Interview: Veteran Bassist Nathan East Celebrates Solo Success with Old Friends, New Documentary

If all you knew about Nathan East was on which albums he’s played, or with which legends he’s performed in concert, you’d fail to appreciate the humanity that accompanies his talent and makes him one of the most respected and sought-after musicians in the world. 

“Music is one of those things that brings us together,” East tells Write on Music. “I’ve found that over the years that I’ve been blessed by becoming friends with people through music.”

In a new documentary, Nathan East: For The Record, the veteran bassist is fêted by many of those friends, including Eric Clapton, Quincy Jones, Phil Collins, Al Jarreau, and Lionel Richie, among others. Ostensibly chronicling East’s life and career to date, the film centers around the making of his long-awaited self-titled solo debut, which was released in March of last year by Yamaha Entertainment Group. 

The album, which topped the Billboard Contemporary Jazz Albums Chart for four weeks — and owned the SmoothJazz.com Top 50 Album Chart for an unprecendented twenty-five weeks — is now up for a GRAMMY® in the category of Best Contemporary Instrumental Album. 

“It’s still a surreal feeling to me,” says East of the nomination. “You try not to think about it, but you think about it. And so when it happened it was just magic.” 

How did you react to seeing some of your peers and mentors sing your praises in the documentary?

To be honest, I cried. I was at the first premiere in New York and we were going to do a Q&A after, and it took me about ten minutes to just regain my composure because I was just very emotionally moved to tears.... It’s usually a memorial service when all these guys are saying these things about you. And when I attend memorial services I think to myself, This person would’ve loved to have known that so many of these people felt like this about them and loved them and articulated that. So it was a very emotional evening — and obviously for many reasons — seeing my family in there, my son who played on the record, and then especially [drummer] Ricky Lawson, who was all over the record. 

That’s a very poignant part of the film that addresses his untimely passing.

It really goes to show you that you never know… We’re not guaranteed anything. You can see the footage of us in the studio. There we are having fun and little did we know that was going to be our last project together.

When you’ve been called on to play with artists who have influenced you and your musical tastes — people like Eric Clapton or Quincy Jones or Stevie Wonder — does it take some getting used to when you’re playing with your heroes?

Well, to this day I’m grateful when those calls come, and the thing that I appreciate the most is that I studied these guys when I was coming up. So to hear from them, for them to become friends, and to work with them — even to this day — I’m saying to myself, “This is still amazing to me.” I still appreciate it. I don’t take any of it for granted. I appreciate their gift and the fact that they look to me to help them with their mission of getting their music out there really to me is still the highest honor. Because I do realize how much time in the early days I spent listening to Quincy Jones and Clapton and Stevie Wonder, studying these parts; my ear went to the bass and really they became part of my DNA. It’s a thrill, I have to say. It’s a total thrill and honor. 

I can only imagine how surreal it must’ve felt, especially early on, playing something like “Sunshine of Your Love” live on stage and looking beside you to see the guy who played on it originally.

The intimidating part early on was I kept hoping in my mind, I hope what I’m doing is good enough. I hope he likes what I’m doing.



Clapton seems very intuitive about what he wants musically and, at the same time, perceptive of those qualities in other players.

As a matter of fact, I remember when I did an instructional DVD called The Business of Bass, and I interviewed a few of these guys like Eric, Phil Collins, Quincy Jones, David Foster, Babyface, producers and artists that I respected. I asked them what was the one thing they looked for most in a musician? The answer was unanimously the same across the board: someone who listens.

Most people, they practice something in their room; they practice a lick. Now they’re going to go down to the band and play that. Without even listening to what’s going on, they’re basically just going to show what they’ve been practicing. That’s not the dialogue. The dialogue is listening. Eric has always appreciated when somebody can almost start to read his mind and know where he’s going to go and then meet him there. That’s one of the things that really, really makes music fun in playing and very interesting and keeps it special. 

In the For The Record documentary, Clapton describes you as being a good listener, actually.

Yeah, he really appreciates that a lot. That’s one of the things — and I’ve been studying these guys forever — when I was coming up my ear would just go to the bass-line on all these tunes. And so when I was in Japan and playing the bass-line to “Taxman” and I looked to my left and there’s George Harrison. That’s crazy! 

George Harrison is sort of an anomaly in the sense that most fans have an idea of what kind of man he was, but they don’t know much about how he worked behind the scenes, particularly in his solo career. What was he like in the studio or in rehearsing for his 1991 tour of Japan? You must’ve felt incredibly privileged to be a part of that.

Oh, yeah, a huge honor to be spending all day with a man like this or the band. You realize how down-to-earth these people are. You laugh and you joke and you break for lunch. You do the same thing you do at any other job, only it’s playing with a Beatle. George was very easygoing. He wasn’t too worried about everything. If you were in the general vicinity of the right notes and chords, he was happy.

As our friendship grew, he would come over to my house here in L.A. and meditate, and I’d think, George Harrison and me, we just meditated together! It was one of those things where you just realize there’s no accident; this is a very special human being. It’s a privilege and an honor and a gift to be in the room with him.

You say he wasn’t particularly fussy if you were in the vicinity of the right notes, but how was he on songs like “Devil’s Radio” or “Got My Mind Set On You”, ones that were as new to him to play as they were to you and the rest of the band at the time?

He was as hard on himself as he was [on the band] because he was kind of learning the chords and re-learning things. He would sit there and go over the changes himself until he got it right. So it was kind of good because we could all learn together. That’s what rehearsal is for, to get everything worked out and then get it tight and ready to play for forty-five thousand people. 

One of your earliest breaks was working with Barry White. I never really thought he got his due for the sheer scope of his skills. He got pegged as an R&B crooner, but he wrote charts and orchestrations... His talent far exceeded that solely of a singer.

