The Other Guitar Heroes Volume 2 - D Boon

The Other Guitar Heroes - D. Boon

I gotta back **way** up for this, so bear with me a few minutes…

When I was 15, I ran into this tumultuous crisis in my playing and my thinking of this funny bit of wood and wire in my hands. I started getting my shit together right when Couldn’t Stand The Weather came out. Instantly, I was a huge Stevie Ray Vaughn fan, I worshipped him. And getting into what is now called “classic rock,” I naturally fell under the spell of Hendrix. But I became disheartened in the summer of ’83 with that path. Neither were as heavy as Hubert Sumlin (I was listening to Wolf before either Vaughn or Hendrix), neither were that original (I’ll tell my Buddy Guy story later), and both were, frankly, too simple. I mean, I could barely play a barre C chord, and I figured out all the riffs and fills from 3rd Stone From The Sun. 

Disillusioned, I disavowed what I termed Guitar Historonics. (And I do to this day). I draw a line in the dirt and said, right, my guitar influences are gonna be Johnny Ramone and Poison Ivy. (A little later, Gerard Van Herk from Deja Voodoo got on that list, more on him in another instalment). Such a dumb teen aged stance, but I stood by it. Sure, East Bay Ray crept in when I discovered the Kennedys, Bob Mould crept in when I discovered Husker Du, etc. But it was the trinity for me: Johnny, Poison, and Gerard. For years.

Then, between the spring and summer of ’86, I quickly discovered three bands that, besides kicking my ass three ways to Sunday, utterly changed my perception of what the guitar is capable of. Three players who made me realize that it was cool to solo, you could still find an utterly original voice on the instrument, and there was nothing to fear for wanting to bear your teeth and play. Utterly changed my world, made me hunker down and take this instrument seriously, almost religiously, and to have no fear about exploring what was in me as a player.

They were Andy Kerr from No Means No, Greg Ginn from Black Flag, and D. Boon of the Minutemen.

In light of the recent 30th anniversary of Double Nickels on the Dime, I wanna let you all in on the genius, pure raw fucking musical genius, of D. Boon’s playing. That trebly chainsaw, that mashing of BOC and CCR with Wire and PIL, the guy who taught me the power of the 9th chord. Every time I pick up a guitar, whether I’m after noise or metal or jazz or roots, I instantly think, what would Dennes do? What can I do here that isn’t a rerun of something past, what can I seemingly pull out of thin air that’s based on a deep understanding of basic musical structure, what can I play that’s gonna rule? And will I remember to shut up if that’s what the song needs?

That’s the biggest lesson I got from D. that I never remember to employ - shut the fuck up. Mike Watt always said that in the Minutemen, they figgered the silences would be louder than the cymbal crashes. Those dynamics, loud to soft, fast to slow,  complex to simple, went on to influence thousands of bands. But D. believed in the sonic spectrum: the treble wouldn’t bogart the mids of the toms, nor the low end Watt occupied. Democratic sonic sculpting: try it sometimes, it works so well.

My second favourite solo of all time: D. Boon vs Joe Biaza

And dude could pick killer riffs and fills, even without the trappings of that trebly tone.

It’s so sad that D.’s been gone for 29 years this December. What he would’ve accomplished… you know what? He did accomplish something pretty amazing in that time: a legacy. A legacy that has spun out from its hardcore roots, into college rock, alternate, grunge, and now spreading right across the spectrum. Let yourself be heard indeed!