Deer Tick’s guitarist/frontman discusses Cosmetics, the new album from his all-star second band.
When does a side project become a band? For Diamond Rugs, the answer lies sometime between a night in 2011—when Deer Tick’s John McCauley, former Black Lips guitarist Ian St. Pé, and Six Finger Satellite drummer Bryan Dufresne shared a beer and mused about working together—and the sessions for Cosmetics, the D-Rugs’ sophomore album.
After that beer, St. Pé continued his tour with Black Lips. By the time he finished, McCauley had recruited the rest of the Diamond Rugs lineup: fellow Deer Tick Robbie Crowell (bass, keyboards, sax), Dead Confederate guitarist T. Hardy Morris, and Los Lobos’ Steve Berlin (horn, keyboards).
Back at Nashville’s Playground Sound Studio (where the band recorded their self-titled 2012 debut) the sextet worked fast, recording to one-inch 8-track tape with minimal overdubs and editing. The result solidifies D-Rug’s cable-knit rock ’n’ roll sound—the “loosely tight” feel that once defined bands like the Rolling Stones and Faces, but is increasingly rare in the digital age.
It’s a vibe almost impossible to create with a bunch of musical strangers or session players. But then, as St. Pé explained just before Cosmetics was released, Diamond Rugs isn’t just a collection of talented individuals. “This is definitely a band and not a side project,” he says. “The only difference is that we don’t play together that much because of our other band obligations.”
Why bother organizing so many people when you’ve got your regular band to worry about? “It was a good way to keep busy and keep in touch with some friends I don’t get to see often enough,” McCauley replied when we caught up with him. He went on to explain how this particular group of friends created something special.
Now that you’ve got two albums out, it’s clear that Diamond Rugs has a sound distinct from your main bands.
John McCauley: It just organically turned into a thing with its own vibe. It was just an experiment at first. We didn’t get together the first time 100 percent sure we were going to make an album. I don’t think any of us expected to record more than a couple of songs.
Photo by Mick Orlosky.
Six members from five different bands? That’s a lot for a side project!
Originally it was just going to be Ian, Bryan, and myself. It was just kind of a joke: We thought we’d write all these songs about weed and call ourselves Star Drama. But then I ended up meeting Steve Berlin, and he was asking about Middle Brother [an earlier McCauley side project] because he really liked the way that recording sounded. So I told him I was going back into the same studio to do something on the side with Ian from Black Lips, and he was like, “Oh, I love Black Lips!” So I invited him down to check out the studio and maybe play on something. Then I asked Robbie if he wanted to come down—he’s a great multi-instrumentalist. Then Hardy called me out of nowhere to say hello. He’s just a few hours away in Georgia, so I asked him “What are you doing this week? Why don’t you come to Nashville and check out what we’re doing in the studio?”
What were your goals for Cosmetics?
There wasn’t a whole lot of planning other than getting us all in the same place at the same time [laughs]. We wanted to do something pretty similar to what we did the first time. The only problem was, this time we knew we were a band! But in terms of songwriting, I approached it the same way. I didn’t bring in much material. I wanted to write it as we were going along. We limited ourselves to 10 days. It was kind of hectic.
Wait—10 days to write, rehearse, and record the whole album?
Yeah. That’s how we did it the first time. I’d be like “I have an idea—let’s riff on it.” We’d roll tape, and then I’d see if I could write some lyrics for it. That was it.
Did you do all the writing?
Hardy brought in some songs he’d written, but didn’t get to use with his band. He did that the first time, too. Also, Ian has the George Harrison syndrome in the Black Lips—they give him like one song per record, so he had a few he’d written.
Selfies of all the members of Diamond Rugs.
It’s striking how well you all interact musically. Is playing together as comfortable as it sounds?
It’s surprising to me most of the time. With Deer Tick, we have a thing—we’ve just been doing it for so long. We may not see each other for a couple months but when we get back together, we know what to expect from each other. With Diamond Rugs, when we get together, everybody’s thinking, “Well, how’s this gonna go?”
Is that a challenge?
More than anything else, I have trouble remembering all the lyrics to the Diamond Rugs songs because I don’t sing them every day. So there’s a little uneasiness to it, especially when we play live. But when we get in the groove, something cool happens with the six of us. It wasn’t something that we really expected, but it’s a result we’re happy with.
