T-Bone Walker: Got
A Break, Baby 
(1942).
This is the very first recording T-Bone
made on electric guitar, and as such, I believe it is the first
(fretted) electric blues guitar solo ever recorded. What an incredible
starting point for our great tradition! T-Bone just pours out
one great idea after another, with clear authoritative melodic
lines, beautifully articulated trills and bends and classic bluesy
double-stops, a marvelous sense of swing, great syncopations with
phrases "turning over" against the beat in surprising ways, and
his matchless control of dynamics. He also of course anticipates
Chuck Berry with those two-note bends and the classic syncopated
5th-swung-against-itself lick that would become a Chuck trademark.
Fabulous performance!
Billy Butler, lead guitar, on: Bill Doggett: Honky Tonk
(1956). Other than Chuck Berry's licks on "Johnny B. Goode,"
I think this beautiful, subtle, jazzy, flowing masterpiece is
the most-imitated guitar solo in the whole blues tradition --
I've heard lots of great, famous blues men play it note-for-note
on stage, as if to prove they could cover Billy Butler's licks,
some of which are trickier than they sound, others of which
(like the first two bars of chorus 2) are not technically difficult
but are amazing in their inventiveness and elegance. Billy makes
it all sound so relaxed and effortless! This solo defines what
I mean about solos with compositional strength, melodic integrity,
a complete statement. I gave you the whole performance here
(issued as "Part 1" and "Part 2" on record), so you could hear
the great, hellishly syncopated lick he plays (bars 5-8) when
he re-enters for the tune's very last chorus.
Scotty Moore, lead guitar, on Elvis Presley: Hound Dog
(1956). Scotty's playing with Elvis has two distinct phases.
On the early Sun recordings, when the band was very small and
he needed to fill more space, he often played a Merle Travis-based
fingerpicking bag, laying down a body of gorgeous (and much-copied)
licks and fills that helped define rockabilly as a style for
all time. Then when El moved to RCA and recorded with bigger,
louder groups, Scotty switched over to a T-Bone-inflected lead-line
style at which he proved equally adept and exciting. Maybe for
their sheer influence I should have included a Sun side here,
but I chose to go with "Hound Dog" for its utter drive and wild
excitement, and for the way Scotty moves like a flash from the
growly low-string licks into the bright, cutting upper-register
stuff.
Chuck Berry: Carol
(1958). Chuck is certainly one of the most influential guitarists
of all time... I'll have much more to say about him in an upcoming
feature. This is another case where I could have chosen the
better-known, and more copied, solo -- "Johnny B. Goode," of
course -- but went with this variation on the same themes because,
although "Johnny" has more sheer drive and a hotter guitar sound,
Chuck's work on "Carol" is more varied and inventive. Favorite
aspects of this wonderful performance: the marvelous blues fills
after every line of (especially) verse 1 -- notice that they're
mainly single-note lines in spite of how much we associate Chuck
with the double-stop sound; also the way he picks up his great,
ascending IV-chord fill from the verse and uses it again in
the solo; the long, surprising, descending parallel-thirds line
late in the solo; the fact that the intro lick is integrated
into the song structure itself... And then of course there's
the phrasing on the two-string bend (just before the vocal)
-- a point over which Chuck and Keith Richards nearly came to
blows! in a scene from the great Taylor Hackford documentary
film, Chuck Berry: Hail, Hail Rock and Roll!
James Burton, lead guitar, on Dale Hawkins: Suzie Q (1957).
