Rubber City Review

Cleveland. Where DJ Alan Freed first coined the phrase “rock ‘n roll” and hosted the form’s coming-out party, the infamous Moondog Coronation Ball in 1952. City that launched the careers of David Bowie and Bruce Springsteen. Home of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum. So it makes perfect sense that the city’s one or two remaining rock radio stations have been eclipsed by country (and sports talk, of course).

I bring this up only because of an experiment I recently conducted in my car, which has an iPod adapter that works about three months out of the year. Following its most recent failure, I decided to listen to nothing but mainstream country radio for a week or so. Partly to figure out why contemporary country artists like Rascal Flatts, Taylor Swift and Toby Keith are so damn popular. And partly because I’m a glutton for punishment.

When it comes to country music, I’m more of a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Give me Senior, not Junior. Love Merle Haggard, Buck Owens and George Jones. And if I have to listen to contemporary stuff, I usually migrate toward the alternative end of the scale, where artists like Dwight Yoakam, Gillian Welch, Steve Earle and Rosanne Cash ply their trade.

To my ears, much of contemporary country sounds like poorly disguised power ballads from the ‘80s – or even worse, a perfectly generic strain of southern boogie rock. In fact, the glossy sound of modern country music (processed drums, tricked-up guitars, etc.) makes it virtually indistinguishable from ‘80s rock. But I went into this with an open mind. I decided to make every effort to find something, anything, I might like about America’s number one music format. And I’m pleased to say I didn’t come back empty-handed (although I’d like to finish my time on earth without ever again hearing the term “badonkadonk”).

After hours of intensive research, I was able to identify several key ingredients you can find in many country hits.

First of all, modern country owes a huge debt to two major figures who never graced the stage at the Grand Old Opry: Keith Richards and Jack Daniel. Richards is noteworthy for inventing the opening riff to Honky Tonk Women – and various mutations of that riff are used to kick off the vast majority of “rockin’ country” hits. At least it seems that way. And Daniel because references to hard whiskey are far more prevalent today in country music than they were back in the ‘50s, when country stars actually drank whiskey and the term “personal trainer” could only apply to a horse.

Back to Richards… Here’s a nod to Keith from his Aussie namesake (and reformed alcoholic) Keith Urban, who ain’t no slouch on guitar but could afford to learn a few new tricks: You Look Good In My Shirt/Keith Urban

And here’s a tune by another famous Keith (Toby… see, I’m really onto something here) that also seems like a sanitized tribute to the Stones’ greatest hit: Beer For My Horses/Toby Keith with Willie Nelson

That little tribute to vigilante justice includes guest artist Willie Nelson – who, ironically, would be doing hard time if he and his fellow weed wranglers ever got stuck in Indonesia.

Another common denominator in modern country is this strange infatuation with a guy more closely associated with sailboats and parrots than guns and pickup trucks: Jimmy Buffett. I’ll just come out and say it… Every male country star wants to reinvent himself as the next Jimmy Buffett. Why? Three simple reasons. First, it would put them in the same financial zip code as Jimmy and his brother from another mother, Warren Buffett. Second, they won’t have to work nearly as hard in concert. And third, they can spend most of their free time sailing from one Caribbean island to another rather than dodging fans and floods in Nashville.

Of course, the frontrunner in the Buffett.2 sweepstakes is Kenny Chesney. Hell, Chesney isn’t the least bit coy about his strategy – he even records with the guy (then again, so does most of Nashville). Now I listened to Chesney’s new album all the way through. And I have to admit, “Hemingway’s Whiskey” ain’t too bad, especially from a guy who’s spent the last few years chasing parrotheads. Nice duet with Grace Potter. Strong lyrics. A few unexpected twists and turns throughout. But he still can’t resist the temptation to go coastal now and then: Coastal/Kenny Chesney

