SESSION SHENANIGANS
MITCH DALTON
The studio guitarist’s guide to happiness and personal fulfilment, as related by our resident session ace. This month: Nostalgia Ain’t What It Used To Be.
From time to time I find myself trapped on social occasions by an individual who professes to be a busy session guitarist. Having tried the various responses, such as incredulity, derision and manslaughter, I now merely listen politely, nod in agreement and attempt to engineer a subtle change of subject with, “These olives are exceptionally good, don’t you think?” I then make my excuses and leave. On returning home, I’ve been known to pick up the nearest instrument and produce a mellifluous rendition of C Sharp Minor Seventh With A Raised Eyebrow. It helps.
The golden age of the studio scene occurred somewhere between 1960 and 1985 AD, according to historians and a fair number of banjo players. Allow me to take you back to when, according to studio legend and wit, Judd Proctor, “If you owned a guitar you were working”.