By the dawn of the ’70s, though he was only 19, Carlos Alomar, a Puerto Rican-born New York citizen and son of a strict Pentecostal minister, had made a lifetime’s worth of memories. Not only had he regularly dominated the stage at Harlem’s Apollo Theater, but he’d backed Chuck Berry and James Brown and even served as the house band for Sesame Street’s first few episodes before moving on to session work for RCA Studios, which was booming by 1970.
Soon, Alomar joined the Main Ingredient, an NYC-based soul and R&B group that had a hit with Everybody Plays the Fool, which bolstered Alomar’s cachet, as did a notable guest spot with Ben E. King on Supernatural. And while all that was wonderful, none held a candle to what was next – a gig beside David Bowie as he entered his most experimental period.
The connection between Bowie and Alomar – who’d soon become the former’s musical director – was immediate. Their backgrounds couldn’t have been more different, and their inherent sensibilities were far-spaced, too. But it worked, as evidenced by 1975’s Young Americans.
However, the next album – 1976’s Station to Station – was truly special; it was the inaugural album featuring the D.A.M. Trio. “As far as the D.A.M. Trio goes,” Alomar says, “you had me on guitar, Dennis Davis on drums and George Murray on bass. We had a tight, cohesive sound. It underpinned much of David’s music during that era. We were a crucial part of his transition through different musical phases. And this fact is also undeniable: the D.A.M. Trio’s legacy equals, if not surpasses, that of the Spiders from Mars.”
That’s a weighty claim. But then again, listening back to Station to Station and the iconic – and highly experimental – records that came next (1977’s Low and Heroes and 1979’s Lodger – AKA the “Berlin Trilogy”), maybe Alomar has a point.
Flourishes of funk, R&B, jazz and rock are apparent throughout, all of which are in stark contrast to Bowie’s other partner in crime, Brian Eno, who injected massive doses of Weirdsville electronica into the mix. But that was just fine by Alomar.
“Hearing the finished product of Low was definitely surprising,” he says. “It was so different from anything we had done before. I was very happy with the D.A.M. Trio and our offerings. And then I flipped over the album; I just turned off all the lights and got lost in the ambiance. It was exciting to hear how our collective efforts resulted in something so groundbreaking.”
This fact is also undeniable: the D.A.M. Trio’s legacy equals, if not surpasses, that of the Spiders from Mars
As impactful as he was in the studio, Alomar’s influence didn’t end there. Once on tour and competing with Earl Slick’s walls of Marshall stacks, Alomar devised one of the earliest examples of a live rack system.
“I could now compete with any Marshall stacks with these bad boys,” he says. “I developed one of the first rack systems for rhythm guitar – out of necessity. I did it to keep all my gear organized in total stereo, and to make it easily accessible. My main live guitar at that time, “Maverick” – a custom-made instrument from Alembic – and my new rig gave me the confidence, flexibility and reliability I needed for live performances.”
Alomar rounded out the ’70s touring beside Adrian Belew, who had joined Bowie’s band, resulting in 1978’s live record, Stage.
“Touring with Adrian was a blast,” he says. “He brought a very creative and experimental energy to the band. He, along with Roger Powell, Simon House and Sean Mayes, added a bright, whimsical and fun styling to the D.A.M. Trio. While Adrian’s style differed from Earl Slick’s, we found a good rhythm together. Adrian’s avant-garde approach was a great complement to my funkier style.”
Touring with Adrian was a blast. He brought a very creative and experimental energy to the band
By 1979, Alomar wasn’t yet 30, but much like his 19-year-old self in 1970, he’d done more than most could claim to have done in a lifetime. He’d go on to do more and impact music in ways he’d never have imagined, but if not for gaining a foothold in the industry in the ’70s, none of it would have been possible. “I was born a Pentecostal minister’s son, and I learned to play guitar in church at 10 years old,” Alomar says. “I honored my parents.”
“When my dad died,” he continues. “I sought my fortune at the Apollo Theater and married my teenage sweetheart. After-hours joints, small gigs, commercials, jingles, session work and Bowie followed. My daughter Lea-Lórien was born during the recording of Bowie’s Berlin Trilogy.
