John Martyn: 1948-2009 R.I.P.

Legendary guitarist and British folk pioneer passes on Jan. 29.

By Fred Mills

"With heavy heart and an unbearable sense of loss we must announce that John died this morning." - www.johnmartyn.com

Heavy heart indeed. Less than a month into 2009, the world lost another guitar giant when avant-folk pioneer John Martyn died last week, on Jan. 29, at the age of 60 (the Stooges' Ron Asheton passed away on Jan. 6). Ironically, his death - the cause of which has not yet been released - came on the heels of Martyn receiving an Order of the British Empire honor in early January. He'd also gotten a lifetime achievement honor last year at the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards, and this past September saw the release of the career-spanning Ain't No Saint box set.

For those unfamiliar with Martyn and his work, he was a fixture on the mid 60s London folk scene and debuted in 1967 with the London Conversation album. He soon became one of the flagship artists on Island Records. His '73 LP Solid Air brought him to international prominence, displaying in equal measures his big-lunged vocals and his unique guitar style, which frequently incorporated a mind-warping Echoplex effect that marked him as much "psychedelic" as "folkie." Many of the usual Island Records (and Fairport Convention and Traffic) studio suspects appeared on his albums - among them, guitarists Richard Thompson, bassists Danny Thompson and Dave Pegg, drummer Dave Mattacks, keyboardists Steve Winwood and Rabbit Bundrick - while over the years he collaborated with numerous other peers and admirers including Eric Clapton, David Gilmour, Phil Collins and Levon Helms. His final studio album was 2004's On the Cobbles featuring guest appearances by Paul Weller, Mavis Staples and the Verve's Nick McCabe.

"Every record I've made - bad, good, or indifferent - is totally autobiographical," Martyn wrote once for his website. "I can look back when I hear a record and recall exactly what was going on. That's how I write. That's the only way I can write ! Some people keep diaries, I make records."

Said Collins, also a close friend, to the BBC, "John's passing is terribly, terribly sad. I had worked with and known him since the late 1970s and he was a great friend. He was uncompromising, which made him infuriating to some people, but he was unique and we'll never see the likes of him again. I loved him dearly and will miss him very much."

Over the years Martyn had had his struggles with drugs and booze, and in 2003 his right leg had to be amputated following a cyst burst, leaving him to perform in a wheelchair. But perform he did up until the very end.

***

To add a personal note, I'll never forget seeing Martyn play twice in 1974 when he opened for Yes on their North American Tales from Topographic Oceans tour. His solo set mostly comprised material from Solid Air and its followup, Inside Out, and the man was in full flight from start to finish, shaking his long, curly locks manically at times as he stomped his foot and mauled his acoustic guitar - this from a guy forced to stare down an audience that was obviously there for the headliners and largely ignorant of who he was.

Not me and my friends, though; we already knew his albums. And when Martyn grinned evilly, triggered his Echoplex, and cocked his head back to emit a massive room-clearing wail, it was as if someone had collectively slapped the audience senseless, such were the looks of shock on the faces of the stunned Yes devotees around us.

Something tells me that Martyn probably got a perverse pleasure out of that. If there's any justice in the world, anybody who saw him on that Yes tour, regardless of whether or not they were Martyn fans, will remember his performances and how utterly unique, how perfectly primal, he was, and for a much longer time than they remember any of the Yes material.

Rest in peace, you gifted sonofabitch, you.

Watch for a tribute to Martyn in the inaugural print edition of BLURT, coming in March.

[Photo Credit: Paul Reid/JohnMartyn.com]