And I’ve seen some great ones. Jeff Beck and Stevie Ray Vaughan, together in “The Fire Meets the Fury” tour of 1989… Vaughan was always a force of nature, but ultimately a little predictable. Beck was a revelation, though – even playing the dreaded jazz-fusion. I had no idea he could summon all those incredible sounds from his Stratocaster with just bare fingers against strings, and very few special effects.

Dickey Betts had so much presence and authority before he got the boot from the Allman Brothers Band. Maybe substance abuse does make you a more interesting guitar player (Clapton, anyone?). Speaking of substances, I also had the good fortune of wandering into a Grateful Dead show in Cleveland back in ‘73. Jerry Garcia sounded amazing toward the end of the concert. Too bad I had to sit through a three-hour sound check to get there.

On a smaller (small club, that is) scale, Gatemouth Brown was the most naturally gifted, effortlessly soulful player I’ve seen. I remember watching him duel with Roy Clark on TV’s “Hee-Haw.” Clark was pretty hot too – but you could see Roy sweat with every single note. Gatemouth would tear him to shreds while looking like he was waiting for someone to serve him a drink.

Brother James and I stumbled across the Nighthawks, with the great Jimmy Thackery on guitar, at the Rome Inn in Austin, TX. He took the small crowd on a side trip to virtually every musical landmark in America – Memphis, Clarksdale, Chicago, New York (Mickey Baker) and L.A. (Johnny “Guitar” Watson) and left us begging for more. I’m glad I saw him in his prime.

Young Danny Gatton

I’ve seen Muddy, Hooker, B.B., Lonnie Mack, Roy Buchanan, Mick Taylor with the Stones, nine-string freakshow Charlie Hunter… But when it came down to sheer virtuosity and feeling, Gatton was the man. He could burn with mind-numbing speed, and then slow down to caress a timeless theme like Harlem Nocturne or Melancholy Serenade. Simply put, he was a master of his instrument. But more important, he mastered every major form of American roots music – blues, jazz, country, rockabilly, western swing… Did I mention that Gatton was the man?

Like Buchanan, Thackery and another one of my favorite pickers, Evan Johns (who gained little renown with his band, the H-Bombs), Gatton was a product of the fertile roots music scene in and around our nation’s capital. And fittingly, I first saw him play at a club right off of Pennsylvania Ave.

Physically, Gatton was not an imposing figure. He was a pudgy little guy with smallish fingers that looked like they had no business strangling a Fender. He wouldn’t bother with badass poses or a bad attitude, preferring to flash an occasional goofy smile while destroying every convention of the three-sets-and-out (and carry your own shit to the van) bar-band routine. Gatton’s playing seemed to transcend his physical presence and everything around him – including the crappy dives that kept him in business.

I won’t get into the usual Gatton-related discussions regarding gear (like many of his country music idols, he preferred the Telecaster, and he invented his own special effect called the Magic Dingus box) or technique (he often used “banjo rolls” to sound like a small army of guitar players). Suffice it to say, Gatton could do virtually anything he wanted with an electric guitar. And if you had a basic appreciation of the instrument, seeing Gatton live in a small club was truly a life-altering experience.

He named one of his instrumentals Funhouse, which is a perfect word to describe a Danny Gatton performance. Jaw-dropping be-bop figures would segue into soaring blues runs, which would then dissolve into the carnival-like sounds of a Frank Zappa-influenced composition. The guy clearly had a boundless love for all forms of American music, and he claimed to have a weakness for the Blue Note recordings of Art Blakey and his Jazz Messengers. But he was especially dangerous playing rockabilly, which seemed to synthesize all of the great influences he absorbed growing up in a city with a cosmopolitan spirit and a southern heart (let’s not forget D.C.’s location relative to the Mason-Dixon Line): 88 Elmira St.

