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Danny Gatton Corner

A WORD FROM THE MANAGEMENT: To view older entries, just hit the "Archive" button, followed by the relevant headline link on each entry. As you'll see, there's a lot to check out!
Latest Archive
Here&#39;s how the view looked from the crowd that night, for Ronnie Joyner and company... <br /> Here&#39;s how the proceedings looked when Danny (left) took the stage with Billy Hancock (center), and Dave Elliott (rear, on drums). As Ronnie says, note the difference in crowd size as the night wore on! But no matter who played, it looks like a good time was had by all, as the saying goes. (Photo courtesy of Ronnie Joyner) <br /> (Photo courtesy of Ronnie Joyner) <br /> (Photo courtesy of Ronnie Joyner) <br />
"IT'S ALRIGHT, REST EASY, DAN" (PT. II):: RONNIE JOYNER SHARES MORE GATTON-RELATED MEMORIES
May 5, 2025

As I mentioned in my last entry on this website, the experience of writing Unfinished Business: The Life & Times Of Danny Gatton (Backbeat Books: 2003) gave me more than just the opportunity to tell a great musical story. While music is obviously the book's major focus, with Danny at the center, Unfinished Business also emerged as a great human interest story, especially from a broader cultural perspective. 

Many of the comments I've gotten have remarked on how vividly my book evoked the era that it covered, from the '60s to the '90s, starting with the venues that have since been cosigned to the memories of those who played there, like Danny, or were simply regulars show goers -- names like The Bayou, The Cellar Door, The Crazy Horse, and so on -- and how the scene they sprung up around them operated.

As many of my interviewees commented, Washington, DC wore its contrarian colors proudly, being a place where the likes of Carl Perkins could tour regularly, long after their initial hitmaking days had passed. In that spirit, it wasn't hard at all to imagine Danny's first independent release, Redneck Jazz, outpacing the Rolling Stones's Some Girls, the hottest album of 1978! Whether that memo -- or the resulting sales reports -- got back to Jagger Central, I've no idea, but it wouldn't have been hard to imagine his reaction, if it had: "Hey, just who is this Gatton guy, exactly? Somebody find out what's going on!"

In many ways, Unfinished Business also evokes a simpler time, when vinyl records, the stores that sold them, and the maze of clubs, large and small, ruled the roost of Anytown USA's local musical universe, when only three national networks existed -- and if your local TV station really felt daring, it signed off at 2:00 a.m., instead of midnight! It was also an era of when "the band" definitely existed as a grouping of specific, uniquely talented individuals, and how the loss of one or two of them could mark a major shift in your allegiances. The same story held true for those precious pieces of black plastic, whose contents often made (or broke) reputations at a single stroke. 

I'm appreciative to all my interviewees, large or small, cult or major label alike, who took the time to detail that era, and how Danny's life and times fit into it. I naturally wound up with many more anecdotes and stories than I had room to accommodate, which is why I appreciate hearing from fans who contact me to drop over them over the virtual transom (so to speak).

In that spirit, picking up from where Part I left off, Ronnie offers some Gatton-related recollections and stories that, while not specifically about the man himself, shed some additional light about him, and the scene that he inhabited. Enjoy, and to anyone else -- all I can say is, "Keep 'em comin'!"

"MY TALL POMPADOUR
AND PEGGED JEANS TIPPED HIM OFF":
THE FLEA BOPS' LIFE & TIMES (8/23/21 email)
Darren Lee Spears was an amazing rockabilly singer fronting a buzz-generating up-and-coming local band here called Go Cat Go. Man, Darren could sing like Elvis and Carl Perkins rolled into one, and while he was just 27 in 1993, the year of the benefit, he was writing some cool original songs. The drummer in that band was Lance LeBeau, who would also be the drummer in Flea Bops for the entire run of our band (1991 - present).

One day I was in the auto parts store buying some struts, when a prematurely bald, gray-haired, gray-bearded, portly guy in a Sun Records T-shirt came up to me and asked me if I liked rockabilly. My tall pompadour and pegged jeans tipped him off. I said yeah, and he told me about a gig his band was playing locally that night. His name was Bill Hull, and he was their guitar player.

Long story short, I saw them, was blown away at how good they were, and fell into their fold. A secondary band (Flea Bops) was started, featuring me on vocals and rhythm guitar, Lance on drums, Lance’s brother (Preston) on electric guitar, and Lance’s wife (Wendy) on upright bass. The two bands often gigged side-by-side for two years, but Go Cat Go was going to go national on some level, while Flea Bops still needed a lot of seasoning.

But then, Darren was shot and senselessly murdered in a robbery...and then, the benefit gig with Danny. What’s interesting, though, is that less than a year before Darren was killed, Paul (my mom’s husband, and Danny's hot rod buddy) took Danny a copy of Go Cat Go’s six-song vinyl EP (pictured on the poster). According to Paul, Danny was blown away by Darren.

Danny asked Paul to talk to me about getting Darren to record a few songs with Danny. I went to Go Cat Go with this request. Darren was thrilled, needless to say, but there was some uneasiness about this with the rest of the band, for obvious reasons. But I went back to Paul and told him yes. Paul told Danny yes...and Darren was killed soon thereafter, nixing the collaboration forever.

Now, Danny had already done the play-with-the-rockabilly-singer thing with Robert Gordon and Johnny Seaton. And while I think Darren was much more talented than those guys (no slight intended to either of them), I’m sure the Danny/Darren collaboration would not have financially netted much more for either of them, than it had previously netted for Danny while with Seaton or Gordon — but there would have been some good music made. Oh well…

 

LAST (BUT NOT LEAST): REMEMBERING PAUL ALSOP,
CAR FLIPPER 'N' CHICKEN PICKER (8/17/21 email)
Lastly, I’ll share one more piece of information about Danny that is, again, typical of my life “around” him, but not directly involved with him. It’s not a story “about" Danny, but someone like you who spent so much time writing your book would find it interesting.

So, my dad, the man who introduced me to Danny’s music, died pretty young at age 40. in 1984. My mom got remarried a couple years later to a guy named Paul Alsop. Paul, also from Oxon Hill, was an auto body man, a hot rod builder, a car flipper, an artist, a left-handed in-the-garage Tele chicken-picker — and worshipper of Danny Gatton.

He was a unique individual, to be sure, but a sometimes difficult personality to deal with. Bipolar. My mom and Paul were the owners of the Charlotte Hall house where I now live. Paul was in Danny’s circle of hot rod guys. He was a regular down at Danny’s garage, but rarely would Danny be up here, according to my mom. But those years Paul was hanging out with Danny were lost opportunities for me to get to know Danny personally.

Relationships are tricky things, and I guess I thought it was best not to elbow in on Paul’s relationship with Danny — but I regret that now that both are long gone. Paul died back in 2016. My wife and I sold our house and moved into Mom and Paul’s house. My mom is now in Florida.

Paul's garages here looked like something out of "American Pickers." Filled with signs, odds and ends, cars, guitars, amps — anything cool. Paul had a couple of Danny’s old vehicles in the garage here. Paul also had one of Danny’s prototype Telecasters. I think he bought it from Danny or traded a car or body work for it. Paul was forced to sell it when he was battling cancer in 2015 and could no longer earn a living. It came with a detailed letter from Billy Hancock, verifying its authenticity to the guy who bought it. I still have the letter if you’re curious and want to see it.

My mom let the auctioneers come in and sell everything in the garages. She was overwhelmed by the task of dealing with the stuff in there, so she just trusted them to be fair. God knows what else of Danny’s was in here. I stayed out of the loop and let her do it her way.

The only thing I have left of Danny’s (oddly enough being that these auctioneers seem to know what’s what) is a Leslie cabinet that toured with Danny in the early 1990s. The access panel has Jay Monterose’s schematic drawn on it, as well as the notes of the tour and Jay’s signature. It’s pretty cool, but it’d take some doing to get it in shape again. I also have a few of Danny’s old hot rod car Maryland state registrations for the 1956 Ford he owned in the 1970s/80s.

Paul was involved in the Sam’s Crab House tribute show organization, and I think he was also involved in at least one of the Tramps tribute shows. I still have a gold-colored left-handed Tele that was presented to Paul at one of those shows. It’s signed to Paul by most everyone who played there.

One last thing. Billy Hancock actually lived in this house for six months or so. He and his wife rented a room from Paul. I used to see Billy here from time to time and we’d talk a little. Shortly after Paul died and before the auctioneers rolled in here, Billy showed up one day. We talked a bit, then he got around to the point. Did I still have his old 1959 Danelectro guitar and his Tex-Rubinowitz-custom-made electric bass?

Those were prized possessions of Paul’s. I’m guessing Billy needed some money and sold them to Paul, but Billy was telling me how he’d love to have them back in the family. He said he bought the Danelectro when he was 12 years old, with money from his paper route.

Well, they were Paul’s, not mine, so I went into the garage and dug them out and gave them to Bill. Needless to say, he was a happy guy that day as he drove off in his 1990s vintage tank — maybe a Caprice? He’s gone now, too, but I’m glad he was reunited with those instruments for awhile again.

Here&#39;s the T-shirt that Ronnie Joyner mentions in his email -- which he designed for the tribute show to Danny, held at Sam&#39;s Crab House (Clinton, MD), on November 12, 1994, after his passing. Courtesy of Ronnie Joyner.
"IT'S ALRIGHT, REST EASY, DAN": RONNIE JOYNER SALUTES DANNY GATTON IN SONG (PT. I)
May 4, 2025

The passage of time is a complicated and mysterious thing. It's something we never think about, until some anniversary or other reminds us of its passing – and forces us to think about our mortality. However, it can also lend a dose of perspective that's hard to come by, when the latest, greatest phenomenon in any creative field is enjoying their day in the sun.

This is especially true of popular music, where today's trend quickly becomes tomorrow's curiosity, such as the solo crooners and quirky instrumentals that served as the soundtrack of British life in the early '60s – before the Beatles dropped their first single, “Love Me Do,” and changed that equation forever.

Though much of its sales were concentrated around the Fab Four's Liverpool stronghold, every guitarist who heard “Love Me Do” now had to think about learning to sing, and write their own songs – or risk falling behind in the race of chart success.

On the flipside, there are plenty of musicians who never become household worlds, but persist in people's memories, long after they pass on. So it is with Danny Gatton, who left us too soon in 1994 – yet remains an influential name among guitar players, although he never scored a Top 40 pop hit, and rarely toured nationally. In his lifetime, much of his exposure came through his two major homegrown releases, Redneck Jazz (1978), and Unfinished Business (1987) – which served as the title of my book.

I've covered cult heroes of all shapes and sizes in my writing career, but the aura surrounding Danny Gatton -- and his jaw-dropping instrumental ability – puts him near the top of that list. We're closing on 20 years since Unfinished Business: The Life & Times Of Danny Gatton saw the light of day, yet I still get emails at a steady clip to this website.

Every now and then, however, you get one that reminds you of why you did the work. Ronnie Joyner's email (August 16) is only the latest such example. He's recorded a fine, rockabilly-driven tribute, “It's Alright, Rest Easy, Dan,” whose dclivery – and chorus – tells you what you need to know: “Well, listen now, I feel you near, I got a message that you'll want to hear/It's alright, rest easy, Dan – everything's fine, with Holly, and Jan.” You can hear it at the link – which you can cut and paste below, or hit from my Links page.

You'll want to hear Ronnie's other songs, like “Girl Too Beautiful,” about the doomed Twenties silent screen idol, Barbara LaMarr – which he's posting at a steady clip on his YouTube page. (See that link, too, for further reference.)

But like all true deep divers, Ronnie didn't leave it there – he also shared his thoughts about what inspired “It's Alright,” followed by his own recollections about Danny's life and legacy.

I post them here, because they definitely show – along with the other various bits and pieces on the “Danny Gatton” corner section of this website – the depth of his legend, whether you know him as “The Humbler,” “The Master Blaster of the Telecaster,” or “The Telemaster.” Enjoy, dig in, and remember, there's always room for one more.

 

RONNIE JOYNER: WRITING “IT'S ALRIGHT” (8/16/21 email)
Hi, Ralph — my name is Ronnie Joyner! I’m from DC, but I live down in Charlotte Hall, just 10 minutes from where Danny Gatton lived in Newburg. I’m a singer and rhythm guitar player in a rockabilly band called Flea Bops — and have been since 1992. My band opened for Danny a couple times at Tornado Alley in Wheaton, Maryland.

I don’t know why it took me so long to read your book about Danny, but I finally read it about six months back and I thoroughly enjoyed it. What an epic accounting you did of Danny’s life and career. Invaluable! Reading your book recharged my consciousness about Danny, so I got the urge to do what I usually do when that happens — write a song and make artwork.

The COVID-19 layoff from gigging encouraged me to finally learn GarageBand so I could start recording demos of my original songs that have been piling up. It’s been fun and I’ve uploaded about 21 songs to YouTube over the last year.

