JIMMY PAGE: FE FI FO FIRM!

JIMMY PAGE: FE FI FO FIRM!

FEATURES

Liz Derringer

The Firm was formed by two of rock's most legendary figures—Paul Rodgers, the powerful lead singer for Bad Company and Free, and Jimmy Page, the elusive guitar virtuoso of the ’60s and ’70s supergroup, Led Zeppelin.

In this conversation—over oysters and wine in a Los Angeles hotel suite—Jimmy Page is quick to set the record straight on his position with the Firm. Intensely he goes on to satisfy some curiosities about his own “enigmatic” persona. Page acknowledges his flamboyant reputation, and willingly bares his soul when reminiscing about his notorious image. He elaborates some of the details of his deeply-rooted theological beliefs, his relationship with Led Zeppelin, Robert Plant, and the devastating loss of his close friend, drummer John Bonham. He also talks about his musical ideologies and his eccentric private lifestyle.

Tell me about the Firm, you and Paul Rodgers were friends—then what happened?

We were acquainted on sort of a nodding-hello terms for many years. That’s the important thing, because during the period, where I was being pretty barren musically, as opposed to a few sessions, I thought of what scene do I really dig? It’s like Paul Rodgers came up and just shone out. This was before the ARMS tour. I knew that he hadn’t been onstage for the same amount of time as I. Everyone was saying that I should get together with Paul—I think Bad Company had broken up before the demise of Led Zeppelin. Well, I didn’t know whether he would do this sort of thing. Anyway, we got together for a few days and played some things—and that’s where the embryonic part of the group as I see it now, chronologically, happened. When we first got together, we worked on “Midnight Moonlight”—that’s a song on the Firm record.

And that’s the first song you wrote together?

Yeah, if it hadn’t been for that, there would have been no ARMS tour. There would have been no Firm, nothing. But as far as the group goes, it wasn’t like this, a concentrated project. We both, really, deep down in our hearts, really wanted to get back on stage,and neither of us had a vehicle. The English press carried on about it even before we started. They had a picture of us, when they heard about it. There was a picture of myself and Paul Rodgers from the ARMS tour and it said “Dead Hippies Wake.” (laughs)

Oh no! (laughs)

“I’m not saying in my life I’ll never play ‘Stairway To Heaven’ again— certainly I will. ”

I thought great, fine, none of you come to see the show, let the people who really want to see the show come. And there were no press passes at all. They were so annoyed—you’d think they would go and buy a ticket to get to see a show, but no way. We have to. / do. I was really pleased I did it, ’cause everyone said “You can’t do that,” and I said, “I jolly well will."

How did you and Paul originally get together for the ARMS tour?

The ARMS tour came up and I felt that it would be professional suicide to do such a thing, not having played onstage for so many years. Anyway, with all these chaps like Jeff (Beck), and Eric (Clapton) who have total solo careers—and I didn’t have one at all. Fortunately, in London, when it started up, Steve Winwood was singing on my set. It was a great feeling in London, the two shows that we did. Going to America was discussed, and Steve didn’t really want to go to America at that point in time, he had some other things going. So I didn’t have a singer anymore, I didn’t have a solo career and I was in a bind. I started racking my brains, and I thought well, maybe as we have “Bird on the Wing” together or “Midnight Moonlight,” as it was called then, I’ll give Paul a call and explain the whole ARMS Project and see whether he’s interested. He was. He could have been committing professional suicide as well, coming with me to do something like that, where everybody’s got their sets totally tight and everything. That’s the first time there was this added extra spark, apart from working together. We have a marvelous communication when we play together as songwriters as well as musicians. There was a lot of warmth in that.

What does “the Firm” mean?

The term “the firm” in England is when all the boys go out together at night, without the wives or girlfriends {laughs). It’s the old firm chaps that are all out together.

Are you enjoying playing together; is it a change for you?

I’m enjoying it extremely—we played a few dates up 'till now, and every show’s been better and better than the last. I can’t wait to play the next date. That’s the honest truth; there’s always something extra and different. OK, one number might not be as good as the night before, but then again, a number that you hadn’t thought was good sort of really blossomed, it really flourishes. That’s how it’s been—it’s wonderful, it is.

What about the time between Led Zeppelin’s demise and the ARMS tour? I know that you did the soundtrack for Death Wish II and you played with Roy Harper. Who is he?