John McCauley’s Diamond Rugs Gear
Guitars
1978 Telecaster Custom
1967 Fender Mustang
Handmade (by McCauley) seafoam-green Jazzmaster copy
Fender Jag-Stang
Amps
Fender Hot Rod Deville 4x10 (live)
1967 Fender Princeton Reverb (studio)
Old Music Man 212-HD (studio)
Custom 45-watt John Davidson amp and 2x12 cabinet with 80-watt Celestions (studio)
Effects
Fulltone OCD
Boss CH-1 Super Chorus
Boss CH-1 Super Chorus (with B output plugged to create vibrato)
Boss FZ-5 Fuzz
BOSS BF-3 Flanger
MXR Carbon Copy Analog Delay
How did you track the album?
We did most things live to 8-track. We’d leave two or three tracks open for any overdubs. Sometimes, we’d leave the lead vocal off [the initial take]. We’d do all the drums onto one track. There are some songs with up to five instruments on one track. We had to do some really careful punching in and out. We actually made some mistakes and blew over some stuff that we couldn’t do again.But it’s fun. It’s a challenge, and it keeps you creative.
Is that different from how you record with Deer Tick?
On Deer Tick’s last record, we did basic tracks to 24-track tape, put them into Pro Tools, and did our editing and overdubs there. Every instrument was very isolated. Every drum had its own track. I don’t necessarily love recording like that, but I do like the product that comes at the end.
Diamond Rugs is much more than blowing off steam, though blowing off steam is the first thing that comes to mind. It’s quick and it’s pretty simple, even blending guitars to get them onto one track. It’s just kind of careless. We play, and we’re like: “Doesn’t that sound good? Because it’s not going to change much, even when we mix it. This is it!”
Does the live approach make you more focused in the studio?
I suppose—or maybe not. It just forces you to make really quick decisions. I’d like to try some of that with Deer Tick on our next record—we could use an experience like that.With Deer Tick, though, I feel a bit of added pressure because it’s much more my career and my life than Diamond Rugs. I guess it would be worth a try. We’ve done a few tracks in that style for compilations, cover songs, or whatever. I think we’re going to get together this spring for a week in Nashville and see what happens.
YouTube It
Diamond Rugs bring their raw, ragged energy to Philadelphia’s World Café in this six-song concert.
Touring must be hard on everyone’s schedule. How’s that working out?
With this tour and record, everybody wants to do a good job. We’re going to practice for a couple of days and do a warm-up show. We’re not touring with a horn section or anything. We talked about the idea of using social media to find local musicians. My job is pretty simple: just play guitar and sing. I don’t even play that many leads. I just have to remember all my lyrics [laughs]. That’s my biggest challenge!
After 17 years of studio silence, Adam Franklin and Jim Hartridge bring back the noise.
Every decade or so, psychedelia returns in one form or another. Today, bands like Tame Impala, Temples, and Oracles carry the paisley-tinged torch. But back in the early ’90s, the leading practitioners of lysergic guitar freakouts were Britain’s so called “shoegaze” bands: My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, Ride, Moose—and Swervedriver. (The disparaging “shoegaze” label stemmed from the accusation that the bands were more concerned about tapping the correct pedal than engaging the audience.)
Formed in Oxford, England, in 1989 by Adam Franklin and Jim Hartridge, Swervedriver came out of the gate swinging. “Rave Down,” with its pounding guitars and machine-gun drumming, had as much in common with early punk as with psychedelia. Anyone yet to experience the one-two-three punch of Mezcal Head’s opening tracks, “For Seeking Heat,” “Duel,” and “Blowin’ Cool,” is in for a grand sonic assault.
After a 10-year break, the band hit the stages again in 2008, leading the way for the current shoegaze revival. They’ve just released I Wasn’t Born To Lose You, their fifth album, and their first since 1998’s 99th Dream. Many fans consider the new record to be one of the band’s finest moments. We sat down with Adam and Jim after a string of shows at the South by Southwest festival.
Who are your influences? Adam Franklin: Well, you have to love Jimi Hendrix. Marc Bolan’s an interesting case. The other night I spoke with Steve Kilbey of the Church, who is a big T. Rex fan. We agreed that when Marc was doing acoustic stuff, he used really weird structures. Then he learned to play electric guitar and became less imaginative in a way. He became more rock ’n’ roll, playing lots of E and A and blues scales. He was still a great songwriter, though. Sonic Youth and Dinosaur Jr. were influences as well. It was great that J Mascis could do something so melodic and noisy at the same time. And the Stooges of course.
Jim Hartridge: James Williamson! He’s one of our original influences. We still play Stooges songs at soundchecks. He’s also Johnny Marr’s favorite guitar player, which is bizarre, isn’t it? Johnny’s such a light player, and James plays so hard.
Franklin: He’s intricate as well, though. You can hear it on the acoustic songs on Raw Power.
Did they influence the entire Oxford scene? Franklin:I don’t know really, but I think of Ride as sort of a cross between the Stooges and the Byrds.
Swervedriver was the heaviest band in that scene. Did you guys feel like outsiders? Hartridge: Have you seen the film Anyone Can Play Guitar?It’s about the Oxford scene, and how cohesive it was. At the very end there’s a clip of me saying, “Ah, there wasn’t really a scene at all, was there?” [Laughs.] But from the American point of view it might have looked like a scene, because the entire U.K. is a relatively small area.People know each other.
How did you two meet? Hartridge: Same primary school, same secondary school, same college and further education.
Did you grow up playing guitar together? Franklin: No. The first band I was in was with Si Quinn on guitar. His brother, Mick, was in Supergrass. Mick is playing bass with us on this tour, actually.The first time I ever played electric guitar was at his house when I was 16. His older brother, Simon, was in the Suspects. Mick asked me to join, and I said yeah, because I had a guitar, but no amp. The first riff I played through an amp was “Silver Machine” by Hawkwind.
Hartridge: I was in a rival band called the Bogarts, and we rehearsed in the same place. I was in a band with other people in the same circle. Our “Wheatley Scene.” [Laughs.] Wheatley is a village outside Oxford.
Adam Franklin and Jim Hartridge arrange their pedals in semicircles. Pedalboards are “just too dainty,” says Jim. Photo by Alex Maiolo
When did you two play together? Franklin: We were a bit bored with our bands. It was the discovery of the Stooges that really kicked things off. At our first gig we played “Search and Destroy,” “Chinese Rocks,” “Louie Louie”—Stooges-style—and “Ramblin’ Rose.” That’s it. When I was in bands before, if I did a guitar solo, it would be sort of like Hugh Cornwell from the Stranglers, or Robby Krieger. You can tell that they’ve worked it out in advance, whereas Jim would go off on an improvised thing. I was thinking, “How the hell does he do that?”
Hartridge: Maybe it was just laziness, never really bothering to work things out.
As things came together in what would later be known as “shoegaze,” did you feel the bands involved had a common goal? Hartridge: Yeah. We moved to London, and suddenly we were surrounded by all these other bands, many that had moved from other places. There was also the “lurch” scene, which was London’s equivalent of grunge—bands like Silverfish, Th’ Faith Healers, Milk, who were doing much heavier things. “Shoegaze” was first used to describe a Moose show. There were light bands, like Slowdive, and heavy bands. We were friendly with all of them. I think we fell in the middle.
Franklin: Everyone was of the same mindset.We all mixed at the same pub in Camden: The Falcon.
Many of your songs are effects-driven. Do you compose with effects, or are they the icing on the cake? Franklin: We embellish massively with effects, but I think you could get away with playing our songs around a campfire on an acoustic.
Did producer Alan Moulder influence your sound? Franklin: Yes. Of course, we didn’t know what we were doing, and Alan really does. We needed somebody to steer the ship in terms of production, and he made things sound big.
Hartridge: We’d get a good take, and Alan would say, “Okay, go away for a half hour.” When we came back, everything sounded absolutely huge. It was like, “How the hell did you do that?” He got all the frequencies right. He found a space for all of the guitars. That’s his forte, really: finding a way through the dense forest of sound.
Franklin: John Catlin, Alan’s protégé, did I Wasn’t Born To Lose You at Alan Moulder and [producer] Flood’s studio. I assume he used our older albums as a reference point. Everybody used to mention that we layer our guitars. I always thought, “Why wouldn’t you?” It seems pretty stupid to be in the studio and not do that for this kind of music. Anyway, John’s got the same skills at placing guitars and all the percussive stuff after working with Alan for so long. He did a great job.
Swervedriver’s Jim Hartridge and Adam Franklin often swap gear. Hartridge notably plays Les Pauls, but he’s recently been playing an offset-shaped custom David Ayers guitar that belongs to Franklin. Photo by Liv Niles
What’s different about touring and recording these days? Franklin: It’s better, and we have more freedom. It might be harder for some bands, but we have a history to lean on. It’s so easy to make a record now. We’ve been touring the last few years, but having a new album has upped the ante. There are people who didn’t know about us, but have heard the new album. I’ve seen people tweeting, “I’ve just discovered this great new band: Swervedriver.”
I assume you spent considerably less making this record. Hartridge: Considerably less.