So, I wrote a song about Danny. My son played electric guitar on the recording and I gave him the direction to play like Danny (haha — impossible!), and he did a pretty good job. I told him to play with the vibe of what Danny played on “Driving Wheel,” right down to paying homage to Danny’s lead break, which is a lick Danny liked to play over and over throughout his career.

Meanwhile, I did an illustration of Danny that I used for the page graphic on the YouTube “video.” It’s not really a video — it’s really just a static image — but it looks pretty cool.

Incidentally, my band played at the Sam’s Crab House tribute, and I designed/illustrated the commemorative t-shirt for the event.

Anyway, for obvious reasons, I thought you might enjoy checking it out: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIofzO07HSA.

 

GROWING UP WITH DANNY (8/16/21 email)
“It’s Alright, Rest Easy, Dan” is a song I wrote about guitar legend Danny Gatton. The Telemaster. The Humbler. By the time of his death in 1994 at age 50, Danny was recognized by many folks as arguably the greatest guitar player ever. While I didn’t know Danny, he was in the orbit of my life for as long as I can remember because of my father.

My dad loved hot guitar, and Danny could play some hot-ass guitar. Plus, Danny was from the same Washington, DC neighborhood as my dad. Dad was two years older than Danny. They didn’t know each other, but Dad knew all about the kid from Elmira Street who was a guitar burner in the still-early days of rock-n-roll in the late 1950s. Dad was born on January 17, 1943 and Danny was born on September 4, 1945.

Oddly enough, Danny and I share the same birthday, although I didn’t come along until 1963. Dad saw Danny play while Danny was just a teenager gigging with a local band called the Offbeats. And Dad followed Danny’s upward trajectory through the 1960s and into the 1970s. I still have Dad’s copy of the Danny & the Fat Boys' 1975 45-RPM single “Harlem Nocturne” on Aladdin Records. It was magical to me. Danny’s take on that classic song became one of his signature tunes.

Dad had neighborhood pride, so Danny was a made-man forever in Dad’s eyes. And Dad knew good guitar. It was all around him. In fact, Dad’s best friend was another neighborhood kid named Dwight Clark. Dwight’s brother was none other than Roy Clark, another legendary picker. Again, I was always in the wake of Danny as he (and my family) moved further and further away from DC over the years. Danny moved to nearby Oxon Hill, Maryland in the 1960s, and my family moved to Oxon Hill shortly thereafter. Danny and his wife (Jan) later moved to Accokeek, Maryland, and it was there they had their only child (Holly).

When I got married in 1989, my wife (Carla) and I bought a house in Accokeek. In 1988 Danny and his family moved to rural Newburg, Maryland, and my family moved to nearby Charlotte Hall, Maryland in 2002. And always there was Danny’s music around me. My dad was nearly ten years gone by then, but I met Danny in 1993 — and Dad would have been amazed.

I was in a rockabilly band (Flea Bops) that was on the undercard of a Danny Gatton gig at Tornado Alley in Wheaton, Maryland. I met him and watched his set in awe from right in front of the stage. We played one more gig with Danny, but it would be the last.

Sadly, Danny, a sufferer of depression, shockingly took his own life on October 4, 1994. Here was a guy that, from the outside looking in, seemed to have it all. He could play the guitar like nobody else alive. He had a wonderful family. And he lived in an old farmhouse with lots of surrounding land and a big garage for his hot rods.

But depression is a dangerous thing, so much so that anyone suffering from it is capable of a desperate act to escape it — even if it means leaving devastated loved ones behind.

My song is a prayer sent to Danny. If I could tell him something to relieve his immortal soul (if it needs relieving), it would be, “Hey, Danny, it’s alright now. Rest easy — everything’s fine with your wife and daughter.” I don’t know Holly or Jan, so I’m not really qualified to say they’re fine. But everything I’ve read about them seems to indicate that they soldiered through the tough times after Danny’s death, and are now doing great in their lives. Because of how life ended for Danny, it’s hard to hear his name and not think of that tragic finish. My way of shaking that off is to play some of his music. His guitar playing is so amazing that you can’t help but get swept up in its genius — and soon you’re thinking of nothing but goodness.

"I'VE ALWAYS DONE WHAT I LOVE": 10 QUESTIONS FOR TOM PRINCIPATO
Mar 2, 2021
If you're a guitar buff, you're already well acquainted with Tom Principato, or have an album or two in your collection. If you don't, well -- you're in for a treat when you take that crash course. Aficionados know him for his associations with Danny Gatton (BLAZING TELECASTERS), Geoff Muldaur (I AIN'T DRUNK), Powerhouse (NIGHT LIFE), and Jimmy Thackeray (NO PREVIOUS RECORD, PARTNERS IN CRIME). That's before we get to his various session credits (including James Montgomery, Sunnyland Slim, and Big Mama Thornton), and long string of solo albums, starting with BLAZING TELECASTERS, an album that almost nudged its way into a Grammy Award nomination.

All these events, and more, are detailed in Tom's latest project, THEY TELL ME I HAD A GOOD TIME!, an 86-page account of nearly 50 years in the music business, one in which he's done things his own way all along. It's a path that, as Tom acknowledges in his introduction, came with its pros and cons: "The fact that I did it all myself could explain why I've advanced as far as I have in the Music Business -- and it could also be the reason why I never advanced any further than I did. But at least now I own all the masters and copyrights for to my catalogue of recordings, songs and original music; and I never have to hear from another record company that my 'check is in the mail.'"

That same dedication applies to the archival CD and DVD releases from Roy Buchanan and Danny Gatton on Powerhouse, Tom's imprint for those efforts, as well as his own work -- enabling another generation to dig deeper behind the instrumental mystique that defines both late guitarists, and get excited about it all over again, some 20-odd years after their tragic deaths. 

Tom recently took time out to answer some questions, via the magic of the Internet, about his rationale for writing They Tell Me, as he did, and the licks and tricks he picked up along a journey that's taken him from Boston, to Washington, DC, Istanbul, the Montreux Jazz Festival...and beyond. 


CHAIRMAN RALPH (CR): The million dollar question, of course: why now, at this point in your life? Did you always have it in the back of your mind, to write a book, or did you get that inspiration recently? Will we get another book, or is this a one-off?

TOM PRINCIPATO (TP): Now that I'm in my 60's and newly married for the first time in my life, I've been easing into "semi-retirement". I used to travel a lot, particularly to Europe and now I just mostly do a few gigs a year local to the D.C. area. I've always had the idea to write this book, and lately I've had the time to spend on it. It's sort of a "looking back" kind of thing for me, and it was a lot of fun to do it – researching some facts, testing my memory and re-connecting with some old friends and band mates to ask them what they remembered about certain things. It's already been suggested that I do an expanded edition, but we'll see about that...I wanted to keep this one short and sweet with no filler.

CR: As you mention, you always knew music would be your calling, though your parents had different ideas – your father, particularly. I'm guessing that you grew up in a traditional household, and he had different plans for you.

TP: Because our family enjoyed Comedy a lot when I was growing up, my Mother always said she was afraid I would want to be a comedian. My father was a professional photographer, and had a dark room in our basement that I used to spend a lot of time in. My father discouraged me from being a photographer – I think he was afraid I wouldn't make any money at it. But I showed them – I became a musician!

CR: I'm struck by this, since Holly alludes to the same issue with Danny in my book. What would you tell other young people who might face the same position today?

TP: My best advice to anyone wanting to be a musician today would be follow your heart and plan on using a lot of patience and perseverance.

CR: I read your comments on “The Three Kings” – BB, Albert, and Freddie – with great interest, since I saw BB myself in the spring of 1984, and many of those same qualities that you describe came across loud and clear, though that show came much later in his life and career, of course.

What did you learn from each of them, and what kind of imprint did they leave on your music? How do you feel their influence fit, or didn't fit, into the blues-rock booms of the late '60s and mid- to late '80s, which were a decidedly different beast (musically speaking)?

TP: The #1 I thing I learned from BB King was to play from the heart, and to carry yourself with honesty and integrity. I've really tried to follow that in my musical and business dealings in life. from Albert and Freddie King, I just mostly learned by observing their examples how to play the hell out of a guitar.

CR: When did you feel “legit,” so to speak? When you made your first album, or became a bandleader, or did you have that feeling from the get-go, with the James Montgomery experience?

TP: In the early 70's in Boston when I first was attempting to be a Professional musician, I could see once I had played for a while with James Montgomery's band that I could navigate the music business and do it full time. I had the passion, and the love for guitar and blues music. I also think that when Powerhouse did our first LP in 1975 for Billy Hancock's Aladdin Records, that I and we were legitimized as Pro Musicians.

CR: Washington, D.C., as we've discussed , always seems to have existed a breed apart from other cities. What factors made it that way, and how did you see yourself fitting into that framework? How did it change as the decades passed? (Other than the raising of the drinking age to 21, which many folks from that era have cited.)

TP: Because Washington was a very affluent white collar town, there were always a lot of clubs and a lot of places for bands to work. There was somewhat of community of bands that were all feeding off each other and also helping draw attention to each other too. there were a lot of Blues and roots music bands in those days, and great places to play like the Cellar Door, Childe Harold, and the Psyche Delly.

CR: How do you look back on your work with Danny, and how you feel his reputation has changed since his death, especially in comparison to Roy? What impact did he make on you, as a musician?

Sharing music with Danny Gatton has been a milestone in my life for sure. Looking back now, I wish that at the times that we were playing together, that i was farther along in my development as a guitarist, just so i could keep up with him. I used to warm up for an hour before going on stage with Danny – it was such a challenge. I learned a lot about collecting eclectic influences into one package from Danny. In short, just play what you love and you'll be having the most fun and doing your best, and doing what you love best. Danny's reputation has definitely grown since he passed. I'm glad to see that, and i hope that I've helped in a small way to further his legacy through the archival recordings I've released by him. He's no longer a big secret – a lot of people know about Danny and his great music now.

For some reason, it appears to me that Roy Buchanan still has a rather large cult following. I think he benefited a lot from his recording contract with Polydor in the 70's. Once Roy started touring the World, he became an International guitar star.

CR: Your book contains several examples of “what not to do,” on the bandstand, and off – notably, the Albert King and Frank Zappa stories. I'm thinking of a band director who told me in high school, “To be a good musician, you need a good attitude.” In other words, talent isn't enough – what advice would you give up and comers in this area, if they were willing to listen, and you were in a position to give it out?

TP: Well, one thing that is so very prevalent in "the music business" is Ego. Frank that night had a lot of it. Navigating with humility is best--let your actions speak for themselves.

CR: Did you ever reach a point where you felt frustrated enough to say, “That's it” – like after the Ichiban debacle, for instance? What qualities does a musician need to weather that kind of situation, and keep doing what they love most – especially since you don't get niceties like health insurance and/or pension plans?

TP: I've always been a very determined and driven person. When something like the Ichiban bankruptcy happens, it just makes me more determined to learn from the mistakes, and pull it all together and re-build. Once again – patience and perseverance are a must. I've always on the other hand felt very lucky to be doing all of my life what I have loved – playing music. It's been important and easy for me to keep that in perspective and realize the alternative is a stupid job I hate.

CR: What led you to go into semi-retirement? If you were talking to someone who'd never heard to your music before, what album would you recommend to get them interested in exploring it?

TP: The more I traveled, the harder physically it became. And since I'm newly married, I've really been enjoying staying off the road, being home with my family. I didn't have much time for a home and family life when I was always traveling before.I like to think that each of my albums has been better that the previous, and I feel that my latest studio album Robert Johnson Told Me So is my best.

CR: Looking back on your career now, what do you consider your biggest achievement? I'm reminded of what Roger McDuffie told me for the Gatton book, which I'll paraphrase as follows, roughly: “Sad as it is, a lot of legends are just forgotten.”

That comment makes me think of people like Paul Butterfield, whom you mention – someone who never got his due while he was still here, yet remains a reference point that no musician should overlook (along with his cohort, Mike Bloomfield, whom we've discussed, too). Is there still a passion project that you haven't yet done, and if so, what is it?

TP: I think my biggest achievement is just that fact that my whole life I've always been involved in music, and never had to have a "real job". And because I've always done what I love, I feel I'm in good health emotionally and physically from that. As difficult as it is to be a musician, I've always been really happy doing just that.

I've been wanting to do a tribute to BB King album of all his songs. We'll see if I can pull that one off!....

MORE INFO
http://www.powerhouserecords.com/
THE ARTIST IN REPOSE (W/CAR AND GUITAR) THE TELEMASTER (1993)
"THIS WAS A LABOR OF LOVE": VIRGINIA QUESADA DISCUSSES "THE HUMBLER" DOCUMENTARY ON DANNY GATTON (10/08/16)
by Words: Chairman Ralph/Photos:Courtesy Of Virginia Quesada
Feb 24, 2017
What more needs saying about Danny Gatton, that hasn't been aired already? If superlatives alone paid royalties, it goes without saying that Danny would have been the richest six-string slinger on the block. But whether you saw him live, picked up one of his homegrown indie releases, or -- in my case -- willingly gave up two years of my life to write the first biography, Unfinished Business: The Life & Times of Danny Gatton (Backbeat Books: 2003), one thing is certain.

