Brian Robertson Guitars & Gear: The Complete Guide to Thin Lizzy’s Wildest Guitarist’s Rig

There are guitarists who define a band’s sound, and then there are guitarists who define a band’s danger. Brian Robertson — “Robbo” to anyone who’s spent more than thirty seconds in his orbit — was both. As one half of Thin Lizzy’s most iconic twin-guitar partnership alongside Scott Gorham, Robertson helped construct some of the most thrilling, harmonically sophisticated guitar work in the history of hard rock. As a personality, he was a combustible, brilliant, stubbornly Scottish force of nature who clashed with bandmates, sustained a hand injury that accelerated his exit at precisely the moment the band was hitting its peak, then went on to join Motörhead — wearing ballet shoes and satin shorts, because of course he did — and briefly make Lemmy genuinely consider whether “more musical” was actually what Motörhead wanted to be. Spoiler: it wasn’t. But we’ll get there.

Robertson was born on February 12, 1956, in Clarkston, Renfrewshire, Scotland — which, if you’re keeping track, makes him both the youngest and the only Scotsman in the classic Thin Lizzy lineup that also included an American (Gorham), an Irish bassist/vocalist (Phil Lynott), and an Irish drummer (Brian Downey). He was, by all accounts, a precociously gifted musician from the start: before he ever picked up an electric guitar, he had studied cello and classical piano for eight years. That’s not an insignificant detail. The harmonic awareness, the melodic sophistication, the ability to think about guitar lines in terms of how they function within a larger musical structure — all of that has roots in classical training that most rock guitarists never had. When Robertson finally made the leap to guitar, he brought that musical intelligence with him, filtered through a genuine love of hard rock, blues, and the kind of crunchy Les Paul tone that makes the back of your skull vibrate.

He joined Thin Lizzy in 1974 alongside Scott Gorham — both hired simultaneously to replace the departed Eric Bell (and Gary Moore, who had briefly filled the gap). Robertson was eighteen years old. Eighteen. And he was already playing with the authority of someone a decade older, crafting guitar parts that were melodically inventive, harmonically sophisticated, and tonally aggressive in a way that perfectly complemented Gorham’s warmer, smoother approach. The contrast between the two guitarists was not a weakness — it was the entire point. Robertson’s bite against Gorham’s warmth, Robertson’s bluesy aggression against Gorham’s melodic finesse, created a tension in the music that was genuinely exciting. You could hear both guitars as distinct personalities, interacting and responding, rather than just two identical instruments doubling each other.

The tone Robertson brought to that partnership was the sharper, more cutting edge of the Thin Lizzy sound. Where Gorham dialed in more treble and a warmer, rounded quality, Robertson set his amp EQ relatively neutral and let the natural character of a Les Paul into a cranked Marshall Super Lead do the work — punchy, articulate, with just enough mid-forward presence to cut through a dense band mix without losing its fundamental warmth. Add his absolute mastery of the Colorsound wah pedal — swirled and sculpted into some of the most vocal, expressive wah work in 1970s rock — and you had a guitar voice that was instantly recognizable. If Gorham was the heart of the Lizzy twin-guitar attack, Robertson was its fire.

He was with the band for four full years — contributing to Nightlife (1974), Fighting (1975), Jailbreak (1976), Johnny the Fox (1976), and Bad Reputation (1977), plus the legendary live document Live and Dangerous (1978) — before a combination of creative clashes with Phil Lynott and a serious hand injury brought his tenure to an end. He went on to form Wild Horses with Jimmy Bain and Jimmy McCulloch, then had his extraordinary Motörhead adventure, and has remained an active if somewhat peripatetic presence in rock music ever since. His legacy, though, rests squarely on those four years in Thin Lizzy, and on the gear he used to help create one of rock history’s most enduring sonic signatures.

Background: The Wild Boy from Clarkston Who Helped Invent an Art Form

Understanding Brian Robertson’s contribution to the guitar requires understanding what he was doing differently from everyone else at the time. In 1974, the twin-guitar approach in rock was still a relatively undeveloped idea. The Allman Brothers had shown what two guitars could do in a blues-rock context, with Duane Allman and Dickey Betts weaving around each other in Southern-fried counterpoint. But what Robertson and Gorham developed was something harder, more compositionally deliberate, and more harmonically structured. Their guitar lines weren’t improvised interplay — they were arranged, written-out harmonized melodies, constructed with the same attention to counterpoint that you’d find in classical composition. Which makes sense, given that Robertson had spent eight years studying the cello and piano before he ever touched a guitar neck.

Robertson has been forthright about the creative dynamic within the classic lineup. He and Phil Lynott clashed — two strong personalities with definite ideas about how music should sound, and insufficient patience for compromise. Gorham was more collaborative, more willing to subordinate his own preferences to the good of the song. Robertson was not. He was fiercely confident in his musical instincts — the kind of confidence that produces great art and difficult relationships in roughly equal measure. In a recent interview, Robertson addressed his departure directly: he and Lynott had “definite ideas about how certain songs should be done,” and when those ideas collided, neither was inclined to yield. The hand injury he sustained — which became one of the most-cited official reasons for his Lizzy exit — accelerated a departure that creative friction had already made likely.

The hand injury itself is worth addressing because it’s become somewhat mythologized in Thin Lizzy lore. Robertson cut his hand in an incident at a London club in 1977, and the damage was significant enough that he was unable to play for several weeks. Gary Moore stepped in to cover live dates during this period, and by the time Robertson was recovered, the dynamics within the band had shifted. Lynott used the opportunity to fill in some of the gaps Robertson had left — and Robertson was particularly struck, upon returning to rehearsals, that no harmonic guitar parts had been prepared in his absence. “Nobody had bothered to fill the space,” he noted, and the implication was clear: the departure was already half-decided before anyone formally acknowledged it.

His subsequent move to Motörhead in 1982 — replacing Fast Eddie Clarke on a US tour — produced one of rock history’s most entertainingly incongruous pairings. Robertson, with his classical training, his ear for melody, and his apparent wardrobe choices (the ballet shoes and satin shorts at Motörhead shows remain legendary), brought a musical sophistication to a band whose entire identity was built on maximum volume and minimum ornamentation. Lemmy himself acknowledged that Robertson was technically a better guitarist than Clarke — “more musical” was the phrase — while also recognizing that “more musical” was not, in the end, what Motörhead needed. Robertson played on the 1983 album Another Perfect Day, which has subsequently been reappraised more generously than its initial reception suggested, and then departed after the subsequent tour. He and drummer Phil Taylor went on to form the short-lived band Operator. His Motörhead era was strange, brief, and oddly wonderful, much like Robertson himself.

What Robertson proved, across all of his career phases, is that a guitarist with genuine musical depth and a great tone will always find something interesting to play, regardless of context. Whether in the harmonic sophistication of classic Thin Lizzy, the melodically ambitious hard rock of Wild Horses, or even the detuned aggression of Motörhead, Robertson’s musical personality comes through with unmistakable clarity. That personality starts with the gear.

The Rig: Brian Robertson’s Guitars, Amps, and Effects

Guitars

Gibson Les Paul Deluxe (1973 Sunburst — Primary Thin Lizzy Era Guitar)
Robertson’s main weapon throughout the classic Thin Lizzy recordings — Nightlife, Fighting, Jailbreak, Johnny the Fox, Bad Reputation, and Live and Dangerous — was a 1973 Gibson Les Paul Deluxe in a sunburst finish, equipped with the model’s characteristic mini-humbucker pickups. This is the guitar you hear on virtually every note Robertson played during the band’s most celebrated period. Like his twin-guitar partner Gorham, Robertson had identified the Les Paul Deluxe as the right tool for the job: the mini-humbuckers’ brighter, more articulate character compared to full-size humbuckers gave the harmonized guitar lines the separation and definition they needed to work in a dense live and recording context. The two guitars — Gorham’s and Robertson’s respective Les Paul Deluxes — could sit side-by-side in the mix without one swamping the other, each voice distinct and identifiable. The 1973 Deluxe was Robertson’s constant companion through the golden Lizzy years, and its sunburst finish can be identified in countless live photographs and performance footage from the period. It was, by any measure, a phenomenal choice for the role he needed it to fill.

Gibson Les Paul Deluxe (Modified — Post-PAF Era)
After the core of the classic Thin Lizzy recordings were completed, Robertson modified his Les Paul Deluxe by routing the body to accept full-size humbuckers and installing 1959-era PAF (Patent Applied For) pickups — the highly sought-after original Gibson humbuckers from the late 1950s that have become among the most coveted guitar components in the vintage market. The 1959 PAFs produce a warmer, thicker, more complex tone than the mini-humbuckers of the standard Deluxe, with a musical compression and harmonic richness that no modern pickup has quite replicated. This modification essentially transformed the Deluxe body — with its slightly lighter construction compared to a Standard — into a hybrid instrument: Deluxe dimensions and feel, Standard-and-then-some tone. The result was a guitar with even more tonal depth and sustain than the stock Deluxe, and Robertson used this modified instrument in live work and later recordings.

Gibson Les Paul Custom (1960)
Robertson also played a 1960 Gibson Les Paul Custom, as documented in the Guitar Geek rig diagrams from his 1974 Thin Lizzy period. The Les Paul Custom — sometimes called the “Black Beauty” for its most common finish — is distinguished from the Standard and Deluxe by its ebony fretboard (rather than rosewood), its multi-ply binding, and (in the 1960 version) a slimmer neck profile. It typically came equipped with two or three full-size humbucking pickups. The Custom’s ebony board gives the neck a slightly different feel and tone compared to rosewood — marginally brighter, with a smoother playing surface — and the overall construction tends toward a slightly more refined character. Robertson’s use of a 1960 Custom alongside his primary 1973 Deluxe gave him a different tonal option while staying within the Les Paul family that defined his sound.

Gibson Les Paul Standard (Ebony Black — Late Thin Lizzy Era)
Robertson acquired an ebony black Les Paul Standard toward the end of his Thin Lizzy tenure — reportedly in late 1977, by which point the core classic recordings were already complete. This guitar, with its full-size humbuckers and elegant black finish, became associated with Robertson’s live work in his final period with Lizzy and in some of his subsequent projects. The black Standard’s full-size humbuckers produce a thicker, warmer tone than the mini-humbuckers of the Deluxe, and the aesthetic contrast — black guitar, rock star, cranked Marshall — couldn’t be more perfectly on-brand for Robertson’s larger-than-life stage presence.

Fender Stratocaster
Robertson has been documented playing a Fender Stratocaster in certain contexts — notably in the music video for the Thin Lizzy track “That Woman’s Gonna Break Your Heart.” The Strat represents a significant tonal departure from the Les Paul-based sound that defines Robertson’s legacy, and its appearance in his arsenal is probably best understood as a situational choice for specific sonic textures rather than a fundamental shift in his guitar identity. The Stratocaster’s three single-coil pickups produce a brighter, thinner, more chiming sound than any Les Paul variant, and there are contexts — clean passages, lighter-touch rhythm work — where that quality serves a song better than a humbucker-equipped guitar. For chasing the classic Thin Lizzy tone, though, the Strat is a detour from the main road.

Amps

Marshall 100-Watt Super Lead Plexi (Primary Classic Thin Lizzy Amp)
Robertson’s core tone during the Thin Lizzy years came from Marshall 100-watt Super Lead amplifiers — the same pre-master-volume, EL34-powered heads that fueled the entire hard rock movement of the 1970s. These were the amps that Jimmy Page used to record Led Zeppelin, that Pete Townshend played at ear-bleeding concert volumes, that defined the sound of a decade. Robertson plugged into the upper left input of his Super Lead heads — a detail that matters to tone nerds because the different inputs on a Plexi-era Marshall have subtly different gain and frequency response characteristics, and the upper left typically produces a slightly different quality of crunch than the upper right. In later years with Thin Lizzy, Robertson was running three Super Lead heads simultaneously — a setup that provided massive volume, enormous tonal authority, and the kind of stage presence that fills an arena with warm, harmonically saturated guitar sound. No master volume, no preamp gain knob, just the natural physics of a valve output stage being driven to its natural limits. The EL34 tubes compress and saturate in a musically beautiful way when pushed hard, producing harmonics and a bloom that no solid-state or modeling alternative has ever quite captured.

Carlsbro Amplifier (Jailbreak Recording Sessions)
One of the more obscure and interesting entries in Robertson’s amp history is the Carlsbro amplifier that reportedly featured in the recording sessions for Jailbreak — the album that produced “The Boys Are Back in Town” and established Thin Lizzy as a major commercial force. Carlsbro was a British amplifier manufacturer based in Nottingham, primarily known for making affordable, reliable amps that found their way into rehearsal studios and pub gigs across the UK. On the surface, it seems like a strange choice for a major label album recording — but the Carlsbro’s particular tonal character apparently contributed something useful to the session sound that the Marshalls alone didn’t provide. This is a detail that separates serious tone research from casual biography: the fact that one of rock history’s most celebrated guitar albums was partly recorded through an unassuming British budget amplifier is the kind of pleasingly counter-intuitive truth that only emerges when you dig past the surface mythology.

Mesa/Boogie Dual Rectifier (Post-Thin Lizzy)
In his later career, Robertson used Mesa/Boogie Dual Rectifier amplifiers — a significant departure from the pure British valve sound of his Thin Lizzy era. The Dual Rectifier, one of Mesa/Boogie’s most celebrated designs, uses different rectifier tubes in combination with EL34 or 6L6 output stages to produce a heavier, more compressed gain structure than a Plexi-style Marshall. Its sound is defined by thick, spongy distortion, scooped midrange, and enormous low-end presence — the amp that helped define the American heavy metal and alternative metal sound of the 1990s. Robertson’s exploration of the Rectifier reflects the pragmatic evolution of a working guitarist who continues to develop his sound rather than fossilizing at the moment of his greatest commercial success.

Motörhead Era: Marshall Stacks
During his year with Motörhead (1982–1983), Robertson used Marshall stack configurations appropriate for the band’s notoriously loud live context. Motörhead’s live volume was legendary — Lemmy’s bass was essentially running at guitar-amp levels, and the overall stage volume in that band would have peeled paint. Robertson’s Marshall stacks in this context were running harder than anything he’d experienced in Thin Lizzy, and the resulting tone — heard on Another Perfect Day — is harder, rawer, and more aggressive than the harmonically sophisticated Lizzy recordings, appropriate for the sonic environment he was operating in.

Effects

Colorsound Wah Wah (Most Iconic Pedal — Signature Sound)
If Brian Robertson is associated with one piece of gear above all others, it’s the Colorsound Wah Wah — a British-made pedal from the London-based electronics company Sola Sound (who marketed their effects under the Colorsound name). The Colorsound wah has a distinctly different character from the Dunlop Crybaby or Vox Wah that dominated American and European markets: its frequency sweep is different, its resonant peak is positioned differently, and the overall result is a more vocal, more expressive, slightly more midrange-forward wah sound that perfectly suited Robertson’s aggressive, bluesy approach. He used it not just as a conventional wah — foot rocking back and forth for that classic talking-guitar effect — but also in a “cocked” position, held at a specific frequency to create a filtered tone color that added character to his rhythm and lead work without a rhythmic wah motion. This cocked-wah technique — essentially using the pedal as a fixed filter — became one of the most recognizable elements of Robertson’s tone. On tracks from Jailbreak and Live and Dangerous, you can hear it clearly: that slightly nasal, vocal quality that sets his guitar parts apart from Gorham’s warmer, more open sound. The Colorsound’s British heritage was particularly well-suited to the EL34 Marshall tone Robertson was running — the two pieces of equipment share a tonal DNA that makes them naturally complementary.

Watkins Copicat Tape Echo (Two Units in Series)
Robertson ran not one but two Watkins Copicat tape echo units in series — a setup that produced a lush, warm tape-based delay effect with more complex repeat patterns than a single unit could provide. The Copicat is a British-made tape echo device, built by Charlie Watkins and produced from the 1950s onwards, that uses a loop of magnetic tape to record and play back the guitar signal with a natural delay. Unlike digital delay pedals, tape echo introduces a gentle degradation with each repeat — the delayed signal gets slightly darker, slightly warmer, slightly more diffuse with each repetition — and the result has a musical quality that digital delays struggle to replicate. Running two Copicats in series means the output of the first unit feeds the input of the second, creating a more complex echo pattern with additional harmonic interaction between the two tape loops. The resulting sound is thick, organic, and atmospheric in a way that was perfect for the live context Robertson was operating in — adding spatial depth and dimension to his guitar tone without the clinical precision of digital delay.

MXR Phase 90 (Classic Era Modulation)
Like his guitar partner Scott Gorham, Robertson used an MXR Phase 90 during the Thin Lizzy years — the ubiquitous four-stage phaser that colored so much of 1970s rock guitar. Robertson’s Phase 90 usage was broadly similar to Gorham’s: a subtle, slow phasing effect that added texture and harmonic depth to the guitar tone without dominating it. The two Phase 90s running simultaneously through the respective amps created a combined modulation effect that contributed to the distinctive shimmer of the twin-guitar arrangement — a quality that you particularly notice on the Jailbreak and Live and Dangerous recordings when you’re listening for it. Along with various other MXR phaser models he explored in the 1970s, the Phase 90 was Robertson’s primary modulation tool.

Dunlop Crybaby Wah (Secondary/Alternative Wah)
In addition to his primary Colorsound Wah, Robertson also used a Dunlop Crybaby at certain points — the Crybaby being one of the most widespread wah pedals in rock history, based on the original Thomas Organ Company Cry Baby circuit that has been in continuous production since the 1960s. The Crybaby has a broader, slightly more aggressive frequency sweep than the Colorsound, and a different resonant character. For a guitarist who used the wah not just as an effect but as a fundamental tonal color, having access to two different wah voicings gave Robertson additional flexibility: the Colorsound for its distinctive British character and cocked-wah tones, the Crybaby for passages where a broader, more conventional wah sweep was appropriate.

Strings: Standard Gauge — Gibson-Style Medium Sets
Robertson’s string gauge preferences were not as well-documented as Gorham’s enthusiastic endorsement of Ernie Ball .009s, but his tone and playing approach suggest heavier gauges than his guitar partner favored. The tension and attack characteristic of his rhythm playing, the way his bends have a slightly stiffer, more committed quality than Gorham’s smoother lines, and the general tonal characteristics of his recorded sound are all consistent with .010 or .011 gauge strings — heavier sets that provide more resistance, slightly more tonal mass, and a different feel under the fingers. Robertson’s background in classical instruments — instruments that demand precise intonation and physical commitment — likely influenced his preference for strings that offer more physical feedback than the lightest available gauges.

Playing Style & Tone Philosophy

Brian Robertson plays hard rock with a blues guitarist’s soul and a classical musician’s brain. That combination — technically informed, emotionally committed, never cold — is what makes his work on the Thin Lizzy classics so enduringly powerful. His lead lines have the quality of speech: they say something specific, with emphasis and phrasing and dynamic variation, rather than merely demonstrating technical capability. On “The Boys Are Back in Town,” the solo Robertson contributes is a masterclass in melodic economy — every note earns its place, the phrasing matches the song’s emotional temperature, and the tone sings in that particular warm-but-incisive way that only a cranked Marshall and a well-chosen Les Paul can produce.

His wah work deserves particular attention because it was genuinely innovative for the era. The cocked-wah technique — using the Colorsound as a fixed tonal filter rather than a dynamic effect — was not something most guitarists of the period were doing. It produced a guitar sound with a specific midrange emphasis and a slightly nasal, vocal quality that added an immediately recognizable color to Robertson’s parts. When you can identify a guitarist’s tone from three notes before you’ve even registered who’s playing, that’s the mark of a genuinely distinctive voice, and Robertson’s wah-filtered tone is exactly that. Combined with the two Watkins Copicats running in series — their tape-degraded, atmospherically warm repeats thickening and widening the sound — Robertson’s live guitar tone was arguably even more impressive than the studio recordings. Those Live and Dangerous performances capture a player at the absolute peak of his powers, running gear that was perfectly calibrated to his musical personality.

Rhythmically, Robertson is a groove player with a hard edge — his right hand has the authority and rhythmic precision you’d associate with someone who had internalized classical training deeply enough to make it unconscious. He doesn’t swing in the jazz sense, but there’s a sophistication in his rhythmic placement that elevates his playing above pure rock primitivism. He knows exactly where to place a chord in the bar, when to anticipate the beat and when to sit behind it, how to create tension and release through rhythmic articulation rather than just harmonic movement. This is not an accident; it’s the direct product of years of musical training applied to an electric guitar in a rock band context. The result is rhythm playing that sounds deceptively simple and is actually quite complex — the hallmark of a genuinely musical guitarist rather than a technically proficient one.

Robertson has acknowledged the influence of Jimmy Page on his approach — the pentatonic-based rock vocabulary, the sense of drama in solo construction, the willingness to use space and silence as deliberately as notes. The Allman Brothers’ twin-guitar interplay was clearly in both Robertson’s and Gorham’s musical DNA, even if their execution was distinctly different from the Allmans’ blues-based approach. What Robertson and Gorham added to those influences was a specifically Celtic harmonic sensibility — the modal minor chord progressions, the tendency toward melancholy resolution — that reflected their immersion in Phil Lynott’s songwriting world. The result was something that sounded simultaneously American, British, and Irish: a genuinely original synthesis.

How to Sound Like Brian Robertson

Chasing the Robertson tone requires the same fundamental ingredients as chasing any great 1970s British hard rock sound: a Les Paul (specifically a Deluxe with mini-humbuckers if you’re after the exact Jailbreak-era character), a cranked Marshall Super Lead or equivalent EL34-powered amp, and a quality wah pedal. The Robertson-specific additions are the tape echo — ideally a Watkins Copicat or a high-quality tape echo simulation — and the Colorsound wah voicing. The amp should be set relatively neutral on the EQ — Robertson didn’t dial in the extreme treble boost that some contemporary players used. The character of the tone comes from the Les Paul’s natural voice combined with the Marshall’s natural saturation, not from dramatic EQ sculpting.

The cocked-wah technique is the most distinctive Robertson-specific element and the hardest to get right. Set the wah pedal to a position approximately two-thirds forward from heel — roughly where the midrange emphasis peaks in a nasal, vocal frequency range — and leave it there. Don’t rock it back and forth. Use it as a filter, not an effect. If it sounds like it’s talking slightly, you’re in the right zone. Combine this with the tape echo — longer repeat time than you might initially think, set with enough feedback to hear two or three distinct repeats, mix level at around 30-40% — and the Phase 90 on its slowest setting, and you’re in the Robertson tonal universe.

Influence & Legacy

Brian Robertson’s influence on rock guitar is embedded in the music in ways that are easier to hear than to articulate. Any guitarist who uses a wah pedal as a fixed filter rather than a dynamic effect owes Robertson a debt. Any twin-guitar band that constructs written harmonic melodies rather than relying on improvisational interplay is drawing from the same well Robertson and Gorham were digging in 1974. And any hard rock player who has learned that classical musical training — harmonic awareness, melodic sophistication, an understanding of counterpoint — can be applied to electric guitar in a way that deepens rather than softens the rock impact has, consciously or not, validated the approach Robertson embodied from the beginning of his career.

The Thin Lizzy twin-guitar template that Robertson helped construct has proven to be one of the most durable and widely copied approaches in rock. Iron Maiden’s harmonized twin-guitar attack — explicitly acknowledged as Lizzy-influenced by the band — owes a direct debt to Robertson and Gorham’s work. Virtually every NWOBHM band that features two guitarists is working from the same blueprint. More recently, bands across the melodic rock, hard rock revival, and even certain corners of extreme metal have returned to the same fundamental approach: two distinct guitar voices, arranged in written harmonic counterpoint, serving the song’s melodic and emotional content. For an in-depth look at how Iron Maiden developed this approach into one of metal’s most iconic sounds, see Dave Murray’s twin-guitar philosophy at #26. The connection between Robertson’s Thin Lizzy work and later twin-guitar metal is also explored through Scott Gorham’s legacy discussion at #1. And for the Scottish hard rock tradition Robertson helped establish, the story continues with Michael Schenker’s approach to British hard rock guitar at #9.

What separates Robertson from guitarists who were merely very good is a quality of musical intelligence that can’t be faked or technically achieved — it either comes through in the playing or it doesn’t. His eight years of classical training before he ever plugged in an electric guitar gave him a musical foundation that most rock players simply don’t have, and it shows in every harmonized melody line he contributed to the Thin Lizzy recordings. The fact that he was doing this at eighteen and nineteen years old — constructing sophisticated harmonic guitar arrangements for one of rock’s most demanding musical environments — makes it even more remarkable. He was simultaneously the wildest, most combustible personality in the Thin Lizzy orbit and the most classically trained musician. That contradiction, that tension between discipline and chaos, might be the most Brian Robertson thing about Brian Robertson — and it’s exactly what made him great.

Frequently Asked Questions: Brian Robertson Guitars & Gear

What guitar did Brian Robertson use with Thin Lizzy?
Robertson’s primary guitar throughout the classic Thin Lizzy recordings — from Nightlife (1974) through Live and Dangerous (1978) — was a 1973 Gibson Les Paul Deluxe in a sunburst finish, equipped with the model’s distinctive mini-humbucker pickups. These smaller pickups produce a brighter, more articulate tone than full-size humbuckers, which was essential for the clarity of Thin Lizzy’s harmonized twin-guitar arrangements — two guitars needed to be heard as distinct voices rather than blending into a thick, undifferentiated mass. Later in his time with the band, Robertson modified this guitar by routing the body to accept full-size 1959 PAF humbuckers, transforming its tonal character toward greater warmth and depth. He also played a 1960 Gibson Les Paul Custom and acquired a black Les Paul Standard toward the end of the Thin Lizzy era. The Les Paul family was his constant: consistent, powerful, and perfectly suited to the cranked Marshall environment he was operating in.

What amps did Brian Robertson use?
During the Thin Lizzy years, Robertson’s core amplification was the Marshall 100-watt Super Lead — the same pre-master-volume, EL34-powered head that defined 1970s British hard rock. He plugged into the upper left input of his Super Lead heads and ran them wide open, letting the natural power-amp saturation of the EL34 output stage provide the overdrive and harmonic richness. In later years with Lizzy, he was running three Super Lead heads simultaneously for maximum volume and authority. A Carlsbro amplifier also reportedly featured in the Jailbreak recording sessions — an interesting curveball from an otherwise orthodox Marshall story. In post-Lizzy work, Robertson explored Mesa/Boogie Dual Rectifier amps, reflecting the evolution of his tonal preferences through the 1980s and beyond.

What is the Colorsound wah and why is it associated with Brian Robertson?
The Colorsound Wah Wah is a British-made effects pedal from the London company Sola Sound, marketed under their Colorsound brand name. It has a distinctive tonal character that differs from the more familiar Dunlop Crybaby or Vox Wah: its frequency sweep and resonant peak are positioned differently, producing a more vocal, more midrange-forward sound with a particularly expressive quality for blues and hard rock playing. Robertson used the Colorsound as both a conventional wah (rocking back and forth for the standard wah-wah effect on leads) and as a “cocked” filter — set at a fixed frequency position to create a permanent tonal color rather than a dynamic effect. This cocked-wah approach gave Robertson’s rhythm and lead tones a distinctive nasal, vocal quality that became immediately recognizable. On classic Thin Lizzy recordings, you can identify Robertson’s parts partly by this Colorsound character — a slightly filtered, midrange-emphasized tone that sits differently in the mix compared to Gorham’s more open, unfiltered sound.

Why did Brian Robertson leave Thin Lizzy?
Robertson’s departure from Thin Lizzy in 1978 resulted from a combination of factors. Creative friction with Phil Lynott — two strong-willed musicians with “definite ideas” about how songs should sound — had been building throughout the latter years of the classic lineup. A serious hand injury sustained in 1977 (Robertson cut his hand in an incident at a London club) accelerated the timeline, requiring Robertson to sit out live dates while Gary Moore covered for him. When Robertson returned and found that no harmonic guitar parts had been prepared in his absence — that nobody had “bothered to fill the space” — the message was fairly clear. Robertson subsequently went on to form Wild Horses with Jimmy Bain and Jimmy McCulloch, while Thin Lizzy eventually recruited Gary Moore permanently (and later John Sykes).

Why did Brian Robertson join Motörhead, and how did it go?
Robertson joined Motörhead in 1982 as a replacement for Fast Eddie Clarke, who had departed during the Iron Fist US tour. Drummer Phil Taylor — a huge Thin Lizzy fan — had lobbied Lemmy to hire Robertson, and Lemmy was reportedly impressed by Robertson’s technical ability, describing him as “more musical” than Clarke. The pairing produced one album — 1983’s Another Perfect Day — which has been reassessed more generously by fans and critics in the years since its mixed initial reception. However, Robertson’s musical personality was fundamentally at odds with the Motörhead ethos: he was too sophisticated, too melody-oriented, and apparently too willing to express those qualities visually (the ballet shoes and satin shorts remain legendary in rock folklore). Lemmy later reflected that Robertson was technically superior to Clarke but ultimately “not right for Motörhead.” Robertson departed after the subsequent tour, with Phil Taylor, to form the short-lived band Operator.

What made the Robertson-Gorham twin-guitar partnership work?
The Robertson-Gorham partnership succeeded because of the musical contrast between the two players. Gorham brought warmth, smoothness, and a groove-oriented rhythm approach — more treble dialed in, a rounder tone, the patient melodic anchor. Robertson brought bite, aggression, and a classical musician’s harmonic awareness — a slightly punchier, more mid-forward tone, the cocked-wah filtered color, the tape echo atmosphere. Neither was trying to be the dominant voice; both were serving the song’s harmonic and emotional architecture. What made them great, specifically, was that their guitar parts were arranged, not improvised — written-out harmonized melodies constructed with compositional care, not just two players noodling in the same key. Robertson’s classical training gave him the vocabulary to write those parts with genuine harmonic sophistication, while Gorham’s groove sensibility kept them inside the song’s rhythmic and emotional framework. The combination was greater than either guitarist individually.

What strings did Brian Robertson use?
Robertson’s specific string gauge preferences during the Thin Lizzy era are not as thoroughly documented as some other aspects of his rig. Unlike his guitar partner Scott Gorham, who was very public about his preference for Ernie Ball .009–.042 Super Slinkys, Robertson didn’t extensively discuss his string choices in interviews. Based on the tonal characteristics and playing feel evident in recordings and live performances — the firm, committed quality of his bends, the punch and authority of his rhythm playing — his choices were likely in the .010 or .011 range, consistent with the heavier gauges that many Les Paul players favor for added tonal weight and string tension. Robertson’s background in classical stringed instruments (cello in particular) likely gave him a comfort with higher-tension strings than guitarists with no such background might prefer. His tone and technique both suggest a player who wanted physical feedback and resistance from his strings, not the path-of-least-resistance approach of lighter gauges.