The songwriting foils discuss the mini odysseys on their third album together, Help Us Stranger, where they take turns in the driver’s seat and play 6-string in tandem.
Jack White is always on the hunt for the hard way out. For decades he’s battled difficult pawnshop guitars and found trailblazing ways to make them growl, howl, and sing. White uses both experimenting and limiting as techniques. He might impose strict parameters on a project, or work in weird color schemes or numeral obsessions. For all the eccentricities, the man has no fear when it comes to artistic adventure. From the White Stripes to the Dead Weather to collaborating with pop titans like Beyoncé, he goes for it. But for the Raconteurs’ third studio album, Help Us Stranger, he did something ironic and starkly less intense than what he’s known for.
“The funniest thing on this album was that there’s something that happened that I’ve been avoiding my whole life in recording,” White shares. What did he do? He played a Les Paul through a Fender Champ. The yin to that yang is his new affection for using a B-Bender, G-Bender, and E-Bender on a Fender Telecaster.
On the whole, the Raconteurs’ vibe is lighthearted and communal, in the spirit of traditional rock bands as a unit. Co-frontman Brendan Benson, White’s writing foil who shares the Raconteurs’ canon authorship equally, says it’s “classic Raconteurs” modus operandi for the band to fly by the seat of their pants, improv their asses off, and somehow have things fall together in a mystical way that they have a hard time putting into words. “I’m kind of kidding,” Benson says, “but with the Raconteurs, it’s like, how far can we go with not playing the song?”
Benson’s knack for clever, deep songwriting paired with White’s bull-in-a-China-shop 6-string prowess is a palpable force. White brings explosive riffs and Benson provides the segues. Jack White is a lead guitarist; Benson is a glue-it-all together player who can do it all, from rhythm to slide to synchronized, ripping chords with White through a bridge to blues harp ad-libbing, all on a dime. Benson's keen sense of melody is evident in his vocal style, which the guitars in a Raconteurs’ joint often mimic. The inventive tones on the album will leave no 6-string enthusiast wanting. Help Us Stranger’s single, “Sunday Driver,” packs a punch of guitar ideas, with White’s experimental Flex synth-fuzz pedal spiraling into an octave-changing intro riff, while Benson hits arpeggios in the verses.
And look: White’s rocking a Flying V now, too.
Help Us Stranger was produced by all four of the Raconteurs: White on lead guitar and vocals, Benson on rhythm guitar and vocals, “Little Jack” LJ Lawrence on bass, and Patrick Keeler on drums. (Dean Fertita plays keys/percussion at live shows, and he’s also a member of another White-inclusive band, the Dead Weather.)
The new album comes more than a decade after the Grammy-winning sophomore release, Consolers of the Lonely, and misses no beats: It’s constant motion, formidable swing with impeccable timing and phrasing, light-dark storytelling, and an intangible quality that shows up when groups have unflappable chemistry, like … dare I say—the Beatles.
For all of the Raconteurs’ raging musicality, a specialness reveals itself in the emotional conjuring of existential struggle expressed in their lyric themes. “I think I suggested ‘Help Me Stranger’ because it’s so powerful,” Benson says. “We didn’t talk about why or what it was. I think it’s just one of those evocative statements. And then, of course, we decided to pluralize it to make it Help Us Stranger, since all the other records kind of had that gang mentality about them, like soldiers and consolers and strangers, or ‘us.’”
White calls Benson the best songwriter out of the Detroit scene they both grew up in. Both White and Benson are also drummers, and it’s fun to look at the teenage influences each guy cites and throw it up against the space they inhabit in the band. White was into Deep Purple, Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Dylan, the Cramps, and the Flat Duo Jets. For Benson, it was the subversive hardcore punk movement on Dischord Records (Minor Threat, S.O.A, Dag Nasty) and Black Flag, paired with what his hippie parents played at home: the Stooges, T. Rex, Bowie, Roxy Music.
It all makes for an interesting variety in their sonic journey. “When we were mixing the record I thought, ‘Wow, these songs are little odysseys,’” Benson says. “They take some turns, and there are some definite departures and coming-back-agains. Even tempos going up and down.”
From their home base of Nashville, White and Benson candidly discussed the making of Help Us Stranger and the artillery they used, from White’s new trio of “golden Gibsons” and the “contraptions” he’s putting on all his guitars to the pair’s creative synergy, and how making Raconteurs’ music has given them some of the most thrilling times in their lives. Spoiler alert: It all smells like rain, leather, hair spray, and clove cigarettes.
Are you in Nashville today?
Jack White: Yes, we’re home for a little bit of regrouping. We just came back from Australia and Japan, our first shows over there. Yeah, I’ve been feeling good.
I live in Nashville too. You know the Natchez Trace Parkway? That’s where I drive to listen to new albums because there’s no traffic. I listened to Help Us Stranger that way and it’s my new driving album. What’s your favorite way to listen to new music?
White: Yes, I love it. That’s a nice idea! I have to say the car. I don’t have a cell phone, so I’m undistracted there by anything. Nobody can come in and ask me anything or take me away from what’s going on. It would be hard at my house to listen to an entire album without some kind of interruption. There’s always so much stuff going on. So it’s really nice. I’m lucky enough to drive a Tesla, and I really think it has the best sound system of any car. The factory sound system is just outstanding sounding. It still impresses me years later, the sound system in this car.
Brendan Benson: I usually like to be doing something, like cleaning up or driving, or in the headphones. That’s always a good one: Go for a walk with the headphones. I rarely just sit down and put on a record and stay put, unless it’s a vinyl record. Then, of course, you can’t wander very far.
You guys are both from Detroit. How did you first meet?
Benson: I just went up to him and introduced myself. I was floored by the White Stripes. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I was living in California at the time. I came home to visit over Christmas or something like that and some friends took me out to the Gold Dollar and the White Stripes played. I was asking my friend, like, “Who’s this guy? What is this?” Oh, it’s this guy Jack. Jack and Meg, they’re from the West side. I think I offered to record him. I had recording gear and kind of a cool home-studio setup. I think I just said come on over and record some of your songs at my house. Which he did. I remember we did a few of his songs, which I just recently gave back to him. He was really not shy. I remember that. I remember thinking, “Wow, sweet! He’s serious.”
It’s been a decade since Consolers of the Lonely. How did you know it was time for new Raconteurs music and to get writing?
White: That’s the hardest question to answer lately. None of us could really remember why we started playing again. We also don’t know why it took so long. It’s very strange. The easy answer is to say that we’re all very busy. I’m starting to think that there was this song called “Shine the Light on Me,” which I had recorded for my last solo record. It just didn’t fit all the other string songs on that record. I thought, “Y ou know what, this really does sound like a Raconteurs song.” I might’ve played that for Brendan and said, “You know, I’m going to save this for the next time we record together.” That might’ve started it. I’m not sure.
The Raconteurs third LP, Help Us Stranger, was produced by the band, recorded and engineered by Joshua Smith, and mixed by Vance Powell at Sputnik Sound in Nashville. It’s the 600th release on Jack White’s Third Man Records label.
You both collaborate with a lot of people. Sometimes a musical marriage or mixture works amazingly, but it’s just once, or maybe for a short time. What is it about this band that has given you longevity?
White: It’s probably because we’re all from the same area. We came out of this Detroit garage-rock scene that was happening around the late ’90s. Brendan was the best songwriter of the whole group. He was really not garage rock-y, but more of a singer-songwriter. He was somebody we looked up to a little bit, because he got signed first. He was signed to Virgin, and he released a solo record on a major label already, and the rest of us were all on these tiny little bedroom labels. He had a whole different lifestyle of music than the rest of us did, but he also really loved the White Stripes and the bands I was in, and the Greenhornes—Patrick [Keeler] and LJ [“Little Jack” Lawrence], their band. It was very cool. If I could’ve picked who I’d be in a band with, of all the people in this scene, I’d say that I’d love to be in a band with Brendan and the rhythm section of the Greenhornes. That’s what happened! I couldn’t have picked it any better.
