Guest picker Billy Doyle of Man/Woman/Chainsaw joins reader Eddie Carter and PGstaff in musing on the joys of playing music.
A: I think the most rewarding aspect of music is the rush and chaos of playing live shows with my friends. I really love the tension—not knowing what’ll go wrong each night and what’ll come together nicely.
Billy’s recent fascination has been with The Last Waltz, both film and accompanying album.
Obsession: This summer I discovered the Band’s The Last Waltz concert film and album and fell into a mini obsession with it. Seeing some of the most stellar songwriters of their era share a stage is really special, not to mention how comfortable as a unit the Band is and how high the standard of musicianship is—Levon Helm singing his heart out while playing the drums is particularly wicked. Joni Mitchell’s performance of “Coyote” and Van Morrison’s rendition of “Caravan” are both particularly special, as I grew up listening to those artists. It’s a great insight to be able to learn these songs exactly how they played them.
Eddie Carter - Reader of the Month
A: The most rewarding aspect of playing for me is when I connect with the audience. The main purpose of playing music live, in my opinion, has always been to take the audience away from everyday life for a while. Life smacks a person down a lot, whether it’s a bad day at work or school, bills you can’t keep up with, bad news, etc. When a person goes to hear live music, they want to forget that and have some fun and unwind. When I see the audience smile, sing along, or dance, I know I’ve managed to help with that. That’s why I enjoy doing cover songs and just mix in an original here or there. It’s also why I try to do a variety of music from several decades.
A recent go-to for Eddie has been Duane Betts’ Wild & Precious Life.
Obsession: I guess my current obsession is looping. I don’t plan to get into looping as deep as Phil Keaggy, or use drums and keyboards. I do enjoy stacking parts on guitar and even playing mandolin over a guitar loop, though. It helps with making a song sound more like the recorded version. I also use a looper, a Boss RC-500, to store and make backing tracks for a few songs.
Jon Levy - Publisher
For Jon, Pretenders’ self-titled never gets old.
A: Playing music has enriched my life in so many ways, it’s hard to pick the most important one. Is it the headrush from writing and recording? The thrill of live gigs? The champagne-soaked limousine rides with supermodels and celebrity fans? (Just kidding about that last one.) To be honest, it’s the deep friendship and goofy camaraderie with my bandmates. My entire social life is based on music, and it makes the backaches, hangovers, and tinnitus totally worth it.
Nashville-based singer-songwriter Stephen Wilson Jr. is in Jon’s current rotation.
Obsession: Not looking at my hands when I’m playing. It forces me to concentrate on what I’m hearing and feeling—stuff that’s actually musical, rather than visual. I still ogle the fretboard a bunch, but I’m consciously trying to rely on my other senses as much as possible.
Brett Petrusek - Director of Advertising
Brett’s a big fan of Iron Maiden’s Killers, but also loves Miles Davis’ timeless Kind of Blue.
A: All of it. There are so many seasons and the change of the seasons is what makes it so great. Hitting the perfect riff to inspire a new song. Recording: layering guitars and vocals, hearing the tracks build up and turn into a mix (I really love this part). Creating a body of work. Being on stage with your band and feeling the roar of your guitar through the PA. Connecting with an audience, or better yet, knowing a single person connected with your music in a meaningful way. Watching my team develop and get better at the game. I feel fortunate just to be able to do it and to be able to share the experience with my group, Fuzzrd. The single most important thing? It’s unconditionally always there for me—and it alway starts with a guitar.
Irish hard-rocker Gary Moore’s Victims of the Future is a favorite of Brett’s.
Obsession: Taking a page from the legendary Gary Moore’s playbook: “So try and leave some big moments of silence in your solos—at least twice as long as what comes to you instinctively. After a while, you get in the habit of hearing those spaces, and the waiting comes naturally. And if you’ve got a good tone, you’ll create this anticipation where the audience can’t wait for the next note.”
