The Spirit Fall trio: drummer Brian Blade (right) and saxophonist Chris Potter (center) joined Patitucci (left) for a single day at The Bunker. “Those guys are scary. It almost puts pressure on me, how good they are, because they get it really fast,” says Patitucci.
In 1959, Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue and John Coltrane’s Giant Steps—two of the most influential albums in jazz history—were recorded. It’s somewhat poetic that four-time Grammy-winning jazz bass icon John Patitucci was born that same year. In addition to a storied career as a bandleader, Patitucci cemented his legacy through his lengthy association with two giants of jazz: keyboardist Chick Corea, with whom Patitucci enjoyed a 10-year tenure as an original member of his Elektric and Akoustic bands, and saxophonist Wayne Shorter’s quartet, of which he was a core member for 20 years. Patitucci has also worked with a who’s who of jazz elites like Herbie Hancock, McCoy Tyner, Dizzy Gillespie, and Michael Brecker.
What distinguishes Patitucci is that he is one of the few jazz musicians who simultaneously enjoys a vibrant career as a classical bassist and first-call session bassist. His résumé—which includes recordings with pop icons like Sting and Bon Jovi, and hundreds of film dates—is virtually unparalleled. Patitucci also composes classical music and is frequently commissioned to write music for string quartets and other chamber ensembles. Among his numerous compositions are a piece for 6-string electric bass and string orchestra that was performed with Suono e Oltre, a chamber orchestra in Italy. In short, Patitucci is the very rare jack of all trades who is also exceptional at all.
Freedom without Chords
Patitucci’s latest release, Spirit Fall, is a trio album featuring Patitucci, drummer Brian Blade, and saxophonist Chris Potter. This instrumentation leaves out a traditional chordal instrument, and can be tricky to make sound full, as there is a large harmonic hole in the sonic space. But in the hands of master musicians, this setting offers more room for harmonic exploration and conversational interplay amongst the band members. Patitucci has been exploring this chord-less format since 2009’s Remembrance featuring Blade on drums and Joe Lovano on saxophone.Throughout Spirit Fall the trio employs a variety of textures and colors to make for an engaging listen. “Pole Star” has an open feel with the counterpoint between acoustic bass and sax discreetly implying the underlying progression. “Lipim,” which means hope in Cameroonian, has a lively afrobeat groove and a ridiculous sax solo by Chris Potter. Like many of his solos on Spirt Fall, Potter’s solo on “Lipim” veers through several harmonic detours that would have likely been hampered if a chordal instrument were imposing the harmony. “Spirit Fall” and “Thoughts and Dreams” sees Patitucci using his 6-string electric to explore gorgeously haunting figures. The bass solo on “Spirit Fall” sees Patitucci almost accompanying himself as he alternates between low notes and chords against blistering single-note lines.
Even though Patitucci had the luxury of studio time, Spirit Fall was recorded quickly, with mostly first or second takes, and the occasional third take. The trio was able to record a powerful musical statement in such a short time because they are a working band as opposed to hired guns that might possibly play together for the first time at the session.
John Patitucci's Gear
“I’m just a kid from Brooklyn,” says Patitucci. It was his formative years spent with his older brother (who played guitar) that led him to the bass.
Photo by Dave Stapleton
Guitars
- Yamaha TRBJP2 Signature Model 6-String
- Yamaha Custom Semi-Hollow 6-String
- 1965 Fender P Bass (Used on “Lipim”)
- Gagliano Double Bass
Amps
- Aguilar DB 751 for acoustic bass
- Aguilar Tone Hammer for electric bass
- Aguilar 4x10 cabinet
- Aguilar 1x12 cabinet
- Grace Design FELiX Version 2
- Grace Design m303 DI
Effects
- Line 6 HX Stomp
- Line 6 DL4
Strings and Accessories
- D’Addario Nickel Round Strings (.032-.045-.065-.085-.105-.130)
- Gruvgear Signature Straps
- Pirastro Evah Pirazzi Weich gauge
- Pirastro Perpetual
Prior to the recording, Patitucci sent demos out, and by the time they got to the studio they were ready to commit to tape. They finished the whole record in just one day without any rehearsals. “Not with those guys,” says Patitucci. “Those guys are scary. It almost puts pressure on me, how good they are, because they get it really fast [laughs]. I was hoping that my good takes were theirs too.”