Benson: It’s one of those collaborations that just works really well. Not to compare ourselves with them, but like Lennon and McCartney. I think they were great for each other. Very complementary. They knew. Me and Jack both have the same musical sensibilities. So, it really works. Not just that we’re able to finish a song together. I mean, I’ve written with a lot of people since Jack. Jack was the first guy I ever wrote or collaborated with. I’d never even thought of doing something like that. It’s a very personal thing. I think he thought that way as well. When we wrote together, it stayed personal. I’ve written with people since, and you’re kind of coming up with lines, coming up with words, coming up with choruses and chords and stuff. You might get a song that’s pretty cool or whatever. More often than not you’re lucky to have finished it. I think that’s probably why. It’s just a good chemistry.
When you write together, are you guys in the same room? Would you say the songwriting duties are pretty evenly shared?
White: All different things. We try to shake it up as much as possible. Sometimes one of us does 90 percent of it, and sometimes it’s very 50/50. Each song is different. Sometimes we finish them in the studio together, or sometimes the other person does almost everything. You don’t really have to touch it. You almost just add production or instrument tones to the idea of it to help flesh it out. You just have to do what the song is telling you to do and not let your ego get involved too much. We also don’t have that competitive thing going on very much, like that Lennon-McCartney competition style. I sometimes wish we did. It might be interesting to see what would happen, but I think we have a mutual respect for each other. We just like to inspire one another.
Benson: I had some ideas laying around that I thought would be great for Raconteurs, and I had them laying around for years actually. So did Jack. We’ll kind of come together…. It’s only been three records, and it’s different every time. The one thing that has remained constant is that we’ll each have a couple of ideas to bring to the table. It’s nice to have someone else help you finish them. It’s great. That’s my problem. I have a lot of unfinished ideas. Hearkening back to the lack of competition between us, I think, in fact, we look forward to someone else helping us. We can rely on each other. It’s really great to be two singers and songwriters, because you have your songs that you sing, and then you can step back and take a breather and play guitar. It’s really a great thing. I think the shows can be better. They can be longer, simply for endurance purposes. If I had to sing all those songs myself, there’d be no way! The set would be 20 minutes.
The Guild Aristocrat is Brendan Benson’s favorite guitar. His 1959 model is shown here, but for the upcoming Raconteurs tour he’s got an early ’60s black Aristocrat and two thinline T-styles made by Charles Whitfill. Photo by David James Swanson
How much of this album was written on guitar?
White: Good question. I would say most of it. I don’t remember too many piano songs for me. “Shine the Light on Me” I wrote on piano. But most of them on this album are more guitar-based.
Benson: Usually it’s acoustic guitar, because that’s my go-to and it’s easy. But I do like to sit at the piano sometimes and see what happens. I don’t usually write on electric guitar. A lot of times I write on drums, actually. I have a solo record that’s done that will come out later, and I wrote a lot of those songs on drums. I just sit behind the drum set, and I can hear the song a little bit in my mind.
If you’re at home just playing around writing stuff or jamming, what guitar do you pick up?
White: Well, most of the time I have this Gibson Army Navy guitar from World War I. I played it a lot in my solo live shows. I probably shouldn’t have, because I’ve scratched the hell out of it. It’s really comfortable. It has a thick V-shaped neck, sort of like a baseball-bat thick neck. It’s very soft and bass-y and comfortable. I really like that. I don’t really like bright acoustics too much when I’m sitting around.
Where did you get that guitar?
White: I got that in St. Louis at a place called Killer Vintage. I’d never heard of that guitar, the Army Navy. They made it for soldiers in World War I. It’s supposed to be like a no-frills version of a Gibson L-1. By the time they finished making them, the war was over, so they didn’t really sell that many of them. It was supposed to be like a cheap, no-frills guitar to have at army bases. It has a great sound.
What about you, Brendan?
Benson: My Gibson Country Western. That’s been my guitar for years that I’ve always played and written on. Lately there’s a new horse in the running. It’s a Gibson J-45 gold top. I think it’s a custom shop. It’s a very limited-edition guitar that I found in Detroit and it has a gold top like a Les Paul, so it’s really bizarre.
Jack, you’ve talked about how your decision to play an EVH Wolfgang was after Eddie Van Halen mentioned that he doesn’t want a guitar to fight him. Now you’ve got the Fort Knox Gibsons, and are playing a Flying V. Where are you at with these experimental guitar changes that you’re trying?
White: It was just sort of two types of guitars. I had an army of guitars for this Raconteurs album and for the touring. The most guitars I’ve ever taken with me on the road. I almost don’t know why, except for how many different tones and ideas that we tried out in the studio. It’s sort of these new Telecasters and these golden Gibsons. The Gibsons were given to me as a present by Gibson. There was some Grammy event that was sponsored by them, and they said, “Pick out any guitar you want!” I said well, I usually only play Gibson acoustic guitars. I didn’t really know what to pick. I saw this Fort Knox gold Les Paul in their catalog, and I thought that’s crazy, it’s so gold! I wonder if they’d make me one of those with a maple neck. I didn’t know if they’d do that or not. They were nice enough to do that. They gave me the Flying V with the maple neck as, like, a second guitar, as a present. That was really kind of them. I like the number three, so I said, I wonder if you could make me another one: the Firebird Gold with the Fort Knox maple neck? So I had those three guitars.
And then I had these two Fenders. I was given a Fender B-Bender for Christmas. I played that on this song on the album called “Somedays (I Don’t Feel Like Trying).” It was the first time I ever played a B-Bender on a recording, and I really loved it. I have another 1982 Telecaster that I equipped with a Hipshot B-Bender, and this other one. The Fender Custom Shop was being really kind to me. Chip Ellis, who helped make that Wolfgang guitar for me last year, he’s been making and customizing these guitars for me, these Fenders. He got me the new Acoustasonic Telecaster, which was the first one out of the Custom Shop that they’d done.
That’s been really helpful onstage, because you can switch from acoustic to electric in the middle of the song. I’m using that a lot onstage. Then this other one, this B-Bender that I really customized and put new pickups and all these contraptions in… I can bend the high-E string, I can bend the B with the strap, I can bend the G string, and then I can drop-tune the E with this flip-switch, which is something that the Wolfgang guitar did that I wanted to carry forward. So it’s sort of making these new guitars full of contraptions. It’s really, really interesting.
The Acoustasonic Telecaster is an interesting concept.
White: It just came out a couple months ago. It’s brand new. It’s very interesting. In Nashville especially, I think they’re going to sell a million of them, because if you’re a guy who plays up on Broadway or something and you’re doing a four-hour set at a honky-tonk, this guitar would really help out. You can make it sound like seven different things without even getting out of your chair.
What guitar do you think you’ll be playing the most for the Raconteurs tour?
White: Probably that Telecaster with the B-Bender and all the contraptions on it. It sort of has everything I need. It also doesn’t have a Bigsby on it. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to conquer these Hipshot G- and E-Benders that I’ve put on there. They’re tricky. It’s a whole new thing. It’s almost like a pedal-steel guitar, really. I’m trying to give myself these challenges to see if I can come up with something that I haven’t done before, to find out what parts I like. It may end up turning into a Bigsby by the end of the tour. I don’t know.
How did you get turned on to the B-Bender?
White: The B-Bender was something I always thought was cool. I’ve seen country artists use it. Jimmy Page used it in “All of My Love,” I think. My friend got it for me for Christmas, because they knew that I’ve always wanted one. It came in right at the perfect time, because we were recording the song “Somedays,” that Brendan had. The bend that it would do is exactly the bend Brendan was doing with his voice. It was pretty cool to do it at the same time. It was perfect timing.
Tell me about the interrupter switch on your St. Vincent Music Man guitar.
White: I have that on all my guitars now. I can’t resist it. I just love it. I used to have an on-off toggle switch to turn the guitar on and off. That’s a lot harder to use. But they didn’t have those interrupter switches when I first was customizing my stuff. You can just hold it down and fix whatever you need to. It’s very cool, man. You can do really great things. I used to do recordings with a tremolo or something where you’d interject it and sometimes go into Pro Tools and print the tracks to tape. I’d slice it up. On the second Raconteurs album, I’d slice the guitar solos up with tiny spaces. That interrupter can mimic that live.
