Ask a guitarist to name five famous Les Paul players and you’ll probably get Slash, Jimmy Page, Pete Townsend and Joe Perry… and maybe Ace Frehley, or the late great Gary Moore. There’s plenty of players to choose from: a quick look at the Gibson website reveals that just amongst the models currently on sale there are 23 signature edition Les Pauls!

With so many legends making their name using Gibson’s most famous axe it’s easy to overlook the fact that every one ever made is a signature model of the “Wizard of Waukesha” Les Paul himself.

If, at this point, you’re wondering who Les Paul is you’re in good company. When I was a kid I had heard that he was the man who invented the electric guitar, and so I naturally assumed that he must be an engineer who worked for Gibson.

In this series I’m going to explore the life of Les Paul: the only man to be in both the Inventors and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and hopefully demonstrate why I believe he is the greatest example in history of musicianship and innovation acting in perfect (multitracked!) harmony.

First, let’s get a few things straight: Les Paul didn’t invent the electric guitar, the solid body guitar – or even the Gibson “Les Paul”! He did however have a key role in the development of all three. He was also responsible for innovations arguably even more important, which changed the way music would be made forever and paved the way for the jazz and country music of the 40′s to mutate into Sgt. Pepper and Dark Side of the Moon in the 60′s and 70′s.

We’ll start with a look at the classic Gibson “Les Paul” guitar, and Les’ role in its creation. In subsequent parts we’ll be learning about his vast contributions to the art and technology of recording, and audio effects.

Les Paul and the Birth of the Electric Guitar

As a youngster, Les Paul played acoustic guitar and harmonica in a hillbilly act under the name Rhubarb “Red” (where he invented the neck-mounted harmonica holder; but that’s another story).

After a show he was handed a note by an audience member saying “Your act is great, but no one can hear your guitar”. From that day forward he knew he needed to get amplified if he wanted to make the big time.

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Recent talk of the possibility of a new Queens of the Stone Age album before the end of 2011 has me certifiably giddy. I’m a big fan of lead-Queen Josh Homme’s side project Them Crooked Vultures, and their 2009 self-titled LP spent some serious time on my turntable. So, I suppose that has helped to tide me over.

But the Queens were so prolific for so long – they never went more than about two years between albums since they released their debut – that I’ve been hardwired to expect new music from them on a consistent basis. Now it’s been four years since they dropped their last LP, Era Vulgaris, and I’m going through withdrawals.

So maybe that’s why I’ve been obsessively rediscovering Era Vulgaris so much as of late. When the album came out in 2007, I listened to it quite a bit, but for one reason or another I never fully gave myself over to it. I liked it a lot; I just didn’t leave it in my car stereo for a year straight.

Fast-forward to 2011, and it’s one of the three albums I need to have within arm’s reach while I’m driving, lest I feel uneasy. I need to know I can reach for it, find it, and have it tunneling itself into my ear holes within seconds of the need arising. (I have it on my iPod, but I keep a CD copy on hand just in case. It’s a sad state of affairs.)

In large part, this is due to my seemingly unending love for the first track on the album, the densely layered – and awesomely unconventional – “Turnin’ On the Screw”. I don’t want to say that it’s radically unlike any other Queens of the Stone Age song, because the band has a history of exploring way more sonic ground than they’ve ever received credit for, and it’s not like this tune suddenly finds them unrecognizably genre-switching. It’s clearly Queens of the Stone Age.

Queens of the Stone Age – Turnin’ on the Screw

But there’s something gut-wrenchingly exciting about it, and it seems to stem from the band consciously exiting their comfort zone.

The reason I want to talk about it here is that, while it’s on the most base level a bludgeoning rock song, it’s also a track that demands to be listened to on headphones so you can really appreciate how well the band uses stereo mixing to add incredible texture to its many different sections.

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Local H are known for being a reliably straightforward rock band (you probably at least remember them for their few and minor radio hits in the mid to late ’90s), but on Pack Up the Cats, their third proper LP, the two-piece pulled some left-field moves that I’ve always thought were uniquely strange, kind of a gamble, but ultimately very cool. I’ve always felt the reason the band retained its cult following through the years is because they’ve never been afraid to, for lack of a better term, try stuff.

Pack Up the Cats features more than a few examples of that, but I want to talk about two sets of two songs in particular, and the ways in which they relate to each other.

Note: While there are clips embedded below, you’ll understand what I’m talking about best if you get hold of the album (e.g. Amazon, iTunes, Spotify) and give it a full listen.

Lucky /
Lucky Time

The third track on the record is “Lucky.” It’s 48 seconds long, and acts more as a bridge between the songs on either side of it than as a standalone cut. It consists of three major elements: the vocals, two heavily panned and flanged (or possibly phase-shifted) guitar parts, and a pack of apparently distressed cats meowing intermittently (this is the song from which the album takes its name).

Aside from the not-often-heard-in-rock-songs felines, “Lucky” is notable for a few reasons: First off, it’s a great example of how a minimalist approach to the backing track, coupled with some heavy effects, can really fill up space. The two guitar parts seem to shift back and forth rapidly, and instead of swirling, they’re timed so that they almost ping-pong off one another. It can be a little unnerving (especially if you’re wearing headphones), but it seems to work in a song that’s this short.

Lucky

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