1

2

Texas Blues GuitarMississippi may be ‘the home state of the blues’ in most minds,but Texas gives the Magnolia State a brisk run for the moneyin terms of the number of influential blues artists who havecalled it home. A sample roll call – Texas Alexander, BlindLemon Jefferson, Sippie Wallace, T-Bone Walker, Amos Milburn,Charles Brown, Pee Wee Cray ton, Larry Davis, Eddie‘Cleanhead’ Vinson – serves to make the point. The four menseen and heard in this video exemplify different aspects anderas of Texas blues tradition: Mance Lipscomb is very near thework-song source, while Lightnin’ Hopkins delivers music evok-ing both country dances and a ‘street smart’ farm-to-ghettosensibility. Freddie King took urban Texas blues into the funkera without missing a beat, and Albert Collins seemingly met

him there. There is a stylisticdiversity here which spans

decades of development. Yet for all the dissimilarity of

approach and purpose of these artists (Mance

couldn’t be less of a showman, while Freddie King lived for the spot-light), there is one unifying element among all these performers: all ‘pick’ with

the thumb and index finger, a characteristic so universal one might call it the Texas pinch.’

3

Texans, of course, aren’t alone in playing that way but it’snotable that exceptions to this rule were so rare. Before look-ing for other regional similarities among these artists, the roleof the guitar in the blues – and, for that matter, in Texas –must be considered. It seems ironic that the instruments mostprominently identified with blues soloists – piano, harmonica,and guitar – were all of European origin, while the African-American banjo played little role in the music and quickly fellinto disfavor as the popularity of the blues spread. The rise ofthis genre appears to have been simultaneous with the wide-spread dissemination of mass-produced guitars in late nine-teenth century America.

However, guitars were no strangers in Texas, a state witha long-standing Hispanic history. We don’t know what ex-change (if any) existed between guitar-playing Hispanics andthe African-American populace of Texas. When the new soundof the blues and the newly-available guitar came together,did Texans have an edge earned from familiarity with the in-strument? It’s tempting to speculate, but in truth we don’tknow.

What we do know is that a remarkably diverse group ofTexas blues singer-guitarists etched their legacy onto 78s inthe pre-Depression ‘golden age’ of country blues. For the mostpart, little is known of these men though some are figures oflegend, and for good reason. Blind Lemon Jefferson (ca. 1897-1929) wove rhythmically complex and stunningly inventiveconversations between his voice and guitar. The success ofhis 1926 recording, “Long Lonesome Blues,” is said to havesparked the commercial recording industry’s interest in coun-try blues. Blind Willie Johnson (ca.1902 – ca.1947), a fero-cious sacred singer with a stylistic kinship to blues, was abottleneck guitarist nonpareil. Henry ‘Ragtime’ Thomas (1874-1930) played a simple strumming style which fit his innocentlyebullient music. All these men were Texans and none soundedthe least bit like the other. The state is vast and so were op-portunities to develop regional and individual ‘voices’ in anera when the influence of records on repertoire and style wasnascent.

Two decades after Jefferson’s recording debut, Texans con-tinued to be in the vanguard of guitar-centered blues. T-BoneWalker (1910-1975) single-handedly invented a jazz-tingedblues vocabulary for electric guitar, one which revolutionizedthe way a generation of players approached both the genre

4

and the instrument. An apparent reaction to Walker’s urbanitycame from the likes of Lightnin’ Hopkins, who experiencedsurprising success with spare and rough-hewn ‘downhome’blues at a time when a West Coast -bred sophistication domi-nated black popular music. Hopkins and fellow Texans Lil SonJackson, Smokey Hogg, and Frankie Lee Sims led a countryblues revival which rallied in the late 1940s and early 1950s,when their recordings often made the rhythm & blues charts.By the mid-1950s the audience for Texas downhome blueshad been usurped by the tougher band sound of Muddy Wa-ters, while Walker’s pervasive influence was absorbed into earlyrock ‘n roll via Chuck Berry. The rise of the Chess empire fo-cused much of the post-War blues business in Chicago andthe dominance of Mississippi migrants in the Windy City un-derscores our stereotype of blues as Mississippian at root.Perhaps it is, but the influential strides made by Jefferson inthe Twenties and Walker in the Forties are unexcelled in thehistory of blues guitar. And the Texas blues guitar traditiondidn’t dead-end with T-Bone; it continues to deliver such rus-tic anachronisms as Henry Qualls as well as sundry youngStevie Ray wannabes, disciples of a man who cut his teethabsorbing the lessons of Freddie King. At its best, the Texasblues guitar tradition is, like the state itself, outsize and hardto corral, disarmingly diverse and, despite fits of legendaryLone Star bluster, beguilingly genuine. It is embodied by thefour legendary Texans in this video.

Photo by George Pickow

5

Albert Collins(1932-1993)

“A lot of people ask me what’s the difference betweenChicago blues and Texas blues. We didn’t have harp players

and slide guitar players out of Texas, so most of the bluesguitars had a horn section. ...The bigger the band is,

the better they like it in Texas.”Albert Collins, interviewed by Jas Obrecht, Guitar Player, July 1993

To illustrate Collins’ point, this video opens with a blazingexample of ‘the master of the Telecaster’ in the company ofthe full fleet of his Icebreakers performing on Austin City Lim-its in 1991. Collins had been a presence on the Texas bluesscene since the early 1950s, but it was only after moving toLos Angeles in the late 1960s that he began to be appreciatedbeyond the Southern ‘chitlin circuit.’ His 1978 Alligator labeldebut, Ice Pickin’, kicked his career into high gear and led tointernational tours, a Disney film cameo (Adventures inBabysitting), an appearance with Bruce Willis in a Seagram’swine cooler television commercial , even a gig at a 1989 Inau-gural gala for George Bush. The critically-acclaimed 1985 Alli-gator album Showdown! earned Collins a Grammy for his play-ing with fellow Houstonian guitarslinger Johnny Copeland anda young man at whose high school prom he had once per-formed, Robert Cray. But perhaps the accolade which meantthe most to Collins was the observance of Albert Collins Dayin 1986 as part of Houston’s Juneteenth Festival. He playedon his day before 50,000 of his old neighbors.

Collins came to Houston when he was nine. Born in a logcabin on a farm near Leona, Texas, he heard the country bluessounds of his cousin, Lightnin’ Hopkins. “He practically raisedme,” Collins told Larry Birnbaum (“Albert Collins: The IcemanStrummeth,” downbeat July 1984). “I used to just watch himplay, mostly like at family reunions—they called `em associa-tions then. He’d be out on the big grounds they had, sittin’there on a stool and playin’ guitar.”

It was another cousin, Willow Young, who offered Collinshis first real instruction and taught him his unorthodox guitartuning. “He would lay the guitar in his lap and play it with aknife, like you do a steel guitar,” Collins told Birnbaum. Collinscalled Young’s tuning D-minor. In a May 1988 Guitar Playerfeature, Dan Forte detailed Collins’s tuning as follows: “Fromlow to high, F, C, F, Ab, C, F. It’s an F minor triad, or a Dm7b5without the root.”

6

Photo by Tom C

opi

7

John Lee Hooker’s 1949 hit, “Boogie Chillen,” was thefirst tune Collins learned to play. Later he would be influencedby T-Bone Walker and popular Houstonian Clarence‘Gatemouth’ Brown, who convinced Collins to use a capo (orclamp as he called it) to change keys. By 1952 Collins wasfronting an eight-piece band, the Rhythm Rockers, in Galveston.Never sure of himself as a singer, Collins generally left thevocal chores to someone else in his band. In 1954 he went ontour with singer Piney Brown, and a fogged car windowshieldprompted a bass player to tell Collins, “Man, you better turnthe defrost on!” The remark stuck with Collins, who beganassigning ‘chilling’ titles to his instrumentals. 1958’s “Freeze”on the Houston-based Kangaroo label was his wax debut, fol-lowed by “Defrost“(1960, Great Scott) and “Frosty” (1963,Hall). 1961 was the year of Freddie King’s success with “HideAway,” but Collins lacked King’s national label (King/Federal)support, and despite some regional success with “Frosty,” hisinstrumentals didn’t assuage the need to keep day jobs (truckdriving, mixing car paint) to pay the rent. (Collins’ 1963-65recordings appear on Truckin’ With Albert Collins, MCAD-10423.)

His fortunes improved when collector-performer Bob Hiteof Canned Heat sought him out in Houston in 1967 whenCanned Heat was appearing on a bill with Lightnin’ Hopkins.Lightnin’ took Hite to hear Collins at the Ponderosa Loungewhere his act (complete with audience stroll assisted by hun-dred-foot guitar cord) so floored ‘the Bear’ that he urged Collinsto move to California and work the then-burgeoning Fillmorecircuit. Collins did just that, opening shows for the likes ofFleetwood Mac and cutting three albums for Imperial in 1968-69 (reissued on CD as Albert Collins: The Complete ImperialRecordings, EMI CDP-7-96740-2). Signed by B.B. King's pro-ducer Bill Szymczyk to his fledgling Tumbleweed label in 1971,There’s Gotta Be a Change promised to be Collins’ career-making record (it even put a single, “Get Your BusinessStraight,’ into the national rhythm & blues chart). But the sud-den demise of Tumbleweed left Collins without a label, andfor a number of years he worked West Coast clubs from SanDiego to Seattle, often backed by Robert Cray’s band. Whenthe opportunity to record for Alligator arose in 1978, Collinswas employed as a mixer in a paint store. Twenty years after his recording debut, Collins was readyand eager for a break and made the most of it. Had cancer

8

not claimed him in 1993,Collins would no doubtstill be making music aspowerful as that heard inthis video. “That tone,” ex-claimed Joe Ely’s guitaristDavid Grissom in the docu-mentary, Further On Downthe Road. “There’s some-thing about that tone thatjust kills you. I like to thinkof it like a Louisville Slug-ger, a baseball bat. Some-body hitting a home-runand that bat crackin’. WhenAlbert hits the str ings,that’s what it reminds meof.” Robert Cray recalled,“Everyone who knewAlbert would say he had abig heart, a great person-

ality...but when it came to playing the guitar, he had no mercyon anyone—the guitarslinger!” Collins told Alan Govenar (Meet-ing the Blues, Taylor Publishing Co., Dallas, TX.1988) : “I pickwith my thumb and first fingers, almost like playing a bass. Inever did play many chords. I always wanted to be a leadplayer...Blues is my music. It’s kind of hard for some people torelate when you say blues. Some people don’t want to hear it,but it’s reality.”

Phot

o by

Tom

Cop

i

9

Freddie King(1934-1976)

“I used to listen to Freddie King a lot then,and that drive he had in his early days stayed on my mind.”

Albert Collins to Ellen Griffith, Guitar Player, August 1979

The drive that so impressed Collins is amply evident inthis 1972 performance from Sweden. King’s near-disco eraappointments (platform shoes, bell bottoms and a shirt collarthat looks like it could take flight) belie his small town Texasroots. Raised in Gilmer, Texas, King was surrounded by guitarsin his youth. “We always kept two or three guitars around ourhouse in Texas all the time,” King told Mike Leadbitter (“Madi-son Nite Owl,” Blues Unlimited October-November 1974).“They all played—my mother, my uncles...lots of guys playedaround there.” However, Chicago, where King’s maternal grand-mother lived, was where King began playing in earnest. Hisfamily moved there in December 1950, and Freddie soon foundwork in a steel mill. At night, he would sneak into blues clubsand absorb the sounds of the burgeoning Chicago blues scene.“I was playing like Lightnin’ Hopkins and Muddy Waters whenI got to Chicago,” King told Leadbitter, “but Jimmy Rogers andEddie Taylor were different. They really inspired me. I stayedaround them all the time. Every time they look up, I’m com-ing. If I couldn’t catch one, I’d catch the other. They’d say,

Photo by Walt M

. Casey Jr.

10

`Don’t you ever sleep?’” King got his first electric guitar at ageseventeen, and in 1956 he began accompanying harmonicaplayer Earle Payton. In 1958 King quit his job at the steel milland formed his own band, performing at such West Side clubsas the Casbah, the Squeeze Club, and one he immortalized,Mel’s Hideaway Lounge.

King had tried without success to interest Chess in re-cording him. However, pianist/bandleader Sonny Thompsonsigned King to Federal in 1960 and his first session yieldedthree hits, “Have You Ever Loved a Woman,” “See See Baby”and the instrumental “Hide Away.” 1961 was King’s year onthe charts; he had six top 10 R&B hits, a remarkable run for anew artist. He appeared on package tours with the likes ofJimmy Reed and Gladys Knight. “I did fifty of those one-nightertours at $250 a night,” King recalled. In 1963, he moved hisfamily to Dallas.