I’ve also noticed that far too many country hits sound like they were written with a Random Buzzword Generator programmed by a guy named Cletus. Let’s look at just a short list of terms that crop up often in modern country: boots, cut-off jeans, cold beer, whiskey, sweet tea, old back road, old dirt road, jeep, truck, tractor, four-wheel drive, six pack, dog, porch, Tennessee, Alabama, Georgia, small town, red, white, blue, blacktop, dancefloor, Hank, Willie, Waylon, Skynyrd, Friday/Saturday night, Sunday morning… Now let’s hit the RBG and see what pops up:

I’m drivin’ down an old dirt road
Blastin’ Hank in my pickup truck
Just slipped it into four-wheel drive
So I can plow right through this muck

My gal’s in her cut-off jeans
It’s a small-town Saturday night
Not in Georgia but in Tennessee
Where the whiskey tastes just right

When Sunday morning comes around
I’ll drive my tractor into town
We’ll praise the Lord and the Red White & Blue
Then rock some Skynyrd ’til the sun goes down

Needs a chorus, but you get the picture.

One song by newcomer Brantley Gilbert, Country Must Be Country Wide, even includes this amazing claim: “In every state there’s a station playin’ Cash, Hank, Willie, and Waylon.” Safe to say you’ll be driving for days before you hear Hank Sr. or even Waylon Jennings on the radio.

So what did I like about modern country, you ask? Well, let me see… Mostly I liked the women, who tend to leave the tired riffs and hackneyed slogans to the men. For example, if you’ve ever had a teenage daughter, you can certainly appreciate this song by Martina McBride: Teenage Daughters/Martina McBride

And I’m not going to go hatin’ on Taylor Swift (mainly because I don’t want to show up in her next song). Unlike a lot of her contemporaries, she doesn’t seem too interested in Nashville convention. I like to think of her as a countrified (as opposed to country-fried… big difference) Alanis Morissette – she’s sort of an angry young woman, but still a little too polite to tell someone to go pound sand up his ass: Mean/Taylor Swift

Then there’s Miranda Lambert… Who in his right mind would mess with this woman? I guess that would be her husband, Blake Shelton, but maybe he’s just not smart enough to know what he got himself into. Tunes like the next one and Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood are part of an interesting little sub-genre of country music that I like to call the “you messed with me one too many times you pathetic unlucky son of a bitch” song: Gunpowder & Lead/Miranda Lambert

Getting back to the men, it’s hard not to like Brad Paisley. Sure, he lacks restraint and sometimes good taste on guitar. But at least he’s not afraid of twang, which is something most country artists tend to avoid like the Democratic Party (interesting that Paisley and Tim McGraw buck that trend too): She’s Her Own Woman/Brad Paisley

Finally, there’s that whole Rascall Flatts thing. Surely there’s something about these guys I can latch onto. Anything. Let’s start with the fact that the singer is refreshingly homely. And he doesn’t wear a cowboy hat. Now let’s take a look at the music…

Take me back to the Eighties, when an exciting new breed of honky tonkers came up with the perfect antidote to bad rock. “Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc.” by Dwight Yoakam, “Storms of Life” by Randy Travis, “King’s Record Shop” by Rosanne Cash, “Guitar Town” by Steve Earle… The whole “cowpunk” thing was happening too – but bands like Green on Red and The Long Ryders weren’t allowed to play in the same sandbox as Dwight’s guitarist Pete Anderson:

Now this is country music – The Beatles’ favorite honky tonk band: Buck Owens and His Buckaroos (with Dangerous Don Rich on guitar and tenor harmony) on the Jimmy Dean Show, 1966. Stick around for Tom Brumley’s pedal steel bit at the end of the band introductions… 20 seconds of pure country goodness:

What kind of town do you live in, musically speaking? Is it classic rock, country, jazz, polka, Tuvan throat-singing? I’m not referring to the kind of music you hear on the radio. I’m talking about the songs that seem to make the most sense when you’re driving around town; that make you think, yeah, this sound starts to get at the heart of what this place is all about.

I, of course, live in Akron – a city that’s incredibly easy to live in, but over the last couple of years has taken on a little bit of the “suck factor.” Don’t get me wrong, I love it when we get a rare visitor or two and I can upend their perceptions of my hometown as a 60-square-mile Superfund site. I live about five miles from a national park… we have no traffic to speak of… and all of our self-inflicted environmental calamities are well behind us.

I remember when my friend Andy came to visit from NYC on one of those spectacular fall afternoons that turn my tree-lined street into an orgy of color. I interrupted our catch-up talk to fly down the road on a two-seat bike and pick up my daughter, who was walking home from school. When I came back, the blimp was hovering over our house. Of course, that never happened again and the weather went south right after Andy and his wife left town.

Beyond the occasionally dicey weather, the minus column includes a few more recent entries. Despite what some financial experts are saying, the economy has yet to turn the corner… The Black Keys have made Nashville their new home base… and the Cleveland sports scene has hit rock bottom. I’m beginning to think that professional sports teams should only exist in the four or five metropolitan areas big enough to support them. Cities like New York, Chicago and L.A. would have dozens of football teams that you’d watch on television, using some sort of digital contraption to place your bets.

I’ll leave the sports musings to the experts, like Gary Benz. We’re here to talk about music, and I’ve decided that the most appropriate soundtrack for driving around Akron is stone-cold, tough-as-nails honky tonk music.

That might speak volumes about the parts of town I tend to cruise. It also might add some logic to the lure of Music City USA, which stole the hearts of Dan and Pat (a city seemingly at odds with their heavy rock swagger, but I can assure you Dan is a big fan of classic honky tonkers like Lefty Frizell, Buck Owens and Merle Haggard). But I think it has more to do with the thousands of folks from Kentucky, Tennessee and West Virginia who came to Akron to work in its massive rubber factories – and the kind of music they listened to in the small corner bars they called home.

So if you happen to live in the Rubber City, or plan on visiting America’s Newest Vacation Mecca anytime soon, I encourage you to slap these tunes on a CD and head down Kenmore Boulevard. You’ll quickly fall in love with the idea of a city that’s blissfully out of synch with the rest of the world.

Unlike our neighbors to the north, we’re a fairly hopeful lot here in Akron. When the Tribe drops six games in a row, we don’t start ranting about “The Curse of Rocky Colavito.” We just stop making the 30-mile drive to Progressive Field and head over to Canal Park, where you can watch the pros play and save a little cash too. On the political front, we have a few bad seeds, but none facing hard time in prison like virtually half of Cuyahoga County’s elected officials. We’re like the Buck Owens to Cleveland’s Johnny Paycheck – and some of us don’t even own guns. So when things start to look bad, we can just put a little more spring in our two-step with Buck and his Buckaroos: We’re Gonna Let The Good Times Roll/Buck Owens

But some problems are a little harder to ignore, like a bad housing market. And many of the stories behind those padlocked doors and sheriff’s auction signs can be pretty heartbreaking. I’m sure most of this hard luck has to do with a lost job or an investment gone awry. But a few can be traced back to a more basic form of heartbreak – that is, the final stop in a dead-end relationship. Nobody has driven down that cul de sac more often than George Jones. I don’t care if country music isn’t your thing. If you’re not moved by George’s Grand Tour of his empty house, then you have a small, black heart that’s barely beating. The Grand Tour/George Jones

For those older folks who are fortunate enough to sell their homes, the next stop is usually a trailer park in Florida. But a surprising number decide to ride it out in the Rubber City, where the relative lack of traffic makes it easier for octogenarians to navigate their sturdy land-yachts down the exact center of our streets. Then there are the characters all of us know who never make it to old age – who take Buck’s advice to the next level and decide to party their way into oblivion. No need to bother these folks with retirement plans or the value of investing in low-risk savings bonds. They’d rather blow it at the bar and leave beautiful memories. Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young/Faron Young

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the bold, spirited women of our town. Women who refuse to turn the other cheek and are willing to fight for what they believe is right. Women like my mom, who came here from the Deep South and left a long trail of busted-up Yankees in her wake. So if you’re one of those painted floozies hoping to come here to steal our men, think twice (or call first). Because you’re about to take a one-way trip to Fist City… Fist City/Loretta Lynn

As this song might suggest, towns throughout the Midwest are well-populated by folks who – how do I say this carefully? – have a certain penchant for sleeveless T-shirts, filterless cigarettes and instant lottery tickets. Oh what the hell… I’m talking about white trash. And no one has chronicled the lifestyle of the Appalachian transplant longer or more lovingly than Akron native David Allan Coe. He rode with the Outlaws motorcycle gang and did time in the Mansfield Reformatory, which later served as the backdrop for the movie The Shawshank Redemption. And he channeled those experiences through songs like The Ride, Take This Job and Shove It, and this next one, which seems to describe the parts of town where being “off the grid” is not a desired outcome. If That Ain’t Country/David Allan Coe

Of course, our city’s elders have decried the continued exodus of Akron’s best and brightest to other communities, mostly those that offer warmer climates. Then again, no one’s asking David Allan Coe to move back… but certainly the recent departure of Dan and Pat has left a void. I think there’s more than a little denial in all this hand-wringing. And I wonder how many of those same elders would stick around if someone handed them all the cash generated by The Black Keys’ latest album, “Brothers”? Even if you don’t have a pot to piss in (let me rephrase that: especially if you don’t…), it makes perfect sense to long for a life far away from where you live. And that’s true no matter what town you call home. It’s all about that age-old yearning for a new start, expressed by the protagonist of this Steve Earle song: Someday/Steve Earle

Truth be told, most people in this town are refreshingly free of attitude and live here because it’s a solid, stable place to raise their kids. They work hard all week, get a little over-served on Saturday nights and usually practice a form of religion that doesn’t involve snake handling. And they didn’t lose any sleep over LeBron’s “Decision.” So this last tune is for them. It’s a little gospel number by someone who wrestled with more than a few snakes during his 29 years, the Right Reverend Hank Williams: I’ll Have A New Body/Hank Williams

“Enjoy Akron” t-shirt courtesy of Rubber City Clothing.

Penn Says David Allan Coe is bat-shit crazy… This is good stuff – and who would’ve thought that Coe was a big influence on Penn & Teller’s act? There’s another funny clip on youtube of Penn talking about bringing Coe backstage at one of their Vegas shows.

I recently read that Jack White (White Stripes, Dead Weather, Raconteurs) produced a new album by rockabilly queen Wanda Jackson. Sounded like the perfect deal to me – love White and love Wanda. And judging by White’s inspired makeover of Loretta Lynn on 2004’s “Van Lear Rose,” I had every reason to believe that Wanda Jackson would come out of this with a whole new sense of purpose.

Well, that still might be the case… but it probably won’t have much to do with what I’ve heard so far from the White-Wanda collaboration.

The first “single” out of the chute (available on iTunes or on vinyl through White’s label Third Man Records) features two covers – Amy Winehouse’s You Know I’m No Good, and Shakin’ All Over by Sixties British rockers Johnny Kidd & The Pirates. The problem with the first is that it sounds a lot like Winehouse’s version, except without her amazingly expressive voice. And the second adds a fairly meaningless layer of horns on top of a classic rock riff that needs no help at all, thank you (the Who still owns the best remake of this song, from “Live at Leeds”).

Wanda sounds game on both cuts, but they don’t really play to her greatest strength as a vocalist – a primal sexuality with just enough purr to keep most men from running for the hills. I like to think of her as Howlin’ Wolf in drag, with a country twang.

If anything, White’s single sent me back (again) to one of the most enjoyable collections of music I own – “Queen of Rockabilly: The Very Best of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Years,” on Ace Records (UK import). It’s an embarrassment of riches… great sound, hot pickin’, cool covers of rock classics, and the unbridled pleasures of Wanda wailin’ into one of those big, tube-driven microphones.

Now, Wanda wasn’t an innovator in the same sense as Elvis or even the most dangerous rockabilly band on the planet at that time, the Johnny Burnette Trio. Her producer at Capitol Records, Ken Nelson, was known mainly for hit country singles, and he recorded Wanda at Capitol’s state-of-the-art studio in Los Angeles. So none of these songs had the same edge as the nastier stuff that came out of Sam Phillips’ studio in Memphis. But Nelson knew a great voice when he heard it – and his clean, uncluttered arrangements put the focus squarely on Wanda’s voice, just the way God and Elvis intended. Case in point… Let’s Have a Party

That cut was recorded with a mixed-race band from Arkansas called Bobby Poe & the Kats. And its dangerous attitude can be partially credited to Elvis Presley, who dated Wanda a few times when they toured together back in the mid-’50s. According to Wanda, Elvis schooled her on the blues and encouraged her to toughen up her sound by moving from country to rockabilly. Mission accomplished.

A native of Maud, Oklahoma, Wanda was raised on country music. Her father was an aspiring country singer who moved the family to Los Angeles in the ’40s, probably hoping to land a record deal with one of the city’s big labels, but eventually moved back east to Oklahoma City. His musical aspirations soon shifted to young Wanda, who won a talent contest in high school as well as the attention of country star Hank Thompson, who asked her to perform with his Brazos Valley Boys in 1954. She recorded a few singles on Capitol Records with Thompson’s band – You Can’t Have My Love reached number eight on the country charts – but certainly didn’t gain enough notoriety to make Kitty Wells nervous. Then Wanda met Elvis, signed with Capitol as a solo artist, and recorded 30-some tunes that were among the most prized possessions of rockabilly collectors around the world (until Ace Records spoiled the fun in 2000 by finally making all of them available in one place).

Wanda didn’t stick with rockabilly very long, though. After she recorded these classic sides, she drifted back to country music in 1965 and stayed there until the ’80s. This probably had as much to do with her newfound Christian faith as a realization that she simply couldn’t maintain a long career in music by shredding her vocal cords every time she stepped up to the mic.

Wanda’s ambivalence is especially apparent on this tune from 1956, which gave her a unique opportunity to have it both ways: I Gotta Know

One of the best songs on the collection is a pop-flavored number from 1961 called Funnel of Love. Here Wanda shows a little more reach with some nice vocal flourishes – and it’s surprising that such an alluring tune didn’t do better on the charts: Funnel of Love

One of the special charms of “Queen of Rockabilly” is the almost off-handed approach to some of these sessions. It seems like Nelson seldom had anything specific in mind, other than turning Wanda loose with some of the best session players in the business – including A-list guitarists like Joe Maphis, Buck Owens and, later, Roy Clark. Here’s some nifty work by Maphis on Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad: Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad

Nelson also had Wanda cover some of the era’s rock ‘n roll hits. Are they essential remakes of the originals? Not really – except maybe Wanda’s version of Brown-Eyed Handsome Man, which almost outdoes Chuck Berry’s original by switching genders for a little added sex appeal. And on a few tunes, Nelson couldn’t resist those syrupy vocal choruses that the musicians union must have required at virtually every recording session back in the early Sixties. But there’s something to admire on every song, whether it’s the “good girl gone bad” appeal of Wanda’s voice or the country soul of Roy Clark’s guitar.

Wanda eventually made her way back to rockabilly in the Eighties, fueled by the enthusiasm of roots-music fanatics in Europe and the lasting appeal of whacked-out numbers like Fujiyama Mama, which made her a minor sensation in Japan – even with its politically incorrect references to the atom bomb: Fujiyama Mama

Maybe I should lower my expectations about the White-Wanda project… Then again, maybe Ace Records did Wanda a disservice by putting all those great rockabilly sides on one CD. Why play with sparklers when you’ve got enough fireworks to light up the whole sky?

