In 1968, Jeff Beck released Truth, a pumped-up blues-rock album featuring Rod Stewart's grainy vocals, Mickey Waller on drums, and a recently “demoted” Ron Wood on bass guitar.

Originally the band's second guitarist, Wood took over the bass duties when original member Dave Ambrose missed a rehearsal.

As it turned out, Wood actually preferred letting Beck take the spotlight on guitar, and for two albums (the band put out Beck-Ola the following year), he laid the foundation for the future of hard-rock bass playing.

When you consider that Truth pre-dates Led Zeppelin's arrival on the scene by a year, Wood's bass playing takes on even greater significance.

In addition to a 1968 Telecaster Bass, he played a Fender Jazz Bass he “obtained” from a store near their rehearsal studio. In a 1975 interview, he told Guitar Player, “I had no money... I couldn't pay for it, so I borrowed it and never took it back. About five years later I paid for it, after they tracked me down.”

As a guitarist coming to the bass, Wood brought a melodic voice to the instrument (later exemplified by his playing on Rod Stewart's Maggie May), along with a rhythmic ferocity born of his well-honed chops, as heard on Let Me Love You, a straight-ahead 12-bar blues penned by blues legend Willie Dixon.

Let Me Love You is played here in F# with a swinging 16th-note rock feel. The blues scale (1-b3-4-#4-5-b7) in that key offers use of the open E and A strings, and Wood’s bassline takes full advantage of the position.

The first of nine choruses features an authoritative instrumental statement from Beck over the alternating I-IV progression for the first four bars of the blues form, and the bassline comes in blasting a prototypical riff with an accent off the ‘e’ of beat four that gets repeated throughout the tune.

At 00:32, Rod Stewart's vocals take the lead, and the alternating I-IV movement gives way to a standard ‘long I’ progression for the rest of the song.

At 00:41 Wood introduces a variation of the Shortening Bread lick (1-6-5), which is a recurring theme throughout. The answer phrase at 00:48 goes up an octave, with the slide up from the last F# causing the following lick (which sounds like Mountain's Mississippi Queen) to get hacked up.

This lick reappears many times, but this one has an unexpected visit from the open E string. It's a quick blip that doesn't cause any real problems, but it's typical of Wood's relaxed approach to the bass. Although he misses the intended destination note (F#), Wood nails it every other time.

Beck starts to solo at 01:33, and Wood calms it down with steady eighth-notes and a descending octave jump that serves as a motif for the next four bars.

The Shortening Bread lick at 02:19 gets transmuted into a blues riff that has a strong resemblance to the pre-chorus guitar riff from the Rolling Stones’ 19th Nervous Breakdown.

The solo ends with a short ‘three-against-four’ rhythm that creates adequate tension for the release into the next chorus where Stewart’s vocals return.

This time, Wood sets up the Mississippi Queen lick with a slide from the low F# and nails it at 02:42. On the IV, he ventures up to the G string and plays in the higher octave, bringing out a melodic vibe with the C# at 02:48.

The energy chills out again and Wood opens chorus seven with a quote from Duck Dunn's riff on Hip Hug-Her by Booker T. & the M.G.’s. It could be a simply happy accident, but most important is to notice how he uses space to work with the dynamic level of the arrangement.

Wood pokes his head up above the fray again by sliding up to the high C# at 03:17, but gets in a little trouble on the way down the lick by letting an open D and A slip through. Not a big problem really, but it was probably not intentional.

Just when it feels as if the energy is petering out a bit, the drums set up a fill at 04:00, and Wood unleashes a furious rapid-fire lick with a bluesy bend that brings back the fire for the final chorus.

Wood keeps up the dynamics, using the mid-register F# to give the line a lift. The song stops abruptly at 04:27, and Wood sets up the end with an unaccompanied descending blues scale that lets you hear the true tone of the bass.

Running it through a Marshall 100-watt stack and playing roundwound strings with a pick, dig the amp breakup on the E string!

Fresh off the announcement of his Marshall endorsement, Jared James Nichols is taking it back to his roots – and by that, we mean the very reason he decided to ditch the pick and play fingerstyle exclusively, in a journey that took him from rural Wisconsin to world stages.

“I remember the first guitar I picked up, I picked it up, and I wanted to play it like a lefty. The first real guitar I got, though, the guy at the store was ‘Dude, flip the guitar, you're holding it wrong,” he says in his new Gibson documentary, The Long Road: A Jared James Nichols Documentary.

“He was like, ‘If you want to be a real guitar player and play really good guitars, you got to play righty. They don't really make great left-handed guitars.’”

Nichols was 15 at the time, and while he quickly got used to his newly purchased right-handed guitar, one thing that felt unnatural to him was playing it with a pick.

“It was fucking me up,” he says matter-of-factly, “and I needed to feel the strings under my fingers. I started to play without a pick, and I distinctly remember people telling me, ‘Man, it's never gonna work, you're never gonna be a great guitar player without a pick.’”

Discovering “guys like Jeff Beck and Mark Knopfler and Derek Trucks,” was the epiphany that he needed to stick to his own unique brand of fingerstyle playing.

“I was like, ‘Well, they do it,’ and then I just started to kind of do it my own way. No one taught me how to do it. I just said I don’t care. I’m just gonna try and see what happens. And what ended up happening was, I started to develop my own sound and technique with it, and I’m so happy now that I did.”

In one of his Guitar World columns, Nichols broke down his one-of-a-kind fingerstyle technique and waxed lyrical about the players who inspired him.

“Fingerpicking felt like the most natural approach. I use my thumb for downstrokes and my first three fingers for upstrokes,” he wrote.

“There was one player in particular who inspired me the most in regard to playing fingerstyle, and that was blues legend Hubert Sumlin, who was known most notably for his work with Howlin’ Wolf.

“When I heard Hubert play, it changed the way I approached the guitar. Then I heard Albert King, Derek Trucks, and Mark Knopfler, all fingerpickers. All these players demonstrated the incredible range of sounds available when fingerpicking.”

A real player’s player, Paul Asbell has worked with Magic Sam, Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Sonny Sitt, the Sun Ra Arkestra and more. He was even Trey Anastasio’s guitar teacher once upon a time.

“I began my gig career sitting in at blues clubs like Peppers’ and Theresa’s, which were near where I was living on the South Side,” he says of his start in Chicago. “I started getting calls to fill in, then I got hired full-time to fill those spots in working bands.”

Asbell straddled the line between blues and jazz in sessions and with his band, Kilimanjaro. “There’s far more chordal vocabulary within the jazz tune repertoire than there is in the blues repertoire,” he says. “It’s easy to spot a player who hasn’t spent years absorbing jazz vocabulary, who then tries to jump into those waters.

“I never wanted to be that guy. I spent years ’shedding jazz lines and learned a lot of jazz standards that I’d never been exposed to growing up.”

But he adds: “I never fell out of love with bluesy melodic expression, and the art of generating and digging into deep grooves. I never lost my love for expressive, soulful singing through the guitar – which is how I view the blues thing.”

Asbell recently published his memoir Stages: Ruminations, Rants, and Reminiscences on a Life in Music. As for what’s next, he says: “I kinda go where the gigs lead me. I’ll go for months playing all jazz and bebop gigs. Then I’ll find myself doing acoustic guitar gigs, playing what I call ‘steel string Americana. Then blues/funk gigs come up, and I’m off with .10s, instead of .12s.”

What inspired you to pick up the guitar?

“My dad was a professional folk singer and songwriter in the ’40s and ’50s. He toured with Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie and other figures of the time. So there was always a guitar being played around the house. By age 11, I wondered if I could get anywhere with it. 65 years later, I’m still working at exactly that!”

Was there a moment when you felt like you’d found your sound?

“The sounds that grabbed me first were by Mississippi John Hurt, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Leadbelly, Blind Willie Johnson and Doc Watson – acoustic sounds. People don’t usually talk about ‘finding your sound’ in the world of acoustic guitar, since the tonal spectrum is not as wide as electric guitar, where pickups, amps, and FX are factored in to ‘finding your sound.’”

When did the electric guitar come into play?

“I started shortly after hearing Hoodoo Man Blues by Junior Wells in 1965. There was a guitarist listed as ‘Friendly Chap.’ It wasn’t long before I found out that was Buddy Guy, and I was hooked. Otis Rush and Earl Hooker came shortly after. I was only 16 when I heard them – they all lived just a few blocks from me.”

What was it like working with Muddy Waters?

“Truth be told, I never was in Mud’s band. I was hired by producer Norman Dayron to play rhythm guitar on the Fathers and Sons record, since my buddy Jeff Carp and I were playing in Sam Lay’s band at the time.

“Sam, of course, was somewhere between son and father – he had mentored me and Jeff in Muddy’s music, but he viewed himself as a son in relation to Muddy and Wolf, who he played with for many years before being hired by Paul Butterfield.”

How about Howlin’ Wolf?

“Actually, I was never in Wolf’s band either. But I was hired to play on the London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions. The producer, Norman Dayron, hoped to run a similar play to Muddy’s Fathers and Sons, this time using British icons like Eric Clapton, Stevie Winwood and Bill Wyman.

“When the tracks made their way back to Chicago, it became clear that some of them needed a bit of work – and some needed a lot of work. In the latter category was I Ain’t Superstitious, which had a nice slinky feel, and terrific vibey Strat part played by Clapton. But there was no excitement building.

“Dayron wanted Jeff Carp and me to build a horn part that became progressively more dynamic as the track developed, which we did. But then we realized that, around two-thirds of the way through, Clapton's guitar part was being overshadowed by the horns. If the horns had already been there, Clapton would have risen to the occasion and played lead fills to answer the dynamic horn lines.

“Since we were in Chicago, and Clapton was in London, I was tapped to fill in the spaces. At around 2:40, my licks are clearly audible until the end of the rideout a minute or so later. Dayron didn’t want to deflect from the British heavyweights, so I was given credit in the ‘special thanks’ section, next to Ahmet Ertegun, Mick Jagger and Robert Stigwood. The music biz can be a bit messy sometimes!”

What was it like working with Magic Sam?

“Sam was a powerhouse rhythm-and-lead-all-at-once player, who I was in awe of, like all my friends. I was quite surprised when I got a call from him to play rhythm guitar on 63rd St. Playing behind him was a masterclass in how to simultaneously be a bandleader, dynamite vocalist and killer entertainer, all rolled into one package.

“He had the voice, the guitar skills, the showmanship, and the good looks to hit big nationally. He’d have done exactly that if he hadn’t passed away at the ripe old age of 32. I’ve always said that Robert Cray, who possesses all those qualities in abundance, stepped into the slot that would have been Sam’s.”

What’s the story behind your work with Lightnin’ Hopkins?

“When I was 13, I discovered Lightnin’ on a 78 record that my dad had, and fell instantly in love. I listened to him constantly, and eventually I could play just like him, and I’d completely assimilated his irregular time, feel and meter!

“Most players are so ingrained to hearing the 12-bar blues structure that they can’t step outside of it to hear the storytelling. Since I’d spent literally hundreds of hours listening to him, it felt totally natural to me.”

On the R&B side, you’ve worked with Donny Hathaway. How did your gear and approach change from playing blues?

“One day in 1969 one of my all-time heroes, Pop Staples, asked me to play on a recording session he’d arranged downtown. We did one rehearsal at his house in South Shore before the session itself. Rufus Reid and Donny Hathaway were there – I’d met them while working at Curtis Mayfield’s Curtom Studio.

“At the time, I was pretty broke; I didn’t have a closetful of guitars and amps. I think I had a Gibson ES-295 and a 1955 Fender Tele. I used a ‘blackface’ Fender Super Reverb for pretty much all my gigs – that was the accepted amp of choice for all my heroes at the time. Guitar straight into the amp; nobody I knew was using pedals back then.”

Once you moved to Vermont, you worked with Big Mama Thornton and Sonny Stitt.

“After I made the move, I was out of the music scene for about 10 months. I got a call from a friend to put a band together to back Big Mama Thornton at Goddard College. It was probably the most hilarious clash of cultures and dress codes that I’ve ever been a part of in my 60-year career!

“Several years later, after I’d been digging deep into the language of jazz standards and bebop harmony, I was asked to back up Sonny Stitt. He was a chopmeister and a total master of the Charlie Parker bebop idiom. I did a lot of ’shedding in the weeks leading up that five-night run. Talk about intimidating!”

Your band, Kilimanjaro, served as Paul Butterfield’s backup band.

“It was a pretty cool touring setup were hired to be The Paul Butterfield Blues Band, but we also got to play an opening set of our jazz-oriented original tunes. At the end of our last tune, I would play a Bo Diddley-style rhythm guitar intro, Paul would hit the stage, and we were off and running as the PBBB that everyone had come to see.

“The whiplash of jazz into blues really caught people off guard – but once they figured out what was happening, they really dug it! I was using my trusty original ’59 Fender Bassman amp and a Strat-style Roland guitar.”

One of your credits is with the Sun Ra Arkestra.

“Sun Ra had passed by the time I did those gigs, and trumpeter Michael Ray was the bandleader. He was looking for musical energy, quirkiness and bold expression from his players, combined with the idea that things might turn into something unplanned at any moment. A good lesson – ya gotta pay attention at all times!”

What led you to finally unpack your life and write your book, Stages: Ruminations, Rants, and Reminiscences on a Life in Music?

“It started with me writing little and not-so-little pieces on Facebook, in order to celebrate my musical heroes’ birthdays. I’d include a personal anecdote or two from my history with the artist. Sometimes those anecdotes wound up suggesting a deeper meaning and resonance than I’d originally set out to write.

“I realized I was doing something with words that I had spent most of my life doing with notes, chords and tones – painting a picture and telling a larger story. It’s become a habit at this point; one that I can’t seem to kick! People started commenting, ‘So, Paul, when’s the book coming out?’”

After going through your memories, what was most apparent about your life and career?

“My former guitar student and now good friend, Trey Anastasio, wrote something for my book that I really liked. I hadn’t consciously realized until he wrote it that my connection to the history of the music – which I always took for granted – would be apparent to someone much younger than myself.

“Writing the 32 essays that wound up being the book has given me a more conscious awareness of how important the history of the music I love has been to me – and, hopefully, to others. I suppose it comes out whenever I play, even if I don’t realize it at the time.”

• Stages: Ruminations, Rants, and Reminiscences on a Life in Music is out now via Phoenix Books.

Jimmy D Lane, the son of Chicago guitarist Jimmy Rogers, enjoyed his early induction into the blues.

“Watching him practice around the house, man, that did a thing for me,” he says. “It struck me very curiously, and it gave me the desire to do it. I would watch him and sneak his guitar out from under the bed to play it when he was gone.

“One of those times, I broke a string! I put it back in there thinking, ‘Oh, there’s six strings – he won’t miss that one.’ He told me later that he realized what happened and knew I was curious about it. He didn’t get on me; we laughed about it. He knew I wanted to learn.”

Despite growing up around Rogers, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and Albert King, Lane was mostly self-taught.

“I never sat down with Pop,” he says. “I would watch him and listen to records to figure it out. I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do. It wasn’t until I got out of the military that certain sounds started to catch my ear.”

Like many others, it wasn’t the blues that spurred him on, but Jimi Hendrix. “I had a set of headphones and a boombox. I remember Hey Joe came on. I’d heard it a million times – but this time, it sounded different. The only way I can describe it is how preachers know their calling.

“I only had $60 in my pocket, but I ran into a pawn shop in Chicago. I had to buy a guitar. I bought a Harmony – which a guy had carted in because he didn’t have any money – went back to the house and practiced until I figured it out.”

By the age of 28 in 1993, he was touring Europe, appearing on late-night TV and performing at the Chicago Blues Festival. Debut record Sir Real arrived in 1995, followed by 1997’s Long Gone. His dad and Hubert Sumlin appeared on 1998’s Legacy, and he performed for President Bill Clinton. Then in 2004 he hooked up with Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Double Trouble for It’s Time.

Since then Lane has kept at it, balancing his father's legacy with perpetual low-key comparisons to Jimi Hendrix. “I got real serious about it,” Lane says. “It came over time. But I’ll tell you: when I knuckled down, I was really able to stretch out.”

Currently on tour, it’s been a long time since his last proper album. “There’s some work that may be coming up in the future,” he says. “I’ll try to put some things together and see what I come up with.”

Even though you're self-taught, with a father like Jimmy Rogers, you must have picked up a few tricks along the way.

“When I first started I would learn a word or a little phrase; then you get a sentence, and maybe put a couple sentences together. When you’re finished you’ve got a paragraph. That’s how I threw it together in my mind for the steps of learning to play.

“All these guys were coming over to have a drink and laugh with the old man. I would be there right in the middle of things, listening to everything that was going on with those guys. My ears were open for it because I was messing with my father’s guitar.”

How did being around blues legends like Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and Albert King impact how you approached the guitar?

“I didn't really know who these guys were. All my knowledge was made with my eyes – they were just friends of the old man. It was, ‘Oh, there’s Mr Junor… there’s Mr Albert.’ Or, ‘There’s Mr Wolf’ – who scared the hell out of me because he was so big and loud!

You saw them as people before you saw them as legendary artists.

“I didn’t look at them that way until I started playing and listening. That’s when I realized, ‘That's what he sounds like – that's what he’s doing.’”

Once you got serious about it, were you able to incorporate some of that into what you were doing?

“I tried my best to take all the things I heard and hone them with what I was doing to create a sound. To this day I don’t know if I created a sound – but I’ve tried.”

Once you got rolling in the ‘90s, you found yourself in the post-Stevie Ray Vaughan blues landscape, which saw artists like Buddy Guy and others find a second life. What was your perspective then?

“Stevie did pretty much the same thing I’ve been talking about. He listened to those guys – especially Albert King and Hubert Sumlin. He took their sound and created a sound much like Hendrix did back.

“There was a big soul revival in the ‘60s, with some great music that was a good step forward for black musicians. But blues had kind of died out in the era of my father; the money kind of died out. But in the ‘80s, with the Texas Flood album, Stevie busted things wide open. A lot of other musicians came on after that, like Robert Cray; and even Eric Clapton came back.”

How did you wind up playing for Bill Clinton?

“There was a convention or some type of speech here in Chicago, and the drummer I had at the time was doing the booking for the band. Somebody he knew said, ‘Hey, do you want to perform for the Clintons?’ They were having a little gathering at City Hall, and we did it.

“When we finished, Bill came up and introduced himself – with the Secret Service all around . He’s a saxophone player, so he was into music. We shook hands and I went to another gig.

“But a couple of weeks later, I got this manilla envelope in the mail from the White House. It was a letter from him thanking me for the performance and the music. That blew me away. It was fun. I could tell he really enjoyed it because he was bobbing his head to the tracks we did!”

Then in 1999 you found yourself in Montreux, Switzerland, with B.B. King.

“I’d played there with the Jimmy Rogers tribute the day before. I was due back in the States, and I got called up in the hotel room – ‘Hey, B.B. wants you to play,’ I had to rebook my return flight.

“It was a very exciting experience, and very humbling to be in the presence of a cat like B.B. King. He had a line of guitar players up there. We got up to jam for the encore, and we all went down the line, and he gave everybody a chance to solo.

“Gary Moore was there too – he played his thing and we jammed there. I was actually sitting next to Gary for that. But all those guys respected my father, which is a very beautiful thing, man.”

How did you end up recording It’s Time with Double Trouble?

“The label I was on at the time, APO, had something to do with that. I was visiting the director and we were thinking about the next project. They contacted Eddie Kramer, who was into it, and we said, ‘Okay, who do we want?’

“We thought about Mitch Mitchell and Billy Cox. Billy was good to go, but Mitch's wife said, ‘No, he’s tired and he’s going to stay in England for a while.’ I said, ‘How about Double Trouble?’ I liked how Chris Layton and Tommy Shannon played together. We contacted them and they were available.”

“Man, it was a fun session. We got all kinds of other bad people; we went on down to Blue Heaven Studios and knocked that record out in about two weeks. I don’t think Tommy is playing anymore; he’s got some issues with his hand. But we had a blast making that record.”

What gear have you leaned on most along the way?

“A Fender Strat is my weapon of choice. I have a Vox amp because I like feeling of the tubes. You know that warm tone you get from tube amps – I like the Vox because the electronics are good and I can get the warmth.

“I’ve got a Boss Blues Driver pedal, and for a couple of songs I use a Jim Dunlop Rotovibe [chorus/vibrato]. I can switch from doing Chicago blues to urban blues and right into other stuff with that very easy setup.”

In 2013, you were inducted into the Chicago Blues Hall of Fame. Given that it’s your hometown, that must have been gratifying.

“If you’re gonna play Chicago blues, you have to go to the few people who created the sound. It’s a very deep sound, rhythmically and emotionally. It’s not just me, man – everybody that’s playing blues guitar should acknowledge that sound.

“Chicago blues is very influential, especially the circular guitar chords and leads that were played. I learned it from my pop. It’s certain rhythms and not getting in the way. If there’s a harmonica player, you don’t step on what he’s doing. If he’s doing solos, you get under him and play chords in certain fashions that feed emotion, timing and sounds.”

• For more information, head to Jimmy D. Lane.

On December 4,2011, the blues world lost one of its leading lights and visionary guitarists when Hubert Sumlin, age 80, passed away in Wayne, New Jersey. Hubert was best known for his incredibly influential guitar work while performing and recording with Howlin’ Wolf. He joined forces with the blues giant in Chicago in 1954, when Sumlin was 23 years old, and continued to work with him until Wolf’s death in 1976. Though Sumlin also played briefly with Muddy Waters, he will always be remembered as the rail-like figure playing bursts of signature rhythm guitar and lead lines next to the hulking Wolf, who, in many ways, was like a father to Hubert.

Sumlin was born in Greenwood, Mississippi, and raised in Hughes, Arkansas. He first met Wolf when, as a boy, he snuck into one of Wolf’s shows. In 1953, Wolf asked Sumlin to replace guitarist Willie Johnson in his band. Sumlin’s signature crystal clear tone and adventurous playing style made its mark onHowlin’ Wolf’s first two Chess albums, 1959’s Moanin’ in the Moonlight and 1962’s Howlin’ Wolf.

Deeply respected by everyone from Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Buddy Guy to Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, Sumlin had an influence on music that is guaranteed for years to come. He was listed at Number 43 on Rolling Stone’s 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time, and Howlin’ Wolf is widely regarded as one of the top five greatest blues albums ever recorded.

The standard musical structure of Chicago electric blues most often features two guitars, one of whom lays down a primary rhythmic, or bass line-like, part, while the other adds melodic fills and signature single-note phrases. Such was the case with Howlin’ Wolf and Sumlin (as well as with other great blues guitar tandems, such as Muddy Waters and Jimmy Rodgers, and John Lee Hooker and Eddie Taylor).

A perfect example of this practice is heard on “Shake for Me,”a standard 12-bar blues in B that features distinctive dual-guitar parts. FIGURE 1a illustrates a line similar to Wolf’s ascending bass line–like figure: over B, the riff starts on the one and then climbs chromati- cally from the major third, D#, to the fifth, F#. This line is then transposed to both the four chord, E, and the five chord, F#. Slight palm muting (P.M.) while playing this riff will add both a percussive quality and rhythmic drive.

Over this figure, Sumlin adds melodic two-note lines, played on the top three strings, making direct reference to each chord as the riffs progress, along the lines of FIGURE 1b. Each of these two-note forms is based on a slight permutation of the major triads in the one-four-five progression. Use a clean tone and sharp attack to emulate Sumlin’s signature sound.

The beauty of the blues is that each and every classic song has a specific, signature guitar riff that sets it apart and gives it its unique character. A great example is Howlin’ Wolf’s “The Red Rooster” (also known as “Little Red Rooster”), a song covered by everyone from the Rolling Stones to Sam Cooke to the Grateful Dead. Wolf supplied the main slide guitar lick in this song, performed in open A tuning (low to high, E A E A C# E). FIGURE 2 offers a similar guitar part, played in open A and featuring single-note melodies in conjunction with small chord voicings and vocal-like slide licks.

Though relatively less common, blues songs played in minor keys hold a special place in the history of the music. Prime examples are Muddy Waters’ “That Same Thing,” Otis Rush’s “So Many Roads” and Howlin’ Wolf’s “Who’s Been Talkin’?” FIGURE 3 represents a part similar to the signature line Sumlin adds to the Wolf classic: based on E minor pentatonic (EGABD), the riff creates a hypnotic quality by remaining virtually the same through all three chords of the one-four-five progression. This guitar lick is intended to fall in the spaces between the vocal phrases, which is a musical technique commonly referred to as “call and response.” Notice the use of index-and-middle-finger two-note barres throughout.

Howlin’ Wolf’s music often sits on a single chord as opposed to working through a standard one-four-five progression. This technique, heard on seminal tracks such as “Smokestack Lightnin’,”“Spoonful,”“Wang Dang Doodle,” “Do the Do” and others, is sometimes referred to as “stomp” blues, building power and tension through hypnotic repetition. FIGURE 4 offers a riff along the lines of that heard on “Smokestack Lightnin’ ”: played fingerstyle, the open low E pedal is struck throughout while a melody is performed on the higher strings. Alter your fingerpicking attack throughout to attain a more expressive performance.

FIGURE 5 illustrates a riff along the lines of what’s heard on “Spoonful”: again using a fingerstyle approach and employing the open low E pedal, a descending melody is outlined on the higher strings, giving way to a repeated two-note line that mimics the vocal figure.

Another Wolf classic is “Forty Four,” origi- nally composed and performed by Roosevelt Sykes and featured on Wolf’s very first release. The song has since been covered by such blues and rock greats as Johnny Winter, Eric Clapton Little Feat, Derek Trucks, Eric Burdon and the Black Crowes. FIGURE 6 offers a line similar to that heard in the Wolf version, performed in the key of F and featuring signature melodic lines on the top two strings along with bass-like walking figures that connect each chord in the progression.

Many a moon ago, in 2012, an all-star cast of musicians assembled at New York City's Apollo Theater to pay tribute to the late blues guitarist Hubert Sumlin, who passed way in December 2011.

Making his first live appearance in nearly five years, Keith Richards joined Eric Clapton on stage just before midnight, running through several Howlin' Wolf classics. You can check out a video of the two performing "Spoonful" (which Clapton covered with Cream in 1966) above.

Proceeds from the show-- which was dubbed the Howlin' For Hubert concert -- benefited the Jazz Foundation.

“They always try to write off the blues. Well, we’ve proven tonight that at least 9,000 people like the blues.”

So says Joe Bonamassa on Joe Bonamassa: Muddy Wolf at Red Rocks, a new live CD, DVD and Blu-ray that will be released March 24.

The shows were recorded last Labor Day weekend, when Bonamassa and his band performed a tribute to blues legends Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf at Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Morrison, Colorado.

Below, you can check out two preview clips from the DVD. Up top we have Bonamassa's version of Muddy Waters' "I Can't Be Satisfied," followed by Howlin' Wolf's "Shake for Me."

Every variation of Joe Bonamassa: Muddy Wolf at Red Rocks is available for pre-order now at shop.jbonamassa.com.

Enjoy!

"I Can't Be Satisfied"

"Shake for Me"

Austin-based blues singer/guitarist Omar Dykes (also known as Omar Kent Dykes) hails from McComb, Mississippi, not far from the birthplace of one of his biggest musical heroes, blues legend Howlin’ Wolf.

Earlier this summer, Dykes released Runnin’ with the Wolf (Provogue), a powerful tribute to Howlin' Wolf.

The album's 14 covers are far from carbon copies of the original versions. Dykes and his band, the Howlers, have been performing many of these songs for decades, so Dykes' own groove, vibe and spin shine through loud and clear.

"I do my little versions of the songs," Dykes said. "If Howlin’ Wolf were a 500-pound steel anvil, then I’m a little piece of steel wool that fell out of the pack.”

The album also features an original track, "Runnin' with the Wolf," which you can check out below.

We recently caught up with Dykes to discuss the new album, his other blues influences and future plans. For more about Dykes, check out his official website.

[[ GuitarWorld.com premiered Runnin’ with the Wolf in July. You can listen to the entire album here. ]]

GUITAR WORLD: How did you choose the 14 Howlin' Wolf covers that appear on Runnin' with the Wolf?

I worked on choosing the Howlin’ Wolf songs for about six months before I made the final track list. I’ve played and listened to Howlin’ Wolf my entire career. At first I wanted to do all of them, but I knew that wouldn't be impossible. I basically started with a list of all the tracks I love, which gave me about 30 songs. Then I had to consider what musicians I wanted to play on the songs and make decisions of instruments, harp, horns and all of that.

I had to decide if I wanted to do the most-recognized songs, the least-recognized songs or a combination. I was a little skeptical about doing the most famous songs because so many other artists have already done them. At one point, I thought I should divide the songs into two releases because there were so many songs I wanted to record. I finally was able to narrow it down to 14 songs, but it was really hard. There are still more I want to do someday.

Do you have a favorite track on the album?

If I had to choose, “Riding in the Moonlight” would be one because I've played that song for so many years. “The Red Rooster” has been one of my favorites since I was a teenager. I bought the 45 when I was about 13. In my hometown, you could only buy records at one store, so the ones I bought there all became treasures to me.

This is your 23rd album. What prompted the return to the Provogue label for this one?

[Label founder Ed Van Zijl] asked me if I was interested in recording another project with him, and I was glad to do it. I thought the Howlin’ Wolf material would be a perfect release on Provogue because it is something I've always wanted to record. They gave me a very generous recording budget for the studio so I could do the project justice. I used the best musicians, who are also my best friends and Howlin’ Wolf fanatics themselves, and we are all very proud of the end result.

I was not trying to copy Howlin’ Wolf because nobody can. I did want to put my own spin on the Howlin’ Wolf songs I've been playing for years. I'm grateful to Provogue for the opportunity to record this material after all this time. This is my 11th release on Provogue. I did my first release with them in 1990 and my last in 2001, so I've worked with Provogue for a long time. It seemed like it was the right time to do another release with them.

For people who are new to Howlin' Wolf, what five definitive Howlin' Wolf recordings should they download ASAP?

“Wang Dang Doodle,” “The Red Rooster,” “Smokestack Lightnin’,” “Spoonful” and “Killing Floor."

You dedicated one track to the late Hubert Sumlin. Did you ever get to play with him?

I had the privilege of playing with Hubert a couple of times. Both times were at Antone’s Blues Club in Austin. Hubert used to hang out there. One night I went to Antone’s when it was on Guadalupe Street, and Angela Strehli was playing with her band at the time. Mel Brown was there, and Denny Freeman. Hubert was also there and they asked me to come up and play with them on a few songs. I played Denny’s guitar and we did a couple of songs. The second time I got to play with Hubert was at the Antone’s location on 5th Street. I did a radio show with Ray Wylie Hubbard and stopped in Antone’s after the show. Jimmie Vaughan, Derek O’Brien, Scott Nelson, Chris Layton and Hubert were there, and I got up to play with them. I played and sang a few Howlin’ Wolf songs, and we all had a blast.

You've done two Jimmy Reed tribute records and now a Howlin' Wolf tribute album. Who might be next? Who are your other big heroes?

I will definitely do a tribute to Bo Diddley at some point. Bo Diddley and I are from the same hometown, McComb, Mississippi, and I've written a lot of songs with the Bo Diddley beat. I could do so many tributes mixed in with my Howlers releases because they're so fun to do. I love Elmore James, Robert Johnson, Hound Dog Taylor and Freddie King. I don’t know that I will do a tribute to all of these, but they are all worthy of being recognized by everybody.

What wah pedal is used on "Ooh Baby Hold Me," and who's playing guitar on the track?

The guitarist using the wah pedal on “Ooh Baby Hold Me” is the incredible Casper Rawls. The pedal is the Morley Bad Horsie. A guy gave it to Casper as part of his pay for a recording session. As I was selecting the songs, I had my girlfriend listen to Howlin’ Wolf’s version of “Ooh Baby Hold Me.” As soon as she heard the song, she told me it was perfect for me to sing because of my voice, and she could hear Casper playing wah and Kaz playing sax on the track. The final result is really her initial vision of the song, so I dedicated it to her.

What will the next original Omar Dykes album be like?

I like to mix up the material on my original releases. There have been so many musical influences in my life that it makes sense to include many genres of music on these later releases in my career. I just write and record what I really like and hope fans will like it too. My 2012 release, I’m Gone, includes blues, rockabilly, country and a ballad. I like to play everything, so that is what will be on my next Omar and the Howlers record. A little bit of everything.

Dave Reffett is a Berklee College of Music graduate and has worked with some of the best players in rock and metal. He is an instructor at (and the head of) the Hard Rock and Heavy Metal department at The Real School of Music in the metro Boston area. He also is a master clinician and a highly-in-demand private guitar teacher. He teaches lessons in person and worldwide via Skype. As an artist and performer, he is working on some soon-to-be revealed high-profile projects with A-list players in rock and metal. In 2009, he formed the musical project Shredding The Envelope and released the critically acclaimed album The Call Of The Flames. Dave also is an official artist endorsee for companies like Seymour Duncan, Gibson, Eminence and Esoterik Guitars, which in 2011 released a Dave Reffett signature model guitar, the DR-1. Dave has worked in the past at Sanctuary Records and Virgin Records, where he promoting acts like The Rolling Stones, Janet Jackson, Korn and Meat Loaf.

This 1994 interview with Hubert Sumlin is reprinted from Guitar Legends: Blues Power

“Wolf and I had some tremendous fights. He knocked my teeth out, and I knocked his out.”

“I never used a pick again—that was my secret to unlocking everything.”

“Clapton said, ‘If Hubert’s not there, I don’t record.’ ”

Few musical marriages have been so magical, so intuitively right, as that of the great blues singer Howlin’ Wolf and his guitarist, Hubert Sumlin. From the time he joined the blues legend’s band in 1954 until Wolf’s death in 1976, Sumlin played a central role in crafting some of the century’s most memorable and influential American roots music. His economical, stinging fills, unusual rhythmic approach and perfectly placed bent notes are as integral as Wolf’s growl to the blues power of classics like “Spoonful,” “Smokestack Lightnin’,” “Killing Floor” and “The Red Rooster.”

Blues and rock guitarists who cut and bloodied their teeth on Howlin’ Wolf tunes were heavily influenced by Sumlin: Hendrix often covered “Killing Floor”; the Rolling Stones, Clapton and countless lesser blues-rock lights continue to play “The Red Rooster”; the Doors remade “Back Door Man” in their own image; The Sky Is Crying, a 1991 collection of Stevie Ray Vaughan outtakes, includes the late guitarist’s version of “May I Have a Talk with You”; and Page, Clapton and Beck each flattered Sumlin by imitating him on “Spoonful” and “Smokestack Lightnin.’ ”

Sumlin backed Howlin’ Wolf for 23 years, a stretch broken only by six months in 1956 when he worked for Wolf’s arch rival, Muddy Waters. After Wolf’s death, Sumlin launched his long-delayed solo career, becoming a Chicago blues club fixture and making occasional festival appearances. Over the past 15 years, however, he has picked up steam, touring often and recording numerous albums. Sumlin, now 77, was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame in 2008 and still enjoys performing around the world.

GUITAR WORLD: Did Howlin’ Wolf explicitly tell you what to play?

Not really. When I first got with him, he told me that I wasn’t ready to play his music, so I should go home and think about it for a day, a week, a month or a year, whatever it took. “Come back when you’re ready,” he said. “When you figure out how to play my stuff, then you’re hired.” I went home and prayed and slept with my guitar under my pillow trying to figure something out, because I knew that this man was serious. Wolf did not bullshit.

I had played with a pick for eight or nine years, and I couldn’t put it down. Then I woke up one morning and started playing without a pick, and the first thing I thought of was “Smokestack Lightnin.’ ” I played it better than I ever had and realized, I don’t need no pick. I don’t need anything but my fingers. And that was it.

Everything fell into place when you got rid of the pick.

Exactly. I started playing with a lot more soul. I never used a pick again. That was my secret to unlocking everything. My tone, my sound, everything happened right then. People can’t understand how I play. The average guitar player don’t know what I’m doing. But it’s my thing. It’s what God gave me; I don’t need a pick because I got five fingers. How can one pick compete?

One unusual aspect of your style is that you don’t play a lot of chords.

No, I don’t, but I play a lot of tricks. Like Muddy Waters once said, I’ve got a lot of gimmicks up my sleeves. I know when to get in and when to get out. Lots of guitarists just miss out on that aspect of playing. I know how and where to put it, which is what it’s all about.

Did many of your personal playing trademarks develop as a result of playing with Howlin’ Wolf for so long?

Yes and no. I also played with Muddy Waters for six months and, Lord, I learned a lot from Jimmy Rogers [Waters’ lead guitarist]. I picked up from every guitarist I ever worked with. I’d take a note from here and a note from here, a lick from him and a lick from him, and put it all together. That’s the Hubert Sumlin style. And that’s what I would recommend any guitarist do: listen to players you like and pick things up from everyone and everywhere.

You have to learn how to use your instrument to its fullest. You got five different Es, you got five different As, and you got to use them all. If you’re all over the neck, you’re better. That’s why I never used a clamp [capo] like Muddy or Albert Collins or Jimmy Rogers: Why limit yourself? You’ll notice that kids coming up today play great, and they don’t use a clamp because they’ve got better knowledge of the instrument.

There’s one element of your background that’s almost unique among bluesmen: you studied guitar at the Chicago Conservatory of Music. What was the extent of your formal training?

I studied for six months with this old guy who was with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. It was the first time I ever saw a dude who played both opera and blues on his guitar. It had a huge impact on me, because I didn’t know the piano keyboard and I didn’t know how to read—I didn’t know an F from an A, an A from a B or a B from a C. That guy showed me so much in just six months.

Even though you always played electric guitar with Wolf, your sound often had a bit of a country blues vibe. Is that where you come from, musically?

Actually, when I was a kid I wanted to be a jazz player like Charlie Christian more than anything, but I also loved and heard the blues. [Those players] were all around me, and at a certain point, I realized how great all these dudes I listened to were: Charley Patton, Lonnie Johnson, Robert Johnson…all those guys. Peetie Wheatstraw, the “devil’s son-in-law”—Jesus, man, he was something! Then when I got with Wolf and Muddy I realized that they actually played with these guys, and that blew my mind. I’ll never forget my old 78 of Charlie Patton. He was a wizard, man, a genius. I tried to ask Wolf about him, and he said, “Aw, you young punk, you’re too young to understand.” It always hurt me that I missed out on seeing and playing with those old guys, because they wrote the book that Wolf and Muddy electrified and expanded. If Wolf and Muddy were the fathers of rock and roll, then those acoustic guys were the granddaddies.

It sounds like Wolf was very conscious of the age difference between you two.

Yeah. He told me one time, a couple of years before he died, that he was “40 years too early.” He said, “I plowed mules barefoot in December, with snow on the ground, the dirt frozen as a rock.” I said, “Don’t lie, man.” And he said, “I’m not lying. I’m 40 years too early. Things are getting better all the time.” The next year he got sick and went on a kidney dialysis machine.

It can be said that you are the link between the Delta bluesmen and rock and roll. On the one hand, you played with Wolf, who was a contemporary of Robert Johnson and the other guys you mentioned. At the same time, you also exerted a huge influence on the next generation—rock guitarists who weren’t really all that much younger than you.

I’m very proud of that, and I got to meet those guys. I met Eric Clapton in 1970 when I played on Wolf’s London Sessions. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but Clapton said, “If Hubert’s not there, I don’t record.” Then Wolf said he couldn’t record without me, so they had to bring me. Wolf was on a dialysis machine right in the studio, with doctors tending him night and day. He was so sick that on a couple of nights we didn’t even record; we just sat in the studio and got high. Mick Jagger and Bill Wyman came in, and we partied all night long, man. The cleaning lady came in the next morning and everyone was laying there on the floor. Mick Jagger had his head up inside the bass drum. [laughs] It was wild. We had a ball.

Did you spend much time with Clapton?

Yes. One day, Eric sent a limousine for me, and we drove for 30 or 40 miles outside of London to his big old mansion in the country. A gorgeous place, like a castle. We had a beautiful dinner, then he took me down to the basement, where he had all these guitars. It looked like a factory: three and a half walls of a room lined with every kind of guitar you can imagine.

He said, “Pick out a couple of those guitars, Hubert. I’m giving you two of them.” I walked all the way around the room, looking at every one of them. Then I saw this case sitting in the middle of the room. I sat down on the floor and said, “What’s in there?” He said, “It ain’t nothing, man.” I asked if I could take a look. He said. “You don’t want that.” I opened the case and took out this beautiful Fender Stratocaster and started playing it there, sitting on the floor.

He said, “Hey, man, I told you to pick any two you want from those that are up against the wall.” I said, “I know, but this Fender sure sounds good. Is it your regular?” He said, “It sure is.” I said, “I knew it, because that’s the one.” He said, “You mean to say you’re going to take it from me, man?” I said, “No, I can’t do it. I don’t want none of these.” He said, “Take it, man. At least I know it’s got a good home. Just promise me that if I ever want it back you’ll give it to me.”

I kept it for two years and hardly ever played it. Then we were both at the Montreaux Jazz Festival, and I brought it over to him. He asked me how much money I wanted, if there was anything I needed. I said, “Nothing man, it’s your guitar. Don’t embarrass me.” He just gave me a hug. He’s a nice guy. A beautiful guy.

Did you have any sense that you were making history when you recorded those classic tracks with Wolf?

No, and I really didn’t care. But I knew that he was going to be one of the greats. And I was so devoted that I wanted to push him to the top. When you’re recording for people the caliber of Howlin’ Wolf, you’re going to do your best. And in those days, there wasn’t even a question, man: you were going to play your guts out. There had been some days in the past when my stomach ached from not having anything to eat. When I recorded, I would remember those days and remember how I never wanted to go back to them. And I would play!

What kind of personal relationship did you have with Wolf?

We were like father and son, although we had some tremendous fights. He knocked my teeth out, and I knocked his out. None of it mattered; we always got right back together.

You fought with Wolf? He was a huge man.

Oh man, he was big. He could wrap one of his fingers around my guitar neck three times. One time after a gig, we were loading up the truck, and I wasn’t there because I’d run off with this cute girl who’d been sitting on my amplifier, smiling at me all night long. When I got back they were just finishing loading, and Wolf was standing on top of the stage. He started yelling at me, calling me every name you ever heard—and some you couldn’t imagine—because he had to load my gear. I was embarrassed, man, because this was right in front of the whole band.

So I thought, He can’t do this to me. He can’t humiliate me. So I waited until he was looking the other way, and I hit him in the face as hard as I could. He didn’t move. He just turned back real slow and slapped me with the back of his hand. I fell and rolled down the ramp that was pushed up to the stage to load the amps. I got up and walked back, screaming at him. When I got to the top he did the same thing again, and I rolled right back down, spitting out teeth.

Is that why you left to play with Muddy Waters?

No. Me and Wolf patched it up right away. In fact, the next morning, my wife woke me up and said that Wolf had been sitting in his car in front of my house all night long. I went out there and he apologized and gave me money to fix my mouth. I left to play with Muddy because he tripled my salary. They were rivals, and Muddy wanted to take me away from Wolf.

Was the rivalry between Wolf and Muddy apparent to everybody?

Sure. They were jealous of one another; they were enemies: “You stole my shit.” “You did this.” “You did that.” It was endless because they were the two biggest dudes in Chicago, and they were always arguing and competing about who was number one. [laughs] I’ll never forget the day we played the Ann Arbor Blues Festival, and Wolf and Muddy sat down and talked and made friends. They shook hands and said, “No more enemies.” That thrilled me so much, I went and got a beer. This is a business we do every day and love to death, and I never understood that jealousy. It’s music. Who cares who’s the best?

What are your memories of Jimi Hendrix?

He was just a little ol’ dude living in England. It was before his band, the Experience, hit it big. We played in Liverpool, the Beatles’ home, and in walked Jimi Hendrix, a little ol’ hip guy wearing earrings and a bandanna. Wolf said, “What the fuck is this guy? I ain’t saying nothing to that motherfucker.” He came right up to Wolf and asked if he could play his guitar. Wolf nodded and Hendrix picked it up, turned it over and played it with his teeth. [laughs] He played the hell out of it. Wolf looked at him, big-eyed, and said, “You hired, man, you hired!” He said, “No thank you, Mr. Wolf. But I admire you and the blues. You guys are 100 percent. Beautiful, man.”

I never played with him after that, but I saw him do his thing in New York, after he hit, and I fell in love. The guy was great! Just a little ol’ skinny youngster. He was in his twenties, but he looked 16 or 17, and he was good, man. I mean, really good.

Hendrix often called you a big influence. Your playing on several tracks from the Fifties represents some of the earliest instances of guitarist using distortion. How did you do that?

I was just using my Gibson and my Wabash amp, which I used for a long time. It was one of the first amps to have 15-inch speakers. I also got an Echoplex right when they came out, and combined with those 15-inch speakers, that made “distortion.”

What sort of Gibson did you play?

A Les Paul—I believe it was a ’56. I often played them. I also had a Kay guitar. For four years, Wolf didn’t have a piano or even a bass—just two guitars and drums, so Jody Williams [Wolf’s second guitarist] and I coordinated our parts closely and decided that we would both play Kays. I didn’t like that Les Paul all that much, but I sure do wish that I had it now. [laughs]