I can’t equate him with anyone over here, because he’s far too political. He’s a solo folk singer, a sort of a minstrel. Did you want to form a different band when Zeppelin ended?

Well, ah, when Zeppelin ended I couldn’t possibly conceive of playing with any other drummer at all because I lost a very close friend. Somebody I felt was the best drummer in the world. That was the ultimate for me, John Bonham, he absolutely was. And now, even possibly more so than ever. When he was gone, it took me like months and months to realize he really was gone. I couldn’t believe it. Anyone who has the loss of a close friend—you always think they’re going to walk in the door the next minute, but they don’t.

So is that basically why Led Zeppelin never got back together?

Well, anyone who had ever saw Led Zeppelin onstage and knew the records would know why we never got back together again under that name. It would have been an insult to that 25 percent that made up the band—everyone gave a hundred percent of themselves. It was a four piece unit.

Were you very nervous at that point?

I didn’t really think about it, I’ll be perfectly truthful. I couldn’t think of playing with another drummer because I just knew it couldn’t be the same. They’d just disappoint me, and it wouldn’t be fair to the drummer who would be playing his heart out. I didn’t want to know about anything.

What did you do at that point?

I didn’t do anything. I just sat there feeling sorry for myself and for the whole situation. Not just for myself, I felt more sorry for his family. But, I must admit, I didn't know what I was gonna do. If I saw the guitar, I didn’t want to touch it— because it just reminded me of everything. So it was for about nine months that I didn’t touch the guitar. When I did I was in for a shock: I couldn’t change chords. Now if Bonzo (John Bonham) had been a poltergeist, he would’ve kicked me in the ass about it. (laughs)

Your career began as a session guitarist. You played with different bands, one of which was the Yardbirds.

The only other band I played in was with a band that isn’t even worth mentioning the name.

How old were you then?

You have your school system here, before you go to what you call college. In England, it’s university—you take a set number of exams, and they evaluate you on those. During a period that I was supposed to be studying, I surprised myself on what I had gotten on the actual grades. So you must have been 19 or 20 years old?

I suppose I was. I was still playing music, and playing with a band. Mostly played on weekends.

Was this when you were in art school?

No, this was before that. Rock ’n’ roll had become like a drug at that point. That was the most important thing to me, really. It was my hobby, I suppose, but I still tried to keep a parallel with my schoolwork. Nevertheless, I didn’t see it until many years later but it had taken me over.

/ think rock ’n' roll has a way of doing that.

It certainly has. All I was thinking about was music, music, music. The other thing I was interested in was art. And then I went to art college.

You grew up in London?

Yes, south London.

What kind of childhood did you have? Anything interesting, or just growing up with rock ’n’ roll music?

That was my escape.

What were you escaping from?

Escaping from the family. It was that simple. It was one of those unfortunate families that some people are born into. How so?

Well, for starters, everyone was always locking heads with everyone else. I’d just play my guitar all day long and escape from all the nonsense that was going on. You liked all kinds of music, I suppose, from rock ’n’ roll at the time to whoever was popular?

Yeah, but it wasn’t just what was popular, it was whatever caught my imagination. People like Jerry Lee Lewis, who we heard in London, rebels of the time. That sort of guy was second only to Presley—he marries a young chick and sticks by her. Really, no matter what you think of it, he’s a man of principle. They may not be anybody else’s principles, but it’s very interesting.

I recently interviewed Little Richard...

There’s two people that I can think of that haven’t lost their voices; Tina Turner and him. Their voices have gotten better. A lot of these rock singers mellowed out as they went on.

When you joined the Yardbirds, what was that like?

It was wonderful—and out of it you got Eric (Clapton) and Jeff (Beck), yeah, sure. Three of the main guitarists of England came out of that one band. Personally, I think Jeff is the best guitarist there is, as far as I’m concerned. Beck is the most natural guitarist, he really is. He could not play his instrument for a year and can still play the same as before, he s a monster. {laughs)

Were you ever in a band with Eric and Jeff at the same time?

Not with Eric, that’s why the ARMS tour was neat. It was the first time all three of us ever played on one stage.

You were playing bass at first in the Yardbirds—how come?

I started off on the bass because that’s the guy who left the band. Jeff would often say to me, “It would be great if we both played lead guitar in the band, if we had a dual lead guitar.” I said, “That would be fantastic”—but at the time it was known as “Five Live Yardbirds,’’ and it would have been Six. It wouldn’t work. However, it was great though, when Samwell-Smith left. Once Chris Dreja switched from rhythm guitar to bass, then we started playing guitar together, Jeff and I.

