Walter Trout: A Profile of the Blues Guitarist

It's a hot sultry night in southern New England and the truck has just pulled onto the cobble stone alley beside the old mill. The stagnated air that has been baking inside the brick building all day is unmoved despite three large fans spinning overhead. Equipment is pushed, pulled, and dragged up three flights of narrow winding stairs before being tugged across the oil soaked wide plank floor and hauled up on the slightly raised stage at the epicenter of the room. Carefully arranged church pews fan out from this point barely filling half of the cavern. This is the pulpit from which Walter Trout will deliver his sermon in the universal language of Fender.

Six years later and the setting is the same only tonight the sound system is new, the stage is left of center, and after all the pushing, pulling, dragging and hauling the keyboard player is crestfallen to discover, too late for his prized Hammond B-3, that there is now an elevator. The traveling church of Walter Trout has again found it's way to Fall River Massachusetts and deemed the local flock worthy of a sermon from the high priest of guitar guile. With a reverence for the purity of art at it's most basic he takes the stage and with one wailing chord invokes a passion Billy Graham would envy. For certain there is nothing like it in Heaven and won't be until he gets there to show them how it's done. One man, one guitar, one amp, and one thought; that there is new sound to be found in an old instrument.

With reading glasses slipping down his sweat drenched face Walter shares his inspiration, " I decided at fifteen to make my art with a guitar and an amp and push the envelope and see what I could get." What he's got is awe inspiring to say the least. Without the aid of foot pedals, a whammy bar, or amplifier effects Walter Trout shapes, molds, and bends sound until you're not sure it's even a guitar in his hands.

With the recent release of The Outsider Walter finds himself touring in support of another album containing a song rife with the heavyhearted sentiment of being away from home. Been Gone Too Long is about life on the road and the understanding that 180 shows a year means more than that many days away. Walter is the first to admit, "It seems there's one of these kinds of songs on every album and the critics always say, 'there's another album by Walter Trout with another song about being on the road.' Well let them be on the road for 180 shows a year and see if they don't feel like writing a song about being on the road."

Walter is a family man at heart and it is plaintively obvious in the instrumental he performs, "I wanted to use the guitar to express the profound love I feel for my wife and kids." Ironically the melody has haunting overtones of Jeff Healey's version of While My Guitar Gently Weeps. While touring with John Mayalls Blues Breakers Walter found himself in the same venues as Healey, "It killed us in the 80's to have to follow a 17 year old every night. I got to work with him in the studio on Full Circle and we recorded Working Overtime." As the first note resonated over us the disciples went wild paying a fitting rock-n-roll tribute to a fallen profit.

Six years ago he arrived like Santa with his guitar in a pack on his back. He unzipped the bag and instead of pulling out the shiniest, newest, knobbiest piece of equipment Fender had to offer he took out the same guitar you see on every album cover; a simple, stripped, rubbed, worn, and loved Stratocaster. This year that precious instrument was noticeably absent but not without explanation. "I would have brought it but with all the restrictions and requirements to check it when we get on a plane I just leave it home now." As substantiating as it is to see such an incredible instrument with such and gifted man it is not the mojo that links him to his talent. The symphonic portion of the evening was the performance of a classical piece utilizing the only technical equipment available, the volume knob. With sheer skill and talent Walter created a sound belonging to a completely different stringed instrument. It proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that better tools don't make a better artist, "I was trying to be artsy. Artsy fartsy."

Artsy fartsy to Walter Trout included an avid argument between two distinctive voices. The high-pitched feverish staccato of a feminine persuasion pierced the still air and a lower, calmer male persona volleyed back from within the solid guitar body they inhabited. Wide-eyed, mouths agape, the students perched on the edges of the pews in a vain attempt to glean knowledge from the master. Aware of his status as he presided over the arrangement the master imparted one pearl of wisdom in the form of a question as all true masters are like to do; "Do you think Fender would give me and endorsement if they knew I could make a Stratocaster say fuck off?'

With that we segued into the final official performance according to the set list. Of course an encore is no longer something you hope will happen but a foregone conclusion and July 17, 2008 at The Narrows Center For The Arts in Fall River Massachusetts the house lights never came up and Walter Trout never even bothered to leave the stage. He let his flock know he was well aware of his surroundings with reference to local celebrity, "I'm tempted to play that song Buddy Guy recorded. I think it was written by Lizzi Borden: I Just Want To Play My Axe."

I wanted that to be the last word. In fact I still think it is a good ending but there is one more thing you should know about Walter Trout. After playing a straight set and encore he left the stage and took up residence behind the merchandise table where he stayed in the 99 degrees and 99% humidity for well over an hour acknowledging each and every person who had come to see him. He signed everything, asked everyone's name, shook everyone's hand, took pictures and most importantly spoke with each and every person who stood in line to meet him. In my estimation there is no bigger fish in the blues pond than Walter Trout.