Once you heard or saw Danny work his special brand of magic on the guitar, two things typically happened: first, you never forgot it, and second, you invariably found yourself asking, "Can I hear more?" Twenty-two years after Danny's tragic, untimely death at 49, the interest in his music -- and legacy -- shows no signs of slowing down yet.

Enter Virginia Quesada, an independent filmmaker who's deep into The Humbler, a long-awaited -- and, frankly, long overdue -- full-length documentary exploration of Danny's life and art. It's a project that, once released, is likely to take the appreciation of Danny's "Telemaster" guitar magic to a whole new level, and -- maybe, finally, possibly -- win over another generation of fans who haven't discovered him yet.


Getting there hasn't been easy, naturally. Like many indie artists and filmmakers, Quesada chose an online campaign to ratchet up awareness and funding for her project, which -- as you'll see shortly -- met its goal, which seemed like a good starting point to begin our conversation.

MORE INFO: https://www.thehumblermovie.com/


"WHO'S OUT THERE,
AND WHO LOVES DANNY GATTON?"

VQ: We really wanted a grass roots support. If people just gave a dollar, $5, whatever. That's how Obama built his campaign. And we're getting people from all over the world. I mean, that's always been the case, as we expanded into our social media. That's the whole thing: who's out there, and who loves Danny Gatton? You just find people all over the world: instrumentalists, you know.

CR: Of course. Well, tell me some of the countries that have been weighing in, then.

VQ: Well, I mean, the obvious one, the core is the United States, you know?

CR: Of course.

VQ: And so, Number Two would probably be the UK. Then you're pretty much looking at Europe. And, depending on the day, it could be France, or Germany, or Finland, or Belgium. Italy has a lot of supporters, and you do find people in Japan. But then, you also find people in Mexico. Yeah, I mean, I was surprised: it was like, “Wow!”

I mean, he did do a couple of tours overseas. As we know, there was a certain reluctance to travel.

CR: To travel widely, yeah.

VQ: Yes, to travel widely. I mean, he did travel, and he gave it a shot. But he got, as Norma [Gatton] would say, “road fried.” He just didn't like it. He liked being home, with his friends, his family, and his hobbies, you know. Who can blame him? Because, in a lot of ways, he was a regular guy with enormous talent, you know?

I mean, we do have an interesting audience for music (in Washington, D.C.). People enjoy playing here. They sense that we have good ears, and are very attentive, and that kind of thing.

There's a lot of discussion. It's like, “Well, there must be something in the water. Look at all these guitarists that came out of the mid-Atlantic (region): you've got Danny Gatton, Roy Buchanan, Link Wray, and...” Some people I've met, in the process of doing this project, say: “My favorite guitarists are always from this D.C. region.”

What is that, you know? So I don't know. Maybe there is something in the water. But it isn't necessarily a great place to launch a career. It doesn't have the recording studios.

CR: It doesn't have the recording studios, and of course, there's, really, just basically a handful of clubs now, right?

VQ: That's the sad thing, and that's an undercurrent I've been sort of interested in. Going through these old Unicorn Times – there was even a rag called Maryland Musician. There was enough stuff, that they had a magazine just for Maryland musicians. And every night, there was like, a million clubs! You could work six days a week, and ironically, you almost get paid the same today, that you got back then (laughs).

CR: Yup, that's right.

VQ: It's pretty sad. And the club owners are doing even less to promote, expecting you to bring the crowd... It's tough. I find it really sad, because live music is sort of, a big source of joy in my life.


"HE WAS SO SPECTACULAR AS AN ARTIST"
CR: So, take me back a little bit, then. How did this particular journey toward this documentary begin for you?

VQ: In 1989, I formed a nonprofit, tax-exempt organization called Video Culture, Inc. The whole purpose of that was so that we could do portraits about artists. The mission of the organization is musical art awareness, so that we could do these profiles.

And we started with one profile, it was called “Maryland Musicians,” or something like that. We were looking at Danny Gatton, Mary Chapin-Carpenter, and Buck Hill. Danny, though, I just so enamored with, because he was so spectacular as an artist. So we shot four cameras at the Flood Zone, in Richmond, VA. We went down there all day, set up the lights, and set up the sound system.

When you put a microphone in, it went to three places. It went to the board PA, the house PA, the band PA, and up to a 24-track recording studio. So they (the management) said to me, “Well, Virginia, would you like to roll some 24-track?” We were, as always, on a shoestring budget, but we said, “Sure, why not?”

So, I have about half of this night with 24-track – and then, the four cameras, very nicely lit. And it is a lot of the core of our documentary. We have been blessed with a lot of people giving us original recordings of Danny they have taken over the years. We also went down to Newburg, MD, to his farm.

CR: Right.

VQ: Everybody wanted to go, so we had two cameras, two video cameras, and still photographers, and we spent all day there, did a very extensive interview with him. He did thank me, and said this was one of the best interviews that he'd ever done in his life, 'cause we hit more than just the superficial stuff.

That, again, is a core element to the documentary. When we lost him, we were like, “Well, what are we gonna do?” What we ended up doing is then starting to interview those people who knew him.

"WE HAVE A LOT OF INTERVIEWS"
CR: What is it going to take, money-wise, to get this done? And about how far along are you?

VQ: Well, we're pretty far along in principal photography. We have a lot of interviews. Doing documentaries is something I do for a living, either as a producer, or an editor. And you can only have so many characters in the story. It gets confusing.

CR: And crowded.

VQ: Yeah, and crowded, so there will probably be some folks that won't make it. Or, we're working hard with these DVD extras, they could maybe go on that. And social media's another outlet for a lot of stories that might be too long for a documentary, but would be lovely for real diehard fans who wanna hear a story.

To musicians, the amount of money we have – $36,000 – is like a fortune, right? Now, we were fortunate enough to have Guitar Player and Guitar World saying, “Well, they're asking for a lot, $36,000.” That's because you wanna get a goal that's reachable, okay?

CR: Yes.

"HE'S JUST ABOUT TO POP"
VQ: This would give us enough to finish the shooting, finish the editing. We will still need money for additional licensing. This is a cross to bear, for any of these projects – music licensing money has gotten bigger and bigger and bigger, and harder and harder, even as we make the case, “We are a nonprofit, it's not a big commercial thing...”

But a lot of the strategy that people do is that you get it to that certain point – when we get that rough cut done, the editing – then you can maybe use that to generate a little bit more money, (or) maybe (seek) an investor.

One of my favorites is 88 Elmira St, because that's what I learned first. I just played it to death, played it to death, over and over and over. And then, after we lost him, we decided to do a whole piece on Danny. One of the pieces we'd licensed is Jim Hall's “Redneck Jazz Explosion,” with them wearing the red shirts.

And I'm looking at Danny playing “Orange Blossom Special,” and I'm going, “What? What?” (laughs) It knocked my socks off. Not that it was any less of 88 Elmira St, but it was just a whole other side of him, hearing some of the banjo licks, and stuff. Actually, people have given me stuff with him playing banjo, some stuff with him playing mandolin – some of that early work.

One person said it to me – that Danny before the accident, and after the accident, was almost like two different players. I can sort of see what he means, because there was this sort of, youthful spontaneity kind of thing, before the accident. But then, after the accident – he still had as much soul, but his technique had evolved even more and more. So that was also fantastic. And I think his jazz stuff got more spectacular.

When I came on (to start the documentary), it was like, “This guy is so great, he's just about to pop” – then you read these articles from the '70s, and they're saying, “This guy's so great, he's just about to pop (laughs).” You kept hearing that for years: “He's just about to make it, this is it!”

There's something a little sad about that. But then, there's also reasons why that (wider success never) happened. He seemed to have a little ambivalence about it. To be a really successful musician, in terms of business, you have to really be good at self-promotion. And that just wasn't his thing.

CR: No. Personally, I would agree with Joe Barden, who said that part of the issue was, Danny preferred to have a buddy running interference, but needed somebody that was maybe a little better connected, in the framework of the business, who could have theoretically performed that same function.

VQ: Right. No, he says in the interview, “I don't play with that many different guys. For me, it's important to play with people I have some rapport with, like family. And that's why I've played with the same old guys so long.” He really wasn't comfortable to be in a band with nobody he didn't know. And I think that's true.

I remember talking to Joe. And he said something to the extent, when they were both hitting in '89 – the pickup business was going well, and Danny was getting all this press – and Joe and Danny looked at each other: “Well, are you ready for this? Do you want this?” And both of them were kind of like: “No, not really” (laughs).

CR: Right. On the flipside, were there any misconceptions or popular notions about Danny that you think this particular film will demolish? And if so, what might they be?

VQ: Well, I don't think so. I mean, we really see this as a celebration of the man, and the music. As you know, there's some sad parts of the story we're not gonna really dwell on too much. We don't wanna see the suicide as the defining moment, or issues with depression. I mean, clearly, there had to be some kind of depression to cause him to feel like the world would be better off without him.

CR: Yeah.


"HE WAS A BOTTOMLESS PIT OF INVENTION"
VQ: He was such a generous and well-loved man. He had such great talent, and he was a bottomless pit of invention. So we're really gonna focus more on that – I can't think of too many things that aren't well-known, but in some ways, I think the intimacy is what we can bring to it, that people haven't seen elsewhere, in terms of Danny telling his own story, and hearing it more from him.

He was always doing something, but maybe he needed to get away from the music sometimes. And he did. As Norma said, “The cars and guitars, those two did compete with each other.”

CR: Yes, and I had people tell me that, too.

VQ: We did interview Jay Monterose, and Jay was always saying, “That time in between – after the accident – Danny says that was the happiest time of his life, when he could just work on the cars.” And Jan said, “If you wanna do that, that's fine. I'm behind you doing that.” But he couldn't quite let the music go. He had such a gift. If he heard it, he could play it. He could take any piece of music that entered his muse, and send it out through his fingers.

And not that he didn't appreciate it, and not that he didn't work very, very hard in those early years to really develop those skills – he had so many different interests, with the cars and guitars. He also was interested in American Indian archeology. That was something he really liked. He just loved antiques, and things like that, animals.

CR: Right.

VQ: So he was a complicated man, in that way.

CR: Very much so. So, if we're gonna try to this into a neat little bow...

VQ: Oh, no (laughs).

CR: What is the reason we should continue to remember Danny, celebrate his music, and look to him as an important influence among guitar players?

VQ: Well, I think the title of the movie kind of helps explain it. He got the nickname, “The Humbler,” because his mastery of all the American genres of music – blues, jazz, country, rockabilly, rhythm and blues, rock, you name it – was so impressive, that other guitarists nicknamed him, or called him, “The Humbler.” Amos Garrett gets credit for the actual...

CR: Nickname.

VQ: Nickname. But, in some ways, it just really stuck. He may have shared “The World's Greatest Unknown Guitarist” with Roy Buchanan. He got it after Roy passed. But “The Humbler” is his. So he is an American treasure, because he's an American master guitarist. He really takes all those genres of music, and is able to play all those so authentically. It's pretty awesome.

So I think, in some ways, when you celebrate Danny Gatton, you're celebrating American music. And that really is what he really excelled (at) – I mean, he was an all-American guy, you know. American cars, American guitars, Fender amps, you know...


"AMERICAN MUSIC...AND IT'S MINE"
CR: And it goes back to that song on that first Fat Boys album: “American music, and it's mine.”

VQ: Right, exactly. When we went down and shot him in the Flood Zone, there were a couple of guys in the audience, holding up the album cover.

CR: Wow!

VQ: Did you see that story that we did with Jack Casady? Well, Jack and Danny grew up here – and he (Casady) has a great story, where Danny's bass player was sick, right? He needed a bass player, so he was asking. And at that time, Jack, like everybody else, started as a guitarist.

CR: Right. VQ: So he called up Jack: “Do you know any bass players?” And Jack is (saying), “I don't know.” And he says, “Well, why don't you play the bass, Jack?” And Jack says to Danny, “I don't play bass!”

And Danny says, “Well, how hard can it be? It's only got four strings!” So he (Casady) did that gig, and really got to like the bass, and so, the rest is history. He just moved on to being a bass player. We'll be lucky to break even. This was a labor of love.

CR: Sure.

VQ: And I hope folks understand that. It's something that we've done for a long time – but it's good, and it'll be good to get it done. I'm looking forward to it. And it is fun. You start to meet people, like you, you know? – and get to have this conversation, and that's fun.

CR: Yeah, exactly. And I've had the same experience on the other end, too, so...

