The late Bernie Marsden seems universally acknowledged as one of the good guys. Possibly best known for his time in and in association with Whitesnake, he spent time also with a dizzy array of bands: U.F.O., Wild Turkey, Babe Ruth, Paice, Ashton & Lord before that, and any number of solo or semi-solo enterprises afterwards. He was a reliable provider of rock guitar, just on the more tactile and friendlier shores of metal, closer to blues rock than heavy rock. As well as being a masterful player, able to bleed notes from any of the many guitars he collected over his lifetime’s playing, he also possessed a no-nonsense meat and potatoes rock holler. He died, in 2023, having caught bacterial meningitis.
His later recordings were often made in the form of collections of songs by artists or studios influential to him: the “Inspirations” series. 2021 saw “Kings” (a tribute to B.B., Freddie and Albert, the trifecta of regal blues) and “Chess” (a tribute to the studio of Marshall Chess and the artists who were there nurtured) come out, while “Trios” (a little more self-explanatory) was issued in 2022. In similar sleeve design, the posthumous release Icons is the fourth of his last five records in the same vein. (The album between, “Working Man”, released shortly after his death, was all Marsden originals, thus breaking the pattern.)
Albums featuring the “favorite tracks” by guitarists have a vexatious history. At one end of the spectrum, in, arguably, the blues from which rock was born, there is a long tradition of recycling and repeating the same riffs and repetitions, whether acknowledged or otherwise. At the other you get the deeply divisive “superstar plus friends” sessions, pumping out easy listening lite derivatives. Carlos Santana’s “Guitar Heaven” must surely here be the nadir, and this listener’s hell. Thankfully, Icons is not that, as it it comes over just so darn genial. Indeed, such is the choice of material that anyone with longer teeth in the game, and perhaps out of touch with the current playing field of rock guitar, will get a warming flashback to their more formative days, when this sort of ticket was just the job for any red-blooded boy with a denim jacket to embroider and satchel to stencil.
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