There Was No One Greater
Friday is for music. And playlists. Some reflection today on yesterday's sad news. But lots of glorious music, always a great soundtrack for reflection.
Devastating news in, just yesterday. Jeff Beck has died. I messaged a friend straight away. Someone I knew cared as much (or more) about Beck’s music. He replied that he had heard the news, and that, “there was no one greater”.
There was never anyone greater or better than Jeff Beck. His loss is there alongside Jimi Hendrix and Eddie Van Halen. In fact, in some way, Beck was the very bridge between the two. He was constantly innovating.
Across Instagram it was Steve Vai and Jimmy Page and David Gilmour and Sammy Hagar, and many others, declaring Beck the greatest, or their favourite. The drummer Michael Shrieve said he never played with anyone as good as Jeff Beck, couldn’t believe his luck. And Shrieve’s day job for many years was being the drummer in Santana. Golden era Santana.
Patti Smith wrote about him on her Substack newsletter. Everyone that had an encounter with Beck, or listened to him, knew instantly about his greatness.
I wrote my tribute to Beck straight away – it’s there in that link at the top. And so, I’m sorry to have you click on something else, and it’s your choice whether you want to of course, but I won’t repeat what I wrote there. And I’m not trying to mine clicks for my website. It’s simply a case of the timing of it. The sudden, unexpected news of Beck’s passing has lined up with my day to write about music here. But I don’t want to write the same stuff over and over. So I’ll try for new words here.
Yesterday, I sat and listened to some of my favourite Jeff Beck songs. I made playlists which I will share with you here.
And I thought about how that amazing music has been in my life for over 30 years now. How it was always there. And it was the solo albums, the Jeff Beck Group material (featuring Rod Stewart, the Beck, Bogert & Appice supergroup, The Yardbirds, and all of the one-offs and cameos…from the youngest age I knew that Beck was the guitarist on the first two Mick Jagger solo albums (and no one really loves those albums – but I do!) I was always hooked on the Jeff Beck guitar solo on Tina Turner’s song Private Dancer (probably even before I knew it was Beck) because my mum has always been a huge Tina Turner fan. (I would have read the liner notes, me being me, and seen Beck’s name).
Some years later I even got to talk to Jeff Beck about that.
But I also got to talk to Mark Knopfler about it!
Knopfler wrote the song, and all of Dire Straits backed Turner on the track. But the band’s leader was away for a day, so Jeff Beck was called in as super-sub. Knopfler called it “the world’s second ugliest guitar solo” and he didn’t sound like he was joking. I loved that rivalry, that bitterness, that barb. That statement of taste. The idea that Knopfler was so sure he'd have done it better. Two players that used their fingers, rather than a plectrum. Two players with impeccable taste and very different ideas about how to utilise it.
In the earliest days of this newsletter I wrote about Jeff Beck – specifically how the Blow By Blow album was something of a life-changer.
One of the great things about writing (so often) about music is you can write eulogies while the artists are still alive, you can pay tribute to them I mean. Yesterday, felt like such a crushing blow for so many reasons, including the fact that I’d be putting some sort of full-stop on my writing about Jeff Beck. He’s occupied my mind forever, it seems.
And now it’s all going to be in past tense. And I’m not really ready for that.
So I’m going to share the playlists. And sign off pretty much.
But I was thinking, about how my mother drove me across town when I was a teenager to buy me The Beatles “breadbin” boxset (every Beatles album). It was on sale in a music store in Hawke’s Bay, and it was to be my Christmas present. The shop was opening at 8am and we drove over at six o’clock as they had limited stock. When the store opened, two customers swooped in for the bargain, and I missed out. Oh well. A bit of a bummer, but it was not to be. My mum told me to look around the store and chose something else – since we were there – and it would be my Christmas present instead.
I chose Beckology. A 3-album boxset of all Beck’s best. It features things from all the configurations and groups I mentioned above, and his first known group, The Tridents.
I had it on cassette tape. And later CD. I loved that boxset. I loaned it out to several people, several times. It was a total talisman. Even when I owned very album that Beck released, and many of the ones featuring cameo performances where he just played on one track, I still defaulted, most often, to Beckology.
It tells me that at one point, and then at several points since, Jeff Beck was second only in my life to The Beatles.
Yesterday, several people messaged me. Telling me they were sorry for my loss. That’s amazing. I never met Jeff Beck. I never even saw him play live. I did get to speak to him. I wrote about him often. And thought about him and listened to his music all the time. He was in that very true definition, a hero. One of my all-time heroes.
I’ve barely ever picked up a guitar, and certainly never played one on purpose. But I found Jeff Beck’s music inspirational. I was in awe of his talent.
But my loss is no more significant than anyone’s. Because his music is there forever – for so many of us to know about and revisit. And for even more to potentially hear for a first time and fall under its spell. That’s the true power of making great music. It lasts. It is there. And it is there for equal amounts of appreciation. No one is better or more knowing. Some people express more passion for something. But that doesn’t mean they deserve a better position in the queue or have some deeper right. The connection is felt more deeply, but someone else can find that sort of connection and make their own version of a bond. There is no one greater at listening than anyone else. It’s about what you choose to do, who you choose to listen to. And sometimes the music finds you at the right time. In fact, I’m sure it always does. I couldn’t believe my luck that I found Jeff Beck’s music when I did. And it’s stayed with me ever since. I’ll never lose it.
Just this week I have decided my favourite musical act of all-time (for right now) is Popol Vuh. They pretty mush ceased to exist before I’d even heard them; had only just heard of them. And that was over 20 years ago. So, I have no claim to being a huge fan in terms of runs on the board, but just this week that music that’s always been there has hit me. And long may it last. Or maybe it won’t.
But it’s been a balm. And when I wasn’t listening to Jeff Beck yesterday, I was listening to Popol Vuh.
I don’t know if I’m making the sense that I’m hoping to. But that’s also okay.
Yesterday, I made a playlist of Jeff Beck’s most emotional playing. It's the ballads, some covers, the tunes that showcase his guitar playing as lead voice and lead instrument. It’s beautiful stuff.
I also made a playlist of his cameos and appearances on songs by other artists. Here he is playing on a song that Brian May of Queen wrote for him. Here he is on a Stevie Wonder song, or with Stanley Clarke. You know some of these songs already, and maybe in some cases you didn’t know Jeff Beck was on the recording. So even if you think you’ve never really heard him, you probably have.
And back in 2021 when I wrote about Jeff for the first time here on Substack I had made this playlist of favourites. So, I’m adding that here as a standalone (again). That’s three Beck playlists. Which might be two too many. And there’ll be some double ups. But I wanted to give you some options.
I’ve also made Vol. 99 of our regular weekly playlist, A Little Something For The Weekend…Sounds Good!
R.I.P. Jeff
There was no one greater.