Interestingly enough, while iconic chord-less trio albums by saxophonists like Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane, and Joe Henderson played a big role in Patitucci’s musical upbringing, he came to record with that instrumentation almost by accident. “We were going to rehearse for that record [Remembrance], and [pianist] Brad Mehldau, who played on some tracks, couldn’t make the rehearsal,” recalls Patitucci. “So we rehearsed at Lovano’s house and it sounded so good I was almost like, ‘Wow, maybe we should do the record as a trio.’ But I had all this music written that really was for the piano. So I said, ‘Well, maybe someday.’ And then finally we got around to it.”
Spirit Fall was tailored to the sensibilities of Blade and Potter, both of whom Patitucci has played with a lot over the years. “We have a relationship and we have a sound together already because of the way they play. Brian’s sense of dynamics has made it easier for me to get the kind of acoustic bass sound live that I've always wanted to get. It’s not easy to do that if the drummer can’t play those wide dynamics like Brian can,” explains Patitucci. “And Chris has been playing my music for years. He’s just an incredible interpreter of my music, and I love that. I remember using him in the early ’90s. Interestingly enough, around the time I did Imprint, I was using him and I was also using Mark Turner. And it’s funny. I started teaching college [Patitucci was Professor of Jazz Studies at City College of New York and is currently teaching at Berklee College of Music] a lot in 2000, and all my students were trying to sound like those guys.”“As a composer, I wanted to have a chance to have major control over the sound and how we did things, as opposed to a live record.”
As a precursor to Spirit Fall, in 2022 Patitucci had recorded Live in Italy with the same lineup of Blade and Potter. He could have easily just done Spirit Falllive againwith the trio but this time he specifically chose to bring them into the studio. “As a composer, I wanted to have a chance to have major control over the sound and how we did things, as opposed to a live record,” explains Patitucci. “Live records are great, but I wanted to record in the studio with that band so we can get into some new compositions I was writing, and some through-composed things with the 6-string, as well as the acoustic.”
How Chick Helped Turn Four into Six
Patitucci isn’t fond only of the traditional trio sans chordal instrument format. In fact, he’s recorded in just about every context you can imagine. From completely solo bass on Soul of the Bass, to his Electric Guitar Quartet with two guitarists—Adam Rogers and Steve Cardenas on Brooklyn, to guitar trio plus string quartet plus Chris Potter on Line by Line. Patitucci uses each situation as a way to grow musically.When Patitucci first started playing with Corea it was in the trio format, along with drummer Dave Weckl. Corea was a keyboardist who covered a huge sonic range and Patitucci saw this as an opportunity to push the creative envelope. “Chick and I became very close. I had enormous respect and love for him and he taught me a lot. That’s how I really discovered the 6-string, because I felt like I needed it orchestrationally to play in that band,” says Patitucci. “I started playing with Chick and at first I played my 4-string, and it’s a trio, but I have to blow on every song. And he’s got all these synths, and I’m thinking, ‘Man, I need a low string, because he’s playing all these low notes. I want to play the low notes.’ [laughs] I need a 5-string at least. Then I heard Anthony Jackson play the six. He was the pioneer who invented it.”
Spirit Fall is the documentation of a working band exploring new music in the studio. It features all new compositions and an inventive take on “House of Jade,” written by Patitucci’s longtime mentor, Wayne Shorter.
Corea fronted the money for Patitucci’s first 6-string—a Ken Smith—and took some money out of his check every week to pay it off. The transition to the 6-string wasn’t immediate for Patitucci, however. There was actually a big learning curve to the new instrument. To make matters even more daunting, the first big tour was to begin two weeks after Patitucci received the new instrument. Despite all the potential risks, Corea was very encouraging. “Chick was really patient. It was ridiculous. It was so hard. I was just a glutton for punishment,” admits Patitucci. “I just wanted the sound, and I was so naive about what it would be like. When I got the 6-string, it was a couple of weeks before we started going out on major tours and I was clamming. Like I would go down to what I thought was the E string but was now the B string.”
Once he got a handle on it, the 6-string allowed Patitucci to finally maximize the potential of his fluid soloing style. “I wanted to play the 6-string because when the blowing comes around, the C string helps me get over the top as a band,” says Patitucci. “Chick dug the fact that when I was blowing I wanted to sound more like a tenor player.”
