INTRODUCTION

INTRODUCTION

Personally, when I say the words “guitar hero" I think of Jimi Hendrix. Maybe that’s because of his War Heroes album; when the distinctions get blurred there’s really no difference between a sniper running through the jungle and a crazy man pouring lighter fluid on an electric guitar. There’s a romantic aspect to the guitar that rock ’n’ roll’s not only encouraged but thrived upon: whatever I might personally think of Angus Young’s prowess as a guitarist, I’d much rather see him on the cover of CREEM than Christopher Cross or Linda Ronstadt. Because, obviously, rock ’n’ roll and those two pop singers are barely related, and because of that hint of “outlaw blues” behind the guitar that 15 million synthesizers and as many Elton Johns can never hold a candle to. It’s in the vocabulary, basically.

This Special Edition of CREEM takes a more studied approach than usual, mostly because this isn’t a topic to be approached lightly. We’ve tried to consider the Guitar Hero from the classic standpoint—Clapton. Beck and Page really represent that, at least to anyone my age, and Jimi Hendrix remains his own very separate story. Keith Richards fit in ever since “Satisfaction,” anything since has been almost redundant. Downward, a few hundred more guitarists—forgive our leaving out your favorite, but hey, even / play guitar— and we’ve tried to cover as broad a base as possible.

What it boils down to: rock ’n’ roll carried with it one burning image, one which isn’t hard to decipher. “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” “My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama,” and “Smash Your Guitar.” Jimi Hendrix sticking his between his legs, smashing it. Like Pete Townshend did. Like Jeff Beck did. Rubbing it, like Jimmy Page did. Making it scream, screech, yawn, crackle, bellow, wail; playing carefully, quietly, quickly, tastefully. It’s the basic tool, and it’s what makes rock ’n' roll great. That it’s cheap, loud and electric makes it even better.

Dave DiMartino