// AP: TENESSENTIAL - Punk-Rock Guitar Solos

Punk-Rock Guitar Solos

Rob Ortenzi on 8/26/08 @ 3:37 PM

Selected by Ed Masley.

It may have come on like a kick in the nuts to the smug, self-indulgent guitar-hero rock of the day, but punk was never truly anti-solo. Anti-social, sure. But anti-solo? Hell, even Johnny Ramone played a few in his day. And while nine out of 10 rock enthusiasts taking a hit off their bong to yet another run through Dark Side Of The Moon may have laughed it off with, "Dudes can't even play their instruments," that was rarely the case. It's just that punks were less inclined to let their solos drag on for a whole side of an album.

THE STOOGES “1969” (from The Stooges) (ELEKTRA,1969)

From the opening track of the album that started it all, Ron Asheton works his wah-wah like a toy he thinks could go away at any minute. He’s playing as much with his foot as his fingers, frantically working the pedal while sustaining one bent note before slowing it down to punctuate the melody, his fuzzed-out tone as fat as anything this side of Hendrix in his prime. He’s still soloing a full two minutes later when producer John Cale pulls the fader down, by which point Iggy shouldn’t have to remind you what year it is.
NEW YORK DOLLS “Vietnamese Baby” (from New York Dolls) (MERCURY,1973)

One of punk’s most influential figures, Johnny Thunders was the first of many early punk guitarists whose approach was, for the most part, just a sloppy (if inspired) variation on Chuck Berry’s greatest licks. The fact that Thunders did it first is half the reason “Vietnamese Baby” edged out all those classic, post-Berry solos by the Sex Pistols’ Steve Jones. But the sound is almost as cool as what Thunders is playing, from the reverb-drenched slides in the intro to the cavernous solo itself.
RICHARD HELL & THE VOIDOIDS “Love Comes In Spurts” (from Blank Generation) (SIRE,1977)

Robert Quine’s approach to punk guitar owed more to jazz than old Chuck Berry licks, and rarely did that come across more clearly or more brilliantly than his playing on “Love Comes In Spurts,” from an opening lick that could pass for an ambulance speeding by the studio to a solo that frequently sounds like he’s trying to launch a sneak attack on his own guitar. Like love itself, the solo comes in spurts at first, the perfect match to Hell’s exposed-nerve yelping.
THE CLASH “Complete Control” (from The Clash) (EPIC,1977)

No guitarist embodied the spirit of ’77 quite like Mick Jones of the Clash, a man responsible for any number of the most inspired solos of the British punk invasion. Even at his most sophisticated, claiming reggae for the punk side on the Junior Murvin hit “Police & Thieves,” his lines are razor-sharp. But this is Jones’ most electrifying moment in the Clash’s first year as the only band that mattered-easily the scrappiest Chuck Berry reinvention any band had laid to tape since the Kinks’ early singles. Halfway through, Joe Strummer gleefully exclaims, “You’re my guitar hero!” Who else was there?
X “Johny Hit And Run Paulene” (from Los Angeles) (SLASH,1980)

Billy Zoom had been playing in rockabilly bands for years by the time he placed the ad that led to X’s birth. Having seen the Ramones, he stood convinced that punk was really just a louder, faster variation on what artists like Gene Vincent had done in the ’50s. That’s certainly how Zoom approached it on Los Angeles. He plays Chuck Berry more like Carl Wilson of the Beach Boys than his punk-rock brethren-cleaner, more precise and flashier but somehow still in keeping with the spirit of the times.
HÜSKER DÜ “Girl Who Lives On Heaven Hill” (from New Day Rising) (SST,1985)

By the time they followed Zen Arcade with New Day Rising, Hüsker Dü had long since left their hardcore roots behind. But they were still attacking damn near every song with the reckless abandon of youth, filtering their most sophisticated moments through a giant wall of fuzz. This is punk as Neil Young would’ve done it (and, in fact, he kind of ripped it off on “Rockin’ In The Free World”), especially when Bob Mould squeezes out those last few drops of raw emotion in the solo.
FASTBACKS “Seven Days” (from ...And His Orchestra) (POP LLAMA,1987)

Kurt Bloch could outplay half the wankiest guitarists heavy metal ever knew-there are times on any given Fastbacks record where he does just that. But Bloch’s a punk at heart, which allows you to wonder if maybe he’s kidding while you drop your jaw to the floor in amazement at his more outrageous moments-like that whammy bar he throws at the end of the riff he clearly borrowed from “Barracuda” by Heart or that part in the solo that sounds like something Spinal Tap would play while leprechauns were dancing.
NIRVANA “Radio Friendly Unit Shifter” (from In Utero) (DGC,1994)

Its title clearly mocking the success of Nevermind, this song made the most of Nirvana’s decision to bring in Steve Albini to produce. While other tracks may have a better shot at getting out the punk vote, this is Kurt Cobain, guitarist, at his edgiest. He’s bathed in echo for the intro, bending his strings in what sounds like a cavern. Then there’s the solo, which at first is more like noise manipulation-feedback, scraping strings, more echo-heavy bends. When he really starts playing, it’s as out-there as Cobain would ever get.
TED LEO/PHARMACISTS “Bleeding Powers” (from Shake The Sheets) (LOOKOUT!,2004)

By far the most literate leftist in modern-day punk, Ted Leo approaches the state of the world with a Strummer-esque sense of conviction. But as anyone who’s seen him tear it up onstage can tell you, he’s also a truly amazing guitarist. That comes through loud and clear on “Bleeding Powers,” where “you still see people waiting for the next excuse for war.” He starts the solo with an almost Dick Dale-worthy tremolo guitar riff, then builds through some spiraling leads to a long, sustaining bend and lets that note dissolve until there’s nothing left but feedback.
SLEATER-KINNEY “What’s Mine Is Yours” (from The Woods) (SUB POP,2005)

In the days of Dig Me Out, the riot grrls of Sleater-Kinney were about as likely as Johnny Ramone to hit you with a solo. But that all fell by the wayside on The Woods, the trio’s final album. Carrie Brownstein’s inner Hendrix-which until this album, no one had a reason to believe existed-is everywhere, especially the breakdown in “What’s Mine Is Yours,” which has nothing to do with the rest of the song. It starts out all fat and distorted, which is great, then starts going backward, which is even better.