Wanda today

Wanda on video… Here’s Wanda rippin’ up Hard Headed Woman. Not sure who the guitar player is (Joe Maphis?), but he’s a sumbitch.

A fine-lookin’ Wanda covers a country tune by Webb Pierce:

Think of the greats in any musical genre, and you’re usually thinking of a signature sound that gives the artist a distinct presence or personality.

In jazz, it’s the difference between Dexter Gordon’s sly, behind-the-beat phrasing and John Coltrane’s timeless, searching wail.  In blues, T-Bone Walker and Magic Sam shared a common language but still seemed worlds apart, and I’d have a hard time picturing them together on the same stage.

Rare is the artist who dominates two separate genres with two radically different approaches to playing.  Exhibit A: the freakishly talented Miles Davis, who made the transition from peerless balladeer to jazz-funk pioneer.  Exhibit B: Clarence White…

Clarence White?

Yes, White is another one of those criminally ignored figures in music – a former child prodigy who revolutionized bluegrass flatpicking and went on to create a whole new vocabulary for rock guitarists.  This post looks at his unique genius from two different angles.  I’ll let Brother James, who has flatpicked his way through several north Florida bluegrass bands, comment on White’s innovative approach to his acoustic instrument of choice, the Martin D-28.  And the Rubber City’s Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys will talk about White’s other musical legacy – as a rock guitar trailblazer.

For a better appreciation of what Clarence White was able to accomplish, consider an unrivaled virtuoso like Belgian guitarist Django Reinhardt.  As you can hear from this next sample, Reinhardt couldn’t disguise his trademark sound when he made the switch from acoustic to electric guitar.  In fact, he barely altered his touch and delivery.  The sample starts with Django on acoustic and ends with one of his later performances on electric… Night and Day/Django Reinhardt (acoustic/electric)

White, on the other hand, completely transformed his basic style and approach when he moved from acoustic to electric.  In this first sample, a 20-year-old White displays his fully formed mastery of the acoustic guitar… I Am A Pilgrim/The Kentucky Colonels

On this next cut, you’ll hear what sounds like Neil Young’s more proficient cousin rocking out with an amped-up pedal steel… It’s actually White on his “B-Bender” guitar, which was specially rigged with pulleys and levers to bend the B note when he pulled down on the guitar’s neck.  And it’s from a live recording of White with The Byrds, circa 1971: Lover of the Bayou/The Byrds with Clarence White

You can argue about which Clarence you prefer – but there’s no doubt that White advanced the language of his instrument in two very different ways.

A little background… Born in 1944, Clarence White moved with his family from his hometown of Lewiston, Maine, to Burbank, California, when he was 10 years old.  He soon gained a reputation as a jaw-dropping instrumentalist, playing acoustic guitar with his brothers Roland and Eric in a bluegrass outfit called The Three Country Boys.  One early fan was Andy Griffith – that’s right, the Mayberry Man… and the Three Country Boys soon found themselves guesting on one of TV’s highest-rated shows.  Here’s a clip of Clarence and the Boys jamming with Andy:

The Three Country Boys eventually morphed into the Kentucky Colonels, who staked their claim as a groundbreaking and popular act (at least by bluegrass standards… in other words, small clubs filled with 70-80 enthusiastic fans).  The band boasted several top-notch instrumentalists, including the great fiddle player Scotty Stoneman and Clarence’s brother Roland on mandolin.  But aspiring guitar players – bluegrass and otherwise – were completely knocked out by Clarence’s blazing runs on his 1935 Martin D-28.

“The Kentucky Colonels’ ‘Appalachian Swing’ album was already seven years old when I first heard it, and I immediately got obsessed with Clarence’s acoustic style of playing,” James said.  ”It was his idiosyncratic sense of timing that separated him from his mentor, Doc Watson.”