James Burton's is a name known only to connoisseurs, but he
has expanded and helped redefine the sound of the electric guitar
at least three times in his career: in the mid-to-late sixties
as a principal architect of the "Bakersfield" Telecaster sound
which is the basis of country lead as it's played today; in
his late '50s-early '60s work with Ricky Nelson which brilliantly
integrated Scotty Moore's and Chuck Berry's concepts with country
and pop vocabulary and pioneering uses of whole-note bends on
lighter strings; and also, back in '57, by simply creating this
one incredible, enormously influential record. (All these phases
of Burton's career will be examined in more depth in a forthcoming
essay... watch this Website!) These definitive "E7" theme licks
have kept finding their way into one great rock and country
hit after another, down through the years. Despite the bogus
composer credit, this tune originated as a Burton guitar instrumental,
to which Dale Hawkins later added lyrics when their band got
a chance to record. The classic "theme" chorus would be reason
enough to include this record, but we also get 2 more fine solos
later, both of which feature fiercely-syncopated IV-chord figures
closely related to that final chorus of Butler's in "Honky Tonk."
James Burton, lead guitar, on Ricky Nelson: Just A Little
Too Much (1959). Burton's unique combination of guitar skills
and sounds was a heaven-sent match for the special blend of
rockabilly and Brill Building pop which Johnny and Dorsey Burnette
cooked up in the songs they were writing for Ricky. It's tough
to pick just one of the many blazing little masterpieces James
dropped into those records, but I chose this lesser known tune
for its startling, dancing uses of fretted notes bouncing off
open strings, and for its combination of tough blues feeling
with high-spirited, even humorous, rock'n'roll drive. Can you
hear him working both the high and low open E strings? Note
also the classic Burton construction at the tail end of the
solo: the high, climactic licks conclude, and are then followed
by a surprising, tasty (and perfectly rounded off) "afterthought"
flourish to finish up... he pulls this off again and again,
and it just slays me every time.
Snooks Eaglin: Yours
Truly (1960). Snooks has been playing phenomenal guitar
and singing beautiful, soulful R&B in New Orleans since the
early '50s, and he's just as hot today as he ever was. Check
out his latest album, Soul's Edge (Blacktop 1112) -- he's on
fire! But this incredible solo from back in '59, you just gotta
check out... so light and flowing and fast and funky -- it just
grabs everyone who hears it.
Lonnie Mack: Memphis
(1963). Lonnie alternates here between a snappy "Suzie Q"-like
12-bar blues theme of his own, and the chord changes to Chuck
Berry's great song "Memphis," phrased in the sliding 6th-to-9th
chord voicings that I believe were first introduced by Charles
Brown's original guitar player, Johnny Moore. Chuck didn't play
these voicings in his own record of "Memphis"; they do appear
on the Johnny Rivers hit cover of the tune, also from '63 --
I'm not sure whether Rivers copped the idea from Lonnie or vice
versa. Either way this is a marvelous record, cooking and concise.
And dig how Lonnie cuts loose and wails on the second, higher
round of his blues chorus, pushing the bent root note against
the fretted version, pouring out his ideas smoothly at top speed,
and shivering those high sustains like a banshee! Very few cats
could play this way back in '63!
Freddy King: Remington
Ride (1963). Some of
the characteristic trademark moves of Freddy's many great King/Federal
instrumental tunes (discussed in my essay on him, this Website) do not occur
in this amazing performance. He doesn't use low-string themes
here, to name just one obvious example, and the tune is much
less structured than most of his others. But it's by far the
longest of his instrumentals, and it's so wonderful to hear
him just wail on freely for chorus after chorus, I had to include
it. The form of the tune itself, with its slightly offbeat chord
changes, is another strong point; Freddy's copping the piece
from Herb Remington, the Western Swing steel guitarist -- one
of many fascinating examples of blues/country cross-pollination.
Rudy Richard (probable), lead guitar on Slim Harpo: We're
Two of a Kind (1964). This solo, and the following one,
are studies in the power of the repeated use of the move I call
"the strongest note on the guitar" -- the whole-step bend to
the tonic (which is then sustained and often vibratoed). Notice
how beautifully Rudy Richard (presuming it's him; session data
for these great old Excello sides is a little sketchy) plays
the song, phrasing his thoughts like the lyric but still making
each phrase a beautiful piece of ringing, singing guitar tone
-- and then driving home all the deep emotion of the blues as
he picks up the intensity towards the end.