Did you enjoy that period?

Oh, it was wonderful, I really enjoyed that.

I imagine you are all still good friends.

All of us are. Obviously, there is a sort of competitive thing we do, like the ARMS tour. There’s no way that tour could possibly have worked in any other circumstance other than research into Ronnie Lane’s cause. If you’d imagine us three guys on stage, you’d expect so much bitching and upstaging going on, but it wasn’t like that at all.

Well, you’re all 40 years old. I’m sure you have a lot of ego behind you.

It doesn’t make any difference whatsoever. All I know is about how things can be, and the way that everyone was. People said that they’ve never known a tour like this. Let alone the fact that when you really think about it, there was all these other people. It was outrageous. We were there for Ronnie; everybody was doing it and not bitching.

One of the highlights of the show was your “Stairway To Heaven’’ solo.

After not playing on the stage for three years, what it was, was the feedback from the audience. It was like, “Good to see you back.”

OK, Jimmy, let’s get down to business.

Oh, get down to business, hit me hard. Can I ask you some questions that everyone wants to know about you?

Do that.

Of all the Led Zeppelin rumors, especially the songs, satanic message always come up. They say “Stainway To Heaven" was “Satan Is Lord," backwards. Is that true?

I have heard it played backwards and, it was quite amusing as opposed to amazing {laughs). If I spent my whole life playing my whole record collection backwards, while I was trying to learn guitar from records, when I was in my teens, I couldn’t have been where I was then.

But some people do that, try to hear messages in songs.

I suppose. It was like the whole thing about “Paul is dead,” from the Beatles.

It was really just some guy with a sense of humor, I would assume. Yes, I guess someone could hear something that would possibly sound like that.

Did you do that consciously?

What do you think? It was quite possible it might work out that way in reverse. But it’s positive and negative, isn’t it? Honestly—if you say “Stairway To Heaven,” you should ask Robert (Plant) because he did the lyrics. All this stuff is always designed at me. I mean, you figure they’re listening to a eight-and-a-half minute song, and they’re listening to all the lyrics, they could find one that sounds like something in reverse. It’s a joke— not your question, but the whole situation. How does it affect you that you've been referred to as “The Kiss of Death?’’

I’ve never done anything a person didn’t want.

Well, you know people like to start rumors.

It’s just people, that—it’s stupid people. I’m only saying they’re stupid if they try to advertise that fact that they’ve found some great key to something. They wouldn't understand the key if they even heard it in the first place. It’s as simple as that—they don’t know. Those records were extremely emotional, and the way that they interpret it—deep intense emotion was satanic—they’ve got no idea what we were about.

Many people equate the name Jimmy Page with black magic. You bought Aleister Crowley's house and all that. You must be interested in it.

Sure, I’m interested in it. I’m interested in all the theology. I really did in-depth psychology, and studied religions of the world, and thought that was relevant to the 20th century. Absolutely, and I read Nietzsche as well, and that’s not very acceptable these days after World War II. As far as I’m concerned, that’s equally as important as the other things I’ve been reading. It’s equally important outside of that are the artists I’ve followed: Rossetti, William Morris—the socialist, former socialist. All of that is equally as important to me as anything. People find one area where they hear you’ve been into, one of your outside sort of things you read...you know, some musicians read as well as play. I’ve got to say it. The other thing is that it’s so easy to pick up on something like that, and suddenly you’re a black magician. What is black magic to them, a chocolate? It is in England, it’s a chocolate.

Do you do incantations or anything like that?

I have never practiced any black magic in my life.

Does it upset you to talk about it?

No, I wouldn’t talk about it if I didn’t want to say it. I’ve been extremly interested in the underlying esoteric practice of what these particular beliefs—of systems and underlying systems—were built upon, that’s all. It’s purely, I mean...I could take a degree in theology, and perhaps then I’d clean my slate.

You are an eclectic person—and whatever knowledge is available, I'm sure you want it. I think you 're saying that it was just one aspect of your many interests at the time, and the public picked up on it.

Yes, but as far as my personal life goes, I was extremely interested in religion. I was interested in the Jewish Christian Church fighting the Gnostic Christian Church fighting the Roman Christian Church in those days. The Gnostics were the first to disappear, and yet there seems to be more truth within the Gnostic gospels. It seems to be the one that one can relate to far more than the ones that one has to relate to these days, the New Testament and everything.