You know what? Every note that you heard coming out of those records, he came up with. He would sing the orchestral arrangements to Gene Page that were going through his head. I learned how to write bass-lines from Barry White. I often joke that I went to BWU — Barry White University — because [of] spending every day in the studio with this man and watching him give every single person their part, from the guitar player to the drummer to two bass players. It was an education that I will be forever grateful for because I learned so much from him on how to create bass parts and how, just in general, to put songs together. 

You got to perform live with him, too.

To do something at that early an age, then there’s no doubt in your mind: This is what I want to do. If you can imagine, sixteen years old, sitting at Madison Square Garden or on the stage at the Apollo Theatre in New York to a sold-out audience, it was magic. I had a great learning experience and a great opportunity to see just how it works when a guy like that is at the top. It was like a machine…. He was a very, very creative guy. He came up with all of those parts and titles. It was kind of funny because you’d look at the album credits and literally it’d be, “Cover concept by Barry White. Artwork by Barry White”—

“Spoken intro by Barry White.” I liked how instead of songs with titles like “I Love You,” he’d write something like “It’s Ecstasy When You Lay Down Next To Me.” The titles had, like, fifteen words. 

Right! That’s pretty funny. [Laughs] Oh, I had no idea you were that tuned into him... I was a big fan. 

His music was just always around. I don’t even remember how I first got clued into it. It’s weird how music can do that. It’s like water or something; it’s always been there.

That’s why I always say music is the most magical and spiritual event… You can’t touch it, you can’t smell it. You just feel it.

Back when you were first trying to make your name as a session player, was it mainly by word of mouth that you’d become known to other musicians?

Pretty much. Lionel used to say, “It’s kind of a business of stepping stones.” You really leave your mark behind as soon as you walk out of the studio door. So, whatever you do when you’re in there, make it stick because it’s going to be around for a long time.… Back in the day I’d go across the hall to do a session for the Jacksons. Then I’d jump in and do [one with] Lionel Richie. Then you’d have Phil Collins in the other studio. Clapton in another one. I mean, it was amazing. 

When you show up for a session now — let’s say you haven’t worked with this particular artist, so you’re only familiar with what you’ve heard on the radio — what is your usually your approach? 

It becomes a collaboration, a collaborative effort. A studio is really a place where the music is born, and unless they’ve written every note down and just have a complete, solid, concrete idea in their head that “this is the way it has to be” — which, it still doesn’t turn out like that — then you really take a blank piece of paper or a blank hard drive and it’s like you get your tools out and start painting. Then at some point somebody decides that, “You know what? This is ready. It’s finished. It’s produced. Let’s mix it, master it, and see what happens.” Normally when I come to the studio, it’s been everything from A to Z to where there’s a bass part completely written out there for me to interpret or there’s nothing and I have to come up with it, write it. They’re depending on me to create the bass-line for the song. 

You’re not going to wait long to do your next solo album, are you?

No, we’re working on it right now. This has been the greatest experience connecting with Yamaha Entertainment Group and my buddy and partner, Chris Gero, who’s really told the story [with the documentary, For The Record] in a very classy way. I’ve got to say, he got me into the studio and between the two of us we really tried to come up with something that we would feel would be embraced by the world and do our best effort. 

Nathan East is available now from Yamaha Entertainment Group.

Nathan East: For The Record is currently available to stream on Hulu.

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DVD Review: Eric Clapton - Planes, Trains, and Eric

In interviews of late Eric Clapton has suggested he will retire from touring in the wake of his seventieth birthday next year. And with seven performances scheduled for next May at the Royal Albert Hall commemorating both his seventieth birthday (which actually falls on March 30) and the fiftieth anniversary of his first appearance at the hallowed London venue, the prospect seems all the more likely.

That prospect likewise looms throughout the new Eagle Rock documentary, Planes, Trains, and Eric, which chronicles the music legend’s tour of the Far and Middle East earlier this year. In watching the live footage it’s abundantly clear that should Clapton indeed walk away from the concert stage for good, it won’t be because of a lack of passion or dramatic musical decline. Quite simply, the synergy here between Clapton and his band — bassist Nathan East, keyboardist Chris Stainton, organist Paul Carrack, drummer Steve Gadd, backing vocalists Michelle John and Shar White — is seamless.

Even on the most familiar material — songs like “Cocaine,” “I Shot the Sheriff,” and “Wonderful Tonight” — Clapton’s commitment to his talent and craft is palpable, underscoring that this is a real-time collaborative exchange among these musicians rather than a routine greatest-hits revue. Bits of accompanying rehearsal and soundcheck footage illustrate this further, manifesting in scenes where Clapton repeatedly leads the band through an intro or a chord change until it meets his satisfaction.  

While ostensibly a concert film, some of documentary’s most compelling moments come by way of select commentary in which Clapton reflects on his near life-long kinship with Asian culture. Japan, he notes, occupies a particular and often personal significance in his history spanning four decades of memories, friendships, and performances. At times Clapton seems conflicted about leaving all that behind.

Whether or not to bid farewell to life on the road altogether — and to live performance specifically — no doubt weighs on his mind even more. 

Related Reading:

• An Interview with Nathan East (2014)
• Interview: Jenny Boyd Discusses Updated Book on Creative Process with Insights From Music Legends (2014)
• Interview: Veteran Journalist Chris Welch, Author of Eric Clapton - The Ultimate Illustrated History (2012)
• Interview: Biographer Harry Shapiro on Music Legend Jack Bruce (2010)
• Artist Profile: Listen Up, It's Buddy Guy (2012)

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Interview: Jenny Boyd Discusses Updated Book on Creative Process with Insights From Music Legends

London was swinging. Rock ‘n’ roll had entered one of its most vibrant and visionary phases, with the latest hits by such bands as the Kinks, Cream, and of course the Beatles now reflecting a progressive amalgam of youth-culture adventurism and sonic sophistication. By the time she was a teenager Jenny Boyd was already in the thick of it. A fashion model by trade and, in no time at all, a muse—Boyd was the inspiration for Donovan’s 1968 single “Jennifer Juniper”—she moved among an elite social circle, including some of the era’s most influential musicians who welcomed her within their hallowed ranks.  

