GENERAL PATTERSON

If you have frequented live music events in Northeast Louisiana for the past thirty years, chances are that you’ve seen a barrel chested bear of a man, bandana clad, wearing a sleeveless plaid button down, jean shorts, signature work boots, shredding an electric guitar with a lit cigar in his mouth. Once in a while, he’ll drive out a few back-up vocals, but mostly this stoic guitar virtuoso is completely immersed in dishing rapid riffs as loud as he can during any set. General Keith Patterson may not consider himself or his music “for commercial consumption,” but that’s exactly what makes him the guitar general–unapologetic bravado, unmatched experience and unwavering regard for local music.

article by VANELIS RIVERA | photography by ANDREW BAILEY

General Patterson has been playing guitar since the age of 13, first taking lessons from the jazz great Roland Gresham in Nashville, TN. Originally, he began playing the trumpet, even playing in a band. But when he went down to Baton Rouge, LA, to visit his cousin who was taking lessons on a six-string at the time, he returned to Nashville with the thought, “I gotta play guitar.” Gresham was a Seventh Day Adventist preacher who, to Patterson, looked like American jazz guitarist John Leslie “Wes” Montgomery and could play “all kinds of things,” because he had “huge hands.” Though not having an affinity for jazz, Patterson credits the experience with allowing him to be more open to other genres of music, proceeding to wear out all the albums he could get his hands on, drawing inspiration and trying to copy licks from Santana, Steely Dan, ZZ Top, and the like.
After he graduated high school in 1979, he went straight to the Navy serving for a quick stint, gaining significant experience working in a Special Forces unit. Shortly after, he proceeded to a college career then out into the giggin’ world. Moving to Ruston in 1984, he played guitar in just about every locale in the area. “Good Lord,” he says, “I’ve been playing in all these dumps and dives and bars for a long time.” His initial performing days included a five-year stint with the great Kenny Bill Stinson, local full-time musician, who Patterson considers a Louisiana treasure. “He’s a walking library. Guys like him don’t exist anymore,” he says, emphasizing that only a few musicians in the area can play that great. “Learned millions of things from him.” Moving forward, the General became a member of prominent Ruston-based jam band, Howard Shaft, touring the South and recording an album with them. Thanks to that whirlwind experience, he got exposed to playing more Rhythm and Blues, which hadn’t been in his wheelhouse at the time. “It’s a well oiled machine,” he says of that band, adding that finding guys that can play well together is the optimal music experience for him. “I’ve always been a band guy. Never been a solo artist guy, never cared about that. I always wanted to see how the band operates, how all that works,” he says. After moving around the country as an archeological field tech, he finally moved back to north Louisiana, which is when he fell in with the esteemed Monty Russell, for whom he played guitar for twelve years. When they first became cohorts, Russell was a policeman in Ruston. He’d often have to go to the former Trenton Street Cafe, where Patterson worked to get the pile of college kids spilling into the streets to crowd back toward the establishment. “Playing with Monty is an experience in itself. We could fill a book, and people wouldn’t believe it,” he laughs. “I owe a lot to him, because he was the one who encouraged me to write my own songs and play my own stuff, which I don’t ever get to do. I owe him a lot, not only as a musician, but as a good friend.” Locally, he also played with another “local legend,” Patty Rambin. “She has paid her dues as a musician. She’s incredible,” he says.
One of Patterson’s many fascinating tidbits from his life are tied to his upbringing. Growing up on the outskirts of Nashville, he lived close to “all those Old Country, Opry stars,” like Stringbean and Grandpa Jones. He was friends with Johnny Cash’s and Willie Nelson’s kids. “To us, he was just Mr. Nelson,” he says. When Nelson came through the area on tour, Russell was able to get them both gigs as part of the band. He has also opened for Dwight Yoakam and Blues Traveler. To say the least, the General has paid his dues. Recently, he’s been splitting his guitar duties between Josh Madden and Patty Rambin, occasionally gigging with Chris Canterbury, Wade Reeves and Beaux Atkins.
Everybody around here knows that General Patterson is the loudest player. I guess I am,” he says. Though he admires the acoustic guitar and even more so musicians who have mastered the complex craft of finger picking, his choice has always been the electric. “I have a 50 watt amp. I’m gonna turn that sucker wide open,” he says. “You’re gonna hear that sumbitch.” He doesn’t make any apologies about what some would consider overplaying. When the General is on stage, most everyone knows exactly what they’re going to get. “Sometimes you gotta let it out,” he says. “Why not?”
Patterson doesn’t own many guitars. If he’s seen with more than one guitar, either his 1975 Gibson 335, Strat, or Telecaster, it’s usually in case one breaks down. “It’s just wood and wire,” he says, admitting he’s more of an “amplifier dude.” The Gibson originally belonged to one of his buddies, who he played alongside in Rambin’s band. “He had it under his bed. I saw it under there one day, and I was like ‘Dang!’ And he said, ‘Yeah, I don’t really like it.’” So on another occasion he traded a Telecaster he had for the 335. The oldest guitar he has is the guitar his dad gifted him when he got out of the military. It’s one of his most cherished instruments, not just because it holds the memory of his father, but also because he thought he’d never see it again. “I lost that guitar in 1986,” he says, when he pawned it at a time when he was in financial need. “It about killed me.” About four years ago he walked into a pawn shop in West Monroe that he heard was owned by the same man he pawned his guitar to in Ruston. He found out the owner had died and left all the guitars in inventory to a niece. As providence would have it, his father’s gift was still there, and he was able to buy it back after a thirty-year absence.
Patterson has been told he’s a frantic player. He knows his music style is not for those hoping to sing along to what’s most popular on the radio. “A lot of people don’t want to hear me sing for three straight hours,” he jests, admitting his songs incorporate a lot of storytelling elements. “I probably could be chastised for overwriting songs.” Patterson writes about what he knows, the areas he’s lived in or stories he has been told or overheard. “I don’t use a lot of gentle dulcimers. It’s pretty much straight piano, guitar, bass guitar. It’s Americana stuff. I don’t hear those commercial melodies,” he says. Madden, who Patterson has played with for close to ten years, considers the song “Ten Foot of Water” on the 2011 album Daredevil “One of the best songs I’ve heard about Hurricane Katrina.” The ballad begins with drums, then an easygoing riff before the General’s commanding vocals recount the unprecedented tragedy of 2005: “Got ten foot of water, in a nine foot ceiling / A hole in my soul where the paint is peeling.”
His most recent record is Native American (2018), inspired by a trip he took to South Dakota with his wife, an homage to the place and some of his experiences there. Always having an admiration and love for indigenous culture and people, the discrimination and prejudice of Native Americans in that area floored him. He began to contemplate the term, finding his own understanding. “Being born here is what makes you a native American,” he affirms, adding “And I’m not a political person.” He aims to avoid conversations that could be alienating to others, yet he’s deeply saddened about cultural and racial divides: “It’s hard for me to even get in discussions about it.” Another point of contention for him has been the lack of female singers on stage. He mentions local players like Briana Calhoun and Bethany Raybourn, arguing that women should be getting as many gigs as male musicians. “I hope it picks up more,” he says.
Though Patterson has a long list of guitar greats he draws inspiration from, on the top of the heap is Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour. “He creates a solo in such an atmospheric way. In such a melodic way that all he does is just paint another beautiful layer on an already perfect canvas. It’s so freaking powerful. It’s like watching a swing dancer and a ballerina at the same time. It’s so graceful, yet it will just kill ya, cuz it’s so perfect,” he says. “I was a Carlos Santana freak,” he says, adding to the list Brian Setzer from the Stray Cats, the Allman Brothers, and Los Lobos.
His favorite songwriter is Jimmy Buffett. “People are probably going to laugh about that.” Patterson admires Buffett’s ability to write with levity. “Everything is tongue in cheek. Most of the things he writes about is how to turn a bad situation into a good situation,” he says. Bruce Springsteen is another of his favorites. Taking note of his 1973 album Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J., Patterson admires his ability to transport you to another place and time with solid story weaving. “He’s seventy years old and he can still outplay most people that are out there now. His band has to be out there the whole time, pretty much. And they’re busting it, and there’s no spring chicken to that group either,” he says, mentioning that too often younger musicians will discount old schoolers, even in the area: “Let me tell you something, man. Some of these old guys will guitar you into the dirt because they’re that good.” Patterson has heard some naive comments here and there from younger musicians. He encourages up-and-comers to garner more respect for the “older guys,” especially if they want to get a little bit further ahead of the curve. “A little respect goes a long way,” he says.
General Patterson has seen the local music scene go from weekly venue performances to the rise of the private party. Though he’d like to see more music venues open up, he admires local bands writing original music, mentioning Astro Motel and Jig the Alien. “The more original music, the more you have to choose from,” he says, hoping that original music gets its due in the area soon, especially since there are so many talented songwriters in the region. The path of a full-time musician is no easy trek. From the outside looking in, it’s romantic and counterculture, but Patterson warns “it’s one of the hardest jobs there is.” While some may not see it as a job, Patterson’s experience has proved otherwise. “I’ve done a lot of manual labor. Being a musician will wear you out mentally, because you’re trying to appeal to so many people,” he says. Though he encourages musicians not to quit their day job, he’s the kind of old school musician that’s willing to help keep you in line, if you’re willing to learn from his experience… and ready to try to keep up with his rapid fire expertise.

Show the General some love by listening to his albums, “Shackville,” “Daredevil,” and “Native American,” now on iTunes and Spotify.