Guitars
1959 Guild Aristocrat
Early 1960s Guild Aristocrat
Charles Whitfill Thinline T-Style (two: one natural, one sea foam green)
Gibson J-45 Gold Top LTD (acoustic)
Amps
Marshall JTM45 Offset
Silvertone 1484 Twin Twelve
Effects
Whirlwind Phaser
Caroline Kilobyte
Way Huge Angry Troll Boost
Strings and Picks
D'Addario strings (.010–.046)
Herco Flex 75 mm picks
Glass slide
Hohner Marine Band Harmonica
Brendan, you play Guild Aristocrats. Is the black one you’re currently using new?
Benson: It might be a ’60 or ’61. I got it several years ago, but I never played it. I had it in my mind that there was something wrong with it. It doesn’t sound as good as my blonde Aristocrat, but something happened, or else I got it totally wrong, because I picked that thing up before making this record. I just plugged it in, and wow, it sounded fucking great. What was I thinking? I was probably playing it through a weird amp.
Then you have a Thinline T-style as well.
Benson: Yeah, I have this Charles Whitfill Thinline [T-style] that’s fucking awesome. It just plays beautifully. The pickups are amazing. They sound crazy good. That guy, Charles Whitfill, is a badass. I was going to say I don’t know why he’s not more well known, but he’s only one guy making guitars out of his house in Kentucky or something.
One of my favorite lyrics of the album is “Somedays (I Don’t Feel Like Trying).” It starts out hopeless and then it ends with, “I’m here right now. I’m not dead yet.” Almost hopeful.
Benson: Right. That whole end part was totally off the cuff. The song was proving to be difficult to record. We were all under headphones and playing. The song’s kind of mellow, so we’re all playing mellow. It was a very nerve-wracking song to do. Maybe nerve-wracking’s not the right word, but it was tedious and kind of tough going. On one of the takes, I started playing that guitar line, just that guitar part, and everyone started joining in. I said that line—I don’t know where that line came from even. It was one of those, in my mind, magical things that could only happen being in the Raconteurs. It was one of the most exciting times in my life! Maybe that sounds too dramatic, but that’s the kind of shit that I live for, you know what I mean? Impromptu and it all came together. I’m really proud of that one.
Do you have a certain way you like to record your guitars?
White: I like to try something different every time. The funniest thing on this album was that there’s something that happened that I’ve been avoiding my whole life in recording. Probably one of the number one things in the studio is, people would say, either a Les Paul or a Stratocaster played through a very small amplifier. Those are things that you can do to make a sound that is very appealing to people. A lot of people use that type of thing, and I’ve always avoided it. Oh, I’m not going to do that at all. I’m going to use these gigantic amps, really bad guitars, and try to fight them both and see if I can make something different-sounding out of it. This album, I actually had that gold Fort Knox Les Paul, and I had a new Fender Champ amp. I thought I’d try it. I’d never actually done that with the Les Paul through this tiny little amp. For that guitar solo, it was like, “Oh my god, it sounds so good!” I just thought, of course, this is why everybody does this. It’s hilarious that I’ve avoided this my whole life.
That’s crazy. You’ve been using 15" speakers for a long time.
White: Yeah. I really, really love 15" speakers. That’s the speaker for guitar playing for me. I have loved it for years. In the White Stripes, I had an 18" speaker. I learned later on that a lot of guitar players I love or who I think have good tone also use 15" speakers, like Duane Eddy and Stevie Ray Vaughan, and I think Link Wray might’ve also. I’m not sure. But there’s something I read about; it’s a thing. There’s a club of us guys, I guess, that love the 15". The 15" Fender Vibroverb is, I think, the best amp Fender ever made. It’s just perfect.
Photo by David James Swanson
Do you recall any surprises in the studio, or do you have a favorite memory from the making of the album?
White: There’s a song that’s going to be released as a single pretty soon, “Help Me Stranger.” We filmed the video in Japan. At the beginning of it, LJ—Jack Lawrence, the bass player—was in the tracking room. He was going to overdub a background vocal. We were in the control room trying to figure something out, a compressor or something. He just picked up a guitar and started pretending like he was performing the song like a 1930s singer, like Jimmie Rodgers or something. That’s who you hear at the beginning of the song. That’s just Jack and an acoustic guitar. It just sounds so great. We recorded it and actually EQ’d it to make it sound like an old 78, because his voice fit that so perfectly.
Benson: The whole record’s like that—really improv. Little Jack was in the tracking room playing acoustic guitar. No one was really listening. I remember having a discussion with the engineer, and he was kind of in the background. Suddenly, someone said, “Wait, listen!” LJ was playing the song in that kind of country way. We all just cracked up and loved it. “Oh my god, that’s brilliant! Let’s do it. Let’s use it as an intro.”
I thought that was a sample or something.
White: Yeah! People have told us that so far. They thought it was me, or an old record we found and sampled. It’s pretty funny. I don’t think LJ has actually sung on a Raconteurs recording before, like a solo. That’s pretty cool that he did that [laughing].
What’s happening with the percussion in that song?
White: It’s pretty amazing, because Patrick flips his snare drum over, and he’s sort of playing the bottom of the snare, the bottom head, just barely tapping it. He came up with this sort of hip-hop drumbeat by barely playing the drums. That was supplemented by a bongo rhythm. Then LJ played bass on it with a bass pedal: one of those [Moog] Taurus bass pedals. He didn’t play a bass guitar on that song. That’s the most unique-sounding song on the album.
Speaking of pedals, you have your Third Man + Mantic Flex. Did you use that a lot on the record?
White: We did use it on some songs. I used it a couple of times on my last solo record, too. I want to be careful not to use it too much, but it’s kind of irresistible because it does so many interesting things.
I think some people are mystified by how to use it.
White: I want to do a video with Third Man and show that. We actually have two new guitar pedals coming out that we haven’t announced yet. I can’t tell you about them, but they’re coming out in the next few months. We’ll have four different guitar pedals for sale from Third Man Hardware. The whole stable is going to grow tremendously this year, from turntables to headphones all the way to guitars.
We’re going to sell guitar strings and guitar tuners and these four really unique guitar pedals. That Mantic one was the latest one that we put out. We had the Bumble Buzz before that. I want to do a video where I play through all four of these pedals and show people how I use them and maybe see what they think.
Can you say what these two new pedals would effect?
White: I can’t tell you yet! Sorry. [Laughs.] I would if I could.
It sounds like you’re using your Flex on the “Sunday Driver” song.
White: Yes, I am. I start the song off with it, actually. Live onstage, I have to give that to Dean Fertita. He has to play the Mantic on that song, because I can’t do the other arpeggio-sounding octave thing on the guitar at the same time. I overdubbed both of those when we recorded. Brendan is playing something totally different as well. That song’s got a lot of guitars on it.
Yeah! I was wondering how you were going to do it live.
White: There’s a thing somebody sent me, because I use a Whammy pedal. I’ve always used it since the White Stripes, but this is a new contraption [called a Step Audio Riff-Step] that you can hook up to the Whammy pedal to bounce between four different settings whenever you tap it. That’s going from an octave up to a fourth down to an octave below to a fourth up or something. It just kind of worked out for that song in a cool way. Now I have to do it every time [laughs].
“Now That You’re Gone” has a call-and-response thing at the end, where the guitar pans. It sounds simple, but what’s happening there?
White: That’s very hard! We laugh every time onstage, because it’s so difficult for Brendan and I to play it properly. We’ve rehearsed it a lot, and at soundcheck we’ll stand next to each other and try to rehearse that back and forth. It’s almost like math rock or something. We still haven’t perfected it! But when it works, it’s really cool. He’s in the right channel and I’m in the left, I think.
You guys are both doing those parts in real-time?
Benson: Yeah! That was a funny moment when he did his part and I went to overdub my part. That’s classic Raconteurs stuff in my mind. On my solo stuff, I would make it way easier on myself. First of all, I would overdub the part, and I would never play it live like that. But in Raconteurs, we performed it on the record, and it’s performed live just like that. Jack’s a stickler for that kind of stuff. “Well, that’s how it’s done on the record, so that’s how we’ve got to do it.” Much to my horror, because that stuff’s very weird. It’s very hard to play. It’s not super hard to play, but it’s like, why are we doing this? The timing, yeah.
