This cut off Jeff Beck’s second solo effort was produced by the magisterial George Martin, the Beatle’s north star. The song was gifted to Jeff by Stevie Wonder, who did so, (according to JB), as an apology for having released the barn-burner Superstition first, after promising to let Jeff have it. He needn’t have worried - the plangent tone and human voicing Jeff discovered while creating this track was akin to a 49er striking the motherlode. Fittingly, he dedicated the recording to Roy Buchanan - another guitar master of a similar tonal inclination.
It’s uncanny - watching Beck’s delicate hands on the Live at Ronnie Scott’s video: the fluidity that this whammy bar wizard achieves creating the illusion of a cooing human voice, pregnant with longing and passion, takes my breath away. As the bare fingers of his right hand caress the spring loaded whammy bar, sensuously modulating the pitch and vibrato, he makes love to his instrument. It’s pure romance.
The recent demise of this musical icon came as a shock because he always seemed like Peter Pan, eternally youthful, with his toned, sleeveless arms and bowl haircut - a shredding bad boy. Not just another British Invasion survivor from decades past, but an ever fresh and present musical force. Well, Thanatos, you may have taken his life, but, Death be not proud - his soul will live forever.
This cut off Jeff Beck’s second solo effort was produced by the magisterial George Martin, the Beatle’s north star. The song was gifted to Jeff by Stevie Wonder, who did so, (according to JB), as an apology for having released the barn-burner Superstition first, after promising to let Jeff have it. He needn’t have worried - the plangent tone and human voicing Jeff discovered while creating this track was akin to a 49er striking the motherlode. Fittingly, he dedicated the recording to Roy Buchanan - another guitar master of a similar tonal inclination.
It’s uncanny - watching Beck’s delicate hands on the Live at Ronnie Scott’s video: the fluidity that this whammy bar wizard achieves creating the illusion of a cooing human voice, pregnant with longing and passion, takes my breath away. As the bare fingers of his right hand caress the spring loaded whammy bar, sensuously modulating the pitch and vibrato, he makes love to his instrument. It’s pure romance.
The recent demise of this musical icon came as a shock because he always seemed like Peter Pan, eternally youthful, with his toned, sleeveless arms and bowl haircut - a shredding bad boy. Not just another British Invasion survivor from decades past, but an ever fresh and present musical force. Well, Thanatos, you may have taken his life, but, Death be not proud - his soul will live forever.