“Wayne [Shorter] made me have the courage to play very little and hang a note up in the air.”
Shortly after Patitucci joined his band, Corea convinced GRP Records to sign Patitucci, whose 1987 eponymous first solo album reached number 1 on the Billboard Top Jazz Albums chart. Patitucci reflects, “The two biggest long term influences in terms of mentoring and what they did for my career would have been Chick Corea and then Wayne Shorter.”
The Spirit of Shorter
Patitucci first met Shorter in 1986, during the Chick, Wayne, and Al (Di Meola) tour. A year later Shorter asked Patitucci to record several tracks on his album, Phantom Navigator. This began his association with Shorter and led to Patitucci ultimately joining Shorter’s quartet in 2000.
It’s fitting that the only non-original tune on Spirit Fall is a Shorter tune, “House of Jade.” Shorter’s highly individual approach—particularly the electric stuff he was doing from the Atlantisperiod—shaped a lot of Patitucci’s conception of music. “I was playing electric bass and all the tunes were through-composed, except the blowing was like on one chord. And, you know, that’s challenging, actually,” reveals Patitucci. “And he was creating these incredible things, and he could do it with density or almost nothing, almost like one note. His lyricism and melodicism is so powerful that it really changed me. I was like, ‘Wow, I want to play like that. I want to be able to have a sound that I can be confident enough about to leave a ton of space and be able to just let space happen.’ Like, he got that from Miles.”
Moving to a 6-string bass wasn’t as natural for Patitucci as you might think. “When I got the 6-string, it was a couple of weeks before we started going out on major tours [with Chick Corea] and I was clamming.”
The minimalist approach that Shorter used at times was a stark contrast to some of the over-the-top pyrotechnics Corea’s Elektric Band was known for. “I was always into melodies too, but yes, in Chick’s band there were a lot of changes to play over, and sometimes a lot of fast tempos,” says Patitucci. “It wasn’t only chops, there were a lot of melodies and we played ballads too. I mean, I wanted to do that, but I didn’t have the courage to. Wayne made me have the courage to play very little and hang a note up in the air. With the 6-string, you can really do that. I started to realize that I was really interested in moving people in that way too.”
The Journey of the Kid from Brooklyn
Subliminally, the transition from 4- to 6-string bass might harken back to Patitucci’s childhood in East Flatbush, Brooklyn. He originally picked up the guitar, influenced by his brother Tom who had already been playing. Tom tried to teach him but ultimately the guitar just didn’t connect, and Tom sensed it. “He just said, ‘Why don’t you try the bass?’” recalls Patitucci. “Because we can play together then.” And that’s where it all began.
At 10, Patitucci got his first bass, a short-scale Sears Telstar bass that was hanging on a wall like a decoration down the street at somebody’s house on East 39th Street. “We bought it for 10 bucks and I thought it was great,” reflects Patitucci, who enjoyed rock ’n’ roll and James Jamerson’s playing on Motown Records in his formative years.
When he was 13, Patitucci’s family moved out to the West Coast. Soon after the move, Patitucci started learning the acoustic bass, and by the early ’80s, Patitucci’s career started taking off. In 1996 he moved back to New York, where he continues to break new musical ground.
With a career spanning over four decades and still going strong, Patitucci has achieved the dream that many aspiring musicians long for. What is the secret to his success? “Nobody knows the secret and anybody who tells you they know that is lying,” says Patitucci. “I don't even deserve it. I think that God was really good to me and blessed me. He somehow allowed me to have my dream come true. I look at it now as a 65-year old guy and go, ‘Wow, that was really a long shot.’ [laughs] It’s kind of unbelievable. You know what, I mean? I’m just this kid from Brooklyn, you know?”YouTube It
This trio rendition of the Beatles’ “And I Love Her” showcases John Patitucci’s ability to add chordal textures on his 6-string bass to create a full sound, even without a conventional chordal instrument like guitar or piano.
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The Brian May Gibson SJ-200 12-string in the hands of the artist himself.
Together, with a legion of Vox AC30s and a few effects, May and his homemade Red Special have created some of the richest, most glorious guitar sounds that have ever been documented. It is with that guitar in his hands that he’s crafted everything from his velveteen guitar orchestras to his frenetic riffs and luxuriant harmonies to his effortlessly lyrical leads, which matched the dramatic melodic motifs of Freddie Mercury in one of the most dynamic lead singer/guitarist pairings in rock music.