Adam: For major-label bands it’s probably the same as it always was. The labels push bands to spend a phenomenal amount of money. If they don’t make it back, they’ll be dropped within one album. These days, they don’t want to spend a million quid twice over. It’s a dangerous time to get involved with a major label.You don’t have to, unless you’re trying to become an arena band.Hartridge: It was a double-edged thing for us to be on a major label. At the time, it was the only thing to do, but we don’t own those records. The dreaded words “in perpetuity” are in the contract, so we can never get those recordings back. At the same time, if we’d been on an indie label, we might not have been well known in the States.
Adam, were always a Jazzmaster player? Franklin: I played a Jaguar on the first EP, Son of Mustang Ford, when I was also playing my Shergold Nu Meteor. On the second, Rave Down, we rented a Jaguar for some reason, but it didn’t have the right crunch, so we had some pedal on all the time. Then I realized the Jazzmaster is a bigger guitar with a bigger sound.
Do you still have the Shergold? Those are really underrated. Franklin: It’s still in good nick, yeah. I recently learned that only a few Nu Meteors were made. In 1980 there were only like 30 or something.
Adam Franklin’s Gear
Guitars
Sunburst ’62 Fender Jazzmasters (2)
Amps
Vox AC30
Marshall JCM800 through a Mesa/Boogie Rectifier Series 2x12
Effects
Catalinbread Sabbra Cadabra overdrive/treble boost
Vox Wah
Catalinbread Montavillian
Boss BD-2 Blues Driver
Boss GE-7 Equalizer
Boss DF-2 Super Feedbacker and Distortion
Catalinbread Talisman
Roland RE-20 Space Echo
Boss DD-5 Digital Delay
Boss DD-3 Digital Delay
Boss RC-30 Loop Station
Ernie Ball volume pedal
Boss TU-2 tuner
Strings and Picks
D’Addario strings (.010–.046)
Jim Dunlop Nylon picks (.60 mm)
Guitars
Gibson Les Paul Custom
David Ayers custom (offset shape)
Amps
Blackstar Artisan combo
Blackstar Artisan half-stack
Effects
Boss CS-3 Compression Sustainer
Boss GE-7 Equalizer
Catalinbread Octapussy
Boss SD-1 Super OverDrive
Dunlop Cry Baby Wah
DigiTech Whammy (original)
DigiTech Whammy 3
Catalinbread Echorec
Line 6 Echo Park
Electro-Harmonix Little Big Muff Pi
Boss RV-2 Digital Reverb
Boss PN-2 Tremolo/Pan
Boss TU-2 Tuner
Strings and picks
D’Addario strings (.010–.046)
Jim Dunlop Nylon picks (.73 mm or .88 mm)
They’re associated with many bands: Joy Division, Genesis, Julian Cope, the Church. Franklin: I got mine in Wheatley, after I sold my first guitar, a Les Paul copy. It was an ugly guitar, but then we sprayed it purple—typical of the era, I guess. In ’85 our original bass player made the metal scratch plate. It looks kind of cool, and it plays like a dream. I remember the day I picked it up and went, “Fucking hell, this is quite good, isn’t it?”
Jim, you’ve always been a Les Paul player? Hartridge: I have, though I’ve got a lot of other guitars that we use when we record. There are three Telecasters on the album, for example. I’ve got a ’74, but funnily enough, the one that sounds best is an old Squier.
An early Japanese Squier? Hartridge: Yes. It’s really good. Mine has a humbucker—and a great rhythm tone. I’ve also got a newer Squier Jazzmaster. Some of them are terrible, but mine is actually quite good.We used a Danelectro on this record, too. I went to do a soft part on “Everso,” and engineer thought I meant to just mic it acoustically. He convinced me to try it, so we just put a mic out in front of it.It wasn’t plugged in at all, just close-miked. When the sound fades out, it’s just that Danelectro.
Franklin:Some of the backing tracks on the album were recorded in Melbourne in a one-day session. I used a great Les Paul that I bought from Tym Guitars in Brisbane.
What is the offset guitar that you play, Jim? Hartridge: That’s a guitar Adam was given by David Ayers.
Franklin: He’s a luthier in Arizona. He made one for Debbie Smith from the bands Curve and Echobelly. He just approached me and said he’d like to make me a guitar and asked what I wanted. I found this picture of a “Telemaster,” which has a Jazzmaster shape, but some Telecaster features. He showed up at a gig in Portland with that amazing guitar.
Hartridge: It’s got a really good whammy bar.
Jazzmaster-style? Franklin: More or less.
