Whether it's releasing new music, reuniting legendary lineups, launching ambitious side projects, or chasing down rare six-string treasures, Joe Bonamassa is a man who's used to burning the candle at both ends—but in 2025, he melts the whole damn thing down. With a blockbuster new album, 'Breakthrough' (out now worldwide), and a live calendar packed with everything from seven-piece rock shows and orchestral spectacles to a long-awaited Black Country Communion reunion tour—and a deeply personal tribute concert to Rory Gallagher to kick off the summer.
Joe takes some time from his relentless schedule to talk with Guitar Interactive's Jonathan Graham about the stories behind his most beloved guitars, why he passed on owning "Greeny," which axes are built for the road and which deserve museum glass, and how he handles the modern internet gauntlet.
Always a pleasure to see you, Joe. You have a new album, 'Breakthrough,' dropping, and your current live schedule sounds incredibly busy—even for you. Is that by design?
Yes and no. This tour's part one of a very long run over here that'll see everything from a regular seven-piece show to the reunion of Black Country Communion in tour form—which we haven't done in 15 years—an orchestra show, and a tribute to Rory Gallagher. All that's happening in the next 90 days!
Anytime we get to do Montreux Jazz Fest and North Sea and all those cool things we've done for 20 years, we jump at them. But the Rory Gallagher thing was pitched to us about a year ago: "Hey, would you be interested in doing something for the 30th anniversary of Rory's passing?" I said, "Yes, absolutely." Then I realized, "Oh my God, this is going to be a lot harder than I thought." But it'll be fun, something completely different. I haven't played that kind of full-out sonic attack since I was young, and that's going to be a challenge. I'm not Rory—I'm influenced by him but I'm not him, and what I'll do is just my version of his songs the best way we can.
There's always pressure when you step into an iconic player's shoes, but with social media chatter, do you feel you need to preempt criticism when you tackle other players' material? Satriani was unfairly criticized when he recently stepped in for Eddie Van Halen with Sammy Hagar.
No, I don't feel the need to preempt anything anymore. All it takes is a deep breath and a little critical thinking. Joe Satriani stepped into a situation where they're playing Van Halen songs with Sammy Hagar and Michael Anthony—and you're in the kill zone, you know? Van Halen's playing meant so much to so many, including me, that there's nothing Joe can do to mitigate someone saying, "Well, it's not the way Eddie would have played."
It's the way Joe Satriani, a bona fide legend, plays it. We have to get our heads around the fact that all of this is tactile. I've covered everyone from Clapton to Led Zeppelin to Gary Moore and it always comes out the way I would play it, not how they would play it—because I'm not those players. You're influenced by them, but it'd be strange if I just did carbon copies.
It's the same for anyone who tackles an icon—you're not saying you're doing it better, you're just doing it. If you do it with the right intentions, as a tribute, that's what matters. I'm not advertising this as "close your eyes and it'll sound exactly like Rory." It's my tribute, and I'm honoured to have been asked.
As for the Internet, I don't care anymore because the ones who shout loudest don't get the call. They didn't call you—they called me. If you want to get involved, you take the good with the bad. It'll be what it is, and I'm looking forward to it.
Let's talk about the orchestra show. Was blending your guitar with a 40-piece orchestra a challenge? Did you need to adjust your tone or approach to make it all fit sonically?
The first time we did it was at the Hollywood Bowl. We play loud. So when we tried to adapt that to an orchestra setting, it was challenging. At first, it was like, "You need to use a little amp." Finally, I said, "This is a guitar show," and the compromise was my rig went to the side, not on stage, so the audio people could mic cellos.
Now we have a protocol, a baseline of operation, and I think it'll be easier to fall back into that next time.
Part of the live show now is people looking forward to seeing which guitars you're bringing out with you. This tour you've got the Bonnie Strat on stage—what's the story behind that guitar?
I've had that guitar for 15 years. I bought it from Trevor Boone at Emerald City Guitars. He called and said, "I have the coolest 1955 Strat you've ever seen." He sent it to me, I plugged it in, and it just had an extra five percent—something special.
It's called Bonnie because, when we produced Reese's record in 2017, Bonnie Bramlett came in to sing. She had everyone carve their names into her guitar. Later, I asked her to sign mine. She brought a Dremel and carved her name and the date into the back of the Strat. Now it's forever known as the Bonnie Strat.
This year, because we built two setups for Europe/UK and America, it's leapfrogging, and that's challenging. So I said, "Let's bring Bonnie—maybe for the last run," because between that and the Nocaster, they're starting to wear out. Those two guitars will probably be retired in the next couple of years because they've seen thousands of gigs before me and with me.
You play so many vintage instruments, and people still bring them to shows for you to try out. What makes a guitar something you want to add to your collection?
I've seen and own a lot of guitars. I don't need six of everything. I try to fill gaps in my collection—like unicorns, things you don't see every day.
Most stuff I've bought in the last year or so, I look at differently than I did years ago. Back then, I wanted the cleanest, most preserved. Norman Harris taught me to buy the best of the best for value, but now I ask, "Do I have a use for this? Would it be cool to play live?"
If it's been modified in a cool way, that's the barometer. You'd never take a blackguard Telecaster and just jam a humbucker in it now, but if it was done way back and it's cool, that's special.
What made you want vintage instruments at age 14, when most kids wanted shredders or pointy guitars?
My father's love of them and the books at the time—A. R. Duchossoir, Tom Wheeler, Bill Blackburn, the Fender books. You'd see these patinas on the neck and Billy Gibbons playing them and think, "They don't make that anymore, do they?" I'd go through these books and idolise these things—they were so cool. It wasn't what was happening in the late '80s, but I was hooked. Now, even superstrats are becoming collectible.
Earlier this year, Gibson launched a 70th anniversary Les Paul Standard. I understand one of the rare colours was from a guitar you had—and they'd forgotten they used. Is that right?
Well, I have two, both built in 1955 originally. Between Gibson and myself—and just having that ledger entry—there was Samoan Beige, White, some other gold that wasn't standard gold, Viceroy Brown, and Copper Iridescent.
So, we had surmised that's what I was holding—the two I'd found—one was a Gibson employee guitar, one ended up in Yuma, Arizona, but also came from Minneapolis. Both of my original guitars originated in Minnesota, which makes sense regionally—that's where Gibson would send their stuff, like Indiana, Illinois, Minnesota, Iowa. All that stuff was around, just like Leo [Fender] would send a lot of his stuff through Fullerton and California and Arizona, so you see all this Fender stuff in the West Coast, Gibson was more Midwest, East Coast.
I was calling it Copper Iridescent so much so that my Epiphone, based on that guitar that came out a year and a half ago, was called the Joe B Copper Iridescent.
You've become something of a guitar historian?
You fill in the gaps and information sometimes gets corrupted over generations. It's important to know how the process worked.
If you get a '50s Fender in a solid colour and the finish is wonky, well, they were hand-built, but built in factories to standards.
Like, I have the first black Strat—a custom order for Howard Reed, who played with Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps. There's a photo of him playing it—no doubt what it is. Where info gets murky is when speculation meets hope—and hope means money.
Provenance is 95 percent—especially with unicorn guitars. You want that provenance locked up tight.
You had the chance to add "Greeny" to your collection—why did you pass?
"Greeny" wasn't for me. Guitars let you know when they're for you. And—truth be told—I think that guitar ended up, in one thousand percent without a doubt, with the person who loves it the most. That means more than anything else. Now, you're not going to find a bigger Peter Green fan than me, and you're not going to find a bigger Gary Moore fan than me. But at the time, how it was being presented to me was not the way I would want to remember that.
Did you like how it played?
It was fine. It was a Les Paul and it quacked in the middle. But, you know, give me five minutes and a screwdriver, I can make any Les Paul quack. You just—flip the magnet, it's quacking—but that's the one, you know.
Some people would want these iconic guitars behind glass in a museum rather than out on stage. Where do you stand?
Well, there's some of that. There are certain things that don't have to be beat up on the road, or just certain guitars. I have hundreds and hundreds and 90 percent of my collection are guitars that are so well preserved—not a screw has been changed, tagged-up photos of the guy or the original owner, all the great story, great provenance. I don't need to take that out here.
At the Brighton Center, you beat the hell out of these. Those things should be preserved and played in more of a controlled environment. Studios? Great. But when you talk in battle conditions, frets are important. I've had pieces of sunburst Les Paul just fall off, screws fall out—well, that's what happens when they're travelling every day. And so those don't need to be beat down, and I've known people that just get a guitar and a big fat belt buckle and go to my guitar—next thing you know, what happened? There's no right or wrong, for sure.
They are important pieces of history, but they're only important because of who played them and the songs that were written on them. That's the most important part about guitar. The only reason I love sunburst '50s Strats is because I thought those pictures of Buddy Holly were the coolest. Then you'd see Anson Funderburgh playing one—like, that's so cool. I was lucky to come up in the '80s and '90s when people were still in clubs playing old guitars because they weren't valuable. It's hard to find that now—someone who drags an old guitar out to a club gig. I have no problem with it.
Some of the new songs on 'Breakthrough' sound like you're flirting with country and Americana influences, and going in different directions.
Some songs, yeah. We've made enough blues-rock sludge over the years, so this time we focused on something a little different. I've always flirted with Americana, but then you fire up and there's a big fat guitar solo. Some studio versions don't have solos at all—either we forgot to put one on, or didn't care.
Final thing, Joe. Can you share some memories of playing Lucille back in your early days?
Which one though? B.B. always traveled with two. I have one of his old ones, signed by him, and they were stock until custom fingerboards were added. B.B. had a lot of Lucilles—the Argentine Gray dot neck with the Varitone, the walnut ones in the '70s, the red ones, and then the signature model in the late '70s, which was a solid 355. That's what he played till the end."
Joe Bonamassa's new album "Breakthrough" is out now on J&R Adventures.
For more information, visit jbonamassa.com
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