The best movies about the recording industry stay faithful to the genre - they tend to let the music speak for itself which is the case with Cadillac Records, the recently released cinematic story of the rise and fall of Chicago's Chess label. It moves seamlessly through the mosaic of blues musicians that made Chess famous, touching along the way on racism, drug addiction, marital infidelity, all the subjects that define the genre.
The story is told by Willie Dixon, played reverently by Cedric the Entertainer, but the "soul" of the story is really Muddy Waters. From the moment Muddy is "discovered" in Clarksdale, Mississippi by an earnest Alan Lomax until he steps off the plane to an icon's welcome in England, he is a towering figure. Waters moves to Chicago and eventually attracts the attention of - at that time - club owner Leonard Chess. Chess decides to start a record label, complete with a unique revolving disc and tone arm mounted above the door, in a black neighborhood of Chicago, an improbable feat for a Polish immigrant who knew next to nothing about the blues.
The first few releases in the early 1950s - like "Honeybee"- feature Muddy's unique style of plucking away at the guitar , creating a resonant, commanding tone that takes his Delta roots to new levels. His early records are an instant hit, but Waters' musical journey twists in another direction with the addition to the band of a nearly destitute Little Walter, discovered playing harmonica on a street corner. Muddy takes him in, little realizing that his protege' will eventually fall in love with his wife Geneva, and the two go on to cut classics like "40 Days and 40 Nights", and "Got My Mojo Working". In 1952, Little Walter records "Juke" , a solo instrumental with a backing band, that goes on to be a hit but, as with so many bluesmen, as Walter's career begins to rise, his personal life sinks, into a morass of heroin and booze. Little Walter becomes the underside of the Chess story, his life coming apart throughout the course of the movie - driving around with all the doors taken off his Cadillac, which earns him a beating at the hand of racist police - ramming another Caddy into Chess's front office, demanding that the label buy him a new one - and finally beaten to death, dying in Geneva Waters' arms.
A parade of musicians pass through the doors at Chess - Howlin Wolf, with his raspy wail of a voice, depicted as strong-willed but mesmerizing - Chuck Berry, played "def"-ly by Mos Def - and of course Etta James, portrayed flawlessly by Beyonce'. Unfortunately, as the Fifties draw to a close, Muddy Waters' music is eclipsed by rock and roll and he begins to rely on Leonard Chess' generosity. Chess is finally sold much to the dismay of its artists. In one of the movie's most poignant scenes, Etta James is singing "I'd Rather Be Blind" as Leonard passes through the studio for the last time, gets into his Cadillac, drives to the end of the street and dies from a heart attack.
Thanks to English fans, Muddy's career abruptly takes off in the early Sixties, and "Cadillac Records" ends with Willie Dixon's wry commentary as he and Muddy arrive in London. Even if you are a marginal fan of the genre, the movie documents the impact of the blues in a straight forward, uncompromising way, which makes you believe that this is the way it really happened.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Death by Decibels
There's a vintage comedy by Billy Wilder in which Horst Buchholtz is tortured by being forced to listen to "Itsy Bitsy Tiny Weeny Yellow Poke A Dot Bikini" over and over again until he cracks and confesses to whatever he was supposed to confess to. Over time this technique has been perfected until the ugly truth can now be told: one of the most potent weapons of torture at Guantanamo Bay is rock and roll. According to a recent Associated Press article, detainees are routinely subjected to a 24/7 ear-splitting musical diet of "decadent" American artists like Metallica, AC/DC, Eminem, Aerosmith, Drowning Pool and Nine Inch Nails.
This is understandable - after all, I'm pretty sure I'd wither under the constant pressure of "Sandman", "Dream On" or listening to Eminem repeat "Will the REAL Slim Shady please stand up ?" over and over again - but the Defense Department has added a bizarre twist by including the theme song from "Sesame Street" as well as the national anthem of 3 and 4 year olds, "I Love You" , by Barney the Dinosaur. Bob Singleton, the author of the dinosaur ditty, told the AP that he thinks whoever decided to diss Barney must have a few screws loose: " A song that was designed to make little children feel safe and secure was somehow going to threaten the mental states of adults and drive them to the emotional breaking point?" Don't be surprised if Al Queda releases a rash of Barney beheading videos - after all, they're just getting revenge.
If you want to find out what's it's like to be locked up in Cuba, just grab a pair of headphones and put on AC/DC, crank it up until your eardrums ache, and just sit there until your brains turn to jelly. It'll make waterboarding seem like a good idea.
This is understandable - after all, I'm pretty sure I'd wither under the constant pressure of "Sandman", "Dream On" or listening to Eminem repeat "Will the REAL Slim Shady please stand up ?" over and over again - but the Defense Department has added a bizarre twist by including the theme song from "Sesame Street" as well as the national anthem of 3 and 4 year olds, "I Love You" , by Barney the Dinosaur. Bob Singleton, the author of the dinosaur ditty, told the AP that he thinks whoever decided to diss Barney must have a few screws loose: " A song that was designed to make little children feel safe and secure was somehow going to threaten the mental states of adults and drive them to the emotional breaking point?" Don't be surprised if Al Queda releases a rash of Barney beheading videos - after all, they're just getting revenge.
If you want to find out what's it's like to be locked up in Cuba, just grab a pair of headphones and put on AC/DC, crank it up until your eardrums ache, and just sit there until your brains turn to jelly. It'll make waterboarding seem like a good idea.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
American Idolatry
I was struck by a peculiar thought as I watched American Idol winner Taylor Hicks descend in a silver lame platform from heaven as "Teen Angel" in the road show of Grease last Friday night. Hicks probably got as many votes as Barack Obama. Whether he did or not - probably not- it may cross somebody's mind someday that this would be a great way to elect a President - sing your best soulful, ear-caressing ballad or that kick ass rock and rock anthem, and you're on your way to that big soundstage recently installed in the Oval Office. No more Fireside Chats or Saturday morning radio addresses - switch it to Classic Rock, Rap and HipHop, Reggae, Reggaton, Techno, Alternative, etc., and occasional retro forays into Disco Night or Soul Power Hour.