I believe without any doubt that Christ lived, and it was all right.

Speaking of religion, I just want to ask you, why did you wear Nazi regalia on stage at one time? You had upset some people.

Good. How could I put this? I could have thrown this back really well, but I can’t—not with you. Yeah, well I tell you, I’d rather have the whole backstage— instead of how it is now—draped with like a Nazi flag, the Confederate flag, the Japanese flag, just so people sort of get shocked out of their inhibitions. Whereby, if they need to, most people don’t have these prejudices. The past is the past, is the past, is the past. But it can shock people, and sometime people really need to be disturbed.

Didn’t Mae West once say, “If people are shocked, then they need to be’’?

You want to know something? When I was in art college, I came to one definite conclusion. Art had to shock—not just you either hate it or love it, that’s that. That’s art. Even the guy who collects the refuse down the road, and makes us form a statement on it. At least that is as important as some stupid idiot in a mink coat who wants to fill up a wall.

It’s got to affect people, or else it’s not worth doing.

I’ve got to tell you, I was wearing that uniform, and I didn’t wear the whole uniform, god no—I just wore the boots and jodphurs and the hat. Somebody thought it was a captain’s uniform, an American girl. And she was no teenager. Let’s talk about the ’60s. Remember coming down to the Scene Club?

That was incredible. Warhol did all these interior decorations with bakers foil, what you cook turkeys with...

Aluminum foil.

Yeah, silver paper everywhere, and the Velvet Underground were there. And they were brilliant, absolutely brilliant. We used to go down there. I tell you, it was marvelous to witness them playing. They were fantastic. They were brilliant, every single one of them, from Maureen Tucker, Lou Reed, to John Cale. Every single one of them was brilliant. That really was sort of a band that I could always relate to and always will relate to.

Were you very successful then?

I was still in the Yardbirds then. I wasn’t successful at all, really.

You were young and carefree at the time. (laughs) As much as you could be.

I was still a virgin then.

Sure you were.

I was until last week. (laughs) Yes, they were wonderful times—Warhol being on the scene, and being part of rock ’n’ roll as opposed to whatever he did afterwards. The thing was, there was a fusion of music going on then. There was this jazz thing and all this, and you found that artistic contemporaries were coming in— which is how it used to be in the old times. You think about the Renaissance, artists and musicians as contemporaries that used to mix.

Tell me about the crazy Led Zeppelin days. Do you want to talk about them?

You can ask me what you want—I’ll leave it to your discretion.

The days of Led Zeppelin, musically everything has been said through your popularity; people loved the band, there’s no denying that. What were some of the fun times? Was there anything in particular?

It was all good, I don’t have many bad memories at all. (laughs) I’ve got a couple. Most of it was just a privilege, an honor to have been in that band. The music that we put together with four people said a lot for human nature. That’s what really hurt my feelings, apart from anything else. John was a great friend. The fact is that there was so much there, and is today. We knew that when it happened.

The mystique that surrounds that band— when Led Zeppelin came to town, they took over. Everyone wanted to be there.

That’s fun, isn’t it? That’s the perks of rock ’n’ roll.

When Peter Grant (Led Zeppelin’s manager) would get into rages...

Well, you see, the thing was, within the band itself with four musicians, there wasn’t any sort of violence. If there was violence, it would be within the room. You just had enough of a long tour, when you would get a bad phone call from home, the only thing that’s going to suffer usually is the room. It’s as simple as that; it’s like a road fever. It could always hit you, like a flu or a cold, it’s just different sort of circumstances. Every man is a product of his own environment. When you have a disease, everything’s quite imbalanced. You understand, don’t you? It’s just the circumstances that you’re in, that's what used to happen. Some things used to happen where everyone would have a bit of fun and turn everybody’s room over. But not neccessarily bad things.

What about all the infamous stories?

I’ve done everything you’ve ever heard. (laughs) In a way, people will think I’ve had a better life than I really have had. (laughs)

I think you’ve had more life experiences at your age than most people have in an entire lifetime. Don’t you?

Oh, I’ve already lived a thousand years. I’m going into my second millenium. Another way to describe you, I wrote down some adjectives, OK?

OH GOD! Now steady on me Liz, be fair. “Bastard,” is that one of them?— no, that’s a noun. (Laughs hysterically) Spiritual?