Although it has a smaller role in his body of work, overshadowed by such an accomplished, prolific electric guitar C.V., May’s acoustic playing is a major part of the story of his music. His bold opening strums of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” are some of the most recognizable D-major chords in the classic-rock canon, and his supportive work on “Spread Your Wings” adds lush dimension between Freddie Mercury’s arpeggiated piano chords and his rich electric guitarmonies. The multi-tracked 12-string figure that opens “’39”—his “cosmic folk song”—is among his most recognizable.
It’s a surprise, then, that when I ask May about the acoustic guitars used while recording with Queen, the most notable is his Hallfredh acoustic, a “cheap as hell” guitar from a virtually unknown brand. “My little old acoustic, which I swapped with my dear friend at school,” he reminisces. “The strings were so low on it that everything buzzed like a sitar. I capitalized on that and put pins on it instead of the bridge saddles, and you can hear that stuff on ‘The Night Comes Down’ [from Queen]. I used it all the way through Queen’s recordings, like on ‘Jealousy’ [from Jazz] years later and lots of things.” He also recalls his Ovation 12-string and some others, but the Hallfredh remains in the foreground of his acoustic memories.
The cosmic inlays on the Brian May SJ-200 represent the rock legend’s work in the field of astrophysics, in which he holds a PhD.
In recent years, May has been performing the 1975 ballad and emotional Mercury vehicle “Love of My Life,” which appears on A Night at the Opera, as an acoustic tribute to the late singer. May and his acoustic 12-string sit center stage each night as he leads the crowd through a heartwarming rendition of the song, joined at its climax by a video of Mercury. For that powerful, commanding moment, he’s relied on “a number of guitars we won’t mention, but it just came to the point where I’m thinking, ‘This isn’t sounding as good as I would like it to.’”
At one concert, a Gibson representative who was around piped up and offered to make him a guitar to his specs specifically for this piece. “I was surprised that they would notice me in the first place,” May recalls, “because part of me never grew up.” A surprising take from a rock star of such stature, but he explains, “I’m still a kid who was reading the Gibson catalogs and not able to afford anything, seeing the SGs and the Les Pauls and dreaming of being able to own a Gibson guitar. I now have a couple of the SGs, which I absolutely love, but, of course, I made my own guitar and I now have my own guitar company, so I went a different way. But to me this was a joy that they would offer to make me a guitar, which I could take out onstage.”
After building one for the guitarist, Gibson created a limited edition run of 100 instruments of the new model, called the Brian May SJ-200 12-string. Featuring a AAA Sitka spruce top with a vintage sunburst finish, AAA rosewood back and sides, a 2-piece AAA maple neck with walnut stringer, and a rosewood fretboard, it’s a top-of-the-line acoustic. The most noticeable feature on the SJ-200 is probably the string arrangement, which is flipped—as is most commonly found on Rickenbacker 12-strings—with the lower string above the higher string in each course. May has made that modification on other 12s, because he likes to string the high string first when fingerpicking. “You get an incredibly pure sound that way,” he points out. “‘Love of My Life’ is a good example—if it’s strung the other way, it sounds very different.”
On its pickguard, all seven of the other planets in our solar system are etched. The shaded one, close at hand, is Mercury, a tribute to the Queen singer.
May’s aesthetic customizations draw from his astrophysics work and add a personal sparkle to the large-bodied acoustic. The pickguard features a custom design with the seven other planets in the system, which is to say, not Earth. Mercury sits close at hand, a tribute to the singer. The fretboard and headstock include 8-point star inlays—to give a “more cosmic feeling”—that are made from agoya shell, as are the bridge inlays.
“It became a discussion about art and science, which I love,” May says of the design process. “That’s probably the biggest thread in my life, this path trodden, some people would say, between art and science. But I would say that they’re the same thing. So, I just tread among art and science.”
May’s own Gibson has already appeared in concert during the “Love of My Life” segment of Queen’s show, and occasionally for “’39.” On social media, where May stays active, many fans caught a glimpse of the guitar when he posted a new song for Christmas Eve. “I just wanted to say Merry Christmas, and that’s the way it came out,” he says. “It was incredibly spontaneous. I wanted it to be a gift. I didn’t want it to be, in any way, a way of advertising or making money or anything. It was just a Merry Christmas gift to whoever wants to listen to me.”
