Growing up in Brooklyn, NY in the 1970’s, I played guitar in a band called Wajang, along with 3 other friends from South Shore High School. We rehearsed at a base on East 93rd Street in the East Flatbush section. It was in the summer of 1972, during a break from rehearsals, when my bandmates were out on the sidewalk to get some air, we heard this guitar work screaming that it was pure talent. It sounded like the Fillmore East at show time. We looked at each other and instinctively ran around the corner to locate the source of some of the most amazing mixes of fusion, rock and blues guitar we’ve ever heard. The solos were clean and sustained with touches from Larry Coryell, John McLaughlin and Johnny Winter all rolled into one.
Our search led us to the house of the bass player. We cautiously walked through the driveway to the backyard, aware that we hadn’t been explicitly invited, though I’m sure the musicians knew that such a decibel level would surely attract the attention of neighbors or the police. In the backyard we found a four piece band consisting of Arthur and his friend Cliff exchanging lead guitar solos, Cleveland on bass and Adrian on drums. Standing there mesmerized and watching these amazing performances, we get a lifetime of lessons compressed into a two hour jam session. They played some original songs and some better-sounding covers as Arthur and Cliff took turns teeing off. We introduced ourselves and wasted no time in telling them how much we appreciated meeting them. We soon realized that these guys were not just committed to their craft, they were fans of their brand of music. Arthur was the leader at 15 and, as we were to learn, a prodigy not only on guitar, but also on keyboard and saxophone.
I went through Arthur’s rehearsal a few more times to observe his practice routine. He confided to me that at least 8 hours a day was his standard. He had something in his head that was beyond the specific instrument he was playing at the time. You could see him trying to get the instrument to play what he was hearing in his head. He played these bursts of notes on the guitar punctuated with wild curves that defied the physical geometry of the instrument. He seemed more like a painter than a musician. He made sophisticated statements in vast, layered sound samples, but just when you thought he was pushing the limits with sheer technical wizardry, he turned out in the most poignant expressions that Carlos Santana was proud. His fingers were a blur of movement as he rampaged across the fingerboard.
He came to our rehearsal once and we were honored that he stopped by and saw our band. When he entered there was a deathly silence. In our band we used vocals, trumpets and guitars and played a mix of dance music, rock, reggae, as well as some Tower of Power and Ronnie Laws. Arthur couldn’t resist sitting down. He pulled the guitar out of him and plugged it in while we listened to some of our songs. That was the first time I saw someone do a hand tapping technique by fretting with their fingers resting on the fingerboard like a pianist. Arthur was famous for his wild fusion riffs, but that night he did his best to move from one genre to another. He was in the zone and seemed to be using the entire basement floor to do his guitar act. He would bend down to squeeze the essence out of the high strings and then jump to the side to play another burst followed by a jump and leap forward for another blast. What a performance! Before he left he told me that he knew I loved the Stratocaster but he thought I would be more comfortable with a Les Paul. He then wanted to know if he had been following my practice regimen as we had discussed. I thanked him for his advice and admitted that he needed to work harder.
Arthur lived for music: everything else was secondary. To all of us, he felt strange taking advice from a younger player, but he was talented and when he spoke, everyone listened. The way he expressed his talent certainly required an understanding that was beyond his age.
Sadly Arthur Rhames passed away in 1989 at the age of 32 and touched the lives of many musicians who were lucky enough to know him. May he rest in peace.
