Down below is “Cut My Wings,” by Seasick Steve. Watch, listen, then read on.
Seasick Steve is literally one of those dudes who had been around forever, and then suddenly came from out of nowhere. He was born in 1941 in Oakland, CA, ran away from home at 13, lived the life of a hobo, started playing in the blues scenes of the 60s (He reportedly knew and was friends with Janis Joplin and Joni Mitchell), and then traveled some more. He produced Modest Mouse’s first album and was friends with Kurt Cobain. He moved to Paris and was a busker, or street musician. Then he moved to Norway, and his first album ever came out in 2004, and is called Cheap. His breakthrough finally came in 2006 with appearances on the BBC. Bear in mind Steve was about 65 years old by that time. It took that long to get his day in the sun. Like I said, he’s been doing this his whole life, and then suddenly blindsided the world.
Steve’s music delves into the numerous odd jobs he’s held as a drifter and day laborer, moving throughout North America and the US, and stories about his abusive stepdad. His music consists of basically a 3-string guitar, cigar box guitars, his voice, and stomping his foot for percussion. “Dog House Boogie,” is one of those autobiographical accounts. Note how, like John Lee Hooker’s famous “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer,” it follows a steady, throbbing groove over which Steve freely improvises and narrates his verses. This is old style, storyteller blues that is not commonly touched on by the slicker, rock-influenced blues players dominating blues festivals these days.
Lots of hipsters out there have been throwing together lo fi, blues and folk influenced music, slapping the “indie rock” label on it, and getting tons of praise for their so-called authenticity. The White Stripes and Black Keys came along, and now there are tons of skinny white guys trying to throw down out of tune, dirty blues-inflected recordings in basements to show how “real” they are. Seasick Steve is real. He’s the guy Jack White wants to be. That’s all that really needs to be said about him. I put “Unsung Guitar Hero” on this entry largely because up until about 4 years ago, that very much applied to Mr. Steven Wold. It doesn’t anymore, thankfully. To close here is “One True,” which is yes, about Seasick Steve’s dog. And why not? Lightnin’ Hopkins would’ve sang about his dog if it died. Its the blues and that’s what the blues is about.
Before this edition of Unsung Guitar Hero starts, a little clarification: some blues and rock fans are going to see Jimmie’s name in the title behind “unsung” and throw a fit. They’ll say, “Jimmie’s not unsung! He was in the Fabulous Thunderbirds! He’s Stevie Ray Vaughn’s brother!”
And that last statement is exactly why this piece focuses on the elder Vaughn brother. To put it succinctly ever since Stevie Ray Vaughn died in August 20 years ago, there have spawned no less than 2,000 different Stevie Ray clones per day, each playing the same licks Stevie Ray made famous into the ground, along with covering every Jimi Hendrix song Stevie himself covered, in thousands of blues clubs, blues festivals and bars across America. Having gone to a few of these myself, I can promise you I’ve heard “Voodoo Child,” and “Pride and Joy,” done by more mediocre, Stratocaster-slinging Stevie Ray Vaughnabees more times than will ever be necessary. As great as SRV was, and original his sound was at the time, 20 years later hero worship is choking the life out of blues rock guitar and encouraging mediocrity more often than greatness. Imitation is flattery, but over-imitation is cultish and smothering.
Thankfully then Jimmie is still here, keeping the Vaughn legacy aflame and sounding absolutely nothing like his more famous brother. He is a titan in the Austin, TX music scene, a veteran hitmaker with the Fabulous Thunderbirds, and a vastly underrated solo artist outside blues rock circles. On that front he’s been laying low for quite a while, but is due to release a new disc soon.
Jimmie Vaughn’s career parallels the renaissance of Austin, TX blues that occurred in the late 60′s. His first brush with fame was with blues legend WC Clark, the Godfather of Austin Blues. In fact it was witnessing a session with Vaughn that convinced Clark to quit the R&B Joe Tex band, come back to Austin and start a series of bands featuring eventual Austin legends like Vaughn, Lou Ann Barton and Billy Gibbons. At one point Vaughn even opened for the Jimi Hendrix Experience. In 1974, Vaughn helped found the Fabulous Thunderbirds, itself now an icon on the blues scene, and this relationship lasted until 1989.