Do you record with full-sized amps, or low-power combos? Franklin:In the London studio, we both used a Marshall JCM800 on every song.
Jim, I noticed you’re playing Blackstars live. Hartridge: Yeah. They sound like Marshalls, but they’re thicker. You’ve got to pick and choose with Marshalls—some can sound thin. I didn’t even know what to expect with the Blackstars, but I got the half-stack and the Artisan combo. The combo sounds best. It’s got no gain control—just the natural sound. I’m very happy with them.
Adam, you’re still using an AC30 live? Franklin: Yes. For a while I was partially sponsored by Matchless, who are great people, and I played a DC-30. Vox AC30s had a habit of blowing up or doing other strange things, but the Matchless ones are really sturdy. I do prefer the Vox, though. I also use a 50-watt Marshall JCM800, going through a smaller [Mesa/Boogie 2x12] cabinet. I’ve always had the Marshall for the grit and the Vox for the chime. The crazier pedals go to the Vox, with the signal split at the reverbs, delays, and Roland Space Echo. The Marshall holds it all down.
You’re using the new RE-20 Space Echo pedal? Franklin: Yeah, a nice guy I know who works in a guitar shop in Minneapolis came to a show and said, “Adam, I want to give you this.” I said, “I can’t accept this!” His girlfriend said, “Look, he’s not going to take no for an answer.” The thing about real Space Echoes is, you need your hands to play around with them, so it’s a bit counterintuitive to have it down at your feet. There’s one particular setting I like for swells at the end of songs.I also use a Boss Feedbacker and Distortion pedal for a sound that no other pedal makes, because mine is broken. It doesn’t hold the note, like it’s supposed to—it oscillates. I always dread it fixing itself. Years ago I was onstage at Cat’s Cradle [in Chapel Hill, North Carolina], and it did. I picked it up and threw it down on the ground, and it was fixed! Or broken again [laughs].
Hartridge: It’s my pedal, actually. I bought it 25 years ago, and it didn’t work. Adam started using it, and I haven’t gotten it back since.
Jim, why do you use two Whammy pedals? Hartridge: The original Whammy has a setting the others just don’t do. For some reason, it’s not on the later versions, and it’s the best sound in the pedal. I use it on three songs, so I keep that pedal on that setting. I use the other one just for wobbling down a tone or two semitones. I should mention that I also love the Line 6 Echo Park. It does the backwards tape thing well, and some other cool things.
Franklin: I did a tour last year with David Baker from Mercury Rev, borrowed his Echo Park, and had to buy one. They’re ugly pedals, but great ones, and you can stomp them like a boss. It doesn’t have any fiddly buttons.
You guys still use a lot of Boss pedals. Franklin: It’s funny: People get obsessed with boutique effects. Someone online was discussing our rigs, and how many Boss pedals we use, and said, “They get a pretty good sound, considering the gear they use.”
Franklin: They’re quite sturdy.
Hartridge: They’ll last your whole life.
You don’t use pedalboards—your effects are laid out in semicircles. Hartridge: I can’t stand hunting for a little switch on a tight pedalboard. If you’re in a rush, you can’t be delicate. It’s rock ’n’ roll! Pedalboards are good for carrying around. Beyond that, I don’t understand them one bit. They’re just too dainty.
YouTube It
Watch Swervedriver playing a live set in the KEXP studios.
Blues and jazz influences run deep for this retro rock ’n’ roller from Tulsa.
It’s not uncommon for a guitarist to become steeped in a particular era or genre. But it’s rare that a player pulls off a signature approach in doing so. JD McPherson, with his deep knowledge of 1950s and ’60s rock and R&B, is just the sort of exceptional musician who makes something new from old materials.
McPherson, who turns 38 this month, grew up in Oklahoma on a cattle ranch. He took up the guitar at 13 and essentially worked backwards, starting off in punk bands and learning about early rock by checking out the musicians who inspired such groups as the Clash. Though a formidable guitarist by his late teens, McPherson studied film as an undergraduate and open media as a graduate student. While he focused on video-art installations, he devoured obscured 1950s sides and played guitar in his downtime.
After school, McPherson took a job in the art department at a middle school in Tulsa, but was fired from that post when the school’s administration took exception to his avant-garde tendencies. He also played in the Tulsa-based rockabilly group the Starkweather Boys, catching the attention of Jimmy Sutton, a Chicago bassist, record label owner, and producer. This led to a gig playing with Sutton, who eventually produced and released McPherson’s strong first solo album, 2010’s Signs & Signifiers (re-released on Rounder in 2012).
