“Ask anyone in Hollywood where the craziest people live and they’ll say Laurel Canyon,” said ex-resident Joni Mitchell. And as our taxi winds uphill through Laurel Canyon on a summer’s day, talk naturally turns to its (in)famous inhabitants. Once the stomping ground of Frank Zappa, David Crosby and Jim Morrison (to name but a few), this fabled neighbourhood in the Hollywood Hills is the stuff of legend, and we’re excited to be here.
But not everybody shares our excitement. When we reach our destination and start to unload, the Uber driver appears nervous and is keen to get back in his Toyota. Pointing to a nearby tree, he informs us the last time he was here he encountered a mountain lion. As the car speeds off downhill, we buzz the intercom hoping for a swift and safe entry. Several long minutes pass and we begin to wonder if we’re at the right address when the heavy metal security gate slowly swings open revealing a crossed pair of oversized model Les Pauls. Well, it certainly looks like we’re in the right place. Anticipating a growl and glancing nervously over our shoulders, we proceed up the steep driveway past a bright neon sign that confirms our 5,500-mile journey’s end: “Welcome to fabulous Nerdville California.”
Visions of killer wildlife rapidly give way to thoughts of killer guitars as we arrive at an open garage crammed full of six-string objets d’art and collectibles. Here, we’re met by Joe Bonamassa’s longtime friend Rick Gould who shows us into the living museum of Nerdville West – the Los Angeles counterpart to Nashville’s Nerdville East. And emerging from the skylit lounge that is the location of this issue’s cover shoot is the man himself. Though he will later don the trademark suit of ‘Joe Bonamassa the Entertainer’, he greets us wearing a homely t-shirt, jeans and slippers and we head outside to sit down and chat under the warm glow of the Californian sun. Bonamassa makes himself comfortable, lights up a cigar and cracks open a Diet Coke as he gazes out across Laurel Canyon contemplatively.
Now 46, he is a far cry from the wide-eyed 12-year-old prodigy dubbed ‘Smokin’ Joe Bonamassa’ who shared stages with the likes of BB King – a mentor whom the guitarist cites throughout our conversation. Back in the late 80s, it would have been easy to assume that such a precocious talent was destined only for success. But come his third solo record, 2003’s , the young maestro’s career hung precariously in the balance. “That was the last shot,” reveals Bonamassa. “If we didn’t get any traction, I was pretty much over. And I’d probably be playing for somebody else or not in the music business. This was it. It was the last 10 grand my manager and I had. We put it all in,