With the T-Birds Vaughn brought vitality to Austin blues and was part of the 80s blues revival, which of course included his oft-mentioned little brother Stevie, blues prodigy Jeff Healey, and helped foster today’s blues festivals and scenes. The T-Birds’ first albums came out in 1979 and 1980. They are considered significant modern blues albums, won them critical acclaim and the kudos of rock icons like the Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton.
Vaughn’s playing is hugely influenced by old blues masters Albert King, Johnny “Guitar” Watson and BB King. His playing is characterized by a trebly, quacky tone with brief, punchy licks punctuated by just a touch of vibrato. Vaughn has in guitar magazine interviews proclaimed he intends to play his guitar like a horn, meaning brass instruments have influence on his phrasing. With that restraint he made a very capable sideman and foil to singer Kim Wilson’s bravado. “Full Time Lover,” shows Vaughn fluttering behind Wilson’s throaty vocals, making a perfect pair backed by a tight rhythm section.
The T-Birds’ early albums did not sell well, probably due to the public’s taste for new wave, synth pop and heavy metal at the time. They followed up with 1981′s R&B-influenced Butt-Rockin’ (I am not sure if they knew the irony of that title at the time), and 82′s T-Bird Rhythm, a 4-star rated album by Allmusic. Blues still wasn’t selling well on the national front though and Chrysalis Records dropped the band after this latter effort. This caused the T-Birds and Jimmie Vaughn to focus on touring.
For the 50s/60s R&B tones of Butt-Rockin’ and T-Bird Rhythm’s tackling of blues and early rock and roll covers, Vaughn’s tone shines. He shows a clear affection for the hallmark sounds of Chess and Stax records artists, and the watery, reverb-laden, twangy guitar sounds of that era. On “Neighbor Tend to Your Business,” a clear affection for the classic soul and R&B sound is present, with Vaughn putting his guitar through a Leslie speaker for warbly, organ-like tones.
In that 4 year gap, while the T-Birds were out slogging it in clubs again and building a new fanbase, Stevie Ray Vaughn had his controversial Montreux Jazz Fest appearance, which led to his discovery by David Bowie, which in turn led to SRV’s appearance on Let’s Dance, then solo glory, and basically the revitalization of blues-based rock in the US. Here the younger brother’s success was a boon, for the Fabulous Thunderbirds were signed to a new deal and put out Tuff Enuff in 1986. This was the T-Birds’ watershed moment, for the leading single and title track was featured in the movies Gung Ho and Tough Guys, pushing it to #10 on the Billboard charts. Follow-up single “Wrap It Up,” failed to chart as well, but had the same movie soundtrack appearances and is a classic rock staple today.
Tuff Enuff is a great starting point for the T-Birds’ catalog and a good slice of Vaughn’s tone, phrasing and licks on display. His vibe echoes 60′s secret agent coolness with every note he plucks. The title track of this album does as good a job as any of conveying this, especially with the opening lick, laden with reverb and tremolo to telegraph the slickness and style of a 50s convertible:
The T-Birds only nibbled on chart success after 86′s triumph, but by that point wonders had been done for their reputation and standing in the national blues scene. 87′s Hot Number and a musical feature in the comedy Hot Pursuit kept the band on the public’s radar. 1988 saw the group reach some mild success again with Powerful Stuff, and yet another movie music inclusion, this time on Tom Cruise vehicle Cocktail, whose soundtrack was laden with rock icons like Little Richard and the Beach Boys.