VQ: Okay, well, thank you for your time, thank you for your book, and it was a pleasure talking to you.

CR: Indeed. Thank you for your time, and all the effort and hard work that you've put in.

VQ: Okay, thanks.
When we finished, I remember one of the Olsson&#39;s staff telling me that they&#39;d never seen somebody put so much creativity into their autograph messages!  Well, I guess I couldn&#39;t just sign my name, and call it a day -- not for me, I&#39;m afraid!  (Photo: Don Hargraves) Dave Elliott played with Danny, off and on, for 18 years -- and knew him just about as well as anyone.  He has a unique slant on things, and I always enjoy talking with him.  (Photo: Don Hargraves) Apologies for the size -- but I don&#39;t have the originals, so I had hunt them down via The Wayback Machine, and this is what I found.  I&#39;m on the far right, busy signing my life away (!). The gentleman in front of me (blue sweater) is Charlie D. Young, who introduced me that night.  (Photo: Don Hargraves) Here I am (right), talking to Michael Buckley (WRNR-FM) for a radio interview.  He asked a lot of good questions, too, which I was more than happy to answer.  (Photo: Don Hargraves)
54 HOURS IN WASHINGTON, D.C.: MY APPEARANCE AT OLSSON'S BOOKS & RECORDS, ARLINGTON, VA (11/07/03)
Jan 12, 2012
Some people take vacation days to shake off the wreckage from their workplace: I spent mine signing 100 copies of my book, UNFINISHED BUSINESS: THE LIFE & TIMES OF DANNY GATTON.

Simon & Schuster sales representative Charlie D. Young suggested the trip, since Olsson's supported Danny long before his hair-raising guitar abilities spread beyond his Maryland-Virginia-D.C. stomping grounds.

No problem: my webmaster (Don Hargraves) and I were up to the trip. We left at 5:30 p.m. Thursday (11/6) and spent the night in Mars, PA (which has the same anonymous burger joints and strip malls you see everywhere else).

Our 3:30 p.m. arrival helped avoid the notorious Beltway gridlock, find the store and sign 40 of the 100 (!) copies Olsson's intended for its holiday gift guide. I spend 20 minutes scribbling variations on my signature and creative messages (like "Yours Truly, From Gatton Central").

We kill another hour at Orpheus Records, where Charlie arrives; he's going to introduce me. On our way to the signing, we stop at the Hard Times Cafe - which we're sure Danny would have loved, for the burgers and chili.

About 15 people show up for the signing, including Dave Elliott, Danny's drummer of 18 years. I read 'em four or five passages: the fruitless warnings to Danny against modifying his guitars so drastically get the biggest laugh: "He took that guitar home, hacked it out, made a swimming pool in it, and put three white-coil Patent Applied For humbucking pickups in it." (For further reference, see Chapter 4: "The '53 Tele & The Pickup Man.")

But everyone's armed themselves with intelligent questions: Did he enjoy international success? Why did the Elektra deal sour? Who were Danny's biggest influences? What he was doing from his child prodigy years to the Redneck Jazz Explosion era?
My favorite moment comes during the signing, when a guy says: "I used to deliver the Washington Post during the '70s, and Danny's house was on my route: lots of barking, [antique] cars everywhere: it was one scary looking house!" We share a good laugh about that one.

My signing duties over, I spend another hour taping a radio interview with Michael Buckley (WRNR-FM) that should provide fodder for a thoughtful review of Danny's legacy.

Don and I round off our night at Charlie's house taping live Gatton CDs, including Take It Away - a bluesy, smokin' '89 gig with Jack Casady and Jorma Kaukonen (billed as "Jack & The Degenerates") - and P.G. County Funk. Both are 150-minute double CDs, too...ah, hell, sleep can wait.

We return to Michigan by 11 p.m. Saturday. Our 54 hours in D.C. are over, but those hot-wired leads on "Harlem Nocturne" and "Sleepwalk" from P.G. County Funk still resonate in my head. The night's been good.


...POSTSCRIPT: 9/30/08
Little did Don and I know that, barely five years later, one of D.C.'s premiere independent outposts would close its doors, sucked down into a perfect storm of booming e-commerce, declining sales and an economic slowdown that was just beginning to intertwine its tentacles around every nook and cranny of our nation. Here's how the company's original press release:

"Olsson Enterprises, Inc., trading as Olsson’s Books & Records closes stores and petitions court for Chapter 7 conversion.

"Olsson Enterprises, Inc., trading as Olsson’s Books & Records, Record & Tape Ltd., and Olsson’s Books announced today that it has closed all of its locations and petitioned the U.S. Bankruptcy Court District of Maryland for conversion of its current Chapter 11 protection to Chapter 7.

"The reasons given for the petitioning were stagnant sales, low cash reserves, and an inability to renegotiate current leases, along with a continuing weak retail economy and plummeting music sales.

"Olsson’s was granted Chapter 11 protection on July 11 this year in order to work on an aggressive reorganization plan involving selected store closings and large cuts in overhead costs. At the same time the Lansburgh/ Penn Quarter location on 7th Street, N.W. was shuttered to make way for a new London-based restaurant.

"Olsson’s was established in 1972 and grew to as many as nine retail stores in the Washington, D.C. metro area with sales over $16 million a year and as many as 200 employees. Currently there are five retail stores: Reagan National Airport, Old Town Alexandria, Arlington Courthouse, Crystal City, and one in Northwest Washington at Dupont Circle. Olsson’s earned its reputation as a locally-owned community-oriented retailer with a knowledgeable staff selling a wide selection of books, music, video and gifts.

"Stephen Wallace-Haines, Olsson’s general manager stated: 'In the end, all the roads towards reorganization led to this dead end: we did not have the money required to pay for product in advance, to collect reserves to buy for Christmas, and satisfy the demands of rent and operational costs. We were losing money just by staying open.'

"John Olsson, principal owner, Washington native and graduate of Catholic University had this to say, 'Although it is certainly a sad day for us, I can rejoice in all the great memories of my life in retail in Washington. I began at Discount Record Shop on Connecticut Avenue in the fall of 1958, and worked there until 1972 when I left to open my own record store at 1900 L Street. Along the way books were added, more locations, a couple thousand employees, and many thousands of customers. It was exhilarating. Through it all, our best and brightest served Washington’s best and brightest with love and distinction. I’m very proud of what we accomplished. My love and gratitude to all my employees, and special thanks to all those thousands of loyal customers.'"

After the announcement, Olsson's allowed people to weigh in on its blog -- and people wasted little time taking that opportunity. For those who care to take a peek, I'm response #344. To read everybody's thoughts, go here: http://www.olssons.com/blog/archives/1.

These are no small points in a nation where more than 1,000 bookstores closed between 2000 and 2007, leaving about 10,600 standing, according to the latest federal stats that I was able to unearth. Obviously, the growing popularity of e-books and the vicarious thrill of being able to buy an old favorite online has something to do with that figure.

I, for one, am not saying that trend's necessarily bad; e-books have given a lot of authors a new lease on life, one that I fully intend to explore, as well. And I've never been one to rhapsodize about "the good old days," and how wonderful they were, to the exclusion of everything going down today.

The reality is, those who don't want to give up and "go along with the program" will always have to fight for their fair share of real estate -- whether that struggle happens to occur on the air, onstage or at live events like the one that I just chronicled above. But if you feel that an idea's worth fighting for, you won't mind doing the legwork...as the late Rob Tyner once told me: "The only thing that goes with the flow is a dead fish."

John Olsson is gone, too. He died at 78 in October 2010, after a long battle with cancer. However, he left an imprint that won't ever be forgotten, one befitting the man who championed maverick talents like Eva Cassidy, and Danny Gatton. I saw that philosophy in action back in November 2003, and -- though we never met, nor spoke -- all I can say is, "John, thanks for making me feel at home."
A PART OF ME ALBUM COVER Brian Auger (left),plus Catfish Hodge, Pete Ragusa, Ron Holloway, and Tom Principato. TOM PRINCIPATO, IN PROFILE (TAKE 2) Tom works the guitar with Steve Wolf (bass) at the Ram&#39;s Head Tavern, Annapolis, MD (2/17/11).  Photo by Andrew Reeder.
TOM PRINCIPATO DISCUSSES HIS NEW ALBUM (PT III, 1/9/11)
Mar 7, 2011
If you've made it this far into the proceedings, you're certainly well aware that Tom Principato isn't merely an archiver for hire, but also an interesting artist in his own right. For further evidence, listen to his latest album, A PART OF ME (Powerhouse Records), which serves up Southern-fried soul ("Sweet Angel"), driving New Orleans rhythms ("Down In Louisiana") and bumptious roots-rock ("Don't Wanna Do It"), without missing the proverbial beat.

My favorites are the title track -- which is the kind of old school soul-rock ballad that you hardly hear anymore -- and "Stranger's Eyes Pt. 2," another worthy addition to Tom's lengthy instrumental musical roll call. And that's before we discuss the special guests, who made their contributions via the magic of technology, as Tom explains: "We would either email or send a CD reference of the basic track. They'd overdub it, email or send it back, and we'd fly it in, with digital synchronization.

"So you'd send a reference down to Sonny Landreth, in Louisiana, and when he had a chance, he went into his favorite local studio...laid it down, sent it back...instead of having him fly up here, or try to catch him when he's in this part of the country on tour." Yes, indeed, a lot has changed since Tom first cranked up his stacks 40-odd years ago, but not the commitment to making passionate music. (For more information, visit: www.tomprincipato.com/.)

CHAIRMAN RALPH (CR): It's interesting to see some of the guest names you've got here. You've got Chuck Leavell, you've got Brian Auger: that's not a name that has popped up in my brain for quite awhile.

TOM PRINCIPATO (TP): Well, I've known Brian through an all-star band that Catfish Hodge has been putting together every year, the January All-Stars. The personnel has changed, but the group started out to be Catfish Hodge, myself, Steve Wolf on bass, Pete Ragusa on drums, and Brian Auger on organ. I've always been aware of Brian, and actually, I saw him with the Trinity in 1970, at the Cellar Door.

After we did a couple of gigs with Brian, I'm going, “This guy is good as anybody in the world!” And it's true, man. He's incredible. He takes a really nice solo on his album, but I've heard him do stuff as good as Jimmy Smith. He just tears it up! So, when I got this idea to do an album that involved some of these kind of guys, I immediately thought of him – and he was very generous.

CR: And there he was! Of course, the association with Chuck was a little closer to home – since, like you, he is a Southerner.

TP: Well, not only that, I met him when I was in Geoff Muldaur's band, in 1980. We did a show with Sea Level in New England, and that was when I first met Chuck. But he's been involved in two of my other albums. He produced my Tip Of The Iceberg album, and he plays on my Really Blue album.

CR: What do you get from him, that you don't get from [playing with] somebody else?

TP: Well, he's just got a special way of accompanying me on the organ, and he just plays some great stuff. His style is individual. He's a great guy, a Southern gentleman, and I just like working with him. He never disappoints me with the stuff that he sends, when I ask him [to contribute something].

CR: Indeed. So what was the basic recording strategy with this particular album? It's got a very live sound to it, I noticed...

TP: Right. Yeah, I was really trying to go for an organic sound, and we used ProTools – but I think, in all of the non-objectionable ways, you know. We used it to sort of supplement the music, not screw with it.

CR: Not overwhelm it!

TP: Yeah, so that was pretty cool – but my approach always is to set up in the studio, and perform the way we do at the gigs. Usually, it's with the core group – guitar, bass and drums. I go for live solos as much as I can. I really don't like overdubbing them. I did do more overdubbing this time than I usually do on an album, but there were still a number of live things. I mean, “Down In Louisiana” is completely live. My solo on “Down The Road,” with Brian Auger, and Willie Weeks, and Jim Brock, that's all live. And “Back Again And Gone,” with Steve Wolf, and Joe Wells – that was live.

CR: Yeah, and I have to say that on listening to “A Part Of Me,” I thought, “Wow, this sounds like the old school kind of song that they really don't do anymore!” That was an interesting highlight for me.

TP (laughs): Yeah! It was a kick to have Wayne Jackson and the Memphis Horns on that. He did all the horns for all the Otis Redding records, and a lot of the Al Green stuff, too.

CR: So what do you think works here, from a songwriting point of view? What have you been playing from it live?

TP: Well, oddly enough, we haven't been doing the instrumentals. I'm trying to demonstrate my growth as a singer, and a songwriter, so we're doing “Down In Louisiana,” and we do “A Stranger's Eyes.” We do “Part Of Me” – the audiences just love “Part Of Me.” “Sweet Angel” has been popular with the audiences, too. They're diggin' that one.

CR: So you've been really pushing the song aspect of your personality this time around, then. Of course, that's another curse great guitar players deal with. It's easy to think of them purely as players, and forget about all the other stuff.

