By Juan C. Ayllon
If you are familiar with Larry Carlton, you know that he was a legendary sessions man that rose through the ranks in the 1960s and exploded onto the albums of chart toppers like Steely Dan, Joni Mitchell, Quincy Jones, Michael Jackson and many others in the 70s and 80s before going onto a stellar solo career. Most often, this winner of Grammy Awards and The Guitar Player Lifetime Achievement Award (2008) is known for his precision, silky smooth, emotional and lyrical style. (Gress) His sublime live album, Last Nite, takes me back to the 1980s, when I lived in Southern California and frequented this packed, dingy bar in North Hollywood to listen to top-flight studio musicians in their side bands, like acclaimed sessions electric guitarist Steve Lukather of Toto fame playing with Los Lobotomys, saxophonist Brandon Fields who joined Lukather or played with his own trio; there was bassists Abraham Laboriel (of the Crusaders and who plays on Last Nite) and John Pena, percussionist Alex Acuna, as well as lesser lights like Don Randy and Quest. These trips, which took 90 minutes or more to drive were special and, to this day, I remember the route there: take I-10 West to the 101 North to the Lankershim exit, turn left under the highway, take another immediate left on Cahuenga Blvd. and look for it on the right just across from Universal Studios.
I never did see Larry Carlton there, but I saw others, like an inebriated Eddie Van Halen, circa 1987, when he came out to listen to Lukather, whose influence on a Van Halen album that followed were unmistakable.
It’s 1987. A meticulous Brandon Fields voices, “Test, test” into a mic, works some scales on his alto sax and tweaks knobs on the mixing board and after we cheer a raucous opening tune, Lukather sidles up to the mixer and dials up the settings. A lit cigarette protruding from his guitar’s headstock, Lukather shreds mind numbing rocking riffs, the crowd roars and, on cue, he drops back into a slow, masterful ballad. The band -- which, tonight, is Lukather, Fields, John Pena on bass, and Alex Acuna on drums -- is so tight! Climaxing at his turn, a bobbing Fields is an oversized drinking bird, like the ones I saw as a kid with their glass thermometer bodies at gas stations. A side glancing Fields turning them down minutes later and they resume. Later, Fields slinks into the leather seats in his black Volvo out back during intermission to decompress. A few feet away, Eddie Van Halen interrupts me while chatting with Lukather. “Hey buddy, would you take my glass back to the bar?” “Um, no,” I say. I'm no busboy. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he slurs, but repeats the question a minute later. I recall laughter with friends, buzzing off the mixture of extraordinary musicansmanship and a few beers while waiting for the second set to begin. “Where’s Joe?” Lukather calls out, referring to acclaimed jazz artist, Joe Sample. Locating him in the crowd, he opens up a paperback and quotes lewd passages to laughter. The second set begins. I am back in school studying art fulltime, my friend, Scott, a cop who nightlights as a guitarist in the northwest suburbs of Chicago is visiting and Zareh, a former classmate from Cal Poly Pomona, a ladies man and a junior administrator at Kaiser Permanente Riverside has driven us to hear the magic in his white, four door beater. I remember Scott and I chatting with the Baked Potato’s late proprietor, Sheldon Slussman, and buying T-shirts and baseball caps with their logo. He was a kind man. We asked him when Larry Carlton was going to be playing there. He had no idea, as I recall, but he told us a story about Larry, who’d recently been shot in the throat by an intruder. Carlton’s wife at the time, Michelle Pillar, doted on Larry and helped nurse him back to health. “They’re nice people,” Mr. Slussman shared. That was 30 years ago. We have gone different directions since then, but the love of music remains. Single then, I’m now married with grown step children and teaching full-time, write on audio and do the occasional oil painting in Chicagoland. Living several towns over, Scott is also married with a full brood, does occasional gigs, has retired from the force is working for another police department. I hardly see him these days. And last I heard, Zareh was making over $350,000 as a head admin at some hospital in Southern California. I never did see saw Larry Carlton at The Baked Potato playing raw and hard, not the smooth jazz that he’s better known for. Scott and my brother, Luis, witnessed him performing in a similar venue and, like Lukather with a protruding cigarette at the end of his guitar, they said he was incredible. Listening to Carlton's album, Last Nite, an outstanding recording featuring Terry Trotter on keyboards, Abraham Laboriel on bass, John Robinson on drums and Alex Acuna on percussion, I can only imagine. And recall my wondrous visits to the Baked Potato. Source: Gress, Jess. “10 Things You Gotta Do to Play Like Larry Carlton.” Guitar Player, 1 September 2009. New Boy Media LLC. Web. 23 January 2018.
1 Comment
Scott Warren
1/28/2018 02:42:32 am
JCA, I don't know what I'm more impressed by, your writing or your memory!! I can't believe it's been 30 years since we shared this experience together. This took me right back to that wonderful night like it just happened. So glad we have this awesome shared memory. Cheers brother.. -SW.
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Juan C. AyllonA writer, artist, educator and owner of Prairie Audio Man Cave, he lives with his wife, Isabel (AKA Belle), and their Goldendoodle, Liam, enjoys listening to high fidelity music and all things hi-fi at their home in the greater Chicagoland area.. Archives
March 2024
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