Former bandmates of the late Steve Marriott unite to oppose plans by the Marriott Estate to release "new" recordings created with AI technology. A growing list of musicians in opposition include: Peter Frampton, David Gilmour, Robert Plant, and more.
The debate over AI-generated vocals continued this week with an exclusive Variety feature article by executive music editor Jem Aswad reporting on a still-growing list of celebrated musicians uniting with Mollie Marriott, daughter of the late Steve Marriott, in objection to plans by the Marriott Estate to release “new” recordings from the legendary Rock & Roll Hall of Fame singer created with AI-powered technology. A wide range of Marriott’s close friends and fellow artists have joined together in opposition to the project, including Marriott’s former bandmates Small Faces’ Kenney Jones and Humble Pie’s Peter Frampton and Jerry Shirley, along with Robert Plant, David Gilmour, Paul Weller, Paul Rodgers, Joe Brown, Bryan Adams, Matt Sorum, Glenn Hughes, Gary Kemp, Bob Harris, and others.
As reported by Variety, Los Angeles-based independent label Cleopatra Records has engaged in discussions with the Marriott estate about completing some of his unfinished demos with the aid of AI technology, though the label ultimately plans to release the recordings in their original form “for now” via three as-yet-unscheduled compilations. Chris France, who has been managing director of Marriott’s estate since 1997, admits that while “there are no confirmed plans to use Steve Marriott’s voice on AI recordings, that does not mean a deal will not be done with one of several suitors who have made offers…I am afraid that [Mollie Marriott’s] opinions are of no consequence to me or his estate.”
Humble Pie founding member, drummer Jerry Shirley, confirmed an attempt by Cleopatra to create a version of the “Georgia on My Mind” with AI-generated vocals “by” Marriott which he could then compare the result with his memories of Marriott’s own informal renditions of the song. The AI recording was “horrible,” Shirley told Variety. “It sounded like someone trying to sound like someone trying to sound like Steve Marriott.”
“The Marriott Estate is due to release an AI solo album of old and new songs of my father, Steve,” said Mollie Marriott in a previously released official statement. “Sadly, the surviving family which comprises just my siblings Lesley, Toby, Tonya, and I, have nothing to do with the Estate as there was no will. It is run by my stepmother who was only with my father for two years prior to his death and has since been re-married.
“We, along with his bandmates of Humble Pie and Small Faces are looking to stop this album from happening as it would be a stain on my father’s name. Someone who was known as one of the greatest vocalists of our generation, with such a live and raw vocal, it would absolutely break his heart if he were alive to know this. This is only for money, not art nor appreciation.
“It is the start of a campaign I wish to lead against this sort of thing, where deceased artists have no rights and that everything natural in this world is truly dying, including creativity and the arts, as AI comes into play. It’s a sad world to behold.”
Steve Marriott who passed away in 1991 at the age of 44, was among the most gifted and iconic artists in the long-storied history of British music. In a career that spanned two decades, the singer-songwriter-guitarist co-founded two of the most acclaimed and influential bands of the 1960s and 1970s, Small Faces (with whom he was posthumously inducted in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame) and Humble Pie. Small Faces proved as influential as any band of their extraordinary era, bridging R&B, pop, soul, psychedelia, and the primal power of what soon became known as punk rock. The band’s distinctly English sound and vision later provided a blueprint for the Britpop movement of the 1990s. Upon Small Faces’ dissolution, Marriott co-founded Humble Pie and once again left his mark on rock ‘n’ roll with a new kind of hard rock built upon riff-driven no-frills boogie and simple raw power.
Marriott was already a star by the time he co-founded Small Faces, first as a child actor performing on London’s West End as The Artful Dodger in Oliver! and then as 16-year-old leader of the popular R&B group, The Moments. Marriott came together with drummer Kenney Jones and the late bassist-songwriter Ronnie Lane as Small Faces in 1965, joined the following year by keyboardist Ian MacLagan. The band immediately ascended to the forefront of the Mod scene with their high-energy sound, fronted by Marriott’s unmistakable soul-influenced vocals. Over their short but blazing lifespan, Small Faces scored eight UK Top 10 singles, including “Whatcha Gonna Do About It” (later covered by the Sex Pistols), “Here Comes The Nice,” “Itchycoo Park,” “Lazy Sunday,” “Tin Soldier,” and the #1 hit, “All or Nothing.” Their final album, 1968’s classic Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake, spent six weeks atop the album chart and to this day stands tall as a British psychedelic rock landmark for its singular collage of rousing lysergic R&B, folk eccentricity, and pop-art imagination.