Guitars
Gibson Les Paul Fort Knox (with maple neck)
Gibson Flying V Fort Knox (with maple neck)
Gibson Jeff “Skunk” Baxter Fort Knox Firebird (with maple neck)
Fender B-Bender Telecaster Custom (with Hipshot B-, G-, and E-Benders)
1982 Fender Telecaster Custom (with Hipshot B-Bender)
Fender Custom American Acoustasonic Telecaster
Randy Parsons/Gretsch Triple Jet III
Gretsch Custom Duo Jet
Gretsch Rancher “Claudette” (custom acoustic)
Gibson Army Navy Special (WWI-era acoustic)
Amps
Silvertone 1485 (15" Jensen speakers)
1964 Fender Vibroverb (15" speaker)
1980s Fender Champ
Effects
Boss TU-3 Chromatic Tuner
Boss NS-2 Noise Suppressor
Third Man + Mantic Flex
Third Man Bumble Buzz
DigiTech Whammy DT
Step Audio Riff-Step
Electro-Harmonix Big Muff Pi
Electro-Harmonix POG2
Keeley Caverns
Demeter TRM-1 Tremulator
MXR Micro Amp
Strings and Picks
Strings: "Doesn't matter to me"
Picks: "Hard" ones
You covered a Donovan song, “Hey Gyp,” and it’s got the Animals’ version vibe to it. What made you want to do that song?
White: There’s this technique I’ve done over the years that is sort of a good idea and not a good idea. It happened on this song “I’m Shakin’” that I recorded a few years ago and this song “New Pony” by Bob Dylan that the Dead Weather did. The idea is that when we first come into the studio for a new session, let’s pick a song to cover. Any song is fine. Just someone say something out loud, and let’s cover it to get us inspired and moving. Then we can take that energy and move on to one of our own songs and see if we can carry it over. I’d just heard “Hey Gyp” on the radio in the car that morning, so I asked if anybody knew that song. Brendan says, “I love that song. I’ve always wanted to record that actually.” I said, “Well, let’s do it now and see if we come up with something interesting.” Everybody ripped into it really fast. Brendan pulled out a harmonica and played the harp on that song. None of us even knew Brendan played harmonica. He surprised all of us.
Jack, how do you feel about talking about your pedalboard?
White: I feel fine about it [laughs]. What’s cool about the Raconteurs is I have a pedalboard that’s all copper. I was fortunate enough to be able to take them apart and copper plate all of the metal boxes that the pedals come in. One of the main guitars I use in the Raconteurs is this copper Triple Jet that I sort of halfway designed. It was taking a Gretsch Duo Jet and turning it into a more contraption-filled monstrosity made out of copper. It’s just one of the colors of materials that I’ve always used in the Raconteurs, for some reason. It’s something that ties me into that band. I thought it would be cool to make the pedalboard the last time we were out, the second album, all copper. Now I’m adding more pedals to it that we used on this album. It’s actually a gigantic pedalboard. It’s getting a little bit ridiculous. I’m going to have to figure out what to do with it. On my last solo tour, because I’m playing songs from the Raconteurs, White Stripes, the Dead Weather, my own stuff, I ended up having 15 pedals or something in front of me. I only used to have two in the White Stripes: a Big Muff and a Whammy pedal. That’s all I had! It’s kind of crazy to have all of these. But in 20 years of making recordings, you have all these different tones for different solos and songs.
If music had an odor, what would the Raconteurs’ music smell like?
White: Wow. Maybe like rain. I would hope my music smells like rain [laughing]. Because when you write or record or produce something, your hope is that you’ll be able to change somebody’s mood when they’re listening to it. Say if you’re listening to “The End” by the Doors. When I listen to that song, it immediately changes my mood. They convey the mood with that song in a big way. It’s very evident. That’s an extreme example. But you can do it in subtle ways, too. The smell of rain is very subtle, when you smell outside. It’s the smell of ozone maybe, the low pressure that’s happening around you. It’s instantaneously a mood. That’s sort of what you aim for as a songwriter and producer.
Benson: There’s too much potential for a joke here.... What would we smell like? Man, geez. I think we’d smell like Aqua Net hairspray because that’s the smell of punk rock to me. That’s the smell of rock ’n’ roll to me. That’s what I remember: leather, hairspray, and clove cigarettes.
What would you say to younger musicians who are trying to find their voice?
White: I think you just have to push yourself. But also, if it’s not coming naturally, if you’re not just finding yourself picking up an instrument without even thinking about it, maybe it’s not for you. There’s this thing about art where it should be a scenario where you just can’t help yourself. You do it because you just can’t help it. That has to just be inside you naturally. You can see some people who can just naturally play a sport. They’re just born with it. That’s the case moreso than people who sat there and made themselves into a great athlete because of some other purpose. There’s that to begin with. I don’t mean that you have to be born with talent. I mean you have to be born with the obsession and the passion to even care about it. It has to be something that you can’t will to happen, so there’s that.
After that it’s sort of like … there’s a responsibility to art. You have to work at it. Once you have that passion, you have to realize that being an artist doesn’t mean, “Oh, this is great! I don’t have to work 9 to 5 like everyone else does.” No, you actually have to work harder than everybody else does, because not only are you passionate and have that natural thing going on, but you’re also applying it. You have to apply it and find a way to have it make sense to you in the real world of economics and business. Those are all very strange things to teach somebody or tell somebody. The easy way to say all of that is: just keep doing what you’re doing. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen. If not, you just have to go with your gut.
I saw the White Stripes at Coachella in the early 2000s. That was a long time ago. You always keep changing and pushing the envelope. What keeps guitar exciting for you?
White: One thing I feel is that this is the instrument that people relate to me the best on. I really consider myself a drummer, but that’s not an instrument I think people relate to me as a songwriter with. This instrument is the one that people relate to the most, whether I like it or not. That’s my gateway to communicate. My goal is not to find the easy way out all the time—that Les Paul through a tiny amplifier thing that I mentioned and avoided for years. It’s challenging yourself all the time, like putting these Hipshot contraptions on the Telecaster, and the B-Bender, to try and make myself do something I haven’t done before. Instead of taking the easy way out, I like to take the hard way every time and see if I can get somewhere new with it. Luckily, it happens! When you come up with a new solo that you haven’t heard anybody do before or yourself do, you think “That’s great—I got to someplace new!” After all these years and songs and albums you’ve made, you’re still getting to someplace new. Even if other people don’t like it, you know in your gut or in your mind that you’ve gotten to someplace new. That inspires you and keeps you hanging on for a few more weeks, you know?
In this full concert from the Montreux Jazz Festival 2008, the Raconteurs blast through a set of mostly Consolers of the Lonely tunes. Brendan Benson and Jack White seamlessly pull off the dual-frontman, dual-guitarist formula.
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Throughout his over-30-year career, Keith Urban has been known more as a songwriter than a guitarist. Here, he shares about his new release, High, and sheds light on all that went into the path that led him to becoming one of today’s most celebrated country artists.
There are superstars of country and rock, chart-toppers, and guitar heroes. Then there’s Keith Urban. His two dozen No. 1 singles and boatloads of awards may not eclipse George Strait or Garth Brooks, but he’s steadily transcending the notion of what it means to be a country star.
He’s in the Songwriters Hall of Fame. He’s won 13 Country Music Association Awards, nine CMT video awards, eight ARIA (Australian Recording Industry Association) Awards, four American Music Awards, and racked up BMI Country Awards for 25 different singles.
He’s been a judge on American Idol and The Voice. In conjunction with Yamaha, he has his own brand of affordably priced Urban guitars and amps, and he has posted beginner guitar lessons on YouTube. His 2014 Academy of Country Music Award-winning video for “Highways Don’t Care” featured Tim McGraw and Keith’s former opening act, Taylor Swift. Add his marriage to fellow Aussie, the actress Nicole Kidman, and he’s seen enough red carpet to cover a football field.
