Not snobbish or elitist, Jeff Beck could dip into the sea of electronica, then funk, heavy metal, fusion, or classical.
I read the news today, oh boy . . .
The death of guitarist Jeff Beck creates a musical hole too big to put your arms and head around. Beck, one of the finest and most influential guitarists of all time, has gone. He died last week of bacterial meningitis. He was 78.
A life of genius is always going to be cut short when death comes. Thus it is with Beck. His mastery of his instrument, the electric guitar, was genius. No one played liked him. He created a universe of sound, unique unto him. Tone, tempo, attack, release, speed, fluency, and, above all, melody. As he told this writer several years ago: ‘‘Melody reigns supreme.’’ Even with the amp turned to 11.
As another guitar legend, and one-time co-member of the Yardbirds, Jimmy Page, tweeted: “The six stringed Warrior is no longer here for us to admire the spell he could weave around our mortal emotions. Jeff could channel music from the ethereal. His technique unique. His imaginations apparently limitless. Jeff, I will miss you along with your millions of fans.”
Beck played without frontier or fear. He was not snobbish or elitist, one minute he could be dipping into the sea of electronica, then funk, heavy metal, fusion, or classical. It was all one to him. It was all music. That he was able to play each and every genre effortlessly and sublimely was testament to his gift, and art.
A measure of his respect in the industry, quite apart from the numerous awards and inductions (twice) into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, has been the tributes given by fellow musicians. They have been overflowing with gratitude, awe and love.
Such as Mick Jagger: ‘‘We have lost a wonderful man and one of the greatest guitar players in the world.’’
Gene Simmons: ‘‘No one played guitar like Jeff. Please get a hold of the first two Jeff Beck Group albums and behold greatness. RIP.”
Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour: “I am devastated to hear the news of the death of my friend and hero Jeff Beck, whose music has thrilled and inspired me and countless others for so many years. He will be forever in our hearts.”
Joe Perry, Aerosmith (from 2010): “He is head, hands and feet above all the rest of us, with the kind of talent that appears only once every generation or two.”
Toni Iommi, Black Sabbath: ‘‘Jeff was such a nice person and an outstanding iconic, genius guitar player — there will never be another Jeff Beck.”
These are but a few, the reach of expression is far and wide, from Brian Wilson to Donny Osmond (yes Donny Osmond), to Joe Satriani, to guitar manufacturers and string companies.
But there are words and then there are glances. Beck was a regular at the Crossroads Festivals, organised by Eric Clapton. They are basically a massive guitar jamboree. At one of the concerts, there is a shot of Clapton off to one side of the stage while Beck does something, typically, naturally, preposterous for mere mortals on the guitar. Clapton just offers a little smile and shakes his head as if to say, he’s on another planet to us.
And Clapton once was God.
Beck, Clapton and Page all came out of what can be called the southern England Delta/Chicago blues country, a sonic landscape that emerged in the sixties. The Yardbirds was the common entity, Beck replacing Clapton on Page’s recommendation. It was during Beck’s short time they had hits such as “Shape of Things”, and a short screen grab in the film “Blow Up”. The band didn’t last and Beck went his own way.
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It’s not true to say that Beck was constantly reinventing himself. He was too fluid in range and imagination to stay one place long enough to need reinvention.
He had solo success straight after the Yardbirds. Indeed, he was Led Zeppelin-ish before Page was Led Zeppelin. He had a power trio as they were known back then called Beck, Bogart and Appice, which covered “Superstition”, the song that Beck had a role in composing with Stevie Wonder while he was working with Wonder on his “Talking Book” album.
It was in the 1970s, though, that the wider music world took notice. Beck went fusion. The album “Blow by Blow”, produced by fifth Beatle George Martin, blew any preconceptions of what Beck was as a player out the window. His cover of Wonder’s “Cause We’ve Ended as Lovers” is sublime.
He put out a succession of albums that still stand the test of time such as “There and Back” and “Wired”. He toured with keyboard master fusion keyboardist Jan Hammer. He did an album of Gene Vincent covers, the soundtrack to the film “Frankie’s House”, plunged his axe into electronica and techno, and skewered it to his way with the albums “Who Else”, “You Had It Coming” and “Jeff”. He reunited with Rod Stewart for “People Get Ready”.
And there were many live albums, perhaps the most indicative of his career being “Live at Ronnie Scott’s”, where he showcases Charles Mingus’s “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat”, and what became a concert tour de force, a cover of the Beatles “A Day in the Life”.
A few years after that, he released “Emotion and Commotion”. It was a highway of songs that few guitarists could travel on. Effortlessly, Beck went from blues to funk to heavy metal to classics to classical. Who else could combine “Cry Me a River”, “Over the Rainbow”, “Corus Christi Carol”, “I Put a Spell on You” and “Hammerhead”? Oh, and “Nessun Dorma”. Melody reigns supreme. Indeed.
One of the many unique aspects to Beck’s playing was the sheer blending of hands and instrument. He didn’t use a plectrum, hadn’t done for years. It was all fingers and thumb, and a loving embrace with the whammy bar of the Stratocaster, which became like an extra finger. (His hands were once reportedly insured for millions.)
There was no special effects bank of gadgets. The special effects were in his hands.
In a mocking fate of the universe, his last album was a hotch-potch of songs and instrumentals with friend, actor Johnny Depp. No one would disagree it wasn’t his finest hour, but he and Depp reportedly had fun doing it and touring it. It will be in his legacy, a small note in the margins.
Coincidentally, in the days before Beck’s death, I had been listening to his album “Loud Hailer”. He had teamed up with members of a young outfit called Bones UK, featuring singer Rosie Bones. Beck plays out of his skin on it. It is strident, aggressive, jaw-dropping, and, of course, melodic. Listen to “The Revolution Will Be Televised” or “Live in the Dark”.
And now, he is gone. Few musicians have flared across the sky so brightly and for such a length of time as Beck. He opened up the electric guitar to its endless possibilities, though as one admirer pointed out, there won’t be any Beck imitators, because no one could play like him. He was a one-off.
CODA: And here’s my infinitesimal link to Beck. We shared the same day of birth.
