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The 1929 Gibson L-5 Andy Fairweather Low plays on Invisible Bluesman was a gift from Eric Clapton and was previously owned by J.J. Cale.
Forget about tangents, dovetails, and hairpin turns when conversing with Fairweather Low. They come with the territory. “My dad liked Lonnie Donegan,” he recalls of the British skiffle king, “and he brought ‘Putting on the Style’ into the house, and ‘Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor’ and ‘My Old Man’s a Dustman,’ which he was. ‘Rock Island Line’ was Lonnie’s only hit in America. I got to play with him later on, with Van Morrison. I also got to play with the Chieftains and Van, and I toured with [English jazz bandleader] Chris Barber. We played on Jools Holland’s show. That was an honor. Georgie Fame was in Van’s band when I was, and I’ve been in the Blue Flames [Fame’s group], and Georgie’s been on two of my albums. He covered ‘Wide-Eyed and Legless,’” a 1975 hit for Fairweather Low.
Despite that patter, he’s not a name-dropper; he’s just talking about his life. A life that has included teen-idol status fronting Amen Corner, the subsequent band Fair Weather and solo albums, inactivity, and then a second career as elite sideman and session guitarist with Roger Waters, Eric Clapton, George Harrison, Bill Wyman, David Crosby, Bob Dylan, Stevie Nicks, Dave Edmunds, Richard Thompson, the Who, Joe Satriani, Kate Bush, the Gaddabouts (with Steve Gadd, Edie Brickell, and Pino Palladino), Kevin Brown, B.B. King, Ringo Starr, Tom Jones, Bonnie Raitt, Mick Fleetwood, John Mayall, Procol Harum, and the inevitable “others.” His songs have been covered by Elton John, Thelma Houston, Joe Cocker, Richie Havens, and Three Dog Night. He even jammed, albeit clumsily, with Jimi Hendrix and later provided background vocals on Hendrix’s remake of “Stone Free.”
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These days his band, the Low Riders, is Andy’s main priority. Previously, he has named Donegan, Harrison, Keith Richards, Hank Marvin, Ry Cooder, Albert King, Leon Redbone, Jimmie Vaughan, Blind Blake, and Rev. Gary Davis as favorite 6-stringers. In the following interview, he reveals his biggest 6-string influence, and exposes himself as an unrepentant guitar junkie.
You cut a number one blues album.
Two years ago I did an album, Flang Dang, where I played everything except the drums, and that to me was my full stop. I took a third of my pension out to make that album. Got no result whatsoever, so I figured I’m just going to enjoy playing live. Then Malcolm Mills, the head of Last Music Company, said, “People don’t know enough about your blues playing. We should do an album and call it The Invisible Bluesman.” On “My Baby Left Me,” obviously there’s a big tip of the hat to Robert Johnson—sort of “Kind Hearted Woman.” This is the strangest feeling. I’ve been sort of throwing about in the water, playing these songs for 20 years. All of a sudden I’m number one.
What is the old Gibson on the cover?
That is J.J. Cale’s guitar [a 1929 L-5] that he gave to Eric. I’m doing the B.B. King pose, from the old picture with his foot on a stool. I asked Eric if I could borrow that guitar, and he said, “Of course you can.” I loved J.J.’s Shelter records in the ’70s. Such an exciting time. He was in a box all his own.
Fairweather Low patched this guitar with gaffer’s tape when it fell before a gig, then he got it repaired. While it no longer has a crack, he applied the tape again after he discovered it makes the instrument sound darker.
Andy Fairweather Low’s Gear
Guitars
- 1929 Gibson L-5 (borrowed from Eric Clapton; previously owned by J.J. Cale)
- Knight Arena
- Three Eric Clapton Signature Strats with custom pickup arrays
- Black Strat w/one humbucker (rear)
- Knight Arena single-cutaway
- Supro Ozark with a lap-steel pickup
- Teisco Spectrum 5
- Vox Phantom w/gold-foil pickups (neck and middle) and a P-90 (bridge)
- Red Strat w/three humbuckers and parts from an
- Two Airline Res-O-Glas models
- Silverstone electric w/three pickups
- Guild S-200
- Danelectro bass
- Danelectro baritone
- Gibson Chet Atkins CE
- Ramirez classical
- Black Gibson L-5
- Martin Eric Clapton Signature Model OOO
Amps
- Cornell
- 2x10 cab w/Jensen speakers
Strings
- Flat wounds
How did you decide which guitar you were going to play on which song?