Boyd’s modeling career was ultimately short-lived as she soon sought to explore other interests and ambitions, not least of all her academic ones—Boyd holds PhD in Human Behavior. But the relationships she forged in her youth proved fortuitous. Expounding upon what was initially the foundation of her doctoral thesis, Boyd interviewed a total of 75 artists about their craft, including friends and, in some cases, family: Mick Fleetwood is her ex-husband and the father of her two daughters, while George Harrison and Eric Clapton were her brother-in-laws (each respectively having been married to her older sister, Pattie). From these conversations certain key impulses and characteristic distinctions emerged.

“I realized this was something very special,” says Boyd, “and this was something that needed more people to be able to read about this.”

Originally published in 1992 and recently republished and updated, It’s Not Only Rock ‘N’ Roll: Iconic Musicians Reveal the Source of Their Creativity (co-authored with Holly George-Warren) offers a unique, enlightening perspective on a musician’s artistry. 

“I felt so inspired by the musicians’ humility,” says Boyd, “this incredible humility toward the creative process.” 

The creative process is such an enigma to a lot of artists, whether it’s spiritual or supernatural or just unfathomable. What’s striking is that even the most headstrong, mercurial artists, artists who are known for doing things their way—like Stevie Nicks, who is somebody who doesn’t look to some outside source on how to write her songs—yet they will concede that they are not in total control of their art.

And I think they learn that early on especially with the writing because, as you say, they produce this amazing song and wonder where it came from. And so you kind of have to bow down to that in a way. 

Some of the musicians talked about getting the lyrics for their songs while they’re asleep and if they don’t wake up immediately and write it all down or put it on a tape they lose it. Then they hear it again; somebody else has picked it up. It makes you feel like it’s all around us and it’s just a matter of—because they’re more perceptive and receptive—they are able to let it come through them. But if they don’t pick it up somebody else will.  

In speaking with those musicians you were closest to—Mick Fleetwood, Eric Clapton, George Harrison, people who are part of your life just as they are part of this book—was there anything any one of them said that surprised you about his approach to music?

I asked them all the questions if whether they’d experienced this thing [psychologist] Abraham Maslow called “peak experience,” where they would just get into this zone and suddenly whether they were writing they would wonder where that came from or they were playing [live] they would play things they’d never been able to play before, but Eric said he thought he was the only one that had experienced that feeling. Because nobody had ever talked about it before so he didn’t realize that other artists experienced it as well.

Some of these artists—especially Clapton and also Mick Fleetwood in his own way—seem to perceive themselves as being on a mission, and they are indebted to their craft and to whatever interior or exterior forces that encourage it.

They have a sense of destiny and it’s very strong in them. And I do believe that the important part of all of this is the nurturing that they get in childhood, which gives them the belief in themselves and the belief in what they believe in. And so with this sense of destiny somebody who probably hadn’t been nurtured like that and accepted for who they are would not answer the call because they needed to have the sense of self that nurturing gives you and belief in themselves and belief that if they hear a call of destiny that they follow it. 

These artists surrender to their mission. Their talent and technique are factors too, but when they step onto a live stage there’s a mystery component that they surrender to—and that unknown element brings it to another level.

That’s right. I have to say when I was interviewing the late Willie Dixon and went to his home and we talked… He was walking with a stick, and with difficulty in those days; it was not long before he actually passed away. Then Mick [Fleetwood] was playing a blues concert in New York and Willie was there. I was in the audience and Willie came onto the stage with his stick, hobbling as I’d seen him. Then as he started singing his stick came out and he was holding it with two hands and he was dancing on the stage. That magic takes over, and it’s not you anymore. You’re not hobbling or you’re not in pain or you’re not any of those things. I’ve heard that from so many musicians, that once you’re up there it’s like something takes over. 

It’s Not Only Rock ‘N’ Roll: Iconic Musicians Reveal the Source of Their Creativity by Jenny Boyd and Holly George-Warren is published by John Blake Publishing Ltd. 

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An Interview with Nathan East

Lately it seems like everything is going Nathan East’s way. Already this year the renowned and ever-in-demand bassist has picked up five GRAMMY® awards for holding down the groove on Daft Punk’s smash hit single, “Get Lucky,” resumed his long-held station in Eric Clapton’s touring band, and just this week released his long-awaited self-titled solo debut. 

Then again, such touchstones also seem like par for the course for a musician whose credentials include studio sessions with myriad legends and A-listers—George Harrison, Michael Jackson, Phil Collins, B.B. King, Anita Baker, and Lionel Richie, just to name a handful—as well as performances at some of popular music’s most storied events and stages, from mammoth all-star benefits like Live Aid and Knebworth to such fabled venues as the Budokan and the Royal Albert Hall. 

For the new album, East assembled an eclectic roster including Clapton, singer/songwriter Sara Bareilles, and fellow co-founder of jazz supergroup Fourplay, keyboardist Bob James. “It was pretty seamless,” says East, adding that the musicians sought to reflect the spirit of a live performance. The camaraderie among them no doubt facilitated that pursuit and, in doing so, all the more enlivened moments like the retro, coyly titled first single, “Daft Funk,” and a solemn rendition of The Beatles’ “Yesterday,” the latter featuring his 13-year-old son, Noah East, on piano.  

Considering you work from such a broad palette—playing jazz, rock, R&B, soul—did you have any sort of guiding objective about how you wanted this album to sound? Did you want it to reflect you in any certain way especially since it’s your first statement as a solo artist?

