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Tuesday, September 27, 2005
“Mr. Kodak, Mr. Bowie, and Mr. Tickler, your table is ready” | ![]() |
What do you want to be doing when you’re 91? Me, my aims are modest. Although it would be thrilling indeed if I were one of those spry nonagenarians who still get around fine on their own, live full lives, and trade witty and cantakerous banter with three or four generations of descendents, I will settle for merely drawing breath and retaining a few teeth, some mental acuity, and the power to fuck at a time and place of my own choosing. That’s not so much to ask, is it?
What does Les Paul do at 91? Well, the inventor of the electric guitar still keeps a weekly gig at the jazz club Iridium in Manhattan and somehow finds the wherewithal to participate in a new album. I say “participate” because the album isn’t so much a Les Paul recording as it is a tribute to the man, sort of a roast in reverse, a féte in which the Gods of Rock pay homage to the god that made them.
The album in question, Les Paul & Friends, American Made/World Played is several things: an enjoyable romp by a past master of the guitar; a guest-packed tribute to that master; and an ad brochure for the Gibson Les Paul guitar. After all “American Made, World Played” is a registered trademark of the Gibson guitar company, and making it the title of a Les Paul record is simultaneously nifty and really, really cheesy. Kind of like the record itself, but more on that in a moment.
The obvious point of comparison for any album of this kind is with Sinatra’s Duets records, but there are some important differences to note. On Duets Sinatra had it both ways, literally phoning in some of the performances on Duets II via fiber optic line, and yet never ever letting one of his duet partners steal the spotlight. The result was music by Sinatra, with some guests along for the ride.
In contrast, although Les Paul actually plays his instrument on each track on American Made/World Played, his contributions tend to fade deep into the mix, letting his guests take the spotlight. Even though it is ostensibly a Les Paul record, it is through his legacy that Paul influences the proceedings most. Perhaps this speaks to an important personality difference between the larger-than-life Frank Sinatra and the homey and self deprecating Les Paul. Or, perhaps when you cram performances by Keith Richards, Buddy Guy, and Rick Derringer together into one song, the Chairman himself wouldn’t get a shoo-be-doo-be-do in edgewise.
It is this logjam of egos that is obviously the biggest challenge to an album of this kind. And what a collection of heavy hitters! The level of star power on American Made World Played staggers the mind, and every track has been carefully engineered to give them their space. Here is merely a selection: on guitar; Kenny Wayne Shepard, Eric Clapton, Peter Frampton, Billy Gibbons, Neal Schon, Jeff Beck, Richie Sambora, Buddy Guy, Keith Richards, Rick Derringer, Steve Miller, and Joe Perry; on vocals, Gibbons, Guy, Johnny Rzeznik, Miller, Gibbons, Edgar Winter, the great Sam Cooke and the soon great Joss Stone. Rhythm duties are held down by studio legends like bassists Will Lee and Abe Laboriel, Sr. and drummers Kenny Aronoff, Vinnie Colaiuta, and Abe Laboriel, Jr. Even if you don’t believe that Richie Sambora is fit to lick the mud from Jeff Beck’s shoe, that’s a Murderer’s Row of talent. A 1927 Yankees, a 1975 Reds, a 1985 Celtics. And if Richie Sambora doesn’t measure up, well, every championship team needs a utility infielder.
To be honest, it is hard to tell why Richie Sambora (not to pick on him) and Neil Schon are even on this record- they don’t sound noticeably Les Paul-influenced, coming instead from the more diffuse tradition that gave us what I dub the Travel Bands (Asia, Boston, Journey, Europe, etc.). On the same note, the blooze-rock tracks that pepper the album’s running order are also a bit puzzling, since Les Paul never really did that kind of thing at all; their inclusion seems like a small failure of taste and courage on the part of the producers.
With all the egos bouncing around, sometimes they win the day, such as when Neal Schon wastes a shockingly intense vocal performance by Mary Hart on the blues crawl “I Wanna Know You.” Schon squirts deedly blooze lines over, around, and right on top of Hart’s deep reading, practically breaking his fingers to upstage her. Frank Zappa once made fun of musicians who made faces while they played what he called the “I’m squirtin’ now!” note. Schon achieves the truly Tantric feat of squirtin’ all over everything in sight for a full six minutes and 21 seconds.
Luckily, most selections stay closer to the other end of the spectrum, perhaps even too much so. Les Paul is - seriously - the Guitarist’s Guitarist, the man who invented the instrument, invented much of its vocabulary, and invented the first electronic effects to go with it, and it seems that his presence reduces even the greatest stars to sidemen. On the blues-rock romp “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl,” I can’t tell Keith Richards apart from Buddy Guy, Les Paul, session man Hiram Bullock, and the criminally underrated Rick Derringer. The track is mixed beautifully; all the parts are separated nicely. And yet, except for the odd moment when Buddy Guy’s tone does the Buddy Guy thing, he pretty much sounds the same as the other guys. This is a little disappointing, considering the prospect of hearing Rick Derringer rip it up with Buddy Guy.
But for the most part the album achieves a nice balance between ego and modesty, and is at minimum eminently listenable. Whereas such a logjam of talent could easily devolve into twelve dire tracks of “1000 Guitars Jamming on ‘Freebird’,” only a few tracks descend to that numbing level of wankery. Most are much more distinctive. This is especially impressive since (of course) all the songs were cobbled together from various takes and contributions made at different times by musicians who never met in the studio.
The difference between what works and not is not always easy to pin down. Why is the version of U2’s “All I Want Is You” with Les Paul, The Goo Goo Dolls’ Johnny Rzeznik and the great Peter Frampton a stronger track than “So Into You” with Frampton and Les Paul alone? Or why does “Bad Case of Lovin’ You” with Billy Gibbons work better than the aforementioned “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl?” It all seems to come down to accidental chemistry.
In general the idiosyncratic pairings are the most successful, like “(Ain’t That) Good News” in which Sam Cooke gospels over a fast shuffle beat while Jeff Beck and Les Paul spray sharp little notes all over the landscape (I wonder if Beck was playing his -no!- Fender Stratocaster?), or the really natural pairings like Billy Gibbons’ turn on the surprisingly strong “Bad Case of Loving You” and Steve Miller’s revisiting of “Fly Like an Eagle.” Youth also seems to help - relative newcomers Kenny Wayne Shepherd and Joss Stone have a great time with Sting in wrenching a snaky, stylish mood out of “Love Sneakin’ Up On You,” and Shepherd also has fun on a slowed-down “Rock & Roll, Hoochie Koo,” which misses a bit only because Edgar Winter’s voice is now gravelly beyond parody. I should also mention that Sam Cooke also shines on “Somebody Ease My Troublin’ Mind,” a slow soul cooker featuring Eric Clapton in a fantastic supporting role. This track is the class of the whole album.
But the really interesting stuff is Les Paul’s own recordings. Paul has had more than fifty years in which to perfect the art of expressing himself musically through a cascade of electronic intermediaries. The results are a couple modest little master classes in the right way to do it. The album starts off with the theme from the old Les Paul & Mary Ford radio show, with Paul diddling around in upper-register whole tone scales that positively reek of black and white televisions and stentorian voices lecturing about “SCIENCE!” Elsewhere, Paul loads a cover of the jazz chestnut “Caravan” with funky echo and pitch-doubling effects, and his playing, though no longer lightning fast (every great player loses a step or two when they turn 90), is expressive, nuanced, and drenched in Paul’s playful personality.
On the other hand, a remix of the old Les Paul and Mary Ford hit “How High The Moon” is decorated with breathy melismas by Alsou and is really more a vehicle for electronic sound effects and a cute bit of Les & Mary banter about Paul’s “Paulverizer,” one of his innumerable electronic inventions. Although it’s nice, it would have been nicer to leave in more of the original track, including Paul’s solo. Still, these little bits of random playfulness manage to cut the tone of the album enough to make it feel human, make it feel like a Les Paul recording.
By and large Les Paul & Friends, American Made/World Played is an okay, not great, romp through the id of the American electric guitar tradition, featuring reverent liner notes essays by Steve Miller and Keith Richards, and pulling mostly tasteful performances out of an armada of guitar slingers. Even if it never quite comes together in a way that satisfies, some of the individual tracks are well worth your time if you’re a fan of the fretboard. Mostly, it’s just gratifying to see Les Paul still kicking out the jams without fanfare or apology at an age when most people’s horizons have devolved to “I wonder what’s for lunch today.” I don’t mean to harp on the age thing as though Les Paul were some sort of dancing bear (’the wonder is not that it dances well but that it dances at all’
. It is simply nice to see someone in the seventh decade of their career still out there doing it and clearly enjoying themselves immensely. If anything, therein lies the lasting value of this album.
Capitol Records has thoughtfully provided audio streams for your edification of three cuts off American Made/World Played. I strongly recommend “Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo” and “Bad Case of Lovin’ You” if you like that ‘70s FM rock sound. I recommend “Let Me Roll It” if you like Richie Sambora.
Rock And Roll Hoochie Koo:
Windows Media
RealONE
Let Me Roll It:
Windows Media
RealONE
Bad Case Of Lovin You:
Cross posted to blogcritics.org
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