Gary Lucas has been called the “thinking man’s guitar hero” – but based on his work with Captain Beefheart, Jeff Buckley and Chris Cornell, perhaps he should be known as “the tortured artist’s guitar player” instead.
“Well, I’ve been tortured aplenty,” he laughs, telling Guitar World, “It’s a wonder I’m still here. But there’s no more joyful experience than getting onstage and turning a crowd of people on. I take them on trips; it’s a beautiful exchange of energy. I think there’s something about that that causes a resonance; it can produce shivers.”
Lucas admits that breaking the US market as a solo artist has been harder than in Europe’s; but that hasn’t stopping him trying. He plays two West Coast shows later this month.
Asked what audiences can expect, Lucas says: “A lot of is based on the feedback I get while playing. I can read the room and tell if people are getting bored. I like to switch things up very fast and watch people smile.
“I like the idea of taking a guitar and using it as a magic wand. My goal is to sort of astonish people – have them say, ‘Boy… I’ve never heard a guitar played like that before!’”
You’ve got two shows coming up. What’s the story there?
“One show is in Seattle, where I’ve never played, at a place called The Triple Door, on March 25. And on March 27, I’m in Mill Valley at the Sweetwater Music Hall. That place is owned and operated by Bob Weir.”
You’ve sat in with Bob before, right?
“I had the pleasure of sitting in with him at the Atlantic Jazz Festival in New York. I had my National steel guitar, this 1920s one, which he thought would be good to play with him. I got on stage and everybody was wearing in-ear monitors – there were no stage monitors. So I’m sitting there, and it was just dead strings being strummed. But I’m a pretty good improviser, so I can normally wing it.”
You’ve been called the “thinking man’s guitar hero.” What are your thoughts on that?
“I try to bring my sensibility. I’m an avid reader and an eclectic listener, and I have a good memory. I don’t play down; I like to take people on trips. I want to elevate people and turn them onto obscure corners of the musical genius that inspired me.”
Have you always been passionate about music and guitar?
“When I was a little boy, the first thing that really got my attention was an R&B song by Thurston Harris called Little Bitty Pretty One. It’s a really rollicking number, and it’s beautiful. And Duane Eddy danced with a guitar, man. I was like, ‘I want to play guitar.’”
How much of your sensibility was cultivated with Captain Beefheart?
“He was like a university on guitar. His whole approach was unique. He once said, ‘The guitar is merely a standup piano.’ He insisted that I string my ’64 Stratocaster with the heaviest gauge strings. They were like piano strings, man. They were painful for my fingers!
I trusted Jeff totally. Whatever I gave him, I knew he was gonna come back with some perfect part
“He stretched me technically. There were these arrangement exercises that were like symphonic pieces, and done as solo guitar arrangements using all my fingers – you know, playing conceptually. I had to teach myself these techniques in order to play Beefheart’s music.”
What were those techniques?
“For instance, fingerpicking. For years, I was a flat-pick guy who could emulate the sound of fingerpicking with rapid strokes. But that wasn’t fingerpicking, and he insisted on it. He was also trying to get me to use metal fingerpicks and a thumbpick.
“I found that too cumbersome. I met him in the middle, discarded the metal fingerpicks, and was able to use the same effects using my bare flesh, including my thumb and all the pads of my fingers.”
That must have required a serious build-up of your calluses.
“I played it methodically enough; not as much as to get blood blisters, but enough to toughen up the pads at the end of the fingers. I realized, ‘OK, I can do an alternating bassline with my thumb, get a really good driving rhythm going, and make changes and accents falling under the notes.’”
What was your most challenging composition with Beefheart?
“One of the things he had me arrange on guitar was a piece called Evening Bell. He wrote it on piano, sent me a cassette and said, ‘Learn that on guitar.’ He didn’t write music – that was not in his skillset.
“I go, ‘Well you’re using all 10 of your fingers on the piano, and there’s only six strings on a guitar. How am I supposed to do that?’ He goes, ‘You better find another four strings, man!’ Meaning, ‘Do the best you can,’ I guess.”
Beefheart was notorious for being ill-tempered with his band. How did that impact you as a player?
“I met Johnny Depp and he asked, ‘How did you get that sound?’ I said, ‘Beefheart used to holler at us a lot right before recording. He liked it when we were on the edge and nervous.’ You can hear that a little bit in our playing.
“He had an idea he called ‘the exploding note theory’ – he said, ‘Just play every note as if it has no relation to the previous or subsequent note.’ He saw them as like bombs bursting, or something like fireworks. The trick was not to bore people and always switch it up.”