Powerful Stuff‘s title track is an example of the smooth, slick 80s production style that dominated most blues and other guitar-based recordings of that time. The T-Birds’ 50s revivalist sound loves it though, and its inclusion with a bunch of other golden era rockers on the Cocktail soundtrack has the effect of sonically placing them within the same brotherhood as the T-Birds’ forbears. The title track’s mid-tempo boogie could dovetail in the soundtrack of just about any late 80s movie that featured a car chase, bar fight or road trip.
1989 was the last year Vaughn would ever be featured as a T-Bird, for he desired to expand his dimensions with solo work and a long-awaited album with brother Stevie. That latter desire was fulfilled with Family Style, the only joint Vaughn bros recording, and reportedly Stevie Ray’s last recording sessions ever. Here is the first and only chance to see how the brother’s very individualistic and different approaches to guitar compliment each other; Stevie with his lush, midrange-loving, bell-like Strat tones, and Jimmie coming with an ice-cold, laid back, Strat quack. Where Stevie was wooly and wild Jimmie sings like he has it under control at all times; Jimi Hendrix jamming with James Bond. Family Style‘s material was mostly penned by the brothers, though Denny Freeman, Nile Rogers and Doyle Bramhall show up in the writing credits also.
Jimmie’s style moves towards the Albert King dimension on Family Style, while Stevie starts to employ the twang for with which his older brother is associated. It’s interesting to see them work together and even blend as a unit, rather than stay put in their idiosyncrasies. For this mixture and the historic relevance, Family Style is a desirable record. Otherwise it’s actually kind of flat compared to the brothers’ separate works. That said it’s got a three star rating from Allmusic and does have a couple exceptional tracks, notably “Hillbillies from Outer Space.” This album features Jimmie’s debut on vocals, as “White Boots,” demonstrates:
In the wake of Stevie’s death, which vaulted him to iconic status, Jimmie embarked on a solo career, along with appearing on several of his friends’ and heroes’ albums. Here Vaughn concentrated his sound and style down into the soul-influenced tone he’d been applying to T-Birds’ records. Doo-wop, R&B, gospel and Texas blues canon inform most of Jimmie’s solo work, which began with 1994′s Strange Pleasure, a highly rated album with a lot of critical lauding to its credit. Blues by this point was not in the pop music conversation anymore, as 70s rock nostalgia washed over the country and alternative rock ruled the airwaves, but stalwarts like Vaughn enjoyed the growing blues festival circuit that benefited in part by the nostalgic movement, with many fans looking to blues to fill the gap of guitar heroes modern rock now lacked. He also still had his strong, Austin base and marked this with guest spots on Austin City Limits and jams with his old friends.
“Boom Bapa Boom,” from Strange Pleasure is an excellent example of Vaughn’s fondness for R&B at play. It is laconic in delivery, and sounds like it should be blasted from the radio of a well-tuned classic Chevy. It evokes the evening cruise of a popular boulevard, and the smoky stillness of a club deep into a late night gig. Vaughn’s lead lines are swift, to the point and exist solely to serve the song’s tone.
With the strong debut of Strange Pleasure Jimmie rolled right into his sophomore solo album, Out There, with minimal to no changes to the formula. It’s hard to even call it a formula for by this point, Vaughn was well into his 4th decade as a performer. At this stage he basically had a sound, a style, and it was his and he owned it. He changed it up a bit with 2001′s Do You Get the Blues though, by bringing in old friend Lou Ann Barton and organist Bill Willis, while omitting a bass guitarist, to add some spice, jazz and funk to his repertoire. “In the Middle of the Night,” finds Vaughn’s matured voice, and stealthily stinging licks covering Johnny “Guitar” Watson with Double Trouble backing him, and perhaps is an example of Vaughn’s solo style achieving full bloom.