Yeah, I was careful about making sure that although it wouldn’t be too much of a diverse statement that it would reflect a celebration of my musical tastes and friends. 

Are there many improvisational moments on the album?

Absolutely. A lot of what happens in the studio is pretty much intuitive and instinctive of what happens on the day whether it’s before or after the record button’s pressed, but the bottom line is by having a band and doing everything live you definitely have more room for improvisation and just whatever spontaneous magic that’s going to take place. 

You’ve got two Stevie Wonder songs on the album [“Sir Duke” and “Overjoyed”]. Beyond just being a fan, what is it about his music or his songwriting that attracts you to his work? 

Honestly I’ve probably been a fan of Stevie’s music for 40 years where it’s always had a special place in my heart. His compositions and his music in general is just a fertile garden of just everything … The soil is good. The fruit is good. Everything’s good about it! 

The amazing thing about Stevie is every song that he writes is different. Like, it sounds like Stevie, but it’s not like the same chord changes or sound. Some writers have a particular key or a particular set of chord changes that they use, but Stevie’s just a fountain. 

That’s him playing harmonica on your version of “Overjoyed,” right? 

Yes it is. We were doing that at a soundcheck at Carnegie Hall one day and I was kind of working that arrangement out and he jumped in there and started playing harmonica. When we finished he said, “If you ever record that let me know. I’d love to play on it.” 

A lot of the people you’ve worked with—Michael Jackson, Eric Clapton, Quincy Jones, Phil Collins—are known for having strong creative instincts. It must take a certain kind of discipline on your part to be able to work with those different types of people.

I’ve definitely learned a lot from working with these kinds of artists. People like Quincy and Phil Collins, these are some work ethics like you’ve never seen before, literally where you can put 14, 16, 18 hours a day into being in a studio and just working hard. I’ve learned that there are no shortcuts and people that are successful in general are hard workers.

Your disposition and personality must factor in as well, knowing when you can contribute something and knowing also when it’s not a good time to do so. Does that just take experience to learn?

Well, those are things that you hopefully learn early on. Music is one of those situations where nobody’s forcing you to be there, so if you can get along with folks and if you come with an attitude of contribution and an uplifting spirit people generally like being around that rather than the opposite. The more I work and the longer I’m in this business the more I realize that that’s a big part of everything as well.

Have you found it useful to have learned to read music when you were a college student?A lot of musicians don’t know how to read music, and I just wonder if it’s been beneficial in your career.

Absolutely. I couldn’t be more grateful for having pursued an education in music and learning how to read music. In those situations where you’re relying strictly on your sight-reading chops for an orchestral date when you’re doing a movie session and 60 pieces are in there and the notes are flying by it feels good to know that you can kind of hang tough with the rest of the gang. 

Does the bass still challenge you?

Very much so. On a daily basis I’m challenged to come up with something that’s interesting and not boring but not overbearing. For me it’s like every song is a chance to say, “Okay, I have another chance to really get it right,” and, “What is the best thing to play for this song?” It’s a constant challenge. 

Do you have any sort of philosophy for playing the bass? Like, Clapton has said he approaches playing the guitar much like a samurai. He steps into the spotlight only when necessary, he uses discretion about when to take a solo, and he tries generally not to overdo anything. Do you have any comparable approach to how you play?

That similar philosophy is one that I approach music with as well. I look at it as a big picture, and not just me. So lots of time I’ll take myself out of the equation and see what the big picture is trying to say and then try to determine what it is that I’m going to bring that’s going to complete that picture. 

You’re serving the song.

Absolutely. That’s the number-one priority is serve the song, and serve the dialog and the communication and the camaraderie.

After all these years how do you maintain your enthusiasm for playing music? You’ve always radiated such warmth and such love for what you do, and I just wonder how you manage to keep that going for all these years and through so many different incarnations of your career.

That’s a great question. The first very obvious answer is that I’ve just been blessed with a very enjoyable cross-section of music that I have the privilege and opportunity to play. There’s not a day that I don’t wake up that I’m not thankful for the privilege of playing music. At the same time, none of the gigs that I’ve had have been gigs where I’m thinking, “I’m just doing this for the money.” Most of them I just absolutely loved the music, the people. I mean, what’s not to love? What’s not to be enthusiastic about?

Nathan East is available now from Yamaha Entertainment Group. For more information, visit NathanEast.com. 

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Album Review: Crossroads Guitar Festival 2013 (2CD)

In April of this year Eric Clapton staged his fourth Crossroads Guitar Festival over back-to-back days at Madison Square Garden, marking the first time the all-star benefit (in support of the Crossroads Centre at Antigua) was held in New York City. In another first, while all four festivals to date (including preceding ones from Dallas and twice from Chicago) are documented on assorted video formats, Crossroads 2013 is also chronicled on a double-disc live album. 

Having serious musical chops is no doubt the prime prerequisite to receiving Clapton’s invitation to this event. Yet even the most proficient artists seem to have upped their game when it came time to play, yielding standout performances from the likes of Gary Clark, Jr. (“When My Train Pulls In”), John Mayer and Keith Urban covering The Beatles (“Don’t Let Me Down”), and the Allman Brothers Band, Warren Hayes, and Derek Trucks covering Neil Young (“The Needle and the Damage Done”). Clapton seems to have upped his game as well, whether in shuffling cool through “Lay Down Sally” with Vince Gill or undulating the blues of “Key to the Highway” with Keith Richards. He summons his most potent moments, though, on Derek & The Dominoes classics “Got to Get Better in a Little While” and “Why Does Love Got to Be So Sad,” the latter with the Allmans. On the whole it’s a wonder that past Crossroads Festivals haven’t found their way onto live albums such as this, but Crossroads 2013 nevertheless has made for a most-enjoyable one.