That boot camp must have served you well with Jeff Buckley. How did you start working with him?
I offered Chris some material but he didn’t pursue it. I know one of the reasons Audioslave broke up was an issue over who wrote what
“I’ve not talked about this a lot, but I can reveal it now. Rise Up to Be and And You Will – which became Grace and Mojo Pin – came about when I’d just gotten home from a tour in Holland. I’d started working with Jeff, but I had a deal with Columbia Records to make a record with a female singer.
“It was a version of Gods and Monsters, based on my songwriting and guitar, but it was like a seven-piece band. I got into this contract; and about a year into it, we were struggling over stupid things and we hadn’t gone into the studio. So I got home from that tour, and the A&R guy called and said, ‘We’ve decided to drop your project.’
“I was flabbergasted – I was like, ‘How can you do that? We have a written contract.’ He said, ‘You can’t afford to sue us. But maybe we can have lunch one day.’ Click; he hung up. My wife was saying, ‘What are you gonna do? We don’t have health insurance; you left your day job.’ I said, ‘I know I have talent. I’ve got to stick to my guns.’
“I had Jeff Buckley waiting in the wings. We’d already written a song together. I rang him up in LA and he said, ‘I’ll be your singer.’ He was excited. Next day, I sat down and said, ‘I’ve got to come up with some music.’ It flowed out of me – and I finally felt comfortable. I got it down, put it on a cassette, and sent it to Jeff snail mail.”
How did Jeff like what you sent him?
“He called me up and said, ‘They’re beautiful, man. I’ve got some ideas. I’m coming to New York in a couple of weeks,’ which he did. I have a tape in my archive where I’m sitting on the couch with a guitar, and Jeff is standing over me, going, ‘OK, start. You know this one called Rise Up to Be? Now it’s called Grace.’
“He pulled out a notebook with lyrics and doodles, like a poet’s notebook. He started singing, and that was Grace. The first run-through, it was pretty intact. His only modification was when he said, ‘Okay, double this part,’ or ‘Play this section twice – I feel I’ve got more lyrics here.’ Otherwise, the beauty of working with him was that he left things alone.”
You and Jeff had remarkable chemistry. Has it ever been like that with someone else?
“He’s the best collaborator I ever had. I trusted him totally. Whatever I gave this guy, I knew he was gonna come back with some perfect, complementary part. When we went to record he had it all worked out. I was just sitting there like, ‘Oh, my God,’ listening to him. I was always in a group with a God-like lead singer – that’s the template!”
Speaking of God-like lead singers, what was it like working with Chris Cornell?
“He was phenomenal, man. He was a real gentleman. Out of the blue, I got a call from Steve Lillywhite, who said, ‘I’m producing Chris’s new album and he’d really like you to play on it.’
Beefheart is the ultimate underdog. The odds of him ever getting into Hall of Fame are not good
“The deal was I’d do one studio day with him in LA. I flew out there, went in on a Monday morning, and he threw a lot of music at me! At the end of the day he said, ‘Can you be here all week? I’m really digging your playing.’
“So I stayed until the end of the week. I think, on that Carry On album, I’m on at least eight tracks. That included a shred solo I did on his cover of Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean. That’s controversial among the fans, but Chris loved it. He was going for it, you know?”
Did he give you a lot of freedom?
“I gave him some little lines and bits to support the songs. I offered him some material on instrumentals, like I had with Jeff, but he didn’t really pursue it. I know one of the reasons Audioslave broke up was an issue over who wrote what.
“I think it’s in the nature to try and keep all the writing and publishing as much as possible. That’s fine; I’m very proud of having worked on it. And I wish he was still here. I couldn’t believe he passed away. I didn’t see that coming.”
You’ve said that your goal is to “throw light on the dark corners of culture that have been unfairly neglected”.
“In my life, I’ve been a connector. It’s important to spread the word, as an artist, of things that give me joy and that people might have overlooked. I’m for the underdogs. Beefheart, in a way, is the ultimate underdog. The odds of him ever getting into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame are not good, despite his influence.
“It’s important to talk these people up. I try to give props to people who were unfairly overlooked. It’s just a good thing to do. If people support fellow human beings instead of being envious, which is a bad look, the world will be in better shape.”
- Lucas plays The Triple Door, Seattle, WA on Mar 25 and Sweetwater Music Hall, Mill Valley, CA on Mar 27. See GaryLucas.com for tickets.
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