The Reluctant Virtuoso (Guitar World 1981): Difference between revisions
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Allan Holdsworth - cult shaman to contemporary flash guitar idols like Eddie Van Halen, principal (and most interesting) soloist for U K Gong, Bruford, Soft Machine Tony Williams Lifetime (second edition) and Jean-Luc Ponty, and the only player to successfully fuse the 'big guitar" timbre of seventies heavy rock with the melodic continuity and harmonic imagination of jazz - is not amused. He is sitting in his London flat with a bad cold doing yet another interview about his prodigious instrumental technique with an overawed American writer while his newish three-piece band, False Alarm goes absolutely nowhere slowly. | Allan Holdsworth - cult shaman to contemporary flash guitar idols like Eddie Van Halen, principal (and most interesting) soloist for [[U.K.]] [[Gong]], [[Bruford]], [[Soft Machine]] [[Tony Williams]] Lifetime (second edition) and [[Jean-Luc Ponty]], and the only player to successfully fuse the 'big guitar" timbre of seventies heavy rock with the melodic continuity and harmonic imagination of jazz - is not amused. He is sitting in his London flat with a bad cold doing yet another interview about his prodigious instrumental technique with an overawed American writer while his newish three-piece band, [[False Alarm]] goes absolutely nowhere slowly. | ||
The transatlantic telephone conversation is punctuated with temporary pauses for some deep, basso-profundo coughing as Holdsworth relates the grinding frustration of his current situation. "Yeah, it's still called False Alarm, that's the name we're using in the U.K. It's my band but I don't like using my own name. Same band members, Paul Carmichael on bass and Gary Husband on drums. We're looking for management and a record label. It's hard [getting signed] everywhere, but it's really dreadful here. We can't get anybody interested." | The transatlantic telephone conversation is punctuated with temporary pauses for some deep, basso-profundo coughing as Holdsworth relates the grinding frustration of his current situation. "Yeah, it's still called False Alarm, that's the name we're using in the U.K. It's my band but I don't like using my own name. Same band members, [[Paul Carmichael]] on bass and [[Gary Husband]] on drums. We're looking for management and a record label. It's hard [getting signed] everywhere, but it's really dreadful here. We can't get anybody interested." | ||
Food for thought for those who think that instrumental expertise necessarily adds up to big time, big bucks. More precisely, another dreary economic indicator about the slim pickings in the record biz, especially if you're typecast as a "jazz rock" instrumentalist. Virtually a prisoner of his own passionate and distinctive guitar playing, Holdsworth understands the painful irony implicit in this kind of quick take on his music. For example, he says, there's the tape of False Alarm that is making the rounds among a small group of friends and supporters in the U.S. | Food for thought for those who think that instrumental expertise necessarily adds up to big time, big bucks. More precisely, another dreary economic indicator about the slim pickings in the record biz, especially if you're typecast as a "jazz rock" instrumentalist. Virtually a prisoner of his own passionate and distinctive guitar playing, Holdsworth understands the painful irony implicit in this kind of quick take on his music. For example, he says, there's the tape of False Alarm that is making the rounds among a small group of friends and supporters in the U.S. | ||
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"The funny thing about this band and the tape is that we do all songs. It's three pieces and we're going to be adding a singer. It's the usual story with this tape though, demos are demos. It's just bits of longer things. We didn't know what to put on the tape and we really didn't have the time to record it right. We've been doin' quite a few live gigs but we get stuck in a corner because we don't have a record deal which means we can't get the right kind of gigs. Just playing for nothin' man, we can't make a living." | "The funny thing about this band and the tape is that we do all songs. It's three pieces and we're going to be adding a singer. It's the usual story with this tape though, demos are demos. It's just bits of longer things. We didn't know what to put on the tape and we really didn't have the time to record it right. We've been doin' quite a few live gigs but we get stuck in a corner because we don't have a record deal which means we can't get the right kind of gigs. Just playing for nothin' man, we can't make a living." | ||
The tape IS rough. Featuring a murky mix which blunts the edge of the instrumental interplay, the unsettling combo of Allan's tentative vocals and a female vocalist who sounds like a lower key version of Millie Small ("My Boy Lollipop') and fragments of material which don't add up to "songs" in the accepted form, the False Alarm demo can't be considered a major plus at this stage of the game. The painful part is that, even with the bright | The tape IS rough. Featuring a murky mix which blunts the edge of the instrumental interplay, the unsettling combo of Allan's tentative vocals and a female vocalist who sounds like a lower key version of Millie Small ("My Boy Lollipop') and fragments of material which don't add up to "songs" in the accepted form, the False Alarm demo can't be considered a major plus at this stage of the game. The painful part is that, even with the bright shards of instrumental nirvana that bubble up through the mix from time to time, this tape literally shrieks NO COMMERCIAL POTENTIAL. Definitely not the kind of item that will bring record company a&r people running to his door. | ||
Putting this rather dispiriting state of events aside for the moment, we make a desultory stab at the past. Was his first professional band, Tempest (Warner Brothers, now deleted from catalog), an attempt by British drummer Jon Hiseman to recreate his own version of Cream? | Putting this rather dispiriting state of events aside for the moment, we make a desultory stab at the past. Was his first professional band, Tempest (Warner Brothers, now deleted from catalog), an attempt by British drummer [[Jon Hiseman]] to recreate his own version of Cream? | ||
"It was really, that's why I left. He even wanted it to be more of a Cream than it was on the record. I couldn't stand it so I just left. My playing is so bad on that anyway, it's so old. That was a long time ago." | "It was really, that's why I left. He even wanted it to be more of a Cream than it was on the record. I couldn't stand it so I just left. My playing is so bad on that anyway, it's so old. That was a long time ago." | ||
This exchange sets the tone of what is to follow in our conversation and tells us a lot about Holdsworth in general. First off, he literally dislikes, or in some cases detests, everything that he's recorded to date, False Alarm excepted. Not necessarily the overall music per se - in fact, he speaks very fondly of his association with Tony Williams - just his guitar parts. You know, the kind of stuff that has made him a hero to guitarists everywhere and the subject of prolonged scrutiny in magazines like this one. Added to this obsessive self-criticism is what one might call the "Jeff Beck-Disconnect" syndrome. When Holdsworth is in a band and the music isn't happening, he leaves; very often to the total surprise and amazement of his fellow bandmates. All of which makes for lots of bands and an eclectic discography but is a crying shame in the end because, his protestations notwithstanding, some of his playing on albums like Tony Williams' Believe It, Bruford's One Of A Kind, Soft Machine's Bundles and | This exchange sets the tone of what is to follow in our conversation and tells us a lot about Holdsworth in general. First off, he literally dislikes, or in some cases detests, everything that he's recorded to date, False Alarm excepted. Not necessarily the overall music per se - in fact, he speaks very fondly of his association with Tony Williams - just his guitar parts. You know, the kind of stuff that has made him a hero to guitarists everywhere and the subject of prolonged scrutiny in magazines like this one. Added to this obsessive self-criticism is what one might call the "Jeff Beck-Disconnect" syndrome. When Holdsworth is in a band and the music isn't happening, he leaves; very often to the total surprise and amazement of his fellow bandmates. All of which makes for lots of bands and an eclectic discography but is a crying shame in the end because, his protestations notwithstanding, some of his playing on albums like Tony Williams' Believe It, Bruford's One Of A Kind, Soft Machine's Bundles and Ponty's Enigmatic Ocean is absolutely awesome. | ||
Holdsworth has the uncanny ability to create guitar parts characterized by a totally controlled, fat sustain sound with notes that flow in a smooth linear fashion much like those voiced on a saxophone. | Holdsworth has the uncanny ability to create guitar parts characterized by a totally controlled, fat sustain sound with notes that flow in a smooth linear fashion much like those voiced on a saxophone. | ||