TP: Right. Well, you know, I'm willing to admit that – although I've been attempting singing for awhile – I've usually been regarded as my strongest attribute being my guitar playing. But I've really, really been working on the singing, and I think I've had some improvement, and I'm pleased about that. People seem to be enjoying it more – although, even before this improvement phase – a typical thing that people would say to me is, they wouldn't say they thought I was a great singer. They would just say, “I like your singing.” So, I mean, to me, that's as good as anything.

CR: Well, if it has character to it, that's half the battle, isn't it? A lot of people gave Mike Bloomfield shit for that, but to me, that's one of the more endearing qualities of his later stuff.

TP: Yeah, actually, I enjoy his vocals, too. And, to tell you the truth, I enjoy Roy Buchanan's vocals, as well.

CR: Yeah. I put that CD on, along with yours, late last night – 'cause I thought, “That's the best time to listen to something like this.” And with Roy, I could almost feel like I was right there in the room with him.

TP: Yeah. Well, some numb nuts gave me a review recently – I don't even remember where it was now, but I felt compelled to respond to him. He basically said, “Well, Principato had all this star power on the album, I don't understand why he didn't hire a singer, too.”

CR: To which you said...

TP: To which I said, “Well, I felt like I wanted to demonstrate my growth as a a singer, and I'm very pleased with my vocals on this album, and all I can do is do my best.”

CR: Yeah. And some people will like it, and some won't – and that's the way it goes. So, was singing something that you had to struggle with, in the beginning? Did you feel self-conscious [in] taking that on? I mean, how did we approach that?

TP: Well, I'll tell you. It's really not that easy to sing and play rhythm guitar at the same time, or to sing and play guitar at the same time. And it's really something you've got to develop. That doesn't have anything to do with how well you're singing – just doing the two in one is a whole accomplishment in itself. You know, it's been a long development mental process, and I never felt like I could improvise with my voice, like I can with my guitar, but nowadays, I feel like I can do it better than ever.

CR: Well, that's good to hear, so hopefully, then – [on] the next album or two, we'll see that explored a little bit further.

TP: I've been pleased with my vocals at our last live performances. We did some live audio/video recording this past Friday night, and I was pleased with the vocals, so...we'll see. I might be getting somewhere.

CR: But, of course, you may have a bit of pulling power – in the sense that, you're one of the last of the old guys from the D.C. area that's out there pretty regularly...so, that may be a draw for people, in and of itself. They may know your name, but not necessarily what you've been doing lately, know what I mean?

TP: Oh, yeah, definitely! Actually, I think that's a pretty big issue.

CR: In what sense?

TP: Well, I think that I have grown, and changed – and I don't think that a lot of people have realized that. I think it's harder than ever to get people to pay attention these days.

CR: Because there's just so much more stuff out there these days?

TP: Yeah. And, you know, it's funny – on this subject, one of the guys in the band was remarking to me the other day, because we always chuckle about my being put in the “blues guitarist” category. I mean, how much blues is there on “A Part Of Me?” It's bluesy, at times...

CR: But it's not blues-driven, as such.

TP: No. I'm this eclectic roots guy – but one of the guys in the band made a remark: “But you know, every one of these reviews that you get, Tom, always starts out with: 'Blues guitarist Tom Principato.' It doesn't say, 'Guitarist Tom Principato,' or, 'guitar legend,' or whatever. It always says, 'Blues guitarist Tom Principato.'” That's an interesting thing – a lot of people have this antiquated view, or memory, of something that I've done, and don't realize that it may not be like what I am now at all anymore.

CR: Right, and it may not be accurate. And it's interesting, too, because – looking back – you were probably one of the few names of that early era of D.C. [music] to break out, and get to the wider world. Whereas, as you know, a lot of guys like Danny just sort of stayed in that circuit. So, in that respect, you've been probably luckier – but it sounds like there's still some catching up to do, isn't there?

TP: There's been an interesting paradox with me, because I definitely have a lot of name recognition in a lot of different places. I've got over 5,000 friends on Myspace – these are people that have come to me – and I'm reaching my 5,000 limit on Facebook. Those are people that have made requests to me. And I have 500 unanswered friend requests on Facebook. So, obviously, there are thousands of people out there who are aware of me, and my music. Frequently, if I go out, do a show and perform, I don't get a crowd...what's going on? Why is that?

CR: I don't know – I think, perhaps, with the Internet era being what it was, people have so many more choices, and so many more distractions.

TP: Yeah, that's part of it.

CR: Actually, I'll ask you one more question, and then we can hang up. What would you tell people starting out now in that uncertain era – where concert attendances are so horrible, and you've got the issue of downloading, and file-sharing – you've got that whole debate. It seems like the ceiling for sales has never been smaller, in terms of CDs. What do you tell people who might feel nervous about trying to establish themselves in that climate right now?

TP: Well, you just have to be patient and persistent, you know? I don't think anybody wants to give up (laughs), so it just takes more perseverance than ever. That's the main thing.

CR: That's true. Well, of course, you were doing the independent label thing, long before a lot of other folks were.

TP: I was indie before indie was cool (laughs)! And I'm kind of happy about that now, because my little record label has really grown into something nice. I've got a couple of Roy Buchanan albums, a couple of Danny Gatton, a couple of Nighthawks, a dozen of my own albums.

CR: It definitely has its own identity and presence in the marketplace...

TP: Yeah, and I've got a good distribution deal with a great company, Redeye – and I get monthly checks, so yeah, I'm pretty happy. But you know what? I worked my ass off on it.

CR: All right, so life is good – that being said, now it is time to hang up, and let you go.

TP: Well, thanks, Ralph. I appreciate the support. It's always nice talking with you.
TOM PRINCIPATO SPEAKS, PT. II (1/9/11)
Feb 28, 2011
DUELING LEGACIES: DANNY GATTON VS. ROY BUCHANAN

CHAIRMAN RALPH (CR): What did Roy give Danny, and vice versa, from your perspective, since you've seen them both often enough to comment?

TP: My favorite quote on this is, “I think that Roy wrote the book, and Danny added his own chapter.” I mean, to me – the style that Roy invented, I call it, “Telecaster on Mars,” or “James Burton on acid.” James Burton was never that wild. He was always that good, but he was never that phrase-y, and introverted. To me, Roy really, really invented that “Telecaster on Mars” style, and I really do feel like in the beginning, that's what Danny based his style on.

But then, Roy continued to just be sort of a blues guy – and Danny had that incredible jazz phase, with REDNECK JAZZ, and just became a lot more versatile, and a lot more accomplished than Roy. I mean, Roy had chops, but Danny was the amazing technician. I don't hear any of Danny Gatton in Roy Buchanan, myself. I hear tons of Roy in Danny.

CR: Of course, Roy did stick more with the blues and R&B kind of stuff, too, didn't he?

TP: Yeah. Danny had his banjo background, which had a lot to do with his right hand technique, the rolling fingers stuff – Danny was just all over the place, man. If the two played together, Danny would just play circles around Roy, but each had his own thing. To me, Roy was much more soulful, and more deeply emotional than Danny, in a general way. I mean, Danny had his “Harlem Nocturne,” but Roy had a whole bunch of stuff like that, where it was pretty deep, emotionally.

CR: In many ways, considering what happened to them, career-wise – they both suffered from that same syndrome of “guitar hero that couldn't quite find their niche.”

TP: Yeah, but you know what? It was cool, because once Danny got his [major label] opportunity [with Elektra Records], it spurred him on to make one of the best records of his career. 88 ELMIRA ST has got so much great stuff on it. To me, that and UNFINISHED BUSINESS are the two pinnacles of the Danny Gatton that we know. And the other Danny Gatton is the Lenny Breau, [and] REDNECK JAZZ guy. That album is a wonderful statement, too, but UNFINISHED BUSINESS and 88 ELMIRA, to me, are the two definitive Danny statements.

CR: Yeah, that's true. That album has a lot of great stuff on it...

TP: And I'm so pleased that I was not only able to re-release that album, but remaster it. I'm so pleased about the way we improved the sound on the UNFINISHED BUSINESS reissue. It [the original LP release] was really, really flat-sounding and low output – you had to crank the stereo up, and it just didn't pop.

And when it went from LP to CD the first time, I disagreed with the song choice. Norma [Gatton] added a couple of additional tracks, so I decided to leave one of those off [“Georgia On My Mind”]. And that bonus cut I culled from those Danny home demos, I think it's a really great cut, too. Actually, THE HUMBLER STAKES HIS CLAIM has not really sold that well – hasn't sold nearly as good as Unfinished Business.

CR: It would represent a prime period of his live career, I think, that people would be interested in.

TP: The only thing I can guess is that maybe some people are turned off by the lower sonic quality, but, to me – I think it's killer.

CR: One thing record companies always argue against, when they talk about releasing famous bootleg tapes is: “Well, they already have it, so what's the point of doing it?”

TP: Oh, no, honestly – this stuff has not been circulating in bootleg circles at all. That was one of the main impetuses for me, if that's the word (laughs), to go ahead with it: “Yeah! I knew the collectors didn't have this shit.” Maybe word just hasn't gotten out enough yet, I don't know.

CR: Well, maybe – like a lot of things associated with Danny, it's gonna take awhile to seep through to the popular culture, perhaps.

TP: Yes, and no – because UNFINISHED BUSINESS is selling well. I'm gonna go to the distributor website and check some numbers... OK, let's see: LIVE IN '77 has sold better than I thought: 3,900. That's pretty good. The first Roy [CD: AMERICAN AXE] sold over 10,000 now. The AMAZING GRACE one has sold 2,648 [copies]. That's in two years.

CR: In two years – and how about UNFINISHED BUSINESS?

TP: It is 4,450 [copies], and that's a reissue.

CR: That's not bad – maybe you should go into the reissue business, I guess.

TP: Well, they're great to do. I mean, the way I've been doing 'em, the overhead is generally low, and it's fun. I enjoy doing it. Let's ses: OH, NO! MORE BLAZING TELECASTERS has sold decently, not as well as I thought it would. It's sold about 2,200. Of course, the first BLAZING TELECASTERS, since it started out on LP, it's probably well over 15,000 by now.

CR: Yeah, I know. That's kind of, one of the more obscure points of Danny's career, for the non-initiate. I imagine that was part of its appeal all along, wasn't it?

TP: Yeah, I guess so. And I think, from the guitar crowd, it would raise an eyebrow to hear, “Oh, Tom Principato and Danny Gatton [worked] together,” even though I never considered myself in the same league – nor do I think a lot of other people did, either. But I think I was known as a really good guitarist....and I actually got Danny to rehearse (laughs)!

CR: Which was something he was well-known for never doing...

TP: Yes, and I'll tell you – I have at least one of the rehearsals taped, and he's definitely bitching on it (more laughter on this point).

CR: Well, there you go – you could always release a snippet of that, I guess. Are we actually in danger of seeing Danny's and Roy's [musical] footprint disappearing?

TP: Well, that's the way to perpetuate legacies. I mean, Jimi Hendrix has been really lucky that way.

RH: Well, we'll see – maybe if you get that other Roy stuff out, that'll kick-start something. Of course, there's Danny's stuff on video, too, right? Although the quality is maybe not that great... in the case of the Redneck Jazz [Explosion] stuff [from the 1978 Cellar Door run in Washington, D.C.], it's very grainy, and it looks like it was shot underwater.

TP: Actually, I'll tell you, I have been in touch with the guy that filmed that [gig] – That's actually very good quality filming, and it's in color. The grainy black and white [version] you're thinking about is the reference [film] from Bob Dawson, the engineer. He stuck a black and white camera in the balcony of the Cellar Door, so he could see what was going on during the remote recording. But there was another guy,that filmed Danny, that whole night. I've been in touch with him – a couple of the clips are color, and they're on Youtube. They're all wearing those...

RH: Those horrible matching T-shirts, with their beer bellies sticking out – but people would want to see that.

TP: Exactly. I've been on him, I've been on him, I've been on him, and he keeps saying: “Oh, it's taking me so long to convert these over to digital.” For some reason, he's hemming and hawing, and he's not coming through – I would love to release that stuff, but I can't get him to give it up.

CR: Once again, that goes back to the politics of what it takes to get something like that done. It's not an easy business, is it?

TP: No, it isn't. I mean, if something drops into my lap, I probably might try to jump on it. But I'm definitely not gonna do all this archive searching that I used to do, and believe me, I've done a lot of it.

CR: And it's very time-consuming, isn't it?

TP: Yeah, and it's expensive, too! When you go to someone like a “Musikladen,” in Germany – or a WNET, in New York – you don't just say, “Oh, hey, go look for a Roy Buchanan film for me, and let me know what you come up with.” You have to pay for an archive search – it's like $700 or $800, just to know if they've got something!

CR: Wow! That might be an education for people – it doesn't sound like much, but, of course, you do this enough...

TP: Hey, you know what? I could license the Roy Buchanan PBS Bill Graham special, but you know why I don't? Because PBS charges for video licensing by the second.

