Thurston Moore is back with some new ideas on his ninth solo release, saying that he feels like a perennial apprentice in the world of music.
“There’s something very elegant to it—the fact that the helmet sort of denotes a sense of military perfection, but that it has tuning forks on it as opposed to any sort of emblem of aggression,” he tells me, Zooming in from his flat in London. “If music is, as Albert Ayler would say, the healing force of the universe, then so is the tuning fork. I thought it was just a thing of beauty.”
It also dovetails with a theme that runs through Flow Critical Lucidity, an album that Moore describes as “an expression of hope.” But characteristic of the Sonic Youth guitar icon, there are additional layers at work here. One would be that Nares is, like Moore, an alumnus of the downtown Manhattan no-wave scene, having played guitar in an early iteration of James Chance and the Contortions. “It felt right to use one of Jamie’s pieces, because we kind of came up together through this musical micro-community in New York City,” Moore says.
Another layer, I suggest, might be that the many tuning forks are a self-referential poke at Moore himself, who has made something of a career out of deploying myriad out-there tunings in the service of some of the most innovative and influential music of the past 40 years. “So, they’re ‘alternative-tuning tuning forks,’” Moore reasons, then smiles. “Maybe I could have written C–G–D–G–C–D on it.” Which is, in fact, the actual primary tuning he employed for his guitar parts throughout Flow Critical Lucidity.
Why this tuning? “I like it,” Moore says, simply. “I find it to be a good one to write in, and I’ve gotten used to it. So it’s been a mainstay for the last six years or so, and on the last couple of albums. I actually feel like I need to put it to rest a bit, because that low string tends to create this kind of droning low C on almost every song now. Maybe I’m getting a little too comfortable.”
You wouldn’t know it from Flow Critical Lucidity. Moore’s ninth solo album overall, the collection is an enchanting, transportive, and deeply creative work: There’s cadenced spoken word over clanging, chiming soundscapes on “New in Town”; gorgeous guitar and piano commingling in “Sans Limites” (with Stereolab’s Laetitia Sadier dueting on vocals); feral, percussion-heavy rhythms pulsing through “Rewilding”; a no-wave callback in the jagged four-note guitar stab of “Shadow”; hypnotic, liquid guitar lines punctuating “The Diver.” There are electronics courtesy of Negativland’s Jon Leidecker, lyrics penned largely by Moore’s wife and collaborator, Eva Prinz (working under the pseudonym Radieux Radio), and, on several tracks, extensive use of prepared instruments, such as guitars with objects placed under or on the strings to modulate their tone. It is an album that is varied and vibrant, imaginative and idiosyncratic. It is, Moore has said, one of his “favorite” records in his solo catalog.
On Flow Critical Lucidity, Moore recorded with guitarist James Sedwards, bassist Deb Googe, keyboardist Jon Leidecker, and percussionist Jem Doulton. The record was mixed by Margo Broom.
“If music is the healing force of the universe, then so is the tuning fork. I thought it was just a thing of beauty.”
Though somewhat sprawling in execution, Flow Critical Lucidity came together in a uniquely focused manner, with Moore and Prinz settled at an artist residency near Lake Geneva. “They allow people to stay there for six weeks to six months to sometimes a couple years,” Moore says. “So I asked if I could lock myself away there and write—and specifically to write a new record. I had a couple guitars, a couple small amps, and a little Zoom digital recorder. Eva would throw lyrics in front of me and I would construct pieces around them.”
When it came time to record, Moore assembled his current band—Leidecker, former My Bloody Valentine bassist Deb Googe, guitarist and multi-instrumentalist James Sedwards, and percussionist Jem Doulton—at Total Refreshment Centre (“a funky little studio”) in his adopted home city of London. A key architect at this stage was Margo Broom, who mixed the material. “She was really able to put it in a place that I don’t think anybody else could have so successfully,” Moore says. “For instance, while she was mixing, I was talking to her about how to treat my vocals a bit, because I never liked my vocals so much—I’m kind of key-challenged when I sing. But Margo was able to finesse that. She said to me, ‘I’ve been listening to your vocals since I was 16 years old, so I know what I’m doing here!’ I was impressed by that.”
Moore, now 66, often records with his tried-and-true alternate tuning, C–G–D–G–C–D.
Guitar-wise, Moore continues, “Margo was able to create a lot of space, which is something that I’ve never really felt has happened so successfully, even all through Sonic Youth, because of the desire to always have a lot of guitar layers happening in the songs. But she was able to find definition there, even where there was a lot of mass information going on.”
To be sure, there’s plenty of characteristic Moore guitar work on Flow Critical Lucidity, particularly in the extended instrumental sections of songs like “The Diver” and the gently chugging “Hypnogram.” But as far as the actual gear he used in the studio, Moore kept things streamlined—one guitar, one amp.
“It was all Fender,” he says. “I used an early, pre-CBS Jazzmaster, a ’62, I think, and a Hot Rod DeVille.” Moore is, of course, a longtime Jazzmaster aficionado—in the early days of Sonic Youth, he says, “We started acquiring Jazzmasters before they became so collectible. You could go to the guitar stores in midtown New York and find one for a few hundred dollars. We had been using Harmonys and Kents and Hagstroms—whatever we could get our hands on—and the Jazzmasters and Jaguars were a step up. I gravitated more towards the Jazzmaster because the neck was slightly longer than a Jaguar’s, and for my height it worked nicely. I also liked other aspects of it, like being able to investigate behind the bridge more readily than with just about any other guitar.”
“I had a couple guitars, a couple small amps, and a little Zoom digital recorder. Eva would throw lyrics in front of me and I would construct pieces around them.”
Moore has many Jazzmasters, including one that he says is “one of the first ’58 production models,” and that Sedwards has been using extensively. But the Jazzmaster that Moore is playing now “has been my go-to for the last couple of albums. And a lot of that was defined by the one I played previously getting stolen. And then one previous to that getting stolen, too. So the record is all this guitar, and it’s all, I believe, in that same [C–G–D–G–C–D] tuning.”
Thurston Moore's Gear
Moore became famous as co-guitarist and one of three vocalists in Sonic Youth, seen here performing in 1991.
Photo by Ken Settle
Guitars
- Circa 1962 Fender Jazzmaster, tuned to C–G–D–G–C–D
- Circa 1958 Fender Jazzmaster (used by James Sedwards)
Amps
- Fender Hot Rod DeVille 410 III
Effects
- Pro Co Turbo RAT
- Dunlop Jimi Hendrix Octave Fuzz
- Xotic EP Booster
- Electro-Harmonix Metal Muff
- Electro-Harmonix Cathedral Stereo Reverb
- TC Electronic Hall of Fame
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario NYXL (.012–.054)
- Dunlop .60 mm
Except for one song, that is. “‘New in Town’—I couldn’t even tell you what the tuning is,” Moore admits. “That song will not be played live, because it just can’t be.” The reason why, he explains, is that he performed it on prepared guitar, altering the Jazzmaster’s sound by placing objects under or between the strings and retuning the instrument in real time.
“The idea of using guitars that are extended with different implements is something that obviously I’ve been working with since the early ’80s,” he says. “But ‘New in Town’ was probably the most expansive effort of it in terms of creating a song where the preparation of the guitar was in a place of improvisation while we were recording. On that song, I’m actually moving the strings around with the tuning pegs to a point where I’m not really notating what I’m doing, and I’m furthering that by putting different implements between the strings—not just under the strings and in front of the fretboard, but actually sort of woven within the strings. Like, maybe sort of midway on the neck and then over the pickup area, and then playing in the middle between the two.”
“I never liked my vocals so much—I’m kind of key-challenged when I sing. But Margo [Broom] was able to finesse that.”
Some of the types of objects he used were “a small, cylindrical antenna; a drumstick,” Moore continues. “And then I’m picking between those two, or on either side of them, and finding a rhythm or a motif. And I’m doing this while James is playing piano and Jon is processing it and moving it around through his electronics. We recorded that, and then I took it and I cut it up and edited it to create the composition. So the actual performance—I don’t think I’d be able to reenact it again.”
For Moore, the structuring of the track was as much a creatively fulfilling endeavor as the actual performance of it. “I find that, for me, a lot of the experimentation that has rigor is in that part of it, rather than in the expanded technique on the guitar,” he says. “I feel like that’s something anybody can do, and that a lot of people do do. I mean, when I was younger and I brought the drumstick out, and I was swiping it across the strings, and it’s going through a distortion box, it sounded really cool, but it also looked really cool. I knew that there was something very performative about it. But the composition has to have value beyond the oddity of what you’re doing.”
“That song will not be played live, because it just can’t be.”
He laughs. “You know, I’ve seen comments on social media, like, ‘Playing guitar with drumsticks is stupid!’ Which I thought was a really great comment. Somebody was just not down with the program on that one. I was like, ‘Right on!’”
Which brings up a question: Does Moore immerse himself at all in the online guitar world? Is he, like the rest of us, endlessly scrolling through 30-second clips of bedroom guitarists performing jaw-dropping feats of 6-string technical facility?
The answer is, sort of.
After producing several albums with Sonic Youth, Moore began releasing solo works in 1995 with Psychic Hearts. This photo was taken in 2010.
Photo by Mike White
“I’m in that algorithm, so I will get these interesting tutorials from, like, hyper-tapping kinds of players,” he says. “And I will sometimes watch them, because I’m actually very enamored with high-technique guitar players. Even though I don’t really consider myself a high-technique guitar player—I find myself to be a very personalized-technique guitar player. And I’m okay with that.
“But I do like it,” he continues. “Whether it’s Hendrix or some guy sitting on his bed and shredding. Or someone in front of their laptop decoding a Zeppelin thing, like, ‘This is how you play “Misty Mountain Hop” correctly.’ To me that’s really interesting to see, because I love Jimmy Page. I’m never going to play like Jimmy Page, but to have someone decode it and then share that with the world, it’s like, ‘Thank you.’ If I had more time on my hands, I would tune a guitar to traditional tuning and sit down and learn it.”
“I knew that there was something very performative about it. But the composition has to have value beyond the oddity of what you’re doing.”
Most people, of course, don’t usually have to first tune their guitar to standard before they play. But then, Moore is not most people. “I don’t think I have a single guitar in that tuning,” he admits. “And it’s funny, because [Dinosaur Jr. singer and guitarist] J Mascis used to come over, and he’d tune all my guitars to traditional tuning. And it was like, ‘Stop doing that!’ you know? Would drive me crazy.”
At the end of the day, Moore’s intention is to remain creatively open. Even while he is in the throes of the album cycle around Flow Critical Lucidity—“I’m still coming to terms with what we did on this record,” he says—he’s already looking forward to what might be next. “I have it in mind, but I couldn’t say what it is. Sometimes I think I want to make a brutal, harsh, noise-wall record. Or maybe something that’s a super, super-dark metal record. Because I love that kind of stuff.”
There’s still a lot of ground, and music, to explore. “It’s all live and learn,” Moore says. “Even at 66 years old, I still feel like I’m in some place of apprenticeship with a lot of this. I don’t really feel settled. But I do feel more confident, that’s for sure.”
YouTube It
Thurston Moore, with Jazzmaster and Hot Rod DeVille, performs the Flow Critical Lucidity track “Hypnogram” live in Munich in 2023 in this fan-captured DIY video.
Slash onstage with Guns N’ Roses, backed by a fleet of glowing Magnatone M-80 amps, the inspiration for his current signature model, the SL-100.
Chasing that sound, he purchased a used Fraulini 12-string built along the same lines as the 1960 Zemaitis that appears in Jimi’s hands. Slash says that guitar had some intonation issues, so he commissioned Fraulini luthier Todd Cambio, who specializes in reproductions of historic models, to make him a new one.
“It’s basically a vintage-style baritone acoustic guitar,” Slash explains. “The strings are tuned down to open B or open C, and the tension is there. It’s just amazing sounding—really earthy, soulful, and rich. So, it was just sitting around my house and I hadn’t any designs as to what I was going to use it for.”
Slash feat. Brian Johnson - "Killing Floor" (Official Music Video)
Until he started developing a high-intensity, guest-star-packed blues album, the just-released Orgy of the Damned. Then, it was game on for the 12-string, thanks to a conversation with Iggy Pop, who suggested they team up for a version of Lightnin’ Hopkins’ apocalyptic “Awful Dream.”
“It’s the only song on the album that was brought to me by the singer,” Slash recounts. “There was something about the lyrics that really spoke to Iggy. The original sounds very much like it’s almost an outtake—something they did at the end of a session and just left on tape. When I listened to it, I picked up a guitar to play along—it was tuned in B—and I had that light bulb: ‘Hey, I can use that Fraulini guitar and record the song with that.’ When we recorded it, it was just me and Iggy in the studio. We played through the song twice, and that was it. It’s such a cool track—very spontaneous and natural.”
Slash's Gear
Slash used a Gibson ES-335 for the tunes “Stormy Monday,” “The Pusher,” and “Killing Floor” on Orgy of the Damned, and has a new signature model on the way.
Photo by Gene Kirkland
Guitars
- 1956 Gibson Les Paul goldtop
- 1958 Gibson Les Paul
- 1959 Gibson Les Paul
- Leo Scala-built Gibson Explorer
- Gibson ES-335Gibson J-45
- Custom Fraulini 12-string
- Fender Stratocaster
- Fender Telecaster
Amps
- Magnatone M-80
- Magnatone SL-100
Strings & Picks
- Ernie Ball Signature (.011–.048)
- Dunlop custom 1.14 mm
Slash and Pop, who howls on the song’s outro like a lost, mournful coyote, captured not only Hopkins’ insouciance—a notable part of his musical character—but underscored every bit of the lyric’s fatalist chiaroscuro, which includes references to the atom bomb, an ominous talking bird, and, ultimately, death. Orgy of the Damned, indeed.
But for an album with that title, its dozen tracks plucked from the classic blues and R&B canon are a hell of a lot of fun. Slash and his compatriots—who also include Chris Stapleton, Billy Gibbons, Paul Rodgers, Gary Clark Jr., Brian Johnson, Tash Neal, Steven Tyler, Beth Hart, and Demi Lovato (who kicks out the jams on “Papa Was a Rolling Stone”)—rock the juke joint down. There’s some typecasting. Johnson sings Howlin’ Wolf’s “Killing Floor,” and Gibbons’ wails and grinds through Muddy Waters’ “Hoochie Coochie Man” like he was born to the song, which he was. And while Clark and Slash take the on-ramp that Cream built to Robert Johnson’s “Crossroads Blues,” their solos veer to a different route than Clapton’s, and there’s a slow breakdown that adds a more sonically doleful turn before their engines rev again.
One of the album’s great pleasures is hearing Slash put his own incendiary stamp on these chestnuts, rather than mimicking the solos from the original records, as so many musicians who play classic blues covers do. Sure, the signposts for each song are in place, but they’re departure points, not boundary markers. If anything defines this album’s character, it’s the upbeat energy and sheer glee of making music that ripples through every track. And Slash’s solos are vibrant and filled with grittier turns on the kind of bends and slides that would make Howlin’ Wolf’s venerated guitarist Hubert Sumlin beam.
Slash and one of his new signature Magnatone heads, the SL-100, a single-channel 100-watt amp with four 12AX7s, four EL34s, and a buffered effects loop—inspired by the company’s vintage-plus sounding Super Fifty-Nine M-80.
Slash picks up the acoustic again for the intro to Orgy of the Damned’s take on Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac psych-blues “Oh Well,” sung by Chris Stapleton. But this time it’s not the 12-string. Gibson’s Slash Collection of guitars also includes his J-45 Standard, which you’ve seen him play in acoustic sets by Guns N’ Roses and with his band the Conspirators, with Myles Kennedy. (For those who can't drop 3,500 smackers, there’s also an Epiphone version.) But mostly, the album’s guitars are full-tilt electric. In addition to ’58 and ’59 Les Pauls, and an Explorer made by Gibson master artisan Leo Scala that Slash played on Albert King’s “Born Under a Bad Sign,” he used a fat-toned ES-335 on “Stormy Monday,” “The Pusher,” and “Killing Floor,” and his new signature edition of that model is due about now. Slash also deployed a Strat and a Tele, so there’s a cavalcade of 6-strings. And his favored amps these days are feisty Magnatones—a departure from his longtime fascination with Marshall JCM800s and Silver Jubilees. After falling for the modern Magnatone company’s blend of old-school tone and contemporary performance, he used the brand’s M-80s for Guns N’ Roses’ 2023 tour as well as Orgy of the Damned, and now has a signature version, the SL-100, an EL84-driven beast with two gain modes and no shortage of cleans, grind, and headroom.
“The tour is a fundraiser geared towards equity and bringing people together, driven by the idea of treating everybody like they’re your friend instead of your enemy.”
As a companion to the album, Slash, whose fondness for boa constrictors, anacondas, and pythons is well known, has launched the summer S.E.R.P.E.N.T. Festival tour. That’s an acronym for Solidarity, Engagement, Restore, Peace, Equity N’ Tolerance. It features Slash and the core band from Orgy of the Damned—singer/guitarist Tash Neal, bassist Johnny Griparic, drummer Michael Jerome, and keyboardist Teddy Andreadis—and different guest openers at various venues. That cast includes the Warren Haynes Band, Keb’ Mo’, Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, Robert Randolph, Larkin Poe, Eric Gales, ZZ Ward, Samantha Fish, and Jackie Venson. And it’s fair to say, in the spirit of blues, that jamming will occur.
“The tour is a fundraiser geared towards equity and bringing people together,” Slash explains, “driven by the idea of treating everybody like they’re your friend instead of your enemy. A lot of that is going on right now, and I’m expecting to have this really great communal vibe.” A portion of ticket sales goes to the Equal Justice Initiative, Know Your Rights Camp, the Greenlining Institute, and the War Child charities—all organizations the Cat in the Top Hat routinely supports.
With Myles Kennedy, Slash rides the feedback train. A ’58 and a ’59 Les Paul were part of the chemistry for his new album of reinterpreted blues classics.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
Aptly enough, blues has always been an especially communal music. And Slash’s initial exposure was familial. He was born in 1965 in England, where he lived until 1970, and his father and uncles filled his ears with the sound of British rock: the Yardbirds, the Who, the Stones, and others. “When I moved to the States, my whole musical experience broadened,” he says. Reggae, folk, and R&B became part of his diet, and then his grandmother turned him on to blues in its un-redefined form.
“B.B. King was the blues artist that really stuck with me, and I think that has a lot to do with his phrasing. He had a very melodic, memorable style.”
“B.B. King was the blues artist that really stuck with me, and I think that has a lot to do with his phrasing. He had a very melodic, memorable style,” Slash recalls. “Fast forward to when I started playing guitar, and as a kid guitar player at the time, you had the Stones and Derek and the Dominos and Cream for models, and then there was Jimi Hendrix, Zeppelin, and Johnny Winter. Being influenced by those guys took me back to that B.B. King record my grandmother first played for me. It was a big full-circle blues discovery that I had. And so, the blues has always been an important element in my playing.
“I didn’t know it, technically, at the time, but one of the things I picked up on about Jimmy Page, hearing the first two Zeppelin albums, is how much he’s got a B.B. King feel when he plays slow blues. There’s a texture to B.B.’s playing that I understood even before I dreamt of picking up a guitar. I have a huge passion for the feel of blues and the guitar playing and the singing and the stories. It all really means a lot to me.”
Slash recorded his new album at six different studios, but its core tracks went down at East West and his own Snakepit studios in Los Angeles.
While it’s been obvious since the early days of GNR that he’s a blues-informed player, “It’s a great outlet to be able to play with musicians who are really steeped in the genre,” Slash observes. He’s referring to his Orgy of the Damned playmates Griparic and Andreadis, with whom he formed the blues tribute band Slash’s Blues Ball in the mid ’90s—a busman’s holiday compared to his high-profile non-GNR projects over the years: Slash’s Snakepit, Velvet Revolver, and, currently, Slash featuring Myles Kennedy and the Conspirators. “But for this album, I didn’t feel like I deserved to jump on the blues bandwagon with all the other artists who are totally committed to the music. I wasn’t feeling like I was trying to keep up with the Joneses in the blues world or trying to impress anybody. Because it’s just fun for me, there is a certain energy to it. I was calling in friends to sing and play, and to just enjoy ourselves.
“I’ve been wanting to do some sort of a blues record for a long time,” he continues. “Knowing my way around the blues means I’m able to be in any city and go sit in with any blues band in some bar and kick back and play covers of whatever songs that band is doing. That’s always been a great outlet for me as a player.”
Many of the tunes on Orgy of the Damned came from an old Slash’s Blues Ball set list, or were favorites—like “Born Under a Bad Sign”—Slash has been itching to cut for decades. That explains the songs, but Slash’s guitar tones—portly, burnished, growling, full of just the right amount of low-mid punch, and guided by the hands of a master—are partly the result of his ear’s latest passion. And a gift from the Rev. BFG.
Slash sends a note to the rafters on one of his beloved Gibson Les Pauls.
Photo by Annie Atlasman
“I went through my amplifier trial-and-error period a long, long time ago, and I stuck with Marshalls,” he relates. “But at some point a few years ago, Billy Gibbons gave me this Magnatone amp. It was a combo, and I was like, ‘cool, yeah, thanks.’ I put it with a bunch of other stuff and never checked it out.” When it was time to consider tracking Orgy of the Damned, “I knew I didn’t have to bring a stack of Marshalls.” So, he visited his collection of vintage Fenders and Voxes, and a 50-watt Marshall with a half-stack. And then he came across the mothballed Magnatone.
“I decided to swap out my Marshalls for Magnatone heads and 2x12 half-stacks for Guns N’ Roses, and then with the Conspirators.”
“Sonically, it was just there. I used that amp for a whole rehearsal and then the first song we cut, ‘Key to the Highway.’ It sounded fucking great!” He ended up using the Magnatone M-80, a 45-watt 1x12 combo with four 12AX7s and two EL34s, for the entire album. “Then I decided to swap out my Marshalls for Magnatone heads and 2x12 half-stacks for Guns N’ Roses, and then with the Conspirators.” It wasn’t long before he was in Magnatone’s St. Louis shop, working on the 100-watt head that now bears his signature and will accompany him as he rides the S.E.R.P.E.N.T.
“Playing this music makes me feel very grounded and connected,” he observes. “Emotionally, it really helps me to sing. There’s a lot more improvisation, so I’m not tethered, and this will be uncharted waters for me—to be able to go onstage and do an entire show of whatever it is that we want to play. Blues is the best for improvisation. You can really express yourself emotionally. Jazz doesn’t speak to me so much, and I don’t play it because I don’t have anything to say in jazz. But in blues … I feel like I can really express myself down to the last letter.”
YouTube It
Playing through his now-favored Magnatone amps, Slash, with Guns N’ Roses last year, essays the song that built his reputation as a guitar hero, “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
Brothers Chris and Rich Robinson of the Black Crowes have been playing under that name, on and off, for the past 40 years.
That consistency of their rousing brand of rock ’n’ roll—blessed by rhythm and blues swagger, injected with more than a touch of gospel, and steeped in the traditions of American music—was likely buttressed by the reunion tour they set out on to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Shake Your Money Maker in 2021. And, by the fact that at least three of the members—Rich, his brother and lead singer Chris, who co-founded the band, and bassist Sven Pipien—all came up together in Atlanta. It could, above all, come from their pure desire to never stop making music.
The Black Crowes - "Wanting And Waiting"
But at least one of the primary driving forces behind the band’s vitality is Rich Robinson’s guitar playing—distinctive but also familiar in the last 30-plus years of rock; always nuanced and natural, frequently stirring, and just as compelling in blistering electric riffs as it is in delicate and expressive acoustic arrangements. It’s a palette that Robinson has nurtured since his early teens when he first picked up a guitar, and one of the things, of course, that has tied the Crowes’ sound together throughout their long career. It informs Robinson’s solo albums and his work with the Magpie Salute as well.
“There’s always that common thread,” Robinson says over the phone from Nashville. “There’s always the language. There are certain writers and they choose the phrasing or the pacing of how they write, and their paragraphs and their words. A painter, you know; you’ll see people who have a signature to the way they paint. That’s why we love them. In movies you see that same thing. So, all creative endeavors have that element in them. Chris sounds like Chris. He’s never gonna not sound like Chris. And I play like me, and I’m never gonna not sound like me.”
“You’ll see people who have a signature to the way they paint. That’s why we love them.”
With his ear first tuned to his dad’s music of choice—Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Sly Stone, Joe Cocker, Bob Dylan—Robinson eventually started sculpting the beginnings of his own sound with his dad’s 1954 Martin D-28 in the early ’80s (Martin’s Rich Robinson Custom Signature Edition D-28 is based on the same guitar). He gravitated especially toward The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, and remembers the first time he saw Angus Young being impaled by his Gibson SG on the cover of AC/DC’s If You Want Blood You’ve Got It: “There was something really special about it to me. I was drawn to it.” He and Chris listened to a lot of Prince, and got into punk rock, too—X, the Clash, the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, Black Flag. Next came the alternative stuff, like the dB’s, Rain Parade, and fellow Georgians, R.E.M.
Rich Robinson's Gear
A few years ahead of the release of Happiness Bastards, the band reunited in 2021 to embark on the 30th anniversary of the release of their debut album, Shake Your Money Maker.
Photo by Jason Kempin
Guitars
- 1956 Gibson Les Paul Special
- 1959 Gibson Les Paul Junior TV
- Custom Shop Gibson Les Paul Junior
- Bonneville Les Paul Junior
- Bonneville Strat
- 1968 Les Paul Goldtop
- 1961 Gibson ES-335 Cherry
- 1962 Gibson ES-335 Sunburst
- 1968 Gibson ES-335 Cherry
- 1967 Fender Telecaster
- 2015 Custom Shop Black Fender Telecaster
- Custom Shop Sunburst Fender Telecaster
- Custom Shop Fender Telecaster with B-Bender
- 1999 Custom Shop Mary Kay Strat
- 1964 Rickenbacker
- Stephen Stern Custom White Falcon
- Stephen Stern Custom Magpie
- 1969 Dan Armstrong
- 1972 Dan Armstrong 341
- Zemaitis Disc Front
- Zemaitis jumbo acoustic
- Martin D-28 Appalachian
- Martin 0000
- Martin parlor
- Martin 12-string
- 1967 Guild 12-string
- Piers Crocker Crockenbacker
- Gibson Custom Shop Firebird Pelham Blue
- Gibson Firebird
- Gibson Custom Shop Firebird
- Teye El Dorado
Amps
- 1966 Marshall bluesbreaker
- 1968 Marshall bluesbreaker
- 2023 Muswell 50-watt
- 1987 Marshall Silver Jubilee
- 1956 Fender Deluxe
- 1950s Fender White Model 80
- 1971 Marshall JMP 50-watt
- Handwired Vox AC30s
- 1961 Fender Twin
- 2009 Reason Combo
- 1965 Fender Bassman black-panel
Effects
- RJM MIDI Controller
- Ebo Customs E-verb
- Fulltone Tube Tape Echo
- Fulltone Clyde Deluxe Wah
- Lehle volume pedal
- Way Huge Angry Troll
- Way Huge Red Llama
- Black Volt VFUZZ
- Strymon Lex
- Strymon Flint
- JHS Ruby Red RR Overdrive
Strings, Slides & Picks
- D’Addario strings
- D’Addario Rich Robinson signature slides
- Dunlop picks
“And then it kind of worked its way through us back to our foundation, where we loved roots rock ’n’ roll music,” Robinson says. “But all of that journey shaped how I wrote songs. The first thing I did was write songs. You know, I was never someone who just kind of played all day and learned scales and shredded. I always thought the song was the gift. And that was the thing that was lightning in a bottle, so to speak.”
Robinson was never trying to learn everything about the guitar as fast as he could. He played when he wanted to play, which still remains the case. “And every time I play it, I feel joy, because it’s never laborious or forced,” he says. He cautions against the “apprentice effect”—getting stuck in the lines and grooves of the people you learn from and forgetting to explore the untrodden paths you might be interested in. Through his time playing the guitar, he’s picked up something new here, something new there; his learning process has evolved naturally for him, and continues to do so in the present day.
“I always thought the song was the gift. And that was the thing that was lightning in a bottle, so to speak.”
“I think there’s a time when you peak, and then it just kind of starts going down,” Robinson elaborates. “It’s like you’ve learned everything you can on that instrument. And people play that way. You can kind of tell—it’s almost like people know too much. Every time I learn something new, I think about how I can do that in writing a song, first. I’m like, ‘Oh, man, this is great. I can write this into something.’ But then it also expands how you play and how you see the guitar.”
On Happiness Bastards, the Black Crowes sound as strong as ever, proving they haven’t wavered in their rock vitality since their last release in 2009.
All of the disparate influences, filtered through roots and Southern rock traditions, have helped to build a Black Crowes sound that explores plenty of different sonic territory, but remains singularly theirs. Eventually, the direction in which those sounds went became dictated by the tone of the instrument; the right acoustic guitar, with a certain stunning kind of resonation, can bring hundreds of songs out of Robinson, as can the right guitar with the right amp. The tone, for him, has always been an essential part of the overall mosaic of the song, and if the tone isn’t there, the recording can be a letdown regardless of how great the song is. For example, he says, some of Prince’s records—though the songs and the playing are brilliant—could have benefited from a sound more in line with the unmediated electricity of Sly and the Family Stone albums.
“I just don’t like those tidy, neat, sort of clean things,” Robinson says. “There’s a humanity involved in all of it. There’s a humanity in music, in the sound of the music, and in the composition of the music. And by ‘humanity,’ I mean there are flaws, or perceived flaws, that actually turn out to be the magic. You want to try to get it as good as possible. But you also want to leave that space for a breath, or for anything that shows the human organism that’s growing and breathing and behaving.”
“Every time I learn something new, I think about how I can do that in writing a song, first. But then it also expands how you see the guitar.”
Every guitar, amp, and pickup influences the tone Robinson arrives at, and on Happiness Bastards, he employs many different combinations to get where he’s going. For the punchy and jagged “Cross Your Fingers,” he’s on his 1962 Gibson ES-335 and a Muswell amp; the wiry “Dirty Cold Sun” features a Muswell again, powering a custom shop Tele; a dense Gretsch White Falcon through a ’56 Fender Tweed Deluxe fills out “Flesh Wound”; and “Follow the Moon” showcases his 1956 Gibson Les Paul Special through the same amp.
Rich Robinson, seen here playing his Zemaitis Disc Front back in 2021, owns more guitars than your average collector.
Photo by Frank White
In his search for great tone, Robinson founded Muswell Amplification after building one of his own amps—based on his 1968 Marshall bluesbreaker—with his guitar tech, Roland McKay.
“It’s basically an exact, or almost exact, duplicate of my bluesbreaker,” Robinson says. “It’s a 1968 bluesbreaker I bought that, when I heard it, I was like, ‘Holy shit.’ When you buy one amp that is amazing, you kind of want another one just in case. So I was like, ‘Man, can we do this?’ The guy that I’m building the amps with was like, ‘Yeah, I can get all these transistors, I can get these tubes, I can get everything exact and do this.’ And so we did it. And side by side, it’s incredibly close and sounds amazing.”
Mostly, on Happiness Bastards, Robinson flips between his faithful Muswell and the Tweed Deluxe, pulling the textures of the past and contextualizing them here and now for 21st-century rock ’n’ roll. But perhaps one of the more essential elements of the Crowes’ recording process is making room for the human quirks and dynamics that are more akin to the previous century; Robinson laments the uncanny valley feeling that poorly done autotune affects in him, or the stilted nature of songs played to a click.
“You want to leave space for a breath, or for anything that shows the human organism that’s growing and breathing and behaving.”
“It seems weird to me, because, it’s a natural human response—if a chorus is coming, you’re getting a little excited, you speed up a little bit,” Robinson says about the experience of playing live and loose. “And then after that, you kind of slow it back down. That adds to the dynamic of the song and to the humanity of the song.”
Brothers Chris and Rich Robinson formed the Black Crowes in 1984, while still attending high school.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/tinnitus photography
The building blocks of the Black Crowes’ sound, then, are kindred to those that have helped create any of the great Southern rock bands—a melting pot of diverse influences, close attention to tone and timbre, a motivation that comes from love of the game, and brotherhood. It all seems to make a joyful sound, and could hardly be recreated by putting together all the right technology. Ultimately, the formula can only remain a mystery. “There’s always more to it than something as simple as what an amp might sound like or what a mic or effect might do,” Robinson says.
What makes a compelling guitar player is similarly enigmatic; again, of course, there’s no recipe for a Jimi Hendrix or a Duane Allman. But Robinson says his favorites, the players who he looked to when he was learning—Jimmy Page and Peter Green, for example—all have a few things in common with the other greats: freedom, abandon, and passion.
“I think they’re just unapologetically themselves," Robinson says about what sets the singularly voiced apart from the masses. “They’re not trying to be safe. They’re just doing what they do. They’re artists, you know?”
YouTube It
The Black Crowes rip through the fan favorite “Twice As Hard” during their 2021–’22 Shake Your Money Maker tour.