Duane Allman & Dickey Betts, "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed," from The Allman Brothers Band's At Fillmore East (Capricorn Records, 1971): It was already a stellar cut on 1970's Idlewild South, but this onstage version has more depth. It's spacious and dreamlike (underpinned by Gregg Allman's organ playing) and full of the guitar harmonies, volleys, delicacies and climaxes the axe masters Allman and Betts will always be known for.
Jeff "Skunk" Baxter, "Hot Stuff," from Donna Summer's Bad Girls (Casablanca, 1979): A phenomenal set of ideas from Baxter--on a record which aired non-stop on the radio seemingly for months in 1979--who appears to play the guitar break in more than one key. The overall effect is striking, with a kind of method later used by Joe Walsh on Don Henley's "Dirty Laundry" and Jimmy Page on the Firm's "Radioactive."
Chuck Berry, "Rockin' at the Philharmonic," from Berry's One Dozen Berrys (Chess, 1958): Herein is a groove that Berry specialized in, but this jazzy instrumental has its own flavor that words can't describe. Joyous like so many Chuck Berry diamonds.
Eric Clapton, "Crossroads," from Cream's Wheels of Fire (Atco, 1968): It's perhaps the most acclaimed guitar solo of the 1960s and has earned every bit of its rep. How Clapton's fine singing on the Robert Johnson chestnut didn't distract from his highly focused series of solos is beyond me. The last chorus is particularly explosive, with Clapton alternating between grinding bits and high notes and trills that seem to leap out of his guitar. Overall, it's devastating--my fave Clapton until the Derek & the Dominos' masterpiece double album Layla.
Ry Cooder, "Lipstick Sunset," from John Hiatt's Bring the Family (A&M, 1987): Cooder plays slide guitar so empathetically on one of Hiatt's greatest moments and rides a reflective, bittersweet slow groove for everything it's worth.
Nick Drake, "Fruit Tree," from Drake's Five Leaves Left (Island, 1969): It pains me that I couldn't find room for a Nick Drake record on my Ultimate Albums feature elsewhere on this site; there was just too much competition from 1969-1972, the years in which his three LPs were issued. Yet those are topflight albums and "Fruit Tree" demonstrates his dexterous playing and haunting singing; his songwriting, too, has left a huge impression on me.
Cornell Dupree, "Rainy Night In Georgia," from Brook Benton Today (Cotillion, 1970): Dupree's elegant guitar work plays right into the wise, almost downhearted elegance of Benton's vocal. This brilliant record hasn't aged a whit.
Mimi Fox, "Day Tripper," from Fox's This Bird Still Flies (Origin, 2019): Getting through a long spell with cancer, Fox returned with one of her best sets. Here, her classically-styled original riffs work in tandem with the famous John Lennon guitar figure to bring a fresh dimension to that simple yet effective sound.
Amos Garrett, "Midnight at the Oasis," from Maria Muldaur (Reprise, 1973--and 1974 single): A silly, unintentionally racist song from Maria Muldaur's debut solo album that was partially balanced by her ear-opening interpretations of Dolly Parton, the McGarrigle Sisters and Blue Lu Barker. Garrett's guitar solo on "Oasis," full of jazzy runs and moody "smudgings," still sounds like his crowning achievement. He has worked with Geoff Muldaur (Maria's ex), Doug Sahm, Gene Taylor and many others (see the Bonnie Raitt entry).
Pat Hare, "I'm Gonna Murder My Baby," recorded in 1954 and on the various artists anthology Blue Flames: A Sun Blues Collection (Rhino, 1990): Hare was among the first to use over-modulated, distorted guitar amplification, working behind Howlin' Wolf and others at Memphis' Sun Studio--he later joined Muddy Waters' band. This angry recording presages the alcoholic binges that consumed Hare in 1963, where he had tragically taken the song's sentiment too seriously: Hare shot his wife to death and then fatally shot the officer who came to investigate.
Buddy Holly, "Listen to Me," from Buddy Holly (Coral, 1958): Rolling rhythms from Buddy's Crickets drummer Jerry Allison hold down the structure for Buddy to create an atmosphere of shimmering chords and lovely melodic phrases--one of his most touching tracks.