“I was born in Puerto Rico and raised in the Bronx, and in this epoch of music during the ’70s, I traveled around the world with a bona fide rock star. So mark me down as someone who loved the ’70s!”
Entering the ’70s, did you have a good bead on the type of guitarist you wanted to be?
“Absolutely. I entered the ’70s with a strong sense of who I was. I had a wonderful family and religious upbringing as a minister’s son. My father gifted me a guitar when I was 10. My dad died when I was just 15, but by then, he had already given me his blessing to pursue my career as a guitarist.
“I learned to be versatile and innovative, blending my roots in R&B and soul with a growing interest in rock and funk. My key was always to stay adaptable and open to new sounds and techniques.”
What did your rig look like as you got rolling with session work?
“In the early ’70s, I still used my Gibson ES-335, paired with a Fender Twin Reverb. This was standard gear for R&B. I loved the clean, powerful sound that setup gave me, which was perfect for the wide range of session work and commercials I was doing, which, at that time, was jazz and R&B.”
It was early for that sort of thing, but did you use many pedals?
“Initially, I didn’t use many effects, just a little amp reverb. I focused on getting the right tone directly from my guitar and amp. However, as the decade progressed, I heard Shaft by Issac Hayes, so I started incorporating a wah-wah and, of course, Jimi Hendrix’s Fuzz Face, as well as occasionally a phase shifter to add some color to my playing.”
Initially, I didn’t use many effects, just a little amp reverb. I focused on getting the right tone directly from my guitar and amp. However, as the decade progressed, I heard Shaft by Issac Hayes so I started incorporating a wah-wah
How did you get involved with the Main Ingredient?
“Through connections at RCA Recording Studios, where I became their in-house guitarist – and through producer Bert DeCeaux. He introduced me to Tony Sylvester, a member of the Main Ingredient.”
How did you approach the gig once you joined?
“They were looking for a guitarist to add a fresh, soulful vibe to their sound. They had recently lost their lead singer, Donald McPherson, to diabetes, and Cuba Gooding Sr. was brought in as the new lead singer. They also wanted a new band. I approached the guitars with a focus on complementing their rich vocal harmonies, using smooth R&B rhythms and melodic lines – what I then called ‘chord-based’ soloing.”
What was it like working with Ben E. King on Supernatural?
“It was an amazing experience. It was at the beginning of my career, around 1974-75. I was working with the Main Ingredient; Tony Silvester, one of the singers, recommended that I work with Bert De Coteaux, and that’s how I got on the session. Supernatural had this infectious groove; I wanted to capture that with my guitar work. There was more than one guitarist, so I used a lot of syncopation and tight, funky rhythms to enhance the track’s feel.”
How’d you meet David Bowie?
“Surprisingly enough, I met David at RCA. Again, Tony Silvester recommended I play in a session with Lulu. She was a recording artist who would have a session at RCA. So I accepted the job, thinking I’d meet Lulu, who appeared in To Sir, With Love, the 1967 film starring Sidney Poitier. I figured that would be like being six degrees of separation from Poitier, but regrettably, she wasn’t there. The person who was there, though, was her producer – David Bowie.”
What were your initial impressions of David?
“We hit it off while in the studio, and I invited him to my apartment to meet my wife, Robin Clark, for a home-cooked meal. He must have weighed about 98 lbs., with orange hair and pasty white skin. To my surprise, he actually accepted my invitation. He came to my house in Queens.
“We jammed, I talked about the Apollo Theater, he talked about the Spiders from Mars. I invited him to see me at the Apollo to see the Main Ingredient and Richard Pryor, which he did. He had a great time; we hung out a bit, and then he asked me if I would work with him.
“I was already working with the Main Ingredient, and they had a hit with Everybody Plays the Fool, so we were working a lot, and I was married and making good money. So, regrettably, Bowie couldn’t afford me.”
What led to you eventually working with Bowie?
“Later, he was desperate to record in Philly, and that’s when he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. He hoped to get TSOP (the Sound of Philadelphia) as his backing band, but they turned him down. He was looking for a new sound, and after working together, he invited me to join his band for the Young Americans sessions.”
What did your rig look like as you entered the studio to work on Young Americans?
“I hadn’t really expanded my rig at all. By then, I knew some of the outboard gear found in studios and depended on 19-inch studio rack units instead of pedals to experiment with new sounds. I was using an ES-335TD CRS Country Rock Stereo for its warm, rich tones.”