Hicks has a big, soothing voice that was perfect in the best doo wop fashion as Teen Angel consoles poor Frenchy that she can still "...go back to high school.." even if she is a "Beauty School Dropout." It was a perfect Burger Palace serenade, in keeping with the show's overall flawless execution, making the Fifties musical journey from the token car song - "Greased Lightnin" -to the token teen aged angst ballad - " It's Raining on Prom Night" - to the bulletproof, onetime AM radio hits - "Hopelessly Devoted To You" and "Grease". The show opens with a Four Seasons intro, four of the actors emerging from separate doorways, although no one had that necessary Frankie Valli falsetto. Danny Zuko (Eric Schneider) came across in that big John Travolta style, while Sandy Dumbrowski (Emily Padgett) was eerily reminiscent of Olivia Newton John. The other key roles - Koneicki, Rizzo, Frenchy and the rest - featured individual vocalists who captured the elements of Fifties music and dance to a proverbial "t". By the time they were collectively rocking out to "You're The One That I Want/We Go Together", most of the audience was following suit.
The only odd thing was that Taylor Hicks gets so much billing in the pre-show hype that you think he dominates the whole show as opposed to a cameo in the second act. I guess Teen Angel would always be considered the equivalent of an American Idol anyway, the divine reincarnation of that carefree Fifties spirit - but would he get us out of the economic mess?
Hicks has a big, soothing voice that was perfect in the best doo wop fashion as Teen Angel consoles poor Frenchy that she can still "...go back to high school.." even if she is a "Beauty School Dropout." It was a perfect Burger Palace serenade, in keeping with the show's overall flawless execution, making the Fifties musical journey from the token car song - "Greased Lightnin" -to the token teen aged angst ballad - " It's Raining on Prom Night" - to the bulletproof, onetime AM radio hits - "Hopelessly Devoted To You" and "Grease". The show opens with a Four Seasons intro, four of the actors emerging from separate doorways, although no one had that necessary Frankie Valli falsetto. Danny Zuko (Eric Schneider) came across in that big John Travolta style, while Sandy Dumbrowski (Emily Padgett) was eerily reminiscent of Olivia Newton John. The other key roles - Koneicki, Rizzo, Frenchy and the rest - featured individual vocalists who captured the elements of Fifties music and dance to a proverbial "t". By the time they were collectively rocking out to "You're The One That I Want/We Go Together", most of the audience was following suit.
The only odd thing was that Taylor Hicks gets so much billing in the pre-show hype that you think he dominates the whole show as opposed to a cameo in the second act. I guess Teen Angel would always be considered the equivalent of an American Idol anyway, the divine reincarnation of that carefree Fifties spirit - but would he get us out of the economic mess?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Craig
The one quote about death that always sticks in my mind - and I don't remember who said it - was something about most people either dying too late or too soon. In the case of my late friend Craig Roche, it was way too soon.
He was a true original, an elf, a self-made man who refused to take anything too seriously. He loved music. Craig's talent extended from acoustic to electric, from the traditions of jug band blues to the spectrum of rock and roll, playing in both musical worlds throughout his life. It was a privilege to help hold up the rthymn section in the Led Balloon Jug Band with Craig, observing first hand his amazing agility to coax and occasionally beat sound out of an inverted washtub, a pole and a string. He was equally adept on washboard, kazoo, vocals and - of course - guitar.
Our friendship had solidified at two class reunions in the recent past, since, for those of you reading this who wouldn't know, school was where Craig and I first got to know each other. I would always show up and immediately want to leave, but then he would calm me down with his infectious humor. As a matter of fact, Craig Roche's laugh is immortalized on one track of the original Led Balloon Jug Band Album, punctuating my teen aged coughing fit.
One of our functions besides struggling to maintain the "foundation " of the band's sound, was to provide humor, in terms of spoken asides , shout-outs (Craig's specialty) and general patter that fluctuated between a dismal Vegas lounge act and what passed for vaguely hip in the Sixties but now sounds like a rehearsal for the assisted living center talent show. I would always pull back in the middle of an idea, but Craig would push the envelope, carrying the thought to the most insane extreme, fearlessly jabbing our funny bones - I haven't seen too many people in my life that were capable of getting away with that lind of controlled insanity.
A few weeks back I wrote about Jim Kweskin and Geoff Muldaur in this space, and thoughtlessly implied that perhaps jug band music had somehow disappeared. At 12:57 PM on November 9,2008, there was a comment from Craig "The Bassman" Roche who wrote: "Good God, man, jug band music never left - so how can it come back? It still sounds so sweet, it certainly is a treat to me." Nine days later, Craig died at the age of 59.
Funny - I have a quiz to write, two exams to compose, plus go buy food and a radio show in a couple of hours, but I had to drop everything to get this done. He wouldn't want this to be too serious, so I'll just close by echoing the same sentiments - hanging out and playing music with Craig Roche certainly was a treat to me.
He was a true original, an elf, a self-made man who refused to take anything too seriously. He loved music. Craig's talent extended from acoustic to electric, from the traditions of jug band blues to the spectrum of rock and roll, playing in both musical worlds throughout his life. It was a privilege to help hold up the rthymn section in the Led Balloon Jug Band with Craig, observing first hand his amazing agility to coax and occasionally beat sound out of an inverted washtub, a pole and a string. He was equally adept on washboard, kazoo, vocals and - of course - guitar.
Our friendship had solidified at two class reunions in the recent past, since, for those of you reading this who wouldn't know, school was where Craig and I first got to know each other. I would always show up and immediately want to leave, but then he would calm me down with his infectious humor. As a matter of fact, Craig Roche's laugh is immortalized on one track of the original Led Balloon Jug Band Album, punctuating my teen aged coughing fit.
One of our functions besides struggling to maintain the "foundation " of the band's sound, was to provide humor, in terms of spoken asides , shout-outs (Craig's specialty) and general patter that fluctuated between a dismal Vegas lounge act and what passed for vaguely hip in the Sixties but now sounds like a rehearsal for the assisted living center talent show. I would always pull back in the middle of an idea, but Craig would push the envelope, carrying the thought to the most insane extreme, fearlessly jabbing our funny bones - I haven't seen too many people in my life that were capable of getting away with that lind of controlled insanity.
A few weeks back I wrote about Jim Kweskin and Geoff Muldaur in this space, and thoughtlessly implied that perhaps jug band music had somehow disappeared. At 12:57 PM on November 9,2008, there was a comment from Craig "The Bassman" Roche who wrote: "Good God, man, jug band music never left - so how can it come back? It still sounds so sweet, it certainly is a treat to me." Nine days later, Craig died at the age of 59.
Funny - I have a quiz to write, two exams to compose, plus go buy food and a radio show in a couple of hours, but I had to drop everything to get this done. He wouldn't want this to be too serious, so I'll just close by echoing the same sentiments - hanging out and playing music with Craig Roche certainly was a treat to me.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
The Devil Makes Three
For two weeks now, I've been driving back and forth listening to The Devil Makes Three. Now that the economic meltdown has set in , this is the only way I can catch up with new tunes, in between my jobs, careening down the interstate. I've come up with a thousand excuses why I'm not ready to write the blog. Meanwhile, in the middle of my ongoing obsession with trying to write quality reviews about lesser known musicians, the strangest thing happened: their music began to grow on me.
The Devil Makes Three's combination of guitar, tenor banjo, upright bass and vocals renergizes a range of musical genres from cowboy strumming to country and western alcohol-fueled laments to Appalachian harmonies to sea chanteys to tongue-in-cheek talking blues. Besides the superior musicianship, the lyrics to their original compositions are clever, catchy and world weary. My two favorites, which seem vaguely autobiographical, are "Graveyard" , with plaintive vocals that evoke REM's Michael Stipe - especially the haunting refrain of "That's me" - and "Beneath the Piano" - studded with those whispered nuggets of small town gossip suggesting the return of tarnished prodigal son. "Black Irish", the first song on their live CD "A Little Bit Faster and A Little But Worse" , is a driving blend of strings and vocals enhanced by the addition of a fiddle.
It was recorded at Don Quixote's in Felton, California which is evident by the way the crowd greets the raucous chorus from the Devil's tune "Shade" , especially the line about " What the hell am I doing drunk in the middle of the day?"
The Devil Makes Three is Cooper McBean and Pete Bernhard playing guitar and tenor banjo as well as sharing vocals, Lucia Turino on upright bass and vocals, and Chojo Jacques on fiddle. They have three CDs which you can find out more about at http://www.thedevilmakesthree.com/. You'll be surprised at how fluid their playing is, but don't be surprised if you find yourself tapping your toes and humming along and chuckling over the lyrics - their music is infectious.
The Devil Makes Three's combination of guitar, tenor banjo, upright bass and vocals renergizes a range of musical genres from cowboy strumming to country and western alcohol-fueled laments to Appalachian harmonies to sea chanteys to tongue-in-cheek talking blues. Besides the superior musicianship, the lyrics to their original compositions are clever, catchy and world weary. My two favorites, which seem vaguely autobiographical, are "Graveyard" , with plaintive vocals that evoke REM's Michael Stipe - especially the haunting refrain of "That's me" - and "Beneath the Piano" - studded with those whispered nuggets of small town gossip suggesting the return of tarnished prodigal son. "Black Irish", the first song on their live CD "A Little Bit Faster and A Little But Worse" , is a driving blend of strings and vocals enhanced by the addition of a fiddle.
It was recorded at Don Quixote's in Felton, California which is evident by the way the crowd greets the raucous chorus from the Devil's tune "Shade" , especially the line about " What the hell am I doing drunk in the middle of the day?"
The Devil Makes Three is Cooper McBean and Pete Bernhard playing guitar and tenor banjo as well as sharing vocals, Lucia Turino on upright bass and vocals, and Chojo Jacques on fiddle. They have three CDs which you can find out more about at http://www.thedevilmakesthree.com/. You'll be surprised at how fluid their playing is, but don't be surprised if you find yourself tapping your toes and humming along and chuckling over the lyrics - their music is infectious.
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Return of Geoff Muldaur and Jim Kweskin
The original Jim Kweskin Jug Band was as big as the Beatles. If you find that hard to believe, just remember that Paul and John started out as - guess what? - a jug band named the Quarrymen Skiffle Band. Kweskin assembled an exceptional group of musical innovators in the early 1960s, most of whom went on to pursue solo careers, including Maria (D'Amato) Muldaur, eclectic banjo player Bill Keith, bluesman Geoff Muldaur and Jim Kweskin himself. Before last Saturday night in Framingham, I hadn't seen Muldaur and Kweskin on stage since the days of the Mooncusser Coffee House on "Circus" Avenue in Oak Bluffs. Thanks to that ever vigilant traditional music aficionado Will "Shade" Melton , those days came back to life , if only for a couple of hours.
