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+++U++++++Laura: Copy-edit complete. 5/15/95. Becky. WHO: The Stan Lassiter Group WHERE: ManhattanÕs WHEN: Monday, May 29, 9:30 p.m. HOW MUCH: $5 by Chris Barrett ThereÕs a yin-yang reward to listening in on shop talk around an instrument store. The traditional guitar yarn typically involves some stellar player, heard during some once-in-a-lifetime setting. ÒÉso then B.B. King yells from the back of the bus that itÕs okay for us to come in. He powered up and played a little ÔStraight, No ChaserÕ to show me how he bends Lucille around his stomach for tremolo. Killer. Shoulda seen it.Ó That most guitar salesmen are also teachers and displaced performers, and can reproduce their anecdotes musically, is no consolation. You missed something amazing that will never happen again. Thanks. Thanks a lot. If you happen by Rob PayneÕs Music Center, on Kingston Pike, anytime soon and run into Rob himself, youÕre likely to encounter an exception to the above rule. If you demonstrate any interest at all in virtuoso guitar playing, RobÕs probably going to advise you to haul your eyes and ears down to ManhattanÕs on Memorial Day evening. The Stan Lassiter GroupÑthat nightÕs entertainmentÑis like few others. Stan Lassiter, guitarist and bandleader, plays like no other guitar player. And the opportunity to see such a band, in a room where the ÒworstÓ seat is less than 100 feet from the stage, is all too rare. ÒItÕs very personal,Ó says Lassiter, explaining why he prefers the intimacy of small clubs such as ManhattanÕs. ÒIÕve heard some major groups in some major places. The soundÕs bopping around so much that IÕm seeing somebody and hearing somebody, but theyÕre not connected. ÒIn a small room, itÕs more clear. People can actually feel the air from the instruments as itÕs coming through the first time. That ambiance works like a soundboard, like a big guitar.Ó LassiterÕs music needs a big guitar. His style has minute elements in common with players youÕre familiar with: a little Steve Vai here and there, a Segovia run once in a while, the poetic dysfunction of Sam Rivers now and again. He plugs in with a composition, almost always his own, in mind. But beyond that frail foundation, anything could happen. While many improvisers sound as if theyÕre climbing stairs, listening to themselves and trying to decide, Òwhere to next?Ó, Lassiter jumps without a Õchute. HeÕs at the mercy of creative winds, and simply makes the most of whatever direction they blow. ÒThere are some great artists and some great formulas,Ó says Lassiter. ÒFormulas are like safe havens. But if you start every day fresh, like ÔIÕve never played this guitar before,Õ thereÕs something like truth-seeking to that. It doesnÕt matter if itÕs good or bad, you just try to get out of the way.Ó LassiterÕs been playing for some 30-odd years. He says that around Õ85, he realized he could imitate any player and any style heÕd heard. At that point he decided to free himself of all external influences. When Hendrix or McLaughlin came to mind, heÕd stop playing, because he knew it would affect the music. That kind of profound concentration leads to some bizarre music. The relationship between Lassiter and his instrument is technically dizzying (both here and in his hometown of Nashville, LassiterÕs shows attract scores of note-taking, chop-hunting players). He plays with such energetic abandon and is so intensely focused, though, that when he hits something solid, the sparks he sends flying are all the more dazzling. With a unique instrumental voice and a somewhat Eastern philosophical approach to success, Lassiter is an anomaly in Nashville. Rather than throwing up his arms, disgusted with the mediocrity that abounds there, though, heÕs happy for the camouflage. Nobody stumbles into the rooms he plays just looking for noise to down beers to. With all of the mainstream country and pop alternatives there, everyone in his audience has sought him out. He plays incredibly fast, creating a dense wash of sounds. Utilizing innovative pick-up combinations, Lassiter can play his acoustic classically, then overdrive its signal to a manic Derek Bailey intensity. Imagine William Blake with a Guild Dreadnought and a Marshall stackÑa little bit of heaven and hell in every run. ÒI feel like weÕre all going to be sitting around a campfire after this existence is over, telling our stories, you know?Ó he explains. ÒIf you were to say, ÔI was afraid. I did this and went with the status quo,Õ nobody will want to hear that. But if you say, ÔI went for it! I did this, and I had my head cut off for it,Õ everybodyÕs going to go ÔYeah!ÕÓ uof the attack on New YorkÕs World Trade Center, all major acts of terrorism on U.S. soil in recent memory have been committed by AmericansÑfrom the radical students of the Weather Underground to the Unabom bomber. Why was it so dif
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