That cut was from one of two solid but fairly slick albums he recorded in the early ’90s for a major label (Elektra). Gatton worked long and hard to taste that success, having slogged his way through countless bars and a few questionable record deals. He started out in the mid-‘70s playing what he liked to call “Redneck Jazz” (the title of his second album, on the small NRG Records label). And he usually recorded with a worthy foil, like fellow guitar shredder Johns or the outstanding pedal steel player Buddy Emmons. Here’s Gatton and Emmons dueling on a tune by Hammond B3 maestro Jack McDuff… Rock Candy

Amos Garrett, himself no slouch on guitar, gave Gatton the nickname “The Humbler.” If one of his bandmates would start to get a little cocky after a gig, Garrett would whip out a tape of “The Humbler” blazing his way through one of his legendary live performances. I guess it was just Garrett’s way of keeping everyone honest, including himself.

As Gatton’s reputation grew, he added more session work to his busy schedule of bar and club gigs. Among other artists, he recorded with country star Roger Miller, rockabilly singer Robert Gordon and moody rocker Chris Isaak – although you’d be hard-pressed to find Gatton in the final mix of Isaak’s “San Francisco Days” album (another one of those effectively sparse productions from Isaak). I’m guessing he provided the whacked-out fills on this cut: Beautiful Homes/Chris Isaak with Danny Gatton(?)

Sometime in the mid-‘80s, I dragged a friend to see Gatton at a little club in Manhattan called U.S. Blues. We recognized a few other musicians in the crowd, including a couple from Bob Dylan’s touring band. But that night, they were just like the rest of us – standing there in awe of Danny Gatton. We barely moved for two hours, having planted ourselves about 10 feet from the front of the stage. And although I’ve played guitar for years, I still struggle trying to describe the experience to other musicians. It’s like closing your eyes and hearing a musical conversation among all your favorite guitarists, then opening them to realize it’s all coming from one guy – and he looks like your auto mechanic.

Apparently, Gatton’s unique genius was fueled by a fair amount of pain. And the professional indignities of being “the world’s greatest unknown guitarist” must have been more than he could bear, especially after he lost his record deal with Elektra. In 1994, Gatton shot himself dead at his home in Maryland – only a few miles from the small clubs where he first honed his chops.

Several months later, Les Paul, James Burton, Albert Lee and other six-string legends paid tribute to Gatton during a series of shows in New York that helped raise money for his widow and daughter. But even a roomful of celebrities couldn’t erase the humbling reality that Danny Gatton, a true giant of the electric guitar, remained a virtual unknown in the world of music.

We’ll close with this cut from the appropriately named album “Unfinished Business”: Melancholy Serenade

Danny Gatton on video… Thankfully, there are enough Gatton freaks out there to keep the youtube beast fed for years. Here’s some schtick that never gets old – from a 1991 performance on Austin City Limits (one of nephew Dan’s favorite Gatton clips):

For all you guitar-pickers out there, here’s a five-minute lesson from the master… Remember, if you can’t find your tuner, the dial tone on your phone is an F!

It’s all in the ear of the beholder, isn’t it? For a blues hound, a guilty pleasure might be ZZ Top. For a soccer mom, maybe it’s 50 Cent or Kanye West. If you’re a fan of New Orleans music, it might be a tune that Steve Zahn wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot Mardi Gras scepter (more on that later).

For me, it’s really quite simple… Given that some of my friends and family members are a little nutty about American roots music, it’s usually anything that would make these music snobs recoil in horror if I admitted that I own it, much less listen to it.

In the movie “Office Space,” a computer-programming Michael Bolton calls his more famous namesake an “ass-clown” – then tries to ingratiate himself with a couple of soulless consultants (the two Bobs) when he tells them that the other Bolton is “pretty good.” In one of the movie’s best moments, the first Bob then confesses, “I celebrate his entire catalog.” So basically, a guilty pleasure is like admitting you’re a bit of a Bob, or even worse.

Recently, I connected with an old friend from college (check him out here). We quickly shared notes on stuff we’ve been listening to – turns out both of us are addicted to Sixties jazz – then we started talking about albums we couldn’t do without back in the Seventies. It got even better when we compared our expansive playlists of songs from the era.

Both of us listed the obvious culprits – the Rolling Stones, Taj Mahal, Joni Mitchell, the Allman Brothers Band, the J. Geils Band, Bob Marley, Little Feat… then things started to get a little more debatable, with forays into blooze-rock limbo (Humble Pie, Foghat, Savoy Brown), prog-rock purgatory (Yes, Genesis, the Moody Blues), and glam-rock hell (David Bowie, Mott the Hoople, Roxy Music). Now I enjoyed listening to the latter dreck back in the day, just like any other self-respecting stoner. But it’s hard to slap on the Pie’s “Rockin’ the Fillmore” or Yes’ “Fragile” today without a healthy dose of ironic detachment – the old wink-nod, as they say. And god help the ass-clown who whips out “The Best of Bread.”

Most of my guilty pleasures probably fall more into the category of cocktail music, and I can probably blame college life for this too. Back when I was struggling to graduate from Ohio University (see post on “Guns, Drugs, Money and Vinyl…”), I fell in with a few misanthropes who had lost the will to rock – probably the result of spending countless hours during our teen years in front of huge banks of PA speakers, head-banging to the Pie. We were searching for more sedentary pleasures involving smoking jackets and cocktail dresses (from Goodwill, of course), mixing high-balls in front of the hi-fi, and slow-grooving to Frank and Dino.

Yeah, I know… it’s a tired cliché. But it worked for us at the time. And we somehow convinced ourselves that we weren’t turning into our parents, mainly by throwing a few contemporary artists into the mix. The clear favorite? Robert Palmer… blue-eyed soulman Robert Palmer, that is – not the guy who hit the jackpot on MTV with his backup band of supermodels. (About 20-some years ago, one’s preference regarding the two Palmers seemed like something worth arguing about… today, not so much.)

Anyway, Palmer put out a few albums in the Seventies that seemed to us like unabashed love letters to the cocktail culture – particularly “Pressure Drop” and “Double Fun.” Since then, I’ve discovered the obvious pleasures of reggae legend Toots Hibbert, which makes it even more difficult to listen to Palmer’s cover of the Maytals’ Pressure Drop. But some of the stuff on these records holds up surprisingly well, in an earnest, pseudo-soul kind of way. Just don’t toss out any Marvin Gaye to make room for it on your CD shelf.

As I grew older, I abandoned any pretense of being “relevant” and started celebrating the catalogs of other artists from the original cocktail set. And I’ll thank the movie “Big Night” for giving me a greater appreciation of Louis Prima (a New Orleans native) and his sultry sidekick, Keely Smith. The movie is really an extended riff on “Waiting for Louis.” In short, a hapless entrepreneur and his brother, a master Italian chef, bet that their fortunes will change when Prima pays a visit to their struggling restaurant (he never shows up, but the party goes on without him). It’s also a commentary on the age-old divide between elitists and “philistines,” as the chef – wonderfully played by Tony Shahloub – likes to call diners who don’t appreciate his carefully prepared seafood risotto.

I certainly was familiar with Louis Prima before I saw the movie. You had to be if you spent any amount of time in Akron’s North Hill or Cleveland’s Little Italy neighborhoods. But I used to think of him more as a jokey purveyor of novelty songs (Just a Gigolo, Angelina/Zooma Zooma), as opposed to a real player, with a first-rate band run by fellow Crescent City badass Sam Butera… Oh Marie/Louis Prima with Sam Butera

Louis Prima and snobbery – cultural, musical, culinary, you name it – are just two of many topics covered on “Treme,” HBO’s new series about post-Katrina New Orleans. I’m getting a little tired of the show’s constant trashing of tourists, the very people who help keep the city afloat. And I’m still hoping to find one character I actually like. But the music alone makes “Treme” worth watching. In one episode, an especially annoying DJ portrayed by Steve Zahn refuses to play any of the old warhorses – like Iko Iko or Walkin’ to New Orleans – during a fundraiser for his radio station (you’d be hard-pressed to find more self-righteous blowhards in one program). Instead, he sits back and savors the joys of a less-obvious choice, Prima’s Buena Sera: Buena Sera/Louis Prima

A nice moment, musically speaking – but not exactly what I’d call “sticking it to the man.”

There’s really no moral to my story, other than this: With a little time and the right context, one man’s garbage can turn into the same man’s gold. Or vice versa. And if you visit New Orleans, don’t be afraid to request Iko Iko.

At the risk of losing my mail-order degree in ethnomusicology (and your attention), I’ll leave you with a few more of my guilty pleasures:

• “Reggae Pulse 2 Hit Songs – Jamaican Style”: Reggae versions of Motown and soul hits like Just My Imagination, Ain’t No Sunshine and Papa Was A Rolling Stone… Beats the polka covers.
• Dolly Parton – Jolene: Honky-funk? Jolene
• Ramsey Lewis Trio – The “In” Crowd: It’s a real toe-tapper, daddy-o! The “In” Crowd
• Shakira: You had me at hola.
• Junior Brown – Venom Wearin’ Denim: Sometimes the name of the song is all you need.
• Dazz Band – Let It Whip: The Bucket Shop was Akron’s ultimate den of iniquity. When this song started playing at glass-shattering volume, you’d just blown right past the point of no return. Let It Whip
• Lou Reed – “New Sensations”: I’d never admit it to cousin Robert, who left Reed right before this album was recorded, but I’ve always had a soft spot for I Love You, Suzanne.
• Greg Allman – “Laid Back”: The Voice of Southern Rock croons over big, orchestral arrangements. This album was big in Milledgeville GA back in ’73… Maybe the locals had it right all along. Multi-Colored Lady
• Chris Isaak: because he steals from the right sources.
• Mahavishnu Orchestra – The Dance of Maya: Head-banging for nerds, in a time signature I couldn’t even begin to identify (a waltz, maybe?). The Dance of Maya
• Robert Gordon: Reheated rockabilly… But when your guitar players are Link Wray and Danny Gatton, who cares?

What are some of yours? If you prefer to send them anonymously, don’t worry… I’ll only share your true identity with a few friends and family members.

I have this theory about the Beach Boys… that people who live in northern, land-locked areas, where it’s brutally cold nearly half of the year, have little patience for their well-crafted odes to the surfer lifestyle.  And this theory has, for the most part, proven true – although it doesn’t begin to explain why people in the Midwest have no problem dressing up like Carmen Miranda to go to Jimmy Buffett concerts.

Great Northern Parrothead

One thing is certain:  There are few greater pleasures in rock ‘n roll than a finely executed surf instrumental.  And if you expand the definition to include “surf-influenced” songs, then you bring into the tent some of the best guitarists of any genre – from Link Wray and Lonnie Mack to Freddie King and Albert Collins.

Sure, there are the classic surf instrumentals that even my mother could reel off – Walk Don’t Run by the Ventures, Telstar by the Tornados, Wipe Out by the Surfaris, Misirlou by Dick Dale and the Del-Tones, Pipeline by the Chantays… all flawless songs that belong in the “Surf Guitar Retrospective: A Half Century of Reverb” at the Smithsonian.

But that’s just the tip of the board (let me shut off this metaphor machine before it spits out “hidden treasures in the sand”).  In fact, modern surf-guitar gems are being cut by the likes of Southern Culture on the Skids, Los Straitjackets and James Wilsey.  And it’s our job here at Rubber City Review to give you the digital warning signs you need before wading into these murky musical waters (where is that goddam switch?).

Of course, there are countless treasures from the heyday of surf guitar, the early Sixties.  Unfortunately, the best collection of Sixties surf instrumentals I ever came across – “Guitar Player Presents Legends of Guitar: Surf, Vol. 1” – has long been out of print, and I’m fairly certain that Rhino Records never got around to issuing Vol. 2.  The beauty of this collection is that it assumes you already have the touchstones like Wipe Out and Telstar and are looking to dig a little deeper.  It’s a great mix of the familiar and obscure, and everything on it is first-rate.  Here’s the track listing (and four samples) in case you want to try to find these tunes online:

