Santa Monica, CA (May 4, 2023)—The diminutive jamX is the most recent digital audio interface from Apogee Electronics. Unveiled on the current NAMM Show, the brand new jamx builds on the unique jam interface from 2010, permitting customers to attach a guitar to a pc or iOS machine with an interface that’s sufficiently small to slot in a guitar case compartment.
Updating the unique, the brand new jamX provides a brand new function—a built-in analog compressor, permitting customers to benefit from tone-shaping compression from the beginning.
jamX’s built-in analog compressor options three presets that reply to how a lot the person drives the enter acquire. By making use of compression earlier than a digital amp sim, gamers will add to their guitar tone in new methods.
jamX’s compressor lets customers form your clear tone, it provides maintain and balances dynamics. It can be utilized to fatten up single-coil pickups or tame humbuckers, as properly. With three modes—Smooth Leveler, Purple Squeeze, and Vintage Blue Stomp—gamers have the choice to go from refined to excessive.
Users can keep within the rhythmic pocket with Blend mode, permitting them to file with out latency. To pay attention solely by way of digital amp software program, flip off Blend with a click on of a button.
Whether recording a monitor or streaming music, jamX is meant to bolster audio playback attributable to its pattern charges as much as 96 kHz and ample headroom.
The Joe Henry music “The Yearling” begins, “I left behind all that I may, took what I’d want, walked myself into the wooden the place the mountains develop to seed. There, yearlings tumbled at my toes, rolling on their approach, again earlier than this all started and much past as we speak.”
The listener can guess that the yearlings on this poignant music—realized with evocative violin components by Tony Trundle interweaving with Henry’s guitar enjoying, Floriane Blancke on Celtic harp, and vocals by Henry and Lisa Hannigan— characterize purity and innocence discovered within the pure world, at the start of life.
Most of the tracks on the newest Joe Henry album, All the Eye Can See, are equally reflective. He wrote in his notes concerning the songs, “I hear them partially as springing out of our shared and traumatic experiences of the current previous, certain, in addition to our present-day responses to them; but when I’m sincere, I do know that I’ve by no means allowed myself to write down and launch songs as private as these now really feel to me.”
Henry had the opposite facet of most cancers remedy in his sights when the pandemic closed each door that he thought was about to open. Like many, he felt blindsided, and he took numerous solitary walks. Songs ultimately emerged from the quiet.
“This occurred 5, six, seven instances,” Henry explains. “I had a full music in my head primarily written. I’d stroll within the door and shortly scribble down the phrases that had been biking via my thoughts so I wouldn’t overlook them, after which I’d discover a guitar and work out the way to assist what I had simply been singing on my stroll. Then I’d instantly document my a part of it, making an attempt to maintain it as uncooked and rapid as I may.
“As quickly as I had a model of myself on acoustic guitar and vocals sketched out, I’d ship that to anyone, most notably my pricey buddy keyboard participant Patrick Warren, who was residing simply throughout city. And he wouldn’t solely ship again feedback but additionally he’d return the session recordsdata with contributions—perhaps a few cellos and a pump organ and an upright piano. Then I’d see who else wanted to get this music, and proceed to go it round to individuals.”
LEARNING TO RECORD
For a producer and musician who has all the time most well-liked the interaction of a stay band, this course of was born of necessity. “I knew that what I wanted was to not sulk at house,” Henry says, “however to throw myself into studying to document myself viably so I didn’t need to cease my inventive life or lose reference to the folks that I make music with, who’re additionally my closest pals. I instantly began to be taught Pro Tools.
A glimpse inside Henry’s studio. PHOTO: Joe Henry.
“In the previous, I’d all the time waited till I had a full album’s value of songs written earlier than giving thought to how I’d document them, how they may be articulated,” he continues, “however on this case, I used to be enthusiastic about studying to document and feeling an urgency round it as quickly as a brand new music would arrive. I used to be writing with a type of fury that I hadn’t skilled earlier than, and I used to be actually studying within the real-time of recording this document.”
Henry had the whole lot he wanted, after all. Over the years, he’d amassed a formidable assortment of kit for his Pasadena, Calif., studio, Garfield House. He was well-versed within the sound and capabilities of his gear, however beforehand he’d primarily saved his fingers free, to give attention to his accountability as a producer, whereas gifted engineers like his frequent studio companion Ryan Freeland had been there to seize it. But that was earlier than COVID.