Little Milton: Feel
So Bad (1966). You'd be hard put to find a blues record
with any more sheer soul, sheer feeling and emotional power,
in both its vocal and lead guitar work. This performance has
been a primary inspiration to me for thirty years, and it still
surprises me and hits me hard today. There's nothing too complex
or technically difficult about the notes and phrases Milton
plays here -- but the exact way he places and attacks them is
utterly masterful, he just tears right into your heart. And
what a singer! If you don't believe this one, man, you won't
believe nothin'! I love that funky, soul-inflected bass groove
too.
Jimi Hendrix: Little
Wing (1967). This is Jimi in one of my very favorite bags,
the soft-soul trills-and-slides style that Curtis Mayfield pioneered
for us all in his early-'60s classics with the Impressions ("People
Get Ready" etc. etc.). Hendrix clearly loved this style, and
a lot of his most open, emotional playing and singing comes
out in tunes like this. Really the "solo" for which I selected
this cut is the magnificent opening passage on which he is playing
completely solo -- but we get a wonderful later one as well,
including that grand, powerful high theme line, and (check this
out!) his startling use of a classic country lead guitar lick
-- the Burton-esque pedal-steel-style bend figure -- on the
G-to-F chord section (bar 7)... proving (as if we didn't know)
that Jimi's ears were wide open to every form of soulful music.
Jimi Hendrix: All
Along the Watchtower (1968). Bob Dylan was a huge influence
and inspiration for Hendrix, and this masterpiece pays the best
kind of tribute Bob could possibly have asked. One of the greatest
things about this solo is of course its sense of structure,
the way each distinct section introduces a whole new set of
ideas that follow perfectly after what's gone before. The individual
themes are so perfectly shaped and sculpted -- instantly hummable
melodies. And I love how Jimi's trademark same-note-simultaneously-on-two-strings
high lines, here picked tremolo style, evoke the howling wind
of Bob's sparse, spooky lyric.
Jeff "Skunk" Baxter, lead guitar, with Steely Dan: My Old
School (1972). There are many great guitar solos throughout
the Steely Dan canon, many superb guitarists to thank for them,
many cool stories about how those solos came to be played under
the exacting producers' eyes of mysterioso perfectionists Donald
Fagen and Walter Becker. But no one ever topped the fire, variety,
and endless inventiveness that Skunk Baxter poured into every
line of his two solos on this great song. He moves from clean
sweet-soul melody riffs, to bluesy Hendrix-style rock cries,
to jazz octaves, Bakersfield twang licks, Robertson-esque harmonic
tweaks and more, in the blink of an eye -- every phrase dancing
and perfectly placed, the mood at once wry and passionate like
the song itself. The way his licks at the end are bouncing off
the piano and horn figures is some sort of collective genius,
and as the song fades out you'd swear they're going to romp
on for minutes more of this wonderful stuff.
David Spinozza, lead guitar, on Dr. John: Right
Place Wrong Time (1972). Mac Rebennack (Dr. John) says they
recorded this classic track with the solo left open, thinking
to overdub a sax later... then someone suggested a guitar, David
Spinozza happened to be around, he took a shot and fired this
gem off on the very first take! It's amazing how perfectly he
matches the rising surge of energy in the rhythm track (laid
down by New Orleans' incomparable Meters, with the great Leo
Nocentelli scratchin' out the ultra-hip rhythm guitar lick).
Spinozza starts with a few sparse, sinister warning phrases;
then almost before you realize it, the track has turned a big
corner through the II-V change, he's ridden right up with it,
and suddenly he's screamin' out those Albert King/Jimi Hendrix
blues bends. Then just as suddenly, a rapid-fire descending
line, and he's gone! Pure excitement.
