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Early Years 1962: And the Winner Is... 1971: Playing on Freddie King's Albums 1958: Really Playing 1971: Backstage with Bob Posted 10/2006 Early Years Q: How did you start playing the guitar? A: When I was 4 years old, living in Denver, my parents had a couple of friends who were musicians—Tom and Bob from Tennessee. They would come over to the house and play country music. One day they let me hold a guitar, and that was it. Q: What was your first gig playing with a band? A: Pontrolli’s Ballroom at Brooklyn and Ford in East L.A. That was in ’58. The band was called “The Dominoes” (or "The Riffs"?). It was a wedding party—that turned into a brawl. Q: Have you ever played with Frank Zappa? A: No. Although we were both living in L.A., I never saw Frank Zappa play live. There is another musician, a keyboard player named Don W. Preston, who played with him. People have been confusing us for 45 years. Q: Besides the blues, what other styles of music do you listen to? A: Jazz, western swing, country, classical—anything good. Q: Who are some guitar players who influenced you? A: There are so many… Merle Travis, Les Paul, Barney Kessell, Chet Atkins, B.B. King, Albert King, Freddy King, Tommy Crook, Joe Pass, Wes Montgomery, Jimmy Bryant, Billy Butler, and Wayne Bennett, to name a few. Posted 3/2007 1962: And the Winner Is… In 1961, I was 19 and playing at Le Crazy Horse nightclub (formerly Ciro’s; currently The Comedy Club) on Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood with Donnie Brooks—a whole other story. We had played a party at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel for a bigwig  named Joe Pasternak. Apparently, someone liked me because a few months later, we were playing in Lake Tahoe, and I got a phone call from my mother. She said someone had called from the Academy Awards®. I called them back, and they told me “Town Without Pity” by Gene Pitney had been nominated for Best Song from the film of the same title—and they wanted me to play the guitar part on the show. Johnny Green was the musical director of the Academy Awards show in those days. So, I went to his big ol’ house in Beverly Hills, and there we rehearsed. I still have the charts. I had a 4-bar solo—easy as pie. As we were leaving, Ann Margaret was coming in to do her rehearsal. They rented me a tux. The show was at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, and I played my part sitting on a mike boom. We finished the song. I packed up, and then went to my gig at Le Crazy Horse. After the first show, we went over to the Beverly Wilshire and played the Awards party. Three gigs in one night—I slept well that night. Oh yeah, “Moon River” won the Academy Award for Best Song. Posted 5/2007 1971: Playing on Freddie King’s Albums When I was a young lad, I learned “Hideaway” and “San Jose,” so I was well aware of Freddie King. But all the credit goes to Leon Russell. The way it worked in the early 70s with Leon’s band was: We would get an itinerary for two weeks of gigs, and I would say, “Ah… an easy one.” Then a week or so out there, we would get another itinerary for maybe three more weeks. Pretty soon we would be out for two months or more. Now, I’m not complaining, but it did get tiring. So, word came that we had a week off in Chicago—that was good. Just lie around and smoke (another time and place). We were in a hotel corridor, and Leon says, “We’re cutting an album with Freddie King, and I want you to play on it.” I said something like, “Oh, man,” and Leon says, “Come on, it’ll be good for you.”  He was right. We cut Getting Ready in four or five days at Chess Studios in Chicago. Freddie was the most aggressive and confident guitar player I had ever seen or heard. And it was so much fun working out parts with my good old friend Duck Dunn. I’d say the experience of cutting “Goin’ Down” is probably the most fulfilling recording I've ever been part of. Six guys playing at peak intensity for one take. Yeah, buddy. Posted 8/2007 1958: Really Playing When I was 8 years old in 1951, I began taking guitar lessons from an older gentleman named Doc Binkard in Whittier, California. His task was to teach me to read and play chords. I didn’t make it easy because I wanted to play the fastest boogie in E and figure out songs. But he basically got me started. I took lessons for four or five years from Doc. He then turned me over to a teacher named Bob Thompson who could really play. He exposed me to BeBop, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, “Honky Tonk,” and so forth. I started playing in a couple of big bands in East L.A., and then in 1958, I joined Don Julian and the Meadowlarks, who recorded "The Jerk." I was booked with a pick-up band around that time to do a rock ’n’ roll show with The Six Teens, whose hit was “A Casual Look,” and with Bobby Day, who sang “Rockin’ Robin,” as well as with others I can’t remember. On the poster I was billed as “featuring Don Preston and his swinging guitar.” At that time, I was 16 and knew about 8 solo turns. So the show starts, everything goes along nicely, and then it was D.P. and his swingin' guitar. Naturally, I did a fast blues. My friend Scott Wilson had gone with me to the gig. He said he went outside, and when he came back in, he thought he was hearing a different guitar player. That was the night I actually started “playing” the guitar, finally. What fun  Posted 11/2007 1971: Backstage with Bob During the Concert for Bangladesh in between shows, a small group of people were sitting around, killing time in the locker room of Madison Square Garden. Bob Dylan was there, and he started playing and singing. There was a bass guitar nearby, and Leon Russell picked it up and started playing with him. So, Dylan finished the song, and Leon said, “What was that other one… uh, Masterpiece?” or something like that. Anyway, Dylan started singing “When I Paint That Masterpiece.” I hadn’t heard that song at the time, so I was knocked out. Then when he finished, Leon asked, “How’d that other one go…?” and so on. So, Bob Dylan sang another one. We had a mini Bob Dylan concert right there. What a cool way to kill time. During that same break, Don Nix was flitting around doing his impression of a hippie photographer snapping pictures of everyone. When he got to Bob Dylan, Dylan took his umbrella and pushed it up to the lens to block him. Quick as a wink, Don Nix said, “Don’t worry, there’s no film in the camera.” No blows were exchanged—and we all went away happy. © 2006-2008 Don Preston Guitar |
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