Beck-ola...

March 25th – It seems to be the lot of great talent or great music to be reduced down to the lowest common denominator.

You know how it goes; you sit and write a classic song, you slave over the lyrics and where the tension in the music should be, where the release. You nurture it through the rehearsal stage and into the recording studio where hours of post-recording time are used up as you balance and mix the raw sound into a coherent whole that is fit to be released into the world. People listen to it, they buy it in their droves until it becomes one of the pieces of your art that defines your life…right up to the point where it gets picked up by a detergent company or the drunken mob; from then on, if you've got anything left of your soul, its set to haunt you. 

I've sort of brushed up against Jeff Beck before in these musings of mine (Jan 10th…and my guess is you already know what’s coming) when I vented my spleen at Mr. Stewart. But with the news that he’d joined the Yardbirds (Mr. Beck not Mr. Stewart that is) on this day in 1965, I thought a few more words about a guitarist who is so underrated wouldn't go amiss.

As I also mentioned on that same day, one of my top 25 albums is ‘Truth’ by Jeff Beck (with Beck and various artists). Tracks like, ‘Aint Superstitious’, Shapes of Things’ (a Yardbirds hit that I've also mentioned before) and ‘Blues Deluxe’ (if you’re in any way, shape or form a blues fan – music not football team…in their case, I use the word, ‘football’ in its loosest possible sense…then I really can’t recommend that track any higher) but the whole album never, ever fails to impress; not a duff track on it. Anyway, moving on, Mr. Beck’s done all modern music genres and the who’s-who he’s played with is eye-watering, as is the list of bands that wanted him to join them or that have got him to guest with them.

(How good?  Stop reading this rubbish, go onto YouTube and call up ‘jeff beck live’ then sit back and watch the full Ronnie Scott’s Show…one hour forty of sheer talent with moments that will take your breath away, if you’re living that is, PLUS the only bass player, apart from Bob Clifton, that I’d like date. The bass solo at about 12 minutes in proves she’s not just there for her looks; she even makes Beck up his game…Oh, and for the drummers amongst you…a better than average tub-thumper too, IMHO)

OK? Done it? Back now? Right.

Now, with so much seemingly going for him it seems odd that he’s virtually unknown outside the muso-circles of the period (mainly 60’s/70’s) and the sad fuckers like me. However, I guarantee that if I said, “Hi-Ho, Silver Lining”, you’d make an immediate connection, but unfortunately not with who played it; am I right or am I right?

Part of the problem seems to be his level of equanimity within the band dynamic – when the Yardbirds were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame he made his acceptance speech:

“Someone told me I should be proud tonight... But I'm not, because they kicked me out....They did... Fuck them.”

This take no prisoners attitude also comes to the fore, apparently, when recording too. It is said to be his fastidiousness about the production values and his own contribution to the finished article that can stretch the band model to breaking point (to the point where there’s a tale that after returning to the studio to do countless re-takes and overdubs, he rang the studio some six weeks after the recording sessions had ended to book some time to re-record the lead break only to be told, ‘Sorry, Jeff, but the record’s in the shops’). But I think possibly the main reason he’s not bigger in the national music conscience is because he’s never really been part of an established band; no recognisable template with which to associated him with.

It would seem he’s been a journeying musician and session man for just about the whole of his career and through that, all musicians of any notable quality rate him; he is, in fact, the guitarist’s guitarist. We’re talking about a musician who’s got two honorary degrees, a fistful of Grammys, has won Mojo awards, been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and has played with anybody who is anybody in the modern-music world, and yet no one knew of him…not until ‘Hi-Ho, Silver Lining’ hit the scene.

And that will probably be the one he’s remembered for.

The one that piss-heads-united sing, the one that’s immediately followed by the sound of vomiting, the one every drunken up-chucker knows the words to even and above their own name. Great; some legacy…