They came, they played, they disappeared for ages. Now Mountain have rejoined the academy of heavy rock. Leslie West gives Paul Colbert a geetar lesson, or twelve.

Work this out. The time between the day I was born and the day I first saw Mountain play is shorter than the time between the day I first saw Mountain play and the day I interviewed Leslie West.

In other words, he's been away for a while.

"I figured when I came back people would be looking at me through a microscope," rasped the guitarist, crushing an office chair until its foam squeaked. "Y'know, 'let's see what this fat guy can do today'."

What the fat guy did in the early seventies was front Mountain, an undeniably heavy, heavy-rock band. By 1975 there had been deaths (bassist Felix Pappalardi shot), tragedy and drugs.

What he does now is... front Mountain, a revitalised version, still with drummer Corky Laing, aided by new bass player Mark Clarke and just responsible for a new album "Go For Your Life."

"'75 was my last album. Then I went to the mid-West to get off heroin. If any kids are listening, here's my advice. 'Stay the fuck off it, it's poison.' I'm very lucky to be here talking about it. A lot of my friends are dead, I guess you know who they are, and it's all drugs or drug related."

He's absolutely right, of course, but if you sat and searched his face for signs of drug wear, you'd find few. He looks healthy, slightly thinner, perhaps a whisper of grey in the overspill of barnet, and is welcome proof that smack can be kicked.

He's also a walking celebration for anyone with only two fingers at their command.

"I never was fast," rasps a voice like born again sandpaper as he holds aloft an unexpectedly slim first and third finger. "I only use these but I've become a very good practiser. Four hours a day after ten years of sleeping. When I picked up the guitar again, I knew I had to work. I never do things half-assed. When I was a drug addict I was a real good one. Now I'm gonna be a real good guitarist."

The style hasn't changed, he reassures, but there's so much more you can do with the technology of amps and guitars today. The sound, yeah that's improved.

"On stage I use a Rockman with my Marshalls. I'm telling everyone my secrets, ah, so what... we put the Rockman, stereo, into a mult. box and put the Marshalls, stereo into a mult. box, and on stage I get the Rockman through the monitors and the Marshalls through the Marshalls."

I tell him about the new Rockman rack effects shown at Namm. He's tried them. They're brilliant. Not only are they brilliant, but he knows a great story about the inventor, Tom Scholz, which is probably unprintable.

There are some great guys around, he says. Rudy Schlacher, President of Washburn, is a great guy. "They asked if I was interested in doing something with Washburn guitars. They said they had one they were working on for me, and I could be involved with it, and they wanted to give me $40,000 worth of ads a year in magazines. But still, if the guitar wasn't right, you don't want to sell out." Absolutely.

It was right, "my suggestions were one volume and one tone. A lot of these guitars have so many switches. Like the BC Rich. If you're on stage and want a quick tone change, you need a computer expert to come on and do it for you."

Another proposition was the holy grail of countless guitars — one instrument that could sound like a Gibson AND a Fender. "I had them put two Stratocaster, single-coil pick-ups in by the neck and in the middle position, and a humbucker by the bridge, and then a five-way selector. It's all there and still only one volume and tone.

"Washburn are great. They gave me 14 guitars to give away for charities and stuff. I gave one away the other night with Deep Purple. I'm making the speech saying I'm gonna donate it tomorrow, and like Corky always throws 30 pairs of sticks to the audience each night, and suddenly one of them comes back 'ppsshheeww', almost hits Corky so I said, ah fuck it, and threw the guitar into the crowd without picking a winner. The guy who got it, the rest of the crowd beat the crap out of this one kid, he had stitches, so we took him backstage. That's what Ritchie (Blackmore) found out a long time ago. Don't do it. Even if you throw a guitar gently, the crowd waits for one kid to catch it, then they're all over him like a cheap suit."

Three months ago, Leslie West met Larry DiMarzio and decided: "he's another great guy. He has all women winding his pick-ups because their fingers are so dainty."

They designed a pick-up together. "Pink and black it is, it's nice. Larry builds power into his pick-ups automatically, but I found the best he had was an Al Dimeola autographed model. Dimeola is into jack/rock/fusion where tone's very important, and it is to me, too, so we took half of what he had and half of what Larry put into his PAF design, and that was it."

The question of power crops up again when Leslie West is turning the newly arrived Washburn HM-5 (see pic) over in his hands, it looks like a matchstick in a lathe.

"What's important is the space between the pickup and the string. Some magnets are so powerful that if you get them close to the strings, the pull will stop the strings vibrating freely and you lose sustain. I drop the pickups down, and the sustain's much better."

Now if you're Ritchie Blackmore, what matters is the space between the string and the fingerboard. He has the wood routed out between the frets "like little canoes, so he can play like a sitar." West tried it, but decided he was too heavy handed. Ritchie Blackmore, like DiMarzio's women "has dainty fingers".

"A lot of people don't like Ritchie Blackmore. But he feels he has nothing to say apart from what he says with his guitar. People misunderstand shyness for conceit. He's not arrogant at all." This is from a man who's played support to their half-million-punter strong tour of America. So he should know.

"Some people have a great lead sound and shitty rhythm," continues Mr West, "and some have great rhythm and no lead".

And yourself?

For me lead and backing have to feel like they're coming from the same person. My leads come from the chords — notes within the chords that I'm playing.

"If I'm recording I try not to do all the solos on the same day, because they all sound the same. I try to see a song all the way through — do the rhythm, take it home, put the vocals on, and then the lead. I don't like to wait for three weeks.

"When we did 'Theme From An Imaginary Western' on 'Mountain' (the original album) Felix had taught me that each chord has a relative minor. 'Theme' was in A, and I was going to do the solo, and straight away I went to the fifth fret.

"Felix said no, pretend you're playing blues in F sharp minor, which is the relative minor for A. For me, the light went on, that changed my life — learn another place to play, think blues and let the chords do the work. These days I always check the relative minor before I even start."

I mention that one elegant technique which appears occasionally on 'Go For Your Life' is a swift tap on the tremolo arm to drop the pitch of a single note.

"Hey, I'm glad you picked up on that. A lot of people think I'm playing slide. Really I just smack the trem stick, but I have my own thing with it. Most guys go down and then back up. I just go down, stop, cut the volume and come back up when no one can hear it.

"I don't need it for vibrato. Vibrato I can do with my hand. I've worked on that morning, noon and night. To me it's like an opera voice. Some guys just turn it on, they push the string up and then start the vibrato. They hit a button. But if you listen to a singer, he builds up to it slowly, like a motor.

"It's in the wrist, you should start it slowly, and you've got to bring the note back to the point you started from, keep the wrist loose. Don't just stretch a note and put all the vibrato at the top.

"And the other thing I do is get octave jumps with the pick. You pluck the string with it, then hit the string again with the edge of your thumb all in the same movement. "It squeaks." (For further details and a closer analysis, see this month's OTT feature on harmonics).

And with that our hero was up, the foam cushions breathed and again and we wandered back to the spot in the middle of John Henry's rehearsal studio where the studio dog had pooped on the floor, requiring several spools of kitchen towel to clear the debris.

"Hey," parted Mr West, "I don't think I've seen your magazine before, how long's it been around?"

About two years. When were you last here?

"I think it was '73".

Well, that might explain it.