22/02/26: Guitar Geekery. (and no small amount of personal pride.) The guitar on the left belongs to a great personal friend of mine. Context follows…
I began learning to play musical instruments, initially the guitar; at a rather young age. Subsequently, amongst other things I have been a musician or audio engineer on-and-off for over fifty years. (Occasionally for a living) In 1995, after something of a musical hiatus I was being asked to guest-with or join bands again, as the drummer. At this point in time I had not owned a drum kit – my principal instrument of twenty years – for quite a while. But I did still have a rather special guitar with which I had fallen pretty solidly out of love. Now: I believe anyone who has performed music to a reasonable level will understand how torturous it is to even contemplate parting with instruments. I wanted to play but was essentially penniless after a marital separation. So, after a lot of hand-wringing I traded my 1977-ish Gibson Les Paul Custom (in ebony) for a new drum kit, and threw myself back into the chaos of being in bands all over again.
[Aside: At the time it was a valid exchange because it got me into action again. The guitar was most likely worth c. £1200 and the Yamaha drum gear and accessories I chose cost roughly £1000, but at least the drums were brand new and good enough for real work, both live and recording.]
Spin forward a little and I responded to an advert I came across for a rock band seeking a drummer in the area of West London where I was living – Harrow/Uxbridge/Ruislip. I auditioned and landed the gig. The guitarist and I seemed to click rather well and went for beers and a chat. He was a smart, almost painfully shy man – and a monster of a guitarist. It turned-out that I had dimly heard of a previous band he’d been in, but more impossibly he knew of a band I’d been a part of in the distant past. Astonishing.
The rock band played a few gigs but ultimately did not work out, just as the majority of fledgling bands never work out. The guitarist and I remained close, however, and went on to perform together in many diverse musical situations over the next thirty years; all of which were of properly high quality. His shyness improved hugely as time went on, such that when a genuinely excellent and rare opportunity came his way he did not flinch, and he has gone from strength to strength ever since. He performs here in the U.K. essentially full-time these days, tours abroad, and is often asked for comment in the music press on guitar matters.
Recently he was approached, somewhat out of the blue; by Gibson Guitars. They wondered if he might be prepared to loan a guitar to be a part of their small but significant “50 Years of Punk” exhibition. This took place at the Gibson Garage, London – for true guitar nerds such as myself it’s worth pointing-out that the only other Gibson Garage is in Nashville, Tennessee; where the guitars are now made. Originally the factory was in Kalamazoo, Michigan, where manufacturing began in 1894.
In other words, for a player of electric guitars to be associated with the London premises of the iconic Gibson guitar brand would be Something. Of. A. Big. Deal. My friend’s guitar is one I know well – a Gibson Les Paul Deluxe. Here it sits alongside instruments from seminal musicians such as Mick Jones of ‘The Clash’, and Captain Sensible of ‘The Damned’. (nb: the good Captain’s Gibson SG is the guitar on the right.)
We are still excellent friends, hopefully will perform together again in the future, and in fact spent an evening last week talking about guitars and watching noisy bands at a historic old music venue in London; the Hope & Anchor. I had not been there for a gig in several years, having played there myself several times roughly a century ago. It feels like that long, anyway. The old place was still brilliant.
The guitarist friend I describe is Leigh Heggarty. His main gig is providing the Marshall-powered meat for the brilliant and still important English punk-rock band: Ruts DC. (who first formed in 1977.) Gibson Guitars have recognised his work, and he’s not so shy anymore. That’s the personal pride bit, and all of this – his story – is absolutely brilliant both for me and all of Leigh’s other musical mates who have always known he deserved success.