Going to the Amazing Things Art Center in downtown Framingham was also nostalgic in respect to my own alleged career. I spent six years of my life working at an AM radio station in Natick, convinced that fame and fortune would be mine once the Boston stations decided to hire me, but - in the interim - had the distinction of covering the Framingham selectmens' meeting every Monday night. I never forgot the train station roof. You couldn't help but notice the sagging, nearly collapsed canopy of rotten shingles as you drove by, a symbol of small scale urban blight. Surprisingly, the concert was in a converted firehouse in the middle of downtown with an excellent Brazilian restaurant across the street, where Shade and I relaxed with an impressive buffet. Although Framingham's new look was commendable, I never did get to see if they fixed the train station roof.
Geoff Muldaur's voice is truly unequalled, coaxing out a long slow blues, adding a little vibrato, or just singing gently along with his guitar. Muldaur was the opening act. He joked easily with the audience between songs, his bemused expression indicating that we were all in the same age bracket, complete with the quip about the stock market, a far cry from the Vineyard. It was a pleasure watching him run through a fluid mix of blues and folk, including a slow Lonnie Johnson blues , the late Eric Von Schmidt's "Light Rain", and a Vera Hall tune that gave Geoff another chance to show off his vocal range. When Jim Kweskin arrived on stage, the Jug Band rose briefly from the ashes as they ran through some of the most familiar tunes, including, of course, "Fishing" with both guitars ably incorporating the melody. I quickly reverted to being a gawky fifteen year old cradling a cup of flavored coffee back in the day in Oak Bluffs.
When Jim Kweskin came out to start the second set, he added a fiddle player and a stand up bass. His penchant for folk music covers a wide range, from the talking political commentary of the Deperession strummers to the high energy ditties of the 1920s flappers, giving each song his own ironic twist. Once Geoff Muldaur returned , they were off and running, racing through jug band tunes like "Papa's On The Housetop" and "The Blues My Naughty Sweety Gives To Me", the fiddle player's hair-raising licks boosting up the energy level. The image that stays with me was the encore, Muldaur and Kweskin driving through a spine-straightening version of "Minglewood Blues" with Muldaur bellowing: "Well I was born in the desert/I was raised in a lions' den". The grand finale found all of us oldsters crooning:" Stealing/Stealing/Pretty mama don't you tell on me/Cause I'm stealing back to my same old used to be."
I wonder if this means jug band music is coming back - or - more to the point - did it ever go away? Besides, how often can you escape these days from the election or the stock market or the price of food for a few hours and actually have a good time - in downtown Framingham, of all places. I guess this means I'll have to go back now. After all, I still don't know if they ever fixed the damn roof!
Going to the Amazing Things Art Center in downtown Framingham was also nostalgic in respect to my own alleged career. I spent six years of my life working at an AM radio station in Natick, convinced that fame and fortune would be mine once the Boston stations decided to hire me, but - in the interim - had the distinction of covering the Framingham selectmens' meeting every Monday night. I never forgot the train station roof. You couldn't help but notice the sagging, nearly collapsed canopy of rotten shingles as you drove by, a symbol of small scale urban blight. Surprisingly, the concert was in a converted firehouse in the middle of downtown with an excellent Brazilian restaurant across the street, where Shade and I relaxed with an impressive buffet. Although Framingham's new look was commendable, I never did get to see if they fixed the train station roof.
Geoff Muldaur's voice is truly unequalled, coaxing out a long slow blues, adding a little vibrato, or just singing gently along with his guitar. Muldaur was the opening act. He joked easily with the audience between songs, his bemused expression indicating that we were all in the same age bracket, complete with the quip about the stock market, a far cry from the Vineyard. It was a pleasure watching him run through a fluid mix of blues and folk, including a slow Lonnie Johnson blues , the late Eric Von Schmidt's "Light Rain", and a Vera Hall tune that gave Geoff another chance to show off his vocal range. When Jim Kweskin arrived on stage, the Jug Band rose briefly from the ashes as they ran through some of the most familiar tunes, including, of course, "Fishing" with both guitars ably incorporating the melody. I quickly reverted to being a gawky fifteen year old cradling a cup of flavored coffee back in the day in Oak Bluffs.
When Jim Kweskin came out to start the second set, he added a fiddle player and a stand up bass. His penchant for folk music covers a wide range, from the talking political commentary of the Deperession strummers to the high energy ditties of the 1920s flappers, giving each song his own ironic twist. Once Geoff Muldaur returned , they were off and running, racing through jug band tunes like "Papa's On The Housetop" and "The Blues My Naughty Sweety Gives To Me", the fiddle player's hair-raising licks boosting up the energy level. The image that stays with me was the encore, Muldaur and Kweskin driving through a spine-straightening version of "Minglewood Blues" with Muldaur bellowing: "Well I was born in the desert/I was raised in a lions' den". The grand finale found all of us oldsters crooning:" Stealing/Stealing/Pretty mama don't you tell on me/Cause I'm stealing back to my same old used to be."
I wonder if this means jug band music is coming back - or - more to the point - did it ever go away? Besides, how often can you escape these days from the election or the stock market or the price of food for a few hours and actually have a good time - in downtown Framingham, of all places. I guess this means I'll have to go back now. After all, I still don't know if they ever fixed the damn roof!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings
Most bands at weddings end up being a polite disappointment - they play too much"
cover" music or not enough, they sound too loud or too soft, or the tunes are endless jams of Lawrence Welk favorites fronted by a so-so lead singer, so I expected "the usual" at a wedding I went to earlier this year. It quickly became apparent that Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were not only a real band, but a dynamic blend of soaring vocals (Sharon has been nicknamed the female James Brown) and a solid foundation of funk, just the right act to get the reception cranking. Sharon even got down and danced with the lucky couple.