Marriott departed Small Faces in 1969 and teamed with guitarist Peter Frampton, bassist Greg Ridley, and drummer Jerry Shirley as Humble Pie. Considered one of the first supergroups for each member’s previous involvement in other popular bands, Humble Pie instantly proved a momentous outfit, their crushing blend of hard rock, boogie, and blues providing an early example of what came to be known as heavy metal. Marriott led Humble Pie through UK and US success in a range of incarnations, encompassing a further range of influences – from country to soul – but all were hailed for their charged live performances and of course, Marriott’s irrepressible vocals and songcraft at the forefront. A variety of reunions, collaborations, and solo efforts followed Humble Pie’s initial success. Marriott carried on through the 1980s, lighting up live stages in the UK and the US with over 200 gigs each year before his death in a fire at his Essex home on April 20, 1991.
AI, which generated this image in seconds, can obviously do amazing things. But can it actually replace human creativity?
Technology has always disrupted the music biz, but we’ve never seen anything like this.
AI has me deeply thinking: Is guitar (or any instrument) still valid? Are musicians still valid? I don’t think the answer is as obvious as I’d like it to be.
As a professional musician, I’ve spent the vast majority of my days immersed in the tones of tube amps, the resistance of steel strings under my fingers, and the endless pursuit of musical expression. Each day, I strive to tap into the Source, channel something new into the world (however small), and share it. Yet, lately, a new presence has entered the room—artificial intelligence. It is an interloper unlike any I’ve ever encountered. If you’re thinking that AI is something off in the “not-too-distant future,” you’re exponentially wrong. So, this month I’m going to ask that we sit and meditate on this technology, and hopefully gain some insight into how we are just beginning to use it.
AI: Friend or Foe?
In the last 12 months, I’ve heard quite a bit of AI-generated music. Algorithms can now “compose,” “perform” (with vocals of your choosing), and “produce” entire songs in minutes, with prompts as flippant as, “Write a song about__in the style of__.” AI never misses a note and can mimic the finer details of almost any genre with unnerving precision. For those who are merely curious about music, or those easily distracted by novelty, this might seem exciting … a shortcut to creating “professional” sounding music without years of practice. But for those of us who are deeply passionate about music, it raises some profound existential questions.
When you play an instrument, you engage in something deeply human. Each musician carries their life experiences into their playing. The pain of heartbreak, the joy of new beginnings, or the struggle to find a voice in an increasingly noisy and artificial online world dominated by algorithms. Sweat, tears, and callouses develop from your efforts and repetition. Your mistakes can lead to new creative vistas and shape the evolution of your style.
Emotions shape the music we create. While an algorithm can only infer and assign a “value” to the vast variety of our experience, it is ruthlessly proficient at analyzing and recording the entire corpus of human existence, and further, cataloging every known human behavioral action and response in mere fractions of a second.
Pardon the Disruption
Technology has always disrupted the music industry. The invention of musical notation provided unprecedented access to compositions. The advent of records allowed performances of music to be captured and shared. When radio brought music into every home, there was fear that no one would buy records. Television added visual spectacle, sparking fears that it would kill live performance. MIDI revolutionized music production but raised concerns about replacing human players. The internet, paired with the MP3 format, democratized music distribution, shattered traditional revenue models, and shifted power from labels to artists. Each of these innovations was met with resistance and uncertainty, but ultimately, they expanded the ways music could be created, shared, and experienced.
Every revolution in art and technology forces us to rediscover what is uniquely human about creativity. To me, though, this is different. AI isn’t a tool that requires a significant amount of human input in order to work. It’s already analyzed the minutia of all of humanity’s greatest creations—from the most esoteric to the ubiquitous, and it is wholly capable of creating entire works of art that are as commercially competitive as anything you’ve ever heard. This will force us to recalibrate our definition of art and push us to dig deeper into our personal truths.