On “Bright Lights, Big City” and “Gin House Blues,” I have to play the Strat with the humbucker. I’ve got a white one and a black one. On “So Glad You’re Mine,” another Big Boy Crudup song that Elvis did, I played a Knight Arena guitar. It’s made by a father and son, Gordon and Robert Wells, and it’s fabulous. When I play “Gin House,” its wire-wound strings on the Strat, but everything else is flat-wounds.
You were 15 when you saw the Rolling Stones in Cardiff.
February 28, 1964. Bill Wyman’s coffee table book has the dates and set lists. It wasn’t like a great big hand came down or finger pointing in any direction. It just seeped through the air, like a virus, and all of a sudden I wanted to play guitar. Their version of “Route 66” was the first guitar solo I learned note for note.
Did you go specifically to see them?
They were just on the bill. Also on the bill was Jet Harris, who was with Shadows’ bassist. Mike Sarne and Billie Davis were top of the bill, and there was Bern Elliott & the Fenmen. The Stones started with “I’m Talking About You.” It never leaves you. The first time I saw the Who play, in 1965, or the Stones again, in ’66, playing with Inez and Charlie Foxx… those moments. I saw Sam & Dave, Arthur Conley, Eddie Floyd, and Otis Redding at Finsbury Park, on the [1967] Stax tour. People like Booker T. & the MG’s were so far away. Come to think of it, they’re still that far away. I talk a lot about early guitarists, and in truth it’s got to be Steve Cropper. He’s got the biggest depth in what I do. “Don’t Mess With Cupid,” “Ninety-Nine and a Half,” “Soul Dressing,” “Bootleg”—there’s loads of them. And definitely his rhythm playing on the Wilson Pickett version of “Don’t Fight It.” He was perfect.
What was the Amen Corner tour like with the Jimi Hendrix Experience, the Move, Pink Floyd, and the Nice?
Onstage, I say, “I played with Jimi Hendrix”—and I did. Then I follow it with, “I played very badly with him.” He sidled over to me at 3 in the morning and told me, “You’re in the wrong key.”
“Jimi, I don’t have a clue what key you’re in.”
This was 1967. He wanted to play with Amen Corner, doing “I Can’t Turn You Loose.” We were just a very young soul band at the time. So he borrowed Clive Taylor’s bass, flipped it over, and I sang it.
A couple of months later, we had a residency at a club, and he decided he wanted to get up and play guitar. He took Neil Jones’ guitar, and [hums muted opening to “Voodoo Child”]. I knew Clive wasn’t going to be able to play, so I played bass. I moved around the neck a lot, figuring at some point I’m going to hit the appropriate key. Don’t write in telling me it’s in E; I know that—or Eb if it was on Jimi’s guitar.
Fairweather Low has his Vox Phantom rigged with two gold-foil pickups and a P-90.
U.K. charts were different from American charts. Amen Corner’s “Gin House” was No. 3 in 1967, and “Albatross” by Fleetwood Mac was No. 1 in 1968.
It was pretty wide and varied. When we did the 1967 Windsor Jazz & Blues Festival, it was the first time Fleetwood Mac played. At one point, we were the highest paid act. We got rumors of this band Fleetwood Mac getting paid nearly as much as us. We thought, “That can’t be happening. They’re not on the charts.” But “Albatross”—what a record! I got to play that at the Peter Green memorial show at the Palladium, with David Gilmour on steel. Rick Vito was fabulous. He was definitely the most valuable player in that whole setup. I told [producer] Glyn Johns, “You’ve got to get him.” If anybody needed to be anybody who wasn’t there, he was it.
Glyn Johns produced the Joe Satriani album you’re on.
The big connection is Glyn. That was an interesting time. When Joe was interviewed, the first question they asked was, “Why Andy Fairweather Low?” Which is the first thing I’d ask. I can’t think as fast as he can play. But I had a few tonal things. His demos were so good, like “Luminous Flesh Giants.” He was very gracious to me. Joe had previously produced everything he’d done, and wasn’t used to this setup. Every day he’d make a beeline for me and show me what to play. “Use this finger, don’t use that finger.” By the time we got to 7 p.m., I had a headache. Then Glyn would say, “Joe, the reason these boys are here . . . why don’t you just let them play?” Then we’d play, and we’d get the track. The next day it was the same thing. I think Joe was struggling with letting go of the reins, allowing himself to go down this road. I’m glad. I had a great time.
I played a Supro Ozark with a lap steel pickup on one track. I sold it and a couple of other guitars. I was going to sell a bunch of them. When the guy came back and kept offering more for my black L-5, I went, “I’m done.” Not selling any more. I didn’t realize the attachment that I would have for those things.
