The Endeavour of Allan Holdsworth
The Promise of Emancipation through Music in 1960´s Middle England
Perhaps I should start at the beginning: as a teenager, I was a Holdsworthian, just as musicians in the 19th century might have been Wagnerians. The parallel seems far-fetched. Didn't Wagner compose complex orchestral music and write long operas? And isn't Holdsworth's music, on the other hand, an endless succession of complicated fusion solos – often with dubious 80s keyboard sounds? At least that's how my mother saw it when, completely exasperated, told her son immersed in world-weariness: ‘I can't listen to this anymore. Always this Huuuuuldswuuuulds…please TURN IT DOWN!’
Let's be honest: the Wagner comparison is nonsense, of course. I wanted to express my exuberance, and it fit the bill. Still I see a strong influence of late 19th century to early 20th century composition techniques in Allan’s music and I am not the only one in this regard. The master himself repeatedly pointed out the huge emotional impact that Debussy's music in particular had on him. In order to see this, I believe that one must penetrate this veil of temporality, which is expressed through the idiomatic proximity to jazz and the power of rock and shows a kinship to neoliberal competition, with 80´s top musicians appearing like sports athletes with sponsorship contracts and pink sweatbands. Then you reach a deeper layer, which of course also has a temporal formation.
Then you begin to see Allan Holdsworth as perhaps the latest representative of impressionism and late romanticism, someone who, long after the end of bourgeois society, set out to explore this path once again using his own unique resources – the tools and media of the mass society that had long since emerged. And in relation to composers like Chopin, Ravel, Debussy, Bartok, Elgar, Hindemith, Holst or Sibelius this refers to a great longing to break through the everyday world with the help of extremely rare talent and a strong will to be stubborn. In the early to mid 19th century, this was the dawn of modernity, bourgeois society with all its civilisational impositions (factories, new transport technologies, new hierarchies, the loss of tradition, which was romantically idealised). In Holdsworth's time, this was the British provinces, into which the businessman and industrial spy John Lombe brought the first mill-driven textile machines and thus factories based on original designs from northern Italy centuries before. It was sort of modern progress in reverse, England at the dawn of Thatcher. What the musicians have in common, however, is their interest in overcoming functional harmony and thus transporting listeners into new, more ethereal spheres. And, of course, Holdsworth was a composer-performer whose virtuosity was comparable to only a few individuals in the history of music, certainly Art Tatum and Franz Liszt, as analyzed by James Rosenberg.
After the Second World War, the United Kingdom lost its centuries-long status as a world power to the USA and underwent continuous deindustrialisation. Everywhere, there were young men in particular who were increasingly without prospects (In fact, the emergence of house music occured under comparable social circumstances in Detroit some 40 years later). While the rich sons in London did what they had always done: engaging in privileged pursuits – in the 17th century, that was science, unless you were the first, second or third son, now it was mostly art, the avant-garde or a new thing called rock and pop: The predominantly male members of The Who, The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Queen or individuals like Brian Eno often came from privileged backgrounds and many studied at prestigious elite universities or art schools. The situation was much more difficult for young men from more proletarian backgrounds far away from the cosmopolitan city - as well as a young artist coming from a privileged background but being female and Japanese, like Yoko Ono.
it was precisely the most creative contributions to music in the second half of the 20th century that did not originally come from London (but then mostly moved there). First and foremost, there were the Beatles from Liverpool. I think it was Lemmy who pointed out that the Beatles looked like mama's boys and the Rolling Stones like rough guys, but that in reality it was the opposite. Exactly: Mick Jagger graduated at the prestigious London School of Economics with top marks, while John & Paul were highly talented young men with a love of fighting (the introverted George not so) and rock ´n´ roll who, thanks to a supportive social-democratic school, were given the opportunity to develop their talents. And before 1979 England also had a pronounced liberal culture (often the prefix “neo-” or “post” may mean regression). Especially with the BBC radio programs and an open system of musical education. Of course, in the English working-class towns, completely independent, uncompromising forms of music also emerged in the wake of deindustrialisation. These include heavy metal with Black Sabbath – guitarist Tony Iommi was still working on the assembly line at the beginning and some of his fingers were crushed by a press – and later even harder bands such as Napalm Death, but also the uncompromising and still somehow melancholic electronic music of Richard D. James or Squarepusher in the Southern province.
