Year: 2025

A Conversation Between an Enthusiast and a Seasoned Journalist Covering Maestros from Slash to Tom Morello

DeAndre Nelson has spent decades in the music journalism industry, covering iconic individuals of the past and breakthrough bands through the years, as a seasoned writer for LA Weekly, KROQ, and LA Music Reviews, Nelson’s passion for all things music has made him a legend in Los Angeles’ music journalism scene.  

Growing up in the Midwest, music was always a core interest that influenced who I was and what I became. So, it’s always exciting when I rack the brains of someone like DeAndre. 

Over the weekend, the veteran writer and analyst took the time to sit down. We had deep conversations, especially focused on black guitarists who did not get their fair share of the limelight. 

Here’s a quick excerpt (word for word) of some of the icons we discussed, along with his perspective on influential Black guitar virtuosos of the past and present. 

I want your input on some of the iconic black guitarists of the day. Classic performers like my man from Thin Lizzy, who led the way since the ’60s?  

Oh, man! The Ace with the Bass! We could spend the entire afternoon talking about Phil Lynott, man. “Johnny The Fox,” “Black Reputation,” all of his albums were gold, in my opinion.

The last time I spoke to Saul (Slash), he said “Live and Dangerous” had the best live sounds from Thin Lizzy. And I have to agree.

But the man was a pioneer, to say the least, being a black musician in the ’60s and 70s in a white-dominated industry and market.

You mean Slash (Saul Hudson) from Guns N Roses, right? Funny how most people don’t think of him as being black, but they’re sure that an artist like Lenny Kravitz is black. They’re actually both biracial and were born and raised in LA. 

Yeah, that’s true. I understand the misconception, too. I think Slash’s iconic look, with the sunglasses and the curly hair covering half his face, throws people off. Most fans will likely be unaware of his background and upbringing. 

I last witnessed Lenny’s performance live during an Aerosmith tour when he opened for the band. He brought down the roof with his stage presence. He and Slash have the appearance that can pass in any company. However, the recognition is certainly more prevalent among the white crowd. 

Is Lenny Kravitz a real “guitarist” like Slash?

Of course! But his style is more versatile and soulful than the face-melting solos you’d expect from a traditional rock guitarist like Slash. 

He likes incorporating a bluesy feel, and that vibrato is always at work. You start enjoying it as a memorable melody rather than a full-fledged solo.

Let’s talk about another pioneer – Eddie Hazel. The man was iconic, but much of the attention during his time was directed at artists like George Clinton. Would you count him as an influential black guitarist?

For sure! His “Maggot Brain” solo remains one of the most epic and iconic guitar breaks ever. The man put his heart and soul into that 10-minute riff, which still holds ground today. 

After his death, he received accolades from Rolling Stone and the prestigious Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. However, it would have been great to see him receive the recognition while he was still here. 

Is it a recurring pattern? The year that Prince died, we were bombarded with news items about how he was an addict despite his success. It was the same thing with Michael Jackson. There was a barrage of pedophile accusations against him after his passing. 

Sometimes it feels like our heroes always get the short end of the stick. But the truth comes around, eventually. 

You’re someone who saw Prince up close and personal constantly. I believe you attended an exclusive gathering. Was it a special club or concert?

No. We were at this private home in Bel Air, LA. They got together, jamming and playing till the late hours. The place was dubbed “The 3121 House.” 

Was it his touring band or a makeshift band?

He put together an unbelievable group. The band had members we had never seen before. To be honest, we never saw the same lineup again after that. 

He brought some whacky characters into the mix. There was this guy they called the “Jimi Hendrix of Harmonica.” The moment we heard them play, we all understood why that nickname stuck. 

The band was a patchwork of dazzling professionals creating musical gold together. We gathered in the cellar and watched them go crazy. Coincidentally, Prince released some new numbers that same day. It was a project he was working on with Bria Valente. He invited us over for an exclusive press meeting. 

They performed amazing covers of “Let’s Go” by The Cars and “Frankenstein” by Edgar Winter. It felt out of this world. I swear, everyone present there had a field day. 

You know, I shouldn’t even have been there. A senior journalist who was supposed to go backed out and sent me instead. To this day, I thank this colleague who made it happen for me. 

I understand the house did not belong to him. Did it belong to some other celebrity?

Yes, the place belonged to an athlete. At the time, he was an NBA rookie who later became an all-star. 