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Listen Up, It's Buddy Guy

“It’s kind of scary,” says Buddy Guy, his voice quivering with ominous unease. “Blues music is like an endangered species almost.

“The few of us that’s still left,” he adds, “they don’t play our music for some reason much anymore, hardly any.”

Guy, 75, knows of which he speaks. In a narrative steeped with down-home candor reflective of his Louisiana roots, his new autobiography, When I Left Home: My Story, co-written with David Ritz, underscores how amongst the most mythic figures of the Chicago blues he forged his artistry to become one himself—and ultimately one of the last of a dying breed.

He paid his dues as a sideman and session guitarist at various labels, most notably signing in 1959 to Chess Records, home to many of the musicians whose raw and potent sound had provided him a formative influence.

“When I was coming up,” Guy says, “I heard it, and that’s what drew me to play it.”

For nearly a decade he contributed to sides by the likes of Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, and Junior Wells, the latter with whom he’d forge a longstanding musical partnership.

Guy earned his legend, however, as a wild man on the live stage—or on top of bars, tables, chairs, even out on the sidewalk—of whatever nightclub or juke joint that would have him. A whirlwind of skill and flamboyance on the axe, he exhilarated audiences and, in time, an equally passionate retinue of guitarists—Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Jimi Hendrix, and Keith Richards, to name but a few—took notice.

“Jeff Beck and Eric Clapton said they didn’t even know a Strat could be played blues on until they saw me,” Guy notes in a rare but justified moment of immodesty.

While his showmanship proved as influential as it was awe-inspiring, it had always rubbed label president Leonard Chess the wrong way—consequently Guy never really eclipsed his supporting-role status as a recording artist at Chess—but the emergent popularity of blues rockers from Cream to the Jimi Hendrix Experience in the latter half of the ‘60s turned him around.

“Chess sent Willie Dixon to my house,” Guy remembers of being summoned to what turned out to be his boss' about-face. “I had never been in the office.”

Upon his arrival, Guy recalls, “He bent over and said, ‘I want you to kick me.’

“I said, ‘For what?’

“He said, ‘You’ve been trying to give us this fucking shit all your life and we’ve been holding you back. This shit is hot.’”

Guy ended up leaving the label in 1968 in search of more-promising opportunities, but despite his efforts he struggled to find his musical footing for years thereafter.

“My children didn’t know who I was until they turned 21 and walked in the blues club and said, ‘Dad, I didn’t know you could play like that,’” Guy says.

It wasn’t until the late ‘80s, in fact, with such albums as Sweet Tea and Damn Right, I’ve Got The Blues that he began to reap the recognition he had so long deserved. Depending on your perspective, his music was played on the radio because it sold—or his music sold because it was played on the radio.

Regardless, Guy insists, “You never know what’s gonna be ear-catching or finger-popping until it go out there.”

There is seemingly no reward without risk for Guy, and even at this current phase of his career he relishes the chance to defy convention and exceed expectation.

He also refuses to grow complacent. “If I thought I knew enough on my guitar I’d be going out the world backwards,” he says. “You never get too old to learn.”

It’s a philosophy that keeps him hungry and encouraged—and leaves his disciples more and more amazed.

“I think he’s still evolving,” says George Thorogood, who has shared stages and traded licks with Guy over the years. “Every time I hear him he’s more supernatural than the last time I heard him.”

Guy is a six-time GRAMMY® winner, his most recent win coming in 2010 for Living Proof in the category of Best Contemporary Blues Album. He’s been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Blues Hall of Fame. And he is a recipient of the National Medal of Arts, the honor perhaps most indicative of his significance.

All told he is a master at his craft, but he characteristically downplays such accolades and acclaim. “Stuff you read about ‘Buddy Guy’s a legend’ and all that,” he says, “man, that’s something they give you.”

The proof is in the pudding, so to speak. Or, as Guy sums it up, “I’ve got a restaurant in Chicago. I may sit here and tell you how good my gumbo is because I’m from Louisiana, but you still ain’t gonna know ‘til you taste it. That’s the way the music is.”

When I Left Home: My Story by Buddy Guy with David Ritz is published by Da Capo Press.

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Interview: Chris Welch, Author of Eric Clapton: The Ultimate Illustrated History

Even in his formative stages Eric Clapton was earning a rapturous, rabid following and inspiring generations of guitarists to come. “He was already a star,” says veteran music journalist and author Chris Welch. “Even then as a teenager, people were talking about Eric.”

Welch was one of them. A reporter at British music weekly Melody Maker and still a teenager himself at the time, he first chronicled Clapton as a founding member of the Yardbirds. “I went to a club in South London called the Bromel Club, just a hotel gig, very small little bar and not many people there,” Welch recalls of one such occasion. “The band were playing ‘Smokestack Lightning’ and all those songs the Yardbirds specialized in. They finished to mild applause. Eric looked quite fed up. So I went up to him and said, ‘Well, you look fed up. What’s the matter?’ And he said, ‘Oh, you noticed, did you?’ a bit sarcastically.”

The two hit it off and a friendship ensued, one which has witnessed Clapton’s many incarnations — from stints in the Yardbirds and John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers through supergroups Cream and Blind Faith to subsequent solo endeavors — as well as Welch’s journalistic career to date. Writing at Melody Maker and later NME, among other publications, he’s also penned biographies on such rock icons as Jimi Hendrix, David Bowie, Led Zeppelin, and Cream.

In his latest book, Clapton: The Ultimate Illustrated History, Welch comes full circle in a sense, surveying Clapton’s life and career while offering firsthand reflections along the way. Interspersed throughout the narrative are rare and renowned photographs along with images of vintage concert posters in kaleidoscopic brilliance and, most striking of all, the arsenal of guitars behind the music of this seminal blues-rock artist. 

In the preface of the book you write about Eric in those early days as striking you like a man on a mission, of him having a certain discipline about what he was doing. 