You’ve got some oddball guitars.
Because I saw video of Ry Cooder at Sweetwater, playing a Teisco Spectrum 5, I eventually got one. He makes it sound like a bloody piano! The thing about Ry Cooder—whether it’s Gabby Pahinui, the Buena Vista Social Club, or that Jazz album—whatever you think of him, it’s the tip of the iceberg. You’re not even getting one-eighth of what’s below. On the Mambo Sinuendo album, with Cuban guitarist Manuel Galbán, there’s a version of “Secret Love.” The tone on his guitar!
There was a benefit concert for a fabulous guy called Fred Walecki, who had Westwood Music in L.A., and I was onstage with Ry. Definitely other side of the stage, because there are a few guitarists who don’t need another guitar player. Ry is one, Jeff Beck’s another one, and Pete Townshend is. I found out when I played with the Who. Pete wasn’t there because he was cleaning out in America. For three weeks with Kenney, John, and Roger, I sort of filled in, just to be a guitar player in the room. Then Pete came back, and we went through the first day of playing together. What anyone will realize is that when Pete plays an A chord, there’s nobody in the world that can make it any bigger. There was no point in playing when he was playing. I went into the control room and told him, “I think I’ll go off and play some tennis.” I did his Psychoderelict tour in 1993. Tricky, but fond memories of that.“I played with Jimi Hendrix. I played very badly with him.”
What’s going on with the Vox Phantom with gold-foil pickups?
I was doing this concert in Santa Monica for Fred Walecki, who had throat cancer. Ry had a guitar with those pickups, and said he got them from Fred. The next day I went to Fred, who only had two: $15 each. They’re now in the neck and middle on that Vox, and there’s a P-90 in the bridge position. I play “Pipeline” on it, for that ’60s tone.
I got an Airline, known as the J.B. Hutto model, for $750. But I struggled to make it work, intonation-wise. Gordon and Robert [Wells], who made my Knight guitar, took all the electronics out of that and put them into a pink Strat, with all the knobs. But I’m a one-tone man. Everything up, one position, leave it. On the J.J. Cale song “Can’t Let You Do It” from Eric’s I Still Do album, I’m playing that Strat with the Airline parts.
Much to his surprise, Fairweather Low’s new album hit the top of the U.K. blues and jazz chart, despite being a low-key, off-the-cuff affair in the studio.
In terms of session work, did you ever get thrown any curve balls?
Two times. I was doing something with Glyn at Olympic Studios, and in the other studio was Georgie Fame with a big band. He said, “Why don’t you come in and do the session?” It was, “Alright, fellas, letter B four bars in….” All I did was look at the other guitar player, Bernie Allen, and watch what he did. I realized I was way out of my depth. I got through it, but only because I watched him.
The next time, working with Glyn again, it was with Linda Ronstadt. We finished the album on Friday, and she was going in on Monday with George Massenburg to do something with Aaron Neville. She asked if I’d stick around and do something. I said, “Yeah, let me see what you’re going to do.” The first song I could get my head around, “Please Remember Me”—only playing rhythm. The second one was a Jimmy Webb song, where no chord was ever any chord that I had any idea existed. If it was a D, it had an F#; if it was C, it had an E. I spent the whole weekend trying to make my sense of these chords. We get into the studio, and I’m in the booth strumming away on “Please Remember Me.” Then I’m wondering what we’re going to do now. Before I could raise my hand and say, “I’ve got to tell you, I can’t do this,” they said, “You know what? We’re not going to do that song.” [laughs] But I was right on the edge, in front of everybody, gonna have to go, “It’s too much for me.”
“You can be the greatest musician in the world, but if you’re a pain in the ass on the gig, you won’t last.”
How did you end up backing George Harrison, and playing slide?
Roger Forrester, who was Eric’s manager, called and said, “George is going to Japan; Eric’s band is going to back him, and George wants you to do all the intricate slide parts.” “Okay, I’ll think about it.” I put the phone down and realized I don’t play slide. I had met George backstage at a Ry Cooder show; he must have assumed I was into slide playing. Things were not going great financially, and this was a life-changing moment. So I had to make a decision. I either turn up, and they all realize I can’t do it, or I own up now and risk losing the gig.
