Pat Martino
Pat Martino
Pat Martino
He is a living legend, a national treasure, and an inspiration to musicians and music lovers of all
stripes.
Pat Martino’s exemplary career spans four decades, and his personal tale of trial and tribulation is
one of the most powerful and miraculous success stories in music history. From his formative
years as a sideman (or “sidekid”) in the rough-and-tumble chitlin circuit and smoky jazz bars to
his inevitable ascendancy in the rarefied circles of the jazz world, Pat has remained true to his
artistic ideals with staggering results. An artist more interested in exploring new musical terrain
than rehashing old formulas, Martino is a true pioneer and a self-styled alchemist of the guitar.
The most obvious and striking aspect of his magic is his seemingly effortless and unflagging ability
Like the magic potions of the legendary alchemist, Martino’s unique conceptions are conjured up
regularly from a bottomless well of ideas. He personifies the five T’s – tone, time, technique,
touch, and taste. But don’t take my word for it, just give any of his discs a spin, or ask any
knowledgeable member of today’s musical cognoscenti. Martino’s fans and admirers are legion and
have included players far outside the genre, like Pete Townshend and the late Jerry Garcia.
Today, Martino is supreme among the jazz voices of his generation. Following years of
accomplishment, he continues crossing and redefining boundaries in his art. He is a true musical
globalist; comfortable with and routinely blending straight jazz, bebop and swing, jazz rock fusion,
blues, ethnic sounds, avant-garde and mathematical music. However, his priorities are
communication and the social impact of his playing, and constantly challenging himself.
We caught up with the master while he was on the heels of completing his newest album, Think
Pat Martino: I was introduced to music by my father. He had an interest in jazz music and was
an amateur guitarist at a rudimentary level. He had a guitar around the house and would sing
My father worked as a tailor in a clothes factory. Both he and my mother worked in what was
referred to as “sweat shops” until they finally opened their own clothing store. Anyway, he used to
sing songs using the guitar as an accompaniment, just strumming chords. These were in the
I was curious. I’ve been told that when I was about three years old I went into my father’s
bedroom to look for his guitar. He kept his guitar under the bed. I started playing around with it
and cut my fingers on it, on the strings. It was the first time I had bled. Apparently, I began
painting the bedroom wall with my blood. That’s how my parents found out that I had been
playing with the guitar. From that point my father kept me away from the instrument completely.
When I was about 11 my father helped a favorite cousin, Joey Azzara, get a guitar. He wanted to
be a guitar player. I was envious and got on a campaign to have my father buy me a guitar. He
bought me a $10 guitar from a pawn shop when I was 12. It was really a little wooden item that
resembled a guitar, a children’s toy. He said, “If you can play something on this, I might get you a
Within six weeks, he took me to Wurlitzer’s music store on Chestnut Street in Philadelphia. It no
longer exists. My father bought me a Gibson Les Paul Standard, the gold painted model. This was
in 1956.
This was a gold top Les Paul with white soap-bar pickups?
That’s right. Within six months we exchanged it for a Les Paul Custom, the black beauty “fretless
wonder. ” When we were first in Wurlitzer’s I saw and wanted that one, but my father said,
That’s it exactly.
Was that Les Paul Custom the one you played in the first phase of your professional
career?
My earliest influences were Johnny Smith and Les Paul. Les Paul came first, because of the name
on the guitar, but not only that. Les Paul and Mary Ford were extremely successful in the media –
radio and 45 RPM records. Les was followed by Johnny Smith, and the awareness of players like
Mundell Lowe, Barry Galbraith, and Jim Hall.
Wes Montgomery was a true influence; the others really represented an awareness and respect for
their facility as professionals. Hank Garland and Joe Pass were also influential. In retrospect I
would have to say it comes down to five major influences: Les Paul, Johnny Smith, Hank Garland,
I hear elements of those players in your style. Were you influenced at all by Kenny
Not really. The only things I picked up from Burrell or Green were personal relationships in
Harlem. As far as their legato, stylistic way of playing, no. I had more interest in a staccato style,
Yes, more than anybody, my greatest influences came from (trumpeter) Donald Byrd, (alto
saxophonist) Gigi Gryce, (trumpeter) Miles Davis, and most of all from (tenor/soprano
Coltrane influenced me to move into a higher level of respect and position in the musical
community, more than the music itself. To this day, the technical side of the instrument is
secondary to other reasons for playing, like social impact and the spiritual delivery of the
performance.
