Clarence White - Assembled, Assorted Works

Maybe you've heard of Clarence White; maybe you haven't - but I guarantee you have heard what he did. And you've heard his influence for the past 40 years. And I also guarantee you that all those guitar gods that have dominated music for the past 30 years owe more to him than a whole host of the usual suspects, whether they know it (and the good ones know it) or not.

He laid out all the tricks: nut pulls, hammer ons and pull-offs, flatpicking, rolling fingers. He changed the sound of music and created, with a little help, an entirely new genre - country rock. He was fluent in any form - he could rock harder than many, twang better than anyone, swing in his sleep, and flatpick like no one before or since. Not that it's any measure of artistry, but Clarence White could also play amazingly - dazzlingly - fast. He choose notes that surprised, phrases that broke conventions, hollowed out patterns and filled them with space before bubbling up from below to leave the listener and his fellow musicians in awe. He has been called the guitar's Charlie Parker and others have noted that even in his early days the things he did probably drove guitar-playing audience members to sell their axes the next morning out of depression. If there's a pantheon of guitar gods, it's not hard to imagine him as Zeus.

Though he did not "invent" it, the B-bender or string-bender (not the wammy bar) was his alone. He wanted his telecaster to sound like a pedal steel. He turned to band-mate Gene Parsons, who was also a machinist, and asked him to make something that would allow that. Parsons created the B-bender, a tight, spring-loaded device routed through the guitar body that attached to the neck-side post for the guitar strap. When playing, the guitarist pushes the neck away from his body which in turn pulls that post and bends the B string. It's a magical effect that is so much a part of our musical psyche now that we take it for granted.

He came from a bluegrass background that began at age ten with his brothers in the Burbank-based Country Boys (often appearing on the Andy Griffith show). He learned his chops with them (though his greatest influence was Django Reinhardt) and they eventually became what many claim was the greatest bluegrass band ever, The Kentucky Colonels. Their popularity and gigs dried up with the British invasion however, and that's when Clarence bought his first electric guitar - a telecaster. He did session work for a couple of years recording with the Monkees, Ricky Nelson, and Gary Paxton, among many. He also hooked up with an emerging Bakersfield twang scene. That's when he began to shine.

The rules and conventions began to take a beating and genre walls began to tumble from his sheer insistence. He experimented with technique, sound, tone. He got away with it because he was just so good.

When the Byrds came a calling they were still a psychedelic-folk band. His session work for them became full time membership. He changed them. He gave them real twang - made them take their tongues out of their cheeks. He started something.

Then there's Gram Parsons, and Sweetheart of the Rodeo, and The Flying Burrito Brothers, and the Bluegrass "supergroup" Muleskinner (with David Grisman and Peter Rowan), and Jackson Browne and Joe Cocker, and Linda Ronstadt, and the list goes on and on. The session work and touring gave him little time for anything except playing. But that was all to him.

Early on the morning of July 15, 1973, while loading up gear from a spur-of-the-moment reunion gig with The Kentucky Colonels, he was hit by a drunk driver and killed. He was 29 - just fucking 29. Gram Parsons sang at the service, but broke down mid-song - a complete wreck. Parsons never recovered from the loss and overdosed three months later.

There is so much to this story - so many fine details. I urge you to find out more. The best place to start is The Adios Lounge, which admirably contains a much longer, much more in-depth, accounting of his life.

Most of these tracks were pulled together by Adios Lounge and offered individually, so they should be thanked immeasurably. They run the gamut from The Kentucky Colonels all the way to the end. They vary in quality. There will be familiar items like the Byrds and the Arlo Guthrie classic, Coming into LA, that achieves it's majesty through White's soaring guitar. There some alternative takes as well. Some of these will be obscure to all but the most intrepid of fans, but all of them bear witness to White's immense talent and artistry. There are missing items - too little bluegrass - but if you search for that you can find it.

When you listen - and if you don't you do yourself a horrible disservice - remember that so much of it has been copied or mainstreamed that the sounds and techniques will seem familiar. In context, however, White went places no one had ever gone. Regardless of tricks or licks, his artistry is unparalleled and is grand magic.

Hear pt1

Hear pt2

Hear pt3

tracklisting:
Sorry but I'm not listing all of em. There are 63 or 64 and they're labeled - that'll have to do.

If you want a taste - here's two different songs from The Byrds. White devastates on both.

Byrds - Playboy after Dark - You ain't going nowhere / This Wheel's on fire


And from a BBC doc about The Byrds, bassist John York describes the fans who came to the shows just to watch Clarence. Geeky guitar boys.



a couple of quick notes about awe and reverence:

Virtuoso flatpicker, Tony Rice, owns Clarence's original D-28 - he cherishes it.

Master guitarist, Marty Stuart, owns Clarence's Telecaster - he too, cherishes it.

Ok, one more addendum.
I've put together 3 songs that demonstrate White's versatility and talent. The first is The Byrds live at Fillmore West doing King Apathy (a song that could be a template for half of Uncle Tupelo's act) - Clarence is frightening. The second is The Kentucky Colonels doing Fire On The Mountain in less than a minute - Clarence is too fast for words. The last is the overlooked Gosdin Brothers doing Tell Me on which Clarence was a very young hired gun. It's White's masterpiece - listen as he takes a simple but tasty moon, spoon, june song and explodes it, especially the last 50 seconds, with (to use an old bebop term) bomb after bomb after bomb.