But I'm interested in a certain form of lived diversity in U.K.´s music. It starts with the Beatles becoming really interesting when they went into the studio in 1967 and experimented with the 5th Beatle, George Martin, a trained arranger of baroque music. Of course they also were influenced by psychedelic drugs and non-western music outside of soul and blues - as well as Stockhausen. As we all know all of this can be seen on the cover of “Sgt. Peppers”. Followed by supergroup 1.0 Cream, in which a superbly played electric guitar came together with a superb drummer and a superb bassist - all in the context of superb song-writing, superb singing and not so superb personal interaction. Or the band Lifetime, in which Black American Music music wasn't simply imitated in a romantic retrospective through the blues schools of John Mayall or Alexis Korner, but where the band actually sought exchange with leading and open-minded representatives from the (still pretty racist) US. Or rather, it was the other way around: Tony Williams, who actually wanted to go into the studio with Paul McCartney, Jimi Hendrix and Miles Davis, found the right collaborators for his revolutionary music in Scotsman Jack Bruce and Yorkshireman John McLaughlin.
Allan Holdsworth was also born in Bradford, Yorkshire, on 6 August 1946. He grew up with his grandparents whom he lovingly called his parents. Holdsworth did not attend any prestigious, higher schools. Instead, he was faced with the choice of working in bikeshops, workshops or making music, which in the first place was never considered to be a serious profession. His grandfather, a hobby pianist, was the decisive figure here, introducing him to classical music and jazz at a very early age. When you listen to Igginbottom's Wrench, Holdsworth's first recording, it all comes together. The four musicians scraped by with various jobs in a region, which was always dominated by textile production. As Top 40 musicians, they could still earn some money. But there was a utopia, and that was to make your own music. You can't appreciate that enough, because it was an important moment of musical innovation. The Beatles were certainly a big role model, if not the role model. Because they had made it without losing their humour and their stubbornness. The four musicians on the cover of Igginbottom's Wrench also position themselves like the Beatles on the blue album.
But not in a modern high-rise building, but in a working-class neighbourhood. Starting a band back then must have been like starting a start-up today: it promised self-fulfilment and a better life if you were disciplined and gave free rein to your creativity (not to forget: Steve Jobs biggest inspiration were the Beatles, he even stole their trademark). Maybe you made it to London, got a record deal. Maybe you became world-famous - by touring the United States.
What is striking about Igginbottom's Wrench can be studied even better on Holdsworth's solo debut I.O.U. from 1982. The third track, ‘Checking Out,’ begins with a riff that is – perhaps unconsciously – inspired by Herbie Hancock's ‘Maiden Voyage’ (on which Tony Williams also drummed before founding jazz rock).
Soon, vocals begin that, in their complexity, could not have been sung by any of the Beatles, but certainly by Jack Bruce. But then guitar arrangements bring a complexity into play that George Martin could have arranged in this form. Or perhaps not, because in the end he would have stuck to the usual techniques of composition. Holdsworth, however, like Coltrane or Slonimsky, had long since permuted all the tonal material like a Kabbalist. With a mixture of iron will and exceptional talent, he used his own instrument and overdubs to create a tonal world reminiscent of advanced late Romantic classical music in transition to Neue Musik: This is clearly protoserialist Scriabin territory. Holdsworth no longer needed to rely on an expert, unlike the Beatles, who could hardly get beyond basic guitar chord progressions. Through hard work, he had made himself an electric musicians with the skills of a classical composer. A powerful process of artistic emancipation.
Of course, what was still missing to realise this music was a drummer who could bring all these disparate elements together. Since Tony Williams’ Lifetime, Cream and Hendrix's Experience, drummers had always been the bottleneck in so called jazz-rock or progressive music. As John McLaughlin used to say, ‘The drummer is the band.’ They had to master both the traditions of jazz with respect to the improvisational interplay as well as rock with respect to the power needed. Frank Zappa described this very nicely in his autobiography, saying that in the 1980s there were only a handful of musicians who could do this. It's no surprise that Zappa recommended his best drummers to Holdsworth when he moved to California (we come to that later): Chad Wackerman and, above all, Vinnie Colaiuta, who is also mentioned in Zappa's biography as primus inter pares in this context.
The third member of Holdsworth's drumming portfolio, however, is the first and most decisive, namely Gary Husband, who once again combined all the above-mentioned elements in his person: coming from a family of artists in Leeds, he was actually on his way to becoming a concert pianist. In a moment of youthful liberation, however, he emancipated himself from the totalitarian regime of 19th-century classical drill – he studied with one of Britain's most respected classical pianists, whose students went on to become national figureheads – and pursued a career as a drummer. In the 1980s, few people outside a jazzrock elite knew that Husband also played the piano and keyboard, but this has since become his USP: playing two instruments at world-class level. His role model, however, was Tony Williams of Lifetime, who had just revolutionised music with Jack Bruce and John McLaughlin. Together with Paul Charmichael – probably the only bassist who did NOT imitate Jaco Pastorius at this time – and singer Paul Williams, Holdsworth made his own ‘start-up’ a reality with the help of funding from Richard Branson/Virgin and thus founded his own form of progressive music. But yes, that was of course after Allan himself had already played for years in the elite of this music, with Soft Machine, Gong, Bill Bruford, U.K. and Lifetime (in a very questionable reissue after the uncompromising revolutions of 1969-1971). The band's name reflects Holdsworth's special sense of humour: I.O.U. stands for ‘I owe you’ - the band had to pay the pubowner in order to be able to play - and expresses the truth that is still a reality for many start-ups today: most of them don't make it. And I.O.U. would also have gone under: they played in empty pubs and got hardly any attention according to the interviews available. Holdsworth had one last chance, and he took it: there were many more fans for this particular kind of music in the US where he gained a foothold in the early 1980s after a successful tour with IOU organized by Mike Varney – unfortunately without Husband, but the two soulmates always found their way back to each other. This brings us back to the Beatles influence, at least I recognize so strongly in Allan’s but also in Steve Topping’s and Gary Husband’s music. A few years ago Gary made one of his drumming video tutorials and dedicated it to the music of Allan Holdsworth. Here, he rearranged the guitar parts of the legacy IOU songs using his nord lead synthesizer (which also features mellotrone type sounds). And suddenly I recognized this George Martinish footprints in the voice-leading and general approach of the music:
With the support of musicians such as Frank Zappa (little is known about the extent of his support, but there is much to suggest that it must have been immense) and Eddie van Halen, he built up a small network and his own studio to realise his own music in California.
In the process, he repeatedly came into conflict with established management structures from major labels. But nothing could deter him from realising his own longing for a completely unique form of expression. And he came from a relatively humble background, having worked his way up from the bottom, which certainly only reinforced his resentment towards established structures that did not tolerate stubbornness.
Even though Allan Holdsworth is always portrayed as a guitarist who was constantly dissatisfied with himself, a sort of chronically depressed musician who was a kind of alien on the guitar, this image helps to hide an important fact. There is much more to suggest that Holdsworth was simply successful in the end in realising his own music, even against strong resistance. This meant self-confidence, a strong sense of individualism and, to a certain extent, maybe a slight distortion of reality, which was, however, repeatedly ignored (a good catalyst for art for sure). And music here means more than just playing the guitar fantastically. It means composing, exploring new material, finding new means of expression, building a network of outstanding musicians, learning studio techniques, building suitable instruments and much more. In the end, Holdsworth was something of a small business, headquartered in Vista, California, that manufactured highly integrated, world-class specialized recording products (and even had a small beer vacuum-pump production business to diversify its portfolio).
As is so often the case, one of the most important pillars of this business must have been his family. When problems occurred here, the “company” effectively collapsed. And in the 17 years that followed, there was still touring, but no new studio album - which in my opinion was at the heart of the endeavour. Holdsworth passed away on April 15th 2017, shortly after all his albums – from I.O.U. to Flattire – were reissued under a very dubious name: ‘The Man Who Changed Guitar Forever’. Here, everything Allan had fought so hard for was sold once again under conditions he had not agreed to in this form. From a social psychological perspective, this could certainly be described as very traumatic. Once again, the guitar was in the foreground. And that was exactly what it wasn't about. You have to go back to the late sixties, recognise the creative field between the Beatles, Blue Note and impressionist music, which Holdsworth recognised as a means of expression. And he followed this path uncompromisingly.
But why the comparison to late romantic or impressionist composers? I hear an almost mystical longing in Holdsworth's music, a desire to recognise the emancipatory potential, maybe even beauty of the industrialised world while at the same time romantically striving for something beyond it or something that transcends it. On the one hand, there is the utopia of a just world in the context of technological advancement. This is expressed in the album ‘Wardenclyffe Tower’, dedicated to scientist Nikola Tesla (also a very headstrong, controversial visionary, both brilliant and eccentric). This alludes to Tesla's headstrong and ultimately failed project to realise a global energy supply beyond oil and gas by tapping into the “ether” – a project that still has its biggest fans among esoteric crackpots. Oil and gas also mean the English Midlands, soot, broken lungs, decades of proletarian life. This contrasts with the vision of a clean future. Something of this was already apparent when you rode the Shinkansen in the seemingly perfect Japan of the 1980s – Holdsworth's biggest fans are still Japanese, and in Shibuya's largest record store, Holdsworth's records are presented at a sort of shrine next to almost endless recordings of German and Austrian composers. But you get an even better idea of this idealised, otherworldly vision when you immerse yourself in the perfect world of Star Trek. And that was Holdsworth more than anything else: a Trekkie. Nowhere is this clearer than on the cover of his album “Atavachron”. Here you see Holdsworth as a child discovering late Romantic music and bebop on his grandfather's record player. Next to him is Holdsworth with the perhaps nerdiest instrument of the 1980s: the Synthaxe, developed by British inventor Bill Aitken using components from aerospace technology. As a Trekkie. It is ultimately difficult to say which of the two characters is less grown-up. Little Allan is precocious and listens to music that usually only adults listen to, while big Allan dreams of being freed from financial worries, aesthetic heteronomy and the historical shortcomings of the guitar in another galaxy.