With John I was drawn to how dynamic he was as a person. I was more interested in his social
interaction and leadership than in his craft. With Coltrane and Miles Davis, I was influenced by
their leadership and interaction with sidemen. This affected my experiences as a leader; in regard
to the various sidemen I’ve played with on my different projects and the different musical
The end result was that I learned more about music by studying the people than the craft. I
wanted to be a successful jazz guitarist, but I wanted to be a strong artist like John Coltrane, Miles
Davis, Cannonball Adderley, Sarah Vaughn, or Frank Sinatra. I wanted to be an individual who
stuck out.
I never really got into Charlie Parker. I got into Sonny Stitt because I worked with him. The title
What were some of your earliest professional experiences? Were any of them
particularly pivotal?
Working in [R&B singer] Lloyd Price’s band was pivotal. It was an 18-piece big band which
included the Turrentine brothers – Stanley and Tommy – Slide Hampton, Julian Priester, Charlie
Persip, Red Holloway… there were so many great players in that band. It was the hottest big jazz
band in New York City at the time. We played 40 minutes with Lloyd, but before he came out and
did his show we played for an hour�and we performed. We played arrangements by Slide
Didn’t you once play in a band with Frankie Avalon and Bobby Rydell?
Yes. That was before Lloyd Price. It was all about rock and roll music on the East Coast. We called
ourselves the Hurricanes. The band was primarily designed to target the summer shore market,
like Bill Haley and the Comets. We were putting bands together to play down the shore, the
Could you tell us about the evolution of your style and sound?
First, I began to desire interest from others at a very early age. It goes back to serenading brides
under their window sills in the Italian community of south Philly with my father and an accordion
My need was to be just as important as the bride; here I was playing but everyone was more
interested in the bride. The desire for interest and attention crosses into all other areas of social
That would enable me to stick out, to be noticed and to be of interest on behalf of others.
I learned that certain things would affect the audience. This was early on as a sideman. The things
that were effective and powerful to me in terms of my own conception sometimes did not affect
the people I was playing with. Those things I began to question. I began to keep without question
all the things that would cause someone to turn and look.
Yes, exactly. One of the things was the riff or ostinato figure. This was equivalent to someone
saying, “Look at me! Look at me!” No matter what you were doing you would have to look
because it would become interruptive. There was social control. It came down to a deeper study of
the psychology of social interaction and the effect of music, more so than the study of scales,
modes or theory.
I knew I’d found my sound when I had experienced enough interrupters that always turned heads,
or applause. That’s when I knew I was communicating, and those were the things that created my
identity.
In regard to your sound could you tell us about the succession of instruments you’ve
Well, my Les Paul Custom was stolen in 1965. I was performing with Jack McDuff at The
Showboat, a club that no longer exits. The next day we were due to open in Chicago on the South
Side. Our entire van was stolen between the dates, all the instruments were lost. When I got to
Chicago, Jack McDuff took me to a pawn shop and purchased a cheap guitar. In fact, it was so
cheap I had to use a matchbook to hold the pickup to the body under the strings, otherwise it
would have fallen into the guitar! I used that for one night.
The following day I called home and borrowed some money from the family. I went out in Chicago
and bought a Gibson ES-175. It was like the one pictured on Wes Montgomery’s second album,
The Incredible Jazz Guitar. From that point forward I began to use carved-top hollow-body guitars.
That was quite a transition, from solid bodies to big hollow bodies…
When I began to get serious about archtops and to adjust to the instrument and its physical
Is that the guitar pictured on the cover of your first solo album, 1967′s El Hombre?
That’s exactly what it was. I went through a lot of trouble with the Smith model when I began to
play with louder groups. The problem was the feedback from the body and the floating pickup
hanging from the neck. I used to stuff the guitar with sheets and pillowcases; that would turn it
That was the guitar on the cover of 1967′s Strings and ’68′s Baiyina?