Following a 2014 EP, The Warm Covers, McPherson released his sophomore full-length album, Let the Good Times Roll. This time McPherson teamed up with producer Mark Neill, who’s known for his work with the Black Keys. With Sutton on acoustic and electric basses, Jason Smay on drums, Raynier Jacob Jacildo on piano and organ, and Doug Corcoran on saxophone and miscellaneous instruments, McPherson has created an album that’s a lexicon of vintage rock grooves and timbres, and an incredibly fun listen.
McPherson told us about his antecedents and his fondness for Partscasters and boutique pedals, as well as working in the time machine that is Neill’s studio.
Describe your formative musical experiences.
The very earliest musical experience was when my sister put a Walkman on my ears and played “The Reflex” by Duran Duran. I remember it was like having candy in my ears because at that point, I’d only listened to what my parents played in the car. I had much older brothers who were musicians, and when I first became a really active listener, they turned me on to guitar-oriented music of the ’60s and ’70s: Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and the Allman Brothers. That of course got me wanting to play the guitar. My oldest brother told me, “If you can play ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ you can play anything.” And that’s how it all began.
“I can’t live without tremolo and delay,” says McPherson. Photo by Sarah Hess.
When I was a teenager I got into punk rock, which my brothers weren’t at all interested in, and everything that springs off into punk. For example, take London Calling by the Clash. It might be categorized as punk, but it encompasses so many different categories—rockabilly, ska, rocksteady. It really opened a lot of doors for me. My dad is really into Delta blues and jazz, so that rubbed off on me, too.
When did you first get immersed in the 1950s rock that’s such a big influence on your sound?
I was probably 17. Of course I’d heard the music before that, but it didn’t really click with me until I listened to it carefully. I got really into songs like “Midnight Shift” and “Love Me” with Sonny Curtis on guitar—such a great player. I found 1950s rock at just the right time in my life. It was energetic and fun music for teenagers, but it also had great finesse and musicality. At the same time it was raw and primal, with the immediacy of the punk rock that I was really into. In any case, once I got a hold of ’50s rock, I started playing songs like Buddy Holly’s “Rock Around with Ollie Vee” in my punk band.
How did you go about absorbing this music? Did you sit down with a record player and transcribe the tunes?
Figuring out Merle Travis picking on my own was a big thing. I also learned from videocassettes, which were not readily available like YouTube lessons are these days. My family and I used to go to a music store in Portsmouth, Arkansas, and there I found rockabilly VHS lessons by Jim Weider and Brian Setzer. I started with the Weider tape, which taught specific licks, like in the style of Cliff Gallup, and then I graduated to Setzer, where he’s doing totally nuts, acrobatic stuff.
I’ve always had a pretty good ear and have been able to pick things out for myself. The hardest thing I ever did was transcribe the head for Django Reinhardt’s “Minor Swing.” This was before there was slow-down software, which would have made things a whole lot easier!
Are you a jazz fan, and if so, how has it impacted your music?
Oh god, yeah, absolutely. Charlie Christian is one of the finest players in any style who ever lived—I really love that stuff. Although it doesn’t find its way into most of my music, jazz is definitely a strong influence. Having that vocabulary is really important in terms of fluidity on the guitar. Also, it’s interesting how jazz has filtered into blues and rock. T-Bone Walker listened to a lot of Django, and Chuck Berry listened to a lot of T-Bone, so it’s all very closely knit.
JD McPherson has a thing for Fender Telecasters, particularly Partscasters. “For about 10 years the only guitar I played was a butterscotch Tele body that had a C-shaped ’50s-style neck and even a Squier neck on it for a while when the other neck broke. I put a Bigsby on it, and a Vintage Vibe Charlie Christian pickup in the neck, as well as their blade pickup in the bridge. I turned the switch plate around and put a fast tone pot in it, so I could do tone bends, especially for
more country-influenced playing.” Photo by Mick Orlosky.
Who are some other guitarists in your pantheon?
Mickey Baker was one of the coolest guitar players ever. I really love listening to Bo Diddley. It’s almost like his thing is not about the guitar. He invented a new instrument and was so innovative in his approach, thinking about music on a multiplanar level: rhythmic and percussive as much as it is melodic, and the tremolo adds a whole other aspect. I’m a big fan of Johnny Marr from the Smiths; Reeves Gabrels, a very interesting guitarist who played with David Bowie for a while; and Grady Martin, who was probably the most important session player ever. And yesterday I stayed up just about all night watching every video online I could find of Nels Cline—amazing stuff.