“For the earliest songs on this document, I used my RCA BK-5B microphone [for vocals],” Henry says. “Later, I began utilizing an AEA A440 for vocals bit—one thing I discovered from Ryan Freeland, who incessantly will pair the A440 with an previous [Neumann] M 49. An M 49 might be my favourite go-to microphone; it offers me the readability of a tube mic plus numerous the textural traits of a ribbon. I even have a [Shure] SM7 that I take advantage of each time older or extra finicky mics don’t have perspective.
Guitars are racked up and on the prepared in Henry’s studio. PHOTO: Joe Henry.
“All of my vocals and guitar occurred on the similar time,” he continues. “In the early days, once I was utilizing my RCA BK-5B, what I used to be utilizing on my guitar most was a Royer R-122. When I used to be utilizing an M 49 for vocals, I began utilizing the AEA A440 and an previous Gefell M7 tube mic [on guitar], with the AEA positioned somewhat in entrance of me in order that it was choosing up some vocal traits as effectively. Then I’d put the Gefell M7 decrease to get some bottom-end heat, in order that it wasn’t simply strings and assault I used to be listening to; I actually wish to hear the physique of the instrument.”
Henry is joined on the album by a lot of his frequent collaborators: drummer Jay Bellerose; bassist David Piltch; keyboardists Warren and Keefus Ciancia; guitarists Marc Ribot, John Smith and Bill Frisell; and his son Levon Henry on clarinet and sax. Also, the sky being the restrict to distant collaboration, visitors embody Daniel Lanois, Allison Russell, JT Nero, Madison Cunningham, Rose Cousins, Francesco Turrisi, the Milk Carton Kids, Tyler Chester, Tony Trundle, Floriane Blancke and Lisa Hannigan.
MIXING WITH OTHERS
Henry’s songs had been in numerous phases of completion when he acquired an electronic mail someday from North Carolina-based engineer Jason Richmond—only a pleasant check-in.
“I began telling Jason about this document,” Henry recollects. “I had toyed with the thought of blending it myself, simply within the spirit of doing extra alone, and I requested him if I may ship him a mixture for his sincere, essential ear. I despatched him one thing that I used to be actually assured about, and he wrote me again, ‘Since you’ve requested me to be sincere, the music is nice, the performances are nice, however as a mixture, this feels flat to me. I believe you’re shedding numerous your dynamics in the way you’re approaching this.’
“He very generously mentioned, ‘Send me the session recordsdata for that music, and I’m going to combine it and see if I can present you what I believe may be lacking from what you’re doing.’ When I bought that music again, I understood immediately that I’d not be mixing this document.”
Mix engineer Jason Richmond. PHOTO: Teddy Denton.
“We determined I used to be doing the entire document at that time,” says Richmond. “I combine numerous house recordings, however this one was completely different within the sense that there’s so many various musicians, all recording in very completely different places. There had been very clear room tones on sure individuals’s devices, and it was my job to get the whole lot to take a seat collectively in a cohesive house.”
Richmond combined the Pro Tools periods in his private studio, which is supplied with Amphion One18 and ProAc 100 displays. He ran the whole lot via Pro Tools and Apogee Symphony converters, his Roll Music Folcrom summing mixer and BAE 1073 mic pres. “For probably the most half, the whole lot additionally ran via my 2-bus API 5500 and a D.W. Fearn VT-7 compressor. The VT7 is delicate, however it gave the document a little bit of glue,” Richmond says.
“I spotted, if a selected instrument had a extremely clear room tone on it, I in all probability wasn’t going to have the ability to eliminate it,” he continues. “So, as a substitute I’d push the whole lot else in that course. The music ‘Small Wonder’ was one the place Jay Bellerose’s drum sound is considerably uncooked, so I made the whole lot extra uncooked in a method to match that drum observe. Or on ‘Red Letter Day,’ there’s numerous environment that’s largely constructed round 4 or 5 completely different delays which might be processed with some modulation, so the whole lot sounds nearer collectively.”
Richmond’s go-to plug-ins on this undertaking included SoundToys Echo Boy, PrimalTap and Tremolator, plus a UAD Galaxy Echo plug-in. Hardware processing included Retro’s 2A3 (particularly on guitars and keys), Crane Song IBISwith Chandler LTD-2 (drums), and on lead vocals, an ADL 1700 parallel processor via LaChapell 583E and Chandler TG2 preamps.
BRINGING IT ALL TOGETHER
“A big a part of this document was constructed round completely different delays,” Richmond says. “I’d pile delays on and tuck them down, after which put a few of these delays via a reverb. I discovered that I may calculate and add these to the vocal or guitar components and sync the whole lot nearer to what the drums appeared like, for instance.
“To get Joe’s vocals to take a seat ahead within the combine, I used 1176 compressors operating parallel via tube pres just like the LaChapell,” the engineer continues. “Also, there have been a few instances when some tracks had been re-amped, and I’d tuck that beneath his authentic vocal. In some circumstances, there are a number of ranges of parallel processing below his vocal to pump it up with out it overriding the whole lot else.”
Richmond additionally mastered the album, this time working in The Kitchen Mastering, utilizing WaveLab in addition to Manley Variable MU, Terry Audio CEQ, Millennia NSEQ-2, Shadow Hills Mono Optograph and FabFilter processing.
The Joe Henry album “All The Eye Can See”
Amid all of the disparate components coming collectively, Henry made a change that he says was a very long time coming: He and his spouse packed up and moved from Pasadena to Maine. There’s that line from “The Yearling” once more: “I left behind all that I may, took what I’d want…”
Having grown up with 4 seasons, Henry says that in L.A., “I used to be all the time ready for this different factor to occur, which I discovered deeply romantic and necessary.” All the Eye Can See marks a transition for this artist/producer—one of many methods he has chosen to maneuver ahead.
“To borrow from Woody Guthrie, this prepare is sure for glory,” Henry writes in his notes concerning the album, “and I’ve come to be taught that that speaks—all the time and endlessly—to journey, not vacation spot.”
The Joe Henry song “The Yearling” begins, “I left behind all that I could, took what I might need, walked myself into the wood where the mountains grow to seed. There, yearlings tumbled at my feet, rolling on their way, back before this all began and far beyond today.”
The listener can guess that the yearlings in this poignant song—realized with evocative violin parts by Tony Trundle interweaving with Henry’s guitar playing, Floriane Blancke on Celtic harp, and vocals by Henry and Lisa Hannigan— represent purity and innocence found in the natural world, at the beginning of life.
Most of the tracks on the latest Joe Henry album, All the Eye Can See, are similarly reflective. He wrote in his notes about the songs, “I hear them in part as springing out of our shared and traumatic experiences of the recent past, sure, as well as our present-day responses to them; but if I am honest, I know that I have never allowed myself to write and release songs as personal as these now feel to me.”
Henry had the other side of cancer treatment in his sights when the pandemic closed every door that he thought was about to open. Like many, he felt blindsided, and he took a lot of solitary walks. Songs eventually emerged from the quiet.
“This happened five, six, seven times,” Henry explains. “I had a full song in my head essentially written. I would walk in the door and quickly scribble down the words that had been cycling through my mind so I wouldn’t forget them, and then I’d find a guitar and figure out how to support what I had just been singing on my walk. Then I would immediately record my part of it, trying to keep it as raw and immediate as I could.
“As soon as I had a version of myself on acoustic guitar and vocals sketched out, I would send that to somebody, most notably my dear friend keyboard player Patrick Warren, who was living just across town. And he would not only send back comments but also he’d return the session files with contributions—maybe a couple of cellos and a pump organ and an upright piano. Then I would see who else needed to get this song, and continue to pass it around to people.”
LEARNING TO RECORD
For a producer and musician who has always preferred the interplay of a live band, this process was born of necessity. “I knew that what I needed was not to sulk at home,” Henry says, “but to throw myself into learning to record myself viably so I didn’t have to stop my creative life or lose connection with the people that I make music with, who are also my closest friends. I immediately started to learn Pro Tools.
A glimpse inside Henry’s studio. PHOTO: Joe Henry.
“In the past, I’d always waited until I had a full album’s worth of songs written before giving thought to how I might record them, how they might be articulated,” he continues, “but in this case, I was excited about learning to record and feeling an urgency around it as soon as a new song would arrive. I was writing with a sort of fury that I hadn’t experienced before, and I was really learning in the real-time of recording this record.”
Henry had everything he needed, of course. Over the years, he’d amassed an impressive collection of equipment for his Pasadena, Calif., studio, Garfield House. He was well-versed in the sound and capabilities of his gear, but previously he’d mainly kept his hands free, to focus on his responsibility as a producer, while talented engineers like his frequent studio partner Ryan Freeland were there to capture it. But that was before COVID.
“For the earliest songs on this record, I used my RCA BK-5B microphone [for vocals],” Henry says. “Later, I started using an AEA A440 for vocals a good bit—something I learned from Ryan Freeland, who frequently will pair the A440 with an old [Neumann] M 49. An M 49 is probably my favorite go-to microphone; it gives me the clarity of a tube mic plus a lot of the textural characteristics of a ribbon. I also have a [Shure] SM7 that I use whenever older or more finicky mics don’t have a good attitude.
Guitars are racked up and at the ready in Henry’s studio. PHOTO: Joe Henry.
“All of my vocals and guitar happened at the same time,” he continues. “In the early days, when I was using my RCA BK-5B, what I was using on my guitar most was a Royer R-122. When I was using an M 49 for vocals, I started using the AEA A440 and an old Gefell M7 tube mic [on guitar], with the AEA placed a little in front of me so that it was picking up some vocal characteristics as well. Then I would put the Gefell M7 lower to get some bottom-end warmth, so that it wasn’t just strings and attack I was hearing; I really want to hear the body of the instrument.”
Henry is joined on the album by many of his frequent collaborators: drummer Jay Bellerose; bassist David Piltch; keyboardists Warren and Keefus Ciancia; guitarists Marc Ribot, John Smith and Bill Frisell; and his son Levon Henry on clarinet and sax. Also, the sky being the limit to remote collaboration, guests include Daniel Lanois, Allison Russell, JT Nero, Madison Cunningham, Rose Cousins, Francesco Turrisi, the Milk Carton Kids, Tyler Chester, Tony Trundle, Floriane Blancke and Lisa Hannigan.
MIXING WITH OTHERS
Henry’s songs were in various stages of completion when he received an email one day from North Carolina-based engineer Jason Richmond—just a friendly check-in.
“I started telling Jason about this record,” Henry recalls. “I had toyed with the idea of mixing it myself, just in the spirit of doing more on my own, and I asked him if I could send him a mix for his honest, critical ear. I sent him something that I was really confident about, and he wrote me back, ‘Since you’ve asked me to be honest, the song is great, the performances are great, but as a mix, this feels flat to me. I think you’re losing a lot of your dynamics in how you’re approaching this.’
“He very generously said, ‘Send me the session files for that song, and I’m going to mix it and see if I can show you what I think might be missing from what you’re doing.’ When I got that song back, I understood instantly that I would not be mixing this record.”
Mix engineer Jason Richmond. PHOTO: Teddy Denton.
“We decided I was doing the whole record at that point,” says Richmond. “I mix a lot of home recordings, but this one was different in the sense that there’s so many different musicians, all recording in very different locations. There were very clear room tones on certain people’s instruments, and it was my job to get everything to sit together in a cohesive space.”
Richmond mixed the Pro Tools sessions in his personal studio, which is equipped with Amphion One18 and ProAc 100 monitors. He ran everything through Pro Tools and Apogee Symphony converters, his Roll Music Folcrom summing mixer and BAE 1073 mic pres. “For the most part, everything also ran through my 2-bus API 5500 and a D.W. Fearn VT-7 compressor. The VT7 is subtle, but it gave the record a bit of glue,” Richmond says.
“I realized, if a specific instrument had a really clear room tone on it, I probably wasn’t going to be able to get rid of it,” he continues. “So, instead I would push everything else in that direction. The song ‘Small Wonder’ was one where Jay Bellerose’s drum sound is somewhat raw, so I made everything more raw in a way to fit that drum track. Or on ‘Red Letter Day,’ there’s a lot of atmosphere that is mostly built around four or five different delays that are processed with some modulation, so everything sounds closer together.”
Richmond’s go-to plug-ins on this project included SoundToys Echo Boy, PrimalTap and Tremolator, plus a UAD Galaxy Echo plug-in. Hardware processing included Retro’s 2A3 (especially on guitars and keys), Crane Song IBISwith Chandler LTD-2 (drums), and on lead vocals, an ADL 1700 parallel processor through LaChapell 583E and Chandler TG2 preamps.
BRINGING IT ALL TOGETHER
“A large part of this record was built around different delays,” Richmond says. “I would pile delays on and tuck them down, and then put some of those delays through a reverb. I found that I could calculate and add those to the vocal or guitar parts and sync everything closer to what the drums sounded like, for example.
“To get Joe’s vocals to sit forward in the mix, I used 1176 compressors running parallel through tube pres like the LaChapell,” the engineer continues. “Also, there were a couple of times when some tracks were re-amped, and I’d tuck that underneath his original vocal. In some cases, there are multiple levels of parallel processing under his vocal to pump it up without it overriding everything else.”
Richmond also mastered the album, this time working in The Kitchen Mastering, using WaveLab as well as Manley Variable MU, Terry Audio CEQ, Millennia NSEQ-2, Shadow Hills Mono Optograph and FabFilter processing.
The Joe Henry album “All The Eye Can See”
Amid all the disparate parts coming together, Henry made a change that he says was a long time coming: He and his wife packed up and moved from Pasadena to Maine. There’s that line from “The Yearling” again: “I left behind all that I could, took what I might need…”
Having grown up with four seasons, Henry says that in L.A., “I was always waiting for this other thing to happen, which I found deeply romantic and important.” All the Eye Can See marks a transition for this artist/producer—one of the ways he has chosen to move forward.
“To borrow from Woody Guthrie, this train is bound for glory,” Henry writes in his notes about the album, “and I’ve come to learn that that speaks—always and forever—to journey, not destination.”
Nembrini Audio MP1 Pro Programmable Tube Guitar Amplifier Plug-in.
Pavia, Italy (February 15, 2023)—Taking inspiration from the 1980s mainstay ADA MP1 Guitar Preamplifier, Italy’s Nembrini Audio has introduced its latest plug-in, the MP1 Pro Programmable Tube Guitar Amplifier.
The MP1 Pro plug-in is powered by four EL34 virtual tubes, with controls for presence, resonance, volume and power in a Class AB push-pull configuration. It also features a Tri-State Voicing selection that allows users to choose between Distortion Tube, Clean Tube or Solid State virtual circuits.
The plug-in’s EQ points have been designed to replicate the sound of Fender and Marshall. To help users customize their tones, Nembrini has also included a Power Amplifier section, six guitar effects (delay, modulations, reverb, cleaner, noise gate and compressor), a half-dozen cabinet emulations, four mic emulations with selectable mic positions, and an Impulse Loader that allows up to three third-party impulse responses to be loaded, which in turn can then be blended using volume, pan, phase, solo and mute controls. It additionally comes with free impulse responses from Chop Tones and Seacow Cabs.
The new plugin is available at an introductory price for February 2023 of $9.99 (regular price $19.99) for iOS and $29.99 (Regular price $137) for desktop use. A free iLok account is required, but no dongle is necessary.
During phone interviews that took placewhile he was in Nashville and Brooklyn, five-time Grammy-nominated jazz guitarist Julian Lage recently explained how collaborating with other musicians helps him grow as an artist.
“I think part of the study for a musician is that when you are next to people who are really in their element, you’re going to have to stand for something,” said the 34-year-old Lage. “Quite selfishly, collaboration makes me better. I can’t bring as much fat. I have to be the Julian representative in the collaboration.”
On View with a Room (Blue Note), his 12th album, Lage is trim, indeed, as he augments bassist Jorge Roeder and drummer Dave King with jazz-guitar great Bill Frisell, a longtime collaborator on stage, but this is Frisell’s first recording with Lage. “Bill is the master. He’s not only a hero of mine, but I also feel so fortunate that we’ve become closest friends over the years,” said Lage. “It’s monumental to be in his presence, to learn from him, to collaborate. During the writing of this album, Bill became an inspirational North Star. As I was writing, I would think, ‘What would work well with Bill? How does this music support our relationship and our collaborative efforts?’”
For the marathon two-day recording session, Frisell brought an arsenal of guitars, both acoustic and electric (including a baritone) to enhance the sonic palette. “In playing the music, as often happens, the sound took on an identity of its own without need to reference my vision,” said Lage. “It took on its own unique expression. It was full of surprise and deep inspiration and total delight. It was one of the most enjoyable sessions ever for me.”
Margaret Glaspy, Lage’s wife and musical partner, produced the 10 tracks, working closely with engineer Mark Goodell (Rosanne Cash, Mipso) at Brooklyn’s Bridge Studios. Lage’s longtime friend and collaborator Armand Hirsch (Hank Jones Quartet, Bobby McFerrin) added integral post-production elements.
The result, the follow-up to Lage’s 2021 Blue Note debut Squint, takes on an almost orchestral feel that finds Frisell bolstering the arrangements as he complements Lage’s lead lines. The two guitarists—the journeyman and the master—are well-suited, sharing a fondness for Jim Hall-inspired atmospherics, John Zorn’s style of avant-garde, Americana, and such pop references as the Beach Boys and the Beatles. “It was like he was the singer and I was the guitar accompanist, or he was the voice and I was the orchestrator,” Frisell said of the sessions.
Last year, Lage sent 16 demos and charts to Frisell and the two began discussing the project. “In general, we didn’t rehearse this material until the day before we went into the studio,” Lage says. “So a lot of our first efforts were captured on this album. He’s deeply inspiring. Bill sets a tone for the band that is unbeatable. Playing with him really brings out the best in everyone. He’s the greatest.”
Frisell, 71, known for both lush Americana and fearless free-form extemporizations, was pleased to get the call from Lage. “There’s this mind-boggling facility and technique, but his strength as a player lies in his personality,” Frisell said. “His curiosity and humility—he just listens like crazy. He’s genuinely humbled by the enormity of music. It’s not like he’s trying to show off, he’s trying to get deeper and deeper and figure out what it’s all about through the music.
“I really relate to that. For however many years I’ve been playing, every morning when I wake up I feel like I’m at the beginning. You just can’t ever really get it together. And Julian has that spirit. He’s just hungry to learn all the time. He’s very generous. When we play together, there’s a real conversation going on. It’s not a contest, it’s more like you’re really getting in there together and talking to each other.”
A child prodigy, Lage grew up in Santa Rosa, California, 40 miles north of San Francisco, and started playing guitar at age 5 after hearing his father strumming the instrument. At 12, he had already contributed to 1998’s Dawg Duos with David Grisman, played on the 2000 Grammy Awards telecast for an international audience estimated at one billion people, and been the subject of the Academy Award-nominated documentary Jules at Eight. By 16, he had studied sitar and tabla at the prestigious Ali Akbar College of Music (where he met future collaborator and tabla master Zakir Hussain) and was composing for and performing with veteran jazz vibraphonist Gary Burton. He released his solo debut, Sounding Point (EmArcy), in 2009, recorded with fellow alumni of the Berklee School of Music, and he has gone on to record with guitarists Nels Cline and Chris Ethridge.
At 17, Lage met Frisell at the Newport Jazz Festival, where the then-teen guitarist was playing with Burton’s band. “He was lovely,” Lage recalled. “Over the years, we’d run into each other and he’d always say hello. The first time we played guitar together was with Anthony Wilson at the Stanford Jazz Workshop. After that, we started doing some duo things and then some larger ensemble things and then some Zorn things together. I just consider myself very lucky to play with Bill at all, let alone as much as we have over the last few years.”
For Frisell, the feeling is mutual. “He’s just an example of being true to yourself and that’s what comes through in his music. It’s just great to play with Julian—I learn something every time I play with him. He’s beautiful.”
The cover to the classic Jeff Beck album, “Jeff Beck’s Guitar Shop”…slightly modified.
This past week, the music industry has been mourning the loss of guitarist Jeff Beck. Undoubtedly one of the most proficient and influential rock guitarists to date, Beck blazed a trail few dared, eschewing hits for integrity and virtuosity, while often breaking new ground. The day after news of his passing was made public, my Facebook feed—like many others, I’m sure—exploded with friends posting laments over the loss.
Beck was a guitar player’s guitarist, and the title of his first studio album, Truth, could be viewed as a template for much of his career, as well as for what would later be termed heavy metal music, the missteps of some poorly chosen cover songs on his second release, Beck-Ola, notwithstanding. Beck’s playing could tug at your heartstrings, loosen your fillings and make you shake your head—sometimes all simultaneously.
As I contemplated his contributions, I felt a little bit sad that someone like Jeff Beck, who has influenced countless musicians worldwide, never achieved the commercial success approaching that of some of his contemporaries like Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page or Rod Stewart. He appeared on the Billboard 200 every decade until his passing but never had a “hit,” though Blow By Blow came close, reaching Number 4 on the Billboard 200 in 1975. And—in spite of the fact that he earned numerous Grammy Awards for Best Rock Instrumental Performance—you’d be hard-pressed to hear his fretwork on a classic rock station unless it was The Yardbirds’ version of “Shapes Of Things.”
During the course of his career, Beck surrounded himself live and in the studio with great players, like Ron Wood, Nicky Hopkins, Jan Hammer, Narada Michael Walden, Tony Hymas, Pino Palladino, Vinnie Colaiuta and Tal Wilkenfeld. Encircling himself with great players was not only a smart move, it was probably the only move, because lesser musicians would find it hard to keep up.
As I look back on Beck’s body of work, it becomes apparent to me that (though I never realized it at the time), it formed a strong influence on my drumming. Whether it was the slithering, heavy groove of Cozy Powell on “Going Down,” Richard Bailey’s unstoppable shuffle on “Freeway Jam,” the mind-boggling footwork of Simon Phillips on “Space Boogie” (just try to play that!), or the frenzy of Terry Bozzio on “Sling Shot,” Beck’s music opened my ears to some incredible musicianship, raising the benchmark for what I thought a drummer could do in support of a great musician.
Guitar “shredders” have come and gone, but in my opinion, none of them has spoken with their instrument as uniquely and as eloquently as Jeff Beck. Godspeed, Mr. Beck. Guitar players are not the only ones who will miss you.
The cover to the classic Jeff Beck album, “Jeff Beck’s Guitar Shop”…slightly modified.
This past week, the music industry has been mourning the loss of guitarist Jeff Beck. Undoubtedly one of the most proficient and influential rock guitarists to date, Beck blazed a trail few dared, eschewing hits for integrity and virtuosity, while often breaking new ground. The day after news of his passing was made public, my Facebook feed—like many others, I’m sure—exploded with friends posting laments over the loss.
Beck was a guitar player’s guitarist, and the title of his first studio album, Truth, could be viewed as a template for much of his career, as well as for what would later be termed heavy metal music, the missteps of some poorly chosen cover songs on his second release, Beck-Ola, notwithstanding. Beck’s playing could tug at your heartstrings, loosen your fillings and make you shake your head—sometimes all simultaneously.
As I contemplated his contributions, I felt a little bit sad that someone like Jeff Beck, who has influenced countless musicians worldwide, never achieved the commercial success approaching that of some of his contemporaries like Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page or Rod Stewart. He appeared on the Billboard 200 every decade until his passing but never had a “hit,” though Blow By Blow came close, reaching Number 4 on the Billboard 200 in 1975. And—in spite of the fact that he earned numerous Grammy Awards for Best Rock Instrumental Performance—you’d be hard-pressed to hear his fretwork on a classic rock station unless it was The Yardbirds’ version of “Shapes Of Things.”
During the course of his career, Beck surrounded himself live and in the studio with great players, like Ron Wood, Nicky Hopkins, Jan Hammer, Narada Michael Walden, Tony Hymas, Pino Palladino, Vinnie Colaiuta and Tal Wilkenfeld. Encircling himself with great players was not only a smart move, it was probably the only move, because lesser musicians would find it hard to keep up.
As I look back on Beck’s body of work, it becomes apparent to me that (though I never realized it at the time), it formed a strong influence on my drumming. Whether it was the slithering, heavy groove of Cozy Powell on “Going Down,” Richard Bailey’s unstoppable shuffle on “Freeway Jam,” the mind-boggling footwork of Simon Phillips on “Space Boogie” (just try to play that!), or the frenzy of Terry Bozzio on “Sling Shot,” Beck’s music opened my ears to some incredible musicianship, raising the benchmark for what I thought a drummer could do in support of a great musician.
Guitar “shredders” have come and gone, but in my opinion, none of them has spoken with their instrument as uniquely and as eloquently as Jeff Beck. Godspeed, Mr. Beck. Guitar players are not the only ones who will miss you.