Following Do You Get the Blues, Jimmie went off on a long journey. He took music lessons, which he still takes to this day, played the Austin blues scene, the blues festival scene and started earning some of that long-due recognition. In fact with just about any SRV retrospective you can guarantee there is a section discussing Jimmie inspiring his younger brother to play, how Stevie got his first Fender guitar from him, and how Jimmie introduced Stevie to the music of Jimi Hendrix, Albert King and Johnny Watson. Jimmie was honored by Fender with a signature model Stratocaster, which remains in production today. At last in 2010 Jimmie will release Plays Blues, Ballads and Favorites, a self-produced effort that Jimmie claims will be loaded up with some of his favorite blues and R&B tunes. A great interview with Jimmie is in the July 2010 edition of Guitar World.
Hopefully with Vaughn still active, still learning and exploring he will achieve more fame outside the blues circle and tap into some of that mainstream appeal his brother has been associated with since his tragic passing 20 years ago.
Last time we took a look at Tommy Bolin, journeyman fusion/blues/rock virtuoso that had tons of prodigious talent and managed a very impressive resume before his very unfortunate demise. This time let’s profile another lost, supremely talented name to rock guitar whose own life was tragically cut short.
Criss Oliva was born in Pompton Plains, New Jersey, and was the younger brother of Jon Oliva. Their family and they moved about the country before settling in Florida, which is where both Oliva brothers’ careers began. Criss was mostly self-taught, intensively figuring out the notes to his favorite songs, and improvising when he couldn’t crack a part. The early years saw him playing in local Florida bands, but in 1978 he joined up with brother Jon to form Avatar, the direct precursor to the Olivas’ most famous band, Savatage.
Avatar spent the early 80s playing Clearwater and Tampa area clubs, performing a mixture of hard rock covers and occasional originals. Their only output from this time period are an EP and cuts on some compilation tapes, notably The YNF Pirate Tape by the 95YNF radio station. Both are out of print, but mp3 clips and full tracks are available on Savatage’s website. They are raw versions of future Savatage releases.
In 1983 Avatar had to change its name due to copyright issues (Another band owned the name). Combining “savage” with “avatar,” resulted in Savatage, the name that stuck. Criss was the sole guitarist during this and through much of his tenure with the band, and so composed all the guitar parts to Sirens and The Dungeons are Calling, Savatage’s first and second albums. Both are notable for having fast, speed metal-esque tempos and being full of bluster, along with Jon Oliva’s then-powerful screech – a stark contrast to latter day albums Wake of Magellan and Dead Winter Dead.
Criss’ playing from this period is full of the hallmarks of early 80s shred. His style reflects a clear Eddie Van Halen influence, what with an application of the pentatonic scale, pinch harmonics, rapid trilling and whammy divebombs. Oliva came out around the same time as many of the top names of the 80s metal movement, such as Randy Rhoades, Yngwie Malmsteen and George Lynch. He stood out from the pack by having a tone with a lot of top-end presence and thick midrange. His playing was also much more aggressive compared to his peers in that period. His biggest weakness, and this was true of the band at this phase, was a lack of direction and ideas. “Holocaust,” track 3 off Sirens, is a ripping track that shows a glimpse of what Savatage would be later on:
Savatage pressed forward, got signed to major label Atlantic Records and put out their third disc, Power of the Night, in 1985. The band’s still got one foot in speed metal and the other in glam at this point, matching dark lyrics like “Necrophilia,” with lusty rockers like, “Hard for Love.” Criss’ writing and soloing reflects much the same dichotomy, and retains the same aggressive nature. “Unusual” shows the mixture well with the slower, Quiet Riot-like chord bashing and chugging complimenting the dark undertones the band showed on its two earlier albums:
Savatage’s “What were they thinking?!” moment came in 1987. Struggling to find an audience with the MTV generation and make headway amongst the dozens of bands pouring out of LA by that point, the group made the decision to go fully commercial with Fight for the Rock. It features a flaccid parental advisory warning and the band in full cheese-rock mode, raising the American flag on the cover. Being one of the group’s main auteurs, blame for this partially falls at Criss’ feet. His playing, like the songs, are not inspired, very cliche’ and aimed straight at typical teenage ears, who roundly ignored it. Fight for the Rock was a step back for the band and for the rest of their existence pretended it didn’t exist. “Crying for Love” for example finds Savatage downright aping Dokken:
After taking a thrashing from both fans and critics, Savatage and Criss Oliva needed to come up with the goods in a big way. By 1987 they had been floundering, producing glimmers of promise on their first 3 records, and then blowing it to hell with their 4th. Deliver they did with Hall of the Mountain King. This is the record that advanced Savatage away from their half-speed metal/half-heavy metal wavering, and buried Fight for the Rock in the dust. Mountain King begins the band’s most commercially successful period and creative apex with both Oliva bros at the helm. It’s hard to find a dud on the album, for it starts out maniacally with “24 Hours Ago,” rolls right into “Beyond the Doors of the Dark,” has the catchy “Strange Wings,” and the piece de resistance, the album’s title track:
Hall of the Mountain King shows Criss’ playing reaching a new level at last. He branched out, melding with the neoclassical movement via the “Prelude to Madness” instrumental, pushing his technique forward with the title track’s solo, and putting the capstone on the band’s speed metal flirtations with “White Witch.” His predilection for pentatonic theatrics is still there, but his whammy bar work outs get downright primal at times. His tone sounds great on this record too, showing the producer (Paul O’Neill) knew how to capture his sound in the studio. This also marked the band’s first work with O’Neill, who went on to be a de facto member in the future, resulting in fruitful collaborations with the Oliva bros.
The follow up to Mountain King was the impressive and transitional Gutter Ballet. Here the band’s and Criss’ playing reached for greater, emotional and more theatrical heights. For singer and brother Jon Oliva, this was a new level for songwriting and vocal performances. For guitarist Criss, it was the full realization of his style. The inventive, dexterous riffs that became a cornerstone of Savatage’s sound later on are firmly represented on Gutter Ballet for the first time. Criss’ solos are counterpoint to Jon’s howling, maddening vocals at the high points and reflect the moodiness of the low. On “When the Crowds Are Gone,” Criss takes a solo that evokes the drama of a Shakespearean tragedy. It is utterly eloquent in communicating its sadness, in only a way that fits within the burgeoning power metal and symphonic metal genres. Over the top? Sure, but tasteful and appropriate for the song all at the same time:
Sidenote – while Savatage had realized itself with Mountain King and was daring to take a leap with Gutter Ballet, it almost never happened, for in 1989 Oliva was offered the lead guitar gig in Megadeth. He turned it down, luckily for Savatage fans.
Another thing that should be noted is around Mountain King is when Criss started to work with a second guitarist, albeit on a touring-only basis. Chris Cafferey made his first of repeated associations with the Savatage camp, supporting them on tour in 1987-88, and appearing on Gutter Ballet as a fully-credited member. Cafferey was very much a sideman and subordinate to Criss at that time, but his later association with the group would feature him in a more upfront fashion.
If Mountain King brought the band back from the edge, and Gutter Ballet showed what they were capable of, the true homerun hit was Streets: A Rock Opera. This was Jon Oliva and Paul O’Neill’s theatrical vision for Savatage fully realized, and for a time Jon’s last appearance as lead vocalist. He wrung just about everything out of himself for this album, and Criss’ playing again provides the counterpart. More acoustic guitar usage shows up on this disc, as do synthesizers. This is the full-fledged transformation from the early Savatage to the power/symphonic metal Savatage, along with their first, true concept album – one of several they’d do later. Stand out tracks from Streets include “Jesus Saves,” “Tonight He Grins Again,” and “Heal My Soul:”
After Streets a major sea change took place in Savatage: Jon Oliva stepped down as vocalist and keyboardist, focused instead on side projects and a musical which has never been produced. Rumors abounded in this period that Jon had lost his voice, which wasn’t true. Criss soldiered on with new vocalist Zachary Stevens and longtime rhythm section Johnny Lee Middleton (bass) and Steve “Dr. Killdrums” Wacholz (drums). This lineup’s first release together was Edge of Thorns, which ratcheted down the theatrics and moved into moodier territory. Signs of maturity from Criss and co. are present here, for while the album isn’t limp or mundane, it is far mellower than its predecessor. O’Neill and Jon Oliva lurk in the background, handling songwriting and production duties. Criss playing on this album reflects emotional rather than technical growth, for he plays with more feeling than in the past and takes the path of least resistance on some tracks. Stevens’ markedly different voice no doubt contributes to the changed mood, as do the members’ passage through the 80s and entry into a different rock era.