I really love drummers and bassists, too, and I listen to them as much as guitar players. I love Keith Richards and Mick Taylor, but when I listen to the Rolling Stones, I really hone in on what Charlie Watts is doing. [Motown session bassist] James Jamerson is a huge influence as well.
The album has a feel that’s at once retro and modern.
In some ways it lives in the analog domain—we recorded a lot of the parts to tape—but there’s definitely no reason to not take advantage of any musical tool available to you. I’m pretty pragmatic: If it sounds good and it helps your music, then why not throw in some overdubs after you’ve done the main recording session?
What was it like to record with Mark Neill?
We recorded at his Soil of the South Studio, in Valdosta, Georgia. It’s like taking a trip back in time. The studio looks like someone found an abandoned building and opened it up to find a studio from the early ’60s. It doesn’t look at all hip, with its wood paneling and linoleum floors, but it’s definitely the coolest place I’ve ever recorded. Mark has so much great stuff in there—one of the congas that Louis Prima played on his Capitol recordings, every Neumann and RCA mic you can imagine, two big German plate reverbs … essentially any tool you need to make a new record sound as if it were made in 1965 or earlier. Plus Mark has the huge knowledge base needed to do the job. He studied with geniuses like Owen Bradley [one of the biggest producers in Nashville during the 1950s and ’60s]. So recording with Mark is, in a way, like making a record with Owen Bradley.
How’d you get such great guitar sounds?
I played everything through a 1950s Magnatone, and mainly used a Fender Strat and a Rickenbacker. We also used a 1950s Gretsch drum kit—the same one heard on the Black Keys album Brothers. All are such good and versatile instruments, which offered me so many fresh tones.
JD McPherson's Gear
Guitars
Telecaster-style guitars from parts, including Vintage Vibe pickups and a Bigsby tailpiece
Fender Custom Shop 1950s-style Telecaster with TK Smith pickups
Fender Custom Shop 1950s-style Stratocaster with Curtis Novak pickups
Amps
Texotica Presidio 15
Effects
Dr. Scientist Reverberator
Danelectro Reel Echo
Fulltone Supa-Trem
Nocturne DynoBrain Preamp
Strings and Picks
Assorted D’Addario
InTune GrippX-XJJb Jumbo Jazz picks (.88 mm)
Which specific Strat and Rickenbacker?
It’s a really special Ric, a beautiful bird’s-eye maple 381 with a tremolo tailpiece—Mark’s main guitar that he uses all the time on records. The Strat was a repro of Eric Clapton’s Blackie—something Mark acquired for me just for the record. He bought it because it sounded amazing unplugged. I ended up using it for half the record because I loved it so much.
What are your personal guitars?
I’ve always been a big fan of Fender Telecasters, particularly Partscasters. For about 10 years the only guitar I played was a butterscotch Tele body that had a C-shaped ’50s-style neck and even a Squier neck on it for a while when the other neck broke. I put a Bigsby on it, and a Vintage Vibe Charlie Christian pickup in the neck, as well as their blade pickup in the bridge. I turned the switch plate around and put a fast tone pot in it, so I could do tone bends, especially for more country-influenced playing.
Recently Fender built me a ’50s-style Strat. I had Curtis Novak make me a custom pickguard with some drool-worthy pickups for it. They’re so hot and really sound incredible. And my No. 1 right now is a ’50s-style Tele. I had TK Smith, who’s a genius, make me pickups and a nice pickguard for the guitar. He’s out in the desert, in Joshua Tree, California, and he also makes his own instruments based on Paul Bigsby guitars of the 1950s—super artisanal electric guitars.
What about amps?
I run through my Texotica Presidio 15 made by Billy Horton, who’s got this great studio called Fort Horton, near Austin. A while back, Billy started making amps based on ’50s Tweeds. Mine’s like a Fender Pro, with a 15" speaker. I really love it. I’ve used it for four years, and it’s been like a tank.
And effects?
I recently fell in love with this company up in Canada called Dr. Scientist. When we recorded the record with Mark Neill, we used so much plate reverb, and I asked Mark if he knew of any pedal I could use live for emulating the plate. He flipped out and said that Dr. Scientist’s Reverberator is the best reverb pedal in the world, and I love it—it’s a fantastic-sounding pedal and so well built.
I have a couple of others. I can’t live without tremolo and delay. I use a Fulltone Supa-Trem and a Danelectro Reel Echo, which they don’t make anymore. And I’m interested in checking out Strymon’s El Capistan echo pedal, it looks really nice. At some point I got a Nocturne DynoBrain Preamp, and it just sat in my suitcase for a while. But after I finally plugged it in to see what it’s all about, I started using it all the time to add a little clean grit to my sound. It pairs so well with echo and reverb.
Photo by Mark Newsome Kartarik.
The album has such great arrangements. Did you write the parts, or was it more of a collective thing between you and your bandmates?
For many of the parts, I came up with the arrangements, although things of course changed organically in the studio as we were recording. For example, “Bridgebuilder” has this cool drum part that I’d had in my head for a long time. Making this record was kind of weird in that I didn’t share the music with anyone until we were in the studio—not even Mark heard any of it in advance. That was a tough sell.
Why didn’t you share the music in advance?
I was holding it close to my chest because I didn’t feel comfortable sharing music that was probably completely different from what my bandmates expected. The songs are pretty out there compared to the first record. The good part was that my band is so great. Those guys can pretty much nail whatever you ask them to do. They have such an organic approach and they really gave the songs the kind of urgency that they called for. And it made the music sound fresh to work up the songs in the studio, and then learn them to play live.
How’d you get that unusual sound on the intro to “Bossy,” almost like a mbira or thumb piano?
I played Mark’s 1960s Gibson B-25—it sounded like a million bucks—and a 1960s Gibson nylon-string as well. That intro is a composite of a few acoustic parts. We got every element down to tape, and then re-amped it all through the Magnatone.
“It Shook Me Up” has a great baritone solo.
That’s actually Mark Neill on his Danelectro 6-string electric bass. He’s not just an amazing producer but also an incredible player, and I really wanted to find a spotlight for him on the record.
“Mother of Lies” also has an excellent guitar solo, presumably yours. What’s your approach to soloing?
When recording a solo, I usually take a few passes. We recorded “Mother” live and the band kept playing until we found a groove. I got an idea, started the solo and kept building on it. On the record you can hear that there’s a bit of a slowdown after the solo. That wasn’t intentional, but since it was the best portion of the solo it made it to the record.
YouTube It
Watch JD McPherson and his band at an in-studio performance at Seattle’s KEXP.How do you find your own voice in channeling 1950s rock?
First and foremost, writing songs is the most important thing I do. I learned pretty early on that there might be some really cool stuff happening on a record, but if the songs don’t resonate on some level, then it doesn’t work. Being that my preference is for music from that time period, my songs are of course going to be evocative of that era. I love rock ’n’ roll so much—I’ve loved it for half of my life—and so it completely informs what I do.
Letting the Good Times Roll
In his own words, producer Mark Neill discusses recording JD McPherson’s new album.Before we made the record, JD and I talked for months. He would mention certain 1950s tracks, asking if I could identify which guitars were used, so that he could get the same sound. So I’d go dig out the records—I had all the 45s he mentioned—and almost every time it was a Stratocaster. A friend of mine had a ’57 reissue with an alder body that just has the most beautiful unplugged sound, and this solved the problem of how to get that old sound. We strung the guitar with semi-flat medium gauge strings, of course with a wound G, for a period-correct sound. We recorded the guitar electrically as well as acoustically, with a Neumann or SM57, since on those old Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens tracks the vocal mic also captured the sound of the guitar.
The Magnatone amp we used is not actually a Magnatone. It’s got a 1951 Magnatone cabinet that I gutted and turned into a monster amp with a 6V6, 12A7 front end, and a JBL speaker. It delivers a wallop and is completely wild, barely stable enough to use as an amp. If your guitar has a scratchy pot when you play through it, it’s the loudest scratchy pot you’ve ever heard.
As for acoustics, we used a Gibson B-25, a weird little guitar that I write all my songs on. Everyone who comes to my studio loves to play it because it’s got a slender neck and low tension, and it’s a paradoxically loud guitar that can keep up with a Martin D-18. We also used my short-scale 1960s Gibson nylon-string and processed the corn out of it: I re-amped it out in the hallway of the studio. There’s something fascinating about applying a lot of overdrive to a guitar that doesn’t sustain a lot. I got this idea after seeing Willie Nelson’s touring rig and thinking, “Oh, that is so sick.”
I’ve never made a record like this before—it’s just not the way I do things. Most people think of it as very live-sounding, but it was constructed like a modern hip-hop record, with everything recorded in tiny bits and pieces. We started by recording just upright bass and kick drums and gradually worked out all the other layers. I used far more tracks on this album than any I’ve ever recorded. But it turned out to be a great record, and in the end that’s all that matters. —Mark Neill