Yes. I used that guitar until I met (luthier) Sam Koontz; bless his soul, he’s no longer with us. He
came and heard me play, and told me he wanted to build an instrument for me as a gift through
respect. He did so. He built that guitar with an oval sound hole, very much like a Howard Roberts
model, and a floating pickup. It had a door that would slide over the oval hole; closing off the top
and cutting the feedback. I used that guitar on The Visit (1972) and on the live album (Pat
Martino/Live, 1972).
The 12-string was a birthday gift from my first wife. It was another pawn shop guitar, only this
time the guitar cost $80 (laughs)! It looked like a Gibson ES-335, but I think it was a Univox. In
respect for her gift, I used it on Desperado (Prestige, 1970). I re-strung the guitar as a regular
six-string with unisons on the first, second, third and fourth strings, I left the fifth and sixth as
single strings. That much pressure caused the neck to bend. The strings were almost a quarter of
an inch off the fingerboard at the time of the sessions. I used that guitar once, just for that
record.
Didn’t you also play a Gibson ES-335-12 on other records in that period, like the Barry
Yeah, I’m not sure where I got that guitar. Looking back, I guess the 335 brought me closer to
using a solidbody guitar (via a semi-solid). Physically, my muscles had to adapt to the proportions
of the guitar, and the thinner body. Not long after, I got involved with Starbright (1976).
Starbright had a lot of different sounds. It was a truly eclectic fusion album with
acoustic and electric tones, distortion and clean tones, and synthesizers.
Starbright had so many idiomatic suggestions in terms of material and sounds that we had to have
a board meeting at Warner Brothers to figure out how to market it. They asked me, “Exactly what
do you want to do?” That’s how the Joyous Lake band came about. Warner Brothers wanted a
definite image to market. I was with Gibson at the time. They notified me that they had just come
up with an L5-S, a solidbody L5 model, that wasn’t on the market yet. Gibson asked if I wanted to
use it. And I did. That’s when I really got back into a playing solidbody guitar again.
I was touring with the band behind the Joyous Lake record. Seizures were becoming so powerful
and frequent that I had to stop performing publicly. Physically, I wasn’t able to. I came back from
Europe and went into a hospital in New York City, that’s where I lived at the time. Not long after
that, I got divorced and moved to California. Since I had decided not to perform in public, I
stopped using the L-5S. Ibanez designed an instrument for me as a gift and I used that
occasionally. In fact you can see a picture of it in my book, Linear Expressions. This was a
solidbody guitar with intricate abalone inlay across the top of the body, fingerboard, and head.
Is that when you were teaching at G.I.T.? Didn’t you also use an Ovation acoustic?
Yes. At the same time, Ovation wanted me to try the Adamas. They asked if I would endorse it,
and I was happy to. That’s the guitar you see on the cover of Linear Expressions.
There was another that I designed for them and I ended up selling or giving to Earl Klugh, in
Detroit. The guitar was exactly like the one on Linear Expressions, except it was a doubleneck
version.
Nope. It had two six-string necks; the top neck was E-B-G-D-A-E, and the bottom was E-A-D-G-B-
E. Both were standard tuning. The top neck was upside-down, the bottom neck was right side up.
It was a natural inverted instrument, like a mirror image. A right or left handed player could pick it
up and feel comfortable on either one of the necks that fit their ability. I played both necks, but I
never recorded with it since I wasn’t active at the time as a performer. I do have some private
recordings, though. After that came the neuro syndrome. (Ed. Note: Martino suffered a brain
What can you tell us about your condition and the recovery?
Recovery is still taking place. In fact recovery is something that begins at birth (laughs). I’d had
seizures since the late ’60s. They were all misdiagnosed. Finally, when CAT scan and MRI came in
the mid to late ’70s, the diagnosis was correct. They gave me two hours to live. I was actually
relieved; there was joy in the truth. I knew I wasn’t insane, and no longer had to fear electric
I had to have an emergency operation. I decided to fly back to the East Coast and that trip took
five and a half hours; another misdiagnosis. I made it back, they performed the operations, and I
made it through. After the first operation, I went into a coma for 19 hours. The second operation
was successful, but I came out with total amnesia. Nothing was familiar.
In stages; it took a decision on my part. I procrastinated most of the time, until boredom became
the canvas. When boredom became painful, I needed something to take my mind off it. Then I
began to enjoy music again and the guitar became a toy. Since I remembered nothing, it was a
childish and playful relationship. It was starting from the beginning again. It was a wonderful
experience, unencumbered by career orientation or desires. It was not laden with musicianship,
The guitar became my favorite toy. In the beginning it wasn’t, it was my father’s possession that I
wanted to touch. I played the instrument I wasn’t allowed to touch as a child. Through the
playfulness, things started to come back. When I got disappointed or tired of the toy, I went to the
computer.
I also used the computer to balance my recovery. I entered data to give me information as text. I
went from the guitar to the computer; that allowed the playing to remain playful.
I didn’t get back into a relationship with the guitar until ’83. At that point, Tommy Gumina
approached me and asked to endorse a solidbody he had just designed for Polytone. I used and
endorsed that guitar, and Polytone amps, for about a year and a half.
At that time, I performed again for the first time; professionally, as opposed to locally in small
rooms. I went back to New York City to play the Bottom Line, using the Polytones. At that concert
(luthier) Abe Rivera came backstage and told me he would love to build an instrument for me, as
a gift. And he did. I named it Scepter, like a regal wand. That was the second time that I
Is that the carved guitar seen on the cover of the 1987 album Return and the videotape
Yes, but it weighed a ton! The Rivera guitar was made of exotic woods that were extremely heavy,
and it had pearl inlay. It was a beautiful guitar, though… a work of art.
Didn’t you flirt with a black Gibson Les Paul Custom again in ’90s?
Yes. Since the operation, I found it necessary to re-establish a relationship with my past and my
identity. And to try to experience an authenticity that was overlooked the first time through. It
was a necessity to try out a Les Paul Custom again.
Did getting reacquainted with a Gibson solidbody lead to the Pat Martino model?
Not directly, though it may have created a subliminal hunger for it.
Tell us about the creation of the Pat Martino signature model (see sidebar)…
Mike McGuire from Gibson asked if I’d be interested in seriously endorsing Gibson, which I had
done in the ’70s. I was only interested in endorsing my own model, primarily because I had
luthiers building guitars for me for years. Just to endorse a different instrument didn’t interest me.
The next question was, “What are we working with?” Gibson had some ideas that never reached
fruition, and we started there. He brought to my attention a Florentine-cutaway body. I went with
that because I really liked the L5. I wasn’t crazy about the semi-curve cutaway of the L5-S, it
wasn’t strictly a Florentine because it didn’t have a point on the edge. I wanted a thin body
approximately the size of a Les Paul; maybe a little bit bigger and shaped more like an L5 without
the density or width. We went with that. It’s got a semi-hollow body like a 335, with mahogany
I wanted nothing on the fingerboard, like a classical guitar. I figured if we got fancy with inlay it
would raise the price. We put dots on the side of the fingerboard only. We used a smaller head
with straight string pull. It was used previously on another model, I don’t remember which (Ed.
Note: The ’97 Gibson Les Paul DC-Pro and the ES-336 models had a similar headstock). That
appealed to me because I consider E-to-E (open strings) at the nut to be the first position. I play
with my first finger below the nut then and adjust my fingerings for open strings. The nut is the
first fret, literally, and therefore familiar, not a separate entity. That seems logical to me.
After that, Gibson sent me a number of blueprints. We worked on details and, finally, it reached
fruition in ’98.
Keep in mind, there’s a difference between my relationships with all of these realities than most
guitar players. In my case whatever comes up from social opportunity is useful. I adapt to it. If a
Roland JC-120 is available to me, it’s because Tom Glenn from Roland Corporation, a good friend
and former student, had one shipped to me as a gift. And therefore that’s what I used.
Finally, the more active I became and have become, the more difficult it became to depend on
personal items. For years I relied on riders to make instruments available on the road. I came to
find out that in most cases Fender amplifiers and Roland JC-120s were the most available and I
specified a second amp in case the first one was damaged. When this proved unreliable I was
What change?
I had a discussion with (bassist) Buster Williams at a festival in Oregon, the Mount Hood Jazz
Festival. I’d had some trouble with a JC-120 on stage and he told me about a company that had
just built him a bass power amp. It weighs six pounds; you can carry it on the plane in a shoulder
bag yourself. It’s no bigger than a cigar box. I was interested. It was an Acoustic Image amp.
That’s what I use now. On current riders I just specify speaker cabinets, monitors.
The Raezer’s Edge cabinets are tremendous. They are well-made and beautiful; they are also
precise and clear. The only problem is that they aren’t available in the middle of nowhere.
When recording I go directly into the board. I stopped using amps when recording from
Interchange(1994) on. I rely on the engineer to enhance the sound; I admit it is a gamble. The
typical direct guitar sound is flat. I have to have it colored to give it more resonance and warmth.
In sessions I interact with the engineer. I always did, even when I used amps for recording. Back
then there was an intermediate stage between us, the amp. In retrospect it was of no value other
than a personal desire to hear what you hear during stage performance in the studio. That in itself
is unrealistic. The studio is not a stage; it’s sterile, like an operating room.
I use a Gibson Pat Martino Custom or Standard and the Acoustic Image Clarus amp. I recorded
Live at Yoshi’s with the black Standard. I recorded the new album, Think Tank, with both.
In the studio, I use the Clarus direct, as a preamp, into the board. There’s a direct out on the unit
which bypasses effects as well as the Clarus itself, which I use for more authenticity and personal
identity.
Consciousness. What stands out is the facility. It wasn’t my favorite album in terms of recording
quality; in fact it’s far from close. I would also pick Joyous Lake for different reasons. Now that I
Unlike many jazz guitarists, your albums have never had sameness in terms of repertory
or ensemble. The minute one hears East, you throw Baiyina at them; this is followed by
Desperado and The Visit, We’ll Be Together and Joyous Lake. The records seem very
different, in tone, from each other. Eventually, maybe 30 years later, you’re hit with
There’s a mega-cycle taking place. I view it as a larger scope, like four seasons of a year. Things
reappear at a later date; like Stone Blue and Joyous Lake. There are other relationships like that:
The project was a challenge, initially. I was asked to use a different lineup but refused and chose
my own. It is Joe Lovano on tenor sax, Gonzalo Rubalcaba on piano, Christian McBride on bass,
and Lewis Nash on drums. Gonzalo is from Cuba and is one of the greatest pianists alive. It’s an
eight-song repertoire on the album. Four of the compositions are mine: “Think Tank,” “Dozen
Of the other tunes, one was written by Harold Mabern, one by Jim Ridl, one by an alto player, Joe
Ford, and one by John Coltrane – “Africa.” We began with 14 compositions as the format. Those
that didn’t fit peeled off. What were left were the eight selections on the album.
I’m very excited about the result. The sound is more intervallic than anything I’ve done before.
It’s more so even than “Noshufuru” (The Maker, 1994). That makes it feel to me like a dedication
to John Coltrane. The group is like a family to me. And Bela Fleck wrote the liner notes.
There’s a duet with just me and Gonzalo on a gorgeous Jim Ridl song “Sun On My Hands.” My tune
“Think Tank” is specifically dedicated to John Coltrane. It’s like a minor blues and is based upon an
alphabetic junction of three words: Coltrane, tenor, and blue. That’s where the song came from.
There are 26 letters in the alphabet from A to Z. Below the alphabet, attached and interfaced to it,
is the Aeolian mode (the A minor scale: A to G), three and a half times, seven letters tied to 26
letters of the alphabet. For example, Coltrane came out as C-O-L, the first three notes of the
phrase or the notes C-A-E. T-R-A-N-E came out as F-D-A-G-E. And so on. It’s a lot of fun to
This article originally appeared in VG‘s Jan. ’04 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage