Yesterday was windy and rainy: a perfect day for listening to the blues, so my CD player was occupied by a disc a colleague gave me for Christmas last year. It rounded up the usual suspects - Robert Johnson, Wolf, Son House, Muddy, B.B. - but a little more than halfway through the disc are songs featuring my three favorite guitarists: Jimi Hendrix
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-- Keith Richards, who has written arguably the most recognizable guitar riffs in rock and roll (who can't grind through "(Can't Get No) Satisfaction" in their heads, for instance).
-- Jimmy Page, whose wrote some hard-driving riffs of his own. (What teenage guy has not gone transcendental during the guitar solo to "Satirway to Heaven" at the end of the high school dance?)
-- Peter Buck, who keeps it simple because he actually hates solos. (But his blazing solo on "She Just Wants to Be" during a concert in Cleveland a couple years back essentially saved R.E.M.s album "Reveal" for me. I had long-ago written it off, despite the fact that they've been my favorite band for nearly two decades, but after the show I revisted the album in a whole new and appreciative light.)
-- Rob Baker of the Tragically Hip, virtually unknown in the U.S. despite being (or maybe because of being) Canada's biggest rock band. His solos in "Grace, Too" just move suck me up every single time.
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