"ASPIRATION IS THE FIRST rung of the sky-kissing ladder;
realization is the last." Guru Sri Chinmoy's proverb brings
to mind one of his former followers, John McLaughlin,
who is at once on both ends of a musical sky-kissing ladder:
Despite his vast knowledge of theory and awesome technical
skills, he remains a searcher, an eternal aspirant. No matter how
lofty his achievements, he continues to look up, beyond. For
McLaughlin music is a flowing continuum, a river; his goal is not
to cross it but to swim in it, partake of it, drink from it - music is
to be traveled, explored through all its tributaries, to be revered
not so much for what it is as for where it goes.
McLaughlin's conception of himself as a traveler helps to
explain one of the most unusual things about him: It seems that
just when he masters a style and garners both critical acclaim and
commercial appeal - just when he molds an apparent identity for
himself - he strikes out anew, embarking from comfortable positions
where others would linger or retire. Where another artist
might change course in midstream, John McLaughlin changes
streams. As he has explained in the past: "For a new era to come,
the old one has to die."
Recording with Miles Davis, the Tony Williams Lifetime,
several versions of his own Mahavishnu Orchestra, and more
recently Shakti, McLaughlin has established himself as a leading
exponent of jazz-rock guitar. In 1974 he won Guitar Player's
awards as Best Jazz Guitarist and Best Overall Guitarist.
But trying to pigeonhole McLaughlin's style immediately
demonstrates the inadequacy of musical categories. "Jazz-rock"
really describes only a fragment of his music, much of which has
little to do with rock. Since the scope of his artistry is as astounding
as its depth, McLaughlin is best described simply and without
categorical restrictions: He is a musician. As he has said in past
interviews (see GP Nov-Dec. '72), he doesn't care what the music
is called, only that it be heard.
To begin to comprehend this diversity of McLaughlin's own
creative output, one might naturally look for eclecticism in his
roots. Sure enough, he has probed and been influenced by so
many kinds of music that it seems that after enumerating them all
little is left; indeed, the untapped sources might comprise a shorter
list. He has immersed himself in jazz, classical, and flamenco, in
the improvisational excursions of saxophonist John Coltrane and
sitarist Ravi Shankar; in composers from Beethoven to Stravinsky
and in guitarists from Tal Farlow to Jimi Hendrix. It would be a
formidable task just to find this music and listen to it all, let alone
assimilate much of it and synthesize new musical forms as well.
But McLaughlin has done just that; he is one of the most important
guitarists of the Seventies because aside from being a student
and master of past and present styles, he is a pioneer of new ones.
Born into a family of musicians in Yorkshire, England, on
January 4th, 1942, John listened to classical music as a child,
soon began to study piano and violin (his mother was a violinist),
encountered the music of American blues artists such as Big Bill
Broonzy and Leadbelly, and at age 11 learned a few guitar chords
from one of his three brothers. When he was about 13 he became
involved in flamenco and Spanish classical music, and the next
year he first heard Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli. (At
about this time John started using a pick in an attempt to sound
like Reinhardt.)
McLaughlin began to sit in with various jazz bands when he
was 16, and he continued to seek new musical inspiration. Charlie
Parker and Tal Farlow became heroes, as did Charles Mingus and
Art Blakey And The Jazz Messengers. A turning point was his
early discovery of the hard bop and soaring modal improvisations
of Miles Davis, particularly on the albums Milestones [Columbia
PC-9428] and Kind Of Blue [Columbia, PC-8163]. Coltrane's
complexity eluded McLaughlin for a while, but the young guitarist
had "finally" grasped it by the time he was 20 or 21.
In 1963 McLaughlin joined the Graham Bond Organization,
an English band that included bassist Jack Bruce and drummer
Ginger Baker, later members of Cream. He also worked with
Brian Auger's quintet. John had been brought up with little
religious training, but Bond introduced him to a number of books
on the occult, and in a search for spiritual bearings he joined
London's Theosophical Society, which exposed him to the writings
of various Eastern philosophical masters. He practiced yoga,
discovered Ravi Shankar, and began to investigate the misty
complexities of Indian music. Further probing led to his discovery
of the Indian vina, a stringed instrument with movable
frets and a gourd resonator at each end. John came to realize that
the conventional 6-string guitar would probably never give him
the fluidity of Coltrane's saxophone or Davis's trumpet; years
later, as Mahavishnu, he would design his own instrument, an
acoustic guitar with a scalloped fingerboard and extra strings (see
accompanying story).
A crucial discovery for John was Miles Davis At Carnegie
Hall [Columbia, PC-8612], an LP that featured an all-star lineup
of avant-garde players; drummer Tony Williams had an especially
numbing impact on McLaughlin. In the late 1960s McLaughlin
shared a London apartment with Dave Holland, a jazz bassist,
and one time the pair jammed with drummer Jack DeJohnette.
Holland later joined Miles Davis in New York, and he told Tony
Williams about his friend, the amazing guitarist back in London.
DeJohnette, who had recorded the McLaughlin jam session, returned
to the States and played the tape for Williams. In November
of 1968 Tony called John and asked him to join his new
group. McLaughlin came to America in early 1969 and was
recording with Miles Davis - having met him through Williams
- within 48 hours after his arrival. (Not long after that he found
himself jamming with Jimi Hendrix: see GP's special Hendrix
edition, Sept. '75.)
Williams and McLaughlin formed Lifetime with the late Larry
Young, who was incidently McLaughlin's favorite organist. The
trio was so important to John that he turned down an invitation
to become a member of Miles's group. After playing together as a
threesome for about a year, Lifetime was augmented by Jack
Bruce on bass. At about this time - mid-1970 - John associated
himself with Sri Chinmoy and adopted the name Mahuvishnu,
from the Indian religious names Maha the Creator and the Vishnu
the Preserver. After months of playing to small, obscure houses,
he left Lifetime because of various business disagreements.
McLaughlin cut Devotion, released in the summer of 1970
and then My Goal's Beyond released in 1971. During these latter
sessions he recorded with drummer Billy Cobham and violinist
Jerry Goodman. The three soon got together in 1972 with keyboardist
Jan Hammer and bassist Rick Laird. Calling themselves
the Mahavishnu Orchestra, they played a long engagement at
New York's Gaslight Club. Their first LP, The Inner Mounting
Flame, was soon released on Columbia; guitar players and other
listeners responded with much enthusiasm to the high-energy
mystical jazz, and critics were left to ransack their dictionaries for
new descriptive terms. Followup LPs included Birds Of Fire and
Between Nothingness And Eternity, a live album. In 1973
McLaughlin and fellow Chinmoy disciple Devadip Carlos
Santana collaborated on Love Devotion Surrender.
The tensions of success and various connects over artistic and
personal matters caused some bitter resentments and the eventual
breakup of the Mahavishnu Orchestra. It reformed with violinist
Jean-Luc Ponty and others. An expanded edition of the new
group released Apocalypse in 1974 (with Beatles producer George
Martin, conductor Michael Tilson Thomas, and the London
Symphony), and Visions Of The Emerald Beyond. John also
recorded a number of albums with one of his heros, Miles Davis,
including the historic In A Silent Way [Columbia PC-9857] and
Bitches Brew [Columbia PG-26].
McLaughlin had been studying Indian music for some time
when, in 1973, he met violinist L. Shankar. The two struck up an
immediate friendship and an intense interest in each other's musical
experiences. Another friend, tabla player Zakir Hussain,
joined McLaughlin and Shankar in forming an acoustic ensemble.
Shankar's uncle, R. Raghavan played the mridangam, an Indian
drum, and T. H. Vinayakram played several Indian instruments.
The group performed a few small concerts and did a little recording,
but McLaughlin was obligated at the time to spend most of
his energies on the Mahavishnu Orchestra's last LP, Inner Worlds.
Shortly after that record's completion McLaughlin devoted himself
to the group of Indian musicians. They took the name Shakti
and recorded three albums from 1975 to 1977.
McLaughlin's most recent LP is a particularly accessible work.
Entitled Johnny McLaughlin Electric Guitarist, it features over a
dozen distinguished players; some were fellow band members in
various phases of McLaughlin's musical evolution, and others are
old and new friends and jamming partners. His latest touring
ensemble is a quintet called the One Truth Band.
How much do you think equipment or even specific guitars matter
musically?
Well, your instrument is important. Mine is - even more so in the
last two or three years since I started doing most of my work on
my custom acoustic guitar with its scalloped fingerboard [see
accompanying story]. Every person has got a different tone inside -
in their own minds, in their own hearts - and I'm no exception. And
the same guitar would sound very different in two different people's
hands. Yet one of the special things for me is of course the
scalloped fingerboards, which now I use absolutely - I would never
go back to a regular fingerboard. In fact, the idea began six or
seven years ago when I was seriously studying the vina - a 7-string
instrument with four playing strings and three accompanying strings -
which is known in both north and south India. I
was studying the south Indian type with a
vina master up at Wesleyan University in
Connecticut. I was going up there once a
week or whenever I could get the time
from touring. The vina is such a marvelously
expressive instrument that when it
came to practicing my guitar, I began to
feel quite limited.
How much of a pitch change can you
get at any one fret?
It depends on the position of the guitar,
because way down by the nut it's much
more difficult to get a large bend. Although
on the acoustic 6-string, for example, on
the low E string I can bend F# up to B.
Wouldn't that create enormous technical
problems - starting with the string
already pulled down to a G and then easing
down to an F and then an E without
losing crispness and without under- or
overshooting the exact pitches?
Yes. But this is just an expansion of
technique employing the new fingerboard.
It is just a matter of practice. You have
this wonderful opportunity to really do
much more glide, portamento, sliding,
bending - with a much greater degree of
control than you get on a regular fingerboard.
It's a great opportunity, I think.
All I'm interested in is developing what
technique I have. I'm never satisfied with
what I have. I feel there's always a terrific
way to go. I'll probably feel that when I'm
50. But there you are, it's part of the deal,
isn't it? The possibilities are endless, you
know.