Yes, extremely religious. Totally, 100 percent religious.

Ethereal?

I don’t know about that, that’s pretentious. I wouldn’t know what to say about that, because of the reputation. But enigmatic, possibly. That’s something you have to live up to.

/ once asked Daryl Hall if he thought of himself as spiritual, and he said the word is soulful.

I don’t think you can play music unless you understand a certain spirit within the whole. First of all, he says “soulful”— that’s emotion, it’s as simple as that. It’s just playing with emotion and conviction. You have to.

You see, this is the difference between someone who is extremely technical as a player, which I’m not. I don’t even know what I’ve got. The feelings within you, getting it across. When you have that in you, you don’t even know it happens. Sometimes yes, you can work it out, this, that and the other, onstage. But it’s hard. You figure, I’ll do this, that and the other, but usually it just comes out in bursts. It overtakes you, it’s an overwhelming feeling. The fact is that you’re actually being able to portray or interpret it. It takes over a particular point in time, when you’re playing. I don’t even know what I’m playing a lot of the time. I think afterwards, hey that was good, but I don’t even know what I played. I don’t have a clue.

I think you 're saying why people love Jimmy Page.

Yeah, well I don’t understand that side of Jimmy Page, I don’t. I don’t want to make a big thing of it, because I don’t understand it.

Have you ever explored areas like clairvoyance or channeling?

I’ve witnessed it.

Do you believe that you’ve lived before?

I’m sure I’ve lived before, once. But I don’t know when—I only know I drowned. Didn't you have a bookstore called “The Equinox"?

Yeah, I did. It was supposed to be like a nucleus where people could all get together, but it didn’t work that way. They just stole the books. (laughs) It’s true, I was away for a year and I couldn’t handle it.

Where do you live now?

I live in Windsor. But I just move around. It’s nice to have the ability to go around and people don’t know who you are. It’s quite nice. I couldn’t do that here. Does that bother you?

It’s interesting that you always get recognized at the times when you don’t want to be. I respect the fact that they'd even bother to know anything about you, to the degree that they’d say, “oh, that’s so and so.” But it is nice.

You were never married, were you?

No.

Are you still with Charolette?

No.

You have a daughter, Scarlet?

Yes.

How old is she now?

Fourteen, by the time this comes out. Is she beautiful like you?

She's better than me, she’d be insulted if you said that (laughs). She’s a lovely girl, a beautiful little lady.

Are you a good father?

I don’t know. If she thinks I am, then I am very privileged to hear her say it. She’s had a pretty irresponsible father.

I mean she’s 14, and my mental age is probably 12 (laughs). She is very strong, very wise—she’s Aries for a start. She’s really head/brain oriented.

What’s your lifestyle like, other than musically?

“The Velvet Underground were brilliant. That really was sort of a band that I could relate to and always will relate to. ”

Acting like a kid with the lads, playing snooker, things like that. Silly game like that, pinball machines...

What the hell is snooker?

Yeah, that’s my sport, playing snooker. It’s like pool, but it’s one-fourth of the size of the table. I don’t run around a field kicking balls around, I love that game. It’s like chess, it’s absolutely parallel with chess, except that you have to be physical with it. You always kept in shape, and kept your image of the dark-haired mysterious guitar player.

Oh, steady now, I’m putting on weight. There are rumors that you and Robert Plant aren’t speaking. Is that true?

I suppose it could be looked upon that way. I mean, I played on the Honeydrippers album. I was talking to him, I talked to him since the “Sea Of Love.” You know, we are great friends. I mean, that was like a marriage, like Lennon and McCartney was a marriage. Paul was destroyed when Lennon died. I really felt for the guy. I’m speaking symbolically when I say marriage. We were like very close brothers. Like Jagger and Richards, Lennon and McCartney, myself and Robert. When you start off right from the beginning, and you look back many years later, there’s so many milestones. Especially for me and Robert, like “Stairway”—people could relate to things that you couldn’t have even comprehended when you started. You were talking about Robert, but I’m equating it with other guys that have written songs together. They become as brothers, and you know, in retrospect, looking back at what you’ve been a part of, and you know how it’s touched other people, you can’t help but be really close. I hope people don’t take it wrong when I say “like a marriage,” but it was.

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Jimmy Page ‘‘The Legend”—what does that mean to you?