Significantly, his four Grammys were all for Country Male Vocal Performance. A constant refrain among newcomers is, “and he’s a really good guitar player,” as if by surprise or an afterthought. Especially onstage, his chops are in full force. There are country elements, to be sure, but rock, blues, and pop influences like Mark Knopfler are front and center.
Unafraid to push the envelope, 2020’s The Speed of Now Part 1 mixed drum machines, processed vocals, and a duet with Pink with his “ganjo”—an instrument constructed of a 6-string guitar neck on a banjo body—and even a didgeridoo. It, too, shot to No. 1 on the Billboard Country chart and climbed to No. 7 on the Pop chart.
His new release, High, is more down-to-earth, but is not without a few wrinkles. He employs an EBow on “Messed Up As Me” and, on “Wildfire,” makes use of a sequencer reminiscent of ZZ Top’s “Legs.” Background vocals in “Straight Lines” imitate a horn section, and this time out he duets on “Go Home W U” with rising country star Lainey Wilson. The video for “Heart Like a Hometown” is full of home movies and family photos of a young Urban dwarfed by even a 3/4-size Suzuki nylon-string.
Born Keith Urbahn (his surname’s original spelling) in New Zealand, his family moved to Queensland, Australia, when he was 2. He took up guitar at 6, two years after receiving his beloved ukulele. He released his self-titled debut album in 1991 for the Australian-only market, and moved to Nashville two years later. It wasn’t until ’97 that he put out a group effort, fronting the Ranch, and another self-titled album marked his American debut as a leader, in ’99. It eventually went platinum—a pattern that’s become almost routine.
The 57-year-old’s celebrity and wealth were hard-earned and certainly a far cry from his humble beginnings. “Australia is a very working-class country, certainly when I was growing up, and I definitely come from working-class parents,” he details. “My dad loved all the American country artists, like Johnny Cash, Haggard, Waylon. He didn’t play professionally, but before he got married he played drums in a band, and my grandfather and uncles all played instruments.
One of Urban’s biggest influences as a young guitar player was Mark Knopfler, but he was also mesmerized by lesser-known session musicians such as Albert Lee, Ian Bairnson, Reggie Young, and Ray Flacke. Here, he’s playing a 1950 Broadcaster once owned by Waylon Jennings that was a gift from Nicole Kidman, his wife.
“For me, it was a mix of that and Top 40 radio, which at the time was much more diverse than it is now. You would just hear way more genres, and Australia itself had its own, what they call Aussie pub rock—very blue-collar, hard-driving music for the testosterone-fueled teenager. Grimy, sweaty, kind of raw themes.”
A memorable event happened when he was 7. “My dad got tickets for the whole family to see Johnny Cash. He even bought us little Western shirts and bolo ties. It was amazing.”
But the ukulele he was gifted a few years earlier, at the age of 4, became a constant companion. “I think to some degree it was my version of the stuffed animal, something that was mine, and I felt safe with it. My dad said I would strum it in time to all the songs on the radio, and he told my mom, ‘He’s got rhythm. I wonder what a good age is for him to learn chords.’ My mom and dad ran a little corner store, and a lady named Sue McCarthy asked if she could put an ad in the window offering guitar lessons. They said, ‘If you teach our kid for free, we’ll put your ad in the window.’”
Yet, guitar didn’t come without problems. “With the guitar, my fingers hurt like hell,” he laughs, “and I started conveniently leaving the house whenever the guitar teacher would show up. Typical kid. I don’t wanna learn, I just wanna be able to do it. It didn’t feel like any fun. My dad called me in and went, ‘What the hell? The teacher comes here for lessons. What’s the problem?’ I said I didn’t want to do it anymore. He just said, ‘Okay, then don’t do it.’ Kind of reverse psychology, right? So I just stayed with it and persevered. Once I learned a few chords, it was the same feeling when any of us learn how to be moving on a bike with two wheels and nobody holding us up. That’s what those first chords felt like in my hands.”
Keith Urban's Gear
Urban has 13 Country Music Association Awards, nine CMT video awards, eight ARIA Awards, and four Grammys to his name—the last of which are all for Best Country Male Vocal Performance.
Guitars
For touring:
- Maton Diesel Special
- Maton EBG808TE Tommy Emmanuel Signature
- 1957 Gibson Les Paul Junior, TV yellow
- 1959 Gibson ES-345 (with Varitone turned into a master volume)
- Fender 40th Anniversary Tele, “Clarence”
- Two first-generation Fender Eric Clapton Stratocasters (One is black with DiMarzio Area ’67 pickups, standard tuning. The other is pewter gray, loaded with Fralin “real ’54” pickups, tuned down a half-step.)
- John Bolin Telecaster (has a Babicz bridge with a single humbucker and a single volume control. Standard tuning.)
- PRS Paul’s Guitar (with two of their narrowfield humbuckers. Standard tuning.)
- Yamaha Keith Urban Acoustic Guitar (with EMG ACS soundhole pickups)
- Deering “ganjo”
Amps
- Mid-’60s black-panel Fender Showman (modified by Chris Miller, with oversized transformers to power 6550 tubes; 130 watts)
- 100-watt Dumble Overdrive Special (built with reverb included)
- Two Pacific Woodworks 1x12 ported cabinets (Both are loaded with EV BlackLabel Zakk Wylde signature speakers and can handle 300 watts each.)
Effects
- Two Boss SD-1W Waza Craft Super Overdrives with different settings
- Mr. Black SuperMoon Chrome
- FXengineering RAF Mirage Compressor
- Ibanez TS9 with Tamura Mod
- Boss BD-2 Blues Driver
- J. Rockett Audio .45 Caliber Overdrive
- Pro Co RAT 2
- Radial Engineering JX44 (for guitar distribution)
- Fractal Audio Axe-Fx XL+ (for acoustic guitars)
- Two Fractal Audio Axe-Fx III (one for electric guitar, one for bass)
- Bricasti Design Model 7 Stereo Reverb Processor
- RJM Effect Gizmo (for pedal loops)
(Note: All delays, reverb, chorus, etc. is done post amp. The signal is captured with microphones first then processed by Axe-Fx and other gear.)
- Shure Axient Digital Wireless Microphone System
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario NYXL (.011–.049; electric)
- D’Addario EJ16 (.012–.053; acoustics)
- D’Addario EJ16, for ganjo (.012–.053; much thicker than a typical banjo strings)
- D’Addario 1.0 mm signature picks
He vividly remembers the first song he was able to play after “corny songs like ‘Mama’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread.’” He recalls, “There was a song I loved by the Stylistics, ‘You Make Me Feel Brand New.’ My guitar teacher brought in the sheet music, so not only did I have the words, but above them were the chords. I strummed the first chord, and went, [sings E to Am] ‘My love,’ and then minor, ‘I'll never find the words, my,’ back to the original chord, ‘love.’ Even now, I get covered in chills thinking what it felt like to sing and put that chord sequence together.”
After the nylon-string Suzuki, he got his first electric at 9. “It was an Ibanez copy of a Telecaster Custom—the classic dark walnut with the mother-of-pearl pickguard. My first Fender was a Stratocaster. I wanted one so badly. I’d just discovered Mark Knopfler, and I only wanted a red Strat, because that’s what Knopfler had. And he had a red Strat because of Hank Marvin. All roads lead to Hank!”
He clarifies, “Remember a short-lived run of guitar that Fender did around 1980–’81, simply called ‘the Strat’? I got talked into buying one of those, and the thing weighed a ton. Ridiculously heavy. But I was just smitten when it arrived. ‘Sultans of Swing’ was the first thing I played on it. ‘Oh my god! I sound a bit like Mark.’”
“Messed Up As Me” has some licks reminiscent of Knopfler. “I think he influenced a huge amount of my fingerpicking and melodic choices. I devoured those records more than any other guitar player. ‘Tunnel of Love,’ ‘Love over Gold,’ ‘Telegraph Road,’ the first Dire Straits album, and Communique. I was spellbound by Mark’s touch, tone, and melodic choice every time.”
Other influences are more obscure. “There were lots of session guitar players whose solos I was loving, but had no clue who they were,” he explains. “A good example was Ian Bairnson in the Scottish band Pilot and the Alan Parsons Project. It was only in the last handful of years that I stumbled upon him and did a deep dive, and realized he played the solo on ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush, ‘Eye in the Sky’ by Alan Parsons, ‘It’s Magic’ and ‘January’ by Pilot’—all these songs that spoke to me growing up. I also feel like a lot of local-band guitar players are inspirations—they certainly were to me. They didn’t have a name, the band wasn’t famous, but when you’re 12 or 13, watching Barry Clough and guys in cover bands, it’s, ‘Man, I wish I could play like that.’”
On High, Urban keeps things song-oriented, playing short and economical solos.
In terms of country guitarists, he nods, “Again, a lot of session players whose names I didn’t know, like Reggie Young. The first names I think would be Albert Lee and Ray Flacke, whose chicken pickin’ stuff on the Ricky Skaggs records became a big influence. ‘How is he doing that?’”
Flacke played a role in a humorous juxtaposition. “I camped out to see Iron Maiden,” Urban recounts. “They’d just put out Number of the Beast, and I was a big fan. I was 15, so my hormones were raging. I’d been playing country since I was 6, 7, 8 years old. But this new heavy-metal thing is totally speaking to me. So I joined a heavy metal band called Fractured Mirror, just as their guitar player. At the same time, I also discovered Ricky Skaggs and Highways and Heartaches. What is this chicken pickin’ thing? One night I was in the metal band, doing a Judas Priest song or Saxon. They threw me a solo, and through my red Strat, plugged into a Marshall stack that belonged to the lead singer, I shredded this high-distortion, chicken pickin’ solo. The lead singer looked at me like, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I got fired from the band.”
Although at 15 he “floated around different kinds of music and bands,” when he was 21 he saw John Mellencamp. “He’d just put out Lonesome Jubilee. I’d been in bands covering ‘Hurts So Good,' ‘Jack & Diane,’ and all the early shit. This record had fiddle and mandolin and acoustic guitars, wall of electrics, drums—the most amazing fusion of things. I saw that concert, and this epiphany happened so profoundly. I looked at the stage and thought, ‘Whoa! I get it. You take all your influences and make your own thing. That’s what John did. I’m not gonna think about genre; I’m gonna take all the things I love and find my way.’
“Of course, getting to Nashville with that recipe wasn’t going to fly in 1993,” he laughs. “Took me another seven-plus years to really start getting some traction in that town.”
Urban’s main amp today is a Dumble Overdrive Reverb, which used to belong to John Mayer. He also owns a bass amp that Alexander Dumble built for himself.
Photo by Jim Summaria
When it comes to “crossover” in country music, one thinks of Glen Campbell, Kenny Rogers, Garth Brooks, and Dolly Parton’s more commercial singles like “Two Doors Down.” Regarding the often polarizing subject and, indeed, what constitutes country music, it’s obvious that Urban has thought a lot—and probably been asked a lot—about the syndrome. The Speed of Now Part 1 blurs so many lines, it makes Shania Twain sound like Mother Maybelle Carter. Well, almost.
“I can’t speak for any other artists, but to me, it’s always organic,” he begins. “Anybody that’s ever seen me play live would notice that I cover a huge stylistic field of music, incorporating my influences, from country, Top 40, rock, pop, soft rock, bluegrass, real country. That’s how you get songs like ‘Kiss a Girl’—maybe more ’70s influence than anything else.”
“I think [Mark Knopfler] influenced a huge amount of my fingerpicking and melodic choices. I devoured those records more than any other guitar player.”
Citing ’50s producers Chet Atkins and Owen Bradley, who moved the genre from hillbilly to the more sophisticated countrypolitan, Keith argues, “In the history of country music, this is exactly the same as it has always been. Patsy Cline doing ‘Walking After Midnight’ or ‘Crazy’; it ain’t Bob Wills. It ain’t Hank Williams. It’s a new sound, drawing on pop elements. That’s the 1950s, and it has never changed. I’ve always seen country like a lung, that expands outwards because it embraces new sounds, new artists, new fusions, to find a bigger audience. Then it feels, ‘We’ve lost our way. Holy crap, I don’t even know who we are,’ and it shrinks back down again. Because a purist in the traditional sense comes along, whether it be Ricky Skaggs or Randy Travis. The only thing that I think has changed is there’s portals now for everything, which didn’t used to exist. There isn’t one central control area that would yell at everybody, ‘You’ve got to bring it back to the center.’ I don’t know that we have that center anymore.”
Stating his position regarding the current crop of talent, he reflects, “To someone who says, ‘That’s not country music,’ I always go, “‘It’s not your country music; it’s somebody else’s country music.’ I don’t believe anybody has a right to say something’s not anything. It’s been amazing watching this generation actually say, ‘Can we get back to a bit of purity? Can we get real guitars and real storytelling?’ So you’ve seen the explosion of Zach Bryan and Tyler Childers who are way purer than the previous generation of country music.”
Seen performing here in 2003, Urban is celebrated mostly for his songwriting, but is also an excellent guitarist.
Photo by Steve Trager/Frank White Photo Agency
As for the actual recording process, he notes, “This always shocks people, but ‘Chattahoochee’ by Alan Jackson is all drum machine. I write songs on acoustic guitar and drum machine, or drum machine and banjo. Of course, you go into the studio and replace that with a drummer. But my very first official single, in 1999, was ‘It’s a Love Thing,’ and it literally opens with a drum loop and an acoustic guitar riff. Then the drummer comes in. But the loop never goes away, and you hear it crystal clear. I haven’t changed much about that approach.”
On the road, Urban utilizes different electrics “almost always because of different pickups—single-coil, humbucker, P-90. And then one that’s tuned down a half-step for a few songs in half-keys. Tele, Strat, Les Paul, a couple of others for color. I’ve got a John Bolin guitar that I love—the feel of it. It’s a Tele design with just one PAF, one volume knob, no tone control. It’s very light, beautifully balanced—every string, every fret, all the way up the neck. It doesn’t have a lot of tonal character of its own, so it lets my fingers do the coloring. You can feel the fingerprints of Billy Gibbons on this guitar. It’s very Billy.”
“I looked at the stage and thought, ‘Whoa! I get it. You take all your influences and make your own thing. I’m gonna take all the things I love and find my way.’”
Addressing his role as the collector, “or acquirer,” as he says, some pieces have quite a history. “I haven’t gone out specifically thinking, ‘I’m missing this from the collection.’ I feel really lucky to have a couple of very special guitars. I got Waylon Jennings’ guitar in an auction. It was one he had all through the ’70s, wrapped in the leather and the whole thing. In the ’80s, he gave it to Reggie Young, who owned it for 25 years or so and eventually put it up for auction. My wife wanted to give it to me for my birthday. I was trying to bid on it, and she made sure that I couldn’t get registered! When it arrived, I discovered it’s a 1950 Broadcaster—which is insane. I had no idea. I just wanted it because I’m a massive Waylon fan, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that guitar disappearing overseas under somebody’s bed, when it should be played.
“I also have a 1951 Nocaster, which used to belong to Tom Keifer in Cinderella. It’s the best Telecaster I’ve ever played, hands down. It has the loudest, most ferocious pickup, and the wood is amazing.”
YouTube
Urban plays a Gibson SG here at the 2023 CMT Music Awards. Wait until the end to see him show off his shred abilities.
Other favorites include “a first-year Strat, ’54, that I love, and a ’58 goldtop. I also own a ’58 ’burst, but prefer the goldtop; it’s just a bit more spanky and lively. I feel abundantly blessed with the guitars I’ve been able to own and play. And I think every guitar should be played, literally. There’s no guitar that’s too precious to be played.”
Speaking of precious, there are also a few Dumble amps that elicit “oohs” and “aahs.” “Around 2008, John Mayer had a few of them, and he wanted to part with this particular Overdrive Special head. When he told me the price, I said, ‘That sounds ludicrous.’ He said, ‘How much is your most expensive guitar?’ It was three times the value of the amp. He said, ‘So that’s one guitar. What amp are you plugging all these expensive guitars into?’ I was like, ‘Sold. I guess when you look at it that way.’ It’s just glorious. It actually highlighted some limitations in some guitars I never noticed before.”