Robbie Robertson, lead guitar, with The Band: Back to Memphis
(1973). It's become almost a clich? of writers discussing
the Band, to cite Robertson's super-spare, dry, crackling solo
at the end of the classic "King Harvest" as his all-time guitar
masterpiece. Of course I love that solo too, but he's recorded
many equally great ones throughout his career, and I wanted
to showcase some other, perhaps less known, sides of his playing,
as displayed in this good-time rock'n'roll rave-up number from
the Band's set at Watkins Glen. This song, a 24-bar blues in
form, is actually a quite obscure Chuck Berry number, but Robbie
plays totally his own bag of tricks here, with very little reference
to Chuck's style. His use of open strings as he moves up the
neck (see bars 5-6 of his first chorus; also first 4 bars of
chorus 2, etc. etc.) is phenomenal; so is the way he keeps a
dramatic high-tonic drone note ringing against his melody line
in bars 5-8 of chorus 2; and I laughed out loud at the way he
slips that snarly low-string lick (almost a "Suzie Q" quote!)
into the final V chord of this break. More on Robertson below.
Albert Lee, lead guitar, on Dave Edmunds: Sweet Little Lisa
(1979). This barn-burner takes the Bakersfield Telecaster
vocabulary -- the stutter-bend-and-twang, throw-in-imitation-pedal-steel-tricks,
idiom -- to a wild new level of excitement. It's a non-stop
thrill ride of rapid-fire hot licks -- but in each wild chorus,
Albert manages to pull his melody line back onto the road at
the last minute, for a satisfying conclusion that proves he
knows exactly where he is and what he's doing the whole time.
Steve Ray Vaughan, lead guitar, on Bennie Wallace: All Night
Dance (1986). I wanted to bring the focus a little closer
to the present on my last couple of tunes, and I thought this
number would be a treat for Stevie Ray fans who haven't caught
his guest appearance on this presently-unavailable album by
jazz sax man Wallace. I love hearing Vaughan work with a larger,
richer-sounding band instead of his more usual trio format,
and I think maybe it inspired his performance as well. He sure
sounds great framed by those rich horns and Dr. John's magnificent
piano work. The tune actually sort of hearkens back to "Honky
Tonk" (above), with Stevie showing off some unusual jazzy voicings
and smooth tremolo picking just as Billy Butler did on the Doggett
piece. His control of the tremolo technique at that speed is
amazing, and he blazes along from one great idea to another
-- Texas-school syncopations, fresh uses of fifths and sixths,
classic aching single-note blues lines -- all with flawless
transitions, superb internal logic, and, of course, tons of
authentic blues feeling.
Robbie Robertson: Slo
Burn (1994? recorded earlier?). Of course Robertson's widely
acclaimed for some of his classic songwriting, and for his songwriter-storyteller
role and overall vibe of artistic integrity; and yes, he's vaguely
recognized as a good, tasty lead guitarist too. I'm going to
go much further out on a limb in assessing him as a player!
It's my opinion that he stands in a class with Hendrix, and
only Hendrix, as the most innovative, diverse, complex, distinctive,
and powerful guitar voice of his era. He's played definitively
beautiful solos and color parts in an amazingly wide range of
styles and idioms; his timing, as both lead and support player,
is fantastic; his uses of open-string and drone techniques,
"harmonics" licks, tremolo picking and volume-swell tone effects
are utterly personal, imaginative and unique. The different
historical periods of his work -- with Ronnie Hawkins, with
Dylan, several distinct phases with the Band, and his solo and
soundtrack work of the last 16 years -- are each distinctive
and deserve serious examination; yet at this same time his personal
voice is unmistakable at every stage. He's been a rebel and
innovator on the instrument right from the start, and continues
to break new ground today, as this moody, moaning, instrumental
piece from a 1994 film score bears witness. And of course, through
all his evolutions and technical innovations, the essence of
his playing has always been the pure, searing emotion he wrings
from his strings. "Slo Burn," like all of his best work, fascinates
me as a guitarist -- but utterly haunts and transports me as
a listener.
