Guitar Players I’ve Known

Man, I’ve worked as a steel guitar player with a passel of guitar players. Hundreds, at least. The first one of any note was Buddy Williams, from Michigan City, IN. He was a Lloyd Green fan, and I learned a bunch of licks from him. South Bend Buddy and me in front of the Silver Dollar Saloon.

Cal Sharp and Buddy Williams

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had the good fortune to work with Pete Mitchell from the late 70’s up until Oct 29, 2006 on gigs ranging from Ernest Tubb to Broadway to skull orchards on Dickerson Pike, and it was always a pleasure. Pete was the tastiest player in the world, and had more empathy and reciprocity with a steel guitar player than anybody. He knew how to comp, play tic-tac or just lay out when it was my turn to play.


He moved to Texas a few years ago and got kidnapped by Herb Steiner and I never saw him again. Then he died. He was the best.
Pete Mitchell – Texas Troubadour Passes

Other fine guitar players I’ve worked with were Roy Melton, Marc Rogers, Richard Bass, Dan Drilling, Redd Voelkaert, Cliff Parker, and more recently Lyndell East, Bebo Whitehead, Clyde Sutton and Bill Hullett. But most of the others made me wish I’d stayed home and watched “Saturday Night Live”, at least up until the 90’s. But, hell, it was work and a little money, like digging a ditch or unloading trucks, and I had to get my roast out of layaway at Kroger.

I worked a few gigs with Pete Wade, clubs and sessions, and he’d holler at me to play what Lloyd played on some song they were on, which had me scratching my temporal lobe trying to play a cheap Japanese knockoff of what I could remember. I worked a gig with Lenny Breau when I was too green to do much, but it was fun anyway, listening to him. I played  a little with Leon Rhodes when he was working a gig at a hotel by the new Opry with Little Roy Wiggins. I dragged my stuff in and sat in on a few songs. It didn’t go real well, but I wasn’t afraid of nuthin’ back then.

A lot of guitar players have hot licks up the ass, and the attendant volume, but can’t play two notes in a row that sound pretty. I wonder if they’ve ever listened to Grady Martin  or Jimmy Capps.

Grady Martin and Jimmy Capps

 

 

 

 

I worked with a drummer once who didn’t know the difference between a pair of brushes and his ass, and I put a picture of Buddy Harman on his snare before the gig one time and he walked around all night asking who it was.

It’s all cool to play 40 notes a bar on “Rocky Top” or “The Fireman”, but when the singer calls “Make the World Go Away” I wish the guitar player would go away if he can’t or won’t change his attitude.

It’s not that fucking hard to play 3 or 4 notes, ala Grady or Jimmy, instead of 162 notes, which fills a much needed gap. To paraphrase Albert Einstein, the other “Big E”, E=mc2 – (where E = ego, M = music, and C = chops.) It doesn’t take a lot of dexterity, just taste, and the ability to subjugate yourself to the song and the singer. Geez, unless you’re the featured instrumentalist your job is to make the song and the singer sound good, right? Or did nobody ever tell you that? What, are you afraid someone might think you’re not a hot Nashville Cat if you only play 3 notes in one bar, or if the steel player gets more notes out than you do?

It’s All About Me

So what you want to do is come up with a wicked cool signature lick and play it couple times and lay back the rest of the time.

Buddy Emmons

Actually, it’s not all about you unless you’re:
1. A featured instrumentalist at a steel guitar show or similar function.
2. Recording your own album.
3. The World’s Foremost Steel Guitarist and half the people at the show are there to see you back up Johnny Bush or Darrell McCall.

Little Jimmy Dickens taught me how to play steel guitar when I went to work for him in the late 70’s. He told me to watch him like a hawk, and to follow him no matter what happened, because sometimes the song would come to a fork, due to any number of vagaries or unforeseen developments, and if it did I should probably take it. He also mentioned something about not playing over his vocals. Realizing full well that Buddy Emmons had the gig a few years before I did, I was all anxious to to impress him and everyone else with my fancy licks, but as it turned out, “Raisin’ the Dickens” was my chance to show off, not “Another Bridge To Burn”.