“It became a discussion about art and science, which I love,”
While that was one of the first things created with the new Gibson, he has more plans. “I’ve been playing around with it. In fact, we’ve been dropping the D,” he says, hinting at some future plans with guitarist-vocalist Arielle. “I have quite a few songs with the bottom D dropped. I haven’t normally played them acoustic or 12-string, but I’m discovering that some of that sounds really good. It gets such a lovely big clang and a big depth to it.”
Recently, May spent a great deal of time looking back as the band prepped the Queen I box set. The remixed, remastered, and very expanded version of their 1973 debut, Queen—they’ve added the “I” here—which was released last October, encompasses a rebuild of the entire record, plus additional takes, backing tracks, a version recorded specifically for John Peel’s BBC Radio 1 show, and a 1974 live concert recording from London’s Rainbow Theatre.
May says of his new Gibson: “To me, this was a joy that they would offer to make me a guitar."
Revisiting this early document over 50 years later, it’s amazing to hear how well-developed the guitarist’s sound already was—full of the propulsive riffs and harmonies that would become part of his signature. May concurs, “You go back into these tracks quite forensically, and I hear myself in the naked tracks and I think, ‘Wow, I didn’t realize that I could do that at that point.’ It must have happened very quickly.”
Reflecting on those formative times, he continues, “I think there’s a period of just exploding, knowing what it is in your head, and striving to make what you play match what’s in your head. But I see it in other people, too. Sometimes, I go back and listen to the first Zeppelin album, and they were pretty young when they made that. But I think, ‘My God, how did they get that far and so quick?’”
“I thought guitars do work as primary orchestral instruments, so that’s what I want to do.”
Before Queen, May had already recorded a two-part guitar solo on the song “Earth,” a late-’60s track recorded with his earlier band, Smile, which also featured future Queen drummer Roger Taylor. While that lead certainly points toward the ambition in May’s later work, its raw untamedness doesn’t quite show evidence of his ultimate precision. But he says he had it in mind from early on. “There weren’t any more tracks to do three parts” when they recorded with Smile, he says, “but I always dreamed of it. It goes back a long, long way to hearing harmonies in other ways from the Everly Brothers, from Buddy Holly and the Crickets, from all sorts of things that we were listening to when we were kids.
“I wanted to make the sound of an orchestra just using guitars, and there’s other little inspirations along the way,” he continues. “Jeff Beck was an inspiration because there’s that wonderful track, ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining,’ which Jeff hated. But there’s one bit where he double-tracks the solo and in just one point it breaks into a two-part harmony, probably by accident. I guess I should have asked him—damn well wish I had. But that sound echoed in my head, and I thought guitars do work as primary orchestral instruments, so that’s what I want to do. I could hear it in my head for a long time before I could make it actually happen.”
Brian May and his Red Special at a recent concert.
Photo by Steve Rose
Though the Queenrecording sessions gave the guitarist his first opportunity to explore the larger harmonized sections that would become part of his signature, many of the sounds on the record left the band dissatisfied. Recorded at Trident Studios in London, the young band could only afford to use the room during downtime. Over the course of four months, they had sessions, usually at night, with in-house producers John Anthony and Roy Thomas Baker, both early supporters. However, the Trident style and sound wasn’t what Queen had in their collective ears, and they’ve remained unhappy with the sonic quality of their debut all these years.
The drums were the band’s primary issue, which Taylor describes as having a “very dry, quite fat, dead sound.” May’s tone is recognizably his own. “Well, I’m a very pushy person,” he laughs. “But nevertheless, it was difficult for me, too. Because of this Trident style of recording, the intention was not to have room sound on it. I kind of pushed, I suppose, to have a mic on the back of the amp as well as the front. That gave me a bit more air. I did feel a little hampered and the change is more subtle on the guitar, but it’s there.
“Jeff Beck was an inspiration because there’s that wonderful track, ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining,’ which Jeff hated. But there’s one bit where he double tracks the solo and in just one point it breaks into a two-part harmony, probably by accident.”
“It’s funny because it changed radically as time went on,” he continues. “And I can remember by the time we got to Sheer Heart Attack, Roy is putting mics all over the room and miking up windows in the booth and whatever to get maximum room sounds. It’s certainly nice to go back and make everything sound the way we pretty much would’ve liked it to sound at the time.”