CR: By the second?

TP: And that's the reality of bigtime video music licensing. Most of those places license snippets for documentaries, but just think of that – every time on VH1, when they're doing [a documentary] like, “Whatever Happened to the Blind Lemon Squeezers?” – if there's footage of them, it probably cost about $2.50 a second.

CR: Well, I guess we'll just have to stay tuned.

TP: We'll see what happens.
TOM PRINCIPATO SPEAKS, PT. I (1/9/11)
Feb 28, 2011
A TALE OF TWO LIVE ALBUMS
DANNY GATTON (LIVE IN 1977: THE HUMBLER STAKES HIS CLAIM)
ROY BUCHANAN (LIVE: AMAZING GRACE)

INTERVIEW WITH TOM PRINCIPATO: PART ONE (1/9/11)
A man of many styles, guitarist Tom Principato makes a point of keeping busy on multiple fronts. First, he's released his first album of all-original material, A PART OF ME, on his Powerhouse Records label (see www.tomprincipato.com/ for details). A PART OF ME features several key D.C.-aea figures who have played with Tom, including Josh Howell, Tommy Lepson, Jay Turner and Steve Wolf...and some "out of towners" in Brian Auger, and Chuck Leavell...we'll get back to that topic later.

Secondly, Tom has released live albums by Danny Gatton (LIVE IN 1977: THE HUMBLER STAKES HIS CLAIM, for which I wrote the liner notes), and Roy Buchanan (LIVE: AMAZING GRACE), which will shed further light on what both these late, departed guitar masters did on the live music trail -- where they did some of their best and brightest work, to be sure. With all this activity, I found it natural to call Tom, and shed further light on the making of these projects -- starting with the two live albums.

CHAIRMAN RALPH(CR): So, anyway, the purpose is to go over some of these things...let's take 'em one at a time. To do the Danny live album [LIVE IN 1977: THE HUMBLER STAKES HIS CLAIM], did we have to do anything extraordinary to make that a release-quality record?

TP: Not really. That was the easier of the two, because it was all recorded by the same guy. Part of that is owed to Chris Murphy, Danny's soundman of the time – who set up a couple mikes in the audience, and recorded them that way, rather than the usual sterile (sound) board mix.

CR: Which pretty much suffocates any signs of life of the band, as we know. So was he the main man on most of these recordings?

TP: Right. He recorded all of it. I had been in touch with him sporadically, and kept saying, “Hey, Chris, you got any tapes of Danny?” Because I knew he must have something – he was very good. He's the same guy that taped BLAZING TELECASTERS. I knew he usually had that machine running. So, every now and again he'd go, “Well, yeah, I don't know – let me dig me around, I'll let you know.”

CR: And he'd kind of hem and haw.

TP: Right. Then one day, he called up and said, “Yeah, I got some stuff, let me come on over.” He had a briefcase full of cassettes, and I went through a lot of 'em. There was quite a bit of looking, and searching, and poring over – listening, and evaluating.

CR: For the Roy album [LIVE: AMAZING GRACE], how did we go about approaching that?

TP: That was considerably more involved. Well, there's a guy that I know, Bob Davis. He's a big, big music collector and Roy fanatic in New England. I've sort of used him as a consultant, because I don't know of anyone who has more live and bootleg recordings of Roy Buchanan. I mean, I consider this guy the foremost source for Roy stuff in the world. So I'm always asking him to funnel me stuff.

And I also have done some archiving searching, so I was aware – through some searching I had done at PBS, in New York – of this “Vibrations” TV show that Roy did [in 1972], right after the PBS special that Bill Graham hosted. And somebody already had the audio. Actually, a lot of this stuff, we aware of – because Judy Buchanan had a lot of tapes that Roy had been given, and copies have been circulating...from Judy.

So I was aware of these two killer takes of “Malaguena” for this “Vibrations” PBS show – and I knew that if, and when, I was ever able to strike another deal with Judy Buchanan for a second album, “Malaguena” had to be on it. So I just picked the shorter [version] of the two, because they're both pretty long, anyway.

CR: I think one of my favorite single takes is the one from Pennsylvania [“Good God Have Mercy”: Chestnut Cabaret, 1978], where you can actually hear the beer bottles clinking.

TP: Yeah, that's something, and I'll tell you what. Sonically, that song barely made it to the album. It really is the crappiest-sounding cut, but the performance is so cool, I just don't care – because, you know, these kind of albums are about the music, anyway, it's not for audiophiles. So, fuck it, put on the good shit (laughs). And I think most people are happy that I take that approach. They just want the music. If you wanna release something that's Roy at his peak, you're gonna have to go with the limitations of whatever you found in the '70s. I'd rather [hear] him wailing away on a sonically “not as good” performance, than some nice pristine thing that's not as cool musically.

CR: The version of “Green Onions” that closes the CD is kind of an example of that, too.

TP: You know what's the nice about the source for that? That's Eddie Wilson, at Armadillo World Headquarters, in Austin – and he's an eccentric, but a pretty cool guy. And I'll tell you, he's sitting on a motherlode of stuff, because he's really one of the few guys in the '70s that was making quality videos and audio recordings of some of the real greats...he keeps telling me, “Yeah, I'm gonna get around to this,” and, “Yeah, we're doing that.”

He seems to have a lot of trouble focusing and getting stuff done, but whenever I ask him for anything, he's always very generous with it. There's a bunch of great black and white videos of Roy at the Armadillo. A couple of them have filtered through to Youtube – there's one of him singing “C.C. Rider.” But there's at least a half a dozen others I've seen – there's a couple with Billy Price, [the late Dick] Heintze's on the organ, Robbie Magruder on drums...so it's some cool shit.

CR: Once you resolved all the different sonic issues, how did we approach the strategy of the compiling and sequencing of this material?

TP: Well, the sonic condition of the songs has something to do with the way I sequenced [LIVE: AMAZING GRACE] – and I did choose the best-sounding stuff to go first, the stuff from the '80s [“Hot Cha,” and “Amazing Grace,” Lone Star Cafe, New York City, NY, 1983]. Those really were the best-sounding recordings. I found that was a lot easier to start out good, and sort of filter down to the lesser, rather than just start out weak, and filter up to the better, you know (laughs)? I can you tell this – I have scoured the world, and there is an extremely limited amount of stuff from that ['70s peak] era that's available. One unfortunate thing, too, is, he pretty much did the same set every night.

But, you know, I'll tell you honestly – we dug up video of four songs from “Musikladen,” in the early '70s, on German TV. The audio from one of those [“The Messiah Will Come Again”] is on the CD – but it's color, it's beautifully filmed, it's Roy at his peak. The band is great. There's one song that's not one of the usual things for him. I'd love to do a DVD of those four color clips, and a few of the Armadillo black and white clips. That would be a really great DVD, but I haven't been able to convince Judy to do that yet.

CR: People tend to forget the human dimension that gets tied up in this...I mean, she didn't just lose a great guitar player, she lost her husband.

TP: Not only that, and it was under really terrible circumstances, too.

CR: Of course, the “strange Roy” stuff – that's part of the folklore, too, isn't it?

TP: Oh, yeah, right. Right. Well, you know, isn't it odd, too, that he and Danny were probably bipolar, or at least suffered from depression of some sort? It's odd. Danny kept it hidden very well.

CR: Yes, he did...and I suspect, with Roy, it was probably the same way, too.

TP: Actually, I get the opposite [impression]. You know, the one night that I played with him at the Bayou, I sat in the dressing room with him – he didn't say a damn word. He really was an introvert, a loner type, and Danny wasn't like at all. He was very affable, very approachable, very outgoing – but Roy was very dark, and looked down at the floor, and didn't say anything. It was pretty different.

CR: So was that a letdown for you, to experience that?

TP: Well, no – I mean, I used to go see him play. I saw him do a couple shows where he turned his back to the audience, and that kind of stuff – he already had his reputation for being quirky. Early on, I had a really bad experience with Larry Carlton, where I tried to approach him at a gig one night, and he just reamed me a new asshole. So with Roy, I've always been very, very cautious about even appearing to bother anybody. And it's such a disappointment when one of your heroes turns out to be a big fuckin' jerk.

CR: I think that's why I an Hunter likes to say, “Trust the message, not the messenger...” I think that's a very good way to put it.

TP: Right. Oddly enough, I had a song demo – I was just starting out to write songs, and they were instrumentals. I gave Roy a cassette of two or three songs that I thought he might be interested in, and he just thanked me, put it in his pocket, and that was it.

CR: And that was the last you ever heard of it. Typical, right?

TP (laughs): Yeah! But even then, when I gave it [the demo tape] to him, he really didn't say anything.

CR: There are, of course, those two distinct phases of Roy, and people either like the '70s, or the '80s, but a lot of people don't necessarily like both [eras]. So, if you were on a desert island, and you were taking one of those live tapes with you, what era would you come down on, Tom? And why?

TP: '70s – because of the accompaniment, and freshness of the impression. There started to be this gradual rise and peak for Roy, starting around 1970, with the Bill Graham PBS special. He had a really great band in the Snakestretchers: he starts to rise, and he's really sort of catching on. A couple of albums [later], he's a bonafide guitar hero. Then he did lose the Snakestretchers, but the next band he had after that with Malcolm Lukens, Byrd Foster, and the bass player – that was a great fuckin' band, too. That's the band on the “Austin City Limits” video, which is really one of the best films of Roy. So – '70 to '78, I think, is really Roy's peak. He's still playing the '53 Tele, and just wailing his ass off.

CR: So what do you think changed for him, that makes the other ['80s] era not as desirable, from your point of view?

TP: Well, once you start using pickup bands, there's a lot less of that interaction – with Roy as a backdrop. The delivery sort of tends to become a little generic, I think. For example, on that “Rockpalast” European video – I think Roy is having a pretty decent night as a guitarist, but the band is really, really sort of inhibiting what's going on, because it's just so disconnected from him...I mean, you can see they're all excited to play with him, but they just can't pull it off. And also, too, they're not really his peers – whereas his other bands...

CR: They were. To be fair, I think Roy suffered from the same syndrome [as] a lot of guitar heroes of that era suffered from, which was inconsistent material...because, if you don't write your own stuff, or don't write a lot of it...then you tend to be dependent on what people give you. And you either can make something of it, or you can't.

TP: Well,yeah, his Atlantic period was disappointing. Even what on paper should have been great – like, a pairing with the Tele player from Booker T [& The MGs], Steve Cropper, doing “Green Onions” – sounds like that would be fantastic. But it's actually pretty long, and boring, and rambling. Also, fusion was starting to be popular, and they were trying to sort of, turn him into that...just have him be something that he wasn't.

CR: A lot of people didn't really know how to deal with the onslaught of fusion.

TP: Yeah. But he had a bunch of real lame material forced down his throat in the Atlantic years. I mean, what are you gonna do? Even if you're not that excited about it, after you've recorded it, you're sort of beholden to go out and perform it live, anyway. It's your current stuff.
NPR INTERVIEW: EXTENDED VERSION (9/30/09)
Feb 28, 2011
As promised, National Public Radio's long-awaited piece on Danny Gatton ran on its flagship program ("All Things Considered"), on October 4, 2009: 15 years to the day that the late instrumental musical guitar master -- known as "The Humbler," "The Master Blaster Of The Telecaster," "The World's Greatest Unknown Guitar Player," or simply, "The Telemaster," take your pick -- took his own life, and left us way too soon.

NPR's piece offered a four-and-a-half-minute primer on Gatton's legend, with all basics present and correct, as recounted by Tom Principato, longtime bassist John Previti -- who recalled Danny referring to himself as a "Whitman sampler of music" -- and myself, who'd been interviewed (9/30/09) as the author of UNFINISHED BUSINESS: THE LIFE & TIMES OF DANNY GATTON.

Kudos to NPR's producer, Phil Harrell, for being able to pack so much into such a narrow furrow, which -- of course -- is what radio production is all about!

For those who haven't heard the show, go here to find it:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=113485730

You can also read a complete transcript of all the remarks from those who participated in the program, including myself. Inevitably, my interview with Phil contained way more than he could use on the air, so here is our chat, as I recorded it, on my end. For simplicity, I grouped my responses by subject, as we talked (with minor edits to improve continuity, and eliminate repetition)...enjoy!

INTERVIEW WITH PHIL HARRELL
WHAT ARE THE MOST DISTINCTIVE ERAS OF DANNY GATTON'S CARRER?
Well, there's a couple different periods you can divide it into – the first one would, of course, would be “The Teen Phenom Period,” where he starts experimenting with multi-tracking and overdubbing like his main musical hero, Les Paul.

And, from there, it sort of segues into playing with kids in the neighborhood, and eventually, being recognized by older people that he's playing with in the area, and he starts playing in all these different bands -- bar bands, dance bands, whatever you want to call them.