Prince had only rented the place from this guy. However, he transformed the place into his personal playground. There was a dance floor, a fancy new heart-shaped bed, a makeup and hair station, and more. A ton of renovation and installations went into this transformation. 

I heard that the original owner wanted to file a suit against Prince. 

That’s what I heard, too. But I also heard Prince willingly shelled out more than enough money for reparations and restoration. 

Yes, definitely. The guy was initially upset, and you can’t blame him, either. But he was also a fan. He just wanted his place converted back to its original state before Prince took over. 

With stories like these, people often build a huge mountain over a tiny hill. The shock and drama of Prince wrecking a rented place makes a better story. But in reality, he compensated the athlete more than required. 

That was a significant aspect of who Prince was as a person. The giving back, the help, the charities, and the giveaways were all part of his person. No doubt, he was one of the kindest people around. But you didn’t see that on stage. You saw the persona and the performer. 

It’s sad because philanthropy was a natural part of his being. However, he didn’t go out there trying to publicize his good deeds or seek the press. It was just the music. 

Did you attend his final show?

Yes. The last full-fledged concert he performed was at the Hollywood Palladium. That was his final stand-alone show in LA.  

I’d been engaged as an Uber driver at the time. And I picked up a few passengers from the airport who I knew. They had an extra ticket to the show and offered it to me. I refused at first because I had seen his playlist the previous night. And this was the second night. But after I discovered the set list for that final night, I couldn’t miss it for the world, man. 

Mainstream fans had to attend these big, sold-out Prince concerts to hear him play his hits live. Otherwise, they would resort to experimental sounds and obscure songs whenever they performed at smaller venues and in front of limited crowds. 

Of course, I didn’t know that would be his last show in LA. So, I initially turned down the ticket. But man, I’m glad I eventually took up the offer. I saw a four-hour marathon of the great man at his very best. It’s the most memorable Prince concert I’ve ever seen, and that too by a long shot! 

I heard he played all the hits and favorites.

Yeah, the whole nine yards. We even got to see presentations of his old classics. And some amazing renditions of more recent hits. It was surreal. 

Looking back today, the atmosphere was different. He could tell that this show was his last in the great city of LA. There was something in his voice (DeAndre wipes a tear away). He truly gave it his all. 

Man, I believe you. Plus, you’ve seen countless live performances and concerts over the years. 

Yes, I have. But this one was different. Of course, we weren’t aware of its finality at the time. But it was special. 

So, would you rank this Prince concert up there with the best you’ve seen?

Yeah, man. I’ve seen other big, sprawling shows he’s performed when he was younger. I’ve also seen the Purple One up close during those sessions at the rented mansion in Bel Air. 

None of it compares to this final show at the Palladium. 

We got everything from him. It was like two or three shows put together into one giant concert. The list was comprehensive, the stage presence was electrifying, and the whole thing was spectacular. It was truly a one-off and easily the best Prince concert I’ve ever seen. 

That’s awesome, man. Let’s move on to another Kickstarter getting some attention thanks to the Beastie Boys documentary – Dr Know. 

Yeah. Gary Miller, another trailblazer, was among the first African American guitarists in the punk rock movement of the 1970s. 

Are they as exhilarating in live shows as they sound on recordings?

Yeah, when I saw them during the 80s, they were fast. I think it was in 

Detroit. 

At that time, bands like Bad Brains and Fishbone were on the scene. These punk groups wanted to prove that they could play as hard and fast as mainstream rock bands at the time. 

I feel Bad Brains with Dr Know was more intense and heavier. Most other punk groups from that era sounded like they catered only to kids. 

Bad Brains was on a different level, for sure. They played some complicated stuff that kids today wouldn’t recognize as punk. 

They had some intricate, jazzy sounds. But the beauty was that they blended these nuanced sounds into fast-paced punk sounds, unlike any other band. They were gifted musicians, the whole lot. 

As a kid, I heard bands like Living Color first before I got exposed to Bad Brains. At the time, Living Color was also known for pushing beyond the traditional sounds of metal and drawing new grooves and rhythms out of existing styles. That’s what made them so special. When Bad Brains emerged, they adopted the same approach. Pushing the boundaries of pop metal and creating new harmonies with edge and attitude. 

I won’t throw shade at The Ramones. They were forerunners of the punk genre, for sure. But Bad Brains took matters to a different dimension altogether. Now, the Ramones were all white. So, it was quite an accomplishment for a black band like Bad Brains to make it at that level and shake a leg with the best in the business. 

And the architects like Chuck Berry and Little Richard before them. These dudes risked their lives to pursue their musical careers. It was a time when anybody from the crowd could simply pull a gun and pop a cap on you right there on the stage. 

I find Little Richard’s career even more surprising in that context. The man was loud in style, appearance, and voice. 

Yeah, and he was gay too. So, a gay, black man in that era wearing those other-worldly clothes, the eyeliners, and the flashy attitude would’ve been quite the sight. 

It doesn’t get more punk than that!

Let’s talk about Duran Duran and Nile Rodgers.

Duran Duran put on a terrible show during the Live Aid concert. Simon le Bon couldn’t hit that final note when they did “A View to a Kill,” the band almost fell apart in the following months. 

It was amazing for Nile to take the remaining members and reinvent the entire band. Fender gave him a dedicated series of Hitmaker Stratocasters, cementing his iconic position as a guitarist. However, this phase of the band also revealed his caliber as a producer and leader. 

So, when black folks discuss illustrious black guitarists, we often overlook their role as specialist musicians because our understanding of traditional guitar solos is restricted to white bands like AC/DC.

Yes, exactly. These black musicians we’re talking about should get the same recognition that legends like Keith Richards enjoy. Black guitarists consistently deliver the same high-quality riffs and solos. But they are more jazzy and melodic than a 3-minute shredding solo like traditional rock bands. 

Young folks seem to be rediscovering Rage Against the Machine. I especially enjoy watching black people create reaction videos on bands like RATM.

Absolutely! I recently encountered one where the dude stumbles on RATM, and the music blows his mind. 

And Tom Morello is a certified maestro in the rock music landscape. He can team up with Zach Wilde, join the Springsteen band, and still deliver. However, people still would not recognize him if he wore a baseball cap and passed you by on the street. 

That’s what separated RATM from a lot of their contemporaries. They represented an idea and weren’t interested in projecting themselves out there. 

With Morello, I find a distinct similarity with Van Halen. Van Halen’s albums always included a song that catered to the guitar players. And Morello did the same thing on RATM. He always added a new or exciting guitar bit to one of the songs that made listeners truly tune in and try to figure out what he was doing.

At the cusp of reaching my teenage years, my grandparents resided just a block away from Franklin in Bronson Canyon. They would ruminate and share their tales of finishing dinner and strolling down Hollywood Boulevard; they would continue their stroll westward toward what is now the TCL Chinese Theatre, formerly Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, where they indulged in window shopping. The notion that Hollywood Boulevard was once an enchanting destination for an evening walk struck me with awe, even at my tender age.

The authentic urban charm, nostalgically recalled by some New Yorkers in Times Square, had already found a formidable counterpart in Hollywood Boulevard. For valid reasons, this iconic image of the street resonated strongly with Los Angeles residents. It persisted through the years, despite the emergence of trendy restaurants and hotels nearby, as they attempted to encapsulate contemporary coolness in their guest rooms and rooftop bars. While Angelenos have returned to Hollywood for various aspects of life and leisure, I was intrigued to discover if the same sentiment extended specifically to Hollywood Boulevard. To unravel this, I initiated my exploration by parking in front of my grandparents’ former residence, where my grandfather once swept away the aftermath of passionate coitus left by those cruising the boulevard.

Strolling down Canyon towards Franklin, I intentionally slowed down, taking in the Craftsman-style homes along the street. Many of these residences outshine their more conventional counterparts, featuring second floors and expansive footprints. Meticulous restoration efforts along this stretch evoke a sense of pride akin to a row of elegant wedding cakes neatly arranged on a table. These homes represent another aspect of old Hollywood, where the past gracefully steps forward, rivaling, if not surpassing, the allure of the present.

Franklin Village exudes a tranquil mid-afternoon atmosphere, almost as if the neighborhood is napping before the anticipated evening activity. A handful of late lunchtime patrons still sit at their tables, their meals’ remnants scattered around them. The waitstaff refrains from clearing the aftermath until the diners have vacated. In the mid-afternoon lull, the local newsstand continues to captivate passersby, attracting eyes from the daily planet.

Entering Hollywood Boulevard at Gower, its distant charm is akin to Las Vegas. The Fonda and Pantages marquees, projecting over the sidewalk, catch the eye. The Fonda’s recent plastic marquee update seems more fitting for a suburban movie theater, while the Pantages remains a neon haven, sharing its radiance with The Frolic Room next door. The absence of grandeur is palpable unless tonight’s performing groups stir your excitement.

The original Pantages marquee, now flanked by an ever-changing digital screen, not only promotes the ongoing show but also advertises various town attractions. This distraction can capture the attention of passing motorists, potentially leading to rear-end collisions with similarly preoccupied drivers. Wandering down the boulevard, Vine emerges as a crucial city crossroads. Travelers from the Valley or downtown exit the freeway, descending a gentle roller-coaster hill into Hollywood. Along the way, the Capitol Records building stands tall.

Between Vine and Highland, Hollywood Boulevard takes seven relatively short blocks. While traversing this section, one cannot help but congratulate Musso and Frank on their resilience and imagine a fresh martini from one of the bartenders there. Alternatively, you might be saddened by the state of the Pacific Theater, with its radio towers still proudly piercing the sky above what appears to be an empty building.

On the same block as Musso and Frank sits Jameson’s Irish Pub, where fatigued tourists sit, gazing out at the sidewalk and the boulevard. Their demeanor suggests a surrender, as they question how they found themselves here. Sipping on a $20 drink, they gaze at a street seemingly devoid of the enchanting fantasies that led them here. To recapture that allure, a movie visit may be the remedy.

Hollywood Boulevard is a must-visit destination for anyone new to Los Angeles, a place you can’t skip. Its reputation for disappointment is now legendary and extensively detailed in every guidebook. Nevertheless, it remains one of the city’s most-traveled pedestrian streets, excluding outdoor malls. The Walk of Fame, with its initial chaotic display of unacknowledged names marred by gum and other unsightly marks, is a compelling reason to visit. I witnessed a young man abruptly braking as he spotted Harrison Ford’s star. He excitedly points his phone, sharing the actor’s name with his waiting friend. They achieve what they came for with the photo—a moment of discovery amongst the numerous dismissed.

Discovering surprises on Hollywood Boulevard proves challenging, with little luck finding the unexpected. Approaching Vine, the identical souvenir shops stand crowded, enticing even resistant visitors into buying T-shirts and shot glasses. As these items are unpacked back home, the wonder at the past allure of the purchases appears.

For the wandering resident, hope remains. At the end of Artisan’s Patio, a passageway off the boulevard, a gem awaits—As the Record Turns. Operating for 34 years, this vinyl record store showcases jazz treasures from Coltrane to Dolphy, as well as a diverse range of music styles. Window shopping thrives, offering hidden delights along the storefronts, from full-size military figures at The Supply Sergeant to Mars-orange and Mercury-blue wigs on aloof model heads on the same block.

Arriving at Hollywood and Highland, the illusion of dressing up fades, marking the opposite end of Hollywood Boulevard. The indoor/outdoor mall features the Dolby Theater and the grand TCL Chinese Theatre, a draw for visitors from Bronson Canyon, particularly those with strollers. Yet, the true marvel is the bamboo art exhibition at Japan House L.A. This anomaly is the day’s highlight—a white-walled art gallery showcasing Japanese artists and crafts. The refined displays evoke perfection, whether in a men’s tie or a cooking utensil. Tanabe Chikuunsai IV’s bamboo artwork steals the spotlight, with tubular shapes freezing in action, spiraling and splashing across the gallery, resembling an alien growth. It’s both breathtaking and stranger than anything on Hollywood Boulevard.

Retreating from the bustling boulevard, I ascend Argyle towards Franklin, hunger unfulfilled, remembering the unassuming pizza joints and desolate chain restaurants I passed. At the corner of a mini-mall, tucked in the shadow of the 101 overpass, lies “For The Win,” a specialist in “smashburgers.” Choosing to forgo the burger, I place an order for a side of fries and a Mexican Coke. Opting for an outdoor table in the parking lot, I divert my attention beyond the commuter traffic, captivated by the golden sunlight on the Hollywood Tower Apartments. A server promptly places a plastic tray before me, presenting the fries and Coke, looking perfectly ordinary. The noteworthy triumph for For The Win lies not in merely matching, but in surpassing McDonald’s in the fry game —a victory for the dreamers. In the future, their story may even become the subject of a cinematic tale.