Whatever could have come next will never be known, for tragically on October 17, 1993, at approximately 3:30 am, a driver crossed the median and struck Criss’ car head on, killing him and gravely injuring his wife, Dawn. Savatage wasn’t the same since; devastated, Jon Oliva remained in the band’s background for a few more years, with Handful of Rain and Dead Winter Dead only listing him as producer, contributing musician and songwriter. Post-Criss Savatage began a slow evolution into what is now Trans Siberian Orchestra, a band that is more an Oliva/O’Neill driven touring production that happens to feature rock musicians. If anything Criss was Savatage’s last tether to its past as a song-driven heavy metal band. Dead, Wake of Magellan (which saw Jon return to vocal duties and full time membership) and Poets and Madmen were each concept albums, loaded with classical and Broadway motifs, and took a backseat to the growing TSO enterprise. Savatage saw Chris Cafferey return and play a more upfront role, providing a foil to shredders-for-hire like Al Pitrelli and Jack Frost, and Testament axeman Alex Skolnick.
It’s never been the same though, not for Savatage, not for Jon Oliva, and not the end result in Trans Siberian Orchestra. Sure Pitrelli, Frost, Skolnick and others had more polish, more refined technique and great tone, but as songwriters they took a backseat to the Jon Oliva/Paul O’Neill tandem, and possessed none of Criss Oliva’s grit and aggression. What Criss had over all of the ‘Tage/TSO players was fire to his playing. Indeed the single greatest criticism to shredders like these is their playing is too perfect. Criss may have loaded up with fast runs and frenetic notes, but the way they were applied was with true feel and often taste. He seemed to know when to lay back, when to snarl and to make it all work and drive home the song’s message.
This absence is certainly not forgotten though: to this day, he is honored at TSO concerts and with Jon Oliva’s Pain, Jon’s post-Savatage hard rock outfit. These can be seen in performance of classic Savatage tunes, and display of the ubiquitous, white Charvel guitar with a red rose wrapped around it. Final Bell/Ghost in the Ruins, a live posthumous disc, features Criss’ incendiary playing, along with compilations From the Gutter to the Stage and the Best and the Rest. Occasionally TSO guitarists fashion their custom instruments in reference to Criss, with a rose graphic or through using Jackson Soloist guitars. In the broader scheme Criss’ work on those Savatage records laid the foundation for progressive, symphonic and power metal, subgenres that took shape in the late 80s-early 90s, and now feature long lists of bands, almost all of whom have taken something from a Savatage album with Criss on it.
A long time ago, one guy from Sioux City, IA managed to come out of the prairie and find himself in some of rock’s most well known bands. He was typical for that day; a long haired, wild-eyed, Stratocaster-slinging guitarist with crazy clothes and earrings. What set this man apart was his powerful command of that guitar, and the blazing, prolific career he had which suddenly crashed into the ground with self-inflicted tragedy. This fellow was Tommy Bolin.