“In an age where performed perfection is casually synthesized into existence, does our human expression still hold value? Especially if the average listener can’t tell the difference?”
Advantage: Humans
What if we don’t want to, though? In an age where performed perfection is casually synthesized into existence, does our human expression still hold value? Especially if the average listener can’t tell the difference?
Of course, the answer is still emphatically “Yes!” But caveat emptor. I believe that the value of the tool depends entirely on the way in which it is used—and this one in particular is a very, very powerful tool. We all need to read the manual and handle with care.
AI cannot replicate the experience of creating music in the moment. It cannot capture the energy of a living room jam session with friends or the adrenaline of playing a less-than-perfect set in front of a crowd who cheers because they feel your passion. It cannot replace the personal journey you take each time you push through frustration to master a riff that once seemed impossible. So, my fellow musicians, I say this: Your music is valid. Your guitar is valid. What you create with your hands and heart will always stand apart from what an algorithm can generate.
Our audience, on the other hand, is quite a different matter. And that’s the subject for next month’s Dojo. Until then, namaste.
Genuine, dynamic Vox sound and feel. Plenty of different tone-sweetening applications. Receives other pedals as nicely as a real amp.
Can get icy quick. Preamp tube presents risk for damage.
$299
Tubesteader Roy
tubesteader.com
The Roy is an exceedingly faithful Vox box that brings genuine tube dynamics to your pedalboard.
This is an interesting moment for amp-in-a-box pedals. It used to be novel to have a little box that approximated the tone signature of an iconic amp. Nowadays, though, modeling pedals and profilers can give you many digital emulations in one package. Nevertheless, there are still worlds of possibility in pedals that copy amp topology in discrete form—particularly when you add a real preamp tube to that mix.
That’s what Montreal builder Tubesteader did with the Roy, their entry in the Vox-Top-Boost-AC30-in-a-box race. The Roy is a 2-channel preamp and overdrive built around a 12AX7 vacuum tube—a design gambit that is relatively uncommon if not totally unique. The tube makes the Roy look much more vintage in spirit at a time when sleek, black Helixes and Fractals are overtaking stages. In some ways, it looks like an antique. It can sound like one in the best way too.
Riding the Tube
The Roy comes in a handsome brownish-red enclosure, with an unsurprising control layout. The rightmost footswitch turns the pedal on and off, and the one at left switches between the identical channels. Each channel has an output volume and gain knob; the controls on the right are assigned to the default channel, and when you tap the left footswitch, you engage the left-side control tandem. The treble and bass controls between the two volume and gain knobs are shared by the two channels, but a post-EQ master tone cut control, which rolls off additional treble frequencies, is mounted on the crown of the pedal beside the power input. The input and output jacks occupy the left and right sides, along with a 3.5 mm jack for external operation. The Roy runs at 12 volts and draws 350 mA, and the included power supply can be reconfigured easily for a range of international outlets.
Tubesteader’s literature says the pedal’s tones are generated via a high-voltage transistor in the first gain stage coupled with the 12AX7, which operates at 260 volts. That preamp tube is nested at the top of the enclosure’s face, underneath a protective metal “roll bar”. Trusty as it looks, when there is a glass element on the exterior of a pedal’s housing, there’s an element of vulnerability, and transporting and using the Roy probably requires a more conscientious approach than a standard stompbox.
Royal Tones
Compared to the Vox's own Mystic Edge, an AC30-in-a-box from Vox powered by Korg’s NuTube vacuum fluorescent display technology, the Roy feels warmer, and more dynamic, proving that the 12AX7 isn’t just there for looks. The Mystic Edge could sound positively icy compared to the Roy’s smooth, even breakup. The Roy is very happy at aggressive settings, and in my estimation, it sounds best with output volumes driving an amp hard and the pedal’s gain around 3 o’clock. That recipe sounds good with single-coil guitars, but with a P-90-loaded Les Paul Junior, it achieves roaring classic-rock greatness. I’ve always felt Voxes, rather than Marshalls, are better vehicles for dirty punk chording. The Roy did nothing to dissuade me from that belief. And the pedals' midrange punch and bark in power-chord contexts lent authority and balance that makes such chords hit extra hard.
Though the Roy creates many of its own tasty drive tones, it really comes to life when pushed by a boost or overdrive, much like a real amp. When I punched it with a Fish Circuits Model One overdrive, the Roy was smoother and less spiky than a cranked AC30, yet there was plenty of note definition, attack, and the harmonic riches you’d turn to an AC for in the first place. A JFET SuperCool Caffeine Boost also brought additional depth and color to the output and broadened the pedal’s voice.
If you’re most comfortable with a real Vox amp, the Roy is a reliable and familiar-feeling stand-in when managing a different backline amp. In at least one way, though, the Roy is, perhaps, a bit toofaithful to its influence’s design: There’s a lot of treble on tap, and it’s easy to cook up tinnitus-inducing frequencies if you get too aggressive with the treble control. Noon positions on the cut/boost tone knobs sound pretty neutral. But I found it difficult to push the treble much past 2 o’clock without wincing—even with the tone cut control set at its darkest. (This quality, of course, may make the Roy a good match for squishier Fender-style designs). The relationship between the Roy’s treble and bass controls also takes time to master. The two don’t just add or boost their respective frequencies, but also add or subtract midrange, which can result in intense and sudden gain-response changes. As a general guideline, a light touch goes a long way when fine tuning these frequencies.The Verdict
The Roy isn’t exactly a bargain at $299. Then again, this Vox-in-a-box can stand in for real-deal Top Boost tones and the 2-channel design means you can move between an AC’s chimey cleans and ripping cranked sounds in a flash. If you’re squarely in the Vox amp camp, you’d be hard-pressed to find a more authentic means of achieving that range of clean-to-crunchy sounds.
Joni Mitchell’s rich, colorful altered-tuning chord voicings have set her work apart in its own musical universe, where the rest of us guitarists either scratch our heads in wonder or have to do dissertation-level research to unpack just how she gets her sound.
Joni Mitchell’s rich, colorful altered-tuning chord voicings have set her work apart in its own musical universe, where the rest of us guitarists either scratch our heads in wonder or have to do dissertation-level research to unpack just how she gets her sound. Dawes guitarist and songwriter Taylor Goldsmith gained firsthand experience with Mitchell’s songs when he joined her on stage—just check out 2022’s “Joni Jam” from the Newport Folk Festival, which also included Brandi Carlile, Blake Mills, Jon Batiste, and others.
Goldsmith joins us on this episode of the 100 Guitarists podcast. Together, we talk about Mitchell’s chord voicings and progressions, her tunings, what it’s like to share a stage with her, and Goldsmith wonders: Was Bob Dylan’s “Tangled Up in Blue” a nod to the songwriter’s 1971 album?
When we wrap up our conversation, we cover a new release of energetic, forward-leaning guitar cumbia by Los Pirañas and an album of Bach Partitas for Telecaster by guitarist Noel Johnston.
This episode is sponsored by L.R. Baggs.
Some names you’ve heard, others maybe not. But they all have a unique voice on the instrument.
Intermediate
Intermediate
• Open your ears to new influences.
• Understand how to create interlocking rhythm parts.
• Develop a new appreciate for the rhythmic complexity of Wayne Krantz, the effortless bebop of Biréli Lagrène, and the driving force that is David Williams.
The guitar has been a major factor in so many styles of music over the last 70 years, and any experienced musician can tell you that playing any one of those styles with authenticity takes countless hours of dedication. As we learn the instrument, we seek out music that we find inspiring to help guide us toward our voice. The legends we all know in the guitar pantheon have inspired millions of players. In my musical journey over the years, I’ve always been thrilled to discover unique musicians who never attained the same recognition as their more famous counterparts. With so much music at our disposal these days, I thought this group of guitarists deserved a little more spotlight. The inspiration and knowledge they have provided me were paramount in my development, and I wouldn’t be the player I am without them.
Biréli Lagrène’s Bombastic Bop
Standards was the first jazz guitar record I really listened to, and his playing on this entire album is devastating. There is so much groove, joy, and ferocity in every note. The way he lays ideas out on the fretboard made a lot of sense to me, his rhythms were intentional and clear, and it was surprisingly easy to dig into as a rock guitarist at the time. He has an extensive catalog of jazz, gypsy jazz, and fusion records with some of the best in the world, and he’s also a killer bass player who can sing just like Frank Sinatra! Ex. 1 is over the first eight measures of “Stella by Starlight.” I stole so much vocabulary from this solo that I can still play bits from memory 20 years later. Lagrène’s treatment of two-measure chunks to play his ideas was significantly helpful. Whether it was an engaging rhythmic phrase, constant eighth-notes, or just cramming in as much as he could, I stopped worrying so much about catching every chord change after I learned this one.
Ex. 1
Stella by Starlight
Old-School Swing!
George Barnes is a unique jazz guitarist who was a contemporary of Charlie Christian, Johnny Smith, and Django. A significant part of his early work was writing and arranging for radio and television, for NBC, and he also wrote the very first electric guitar method book in 1942. A friend in Austin gave me two CDs of his: a collection of his playing from the Plantation Party radio show and an overview of his octet recordings. The octet recordings sound like unhinged cartoon music with guitar and orchestral instruments and are highly enjoyable. Ex. 2 is a line I lifted from a recording of him playing “Ain’t Misbehavin.” It was one of the hippest endings I have ever heard on a jazz tune, and although I can’t find the recording anywhere, I still use it all the time. I love the intention in George Barnes’ playing. Swinging and mischievous, he always sounds like he was having fun.
Ex. 2
The George Barnes Sextet - Lover, Come Back to Me
“Thrilling” Rhythm Solos
David Williams is one of the greatest rhythm players of all time. He is responsible for most of the memorable guitar moments on Michael Jackson’s records, and all his parts have an infectious nature. He is the primary reason I got interested in rhythm guitar, and he is still an inspiration on that front. One of my favorite examples of his playing is the breakdown in Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” (where Vincent Price does the rap). His signature thunderous right-hand approach to single-note rhythm parts is in full effect, and the natural accents between the two rhythm parts are infectious on their own but weave perfectly together. Ex. 3 is my interpretation of two interlocking parts in this style. He’s said in interviews that his concept as a player was to develop “rhythm solos” that could stand out front in a song, and this is a perfect example of that.
Ex. 3
Thriller
(Better than) Average Riffs
Though Hamish Stuart is most known for being an original member of the Average White Band, the singer/guitarist/composer/producer also did extensive work with heavyweights such as George Benson, Paul McCartney, Chaka Khan, and Aretha Franklin. Though AWB was still working until 1983, Hamish was doing sessions with various artists as a sideman in the early ’80s, including this excerpt from “Move Me No Mountain” off Chaka Khan’s Naughty from 1980 (Ex. 4). I’ve always loved the interplay between these two parts, range-wise and rhythmically. The lower pick line hits some unusual 16th-note placements, and the higher dyads have a churn to them that is amazing. Both parts together feel different rhythmically from anything I have ever heard but sound so cool and unique.
Ex. 4
Chaka Khan - Move Me No Mountain
Wayne Krantz
Wayne Krantz is one of those guys that hit me like a lightning bolt. Upon hearing him, I felt like I had “permission” to play more with the fingers of my right hand, use jagged and intentional rhythms, and above all, to play more naturally. Wayne has always played like himself. His control over rhythm and articulation alone is legendary, not to mention the vast body of unique work he has created. Ex. 5 is an excerpt from the only solo I ever learned of his, from “Infinity Split” off 1999’s Greenwich Mean. I love this solo because it is incredibly engaging rhythmically and melodically, but almost 100 percent inside the harmony. This solo taught me more about rhythmic placement and articulation than anything.
Ex. 5
Wayne Krantz - Infinity Split
Though I could only grab a certain percentage of these guys’ “vocabulary,” learning these parts over the years helped me find my sound. The result was an attempt to emulate some of their musicality in my way, rather than outright imitating them. Anything you hear that grabs your interest is probably worth sitting down and figuring out. While we might not mention the guitarists above alongside Hendrix or Van Halen, they have all done their part to put a brick in the cathedral, furthering music, and the instrument.