He always gave the impression of being more serious about what he was playing than the other guys in the band. They’d all be jumping about like school kids, really. Eric was much more focused and serious about the blues and what he wanted to do. He never felt like he quite fit in with any of the groups he was in at that point, I don’t think. He was always very restless and slightly detached from the band. 

What initially drew you to his playing? What distinguished him, even in the beginning, from the other guitarists in Britain at that time? 

Most people were still playing in the old-fashioned way, like the Shadows and groups like the Ventures in America; that kind of echoing rock ‘n’ roll guitar style, rather nervous and jerky, staccato playing. Not really steeped in the blues at all. It was only Eric, really, and a few others—there was a guy called Alexis Korner, who played [blues] guitar as well—but none of them really matched Eric’s ability. Because not only was he a just a very good guitar player; he suddenly managed to absorb the sound and real spirit of the blues. He’d been listening to records, of course—Freddie King and B.B. King—and that’s really how he learned, but miraculously he absorbed that style and sound and made it his own. 

Ray Charles said once, “I never wanted to be famous. I only wanted to be great.” Eric seems to have shared the same ethic. 

Exactly, yes, that’s true. He always found the whole pop scene very amusing. I think when Cream became successful they certainly did enjoy that fleeting, couple of years of pop fame. I mean, you couldn’t not enjoy it; it was such a good time for everybody. They wanted Cream to be a success and to be recognized, obviously, but they still wanted to do it playing their music, not compromising with the music. 

The Band’s Music From Big Pink was ultimately a catalyst for Eric to break up Cream. 

It was a big turnaround, because Cream had been locked into a corner where people expected them to be playing “Steppin’ Out” and “Toad” and lots of guitar solos at high speeds all the time every night. Eric understandably got a bit sick of being cast in that role as the superhero guitar player. He could do it, but night after night it wore a bit thin. As you say, when first he heard Music From Big Pink, he could see a different way of approaching the guitar and music, slowing down a bit, playing with a bit more relaxed feel. I remember he actually played me the album while I was interviewing him. He had a flat in Chelsea. And that’s when he was telling me Cream were going to break up and this was the kind of music he wanted to play… [but] he said, “You can’t tell anybody yet. This is top secret.” So I had to wait for a few weeks before it was officially announced. But that was a pivotal moment, you’re right. 

Eric and Jack Bruce and the other musicians of that lot seemed not so much celebrity or fame-seeking but rather like tradesmen pursuing their craft. 

They always wanted to learn more and study their instruments…. They were a very competitive sort of people. They all came from that revivalist thing in Britain where people wanted to pick up on the best of American music and find the source and play it to the best of their ability. Rather than just being in pop music, which is totally commercialized and aimed at the charts and instant popularity and fame, these were people who were sincere about their musical ambitions. And that really was why the public would recognize that eventually and why they became so hugely successful. There was truth in what they were playing. 

They ended up being more successful than the ones seeking commercial fame. 

That’s the irony of it, isn’t it? The public at large recognized that what they were hearing was the real thing. It was sincere, important music that they were playing—well, at the start it was—whereas people could see through all the sort of instant-pop nonsense. [Laughs] They weren’t seeking success, necessarily, but somehow it was thrust upon them. 

You’ve known Eric for so long, where do you draw the line between journalism and friendship? If you catch him in a performance and he’s just not really into it, do you write that? 

Very difficult, yes. I have done it in the past. He went through a patch when he wasn’t really trying terribly hard, during the drinking period…. I remember writing a piece about him at this gig in London, which was rather critical actually. But he accepted it. There were no sort-of bitter complaints. I remember seeing him with Elton John at Wembley Stadium; that wasn’t a particularly good gig either. 

There’s a quote from Eric in your book in which he says, “I really don’t rank myself very highly in any of the fields I work in.” Do you think he acknowledges his skill? 

He once described himself to me as a musical laborer. Eric’s always been a pretty modest guy, really. It is very difficult, isn’t it, if you’re being praised to the hills and then you get knocked back by criticism? It leaves you in a confused state. But generally speaking, I would say that he’s well aware of his technical abilities as a guitar player. You don’t get that good by not working at it; and he must be satisfied with his own playing. I think what Eric has learned to do over the years, if you listen to his playing, is how to construct a solo and, [also], editing his own work. Not like those guitar players who go on forever and ever and never stop improvising endlessly, trying to baffle everybody. He’s an artist in that sense. What we’re talking about is an artist who knows how to make the best use of his talents. 

Chris Welch

Clapton: The Ultimate Illustrated History by Chris Welch is published by Voyageur Press, an imprint of MBI Publishing Company, 2011.

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An Interview with Susan Tedeschi & Derek Trucks

It was after a concert this past New Year’s Eve, remembers guitarist Derek Trucks, when he and his wife, singer/guitarist Susan Tedeschi, both recognized that after several experiments with different configurations of musicians they’d finally assembled the best-possible band with which to pursue their shared musical vision. “When we got off stage, me and Susan both knew,” he says. “We were like, ‘This is it. This is what we’ve been trying to get to.’”

The result is Revelator, released this week by the newly formed Tedeschi Trucks Band. Recorded at the couple’s home studio in Jacksonville, Florida, the album brims with the soulful spirit and grit of classic rhythm and blues, gospel, and rock ‘n’ roll.

It also brims with musicians, nearly a dozen in all. “There’s a little bit of, ‘Oh, shit, what have we created — this eleven-piece monstrosity?’” Trucks says, laughing, “but it’s hard to go back once you hear that and feel that.”

What expectations did you have going into it as far as what you wanted the album to sound like?