So there's that basic era, and where it really starts to coalesce into something more serious, of course, is when he gets a little older, in his early '20s. By the late '60s, he's touring with Bobby Charles, a soul guy. He's basically starting out as a hired gun, getting whatever experience he can -- and, in between, making the different forays to places like Nashville -- hoping that somebody will pick up on him, and recognize his talent.

But the real snowball that goes down the hill – in terms of recgonition, at least locally – is when he joins Liz Meyer's bluegrass band, in the early '70s. That's where you start to hear him develop – at least from some of the live tapes I've acquired – those fat runs, rippling banjjo-like rolls, and country experiments with tone...all those things that became so important to the evolution of his style – along with, of course, the melodic sensibility, and his sense of jazz improvisation. And that's the blender that makes up Danny Gatton, the musician.

Like I said, I've got a bootleg recording that somebody sent me – it's from Lisner Auditorium, in Washington, D.C., in 1973. He's basically getting out the electric, and getting down on his signature showcase of that time, “Orange Blossom Special” -- which, in later years, becomes the vehicle for a medley to go into anything and everything from movie themes, to the “Linus And Lucy” theme, and back again.

WASN'T DANNY'S DAD A MUSICIAN, TOO?
That's right – his dad played in big bands in his younger days, before his family put a little pressure on him. You get that question of, “Are you gonna make a living playing that thing, son?” And so, he became a machinist, basically -- and, of course, the cycle would be repreated when Danny comes of age, and his father says, “That's a nice a way to express yourself, son, but it's no way to make a living.”

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE DANNY GATTON'S STYLE?
Well, I guess there's two phrases I like to use for that. Number one would be, “A living treasury of American musical styles” -- the roots of music, specifically country, jazz, a little bit of bluegrass – and, of course, the blues, a fixation which became quite a bit more pronounced toward the end.

That's one phrase, because -- unlike a lot of artists who tend to stick to one narrow furrow, Danny, as you probably are very well aware, mixed all of those styles up...sometimes, within the space of a song, or even a solo. So that's description number one.

The other description I'd use is, “The musical sound of thinking out loud,” and what I mean by that is – when you hear something like the live version of “Linus And Lucy” (from PORTRAITS) which then segues into this frenzied “Orange Blossom Special” medley, even within the solos he plays – you can literally almost hear him switching off from this thought, to the next, to the next.

And what's fascinating for the listener is -- you're sitting at home, thinking, “Well, how's he ever going to get out of this?” And somehow, he always does. Like a cat, he kind of lands on his feet. So that's the other phrase I would tend to use.

WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER THE DEFINITIVE DANNY GATTON ALBUM?
Well, I wouldn't have called the book UNFINISHED BUSINESS, obviously, if I didn't like the album. So that's one, because it's all-instrumental, and you hear him go through all the different styles that I've just described. So I would point to that.

Earlier in his career, I would look at REDNECK JAZZ as being the definitive statement – again, going from country, to the more redneck stuff, as you would say, the “honky-tonk Eric Clapton” -- to the lengthy instrumental explorations that he does on the live version of “Ode To Billy Joe,” and the elaborate multi-tracking on instrumentals like “Sax Fifth Avenue.”

So, I would point to that – and, later, toward the end of his career, I think he was doing some of his very best material, actually. I would suggest LIVE 9/9/94, which was not long before he passed – it shows you what he sounded like live, no tricks, no gimmicks, just Danny with his rhythm section.

And I would also point to the [RELENTLESS] album that he did with [keyboardist] Joey DeFrancesco – that's another one, if you want to hear him do the pure jazz kind of stuff that he was so good at, you listen to something like his version of “Well You Needn't”...it doesn't get any faster than that.

DANNY HAD SEVERAL BRUSHES WITH FAME, DIDN'T HE?
Well, there were many [brushes with fame], and this is something that gets explored in the book, at great length. Initially, perhaps, the first call you might suggest – or that might come to mind, even locally – was [his tenure] with the Redneck Jazz Explosion, which fused his country and jazz explorations into a more cohesive statement. And, along the way, he ran into Lowell George, from Little Feat – have you ever heard this story?

I heard different versions of this, and I wasn't able to totally pin them down, but he went with his buddy, Phil Zavarella, the owner of Zavarella's Music [to see Lowell at Lisner Auditorium]...somehow, they got backstage, and apparently, Lowell made some comments -– or, supposedly, made some overtures to joining his new band –- he was touring solo, having just left Little Feat. And then, the very next night, he dies; that was a bit of a shock to everyone. As Phil mentioned, Danny said, “Wow, I just had seen him a few hours earlier.”

Steve Wolf, the bass player from many area bands – including Redneck Jazz Explosion – swears that Danny told him he had had talks with Lowell, and was lobbying to add him to the rhythm section, and form a bans. Now, there's a lot of debate about those stories, but what's clear, at least, is that Danny sort of thought that he might be able to go somewhere if he was connected with Lowell, in some way. Don't forget, he had just been to the West Coast.

So that might be brush number one. Brush number two would be some of the overtures that he got during the '80s – John Fogerty wanted him to join his touring band, when he resurrected his career after CENTERFIELD. Have you heard that story?

Well, what happened, basically – according to his drummer, Dave Elliott -- Danny was in the garage, working on a car, when Fogerty called him up -- and made the offer. And he [Danny] said, “Well, I'll think about it,” and that was it. He forgot to call back, apparently, and that's why that didn't go anywhere – such was his reptuation, people [of Fogerty's caliber] would call him on an occasional, semi-regular basis, and think enough of him to add him, at least, as kind of a prominent hired gun to their bands.

And then you've got, maybe, the third major brush, of course – as many people in your area would see it – with the signing of the major label deal with Elektra Records. Right out of the box, he gets a Grammy nominated-albuim in 88 ELMIRA ST. And, unforutnately, it loses that year to Eric Johnson. So there's another example of coming, “Oh, so close, oh, so near, and yet so far” -- because, from the label's perspective, he fails to tour as much as he could to support the records. Therefore, they end up dropping him.

And that sets up the final phase of his career – he goes back to doing these independent one-off records, and it's re-establishing himself through that market, as it were. Why did it take so long [to get signed]? Well, to put it plainly, he didn't tour that much outside of his homegrown area.

As a musician, of course,. “touring is advertising,” as they like to say – if you don't spend that time going out to different areas, and trying to win over different audiences, then, basically, you're not going to be as well-known as somebody who does do that. I mean, technically, he only really did a couple national tours – on his own behalf, [including] the second Elektra album, CRUISIN' DEUCES...and then, of course, earlier in his career as a hired gun for Roger Miller.

They actually went to places like Australia during that era. This would be the late '70s, early '80s. I think I make a comment on this in the book – it's almost as if Jimmy Page, of Led Zeppelin, decided to stick with playing the local pub, and you could see him there every weekend, but he would never have gone beyond that.

DID PEOPLE REALLY CALL HIM "THE HUMBLER"?
That [“The Humbler”] was a nickname going around for quite awhile – that was, of course, stemming from the live tape with Robert Gordon that's now on CD. I've heard other variations on that [nickname]. Many people call him “the greatest unknown guitar player you've never heard”. Some people refer to him as “The Master Bnlaster of The Telecaster,” some, “The Telemaster” -- it seemed to almost change with the mood of the people who saw him, whatever show they saw...because, as you know, no two Danny Gatton shows were quite the same.

WHY DID DANNY GATTON KILL HIMSELF?
Well, as you probably know – there's a whole chapter dedicated to the issues arising from that [suicide death]. Number one, I think he had a long-standing issue with depression – a lot of anecdotes that I got from people, seem to bear that out.

For example, when [former Commander Cody guitarist] Bill Kirchen moved to Washington, D.C., Danny helped him get acquainted with the scene. He gave him gigs that he either didn't want to do, or didn't have time to do. One day, he [Kirchen] remembered being on a corporate gig with him – and, from out of the blue, Danny said something along the lines of, “Don't you just hate this shit?”

Bill looked at him, and thought he was joking, but it dawned on him that he was serious. And, when he tried to probe a little further, Danny kind of shut down, and didn't say anything more about it – so there were anecdotes like that, which were mentioned in the book, that would seem to suggest that [perception].

Number two, he had some physical health issues. And this is something that's [subject to] a little debate – because he was cremated afterwards, so there's no complete report. But he seemed to feel – or had either suffered a series of mini-strokes. This had impared his ability to play. And he had apparently stated, if that happened, he definitely wouldn't want to stick around – because that was the only thing -- other than working on his cars -- that gave him satisfaction, that he was able to do.

So, you've got those two forces coming together – and, as his widow Jan suggested, it was perhaps a case of all the stars falling into alignment, [including] his fears for his health, fears for his security, and...by implication...his family's security...all coming together in a mixture, I guess, of anger and frustration with his own situation. That might be the simplest way to explain it.

Many, many people expressed that sentiment, that it [Danny's action] sort of ccame from out of the blue – there were a few people who did say, “It wasn't the first time he tried, it wsa the first time he'd succeeded.” But Danny had a way of compartmentalizing his life, to the extent that some people maybe knew more what about was going on, than others – and he didn't necesasrily express what on his mind.

More than a few people said, that if his longtime friend, Billy Windsor – who died in January '94 – if had been there, that might not have happened, because Billy was one of those guys that Danny absolutely trusted, that ran interference with the outside world.

Which is another common thread you see in Danny's life story, there always seems to be a need for somebody like that – to take care of business, collect the money, book the gigs, keep people away that aren't perceived as doing any good. He could have done sessions, he could have done film scores, where his music would lend itself to that – and they pay you well, if you're in demand, and he wouldn't have really had to get on a bus all over the 50 states.

People couldn't understand how somebody who had all those things going for him could do something like that. For example, he was supposed to play a wedding gig for a fan in Arizona who was going to pay him something like $8,000, and was even going to fly them all there. A minor example, but a relevant example – and he was also going to do a tour with Arlen Roth, and they were going to work together on projects.

Of course, he's not the first [musician] who fell over that [vocal versus instrumental-only contradiction]. As his sax player, Roger McDuffie, pointed out to me once – unless you have a hit record, or something that keeps you in front of people, it's fairly easy to get overlooked. And he said, “Sad as it is, a lot of legends tend to be forgotten.”

SO DOES DANNY GATTON HAVE A LEGACY, AND IF SO, WHAT IS IT?
I think so – I mean, he has a legacy in the sense that I still field questions and emails from people constantly...not every day, or every week, but on a fairly regular basis. I'll hear from somebody who wants to know more about the man, or what you think his best stuff is – or, as you've just asked, why did he kill himself? I hear all sorts of questions like that.

And I think you can hear shis influence, maybe, in some of the current crop of multi-instrumentalists – people like Bela Fleck, for instance, who has a very heavy bluegrass oprientation to his sound – [or], on the country spectrum, people like Brad Paisley, who've certainly taken that melding of country and jazz and other musics into a different level. So I think his influence and his fingerprints are still being felt, yes, and beyond the immediate area of Washington, D.C.

And also, there's been quite a few posthumous releases, as you probably are aware – that's something, even at the cult level, that has fed into that interest that helps keep the whole body of his music alive for the next generation that wants to know more about it.
'HE WAS JUST INTO THE MUSIC": UNRELEASED MD INDEPENDENT INTERVIEW (9/19/04)
Feb 28, 2011
This 9/19/04 interview with James Hettinger occurred during my initial round of promoting UNIFINSHED BUSINESS, drumming up whatever interest I saw. As I recall, Jim contacted me on the basis of quoting his own '94 interview with "The Master Blaster of the Telecaster" in my book...and had a few more followup questions to ask, to fit into a bigger Gatton piece that he was doing.

For various boring reasons -- mainly, space and time constraints -- my comments never saw the light of day. This happens a lot in journalism, so that development didn't exactly faze me. (I believe that the story did run, but I've never seen a copy.) However, I enjoyed the interview experience so much, so, without further ado....here are the highlights of our conversation, excerpted from my archives.

MARYLAND INDEPENDENT (MI) I: How did you get interested in Danny Gatton, and doing this book about him?

CHAIRMAN RALPH (CR): Obviously, I was aware of his death, because ROLLING STONE did an obit – but it really got me thinking, because I play guitar. I thought, "Well, how did I miss this guy?" The thought just sort of stayed filed away for the next four years. Then I saw that "Titans Of The Tele" issue [in GUITAR PLAYER]. Of course, Danny was given prominent space in it.

From there, I got the idea to do an article for VINTAGE GUITAR. Once I spent major amounts of time on the phone, with some of the people in his life – like Jay Monterose, John Previti, Dave Elliott, and Ed Eastridge, of course – that's when I realized there was a story. And I was really moved by it.

To me, it was like a roots version of "Citizen Kane.” Like the people in that movie, I found myself asking, "OK, who was this guy? What did he do, and why does he matter?" That's where the momentum mushroomed into doing a book. I know that nobody was really doing anything. And it just seemed like the time was basically right.

MI: I guess there's a couple different stories to it. There's the story of his playing: what did you find interesting, or special? That's the one thing that everyone talks about, but I think there's got to be something more than that.

CR: Well, to start from the technical side – everybody talks about Danny's ability to play fast. What they often don't talk about is his execution. Many a guitar player tends to slur all their notes, slur through their phrasings – but if you listen to his stuff, you can hear every note he played. That makes him really unique, right off the bat. But what really made it interesting, from my standpoint, is the wild eclecticism of his music.

I mean, obviously, when you talk about Danny Gatton, country and jazz were the mainsprings of his musical style, no question about that. But if you listen to something like that live medley [off the PORTRAITS compilation] – from "Orange Blossom Special," to bluegrass fast-picking stuff, to "Linus & Lucy” – there aren't too many people in his realm so fearless about mixing up styles and genres. That's one reason why a lot of people go back to his music. And you don't need to be a hot licks player to appreciate it. As a listener, you can find something different every time that you didn't hear before. To me, that's the measurement of a great artist.

MI: He did have that approach, where he would just latch on to anything. I know that [version of] "Ode To BIlly Joe" [from REDNECK JAZZ] is not anybody's idea of a jazz standard, but he takes it and kind of runs with it. To me, that was what made him sort of fun to listen to. You never knew what was going to come next.

CR: Sure. You may the recall the interview I quoted in the book, around the Elektra era: “If you can't play something that you didn't play before, that's not progressing.” That comment is as good a summary of his approach, as any. A lot of people would just settle: "That will do, that's fine." But, as you know, Danny was not that way at all. He was reaching for something new and different every time. Hence, some of the frustration, when he didn't get it.

MI: You wonder how much that all plays in. I know you get into this in the book – that unwillingness to compromise maybe did sort of hurt him commercially?

CR: When you sign to a major label, as I point out in the book, there are definite expectations. If somebody signs to a major, they're looking to sell a certain number of records. They're looking for you to do certain things that will sell that number of records. But deep down, Danny had a certain line he was not willing to cross, in terms of his artistry. And that would have been difficult to bridge, anyway. Quite aside from that issue – big-time music, by and large, is not friendly to instrumentalists...I mean, instrumental music hasn't been on the radio since, what, the Ventures?

MI: Yeah. Really, there was that era, but it was way back then. There aren't any instrumental guitar hits these days. Do you think he was afraid of being a success, or didn't want to grab it that hard?

CR: There is some evidence to support that. The most obvious example is the REDNECK JAZZ situation. He's got a hot band, they're making it up and down the [East] Coast, at least. Then he hurts his hand – and that effectively takes him out of circulation, just at a point where they could maybe have really done something.

The other problem was, he didn't really like to tour. He preferred to play locally, where he thought people appreciated him more...and, presumably, where he could be closer to his family. Obviously – if you don't adopt that [touring] lifestyle, it's going to make it a lot harder for people to see you.

But, as we know, he didn't really get into the session musician world, either –as his daughter [Holly] said, he really hated people telling him what to play. And many of those situations, from what I was able to research, were not that satisfying for him. So, in that sense, he really did fall between two chairs.

MI: I remember that day I chatted with him. I'd read in the Washington Post that he'd had a chance to play with John Fogerty, doing one of his comebacks. I said, "C'mon, how could you lose John Fogerty's number?" [Danny said:] "I didn't lose it, I was busy working on my hot rods here, and I just didn't want to do it." That just floored me, because when I was growing up, Creedence [Clearwater Revival] was the hottest band in the world. How could you walk away from a gift, to play with John Fogerty? I guess he didn't see it that way. It was another sideman gig.

CR: Yeah, that was probably part of it. That interview you did was really interesting, because it's a good window into his state of mind at that time, I think...

MI: I hope it is. I've wondered about that over the years. I mean, it's kind of ironic. The whole tone of that [2/94 interview] was how content he was, and that was about eight months before he killed himself. He couldn't have been all that content. But it was, I think, an accurate reflection of the hour I spent talking to him.

I mean, I'd read a bunch of those stories about "The Great Unknown Guitar Player"; I just wondered if he saw himself that way – this guy who hadn't quite made it. As he told me, it didn't seem like that was a big thing nagging at him. He did seem pretty happy, at that point. I'll never forget: I'd actually left the paper, at that point, when somebody called, and told me [of his death]. I was kind of stunned.

CR: If you look back over the years, it's obvious he had some frustrations and heartaches that plagued him from time to time – there's always this "push-pull" [effect in his life]. He gets this Redneck Jazz band together...hurts his hand...then goes back to working on cars and playing in tiny little dives. Eventually, he gets himself back in circulation, gets tired of it – goes back to working on cars. The quote by Shannon Ford is indicative of that [situation]: "We were always frustrated in dealing with the fact that this passions were so divided."

MI: I'm sure that people did feel that way. How do you look at him now? It's a tragedy whenever anybody ends their own life. Is it just a puzzle we'll never really understand – why he killed himself, why he never became as big as he should have been?

CR: Well, as far as his level of acceptance, I think it's relatively clear why he didn't get there. And I outlined those reasons in the book. As far as the personal side, I'm not sure we'll ever know what went on that particular day. As his daughter said, he was making more money locally than he'd ever made before – he wasn't having to go out and work every weekend, or every week, like in the past. So, from that level, he should have been fixed [financially]. Though when we talk about the physical problems that are mentioned [in the book] – if he couldn't have continued to play – in his mind, that would have been the end of life itself.

Regardless how his life ended, it was an extraordinary life. It's pretty clear: he touched everybody on a certain level, whether they were fellow guitar players, fellow guitar enthusiasts, or what have you. As [keyboardist] BIll Holloman mentions, there was always this collection of characters in the dressing room after the gigs – I mean, you've got to have something pretty special, in order to do that.

MI: Yeah. Even though he was not a natural frontman, and not the kind of guy to joke around up onstage, he did have a certain charisma to him. And maybe part of it was just from having this incredible talent.

CR: And when you look at him in those videotapes, what really is impressive is how powerful that charisma is. He doesn't jump around. He doesn't talk to the audience that much. He basically just closes his eyes, and plays. In this culture, where everything is slam-bang, and [about] “noise, noise, noise” – maybe that was something that people found refreshing, on a certain level.

MI: Yeah, I think that might be part of it. He was just into the music, not the showmanship aspects of it...or the business side of the music business.

CR: Look at all those people in the Top 10 or 20 today – the music almost seems to be an afterthought. Danny was unique in his stubbornness; for him, it was obvious. The music was everything. Now, whether it would have been the only ingredient needed to take it to something bigger – obviously, there was an issue. But when I researched and talked to everybody, that was one thing I came to really respect. He didn't leave his artistry by the wayside. That takes a certain amount of stubbornness, bloody-mindedness and guts to do, because this culture is always going to point you in the opposite direction. Take it from me, I know!

MI: Yeah, I guess that is kind of a sad thing. The reason I got the idea to do this – I saw this latest Funhouse record that's coming out. That's a wonderful CD. You know, the albums that came out in his lifetime were "here and there," and on small labels....

CR: They were basically homegrown indie productions, for the most part.

MI: Yeah. I don't think Stevie Ray Vaughan has to worry about his legacy fading away; something's gonna be in print on big labels. Where will Danny Gatton's music be 10 years from now?

CR: The legacy basically is going to be a roots musician who was a fearless improviser, but also, a resolute melodic constructor. And people are going to look at him certainly as a template for how to do those type of things – being able to take chances, and making them pay off. For the average listener, it's just going to be something they can take pleasure in. When they stick that CD back in the player, they're going to get something different than they got last time. How many big-time artists can you say that about today, truthfully?

MI: Right. Yeah, that is true...

CR: Danny's not only going to be looked at as an instrumental interpreter, but somebody that took the template of roots music, country, and jazz, and just put it together in a way that made sense to him. Nobody is ever going to play like him, let alone match the virtuosity that he had – but if it encourages people to take a few more chances [than usual], that's a pretty good legacy to build on right there, for anybody. That was one thing I wanted to get across – that it's still possible to stumble across something, and be absolutely thrilled by what you find.

MI: Do you have a hard time convincing people that he was good as he was, if they're not familiar with him? That's what I've come across in trying to tell people, [that] he really was as good as Eric Clapton, Duane Allman, whoever you want to name. They have a hard time accepting that: "If he was so good, how come I never heard of him?"

CR: Funnily enough, I've sold quite a few copies around here where I live – just by explaining the story, and not getting into so many of the comparisons. It works better if you try to tell people: "Well, here is a guy that was humble and talented in his own way, but just never quite got all the breaks he really needed." People can empathize with it, from that angle. As far as the genre-hopping – "He was good as this guy, or that" – everybody's got their own likes and dislikes, anyway.

MI: But it seems like you did a real good job. Honestly, I've not read the whole thing, but I've been skimming it. I bought it long ago. I'm impressed by the manner of detail, the number of people that you talked to, and it does give a good picture of what these various scenes here were like, which is impressive...because you weren't really here for that, you know?

CR: No, but I'm a musician myself. I've had some of those same struggles, too – how do you get heard? That's the bottom line, you know; how do you reach the people you're trying to reach? And are you sure, once you've played, that you've gotten across what you wanted to get across?

That's why I subtitled it THE LIFE + TIMES OF DANNY GATTON – because he spanned four decades...'60s, '70s, '80s, '90s...and, if you think about it, he was always a man out of time in each one, the most obvious example being the years with Bobby Charles. We've got the height of the counterculture, and here he is putting on tuxedos, playing supper clubs for money.

MI: Looking back, was there one thing where you got to thinking, "Man, if he'd just caught that one break, everything would have been different?"

CR: Obviously, if the Fat Boys hadn't broken up at a certain point, because that was a band that made a lot of noise around the area, and people still speak of reverently, OK? If the Redneck Jazz Explosion had kept working, gotten beyond the East Coast – that's another obvious example. You can find almost one or two examples like in that each decade, probably...of course, if he'd called John Fogerty back, and played with his band...who knows, that could have opened up some doors for him.

MI: Yeah, you wonder about that. Fogerty does an album like, once every 10 years, I guess (laughs), but would that have opened [Gatton] to getting a job with another band, or getting session work, or something [else]?

CR: If he'd gone to Europe, he might have actually done pretty well there, too. Because that's a place that always appreciates an eclectic artist like Danny Gatton, more so – arguably – than we do here at home...

MI: Yeah. Jazz musicians can make it big in Europe, but are not really very well-known here...

CR: When I was talking to Brooks Tegler – he puts together these all-star jazz big bands, and tours Japan – he made the comment, "If Danny had gotten to Japan, he would have probably liked it enough, he might never have wanted to come home." This is a country that puts out 10-CD boxed sets by Hank Williams – they can't get enough of that stuff. If he'd done something like that [tour overseas], perhaps it could have counterbalanced whatever he wasn't able to do here, commercially speaking...or, if Lowell George hadn't died...

MI: Yeah, that was another one I was going to bring up. In the book, there was some debate about whether that really was a firm offer to join the band, or just to come and sit in with them for one day, or whatever.

CR: Well, you see people going down on both sides of the question, although it's clear that [bassist] Steve Wolf felt there was something going on, because Danny told him. Now, whether this is something that Danny believed, or was really going on, we'll never know...both those guys [Danny, Lowell] are no longer here. But it certainly would have made sense, because you had two guys that shared a lot of the same roots, but also, the same tendencies. As you know, Lowell was well-known as a perfectionist, too. Now, whether you could have had two perfectionists in the same band, I don't know...

MI: That would have been interesting, though, certainly, to see what they came up with. You just kind of wonder – I guess it is just a bunch of missed opportunities. How much was bad luck, how much of it was just, not going hard enough at the stuff?

CR: As I say in the book – one of the horrible things that any musician has to accept is just how much is outside your control. Because you can work hard, but if something doesn't fall together in a certain way, you can still be left out in the cold. That's why it's such a hard life, at a certain level. If you don't catch the trend, if your record doesn't get played, if the company lets you down – there's just so many variables that can go wrong. It takes a strong person to persevere through it. Publishing is sort of like that, too!

MI: I guess that's true, in some ways – you've got this book, and now you can retire [laughs]?

CR: Not quite, but I've been working it pretty hard, as you can imagine. The [11/07/03 ] appearance in D.C. [at Olsson's Books & Records] – that was [suggested by] a gentleman named Charlie D. Young, a sales rep for Simon & Schuster. He said, "This might be worth your time and trouble." And it was. That was my favorite one [appearance], for sure. That was the best-attended, we had the best crowd, and people asked really intelligent questions, you know?

MI: Yeah, I think you've done a good job with that. Well, I think I've taken up enough of your time. Unfortunately, our paper's not on the Internet, but I could send you a copy of the story when it comes out.

CR: OK, yeah, I'd love to see what you do, that'd be fascinating.
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