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Celebrating 50 Years of Humble Pie’s Performance: Rockin’ the Fillmore.
PETER FRAMPTON’S FINAL recording with Humble Pie was, by some irony, the band’s most successful, and is widely acknowledged as one of the most influential live albums of the decade. Culled from four sets recorded on May 28 and 29, 1971, at New York City’s Fillmore East, Performance: Rockin’ the Fillmore was released that November as a double-album set. Humble Pie were second on the bill, after Fanny and before headliner Lee Michaels, a fact hardly anyone seems to remember, so great was the album’s impact on rock history. Among the artists who have felt its influence were the Van Halen brothers, Aerosmith, Kiss, Quiet Riot, Skid Row, and other acts ranging from Tesla to the Black Crowes to Rival Sons, and beyond.
There were several reasons for that explosive impact: the lengthy but gripping improvs, the deep fatback grooves and monster fills by drummer Jerry Shirley and bassist Greg Ridley, the outrageous charisma of the late singer and rhythm guitarist Steve Marriott, and, surely, the massive guitar orchestra pouring out of Frampton and Marriott’s 4x12 cabs, a sound which presaged the so-called “brown” sound by a good seven years.
“So many players have asked me what the setup was for those performances,” Frampton says, “and I have to tell you, it was so simple. It was just a 100-watt Marshall plugged into a 4x12 Marshall slant cabinet, and a 50watt Marshall into a 4x12 slant cabinet, with the two amps connected together. And I plugged my Les Paul Custom into that. That’s it. That’s all there was. I used my volume pot on my guitar to turn down during the vocal parts, and I knew that my max throw on it was solo level. No echo, no delay, no boost. If there was any reverb or delay effect to speak of, it was just the amazing acoustics in the old Fillmore East.”
Indeed, that natural crowd and room ambiance — picked up wisely by engineer Eddie Kramer on left, center, and right room mics — is one big reason why so many classic live albums were recorded there, including Jimi Hendrix’s Band of Gypsys and the Allman Brothers At Fillmore East, among others.
And Frampton is not the only guitarist on the album with a stupendous sound. Marriott’s singlepickup Epiphone Coronet, strung impossibly with .012s and driving a Marshall amp rig nearly identical to Frampton’s, positively roars. And even given Frampton’s quicksilver modal runs, it’s Marriott’s stinging Chicago blues licks, which he liberally injects into his raucous, sing-rapping stage banter, that very nearly steal the show.
“I was a huge admirer of Steve’s playing from the first time I saw him play with the Small Faces,” Frampton says. “He’s always voted right up there as one of the all-time greatest voices, but he’s sorely underrated as a guitar player.” Indeed. Listen to the nearly 30-minute version of Dr. John’s “I Walk on Gilded Splinters,” or the epic prog-blues of “Rollin’ Stone,” and you’ll hear two guitarists working in uncanny tandem, even as Frampton blends Dorian/Blues licks (“I Don’t Need No Doctor”), Aeolian runs (“Stone Cold Fever”) and Mixolydian lines (“I’m Ready”), along with crisp arpeggios and swinging major and minor pentatonic licks (“Hallelujah, I Love Her So”). Meanwhile, Marriott charges at ferocious five chords, swooping minor-to-majorthird blues hammers and trills, and savvy minor-seventh chord comping.
The alchemy between the two players on Fillmore created a new paradigm for rock guitar, one where jazz modality and blues grit could combine for blissful moments of twin-guitar harmony, flashes of surprising counterpoint and even stark contrast. “Steve was great at working out double solos with me,” echoes Frampton, “until we’d really sound like one big guitar. I just learned so much from Steve’s attack and his conviction on the instrument.”
“SO MANY PLAYERS HAVE ASKED ME WHAT THE SETUP WAS FOR THOSE PERFORMANCES. IT WAS SO SIMPLE”
I’m not very well-versed in theory terms, but yeah, that particular chord is extremely important. In fact, somebody else in the band was playing it slightly differently than the original, and I said “No, that’s not it. That voicing changes the vibe of it.” I wanted that exact same feeling and mood.
Now, the reason I did “Isn’t It a Pity” goes back to the day in early 1970 when I went down to Abbey Road for the first time to play acoustic guitar on what would become George’s great classic, All Things Must Pass. We recorded about six tracks over the course of 10 days or so. One morning, after a late tracking session, I walked into the control room and all the band were there, just starting to arrive, and George said to Phil Spector, “Play them ‘Isn’t It a Pity.’ ” Well, the mix he played completely freaked me out. Every tape machine in the room was going, and the control room seemed like it was spinning. There was echo coming from who knows where and this huge swell of sound, though there’s probably only five people playing on the track. It was so haunting. That chord is the one that triggers everything. It wouldn’t be anything if it weren’t for that one note change.
When I was studying your solos from Humble Pie, it was a great learning experience for me. [James Rotondi has been playing guitar for Jerry Shirley’s recent touring lineup under the Humble Pie banner, in tandem with former Bad Company guitarist Dave “Bucket” Colwell — Ed.] You generally play “on the chord” inside a progression, but when you stretch out to play over vamps, what keeps coming up for many of us is the modal aspect of your playing. Along with partial chord rakes and arpeggios, we hear a lot of Dorian and Mixolydian mode in your playing. What was your “aha” moment with realizing what the elements were to creating your own style?
Well, I honestly don’t know what mode I’m in as a human being or a player. [laughs] Honestly, I’ve never known what mode I’m playing in. In fact, years ago, a dear friend of mine said, “You know you’re doing a Mixolydian mode here,” and I said, “What are you talking about?” And he sent me all the modes written out, and I realized, Oh, okay. That’s what they are, and I see why someone might interpret my playing along those lines. And then I put it down. I just don’t like to think too much about what I’m playing.
But I did have a big “aha” moment once, of the kind you’re describing. It was when Humble Pie recorded the Rock On album in 1971, and we did the song “Stone Cold Fever.” I think I was out there with the guys for a few takes, and I’m playing my solo every take, and I’m going, Oh, gosh, I’m going to be worn out by the time I’m ready to do my solo overdub. So I stopped playing, and the three of them finished cutting the track. We all came into the control room and listened to it. I listened to the guitar playing I’d done, especially the elongated solo part, the one I thought wasn’t even a keeper, and I got this great feeling. I said to myself, “I think I’ve just realized my own style; I think that all these years I’ve been listening to everyone and their mate play — and stealing things from them — are over.”
When this happens, suddenly, you can play the same lick as Eric Clapton and it doesn’t sound like Eric Clapton. You can play the same lick as Jeff Beck, but you’ll never sound like Jeff Beck again. From now on, you’re only going to sound like you. Once you’ve learned all those things from other players, and then they settle in your subconscious, they’re in the library of information now, but that’s it. You’re the one in charge. I realized at that moment, standing behind [producer] Glyn Johns as he played the track back with all the guys. That’s when I realized that I had achieved something that I’d always wanted to do. I still had a long way to go, and I still feel like I have a long way to go. We’re never finished learning. But at that moment, I knew I was on the right track. I’d arrived at my unique voice on the instrument. All of a sudden, I had my style.”
“MY BIG ‘AHA’ MOMENT WAS WHEN HUMBLE PIE DID ‘STONE COLD FEVER.’ I SAID TO MYSELF, I THINK I’VE JUST REALIZED MY OWN STYLE”