“It’s just glorious. It actually highlighted some limitations in some guitars I never noticed before.”
Keith also developed a relationship with the late Alexander Dumble. “We emailed back and forth, a lot of just life stuff and the beautifully eccentric stuff he was known for. His vocabulary was as interesting as his tubes and harmonic understanding. My one regret is that he invited me out to the ranch many times, and I was never able to go. Right now, my main amp is an Overdrive Reverb that also used to belong to John when he was doing the John Mayer Trio. I got it years later. And I have an Odyssey, which was Alexander’s personal bass amp that he built for himself. I sent all the details to him, and he said, ‘Yeah, that’s my amp.’”
The gearhead in Keith doesn’t even mind minutiae like picks and strings. “I’ve never held picks with the pointy bit hitting the string. I have custom picks that D’Addario makes for me. They have little grippy ridges like on Dunlops and Hercos, but I have that section just placed in one corner. I can use a little bit of it on the string, or I can flip it over. During the pandemic, I decided to go down a couple of string gauges. I was getting comfortable on .009s, and I thought, ‘Great. I’ve lightened up my playing.’ Then the very first gig, I was bending the crap out of them. So I went to .010s, except for a couple of guitars that are .011s.”
As with his best albums, High is song-oriented; thus, solos are short and economical. “Growing up, I listened to songs where the guitar was just in support of that song,” he reasons. “If the song needs a two-bar break, and then you want to hear the next vocal section, that’s what it needs. If it sounds like it needs a longer guitar section, then that’s what it needs. There’s even a track called ‘Love Is Hard’ that doesn’t have any solo. It’s the first thing I’ve ever recorded in my life where I literally don’t play one instrument. Eren Cannata co-wrote it [with Shane McAnally and Justin Tranter], and I really loved the demo with him playing all the instruments. I loved it so much I just went with his acoustic guitar. I’m that much in service of the song.”
The English guitarist expands his extensive discography with 1967: Vacations in the Past, an album paired with a separate book release, both dedicated to the year 1967 and the 14-year-old version of himself that still lives in him today.
English singer-songwriter Robyn Hitchcock is one of those people who, in his art as well as in his every expression, presents himself fully, without scrim. I don’t know if that’s because he intends to, exactly, or if it’s just that he doesn’t know how to be anyone but himself. And it’s that genuine quality that privileges you or I, as the listener, to recognize him in tone or lyrics alone, the same way one knows the sound of Miles Davis’ horn within an instant of hearing it—or the same way one could tell Hitchcock apart in a crowd by his vibrantly hued, often loudly patterned fashion choices.
Itchycoo Park
“I like my songs, but I don’t necessarily think I’m the best singer of them,” he effaces to me over Zoom, as it’s approaching midnight where he’s staying in London. “I just wanted to be a singer-songwriter because that’s what Bob Dylan did. And I like to create; I’m happiest when I’m producing something. But my records are blueprints, really. They just show you what the song could be, but they’re not necessarily the best performance of them. Whereas if you listen to … oh, I don’t know, the great records of ’67, they actually sound like the best performances you could get.”
He mentions that particular year not offhandedly, but because that’s the theme of the conversation: He’s just released an album, 1967: Vacations in the Past, which is a collection of covers of songs released in 1967, and one original song—the title track. Boasting his takes on Procol Harum’s “A Whiter Shade of Pale,” the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life,” Pink Floyd’s “See Emily Play,” and Small Faces’ “Itchycoo Park,” among eight other tracks, it serves as a sort of soundtrack or musical accompaniment to his new memoir, 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left.
Hitchcock, who was 14 years old and attending boarding school in England in 1967, describes how who he is today is encased in that period of his life, much like a mosquito in amber. But why share that with the world now?
In the mid ’70s, before he launched his solo career, Hitchcock was the leader of the psychedelic group the Soft Boys.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/tinnitus photography
“I’m 71; I’ve been alive quite a long time,” he shares. “If I want to leave a record of anything apart from all the songs I’ve written, now is a good time to do it. By writing about 1966 to ’67, I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
Hopefully, I say, the publication of these works won’t ring as some sort of death knell for him.
“Well, it’s a relative death knell,” he replies. “But everyone’s on the conveyor belt. We all go over the edge. And none of our legacies are permanent. Even the plastic chairs and Coke bottles and stuff like that that we’re leaving behind.... In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth. But I suppose you do probably get to an age where you want to try and explain yourself, maybe to yourself. Maybe it’s me that needs to read the book, you know?”
“I’m basically giving the context for Robyn Hitchcock, as Robyn Hitchcock then lived the rest of his life.”
To counter his description of his songs above, I would say that Hitchcock’s performances on 1967: Vacations in the Past carve out their own deserved little planet in the vintage-rock Milky Way. I was excited in particular by some of his selections: the endorsement of foundational prog in the Procol Harum cover; the otherwise forgotten Traffic tune, “No Face, No Name and No Number,” off of Mr. Fantasy, the Mamas & the Papas’ nostalgic “San Francisco,” and of course, the aforementioned Floyd single. There’s also the lesser known “My White Bicycle” by Tomorrow and “I Can Hear the Grass Grow” by the Move, and the Hendrix B-side, “Burning of the Midnight Lamp.”
Through these recordings, Hitchcock pays homage to “that lovely time when people were inventing new strands of music, and they couldn’t define them,” he replies. “People didn’t really know what to call Pink Floyd. Was it jazz, or was it pop, or psychedelia, or freeform, or systems music?”
His renditions call to mind a cooking reduction, defined by Wikipedia as “the process of thickening and intensifying the flavor of a liquid mixture, such as a soup, sauce, wine, or juice, by simmering or boiling.” Hitchcock’s distinctive, classic folk-singer voice and steel-string-guided arrangements do just that to this iconic roster. There are some gentle twists and turns—Eastern-instrumental touches; subtly applied, ethereal delay and reverb, and the like—but nothing that should cloud the revived conduit to the listener’s memory of the originals.
And yet, here’s his review of his music, in general: “I hear [my songs] back and I think, ‘God, my voice is horrible! This is just … ugh! Why do I sing through my nose like that?’ And the answer is because Bob Dylan sang through his nose, you know. I was just singing through Bob Dylan’s nose, really.”
1967: Vacations in the Past features 11 covers of songs that were released in 1967, and one original song—the title track.
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“I wait for songs to come to me: They’re independent like cats, rather than like dogs who will faithfully trail you everywhere,” Hitchcock explains, sharing about his songwriting process. “All I can do is leave a plate of food out for the songs—in the form of my open mind—and hope they will appear in there, hungry for my neural pathways.”
Once he’s domesticated the wild idea, he says, “It’s important to remain as unselfconscious as possible in the [writing] process. If I start worrying about composing the next line, the embryonic song slips away from me. Often I’m left with a verse-and-a-half and an unresolved melody because my creation has lost its innocence and fled from my brain.
“[Then] there are times when creativity itself is simply not what’s called for: You just have to do some more living until the songs appear again. That’s as close as I can get to describing the process, which still, thankfully, remains mysterious to me after all this time.”
“In 10- or 20-thousand-years’ time, we’ll probably just be some weird, scummy layer on the great fruitcake of the Earth.”
In the prose of 1967: How I Got There and Why I Never Left, Hitchcock expresses himself similarly to how he does so distinctively in his lyrics and speech. Amidst his tales of roughing his first experiences in the infamously ruthless environs of English boarding school, he shares an abundance of insight about his parents and upbringing, as well as a self-diagnosis of having Asperger’s syndrome—whose name is now gradually becoming adapted in modern lexicon to “low-support-needs” autism spectrum disorder. When I touch on the subject, he reaffirms the observation, and elaborates, “I think I probably am also OCD, whatever that means. I’ve always been obsessed with trying to get things in the right order.”
He relates an anecdote about his school days: “So, if I got out of lunch—‘Yippee! I’ve got three hours to dress like a hippie before they put me back in my school clothes. Oh damn, I’ve put the purple pants on, but actually, I should put the red ones on. No! I put the red ones on; it’s not good—I’ll put my jeans on.’