Bolin’s career began in the late 60s when he was still a teenager, after moving to Boulder, CO. He hooked up with a group called Zephyr, which was fronted by Candy Givens, a powerful singer that evoked equal parts Grace Slick and Janis Joplin. Like a lot of rock bands back then, Zephyr dipped into blues, soul, jazz and rock with free-form abandon. Bolin’s guitar work swam through the mix with unabashed flair, providing the counterpoint to Givens’ power-packed pipes. Here’s an example of Zephyr getting down in a great example of their style. “Hard Charging Woman” starts in a slow way reminiscent of “Dazed & Confused,” before jumping into a funky raucous:
Tommy Bolin’s days with Zephyr were short-lived, for by 1972 he branched out into jazz fusion with a group called Energy, which never put forth an official release, and guested on Billy Cobham‘s Spectrum album. By this point Bolin had already demonstrated considerable flash and ability, and applied it to the blues, jazz and fusion idioms with remarkable ability. His work with Cobham is a perfect example of the fusion coming out at that time, as it was both wild and funky, and unpredictable:
Never one to hang around long, Bolin soon moved on, and by 1973 he was in the James Gang, replacing the very notable Joe Walsh. With Walsh the group scored a hit with “Funk 49,” still a classic rock radio staple. Bolin did two albums with the Gang, 73′s “Bang” and 74′s “Miami.” He easily conquered the breadth of Walsh’s work with the band and put his on stamp on their sound as well. This is him doing one of James Gang’s well known songs, “Seems to Me:”
Like Zephyr before and the short stint with Cobham’s band, Bolin was once more restless and quickly moved on. 1975 was filled with numerous sessions with groups like Good Rats, Moxy, Mouzon and his first solo album, “Teaser.” As a solo artist Bolin used his talent and reputation to recruit a who’s-who of session talent, among them Jan Hammer, Phil Collins and Glen Hughes, and the work on this record was a kitchen sink approach; styles dashed amongst rock, fusion, funk and jazz. “Teaser” works as both a pastiche of Bolin’s wanderlusting and prolific career and his versatile command of multiple musical genres. The title track off the album shows good production values, strong slide work and Bolin’s own vocals. “Teaser” has been covered by other artists as well, like Motley Crue for example. The original version contains funk elements and that crazy, analog 70s vibe which makes it quite endearing.
That same year, just as “Teaser” was set to come out and possibly launch Bolin as a respected solo artist, Deep Purple rang him up. Ritchie Blackmore had just left after disapproving of the direction that band had been moving in, a style which suited Bolin perfectly. Bolin’s sole effort with Deep Purple was “Come Taste the Band,” an effort which combined some of the moody, psychedelic tones of the earlier Deep Purple with the Motown and British blues sounds brought to it by bassist/vocalist Glen Hughes and vocalist David Coverdale. “Come Taste the Band” overshadowed “Teaser,” and for its day was controversial with Deep Purple fans. The band suffered some backlash for losing Blackmore, and Bolin took a lot of unfair heat for being the new guy. Deep Purple was also near its end and by 1976 dissolved. Bolin was undaunted and continued on with his solo career. He managed to tour with the band across the world though, and this live clip shows Deep Purple using its members’ talents supremely well:
After Deep Purple’s dissolution, Bolin gathered another solo band and started work on his next album. “Private Eyes,” released in 1976, would be his last. A tour followed that same year, which saw him share the stage with guitar greats Peter Frampton and Jeff Beck. On his last concert, and last day of life, December 3rd, 1976, Bolin joined Beck on stage. The two even shared a photo-op later. The very next day though Bolin was found dead due to a drug overdose. Like that, it was over. A man who had rocketed through so many genres, bands and tours in about 10 years was gone by age 25. We’re now only left to wonder what would’ve become of Bolin had he lived. With such a diverse palate, how would’ve the rise of punk and new wave treated him? Would Bolin have adopted hard rock and synthesizers to keep up in the 1980s? Maybe he would have retreated to the classic rock/blues touring circuit in the 90s? Or like Jeff Beck, perhaps the guitarist closest to Bolin in terms of versatility, maybe Bolin would have gone into directions nobody could have predicted? It’s all speculation now, for what remains are the albums Bolin did record before leaving this mortal coil.
Compilations, bootlegs and post-humous releases abound of Bolin’s work, notably “Whips and Roses,” a great chronicle of how wide his reach was. Let’s leave this piece with the last song Bolin ever played live, “Post Toastee:”
