5 Records with Karate’s Geoff Farina

Recently I’ve been digging into Neil Young’s Decade (1977) liner notes: “Heart of Gold put me in the middle of the road. Traveling there soon became a bore, so I headed for the ditch.”

What’s remarkable about these albums is Young’s ability to write autobiographically about his troubled career and personal struggles with almost no trace of self-pity. His most literal complaints (“Went to the radio interview / But I ended up alone at the microphone”) might elicit eyerolls if delivered by anyone else, but somehow Young makes the listener care. Like Bob Dylan and few others, Neil Young elevates the private banalities of his career (“Bruce Berry was a working man / He used to load that Econoline van”) into a vivid public iconography that draws listeners closer. I don’t imagine any of my lyrics will ever be so indelible, but I did namecheck my own crew in a lyric on Make It Fit, and I stole a great line from On The Beach for another.

For folks who don’t pay attention to jazz, Wes Montgomery’s name is usually synonymous with “generic jazz guitar.” He did make several bad records, some ruined by ostentatious strings or ‘60s pop-overproduction. But he made a few great records including this one, and he also changed the way that jazz guitarists play the instrument. Like Mississippi John Hurt, who developed his delicate right-hand style through circumstances that required him to practice while others slept, Wes Montgomery began to brush the strings gently with his thumb to quell angry neighbors, and thus the sound of “generic jazz guitar” was born into a thousand elevators and supermarkets.

But every time I’ve had to play Wes’ music, I’ve learned something. His ode to the instrument, “Four on Six” (that’s four fingers on six strings), has been beaten to death for decades by high-school jazz bands, but Wes’ solo on this original recording is a well of clever melodic ideas. I recently relearned it for a guitar student, and its best lick ended up in the middle of a song on Make It Fit. First person to find it gets a free Fusion!: Wes Montgomery with Strings LP.

I first seeing Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is their masterpiece, but the brooding, minimal 11:11 best captures the stage power of their original lineup.

Most Karate albums have a Come-wannabe song. On our 2004 album Chris Brokaw himself on guitar. On Make It Fit, it’s “Liminal,” and perhaps some younger listeners will hear Chris and Thalia’s influence and work backwards from there.