There was no more science fiction to be found somewhere in fusion – perhaps only in the world of the Chick Corea Elektric Band. And this almost childlike longing for a world free of civilisational tensions, free of war and pollution, this world is just as much a utopia as Beethoven’s ideas of enlightment, Wagner’s idea of overcoming the alienation of civilisation or Hanns Eisler’s socialism. But what distinguishes those musicians is a special genius for penetrating the musical material and, above all, for finding new forms of realising music that also convey this utopian striving emotionally to the listener. This happens especially when the advanced modal material reminiscent of composers such as Kenny Wheeler, Ralph Towner or Wayne Shorter is pushed to the brink of atonality by the soloist – here, a kind of envelope of late Romanticism and Expressionism, rediscovered decades later from the perspective of industrially manufactured electric instruments, which, before Holdsworth, had already been pushed through by the composers mentioned at the beginning, but above all by Wagner (Tristan), Scriabin (Sonatas 7-10) and Messiaen (Catalogue d'oiseaux): The paradigmatic example would be the guitar solo of “4.15 Bradford Executive”.
I, for one, have lost myself in this music for years. If I ever had to list drug use on a questionnaire, I would have to write ‘The Music of Allan Holdsworth.’
I am writing this essay because I felt these feelings very intensely again when I listened to the new album “Changes” by Steve Hunt and Tim Miller. This album is a bit like the V.S.O.P. - Miles´s second quintet without Miles - of Holdsworth's former bandmates. Guitarist Tim Miller is one of the very few guitarists in the world who can improvise freely, very fast and with a distorted tone over complex chord progressions like those advanced modal ones of Holdsworth. Here he does so over a perfectly produced backing that could have come from an earlier 90´s Holdsworth album (the band rarely played together in 1992; instead, ADATs were sent out and the tracks were recorded in a staggered overdub process): Steve Hunt, Jimmy Johnson, Chad Wackerman, Gary Husband and Evan Marien all played with Holdsworth for many years. And yet in my opinion the album is derivative or epigonal – and here comes the V.S.O.P. comparison into play. Tim Miller comes across like Hubbard, or better still Marsalis, copying the style of Miles Davis 15 years too late.
Well, maybe that's a problem with all great art. There are very few true innovators. You can still try to get somehow close to the language of the greats. But of course, it's never the same. I wonder what Holdsworth's former bandmates think. Would they recognise this album as a legitimate successor?
I myself have made two - also somehow derivative or epigonal - albums that deal directly with Holdsworth´s influence. ‘Landgrafen’ is dedicated to the maestro and made after his passing, which struck me hard. Solo IV attempts to capture some of the transcendence I always felt when listening to Holdsworth.
Furthermore, I also explored the modal language of Allan´s music from the perspective of 7 string nylon solo guitar and in relation to the compositions of Kenny Wheeler and Wayne Shorter (track 4-6):
But I think all these words and links are ultimately peripheral. Because the best justification for what I have tried to put here is Gary Husband's solo piano album, in which he interprets Holdsworth's music.
I sincerely hope not to offend anyone from the Holdsworth family or his old musical colleagues. To take up the Wagner metaphor again from the beginning: I really was a sort of lunatic fanboy, Allan's music was something of a religion to me for many years. I'm sure I'm in the top 50 of people who have listened to Allan's music the most. So it was only a matter of time before I wrote this essay. Maybe now is a good time, because I've gained a little more distance from a musician who I consider to be one of the most important guitarists of all time and one of the most important English musicians of the past century.
By distance, I also mean that I only understood Holdsworth's credo of searching within oneself for one's own music at a late stage. I then discovered music in myself that sounded completely different from Allan's. For me, this is one of the most important experiences I have had as a great admirer of the late great Allan Holdsworth.
Translated with DeepL.com (free version)
Wonderful essay! Probably the best text I've read paying tribute to Holdsworth! This perspective that combines a sociological analysis of the class social context with the dependencies on the development of technological means of production, against which the individual journey (not just artistic) of the protagonist is outlined, who, as befits a romantic, stubbornly tries to realize his vision despite all adversities, is very original. The same was true in the case of your other essay "The Technological-Cultural Basis of Human Movement and its Unconscious Superstructure in Music".
By comparing Holdsworth to Wagner, you believe there is no possibility of further development of the musical language he created? Has he exhausted all the potential possibilities inherent in fusion music?
Holdsworth - composer: what do you think of the music on the album "Flat Tire'"?