I asked Roger for George’s number, and I rang him up. I said, “I know this tour’s coming up, and you want me to do the slide parts, but I don’t play slide. I mean, if you tell me what you want me to do, I know the principles and all that, but I can never seem to make it sing.” He said, “I’ve never heard you play, but everybody seems to like you. Why don’t you just come up to the house?” I turn up at Friar Park with my Volkswagen Polo, and he comes out to meet me and looks at my car … because George is a big car guy. He goes, “Do you have to drive that?” [laughs] We got on really well, lots of jokes. Living in the Material World I knew inside and out. My bass playing is based on Klaus Voormann on that album, so melodic. George said, “Let’s do something.” “Material World,” I knew it; I could sing the slide solo. Little did I know I was going to have to learn that thing; plus I had to play “My Sweet Lord.”
“You do the intro.”
“No, George, you’re the slide player.”
So I had to wear this intro that everybody knows, and you better play it right. It’s a bit like the front of “Layla,” which I might have to play as well. We were doing “My Sweet Lord” one night in Japan and I forgot to press the pedal that makes the guitar audible. There was a towel on top of my amp, and I just put it on my head. One of those rock & roll moments.
Andy Fairweather Low is a legend of the British stage and studio, having played with Eric Clapton, Pete Townshend, David Gilmour, and a host of other 6-string greats.
George’s slide style is so distinctive. But there are videos of that tour, and you nailed his sound really well.
Thank you. At the Concert For George, it was a Friday, and Joe Brown was going to do “That’s the Way It Goes.” Typical of Eric, he said, “Andy’ll do it.” I think the show was on Tuesday or something. I got away with it, but I didn’t sleep. George’s solos, you have to know them before you even play them. It’s as simple as that. In fact, that applies to Robert Johnson or whatever you’re learning. When I’d finished “That’s the Way It Goes,” Eric comes onstage and says, “You’re sweating a bit.” I said, “I am, for goodness sake. You should have done this.”
Didn’t George play slide melodies up and down the length of the string, rather than across?
Which I did. I got to play Rocky [Harrison’s psychedelic painted Strat], the 6-string bass that’s on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and his [Fender] 12-string on Concert For George. Olivia Harrison allowed Rocky to be played on the rehearsals and the concert, but it had to go back to Friar Park every night.
What’s the big archtop you’re playing on Eric Clapton’s Unplugged?
It’s a Super 300 that Alan Rogan lent to me. The Martin I played was Eric’s; best sounding Martin I ever played. The only guitar I owned was the one that’s on “Tears in Heaven”—a Ramirez classical that I still have.
“I played with the Big Town Playboys for about 16 months. We did a tour of Europe, got back from Germany, and they gave me my check. Thirteen pounds [laughs]. It was worth it, man, so exciting.”
Tell me about the Martin you play onstage that’s held together with gaffers tape.
That’s an Eric Signature Model OOO. We were opening up for him in Poland, and it fell out the back of the van, in its case. Got some gaffers tape and taped it back together, and when I played it that night everyone, including me, thought it sounded better. Back in England, I had it fixed, but I didn’t like it. So I put the tape back on. Eric likes a really bright guitar. Mine takes a bit of that top end off, so it’s warmer.
What’s your main amp?
It’s a Cornell based on the Fender Vibro-King. I started off with a Bandmaster, and moved on to the Bassman with four 10s, and then the Vibro-King with three 10s. Bit by bit, no matter how many times you replaced the valves, replaced the speakers, polished the circuits, they just got tired. They never sounded as good as the day you bought it. Denis Cornell came to a gig and said, “Show me what you want.” I turned up the Vibro-King to about 4, which was enough to sound dirty. He said, “Are you serious?” I said, “Yes, I want you to make me an inefficient amp.” Now I’m down to two 10s, which is basically a Tremolux cabinet. “TV Mama” on Lockdown Live [from 2021] starts with that growl. Get it out there. Frighten them!
After years of sideman gigs, you formed the Low Riders.
You can be the greatest musician in the world, but if you’re a pain in the ass on the gig, you won’t last. Everybody in the band gets along really well. It’s a cooperative. The roadie gets exactly the same as me. Because when the gig is over, I’m sitting down having a glass of wine; he’s packing away and driving us somewhere. He’s worth as much as I am.
I played with the Big Town Playboys for about 16 months. Ian Jennings and Mike Sanchez are top players. We did a tour of Europe, got back from Germany, and they gave me my check. Thirteen pounds [laughs]. It was worth it, man, so exciting. I’m proud of being in that band. I did a live double-album with them, Off the Clock.
I’m lucky. And I know it, too. I can’t see this round-peg of me fitting into any hole of anything that’s going on now. I’m glad I had my time when I did. I loved working with those people, but I quit touring because I just needed to play more.