Fortunately, one of the pre-wedding presents left in guests' rooms days before the ceremony (this wedding happened at a posh Jamaican resort) was a copy of "100 Days, 100 Nights" on Brooklyn's Daptone Records. I kept glancing at the cover, but didn't listen to it until I was back home. The title tune "100 Days, 100 Nights" caught my ear from the first riff - a quiet almost orchestral introduction - to the last soul-drenched vocal, Sharon Jones' powerful voice fronting a "gospelized" chorus (The Voices of Thunder) as she describes why it takes so long "to know a man's heart."
Turns out Sharon was born in Augusta, Georgia, and grew up imitating the "hardest working man in show business" JB himself, who hails from Augusta as well. Like many R & B acts, including Wilson Pickett and Aretha Franklin, Jones started out performing in church, branching out into singing with local funk groups and appearing in talent shows. She headed North to New York , supporting herself as a prison guard at Riker's Island as well as an armored car guard for Wells Fargo between session work. Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings officially formed in 2001. "100 Days, 100 Nights" was recorded at Daptone Records in Bushwick, which is their own independent label. According to their site, the "Daptone Soul Sound" has attracted the likes of Kanye West and Amy Winehouse among many others, while Sharon Jones continues to record for artists as diverse as Lou Reed and They Might Be Giants.
Besides the title tune, "100 Days" , the band delivers a consistent blend of James Brown induced funk, gospel and a hint of Motown soul, but clearly putting their own mark on tunes like "Something's Changed", "Be Easy", "Tell Me", and "When the Other Foot Drops, Uncle ". Sharon Jones' voice soars behind the solid musicianship. Check out their recordings and the Daptone Soul Sound at http://www.daptonerecords.com/.
cover" music or not enough, they sound too loud or too soft, or the tunes are endless jams of Lawrence Welk favorites fronted by a so-so lead singer, so I expected "the usual" at a wedding I went to earlier this year. It quickly became apparent that Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were not only a real band, but a dynamic blend of soaring vocals (Sharon has been nicknamed the female James Brown) and a solid foundation of funk, just the right act to get the reception cranking. Sharon even got down and danced with the lucky couple.
Fortunately, one of the pre-wedding presents left in guests' rooms days before the ceremony (this wedding happened at a posh Jamaican resort) was a copy of "100 Days, 100 Nights" on Brooklyn's Daptone Records. I kept glancing at the cover, but didn't listen to it until I was back home. The title tune "100 Days, 100 Nights" caught my ear from the first riff - a quiet almost orchestral introduction - to the last soul-drenched vocal, Sharon Jones' powerful voice fronting a "gospelized" chorus (The Voices of Thunder) as she describes why it takes so long "to know a man's heart."
Turns out Sharon was born in Augusta, Georgia, and grew up imitating the "hardest working man in show business" JB himself, who hails from Augusta as well. Like many R & B acts, including Wilson Pickett and Aretha Franklin, Jones started out performing in church, branching out into singing with local funk groups and appearing in talent shows. She headed North to New York , supporting herself as a prison guard at Riker's Island as well as an armored car guard for Wells Fargo between session work. Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings officially formed in 2001. "100 Days, 100 Nights" was recorded at Daptone Records in Bushwick, which is their own independent label. According to their site, the "Daptone Soul Sound" has attracted the likes of Kanye West and Amy Winehouse among many others, while Sharon Jones continues to record for artists as diverse as Lou Reed and They Might Be Giants.
Besides the title tune, "100 Days" , the band delivers a consistent blend of James Brown induced funk, gospel and a hint of Motown soul, but clearly putting their own mark on tunes like "Something's Changed", "Be Easy", "Tell Me", and "When the Other Foot Drops, Uncle ". Sharon Jones' voice soars behind the solid musicianship. Check out their recordings and the Daptone Soul Sound at http://www.daptonerecords.com/.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The (Dave) Hole Story
I first heard Dave Hole's sizzling slide guitar on one of Alligator's compilations, "Crucial Guitar Blues", doing a tune called "Phone Line." These CDs are a boon to us deejays because you get twelve different artists and because somebody else has already picked out the "best" tunes - at least, that's the assumption. I got addicted to his frenetic edgy vocal styling and the sounds he conjures up out of the guitar. My new favorite is "Short Fuse Blues", off - I admit it - yet another compilation, but this cut stretches the limits of the instrument, making it scream, wail, and drift off into the gray area between blues and rock, echoing Clapton and Hendrix.
As it turns out, "Short Fuse" was the name of Dave Hole's band as well as his first recording in 1990, the result of 20 years touring the Western Australian pub circuit. Hole moved Down Under with his family at the age of 4. His fascination with the blues started when Dave heard a friend's Muddy Waters album at the age of 6, finally picking up the guitar when he was 12. Since there were a few thousand miles separating Hole from the Mississippi Delta, he taught himself by listening to Elmore James, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Mississippi Fred McDowell and - naturally- Robert Johnson. Breaking a finger in a football accident actually lead to his unique style - he was left-handed, so Dave Hole simply switched to playing right handed, putting the slide on his index finger and letting his hand hang over the neck - a method that stuck even when his finger healed.
"Short Fuse" proved to be Hole's breakthrough. He sent a copy to Guitar Magazine, which gushed over his music to the extent of comparing the unknown Australian to Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughn, which got the attention of Alligator Records president Bruce Iglauer and resulted in a contract for the first non US resident in the label's history.
I picked up a copy of "Under The Spell" at the North Atlantic Bluesfest last July, little realizing it was the Australian Recording Industry Association's top pick for Blues/Roots in 1999, the only one of Hole's ten albums to win that designation. The integration of his expressly modern lyrics - as evoked by titles like "Holding Pattern" and "More Love, Less Attitude" - with his outstanding runs and frequent meltdown solos will have you on your feet plucking away at your air guitar - not that I would do anything like that. Some of my other favorites are "Bird's Eye Blues", "Yes or No", and "Blues is the Truth", but I actually listened all the way through, resisting my radio induced temptation to just play one or two cuts.
Dave Hole has done the global circuit, appearing at blues festivals from Brazil to Belgium. When he's not on the road, Hole holes up in Western Australia for six months out of the year. As I begin scouring the racks for more of his CDS, I am reminded of the fact that Dave Hole has raised my level of appreciation for Australian imports to new heights - a definite improvement over Fosters and dwarf -tossing ,mate.
As it turns out, "Short Fuse" was the name of Dave Hole's band as well as his first recording in 1990, the result of 20 years touring the Western Australian pub circuit. Hole moved Down Under with his family at the age of 4. His fascination with the blues started when Dave heard a friend's Muddy Waters album at the age of 6, finally picking up the guitar when he was 12. Since there were a few thousand miles separating Hole from the Mississippi Delta, he taught himself by listening to Elmore James, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Mississippi Fred McDowell and - naturally- Robert Johnson. Breaking a finger in a football accident actually lead to his unique style - he was left-handed, so Dave Hole simply switched to playing right handed, putting the slide on his index finger and letting his hand hang over the neck - a method that stuck even when his finger healed.
"Short Fuse" proved to be Hole's breakthrough. He sent a copy to Guitar Magazine, which gushed over his music to the extent of comparing the unknown Australian to Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughn, which got the attention of Alligator Records president Bruce Iglauer and resulted in a contract for the first non US resident in the label's history.
I picked up a copy of "Under The Spell" at the North Atlantic Bluesfest last July, little realizing it was the Australian Recording Industry Association's top pick for Blues/Roots in 1999, the only one of Hole's ten albums to win that designation. The integration of his expressly modern lyrics - as evoked by titles like "Holding Pattern" and "More Love, Less Attitude" - with his outstanding runs and frequent meltdown solos will have you on your feet plucking away at your air guitar - not that I would do anything like that. Some of my other favorites are "Bird's Eye Blues", "Yes or No", and "Blues is the Truth", but I actually listened all the way through, resisting my radio induced temptation to just play one or two cuts.
Dave Hole has done the global circuit, appearing at blues festivals from Brazil to Belgium. When he's not on the road, Hole holes up in Western Australia for six months out of the year. As I begin scouring the racks for more of his CDS, I am reminded of the fact that Dave Hole has raised my level of appreciation for Australian imports to new heights - a definite improvement over Fosters and dwarf -tossing ,mate.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Crazy About "Crazy" , or Here Come The Judge
By now we are all aware of the "face in the crowd" movie format - kid comes out of nowhere with unbelievable talent, soars to the top and sinks down dramatically in a sea of drugs and booze, ultimately ending up penniless and pointless. The story of guitarist Hank Garland doesn't follow that pattern exactly in the feature film "Crazy" (One of the entries in this year's Rhode Island International Film Festival) but the elements seem all too familiar.
From the moment the story unfolds as Garland gets advice from Hank Williams seconds before Garland's first Grand Old Opry performance, the film is speckled with legendary performers who relied on Garland's "session" playing - Roy Orbison, Elvis Presley, Patsy Cline. The detail is remarkable, from the clothes to the cars to the old-fashioned recording studios and clubs, but the soundtrack stands out in relation to the story, as it makes the transition from the emerging country and western sound of the late 1940s to the brash rock and roll of the mid-1950s to the legendary jazzmen beginning to make their mark during the same era. One of the film's pivotal moments occurs when Garland goes to a "black" club in New York to hear a rising star named Wes Montgomery. The seasoned country picker abruptly shifts his focus to jazz, a monumental transformation in an era when desegregation was alive and well.
Ironically, Hank Garland doesn't sink into a morass of booze, drugs and one night stands - he actually marries the girl of his dreams, moves to the "suburbs" and stays faithful, even on the road. But his flirtation with African-American performers drives an unexpected wedge in their relationship, a gap that widens even further when Garland decides one day to claim his share of the royalties from "Jingle Bell Rock", a song that he co-wrote, setting up a confrontation with the so-called Nashville Mob . His career goes rapidly down the tubes, compounded by the fact that Garland's skittish wife takes up with his chief rival. Hank ends up in a mental institution, his will broken by shock treatments that render him helpless, left to spend endless hours mindlessly picking at the instrument that defined his life, relegated to one last performance at the place where it all began - The Grand Old Opry.
"Crazy" is just about perfect, between the reverence for the different genres of music it presents so well , and the film's uncompromising portrayal of Hank Garland's unique life. In a way, the film elevates the unsung heroes of the music biz, the studio players that provide the backbone riffs and hooks that help define a "hit" record.
From the moment the story unfolds as Garland gets advice from Hank Williams seconds before Garland's first Grand Old Opry performance, the film is speckled with legendary performers who relied on Garland's "session" playing - Roy Orbison, Elvis Presley, Patsy Cline. The detail is remarkable, from the clothes to the cars to the old-fashioned recording studios and clubs, but the soundtrack stands out in relation to the story, as it makes the transition from the emerging country and western sound of the late 1940s to the brash rock and roll of the mid-1950s to the legendary jazzmen beginning to make their mark during the same era. One of the film's pivotal moments occurs when Garland goes to a "black" club in New York to hear a rising star named Wes Montgomery. The seasoned country picker abruptly shifts his focus to jazz, a monumental transformation in an era when desegregation was alive and well.
Ironically, Hank Garland doesn't sink into a morass of booze, drugs and one night stands - he actually marries the girl of his dreams, moves to the "suburbs" and stays faithful, even on the road. But his flirtation with African-American performers drives an unexpected wedge in their relationship, a gap that widens even further when Garland decides one day to claim his share of the royalties from "Jingle Bell Rock", a song that he co-wrote, setting up a confrontation with the so-called Nashville Mob . His career goes rapidly down the tubes, compounded by the fact that Garland's skittish wife takes up with his chief rival. Hank ends up in a mental institution, his will broken by shock treatments that render him helpless, left to spend endless hours mindlessly picking at the instrument that defined his life, relegated to one last performance at the place where it all began - The Grand Old Opry.
"Crazy" is just about perfect, between the reverence for the different genres of music it presents so well , and the film's uncompromising portrayal of Hank Garland's unique life. In a way, the film elevates the unsung heroes of the music biz, the studio players that provide the backbone riffs and hooks that help define a "hit" record.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Thrills and Chills With Rod Piazza and The Mighty Flyers
I first heard Rod Piazza and the Mighty Flyers doing "Night's End" on a Blacktop Records' blues instrumental compilation. I couldn't get enough of the song - the harmonica playing was uncomplicated but overpowering, the lyrics were fresh, and the song just had a late night, low light, end of the line feel to it - plus people like me who do radio shows like songs that mention radio shows. The next tune that caught my ear was Rod and the MFBQ playing "Mellow Down Easy", bringing out the contrast between Paul Butterfield's nimble harmonica playing as opposed to Rod Piazza's mouth harp on steroids, but his mastery of the instrument comes out full force along with the band on their latest CD "ThrillVille" available from http://www.deltagroovemusic.com/ .
The first thing that strikes you is how much music is being generated by just 4 people: Rod doing lead vocals and mouth harp, his wife Honey on piano and thunder bass (Named 2008 Pinetop Perkins Piano Player of the Year), Henry Carvajal on guitar and Dave Kida on drums. I also like the way they blend in a variety of styles, from straight up Chicago blues riffs to a hint of fifties bop and sixties rock with a West Coast flavor. The opening cut - "Hate to See You Go/Shake Your Hips" - shows off Rod's ability to switch styles from a penetrating Little Walter riff to Slim Harpo, sticking a little discography lesson in between, paying homage to past players while putting his own twist on their music. "Westcoaster" reminds me a little of this record my mother bought from Columbia back in the day by the Harmonicats, featuring the - to my little kid ears, anyway - "massive" sound of the chromatic, sometimes suggesting the accordion a la Lawrence Welk, or a saxophone, or a sort of harmonica orchestra - it's a big , smooth, soothing sound , a musical wave that carries you along nicely with a jazzy flavor.
Piazza's version of Junior Wells' signature tune "Hoodoo Man Blues" is flavored with hard core blues harp and sizzling piano runs, reportedly prompting veteran bluesman Billy Boy Arnold to tell Rod: "..Junior ain't never played it that good." That same harmonica/keyboard interplay lights up "Get Wise" , while "It Can't Be True" follows a more traditional R & B approach. "Stranded" gives Honey Piazza yet another opportunity to tickle those ivories, as well as on "Stranger Blues." "MFBQ" pays homage to James Brown and those gutbucket Stax/Volt rhythms, while "Sugar" sounds like a salute to the classic late 40s/early 50s crooners.
Every time I write about a bluesman who's relatively new to me, I realize how far behind the curve I am - after all, Rod Piazza's been recording music for over 40 years, has cut 25-30 CDS and played on 5 or 10 more. Check out "ThrillVille" - you won't be disappointed. As far as my lack of blues education is concerned, all I can say is : "Better late than never."
(PS: I've gotten some good feedback on "Mondegreens" which is great, but I forgot my most renowned examples - Paul Butterfield's singing on "Born in Chicago" . What IS he really saying on the chorus: "My first friend went down/ When I was seventeen years of age/ Best thing I can say about that boy/ (Mondegreen portion) "He got laid? He got brave? He got paid? "(Anybody know the answer?)
The first thing that strikes you is how much music is being generated by just 4 people: Rod doing lead vocals and mouth harp, his wife Honey on piano and thunder bass (Named 2008 Pinetop Perkins Piano Player of the Year), Henry Carvajal on guitar and Dave Kida on drums. I also like the way they blend in a variety of styles, from straight up Chicago blues riffs to a hint of fifties bop and sixties rock with a West Coast flavor. The opening cut - "Hate to See You Go/Shake Your Hips" - shows off Rod's ability to switch styles from a penetrating Little Walter riff to Slim Harpo, sticking a little discography lesson in between, paying homage to past players while putting his own twist on their music. "Westcoaster" reminds me a little of this record my mother bought from Columbia back in the day by the Harmonicats, featuring the - to my little kid ears, anyway - "massive" sound of the chromatic, sometimes suggesting the accordion a la Lawrence Welk, or a saxophone, or a sort of harmonica orchestra - it's a big , smooth, soothing sound , a musical wave that carries you along nicely with a jazzy flavor.
Piazza's version of Junior Wells' signature tune "Hoodoo Man Blues" is flavored with hard core blues harp and sizzling piano runs, reportedly prompting veteran bluesman Billy Boy Arnold to tell Rod: "..Junior ain't never played it that good." That same harmonica/keyboard interplay lights up "Get Wise" , while "It Can't Be True" follows a more traditional R & B approach. "Stranded" gives Honey Piazza yet another opportunity to tickle those ivories, as well as on "Stranger Blues." "MFBQ" pays homage to James Brown and those gutbucket Stax/Volt rhythms, while "Sugar" sounds like a salute to the classic late 40s/early 50s crooners.