1. A Run for Life – Dick Dale
2. Surf Rider – The Lively Ones
3. Beyond – The Chantays
4. Latin’ia – The Sentinels: Latin’ia
5. Baja – The Astronauts
6. Squad Car – Eddie & The Showmen
7. Tidal Wave – The Challengers
8. Tally Ho! – PJ & The Galaxies
9. Diamond Head – The Ventures Diamond Head
10. Soul Surfer – Johnny Fortune Soul Surfer
11. Bombora – The (Original) Surfaris
12. The Jester – Jim Messina & His Jesters
13. Gypsy Surfer – The Avantis
14. Our Favorite Martian – Bobby Fuller & The Fanatics
15. Bustin’ Surfboards – The Tornadoes
16. Point Panic – The Surfaris
17. Mar Gaya – The Fender IV Mar Gaya
18. Fiberglass Jungle – The Crossfires

The more adventurous can check out a five-disc series of surf instrumentals on the Sundazed label – “Lost Legends of Surf Guitar.”  The handy All Music Guide calls it “good, though not nearly as good as the very best ‘60s instrumental surf music anthologies, and can be confidently recommended to surf collectors.”  The “Lost Legends” series makes a distinction between surf and “hot rod” or “drag” tunes, a fine point I’m not sure I can grasp (when I hear tires peeling at the beginning of a song, I know it’s “hot rod”!).  Regardless, the New York-based label is an excellent source of American roots music – from garage/punk and psychedelic to country/rockabilly (including a 3-CD set of Jimmy Bryant – check out our earlier “Speed Demons of the West” post) and blues.  Sundazed also reissues original albums by surf-guitar standouts like The Challengers, The Surfaris, Ronny & the Daytonas and many more.  You can find them here.

Nephew Dan turned me on to this next one – a top-shelf collection of instrumentals recorded by Norman Petty (Buddy Holly’s first manager and producer) in the early-’60s at his studio in Clovis, New Mexico.   “I think of Norman Petty as a southern, white version of Berry Gordy and Motown Studios,” Auerbach said.  “Just like the setup at Motown, Petty was cutting edge and experimental with the recording equipment and techniques.  And he used his own stable of musicians – mostly members of the Fireballs (and their great guitarist George Tomsco) – for a lot of his stuff.”  Although his voice is one of the more recognizable in rock, Auerbach certainly appreciates the appeal of the guitar-based instrumental.  “First of all, it’s not easy to find a good singer – especially if you run a studio in Clovis.  But Petty could create a real band almost instantly with a guitarist who could pick out a few melodies.”

The great irony of the surf influence on “That’s Swift” is that most of Petty’s bands were from New Mexico and West Texas (Wes Dakus and the Rebels came all the way from Canada).  Auerbach sees a connection between Petty’s operation and the Rubber City:  “I bet Clovis is a lot like Akron… I’m sure Petty’s musicians heard a lot of influences, but didn’t see them up close.  They definitely heard the records and saw the pictures, but had to figure out how to do it on their own.”  Here’s one of Dan’s favorites from “That’s Swift”: Sour Biscuits/Wes Dakus and the Rebels

Next-Generation, Post-Neo-Surf/Drag/Hot Rod Guitar-Based Instrumentals…

Surf music didn’t get buried by the Beatles – who, as it turns out, were big fans of Brian Wilson.  But maybe it’s not the right label to describe the best examples of contemporary, surf-influenced songs.  Maybe “reverb-drenched instrumentals”?  Whatever you choose to call the genre, it’s pretty clear that a whole slew of latter-day rock, blues and country pickers owe a huge debt to the first generation of surf guitar slingers – including living legends like Nokie Edwards of The Ventures, who continues to play and record today.

Given the fact that we Americans have a habit of neglecting our most prized musical treasures, it makes perfect sense that one of the leading proponents of modern surf guitar is from Finland: Laika and the Cosmonauts.  Unfortunately, it appears the band’s 22-year career has come to a close.  A shame, really, because these guys seemed to have a knack for reinventing the surf instrumental – throwing in healthy doses of sci-fi, vintage soundtracks and other exotica to create instant classics that defy categories.  Their guitarist, Mikko Lankinen, is no slouch, but he clearly prefers melodic invention over Dale-like shredding.  Here’s a tune from an album released back in 1992, “Instruments of Terror” – still one of my favorite all-instrumental records. Note Crisis/Laika and the Cosmonauts

