SESSION shenanigans
The studio guitarist’s guide to happiness and personal fulfilment, as related by session ace Mitch Dalton. This month: “Be an original - like all the others.”
Iam quietly confident that the Gibson guitar company would have sold considerably fewer examples of the Lester William Polsfuss Custom model had the gentleman not had the good sense to Americanise his moniker for professional purposes. But back in the Boring Twenties in Waukesha, Wisconsin, the putative inventor, innovator and genius had come to a conspiratorial arrangement with his teenage chum. He had attached a cord to the bedpost and dangled it from the window every evening. If anything interesting was happening guitar-wise at the solitary local club, his accomplice was instructed to run over to the the house and give the Yank a yank. (Sorry. It had to be done.)
And as Mr Paul later recounted, it came to pass that he was woken one night by this crude method, accompanied by a stage whispered “Pssst! You gotta come! There’s a guy in town playing past the third fret!” “No way! No one does that!” Nevertheless, an incredulous 13-year-old Lester shimmied down the drainpipe, and a few minutes later was watching transfixed as his mentor-to-be and future employer, Joe Wolverton, did imaginable things on a guitar. The rest is mystery. The stage, radio and recording career, the guitar designs, the overdubbing, tape delay, phasing and multitracking. You couldn’t make it up. But Les Paul did.
In the curious case of John Leslie Montgomery, circumstances dictated novel solutions to mastering the instrument for this entirely self-taught student. Although growing up in a musical family (brothers Monk and Buddy also became accomplished jazz musicians), ‘Wes’ had dabbled with the tenor guitar in childhood but only took up ‘proper’ guitar seriously at around 21. By this time the combination of a full-time day job in Indianapolis, a residency and an ‘after hours’ gig (to say nothing of unsympathetic neighbours and a family that would ultimately expand to include six children) saw to it that practice was only possible late at night. By dispensing with a pick and employing the fleshy part of the thumb, the required reduction in volume was achieved, combined with devising a unique octave style to add strength to his lines. The adjective used to describe this innovation is frequently quoted as “impossible” but this doesn’t seem to have discouraged our nonreading trail blazer. Recognised as one of the most important musicians of the 20th century, not many jazz guitarists get to have a park named after them in their home town. Which has to be a step up from a park bench, to be fair.
Life-threatening injury in early life seems to be another possible route to originality. But don’t try this at home, children. Jean Reinhardt did. Personally, I would suggest another route, avoiding motorways and Selmer guitars. And caravan fires, to be fair. As a result of the latter, the 18-year-old Django was left severely burned, took 18 months to convalesce and was left with the third and fourth fingers of his left hand capable only of forming barre chords. Despite having been advised to have his right leg amputated and told that he could never play again, the originator of Gypsy Jazz applied himself to rebuilding an entirely new technique, with groundbreaking results. I think it’s fair to say that the average listener would be hard pressed to infer that the man was handicapped to the slightest degree.
And so we conclude our potted review of game-changing guitar greats with a spot of time travel to a September morning in North London in 1970. Clem Cattini, session star and drumming legend (The Tornados - ‘Telstar’ and Johnny Kidd And The Pirates - ‘Shakin’ All Over’, to name not very many) is at home. The phone rings. It’s Charlie Katz, one of the busiest contractors of the day and a man not to be trifled with.
“Clem! What are you doing at home? You should have been at Decca Studios an hour ago. What are you playing at?” “Charlie, haven’t you heard? Jimi Hendrix died yesterday. What’s the point?” “Never mind about that - you just get down to Studio Four. They’ll send someone.”
I will concede readily that Charlie possessed an impressive roster of the top names in the Music Biz but the notion of finding another left-handed substitute guitarist with a reversed ‘upside down’ string setup, plus a mastery of feedback, electronics and distortion and all at an hour’s notice, might have been teetering on the over confident.
So there you have it. Go to Berklee if you must. Study with the greats. Shred those scales and arpeggios. Or just be an original. Like all the others.
Les Paul (1915-2009).
Wes Montgomery (1923-1968). Django Reinhardt (1910-1953). Jimi Hendrix (1942-1970).
NOT MANY JAZZ GUITARISTS GET TO HAVE A PARK NAMED AFTER THEM - A STEP UP FROM A PARK BENCH, TO BE FAIR