“You could do 13 minutes of guitar improvisation and they'd thank you for it!” Hail Peter Frampton!

When you buy through links on our articles, Future and its syndication partners may earn a commission.

“Everybody in the world has Frampton Comes Alive,” says Wayne Campbell in Wayne’s World 2. “If you lived in the suburbs you were issued it. It came in the mail with samples of Tide.”

The ubiquity of Peter Frampton’s 1976 double live release sometimes overshadows his other output, but the Frampton catalogue is rich with stunning guitar work.

His induction to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame on 19 October included a triumphant jam with Keith Urban.

Here are five of Peter's greatest moments, beginning with a live banger from his days in Humble Pie...

Four Day Creep (Rockin’ the Fillmore, 1971)

Although Frampton was influenced by the British blues boom, he wisely avoided becoming yet another Clapton imitator.

Instead, he leaned into his love of Django Reinhardt, Wes Montgomery and Joe Pass to create his lyrical style. In Humble Pie, Frampton’s jazz-influenced rhythmic phrasing and singing note choices sat beautifully alongside Steve Marriott’s straightforward heavy blues.

This partnership was captured in all its glory on the opening to Humble Pie’s first live album. Frampton’s lines have subtlety and class against Marriott’s uncompromising riffs. “He’s just got such a control over sensitivity and dynamics,” said Keith Urban after Frampton’s Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame induction. “He makes it look easy, but it’s really hard to do what he does.”

Do You Feel Like We Do (Frampton Comes Alive, 1976)

The third single from Frampton Comes Alive was somewhat neutered for the radio, but the uncut version has enough solos for an entire album.

It’s a relic of a pre-punk time when you could present an audience with 13 minutes of guitar improvisation and they would actually thank you for it. For the Steve Miller-worthy intro, Frampton harmonises with Bob Mayer’s organ, interspersed with a snaking, sliding lick that highlights his jazz sensibilities.

Over the rest of the track, Frampton demonstrates the breadth of his guitar talents, from hammy Talk Box showboating to extraordinary dynamic control.

Show Me The Way (Frampton Comes Alive, 1976)

The Talk Box had already featured on hits from Joe Walsh and Aerosmith, but Show Me The Way brought it to fame. Slash credits Frampton as his introduction to the effect, which he later used on live versions of Rocket Queen.

Much as Hendrix had done with the wah-wah, Frampton demonstrated that the Talk Box could add musical expression and was not a mere gimmick.

Many rock players struggle in major keys, but Frampton moves deftly through the D-Dmaj7-Bm-Bb-C progression. The last two of those chords are borrowed from D minor, but Frampton improvises seamlessly through these changes like the George Benson fan he is.

Off The Hook (Peter Frampton, 1994)

Just listen to Frampton’s tone here—there’s fat, singing sustain without a huge amount of saturation. What initially seems like a fairly standard blues-rock instrumental develops into a crafted composition with an Eric Johnson-like use of melody.

Every note feels intentional, so even when he touches on familiar blues licks, they avoid sounding tired. When Frampton mentions his jazz influence, you might fear a barrage of dissonance, but you actually get well-developed melodic ideas that complement the underlying harmony. The clean section from 1:30 creates a moment of calm, so when he steps on the gas for the main solo it really rips.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps (Now, 2003)

George Harrison’s masterpiece has inspired masterful solos from the likes of Jeff Healey, Prince, and Eric Clapton, and Frampton’s take bears comparison with any of them. His opening licks show dynamic control and his trademark lyricism, and he builds intensity through the song with lines that are in turns melodic, passionate, and sophisticated.

His killer note choices and syncopated rhythms grow in excitement with every bar. By the time he climaxes with tremolo-picked octaves and a Jimmy Page-style sequence of pull-offs and wild bends, his guitar is not so much gently weeping as openly wailing.