With Queen I out, a new Queen IIset is in the works, which May calls “a very different kettle of fish.” The drum sounds on their sophomore effort were more in line with the band’s original vision, but the dense layers of overdubs that famously appear on the record came at a cost. “I think it is the biggest step musically and recording-wise that we ever made,” says May. “But there’s a lot of congestion in there. There’s mud because of all this generation-loss stuff [caused by overdubs], and because we liked to saturate the tape, which seemed like a good idea at the time. It made it sound loud. But if you disentangle that and get the bigness in other ways, I think Queen II is going to sound massive.”
The AAA rosewood back and sides of May’s signature acoustic are stunning.
At 77 years old, May certainly seems to keep his schedule packed with music work—not to mention his animal advocacy and scientific endeavors. In May of last year, though, everything came to a halt when the guitarist suffered a stroke. “I couldn’t get a fork from the table to my mouth without it all going all over the place,” he recalls. “It was scary.” Luckily, things began turning around quickly. “After only a few days, it’s amazing what you can get back. By sheer willpower, you just start retraining your muscle.” Not quite a year on when we speak, May estimates he’s regained 95 percent of his abilities, which, he says, “is enough.
“The short answer is, ‘I’m good,’” he assures.
May is in great spirits and appears excited about all his recent projects, finished and in-progress alike. In this time of looking back on his earliest works, I ask him to think about his beginnings, when he would gaze at Gibson catalogs but had to build his own guitar out of necessity, because, as he points out, he “couldn’t afford anything else.”
So, what would young Brian May, stepping into an afterhours session at Trident, making his band’s debut, think about his new limited edition signature model Gibson acoustic? He takes a long pause. “It would have been …” he pauses again, “unthinkable.”
YouTube It
On That’s the Price of Loving Me, “We’re Not Finished Yet” is a love letter to Wareham’s 1968 Gibson ES-335.
The singer-songwriter, 61, has crafted many such moments—most famously during the late ’80s and early ’90s, helping cement the dream-pop genre with cult-favorites Galaxie 500. Take the tenor saxophone, by Ralph Carney, that elevates the back half of “Decomposing Trees” from 1989’s On Fire, or the Mellotron-like atmosphere that bubbles up during “Spook” on This Is Our Music from 1990—both of which, notably, were recorded with journeyman producer Kramer, who’s part of Wareham’s rich sonic universe once again with the songwriter’s new solo album, That’s the Price of Loving Me.
Following This Is Our Music, the final Galaxie 500 album, Wareham and Kramer went their separate ways. The former founded the long-running indie-rock band Luna, formed the duo Dean & Britta with now-wife Britta Phillips, worked on film scores, and released a handful of solo projects. Kramer, meanwhile, grew into a hero of experimental music, playing with and producing everyone from John Zorn to Daniel Johnston. They stayed in touch, even as they drifted apart geographically, and always talked about working together again—but it took the weight of mortality to make it happen.
“[Kramer has] been saying for years, ‘It’s crazy we haven’t made a record together,’” says Wareham over Zoom, his shimmering silver hair flanked in the frame by a wall-hung cherry red Gibson SG and a poster of Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s 1975 drama Faustrecht der Freiheit. “He was living in Florida, and I was living elsewhere and doing other things. But I did lose a couple of friends over the pandemic, and it did occur to me, you can’t just say, ‘I’ll get to it’ forever. Not to be morbid, but we’re not gonna be here forever. We’re not getting any younger, are we?”
Dean Wareham's Gear
Wareham was a member of the early indie dream-pop trio Galaxie 500. After their split, he formed indie rock stalwarts Luna as well as Dean & Britta, with wife and Luna bandmate Britta Phillips.
Photo by Laura Moreau
Guitars
Amps
- Lazy J 20
- Mesa/Boogie California Tweed
Effects
- EAE Hypersleep reverb
- EAE Sending analog delay
- Dr Scientist Frazz Dazzler fuzz
- Danelectro Back Talk
- Joe Parker Raydeen overdrive
Strings, Picks, and Accessories
- Curtis Mangan nickel wounds (.010–.046)
- Dunlop Nylon .88 mm picks
- Truetone 1 Spot Pro CS12
In 2020, Dean & Britta recorded a covers album, Quarantine Tapes—the perfect opportunity, amid the agony of lockdown, to finally get Kramer involved. The producer mixed their hazy version of the Seekers’ “The Carnival Is Over,” which planted the seeds for a bigger collaboration on That’s the Price of Loving Me. At first, though, Wareham didn’t have any songs, so he gave himself a hard deadline by booking some time at L.A. studio Lucy’s Meat Market.
“What is it in a song that makes people cry? What is it that moves you? It’s something unexpected.”
“I don’t write songs every day—sometimes I don’t write songs for a whole year or something,” he says with a laugh. “The only thing that gets me to do it is booking studio time. Then I have to write some songs because it’ll be embarrassing if I show up with nothing.”
The space itself—decked out with a jaw-dropping amount of vintage guitars and amplifiers and keyboards—helped animate his sleepy-eyed and gently psychedelic songs. “I thought I had a few nice instruments,” Wareham says, “but I showed up, like, ‘Oh, your Les Paul’s from 1955? I think I’ll play this one. Your Martin is from the ’40s?’” Speed and spontaneity were essential: They worked six full days, with Kramer guiding him to capture every performance without overthinking it.
Wareham’s latest was produced by Kramer, a former member of Shockabilly, Bongwater, and the Butthole Surfers who owns the legendary underground label Shimmy-Disc. He produced all three Galaxie 500 LPs.
“[That’s] how I worked with Kramer back in the day too,” he recalls. “Maybe it kinda spoiled me—he was always like, ‘Yep, that’s it. Next!’ I got lazy about going back and redoing things. We’d make the decision and move on: keep that drum track and bass track. Maybe Britta [bass, backing vocals] would change a few things. Sometimes you’re with people who think every single thing should be replaced and made perfect, and you don’t actually have to do that. When it came time for me to overdub a guitar solo or something, Kramer would just allow me two takes generally: ‘Do it again a little differently. That’s it. That’s good.’”
“I thought I had a few nice instruments, but I showed up, like, ‘Oh, your Les Paul’s from 1955? I think I’ll play this one.’”
The material itself allowed for such malleability, with ringing chord progressions and gentle melodies often influenced by the musicians who happened to be gathered around him that day. “You Were the Ones I Had to Betray” has the baroque-pop sweetness of late-’60s Beatles, partly due to the sawing cellos of L.A. session player Gabe Noel, who also added some boomy bass harmonica to the climax. “It’s an instrument you’d mostly associate with the Beach Boys, I guess,” Wareham says. “It kinda sounds like a saxophone or something.”
Wareham, his 335, and Mesa/Boogie California Tweed at a recent Luna show, with bassist Britta Phillips in the background.
Photo by Mario Heller
It’s easy to get wrapped up in the warm hug of these arrangements, but it’s also worth highlighting Wareham’s lyrics—whether it’s the clever but subtle acrostic poetry of “The Mystery Guest” (“I’d never done that before, and it’s not that hard to do actually. Sometimes it’s just to give yourself a strange assignment to get yourself thinking in a different way”) or the hilarity of “We’re Not Finished Yet,” which scans as carnal but is actually a love letter to his semi-recently acquired 1968 Gibson ES-335.
“Sometimes it’s just to give yourself a strange assignment to get yourself thinking in a different way.”
“I read this poem about a guy polishing an antique wooden cabinet or something,” Wareham explains. “I thought, ‘That’s funny—it’s vaguely sexual, how he’s like rubbing this thing.’ I thought it would be funny if I wrote a song not about a piece of furniture but about the guitar—the experience of buying this. The lyrics in there: ‘I waxed you; I rubbed you; I reamed you.’ It all sounds like a dirty song, but it’s like, ‘No, I had to get the peg holes reamed!’ It works kind of as a love song, but that’s what it’s really about.”
Which brings us back to that idea of the unexpected. The most beautiful touches on Loving Me, crafted with his ol’ producer pal, are the ones that appear out of nowhere—like the blossoming guitar overdubs of “New World Julie” and “Dear Pretty Baby.” Kramer, he says, liked to “run two or three guitar tracks at once, where it becomes a symphony of guitars.”
These surprises, indeed, are the moments that stick with you.
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Luna’s four-song performance on KEXP showcases Dean Wareham’s sparse, low-key indie rock vibe as well as his simple and sweet guitar embellishments.