Even if he never reprised his 1961 chart success, Kingfrequently returned to the Federal-King studios in Cincinnatito record. Between August 1960 and September 1966, Kingrecorded 77 titles for King and Federal, 30 of which were in-strumentals. His friendship with King Curtis led to two late1960s albums for Atlantic’s Cotillion label, but they didn’t of-fer King’s career the push it needed at a time when ‘the counterculture’ was discovering blues. That impetus came via an ap-pearance at 1969’s Texas Pop Festival, where King shared thebill with Led Zeppelin and Ten Years After, among others. “Allof Led Zeppelin’s guys were standing there watching him withtheir mouths open,” recalls King’s longtime manager JackCalmes. The Shelter label, formed jointly by Leon Russell andJoe Cocker’s producer, Denny Cordell, signed King in 1970and offered his career a new lease on life. Getting Ready in-troduced “Going Down,” later covered by Jeff Beck, and King’snew ‘heavy’ blues sound took him from the Texas chitlin andfrat party circuits to the Fillmore and rock arena circuit, open-ing for the likes of Creedence Clearwarer Revival and GrandFunk Railroad.

The debt of England’s blues-based rockers to King waspartly repaid when Eric Clapton’s RSO label signed him in 1974.King made two albums for RSO and appeared at such venuesas London’s Crystal Palace Bowl alongside Clapton. He touredinternationally while continuing to be a legend in Texas, wherea mural of King appeared on the wall of Austin’s legendaryArmadillo World Headquarters. Robust and always immensely

11

entertaining, King seemed primed for something akin to AlbertCollins’ 1980s success. But on Christmas 1976, Freddie Kingplayed his last gig at the New York Ballroom in Dallas. Threedays later the 42-year-old bluesman was dead. A variety offactors, foremost among them acute pancreatitis, led to King’suntimely death.

His legacy is felt in both the music he left and the influ-ence he exerted on younger artists, among them many whiteTexans who first learned about blues by way of King. “Freddiewas my hero,” says contemporary country hit maker Lee RoyParnell, who recalls an occasion when he met King. “I got achance to sit and talk to Freddie King for about twenty min-utes,” says Parnell. “We talked guitar and we talked about theblues and we talked about color. We talked about a lot ofthings. And for him to take the time out to spend with me likethat affected me in a really positive way. I loved Freddie verymuch.”

Photo by Walt M

. Casey Jr.

12

Lightnin’ Hopkins(1912-1982)

“Lightnin’, in his way, is a magnificent figure. He is one ofthe last of his kind, a lonely, bitter man who brings to the blues the

intensity and pain of the hours in the hot sun, scraping at theearth, singing to make the hours pass. The blues will go on, but

the country blues, and the great singers who created from the rawsinging of the work songs and the field cries the richness and

variety of the country blues, will pass with men likethis thin, intense singer from Centerville, Texas.”

Samuel B. Charters, The Country Blues, Rinehart & Co. New York, 1959

In the person of Sam Lightnin’ Hopkins we come to acrossroads. The sudden shift we feel moving from color toblack & white, electric to acoustic, is a contrast emblematic ofentering a world quite different from that inhabited by AlbertCollins and Freddie King. They were country born but earnedtheir musical spurs in major cities, Houston and Chicago. Evenif there were country vestiges in their playing, they were es-sentially urban bandleaders who effectively combined blueswith funk and other post-blues sounds. Hopkins had left thecountry a generation before them but it never really left him.Its cadences and downhome pleasures animated his musiceven as he took it to Houston, and that music was a strongpart of what younger men like Collins and King integratedinto their own expansions of Texas blues.

Lightnin’ Hopkins was born and raised in what he de-scribed as “a little ol’ one horse town,” Centerville, Texas.

Photo by David G

ahr

13

Wanderlust hit him early: “Left there when I was eight yearsold,” he told Les Blank. “I went back when I was 12; leaveagain. Just travelin’. I didn’t get no schoolin’, man. I got myeducation by sittin’ around talkin’ and lookin’ at what this onedo and that one do.” It was an education he would put togood use in his songs.

Hopkins learned the rudiments of guitar from an olderbrother, Joel, and was already playing when he first encoun-tered Blind Lemon Jefferson at age eight. (Traces of Jeffersonoccasionally surface in Hopkins’s music; check one of the ‘runs’he plays in “Bunion Stew.”) . Youthful encounters with Jeffersonand Alger ‘Texas’ Alexander, a blues-singing cousin of Hopkins’,reinforced his resolve to use blues as a ticket out of the in-dentured servitude of his kindred. “It wasn’t nothin’ on theend of that hoe handle for me,” he said flatly. “Chopping cot-ton, plowing that mule for six bits a day. That wasn’t in storefor me.”

Instead there was the adventure of hopping freights andentertaining at weekend dances for black farm hands aroundsuch small towns as Crockett, Brenham, Buffalo and Pales-tine. Hopkins carved out a circuit which took him fromHouston’s Dowling Street to West Dallas and back. His free-dom was mitigated by the risks run by any young black manof the era who didn’t have a ‘boss man’ to vouch for him intime of trouble. In the late 1930s Hopkins served time on aHouston County Prison Farm, an experience which left its markin both ankle scars he would display like war wounds and insuch searing autobiographical songs as “Prison Farm Blues”and “I Work Down On the Chain Gang.”

By the time the opportunity to record came to Hopkins,he was 34 and had settled in Houston, where he hustled tipssinging in bars and on street corners. His teaming with pianistWilson ‘Thunder’ Smith prompted a recording engineer to dubhim ‘Lightnin’.’ His 1946 Aladdin label debut session came asthe urbane ‘club blues’ sound, epitomized by Houston expa-triate Charles Brown, dominated black blues-based music, yetHopkins’ downhome performance of “Katie Mae Blues” provedsurprisingly successful. It was one of the first audible expres-sions of a still vital country blues tradition which became in-creasingly popular on jukeboxes in the late 1940s and early1950s. Hopkins seized the opportunity to record for a plethoraof labels both great (Decca, Mercury) and small (Gold Star,Herald) . But the record company offers had dried up by 1956,

14

and Lightnin’ would have entered the obscurity common tomany bluesmen of his generation had Sam Charters not inter-vened.

Charters, who found Hopkins living in a Houston room-ing house, devoted the closing chapter of his influential 1959book, The Country Blues, to him. He also recorded Hopkinsfor Folkways, and by 1960 Hopkins’s rediscovery had becomeexciting news to folk-blues fans on both coasts. Though reluc-tant to leave Houston, Hopkins toured the West Coast in 1960and ventured to New York City for the first time since a 1951session for the Sittin’ In With label. The New York stint was anunqualified triumph, commencing with an October 14thCarnegie Hall concert in which he appeared on a folk bill fea-turing Pete Seeger and Joan Baez and culminating in his No-vember 15th recording session for Nat Hentoff’s Candid label.During his busy month in New York City the enterprisingHopkins had already cut 36 titles which yielded four Lps forBluesville/Prestige, Fire and Sphere Sound. He also performedat the Village Vanguard and appeared on the television pro-gram, A Pattern of Words and Music. It is this remarkable foot-age of Hopkins at the outset of his rediscovery we see here.

Hopkins would continue to perform and record prolifi-cally for two more decades, a man who effectively presidedover two country blue revivals in his lifetime. The impact ofthis intense artist on the growing folk revival, embodied hereby the presence of a young Joan Baez, is fully tangible in this1960 performance from Hopkins’s eventful month in New YorkCity. His was a ‘comeback’ he neither planned nor anticipated,but one for which he had spent a lifetime preparing.

15

Photo by David G

ahr

16

Mance Lipscomb(1895-1976)

“Now when I get to playin’ I go out of the bounds of reasonbecause when I start, I don’t like to stop. As long as it look like

they payin’ attention to me, I can play all night for them.”Mance Lipscomb, interviewed by Glen Myers

Lipscomb played countless Saturday nights from sunsetto sunup Sunday at country dances around Navasota, Texas.Unlike Hopkins, entertaining wasn’t Lipscomb’s livelihood; hewas a tenant farmer most of his life who took pride in hismusic but regarded it as a release, a social bond with his com-munity and a means to a few extra dollars. He wouldn’t ‘turnprofessional’ until he was 65! The songs Lipscomb performs here in a set recorded at theUniversity of Washington in 1968 show the range of influencesavailable to a man who lived his entire life in a farming com-munity in Southeast Texas. “Captain, Captain” is essentially aworksong learned from an ex-convict who did some work forLipscomb’s mother, an echo of the sounds which inspired theearliest blues. The later influence of recordings in evidencedby “Night Time Is the Right Time,” recorded by Big Bill Broonzyin 1938. Mance remembered encountering Blind WillieJohnson, a much-traveled `guitar evangelist,’ on Navasota

Photo by George Pickow

17

streets around the time of World War I. His arrangement ofJohnson's “God Moves On the Water” closely follows the origi-nal 1929 recording but he may have heard various versions ofthe song from other sources, for Lipscomb’s reference to JohnJacob Astor IV, who perished in the 1912 Titanic sinking, doesn’tappear in Johnson’s recording. “Which Way Do the Red RiverRun” is surely as old as any blues in Texas and a song Lipscomblearned from oral tradition.

Lipscomb was known as a songster, a moniker often ap-plied to the older generation of singer-guitarists who wererepositories of both blues and the sounds blues replaced. Brit-ish blues scholar Paul Oliver described Lipscomb as “one ofthe last great exponents of the Southern Negro folk song forms,before the blues and the mass media which popularized itswept them aside.” Lipscomb’s bucolic life of farming andweekend music-making in Navasota was interrupted in 1960when blues enthusiast Chris Strachwitz and Texas folkloristMack McCormick discovered and recorded him. Lipscomb wasthe first artist on the Arhoolie label, and in later years he playednumerous folk festivals, clubs and coffee houses, appearanceswhich earned this dignified agrarian fans ranging from coun-try singer-songwriters (Guy Clark) to ex-Presidents (LyndonJohnson attended Lipscomb’s 1972 appearance at the KerrvilleFolk Festival).

With Lipscomb we close this video with sounds from thevery source of the Texas blues guitar tradition, having first ex-perienced two fiery urban bluesmen and their city-toughenedcountry mentor. The musical evolution represented in this hourtook the better part of a century to occur, and there are thosewho will tell you it could only have happened in Texas. It’s astate of vast cultural riches and Lone Star loyalists may sug-gest it has something to do with strong bloodlines. ManceLipscomb told Jim Crockett (Guitar Player, March 1974) asmuch: “My daddy was a fiddler,” he said, “and I heard musicall the time. Like, it’s in my blood. And blood is your life, right?You can learn music easy if it’s in your blood.”

– Mark Humphrey

For help with background material, thanks toMary Katherine Aldin.

The Lone Star State boastsmany cultural riches, and itsgifts to the blues tradition areamong its most exemplary trea-sures. The range of Texas bluesguitar styles, both rural and ur-ban, is captured in this collec-tion of fourteen performancesby four legendary Texas blues-men. Blazing 1991 per for-mances by the great AlbertCollins generate a heat whichbelies his Iceman moniker.

Freddie King cooks at full boil in a1972 set which includes his signa-ture song Going Down. Rare 1960footage of Lightnin' Hopkins showshow intense the downhome acous-tic Texas blues could be. A 1968 per-formance by Mance Lipscombtraces the blues tradition to its worksong taproot with Captain, Captain.Alternately stark and celebratory,the Texas blues of these perfor-mances comprise a legacy as expan-sive as the Lone Star State's legend-ary vistas.

Ma

nce

Lip

scom

bFr

edd

ie K

ing

Albert Collins (1991)Iceman • Lights Are On But Nobody's Home • Head Rag

Freddie King (1972)Big Leg Woman • Blues Band Shuffle • Going Down

Lightnin' Hopkins (1960)Baby, Come Go Home With Me

Going Down Slow • Bunion Stew • Let's Pull A PartyMance Lipscomb (1968)

Captain, Captain • Night Time Is The Right Time • God MovesOn The Water • Which Way Do The Red River Run

Running Time: 60 minutes • B/W and ColorFront photo of Albert Collins by Paul Natkin/Photo Reserve Inc.

Back Photos: Freddie King by Gary Jones; Mance Lipscomb by Bill Records

ISBN: 1-57940-974-1

0 1 1 6 7 1 30419 9

Vestapol 13041Nationally distributed by Rounder Records,One Camp Street, Cambridge, MA 02140

Representation to Music Stores byMel Bay Publications

© 2003 Vestapol ProductionsA division of

Stefan Grossman's Guitar Workshop Inc.