The father of British blues, who died this week at age 90, is remembered in testimonials from Robben Ford, Rick Vito, Coco Montoya, Buddy Whittington, Carolyn Wonderland, and others from his post-Eric Clapton, Peter Green, and Mick Taylor years. Dan Forte also looks at Mayall’s compelling discography.
In 2021, the Madfish label released a 35-CD boxed set with a 168-page hardcover book on John Mayall, then 87. Let that sink in. How many blues artists, living or dead, ever received that kind of treatment? What made John Mayall: The First Generation even more remarkable is that it only documented the British blues legend’s career up to 1974—at that point, 10 of his 55 years as a recording artist.
Robben Ford surely speaks for many, noting, “The guy has a major place in musical history for embracing, practicing, playing, and promoting the blues in England, and spreading what might have remained a small, cult music form in rural North America to the rest of the world.”
“He holds a position similar to Miles Davis in jazz for opening the door for a lot of deserving talent to be heard, allowing them to go on to brilliant careers.”—Robben Ford
Mayall, who died on July 22, at age 90, grew up in Cheadle Hulme, Cheshire, England. From beginnings with the George Formby banjo and ukulele how-to guide, he sustained a long, prolific career with few equals in blues. In the 2004 documentary John Mayall—Godfather of British Blues, he reflected, “The focus had always been on the road work, rather than hoping for some hit record.”
For better or worse, he was best known for the famous sidemen who passed through his band. As Ford says, “He was the mothering womb for a long line of incredibly influential blues guitarists. He holds a position similar to Miles Davis in jazz for opening the door for a lot of deserving talent to be heard, allowing them to go on to brilliant careers.”
After the live John Mayall Plays John Mayall, with guitarist Roger Dean, 1966’s so-called “Beano” album ushered in essential appearances of Clapton, Peter Green, and Mick Taylor, on the Blues Breakers, A Hard Road, and Crusade albums, respectively
With the release of what’s often called the Beano album, after the comic book Eric Clapton is reading on its cover, both Clapton’s and Mayall’s legendary status were cemented. For at least two generations of players, Clapton’s version of the Freddie King instrumental “Hide Away” was a litmus test for emerging blues guitarists.
The drummer on Beano and its predecessor was Hughie Flint, who emailed, “Meeting John Mayall in 1957 was a special moment in my musical life, resulting in him becoming my mentor, sharing so much music. John was very much the bandleader, and knew what he wanted from his members. But with me, he let me play how I felt. I owe him so much, without which I would never have had a career in music.”
Clapton, Green, and Taylor all played ’Bursts, but their personalities were radically different. Clapton’s aggressive attack and unprecedented sustain from his Marshall JTM45 (later reissued as the Bluesbreaker amp) contrasted with Green’s pin-drop dynamics and Taylor’s long, unhurried lines. When “Clapton Is God” graffiti appeared, the “guitar hero” die was cast forevermore. Each was spotlighted on a Freddie King instrumental, giving their own spins on “Hideaway” (Clapton), “The Stumble” (Green), and “Driving Sideways” (Taylor). While all three “Kings” were influential, Mayall later pointed out that Eric owed the biggest debt to Freddie, Peter was into B.B., and Mick leaned on Albert.
But the succession of guitar greats didn’t stop there. After 1968’s Blues From Laurel Canyon, Taylor joined the Rolling Stones, and Mayall took a radical turn to an acoustic, drummer-less quartet. With saxophonist Johnny Almond and Jon Mark on gut-string, the live Turning Point (featuring the FM-radio hit “Room to Move”) was his best-selling album.
Still eschewing drummers, his next lineup featured Harvey Mandel and electric-violin wizard Sugarcane Harris on USA Union, with drummer Keef Hartley added for Back to the Roots, in ’71. For Memories, that same year, Mayall tapped guitarist Gerry McGee, a veteran of the Ventures, Monkees, and Delaney & Bonnie.
The years 1972 and ’73 produced Jazz Blues Fusion, Moving On, and Ten Years Are Gone, featuring guitarist Freddy Robinson, whose resume embraced Howlin’ Wolf, Little Walter, Quincy Jones, and others. With trumpeter Blue Mitchell, and saxophonists Clifford Solomon and Red Holloway, the albums went a long way in exposing some jazz greats to blues and rock audiences.