How did your style specifically impact songs like Young Americans and Fame?
“My style brought a distinctive funk and soul flavor to those tracks. On Young Americans, my rhythmic playing helped define the groove, giving it that soulful Latin feel. For Fame, the main riff I came up with became the backbone of the song. It was all about creating something catchy yet intricate and continuing to follow the templates of funk that I learned at the Apollo Theater.”
Speaking of Fame, what was it like working with John Lennon?
“I was in the studio with [producer] Harry Maslin, and suddenly Bowie walks in – and he’s accompanied by John Lennon and May Pang, who I’m still friends with. They were extremely joyful and jovial. When they came in, the whole place kind of stopped. I stopped recording – and then it was just us.
“David let John hear the track I was working on – but I must say, although he listened, he and David were still totally engaged and the laughter never stopped. You have a person who is so famous – John Lennon – and all he cares about is making himself the blunt end of the joke in order to make everybody else feel comfortable.”
I really liked [John Lennon]. He was approachable, not a hard character at all. He laid down a simple guitar part. He was accommodating and didn’t try to disturb the groove at all
“I really liked him. He was approachable, not a hard character at all. He laid down a simple guitar part. He was accommodating and didn’t try to disturb the groove at all.
“Then David asked me if I wanted to go out to dinner with them! I had a big ‘dilemma’ moment; I was hearing certain [musical] things in my head, so I didn’t wanna go and start talking to John and David and possibly lose myself in the drinks or their conversation.
“I decided to exclude myself, return to my guitar parts and finish my ideas. When they came back, David heard what I did and was so impressed that I had done so much in such a short time. He loved it. He said, ‘Let me just put down this one little guitar part.’ It was a perfect Bowie part; he recorded this distorted, one-line guitar that cut through all that funky clarity.
“With that one part, that was it – the record was done. He had another session where he recorded variable-speed versions of ‘fame, fame, fame fame’ – but that was it. What an amazing experience.”
How did things shake out on David’s next record, Station to Station?
“It was an intense and creative process. When I first arrived at the sessions, I chose my Twin Reverb. When Slicky came in, he dragged in a Marshall stack and would not turn it down. So I decided to turn my guitar down. When Bowie came in to rehearse, we started playing; he stopped and immediately turned around and asked Slick to turn down because he couldn’t hear me.”
Was there a trick to sharing space with Earl?
“That ploy worked for rehearsals, but I knew I was in sonic trouble with Slick and his Marshall stacks. Since I now had an ES-335TD CRS Country Rock Stereo, I got two Fender Twin 12s and turned them up to match my mood. Sharing space with Earl Slick was a balancing act of sorts. We each had our unique style, so it was about complimenting each other rather than competing.”
A yin and yang?
“Communication and mutual respect were key to making it work. But you should duly note that I was not alone. This was the formation of the D.A.M. Trio, featuring drummer Dennis Davis, me on guitar and bassist George Murray. We would remain with Bowie throughout many collaborations.
“At this point, Bowie and I agreed that I’d work only as a trio, and everything else would be an overdub. This remained so throughout our relationship, so we didn’t really have any problems, though we had challenges. Again, communication and mutual respect were key to making it work.”
The collaboration with Brian Eno on Low also brought a new dimension to our sound. The D.A.M. Trio had to adapt to a more experimental approach, which included more ambient and electronic elements
Once David got rolling with Brian Eno on the next record, Low, how did that impact the D.A.M. Trio?
“Well, in a way, it did, but it really didn’t. As the D.A.M. Trio, we were really trying to develop our own sound. This was evident from all the material from the Berlin Trilogy, meaning the things that were not the more computer-based symphonic orchestrations that dominated the headlines.
“The D.A.M. Trio was the bedrock and the foundation for what was to follow. So we were very proud of all the songs and singles released that identified our sound. But the collaboration with Brian Eno on Low also brought a new dimension to our sound. The D.A.M. Trio had to adapt to a more experimental approach, which included more ambient and electronic elements.”
How did it impact your guitar sound specifically?
“We also collaborated with other international musicians. I loved it. It pushed me to think differently about my guitar parts, often simplifying them to fit the broader, more atmospheric context. That experience truly changed me, and I’ve got Brian Eno to thank. Respect. Even now, I wanted to recreate that discovery of wonder that comes from experimenting.”
Can you remember the sessions for Heroes, specifically the title track?
“The sessions for Heroes were magical. The title track was particularly special. We recorded it in Berlin, and the atmosphere was just electric. Ahhh, Berlin, the Wall, the gunners, Checkpoint Charlie, the speakeasies, Romi’s place, the underground. Brian had his synths and all kinds of magnetic ribbon things sticking out of it. It was mesmerizing.
“That song was like riding a wave… a sonic wave. It just had a beautiful drone that we didn’t want to disturb. My approach was to keep the guitar parts simple yet powerful, allowing David’s vocals and the overall production to shine.”
Where did you get your Alembic guitar, which you used pretty often around that time?
“Oh, man! You’re talking about Maverick, my stereo Alembic guitar. I love that guitar. Did you know it was used exclusively with David? Yep! Maverick only 'twanged' for Bowie. Here’s how it went down: I found out that Stanley Clarke used an Alembic bass; I was always so impressed with his tonal capabilities.
“I then discovered Jerry Garcia from the Grateful Dead had commissioned them to make a guitar version. That was all I needed to hear. I immediately contacted Alembic and asked them to build a guitar to fit my fingers and style.
“Now that I had a new powerful stereo guitar with total tone control, I knew I’d have to address that situation with Earl Slick and his Marshall stacks. In that moment of clarity, I decided I had to get into some kind of amplifier design.”
Is that what led you to develop your rack system, one of the first of its kind?
“Yes. By this time, I was very comfortable with studio-quality 19-inch effect rack units. I decided my best option would be to create a rack unit for the road. I told David, and he endorsed and financed the whole thing. I’m sure he was eager to see the results. So I consulted and hired builders to build me racks units, some speakers and a special rig to compete against Marshall stacks. What an awesome experiment it was.”
What were the specs?
“Tweeters for highs, two 12-inch speakers in an enclosed fiberglass Alembic cabinet for the mids and an inverted 15-inch Gauss speaker bass cabinet for the low end – coupled with a three-way crossover system to integrate them all. Separate crown power amps to power them all. And then my 19-inch rack units, MXR flangers and phasers and other effects topped the cake.”
Rounding out the ’70s, you recorded Lodger. Where was your head at, musically, by then?
“By the time we recorded Lodger, I was in a very experimental mindset. The ’70s had been a decade of incredible growth and change for me. Musically, I was focused on pushing boundaries and continuing to evolve my sound. I wasn’t thinking about recording. I was playing with my toys. But regrettably, I also found this period to be a little awkward.”
By the time we recorded Lodger, I was in a very experimental mindset. The ’70s had been a decade of incredible growth and change for me
Why is that?
“Firstly, we were touring and had to record during a break… we really had nothing prepared. Secondly, the studio was rather dull and uninspiring. And third and final, the Eno experiments had waned. We had fun, but we could have been better prepared.”
How do you measure your impact on David’s music?
“It was extremely significant in terms of bringing a unique rhythmic and melodic sensibility to his work. The ease of collaboration in the studio, extraordinary diversity of styles, cadences, syncopations and ethnic diversity that I offered David was unsurpassed, if I do say so myself. However, on a more esoteric level, our personal relationship, which developed over these decades, was crucial to David’s comfort and, thus, growth.”
How do you measure your growth as a player during the ’70s, and was it stifled by the electronic music with Eno?
“My growth as a player during the ’70s was tremendous. Bowie was an integral part of it, but it wasn’t my only source of inspiration. Working with many diverse artists and styles pushed me to constantly improve and adapt. While the electronic music with Eno was challenging, it wasn’t stifling. Instead, it broadened my perspective and forced me to innovate in new ways.”
Looking back on the ’70s, is there anything you’d change?
“Oh no – I’m delighted to face my fate and destiny. What a glorious odyssey it still is. I’m most proud of the work I did with David Bowie, especially on Young Americans and Station to Station. If there’s anything I’d change, it might be to have experimented even more with different sounds and techniques. But overall, I’m very satisfied with what I accomplished during that incredible decade.”