As a steel guitar player your main job is to make the singer and the song sound good. You’re not there to show everyone how many 16th notes you can cram into a bar.

This concept is pretty important when you’re doing a session, if you want to keep on doing sessions, though not so much these days as it used to be when everyone recorded together, live. These days so many tracks are phoned in that much of the spontaneity is lost and you get ProTooled at the producer’s discretion and some of your hottest licks may end up in the trash.

Weldon Myrick played some amazing stuff on “I’ll Come Running”, and it most assuredly helped make the song the giant hit that it was, but he didn’t get in the way of Connie’s vocals. Buddy and Jimmy Day played some of the most soulful and tasteful steel guitar intros, turnarounds and fills in the history of recorded music, but they never got in Ray’s way.

So what you want to do is come up with a wicked cool signature lick and play it couple times and lay back for the rest of the song.

If you’ve got an artist gig you’re there to make the singer and the song sound good. (Where have you heard that before?) You should also probably look the part of a successful musician who’s part of the big show, and not stagger out on stage disheveled or drunk… Well, that part may be negotiable these days, what with casual Fridays and all. Torn jeans might be part of the band uniform with some artists. But, hey, remember how impressive the Texas Troubadours and the Buckaroos looked on stage?

Buddy Charleton and Leon Rhodes could scare every musician in the place when it was their turn to do so on “Red Top” or “Honey Fingers”, but when then Ol’ Man stepped up to the mike they became sidemen again.

I saw Buddy backing up Van Howard at the Midnight Jamboree and, man, I don’t know if was planned ahead of time or what, but you could barely notice Buddy unless you were listening for him, and believe me, I was. It was the most tasteful, minimalist performance I’d ever heard. But it was perfect. Well, not perfect for me, because I wanted to hear something astounding, but as far as the overall show was presented – it was perfect. Apparently what Van wanted.

When I went to work for Faron Young in 1980 playing steel guitar he was a little unhappy with the job I was doing, and I didn’t know why, but after a few late night beers with the band on the bus I figured it out. I was playing too much. Yeah, I could play a few hot licks, but they weren’t necessary most of the time. What he wanted was melody lines, even though he didn’t realize it – he just sensed, in that amazing intuitive way that stars have – that something was wrong, but couldn’t put his finger on it, so I started playing the melody and he kept me in Crown Royal for 10 years.

Doing little bars gigs, you’ve got more room for experimenting with your latest licks and just dazzling some other possibly disoriented musician who might have wandered in from Robert’s or Weehawken or somewhere. Overplaying can be fun and even enlightening, at times, especially when you’ve been playing the same 20 songs with some artist for the last 10 years. Faron was fond of mentioning that Doug Jernigan quit him because he got tired of playing “Hello Walls” and “Wine Me Up” every night.

But it still might not be all about you, dang it, at least not for most of the night, although the last set can be an Emmons of a different color sometimes. The singer might have his eye on a hot chick, and if you make her wet her panties with your soulful rendition of “Last Date” it might take too much attention away from him. I guess you could let him sing a verse – Conway sang it in “F” after Papa John started it off rather spectacularly in “C”.

Hal Rugg walked in the door at Legend’s one afternoon when I was finishing up the last set with my band du jour. He was in the next band, and started setting up his steel guitar on the floor a few feet away from me. I played the intro to “Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’” and grinned at him, and he just grinned back. Did I impress him? Not hardly, and I wasn’t trying to, but it was just a way of letting him know that he was one of my idols and that I’d paid attention to his great work over the years. Maybe the guy from Weehawken would be impressed, I don’t know. Every time Weldon walks into a club where I’m playing I do the “Once A Day” intro, and he still gets up and sings with us. It’s all in fun, and if you can’t have fun you might as well be a drummer. (Drum roll, cymbal crash…)

If you want to impress someone, impress yourself. Play a lick better than you did the night before, come up with something you never played before, lock in with the fiddle player, get the best tone you can. There’s more, but you get my drift. It’s not really all about you.

This composition appears in the Nashville Tennessee Steel Guitar Association March newsletter.