Well, that baffles me. At certain points it’s almost frightening, because of what’s expected of me, especially when I came back for the ARMS tour. I wasn’t playing anywhere near the way I was playing when I was in Zeppelin. I was just rusty as hell—but me being a compulsive gambler, it was all of my instincts at that point. I had to do it, just to see what the overall feeling was. Even if I had a bad reaction, I would’ve take the positive aspects of it, and would’ve fed off that, and still wanted to come back and be truthful. The way I’m playing now, in this particular tour, I don’t think I disappointed anyone who is a real Zeppelin fan in such a way—though, they know that I’m not doing Zeppelin material. You were talking before about the ’60s, and there was such an acceptance of all forms of music. It’s gotten very fashion-conscious again; if you aren’t the first, you’ve had it. Your longevity speaks for itself.

Well, you know, I’m over 40. You have no idea what it’s like. They’re very fickle in England. They buy “popular” records. We were never a heavy metal band, we were hard rock—although we may have had areas in it which were what is called Heavy Metal. Nevertheless, that music is like the underground music over there now. It doesn’t get played on the radio or anything, you know, and there is such a following for Heavy Metal bands.

The Firm record is doing well.

It establishes what I believe in. If you really play music with conviction, it’s still accepted. That’s that, without you having to be a pastiche of what you were before. I’m not saying in my life I’ll never play “Stairway” again—certainly I will.

Do you ever want a solo career?

No, I like being part of a unit. It’s absolutely touching, I must admit, I did hope the reaction to the Firm would be like this. That you could go out there with two entities like Paul and myself. Let’s put it another way: There have been a few cynical things. What I would class as cynicism, even if they might be purely innocent statements. Deep down, I feel it’s a misunderstanding that critics say the Firm is a “superstar band.”

Some people might have thought it might have been. If it was, it would be myself and Paul and someone like Cozy Powell, and some well-known bass player, like an Asia type of situation. But if it were like that, I would have come over and played an instrumental “Stairway to Heaven” with this band. How would we feel? I couldn’t live with that. I was determined not to do that sort of thing at this stage in time. Because what’s worse, after having lived the music that you’ve done, which is only an extention of yourself, for that amount of time, to suddenly go a step back and take it easy and rest on your laurels automatically, if you do that, you’d just be part of nostalgia.

I know I’m part nostalgia, but it’s rewarding to know that people will listen to what you might want to do in the future. I’m not saying I’ll never play those numbers again, at least “Stairway,” I love to play that number. But it’s not right in this situation at all.

Why do you do “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling”?

It got to the point where we were sort of trying to write material and stuff—well, we had material with the lyrics not finished and things like that. I just asked if there were any numbers that he’d like to do from his favorite records, like from the blues stuff, you know. And he said, “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling.” We tried to play it that day and I couldn’t remember it. So I got the record. Tony (Franklin) and Chris (Slade) were there the next day, and it just worked really great. I could see why he wanted to do it—it’s just beautiful for the voice, and he sings it so well. That man’s voice is stunning. People may misinterpret this, and think that the album was done like really rushed, but it wasn’t. I tell you, there was so much criticism from the two of us. Of course, we were putting our careers at stake in a way, even though it was a casual thing that the two of us put together. No matter what way the business wants to interpret it, that’s the way it was. The two of us got together to get out on the road and do a tour.

Who influenced you, guitar-wise?

At the moment, I may just appear to be the chameleon I am musically. I’ve been interested in so many styles of guitar from Segovia to Django Reinhardt to Jimi Hendrix.

I know you like Django.

Oh, I love him.

You remind me of him in a gypsy sense.

The whole thing is, he is a brilliant guitar player. He had an accident whereby he could only use two fingers. How could he play like that? He was like what Leonardo Di Vinci was to art, that’s the way I see it.

Most people don’t know the name.

I could listen to all the guitarists that influenced me, and I can show anyone where Django Reinhardt is in there. I can relate it back to his records. He had a heart attack and he came back in—six months before he died—and played, and it set the whole textbook up for jazz. All the modern chord changes. I’d have licked his shoes if I could.

What about Les Paul?

He’s Django Reinhardt.

Was he an influence on you at all?

Oh yes, yes. I used to listen to him because he was so flamboyant. If it weren’t for Les Paul, there would be no electric guitars or multi-track recording. He fathered the whole damn thing. There are some really good guitar players out there.

I’m into total extremes. We’re all playing music, and we’re playing with conviction. It can’t fail!