Picture this: it’s 1966, and London is awash with some of the best musicians in the world. The Beatles had just turned psychedelic, The Rolling Stones were gathering creative momentum, and beneath them all existed a blues scene that hosted the future guitar gods of the ‘70s. The standard was exceptionally high, and if you wanted to join in, you had to match the greatness. But there was one guitarist, not native to Britain, who would hop over th…