Trucks : It was just continually writing until we found songs that worked. They were songs that we both felt really great about, and they were really comfortable. Working with the different songwriters was amazing. The whole process was really natural and fun. And I felt like we were always moving forward and working toward something. Probably six months into putting this idea and concept in motion we had fifteen tunes that we felt really good about. Any other time in our careers I think we would’ve just recorded them and that would’ve been the record. With this, we kept pushing until we got to maybe thirty-five, forty tunes and then from that original fifteen — that A list — we probably ended up using two, maybe three songs on the final record. We kept knocking songs that we really liked off the list with songs we liked more, which was for me a unique situation to be in. I’ve always been on the road three-hundred days a year and when you get twelve songs you record them, and there’s your record. This was a totally different thing.

Did each of you have to sacrifice any aspect of your respective styles in making this album together?

Tedeschi: Honestly I don’t think I had to sacrifice anything. We wrote the whole record together and it’s all stuff that I would do on any of my projects. I don’t really feel like I did anything different. It’s interesting a lot of people think that. But at the end of the day, yes, Derek improvises longer solos than I would, but I love to improvise too. And I love all the aspects of all the different styles of music on the record. A lot of the songs on the record are stuff I would’ve naturally done anyway, if the songs were there. So I don’t feel like it was that different. For me it was just more fun because I got to hang out with my husband more.

Trucks: We really wanted to spend as much time as it took to naturally get there instead of having ideas and trimming them to fit this mold. We just kept writing. We knew what we wanted to do, but whenever you have a concept [and] putting it into motion it changes a thousand times before you get to where you end up. We wanted to be really open with that and just kind of let it happen. The upside was we had this great studio behind our house, and we know a lot of musicians that are basically family that are world-class musicians that we could keep writing and recording with. We didn’t want to rush it.

How long was it from when you two had the original spark of an idea to having the album written and recorded?

Trucks: It was a solid year-and-a-half. Knowing what we wanted to do and the level that we wanted it to be [at], at least musically, we went into it just not wanting to rush it. I think we felt like, definitely for the first time, but it might be the only window we have from here on out to actually take our time and really do something. We felt like it’s kind of now or never. Our kids are a little bit older where we can just jump in. We can be home for six months and write and write and record and write. Every step of the process we were recording, and luckily Bobby Tis — him and his father helped me and my brother build the studio — he moved down here and he also engineered the record. So twenty doors down from our house, Bobby was there if there was an idea or anything we wanted to record or tweak. At any hour we could go out into the studio and work. We dove into that and really enjoyed the process and wanted to make sure the band chemistry was right. You can think on paper what’s gonna work and throw it out there. You just don’t know until you gig it. We spent the better part of last year trying different things and seeing what worked, and not really boxing ourselves in until we felt a hundred percent confident with what we were doing. The risk of that is some people see an early incarnation of the band and think that’s what it is. So you’re running against perception. That’s just the nature of the beast. It’s a much longer arc that we’re looking at.

Because so much of what you both do is on the concert stage, was there any consideration during the songwriting and recording phases of how well these songs would translate live?

Trucks : One of the reasons I feel great about this project is that there was this kind of maturity/confidence [among the musicians] that we know that that’s going to be okay. We know that there’s enough talent and firepower that we can take any song and make it fly live. So there really wasn’t that concern. I think for the very first time I wasn’t worried about any of that. Even if it had to be drastically different live, it was gonna be great. One of the reasons we did a lot of the writing with just me and Susan and another writer with acoustic guitars was [that] with a band that plays this well together, you kind of run the risk [that] you could have a mediocre song and think it’s great because the band makes it sound great. So I wanted to make sure the songs themselves were great, would hold water. Because I knew once we put the band on it, it was gonna make us think it was really good. [Laughs] I felt the proof was in the demos. The songs were put down in the barest state. And we chose songs that way, like, “This song holds up with an acoustic guitar and a vocal.”

It has integrity.

Trucks: Yeah. So we went into the recording process feeling really good about the material, knowing that we had a really good list of tunes to choose from. And we had a group of tunes that we knew worked well together, just listening to the demos. Then when you get the band to sink their teeth into it, the layers are there. It’s three-, four-, five-dimensional.

There’s a kind of selflessness to the way you play guitar, Derek. It seems more for the greater good of the song or performance than it is to be a superstar soloist — even though you have the chops to do that. Do you have any particular philosophy as far as how you approach playing the guitar?

Trucks: I think that’s the overarching view of it for me, especially with a band like this where there’s so much firepower between Susan and Oteil [Burbridge, bassist] and the rhythm section. I just feel like whatever it takes to make that fly, whatever it takes to make that shine… I’m always of the mindset that a guitar solo — whatever solo it is — needs to be in the spirit of the tune or in the music, and it’s not supposed to completely distract from it. I think maybe from growing up in blues bars and seeing a thousand Stevie Ray Vaughan rip-offs and guitar wankery, I’m scared to ever be that. [Laughs] I try to go out of the way to not do that. Any time you’re soloing and improvising, especially on the electric guitar, you run the risk of going down that road. I try to be really conscious of that. Playing with Eric [Clapton], seeing B.B. [King], some of these guys who give you exactly what you need, a lot of times they leave you wanting more. That’s been a big lesson. I haven’t quite gotten there yet, but I love the fact that when B.B. solos — especially in his prime — when he finishes you’re like, “You’re not done. Keep going.” He kind of withholds it from you; he knows it’s there. So that’s always an inspiration.

Susan, what inspires you to sing the blues, in particular?

