truth
josh alan friedman has called him "the most important guitarist in rock history," and i wouldn't argue. then again, my ex-editor has called him "a pompous ass," and i wouldn't disagree with him, either. jeff beck is a complex cat, one who can pull the most amazing sounds from his axe with just what's in his head, hands, and heart -- mofo hasn't even used a _pick_ since 1980 -- with the composure of a zen master; no over-emotive "getting _into_ it" for this muso's muso. that said, even tho i scooped up his back catalog up to blow by blow (the rekkid that caused me and my lawn guyland guitar-slingin' claque ca. '74 to realize that maybe we needed to learn how to "play good") on vinyl from hpb years ago, i haven't bought a new beck rec in years, and there's really only one of 'em that i actually listen to with any regularity: truth, his debut from 1968 (my year of years, music-wise).
in '68, after being shitcanned from the yardbirds for unreliability at the end of 1966 and spending 1967 promoting a couple of laughably lisp-ridden solo singles (as a vocalist!), jeff solidifed the lineup of his best band and cut this taut, tough little gem of an album. the riddim section of ronnie wood (ex-birds, ex-creation, and world's greatest guitarist-demoted-to-bassist until ron asheton was forced to cede his stooges guitar slot to james williamson) and micky waller (world's greatest sloppy drummer who later achieved immortality for his loose-limbed propulsion on rod stewart's "every picture tells a story") laid down a groove of snaky menace while raspy-voiced stewart (a second-tier r&b vocalist who hadn't yet decided he wanted to be sinatra rather than sam cooke) emoted over the top and beck his own self churned out the nastiest sounds ever heard from an electric guitar, less monolithic than hendrix but every bit as expressive -- the full realization of early buddy guy in the form of a pudding-bowl headed brit hotrod fanatic.
"shapes of things" deconstructed the most forward-looking track he'd cut with the yardbirds...
...while the magisterial instrumental "beck's bolero," the result of a covert '66 studio sesh, was the real beginning of led zeppelin:
speaking of which, beck's version of willie dixon's "you shook me" (heard live at the fillmore west, july 1968, below) was concise where zeppelin's was sprawling:
in the fullness of time, due to poor decision making (beck took a pass on the woodstock festival) and bad luck (an auto accident put him out of action for a spell), jeff got to watch his pal page's band eclipse him before perpetrating beck, bogert and appice with ex-vanilla fudge hacks and then going off to play fuzak fluff, ever tinkering with his his technique but never quite achieving the raw brilliance that he did when he was considered a despoiler rather than an eminence. for the proof of the pudding, slap on "i ain't superstitious" and crank up to 11...
in '68, after being shitcanned from the yardbirds for unreliability at the end of 1966 and spending 1967 promoting a couple of laughably lisp-ridden solo singles (as a vocalist!), jeff solidifed the lineup of his best band and cut this taut, tough little gem of an album. the riddim section of ronnie wood (ex-birds, ex-creation, and world's greatest guitarist-demoted-to-bassist until ron asheton was forced to cede his stooges guitar slot to james williamson) and micky waller (world's greatest sloppy drummer who later achieved immortality for his loose-limbed propulsion on rod stewart's "every picture tells a story") laid down a groove of snaky menace while raspy-voiced stewart (a second-tier r&b vocalist who hadn't yet decided he wanted to be sinatra rather than sam cooke) emoted over the top and beck his own self churned out the nastiest sounds ever heard from an electric guitar, less monolithic than hendrix but every bit as expressive -- the full realization of early buddy guy in the form of a pudding-bowl headed brit hotrod fanatic.
"shapes of things" deconstructed the most forward-looking track he'd cut with the yardbirds...
...while the magisterial instrumental "beck's bolero," the result of a covert '66 studio sesh, was the real beginning of led zeppelin:
speaking of which, beck's version of willie dixon's "you shook me" (heard live at the fillmore west, july 1968, below) was concise where zeppelin's was sprawling:
in the fullness of time, due to poor decision making (beck took a pass on the woodstock festival) and bad luck (an auto accident put him out of action for a spell), jeff got to watch his pal page's band eclipse him before perpetrating beck, bogert and appice with ex-vanilla fudge hacks and then going off to play fuzak fluff, ever tinkering with his his technique but never quite achieving the raw brilliance that he did when he was considered a despoiler rather than an eminence. for the proof of the pudding, slap on "i ain't superstitious" and crank up to 11...
posted by stashdauber at 6:27 AM
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