As mandolin legend David Grisman points out (in the liner notes to White’s “33 Acoustic Guitar Instrumentals”): “When we used to do ‘Bury Me Beneath the Willow,’ he would play the guitar part a whole quarter of a measure off.  He was into screwing with time, but in a very accurate way so that you knew what he meant.”

Here’s the tune Grisman is describing… Bury Me Beneath the Willow/Clarence White

Joseph Spence

“One thing that puzzled me about Clarence’s innovation is that it didn’t seem to come from anywhere,” James said.  ”Doc Watson didn’t play like that.  And although it’s often mentioned that he listened to Django Reinhardt, I don’t hear so much of that in his playing.  Then I read a quote from Byrds bassist Chris Hillman saying he ‘probably’ got it from Bahamian guitarist Joseph Spence.  I don’t know if Hillman was speaking from experience, but it makes perfect sense.  Spence’s wildly syncopated playing, with its bizarre, unexpected accents, is very similar to what Clarence was doing.”  Case in point… Don’t Take Everybody To Be Your Friend/Joseph Spence

I think it’s safe to say that Clarence was the very definition of a “musician’s musician.”  In some circles – mainly, bluegrass and alternative country pickers – you can simply say “Clarence” and everyone knows who you’re talking about.  From a performance standpoint, he showed little flash or showmanship.  In fact, his stoic stage presence seemed to say “I’m just the guitar player, here to serve the song.”  And he maintained this stoicism throughout his career, even while playing in front of whacked-out rock fans at the Fillmore.

White began experimenting with the electric guitar during the latter part of his stint with the Kentucky Colonels, and he stuck with it after the band fell apart in 1965.  This led to the next significant stage of Clarence’s career – doing session work for a host of acts that were part of the West Coast’s quickly evolving country music scene.  “Nashville West” was the term used to describe California’s answer to the dominant sound of country music in the early- to mid-Sixties – and it was also the name of a band that White joined to play assorted dives and honky-tonks in El Monte and other towns around Los Angeles.

By then, Bakersfield had become the Western hub of country music – where Merle Haggard and Buck Owens developed a tougher, more visceral alternative to the “countrypolitan” sound that Nashville had perfected.  Owens even made an impression on the Beatles, who covered Act Naturally with a winning vocal by Ringo, and Owens returned the favor by incorporating some Beatle-esque flourishes into his own sound.

White did a fair amount of studio work in Bakersfield, but I wouldn’t mistake him for Roy Nichols – the guitarist of choice for Merle Haggard… If you’re not familiar with the Bakersfield Sound, here’s a textbook example – the biting intro to Merle’s The Bottle Let Me Down (Nichols follows the pedal steel)… The Bottle Let Me Down/Merle Haggard

Although just as far from mid-Sixties Nashville, White’s playing was more open and experimental than Nichols’ hard twang.  This next tune was recorded in 1968 at the El Monte nightclub that gave White’s band its name – it shows just how far outside Clarence was willing to take his sound in a live setting: Ode to Billy Joe/Nashville West

Of course he had to pay the bills, too.  So he logged countless hours doing studio sessions for West Coast artists like Gene Clark and the Gosdin Brothers.  Here’s a number that also was covered by Owens’ guitarist Don Rich… It’s from an uneven but entertaining collection of White’s studio work – ”Tuff and Stringy Sessions: 1966-1968″: Buckaroo/Clarence White

White began playing with The Byrds in 1966, initially in the role of studio mercenary.  In fact, he contributed to three albums – most significantly, adding some fine string-bending to several cuts on the classic “Sweetheart of the Rodeo” – before he was asked to join the band in 1968 following the departure of vocalist Gram Parsons and multi-instrumentalist/original member Chris Hillman (an old friend of White’s).

“For me, it was all about the B-Bender,” said Auerbach.  “No one else had even thought of doing it – taking a Telecaster and making it sound like a pedal steel – until Clarence and Gene Parsons (The Byrds’ drummer) got together.  I think Clarence had the idea and Parsons came up with the functionality, which included using banjo tuners to bend a few other strings.

“At the time, a lot of rockers were moving toward country – and Clarence was already completely immersed in hard country and bluegrass.  He simply took those elements and incorporated them into rock ‘n roll, and it totally blew people’s minds… still does,” Dan added.

“The Byrds Live at the Fillmore West (February 1969)” may not be a favorite among rock critics, but it’s certainly one of Dan’s most treasured discs.  “I could barely listen to studio tracks by The Byrds after hearing ‘Fillmore West,’” Dan says.  “Even Clarence’s studio work sounds too polished compared to the Fillmore stuff.  I think it showcases Clarence’s very best playing on the electric.  Roger McGuinn is basically recycling Dylan on the 12-string – which ain’t bad, because he’s playing solid rhythm.  But Clarence and Parsons are completely locked in and making each other sound better than ever.  Parsons’ playing is muscular, but real country too.  It’s like they were both leading the same revolution, because they came from country but really understood how to play rock ‘n roll.”

Listen to how Clarence plays fills around McGuinn’s vocals in this medley of The Byrds’ hits (first Turn! Turn! Turn!, then Mr. Tamborine Man, then Eight Miles High): Medley: Turn! Turn! Turn/The Byrds with Clarence White

The album moves seamlessly between these rockers and almost hard-core honky tonk, where Clarence and Parsons really get to strut their stuff: Drug Store Truck Drivin’ Man/The Byrds with Clarence White

White played with The Byrds until they broke up in 1973.  But even before he left the band, his playing began to come full circle as he returned to his bluegrass roots.  You can especially hear it in the title song and Bristol Steam Convention Blues from The Byrds’ last album, “Farther Along,” released in 1971.  This next cut shows that White also was no slouch as a singer – he had a distinct and soulful delivery (in a nasal, Dylanesque sort of way) that worked well in harmonies with his bandmates in The Byrds as well as with his brother Roland… Farther Along/The Byrds

Two years later, White recorded a few songs with bluegrass standouts David Grisman (mandolin), Richard Greene (fiddle). Bill Keith (banjo) and Peter Rowan (vocals/guitar).  These recordings, under the name “Muleskinner,” are mostly traditional bluegrass in the Bill Monroe vein.

“I spent a couple of years trying to unlock the secrets of Appalachian Swing when the newly formed Muleskinner band appeared on TV, and I was amazed,” James said.  ”Clarence had refined his style, using a flatpick and two fingers instead of just a flatpick, and playing fewer notes, just the essential ones.  His unique timing was still there, but even more complex and quirky.  It was brilliant… sent me right back to the drawing board.  I can only imagine what he might be doing today.”

James especially likes Clarence’s solo on this straight-ahead bluegrass number from Muleskinner: Dark Hollow/Muleskinner

White left us way too soon.  He was killed by a drunk driver on July 15, 1973, while loading equipment into a van parked outside of a Los Angeles night club.  He’d just finished a reunion gig with his brother Roland and other members of the Kentucky Colonels.

Here’s a little taste of what could have been – a long-lost recording of the White Brothers on tour in Sweden, 1973.  In a way, this mini-tour was a reunion of White’s very first band, The Three Country Boys, as brothers Roland and Eric were part of the lineup billed as “The New Kentucky Colonels” (banjo player Bill Keith made it a quartet).  Full circle indeed… New River Train/The White Brothers: Live in Sweden, 1973

More Clarence on video… Here’s a great artifact from the Sixties – Clarence and The Byrds playing on “Playboy After Dark.”  Dig the black dude boogalooing up front!

And here’s a video from 1969 – from Earl Scruggs’ “Family & Friends Festival of Music” – where Scruggs and his hippie friends eventually get around to playing the same tune: