Chairman Ralph's Ministry Of Truth

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.