James Honeyman-Scott, "Kid," from Pretenders (Sire, 1980): An astonishing mixture of punk noise and jangly, melodic phrases, the first Pretenders album is neatly summed up in this James Honeyman-Scott excursion, full of twists and turns and the type of tuneful frothiness that would lend itself to R.E.M.'s debut three years later.
Paul Kossoff, "All Right Now," from Free's Fire and Water (A&M, 1970): Perhaps my most favorite guitar solo ever because of the manner in which Kossoff gradually builds it, but make sure you're playing the 5:33 album version and not the 4:14 hit single I bought when I was 15 (I recall a high school field trip--perhaps to a dairy farm--when said record was getting lots of airplay). Kossoff starts with the sort of folk-rock riff played by Michael Bloomfield on "Like a Rolling Stone" and then moves to an intensifying bit of repetition before letting loose with dramatic high notes that truly sing.
John Lennon & George Harrison, "Long Tall Sally," from The Beatles' Second Album (Capitol, 1964): It wasn't until I recently watched a video by Ably House via YouTube that I realized both Lennon and Harrison take a solo on this track. Ably House vids feature the hands and arms--no faces--of four musicians playing replicas of the Beatles' guitars and drums in a perfect primer of what the Fabs were doing instrumentally on each tune recreated. Both guitar breaks are good (John with his typically aggressive chording and George playing octaves to start) while the track itself is scintillating; having played the song hundreds of times onstage, the Beatles' 1964 version of Little Richard's naughty rocker was cut in one take.
Nils Lofgren, "Youngstown," from Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band's Live In New York City (Columbia, 2001): The piece was originally arranged acoustic style on Springsteen's 1995 The Ghost of Tom Joad album, depicting steel workers cast aside by changing manufacturing strategies (or rather, a lack of them). Lofgren unleashes the electric fury of this dark emotion in an extraordinary display; it's a performance the song was begging for.
Mary Osborne, "How High the Moon," from Osborne's A Girl and Her Guitar (Warwick, 1960): Osborne (1921-1992) should be much better known. She emotes delightfully, especially during the interchange with pianist Tommy Flanagan while drummer Jo Jones sustains one of his many kinetic grooves. I get my kicks on this kind of effortless, flowing musicianship.
Bonnie Raitt, "Give It Up or Let Me Go," from Give It Up (Warner Brothers, 1972): Raitt plays stinging bottleneck here on a track that also includes a New Orleans-style horn section with Amos Garrett rockin' the trombone, of all things. You've got to dig her rage: "You come home drunk and nasty/won't tell me where you've been/just when things are nice and sweet/you're going back out again!"
Marv Tarplin, "I Second That Emotion," from Smokey Robinson & the Miracles' 1967 Tamla single): Tarplin co-wrote the tune with Smokey Robinson (whose pun in the title was not lost on Elvis Costello) and brings several elements to it: A direct and yet attention grabbing intro, some smart and appropriate fills throughout, and a continuous funky rhythm that the Motown artists put across Top 40 AM radio so memorably.
Richard Thompson, "Tear Stained Letter," from Watching the Dark: A History of Richard Thompson (Rykodisc, 1993): Dazzling runs and tones from the co-founder of Fairport Convention that winds up in breathtaking fashion after tradeoffs with other band members. It's from a 1991 live gig, fully realized following the already first rate studio version on Thompson's second solo release, 1983's Hand of Kindness.
Robin Trower, "Daydream," from Trower's Twice Removed from Yesterday (Chrysalis, 1973): There's a path from Jimi Hendrix's "One Rainy Wish" to this highlight from the former Procol Harum guitarist's solo debut: An unforgettable guitar intro and eventually some tough chording, sustained notes of beauty and an ethereal dose of perfection. And that feeling would move from here to Stevie Ray Vaughan's lovely "Lenny" in the 1980s.
Hilton Valentine, "I'm Crying," from the Animals' On Tour (MGM, 1965): Hilton Valentine (1943-2021) rarely took a solo with the Animals--why should he, since keyboardist Alan Price was the musician who blew rock fans away? It's twangy, tangy and persistent in all the right ways, complimenting Eric Burdon's great shouting.