John would challenge you to go further as a musician and performer.”—Rick Vito
As Clapton said in the documentary, “He chose me for the way I play; he didn’t tell me what to play.” That was true for 6-stringers in subsequent lineups, including Hi Tide Harris, Randy Resnick, James Quill Smith, Cid Sanchez, Walter Trout, Debbie Davies, and Rocky Athas.
Rick Vito, whose five-album tenure began in ’75, recalls, “John would challenge you to go further as a musician and performer. When we were playing my hometown of Philadelphia, he said, ‘Okay, you’re starting the show,’ and shoved me onstage by myself! I improvised something of a blues suite and got a great response, followed by John and band joining me and starting the normal set, which was also always subject to change.”
In 1968, Mayall retired the Bluesbreakers name for his band, but by the time this photo was taken, in 1995, he’d revived the moniker for a decade, and it would remain in use for the rest of his career.
Coco Montoya was actually a drummer, and had decided his music career was over prior to an impromptu jam. “I started playing guitar at 13, but it was secondary. In ’84, I played at a jam session where John heard me. The Bluesbreakers reunion with Mick was ending, and I got the call. Clapton was a hero to me, and I tried to emulate him and the others as much as I could; I thought that was the job. John took me aside and said, ‘Look, where’s that guy I saw at the jam session? You’re trying to sound like Eric. You’re not Eric. Don’t forget the first law of the blues: interpretation.’ In doing that, he freed me up from trying to be people that I could never be. John never let anything deter him, which helped me a lot in my solo career.”
After Buddy Whittington opened for John in Dallas in ’92, his phone rang the following year, and he was a Bluesbreaker for 15 years. “Most of the time, John would give you ‘about enough rope to hang yourself,’ meaning just play what you feel. If he didn't like where it was going, especially in the studio, he would stick his head in the doorway and say, 'Take this another way’—but that wasn't very often.”
Carolyn Wonderland came onboard in 2018 and played John’s last show in 2022. “It was such a musical education, as well as how to be a bandleader. He gave me board tapes of about 80 songs from different eras, and every night would be a different set; he never wanted it to be the same. And that was the same with the songs. When it came time for your solo, he’d push you until there was some spark. It’s frightening, jumping off the high dive, but it was so freeing, and he was right there behind you, ready. He made everybody reach inside to find out what your inner voice is. It’s like the graduate school of the blues that you never want to graduate from.”
John Mayall - Room To Move (Live)
John Mayall delivers a fast-paced rendition of his sole radio hit, 1969’s “Room to Move,” which originally appeared on the album The Turning Point.
Although his talent scout abilities often overshadowed his own contributions, constant components were the bandleader’s distinctive high vocals, authoritative piano and organ, harmonica in the Sonny Boy Williamson tradition, and quirky guitar, typically slide—often on homemade axes using Burns and Fender parts.
“When it came time for your solo, he’d push you until there was some spark. It’s frightening, jumping off the high dive, but it was so freeing, and he was right there behind you, ready.”—Carolyn Wonderland
Also, his songwriting expanded the repertoire, with songs such as “Have You Heard” and “The Laws Must Change.” “His voice and harmonica playing were unique and, for me, his greatest gifts,” says Ford. “But, just as important, as a composer he wrote some serious, classic blues that will live on with his recordings.”
For championing the blues, Mayall was awarded Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire in 2005. In 2016, he also received an overdue induction into the Blues Music Hall of Fame, and equally about-time recognition came this year with his induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, alongside his British blues forebear, Alexis Korner.
In his liner notes to A Hard Road, Mayall wrote, rather dramatically, “I accept that I’ve unwittingly hurt a lot of people who’ve known me. I’ve few friends left, and now the only thing to live for is the blues.”
That was on his third album, when he was 33. Thirty-five studio and 33 live albums would follow, and he’d live to be 90. Maybe it was hard, but his bandmates would tell you it was also a joyous road.From Eric Dolphy to Van Morrison, the legendary bassist would not be pinned to any one genre.
I have been lucky enough to spend time with some amazing musicians. To me, every word they uttered was like gold dust. They rarely explained themselves. They would just say something profound and leave you to figure out what the hell it meant. From such utterances, one could extrapolate the meaning of life itself!
One pearl of wisdom that I heard dropped over and over was, “Genre does not exist. It’s an illusion.” This flies in the face of what most of us have been taught. How can genre, part of the bedrock of music anthology, be an illusion? Years later, I understood precisely what this meant, and why they had to say it. For Black so-called “jazz” musicians, the word jazz had often been used for decades to belittle and undermine generations of significant musical achievements. It certainly did not carry the gravitas or respect that “classical music” commanded. To the powers that be, jazz, as a Black music, was seen as a wholly lower art form.
Jazz has always included drawing from and embracing many musics and influences. Each encounter with something new expanded its boundaries further, as its innovators found ways to incorporate more and more sounds. The forces that attempted to shackle jazz to one lane had less to do with genre and more to do with race.
We should all know the name Miles Davis, but there was another lesser known Davis who also serves as a great example of an artist who shattered genre. I’m speaking of the virtuoso bassist, Richard Davis, who passed away this September at the age of 93.“Even if he had decided to retire from music in the ’70s, he would still have been one of the most recorded bassists ever.”
Davis’ resume seems like that of six successful musical careers smashed into one. He was an acoustic-bass virtuoso, born in 1934, whose work encompassed playing with a wide variety of artists. In just one year, 1964, he featured on over 20 groundbreaking albums, led by Joe Henderson, Eric Dolphy, Andrew Hill, Tony Williams, Milt Jackson, Kenny Dorham, Johnny Hodges, Hubert Laws, and more. I could continue listing his discography in that year alone, but I would soon run out of space! He recorded with Bruce Springsteen, both played on and musically directed Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, and performed with a number of orchestras. Suffice it to say, Davis was well respected by great musicians across the entire musical spectrum, and did not allow himself to be restricted by genre or anything else.
Growing up in Chicago, Davis attended DuSable High School and thus was part of that esteemed group who studied under Captain Walter Dyett, including Nat King Cole, Von Freeman, Dinah Washington, Wilbur Ware, and many others. He also attended VanderCook College of Music, and studied double bass under Rudolf Fahsbender of the Chicago Symphony. Even back then, Davis’ musical circles and influences were pretty wide.
Davis eventually moved to NYC with Don Shirley (yes, the same Don Shirley from the 2018 movie Green Book), arriving at a time when musical experimentation and cross-pollination were the norm. With many great musicians from all over the world also arriving, NYC was the perfect environment within which to flourish. After a couple years, Davis had become an in-demand bassist, and by 1957 he’d joined Sarah Vaughan’s band, which he toured and recorded with while continuing to work with many others, including Elvin Jones, Dexter Gordon, Ahmad Jamal, and Thad Jones and Mel Lewis’ Jazz Orchestra, which played three sets every Monday at the Village Vanguard for decades.
Davis repeatedly won the Downbeat Critics Poll for best bassist and was known for being a consummate musician who could actually play anything at a high level. Even if he had decided to retire from music in the ’70s, he would still have been one of the most recorded bassists ever. However, his impressive musical career was but one portion of all that he achieved in his lifetime.
In addition to being a legendary bassist, Davis was also an involved racial-justice activist and humanitarian. He founded the Retention Action Project, a foundation focused on education and encouraging open dialogues around cultural differences. Davis also founded the Richard Davis Foundation for Young Bassists, which has annually placed masterful instructors with young bassists.
It really is no surprise that Richard Davis became the person that he did. He spent his entire life defying meaningless boundaries, whether they were the artificial walls around genre or the arbitrary ideas taught for hundreds of years around race. He used his considerable musical talents, work across many genres, and the respect that these won him throughout his long career, to unite and bring people of different backgrounds together.