Tedeschi: I enjoy anything that tells a story, anything that has meaning or soul. I think a lot of people are misled that I’m just a blues singer or a blues guitarist. Actually, I grew up singing country and rock and pop and R&B and everything. When I went to college I didn’t even know about blues other than country-blues that my dad had turned me on to. I mean, I’ve been a singer my whole life. And I feel as a singer, other than opera, I don’t have too many styles that I don’t really do. I think they come off maybe a little bit more bluesy, a little bit more gospel, just because that’s my interpretation of the music. At the end of the day, I love singing anything from Hank Williams, Sr. to John Prine and Bob Dylan. Most of those artists you wouldn’t necessarily think of as blues artists. The sky’s the limit when it comes to styles of music with the two of us. I think Derek has a little more of an outreach into world music and Indian, classical, styles like that, but I’ve never been afraid to jump in. I think they’re all amazing. As long as it’s good music I don’t have any problems with it. Definitely he’s a little more exploratory when it comes to jazz and things like that, but I went to a jazz college, so I’m used to being around it. It’s not like it’s so new and out there for me. I definitely enjoy emoting more in blues styles, things like that.

You’re used to having versatility.

Tedeschi: Yeah, definitely. I think in the last ten years I’ve gone more blues because I found a nook with it. I found a comfort zone there. There was more of a market for it, a more realistic market for me at the time when I was first getting into it. But I love singing everything. If it’s a good song I’ll sing it. Really there’s not any blues on this record, if you think about it.

But your voice does have an R&B/blues/gospel resonance that lends not necessarily to the blues form but to its attitude.

Tedeschi: Right. I just think that’s because I’m more of a fan of people like Ray Charles, people who are also versatile with styles of music but have a more soulful voice. I definitely think that could be why that’s interpreted that way. A lot of my favorite singers are soul singers: Ray Charles and Aretha and Donny Hathaway and Otis Redding.

As far has recording in your home studio — obviously it allowed you both to be with your family more — but it seems to have creatively worked to your benefit. There are countless, notorious stories of artists over-laboring in situations like that, though, just obsessing over little things that in the end don't matter.

Trucks: I think when you mix unlimited budgets with the wrong drug, you run into that. [Laughs] We don’t have that problem. We’re used to banging it out and hitting the road. Even though me and Susan are home, we realize that if the other band members are down here they have families and they’re not home. So we make sure that when we’re here, we’re working. No, we didn’t run into that. If anything, it allowed us to treat this record like a major record. I don’t think the budgets, [with] the way they are these days, we’d have been able to spend a tenth of the time on the record if we had to go to a major recording studio and knock it out in six or eight days. It let us pretend that we were a major, major act. [Laughs] We got to take our time and do it right. And that was only because we had the studio and, really, the musicians that were a part of it being willing to come down. But, yeah, I always keep that in the back of my mind, those exact stories you’re talking about. Luckily, or maybe by design, everybody in this group — even Jim Scott, who co-produced the record — we’re all from the school of “if it feels good, it’s good.” Most of the time, that’s gonna be first, second, third take. And if you don’t get it in the first, second or third take, you move on to something else and you come back to it. Or maybe that song’s not supposed to be on the record.

Susan, can you perceive any arc over the course of your career of how you’ve progressed or improved as a musician? Is that something you take stock of?

Tedeschi: Yeah, in the last fifteen years I’ve come a long way as a musician just because I’ve been able to play an instrument along with the band. I’ve been singing on stage since I was six, and I didn’t really start playing guitar on stage — especially electric guitar and really learning the guitar — until I was in my twenties. So it was in the last twenty years that I’ve just grown a ton, and I keep growing. Especially playing with Derek and Oteil now, I’m growing more all the time as a musician. I think as a singer I’m always growing too. The one thing about being a musician is that you never know everything. There’s always tons to learn and there’s always so many ways you can improve and things you can do to be a better listener and a better team player, as they say.

Knowing that you have more to learn and more to gain is an attribute in itself.

Tedeschi: I think so too. Every day I keep figuring out new stuff and new ways to be an accompanist and back Derek up while he’s soloing, to make his solos more epic. [Laughs] Because I think he’s so great at what he does that it’s nice to have some people behind him that can support him. He doesn’t always get that. He doesn’t always have a guitar player playing rhythm parts behind him that necessarily help with what he’s doing. I think Oteil is very good at it because he’s been playing with him in the Allman Brothers for a long time. Oteil is also a phenomenal musician, where he has amazing ears; and his brother, Kofi [Burbridge, keyboardist and flautist], as well. And so I feel very blessed that I get to be in a band with the three of them, because now I can learn how to do some of those tricks with them; like how to be more discreet at the beginning of a solo and then build it from behind, things like that. Whereas in the past I’ve only really used it as a tool to back up myself while I’m singing, and then play a solo. And I haven’t always had guitar players there to back up what I do either. I’ve always had to do it on my own.

I definitely think I’ll be learning more and I’ll be experimenting more. It’s just going to get to the point, though, where I feel like I’m going to want to be a little bit more included, like when it comes to Derek and improvising and playing solos, because I really love doing that too. I don’t think I really get a chance to do it too much just because there’s so many people in the band and there’s only so much time. And I feel like I’m already occupying a lot of the space, singing. When you have one of the best guitar players in the world in the band it’s hard to… That’s the one thing I think I really give up is playing guitar as much, like soloing and being able to improvise and break out.

That comes with confidence, though. You’ll learn to assert yourself more as time goes on.

Tedeschi: Honestly I have the confidence. It’s just hard because I’m married to the guy that I have to have the confidence with. It’s different. If it’s anybody other than Derek, I’m fine. I have all the confidence in the world. I mean, I’ve played with B.B. King and George Benson and Buddy Guy. I play with people all the time, but with Derek it’s different because he’s thinking on a different level. He doesn’t think the same as someone like B.B. King or George Benson even.

On the flip side, though, Derek would be the most empathetic to your ambition.

Tedeschi: I don’t know, though. I think he’s in the mindset, like, “Hey, lay out here,” sometimes, which is great for the music, but sometimes I just want to be included more. I think that’s because I had older brothers, growing up. I’m one of those people, I just want to be included. [Laughs] I just want to play.

(First published at Blogcritics.)

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