Even New York City’s post-punk, downtown music scene got in on the act, spawning “neo-surf” combo The Raybeats back in 1979.  The band’s long-gone album from 1983 – “It’s Only a Movie!” – is a curious mix of quirky, synthesized soundscapes and straight-ahead tributes to Booker T and Link Wray.  Guitar Player magazine called it “one of the top 10 instrumental albums of all time”… but it’s difficult to find, and very little has been written about the band or its members (except for former Raybeat and current Straitjacket Amis). It featured a rootsy yet innovative guitarist from Kansas, Jody Harris, who went on to record with The Golden Palominos and former Lou Reed guitarist Robert Quine (he described Harris as “tragically underrated”).  Here’s a tune from “Movie” that belongs in the surf hall of fame, wherever that is… Soul Beat-Intoxica/The Raybeats

They’re the Godfathers of Mexican Surf.  They’ve got a strong fan base in Spain and Russia.  Their annual Christmas Pageant is one of the holiday season’s hottest tickets (if you conveniently ignore some bloated, heavy-metal steamroller).  And their cover of My Heart Will Go On, the love theme from the movie “Titanic,” reportedly had Celine Dion contemplating early retirement.  When it comes to surf-based instrumentals expertly played by grown men in Mexican wrestling outfits, there’s only one band worth talking about: Los Straitjackets.  The fact is, these guys are damn good.  Just ask The Ventures or Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers – or, if you could bring them back from the great beyond, Link Wray and Ronnie Dawson.  This next one sounds like the theme from a long-forgotten TV show… a damn good one at that! Pacifica/Los Straitjackets

If there is such a thing as a hot-rod/hillbilly concept album, it was released in 1995 by Southern Culture on the Skids.  “Dirt Track Date” was a major-label release with a used condom on the cover.  And it sings the praises of the white trash lifestyle with heartfelt songs about Cadillacs (with eight slappin’ pistons under the hood), shiny pants, pointy tipped shoes, fireflies, Tony Joe White, Little Debbie snack crackers, eight-piece boxes of chicken and, of course, hookin’ up at the dirt track races.  But once you get beyond the broad jokes, you quickly realize these three can flat-out play.  Rick Miller’s guitar is almost as greasy as the chicken, and he’s clearly a sucker for an over-fried tube amp.  He also knows how to throw together a catchy instrumental, like this twangy homage to the galley slave… Galley Slave/SCOTS

I guarantee you’ve heard James Wilsey.  Remember that signature, moody lick from Chris Isaak’s huge hit, Wicked Game?  That’s Wilsey.  The former punk-rocker played in Isaak’s band until 1991, when he left to pursue a less-hectic lifestyle – one better suited to the sparse, understated sound of his guitar.  But he’s back with a new band, and he calls his all-instrumental originals “space-age hillbilly stuff, little-haunted-house-on-the-prairie music.”  He sounds like a perfect fusion of Duane Eddy and Link Wray, if you dragged them through the hot Arizona desert at High Noon.  If you’re looking for evidence that the surf-guitar instrumental has evolved over the years, check out this original from Wilsey’s latest, “El Dorado” (released in 2008)… El Dorado/James Wilsey

Quick hits… Not quite surf, but wouldn’t you rather have these guys at your beach party than Frankie and Annette?  (For you young ‘uns, think Carson Daly and whatever bimbo he brings along.)

Here’s a nasty slice of sinister from the late Link Wray – a favorite of directors Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez… Jack the Ripper/Link Wray

The Iceman Picketh – Sounds like the Master of the Telecaster, Albert Collins, had his ear cocked to a few surf records back in the early Sixties… Frosty/Albert Collins

If you’re more familiar with the Grateful Dead’s version (or even the original by Bobbie “Blue” Bland), you need to shake hands with the man from Aurora, Indiana: Lonnie Mack… Turn On Your Love Light/Lonnie Mack

Bonus video from the heyday of surf guitar… Dick Dale and the Del-Tones play their classic Misirlou in the 1963 movie “A Swingin’ Affair.”  I love the bass player (I’m guessing he handled the books for the band), and it’s pretty cool that they let dad play drums: