Eva Gardner on Led Zeppelin's "Ramble On" | Hooked
The bassist for Pink and Cher explains how John Paul Jones' rhythmic tightrope of whimsical melody and driving might still hits her today.
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The bassist for Pink and Cher explains how John Paul Jones' rhythmic tightrope of whimsical melody and driving might still hits her today.
Steve Selvidge
The Hold Steady
A: I'd have to go with Van Halen. It's always hard to rate music when so many people's favorites are tied up with memories and personal musical tastes. There have been a lot of “game-changer" debuts. To me, the best serve as an artist's Statement of Intent. Everything that follows from there is set up on that first album. You could point to debuts from both the Jimi Hendrix Experience and Led Zeppelin as examples, and many more.
Van Halen's debut certainly did this and more. As a debut, it's a perfect album. All killer no filler, as they say. The mix of sunny Southern California hooks and groundbreaking riffs has never been equaled. But for me, it's just the simple fact that Van Halen changed so much upon its release and afterward. This is obviously a very guitar-centric opinion, but I can't think of another album that created such a monumental shift in the way the guitar was played, promoted, and even manufactured. The legacy of all of that is still very evident to this day.
Current obsession: Lonnie Johnson. I was always familiar with his earlier acoustic recordings, but I only recently discovered the later period when he was playing electric guitar. I'd actually heard him on electric for a while but was unaware it was him! One of my favorite records is a solo album by the great pianist Otis Spann. It's all solo piano and voice, save for one song that has a beautifully sympathetic electric-guitar accompaniment.
Photo by Russell Lee
I was always so seduced by the tone and phrasing of this guitar, but there were no credits to let me know who it was. Many, many years later I stumbled upon a YouTube video of Lonnie Johnson playing a Kay Value Leader guitar and singing “Another Night to Cry," and it was like finding the Rosetta Stone. There he was! I knew for sure it was him. That was the magic guitar player on that Otis Spann album. Now I'm trying to find as many albums of his from this period as I can. I also bought a one-pickup Kay Value Leader just like his. I don't sound at all like Lonnie, but it's still a lot of fun to play.
James Miller
Reader of the Month
A: Chicago Transit Authority. Up until that release, there were no bands like Chicago. It was an unheard of for the time—a double album, incredibly well recorded, and every song stands up over 50 years later.
Current Obsession: The session players known as the Wrecking Crew. I knew many of the songs they played on but didn't realize it was the same core of amazing musicians that played the music on those hits. When I happened upon the excellent documentary by Denny Tedesco, Tommy Tedesco's son, I was in awe and it sent me down the rabbit hole of finding and listening to as much music the Wrecking Crew performed on as possible. There will (probably) never be another group of session musicians like the Wrecking Crew again and I want to ensure I take the time to truly enjoy the hundreds, if not thousands, of songs they performed on.
Rich Osweiler
Associate Editor
A: A ridiculously difficult question when 20 albums come to mind almost immediately, but I can't not go with Van Halen. Why? It awakened the world to EVH's genius, was a complete rewriting of what a guitar and human are capable of, and introduced us to arguably one of the greatest rock frontmen of all time. Just as important, Van Halen cooked up 11 tracks that remain as fresh and mind-blowingly amazing as they did at first listen.
Current Obsession: Jimmy Carter: Rock & Roll President. I didn't know much at all about 39's deep ties and friendships with so many legend-level influencers in music, but I now like him even more. Highly recommended!
Jason Shadrick
Associate Editor
A: So many albums flash through my head but the one that really sticks with me is Pat Metheny's Bright Size Life. Metheny brought a Midwest sensibility to jazz, which proved that not every chord needs to have a seventh in it and triads can be melodic as hell. Not to mention that this record introduced the world to Jaco Pastorius (his self-titled album wouldn't be out for another seven months).
Current Obsession: The beauty and musical simplicity of a trio is fascinating to me and I've been immersing myself in what that format is capable of. Considering Chick Corea's recent passing, I went back and dived into Now He Sings, Now He Sobs with new ears. The freedom is astounding and inspiring and fulfilling. Other groups that are getting major rotation are Joshua Redman's Elastic Band, Delvon Lamarr's Organ Trio, and anything with Paul Motian.
With so many of us getting more into recording since quarantine, it's recently struck me harder than ever how deeply social-media mentality has seeped into our psyches as musicians. We've all been hearing for years how Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc. can adversely affect self-esteem, perceived quality of life, and overall happiness. And we've all heard how Instagram photo filters have so warped the self-image of pre-teens, teens, young adults, and even old-ass adults the world over that there are plastic surgeons buying effing yachts off money they made mangling some formerly beautiful person's perfectly normal face to look like a half-space-jackal anime character.
Yet so many of us are blind to how this same manner of thinking affects us in other ways—including how we present our music. Even many who resist the unspoken social-media mandate to post pics that paint “everyday life" as pristine, flawless, and oh so woke, still somehow end up thinking their music shouldn't see the light of day unless it's been edited, compressed, noise-gated, and EQ'd to be the sonic equivalent of a nipped, tucked, Botoxed, and Photoshopped “influencer." We see through the bullshit of YouTube and IG's soulless shillmeisters, and yet unwittingly embrace their fake, manufactured aesthetic as the ideal. Without even realizing it, we've let ourselves be conditioned to think good music in the 21st century equates to robotically unwavering tempos, metronome-perfect timing, and either “flawless" execution or jaw-dropping virtuosity—and there sure as hell better not be any fret or amp noise!
What's so ironic is that, while expecting these things of ourselves, in the very next breath we'll turn around and kneel at the metaphorical alter of artists from yore who did none of this. We'll oooh and aaah and fawn over songs that literally changed the fucking world with their soulfulness, fire, and humanity.
We'll adulate bands, players, and singers whose studio recordings moved and breathed as unpredictably as a living organism, varying together in bpm and instrumental and emotional nuance in ways that would give modern MP3 compression algorithms a panic attack. We're either oblivious about or completely forget the fact that some of the greatest guitarists of all time laid down legendary performances precisely because they knew vibe beats mechanical precision, hands-down, every time.
Jimmy Page—perhaps the most potent riffer/composer/studio wizard in all of rock guitardom—didn't let a little flub here and there hold back mind-blowing tunes like “Heartbreaker" and “I Can't Quit You Babe" (where he stumbles a little in the solos) and ““Since I've Been Loving You" (where you can hear John Bonham's kick-pedal squeak throughout the entire song). Said Page of instances like these in a 1977 interview: “There are mistakes … but it doesn't make any difference. You've got to be reasonably honest about it." Meanwhile, Eddie Van Halen freely admitted to botching a bit of the tapping in “Eruption"—y'know, that little 1978 ditty that single-handedly obliterated the world's guitar paradigm?
In a bit of a silver lining, COVID has forced us to reckon with this outlook somewhat. Lockdown has sucked the big one for everyone, especially touring artists, but it's also found us watching more homegrown guerilla performances from bands and artists we've always loved but who've had to figure out ways to get their craft out to the world without the aid of their usual backing band, sound person, lighting crew, etc. And admit it—it's been refreshing to see artists put themselves out there for the world despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, knowing full well the usual recording-studio sheen and/or video-editing magic won't be making them come across like immortals from another galaxy. Their hair isn't perfect, they might have a zit or two, their house/apartment/garage looks as shabby as ours, their amps buzz and their guitars don't always stay in tune or even necessarily sound that great. And it's important that we realize it's been refreshing precisely because of these things, not despite them. The trick is going to be holding onto these realizations once we finally get back to some semblance of normality. But, in my opinion, allowing this humanity in our tunes is as important today as it was in rock's golden age.