Robyn Hitchcock's Gear
Hitchcock in 1998, after embarking on the tour behind one of his earlier acoustic albums, Moss Elixir.
Guitars
- Two Fylde Olivia acoustics equipped with Sennheiser II lavalier mics (for touring)
- Larrivée acoustic
- Fender Telecaster
- Fender Stratocaster
Strings & Picks
- Elixir .011–.052 (acoustic)
- Ernie Ball Skinny Top Heavy Bottom .010–.054 (electric)
- Dunlop 1.0 mm
“I’d just get into a real state. And then the only thing that would do would be listening to Trout Mask Replica by Captain Beefheart. There was something about Trout Mask that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa! This music is it.’”
With him having chosen to cover “See Emily Play,” a Syd Barrett composition, the conversation soon turns to the topic of the late, troubled songwriter. I comment, “It’s hard to listen to Syd’s solo records.... It’s weird that people enabled that. You can hear him losing his mind.”
“You can, but at the same time, the fact they enabled it means that these things did come out,” Robyn counters. “And he obviously had nothing else to give after that. So, at least, David Gilmour and the old Floyd guys.... It meant they gave the world those songs, which, although the performances are quite … rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“There was something about Trout Mask Replica that was so liberating that I thought, ‘Oh, I don’t care what trousers I’m wearing. This is just, whoa!’”
I briefly compare Barrett to singer-songwriter Daniel Johnston, and we agree there are some similarities. And then with a segue, ask, “When did you first fall in love with the guitar? Was it when you came home from boarding school and found the guitar your parents gifted you on your bed?”
Robyn pauses thoughtfully. “Ah, I think I liked the idea of the guitar probably around that time,” he shares. “I always used to draw men with guns. I’m not really macho, but I had a very kind of post-World War II upbringing where men were always carrying guns. And I thought, ‘Well, if he’s a man, he’s got to carry a gun.’ Then, around the age of 13, I swapped the gun for the guitar. And then every man I drew was carrying a guitar instead.”
Elaborating on getting his first 6-string, he says, “I had lessons from a man who had three fingers bent back from an industrial accident. He was a nice old man with whiskers, and he showed me how to get the guitar in tune and what the basic notes were. And then I got hold of a Bob Dylan songbook, and—‘Oh my gosh, I can play “Mr. Tambourine Man!”’ It was really fast—about 10 minutes between not being able to play anything, and suddenly being able to play songs by my heroes.”
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Hitchcock does me the kindness, during our atypically deep conversation—at least, for a press interview—of sharing more acute perceptions of his parents, and their own neurodivergence. Ultimately, he feels that his mother didn’t necessarily like him, but loved the idea of him—and that later in life, he came to better understand his lonely, depressive father. “My mother was protective but in an oddly cold way. People are like that,” he shares. “We just contain so many things that don’t make sense with each other: colors that you would not mix as a painter; themes you would not intermingle as a writer; characters you would not create.... We defy any sense of balance or harmony.
“Although the performances are quite rickety, quite fragile, they’re incredibly beautiful songs. There’s nothing forced about Barrett. He can only be himself.”
“The idea of normality.... ‘Normal’ is tautological,” he continues. “Nothing is normal. A belief in normality is an aberration. It’s a form of insanity, I think.
“It’s just hard for us to accept ourselves because we’re brought up with the myth of normality, and the myth of what people are supposed to be like gender-wise, sex-wise, and psychologically what we’re supposed to want. And in a way, some of that’s beginning to melt, now. But that probably just causes more confusion. It’s no wonder people like me want to live in 1967.”
YouTube It
In this excerpt from the Jonathan Demme-directed concert film of Robyn Hitchcock, Storefront Hitchcock, the songwriter performs an absurdist “upbeat” song about a man who dies of cancer.
The legendary bass amp used by Geddy Lee and Glenn Hughes has been redesigned and revamped.
The new AD200 is still designed on the premise that the best tone comes from the shortest signal path from bass to speaker. Whatever type of bass, playing style, or genre of music, the AD200 faithfully retains the tone of that instrument.
The addition of a new clean switch, in combination with a powerful three-band EQ, gives AD200 players an even broader frequency spectrum to dial into their amp. In addition, a brand new output transformer, with 3 inches of laminations, harnesses double the power at 30Hz, offering better response at low frequencies. ‘It now pushes more air, flaps more trouser leg — simple as that,’ explains Orange Amps Technical Director Ade Emsley. From mellow hues to heavy, percussive growl and even slap bass, the ultimate incarnation of the AD200, has just become even more versatile.
Internal changes make the amp easier to service and maintain. Each output valve now has its own 12 turn bias pot, so unmatched valves can sit side by side. ‘Now, any tech with a multimeter can bias the amp and match the valves into the amp,’ explains Emsley. ‘So, if you’re on the road with a band, you can go swap a worn valve for a new one, dial it in and you’re good to go.’ Whilst the four KT88 output valves push 200 Watts of power, the amp will run equally as well on 6550s or a combination of the two.
‘It’s a big improvement on the previous version,’ says Ade Emsley, of his work on the updated AD200. ‘It still does everything the old one does, it’s still the industry standard, but it’s now simpler, easier to use, easier to service and futureproof.’
The new, decluttered front panel design is reminiscent of the company’s iconic 1970’s amps with its original ‘bubble-writing’ Orange logo and the ‘pics-only’ hieroglyphs, all wrapped in the company’s distinctive orange Tolex covering.
Over the last forty years, the Orange Bass Cabinets have become an undeniable industry standard. They have been remodelled to use Celestion Pulse XL bass speakers across the OBC810C, OBC410HC, and OBC115C cabs. The upgrade delivers a tight, punchy low-end with a warm mid-range that’s full of presence. The premium build of these cabinets remains, delivering players, bands and techs the road-worthy dependability they demand. In addition, the popular OBC410HC has been modified by removing one vertical partition and strengthening the horizontal one to be lighter and tighten up low-end response.
For more information, please visit orangeamps.com.
Designed in collaboration with Blu DeTiger, this limited-edition bass guitar features a Sky Burst Sparkle finish, custom electronics, and a chambered lightweight ash body.
"This bass is a reflection of everything I love about playing," said Blu DeTiger. "I wanted an instrument that could handle the diversity of sounds I create, from deep, funky grooves to melodic lines that cut through the mix. Fender and I worked closely together to make sure this bass not only looks amazing but sounds incredible in any setting."
Featured as the cover of the Forbes 30 Under 30 music list, Blu, who defines her musical style in the "groovy Indie” genre blending elements of Pop, Rock, and Funk, represents the next generation of pop music, earning accolades and a dedicated global fanbase with her work alongside top artists and successful solo releases. Bringing her signature sound and style, Blu marks a new milestone in her storied partnership with Fender and solidifying her influence on the future of music in creating the Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass.
Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass ($1,599.99) - From the Sky Burst Sparkle to the chrome hardware and mirrored pickguard, every detail on this Jazz Bass echoes Blu’s artistic vision. The offset ash body is chambered to keep this bass as lightweight and comfortable as possible. The satin finished maple neck, bound 9.5” rosewood fingerboard and vintage tall frets provide smooth playability. The Custom Blu DeTiger Fireball bass humbucker and Player Plus Noiseless Jazz Bass Pickups fuse vintage charm with modern punch. The bass also includes an 18V Player Plus preamp with 3-band EQ and active/passive toggle, great for sculpting your tone and ideal for capturing the funky snap and growl that defines Blu’s sound. With its inspired aesthetics, signature sonics and Blu-approved features, the Limited Edition Blu DeTiger x Player Plus Jazz Bass lets you tap into the infectious pop energy that keeps this star shining!
Her successful releases including "Figure It Out,” "Vintage," and recent album “All I Ever Want is Everything” have earned her accolades and sent her on the road to tour across the world to perform for her dedicated fanbase. Her distinct style of playing has also seen her play live with top tier artists such as Olivia Rodrigo, Bleachers, Dominic Fike, Caroline Polachek, Chromeo, and more.