the radio.”
“Any guitar that’s not in your normal comfort zone, just pretend it’s the only guitar you own.”
Bonamassa gets support on bass from the late Michael Rhodes. The guitarist estimates that the Nashville MVP stage and session player appeared on roughly 700 gigs with him.
Photo by Kit Woods
Speaking of big fat guitar solos, my favorite song on the album is “Broken Record.” I’m a sucker for a slow blues, and over its 7 minutes, it goes to a lot of interesting places and has a cool tonal palette. I even like small, nerdy things about it—like the way the delay hangs at the end of the song. How did you put the tonal palette together for that one?
I remember this: The solo that’s on there was basically a placeholder because I got the call to pick up my car at the shop. I’m at the console, dialed up a quick sound, get a call from the mechanic going, “Hey, your car’s ready.” I called the Uber, and as I’m waiting for the Uber to take me to get the car on a Friday afternoon, because I didn’t want to leave it over the weekend, I go, “Let me just give you a placeholder and I'll be back in a half hour.” I come back in a half hour and everybody’s going, “I think that solo’s good.” And I go, “Okay.” And it was literally just stream of consciousness. The whole song—vocals, everything—was done in an afternoon. And that’s the way I like to work. I like to cut in the morning, get the two or three that we’re gonna do that day, buy the band lunch, tell them to fuck off, then I’ll sing and play, and that’s it. You’re gonna sing, play, and once you’re happy, that’s it. If you’re prepared and know how to do it and hit the marks, three takes of vocals, we’ll comp it, done, move on. We’re at dinner by 6 o’clock. I learned that from Kevin Shirley. [The producer who’s frequently collaborated with Bonamassa since 2006’s You & Me and returns forBreakthrough.]You burn very intensely from about 10 a.m. to about 5:30 or 6, and that’s it. I’m not a night owl in the studio.
I want to talk to you a little bit about Journeyman Records, which is a pet project label of yours and your manager, Roy Weisman. What’s the impetus? What do you get from it personally?
We have Joanne Shaw Taylor and Robert John, and we’ve invested in those two because what we see in them is little glimpses of what was happening with me right before it hit. You’re a very talented artist, but if a tree falls in the woods and nobody’s there to hear it, does it sell any tickets? [laughs] No. I learned that. So we’ve created a vertical integration of business for those artists—everything from concert promotion to T-shirts to having ownership of their masters.
If I said to you 20 years ago that I do my own T-shirts, I do my own record company, and I promote my own shows, the notion, on Sunset Boulevard at the Chateau Marmont, would be, “This person clearly is not talented and has to do it by themselves because nobody will help them.” Now, the conversation taking place is, “My god, I gotta re-record my album because I don’t own my masters.”
So we’re using Journeyman Records as a proof of concept. It’s like, if I could do it, anybody can. It just takes hard work. And Vince Gill said it best: “If you don’t bet on yourself, how are you going to get anybody to bet on you?” And that’s so true. Maybe it’s ego, it’s bravado, it’s blind belief … whatever you want to call it. It is so important to have that chip on your shoulder before you even enter into this. Because if you don't believe in what you’re doing, you’re going to encounter some headwinds that may not be surmountable.
YouTube It
This performance from the Rudolf-Weber Arena in Oberhausen, Germany, is from April 29, 2025 and showcases Bonamassa’s range as an artist.
Vintage Fenders, Gibsons, and Gretsches get the job done for one of Nashville’s veteran studio players.
Trusted session guitarist Sol Philcox-Littlefield, known for his work with Luke Combs, Tim McGraw, Kelsea Ballerini, and Elle King, among many others, was at Nashville’s FrontStage Studios for some recording work recently, and he invited PG’s John Bohlinger to get a look at all the tools he uses to cut a stellar country record.
Philcox-Littlefield picked up this sweet 1967 Gibson ES-335 from Carter Vintage Guitars in Nashville as a treat when he got his end-of-year tax return.
Butcher’s Choice
This 1962 Gibson SG, which has been refinished and “butchered to some degree,” isn’t super comfortable, so it pushes Philcox-Littlefield into less usual, more creative playing.
Also in the studio stable are a Gretsch Chet Atkins Tennessean, another SG loaded with P-90s, a Gibson Les Paul Custom, a Jerry Jones baritone, a Silvertone semi-hollowbody, and a Fender Jazzmaster, Telecaster, and Stratocaster.
Headcount
Philcox-Littlefield’s studio setup includes a cabinet of tube-amp heads hooked up to a Kahayan amp switcher, including a Fender Bassman, Fender Bandmaster, Marshall JCM800, Guytron GT100 F/V, and a Matchless DC-30. Also on the shelf is a Roland Chorus Echo RE-501.
Sol Philcox-Littlefield’s Pedalboard
Philcox-Littlefield’s studio board is packed with goodies. Along with a TC Electronic PolyTune 2, Dunlop volume pedal, Barn3 OXU Three switch, and a Line 6 HX Effects, there’s a Dr. Scientist Bitquest, Analog Man King of Tone, Nordland ODR-C, Greer Lightspeed, Bogner Ecstasy, Way Huge Swollen Pickle, Bondi Effects Squish As, Eventide H90, Strymon El Capistan, Jackson Audio/Silvertone Twin Trem, Electro-Harmonix POG III, Boss CE-2, Boss DC-2, Strymon Deco, and Strymon Mobius.