Every time I write about a bluesman who's relatively new to me, I realize how far behind the curve I am - after all, Rod Piazza's been recording music for over 40 years, has cut 25-30 CDS and played on 5 or 10 more. Check out "ThrillVille" - you won't be disappointed. As far as my lack of blues education is concerned, all I can say is : "Better late than never."
(PS: I've gotten some good feedback on "Mondegreens" which is great, but I forgot my most renowned examples - Paul Butterfield's singing on "Born in Chicago" . What IS he really saying on the chorus: "My first friend went down/ When I was seventeen years of age/ Best thing I can say about that boy/ (Mondegreen portion) "He got laid? He got brave? He got paid? "(Anybody know the answer?)
Monday, July 28, 2008
Catching Up With The Blood Brothers: Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King Rule The Road
I've always liked the sound of slide guitar from the first time I saw folksinger Tom Rush slip an empty lipstick case on his little finger in order to play "Galveston Flood", right up through George Thorogood's tear-jerking version of "The Sky is Crying" to just about everything recorded by Dave Hole, especially "Short Fuse Blues", but nobody masters that distinctive down home sound like virtuoso guitarist Smokin' Joe Kubek, as well as serving up straight ahead rock and roll. His blistering runs and piercing solos, coupled with the distinctive blues baritone and nimble picking of the equally talented Bnois King, had the crowd on its feet during most of the band's ninety minute set at Chan's in downtown Woonsocket, RI, part of their nationwide tour supporting the Blood Brothers CD on Alligator. Fortunately, I managed to sit down with Smokin' Joe for a few minutes before he and Bnois King started chewing up the scenery:
BSRR:
What's the response been out on the road to Blood Brothers?
Smokin' Joe Kubek:
It's been real great, man, the CD's been doing good. We tried the stuff out before we actually recorded just to make sure the fans were going to dig it. It was road tested. I try to be very loyal to my fans. They're all family, know what I mean?
BSRR:
Speaking of the CD, the cut I've been playing the most on my show is "Don't Lose My Number." Can you tell me a little about that song?
Smokin' Joe:
You can tell we're Jimmy Reed influenced, definitely influenced by "Going To New York." We listened to that song so many years. We have a lot of fun playing it with a little slide guitar - that's our specialty - we love playing shuffles like that. I could play that kind of stuff all night long.
BSRR:
Another song off "Blood Brothers" that always gets me is "Stop Drinking." Tell me about that one.
Smokin' Joe:
It's a long story. We used to drive around a lot in our earlier years and listen to Lightnin Hopkins play. Bnois and I just got lit up whenever we heard that song. We've been messing with that song for nineteen years. We started playing it again and I decided I wanted to record it. That's it right there. I just think it's a cool song. We've just got to do it our own way.
BSRR:
Then there's my theme song " Midlife Crisis, Midnight Flight."
Smokin' Joe:
That was written by myself, Bnois and Phil Petty, who's the bass player with a Texas band called Point Blank. They've got a lot of blues roots. We're homeboys. We all grew up together. That's kind of our little rocker.
BSRR:
What's the response been out on the road to Blood Brothers?
Smokin' Joe Kubek:
It's been real great, man, the CD's been doing good. We tried the stuff out before we actually recorded just to make sure the fans were going to dig it. It was road tested. I try to be very loyal to my fans. They're all family, know what I mean?
BSRR:
Speaking of the CD, the cut I've been playing the most on my show is "Don't Lose My Number." Can you tell me a little about that song?
Smokin' Joe:
You can tell we're Jimmy Reed influenced, definitely influenced by "Going To New York." We listened to that song so many years. We have a lot of fun playing it with a little slide guitar - that's our specialty - we love playing shuffles like that. I could play that kind of stuff all night long.
BSRR:
Another song off "Blood Brothers" that always gets me is "Stop Drinking." Tell me about that one.
Smokin' Joe:
It's a long story. We used to drive around a lot in our earlier years and listen to Lightnin Hopkins play. Bnois and I just got lit up whenever we heard that song. We've been messing with that song for nineteen years. We started playing it again and I decided I wanted to record it. That's it right there. I just think it's a cool song. We've just got to do it our own way.
BSRR:
Then there's my theme song " Midlife Crisis, Midnight Flight."
Smokin' Joe:
That was written by myself, Bnois and Phil Petty, who's the bass player with a Texas band called Point Blank. They've got a lot of blues roots. We're homeboys. We all grew up together. That's kind of our little rocker.
BSRR: Who would you say your primary influences are - I know you always mention Freddy King.
Smokin' Joe: Oh man, we could go on for hours on that. It's the flavor of the day, you know. I love Albert King, anything Albert did. I love the way BB King played on "Live At The Regal". I could go on and on.
BSRR: When do you think you're going back in the studio?
Smokin' Joe: That's a good question. I'm not sure as of yet. Bnois and I have been kicking around a few songs here and there. We got some skeletons but it'll be a while. This CD's still doing good. We're working it. We want to give everybody as chance to get it before we even think about the next one.
The other thing that comes across loud and clear when you see Smokin' Joe and Bnois onstage is the rapport they've built up over nineteen years, flawlessly trading off lead riffs and seguing from one song to the next. The Blood Brothers' tour isn't just two great musicians displaying their considerable talent, it's living proof that the blues are alive and well and coming soon to a club near you.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
The Rockland Report Part II - Artist Sampler
One of the reasons I started doing "Blues With A Feeling" last year on WQRI was to continue building an audience for an authentic musical genre that always seems to be teetering on the brink. It makes you wonder which blues artists are strong and versatile enough to pull in new listeners while still paying homage to the tradition. Here's a look at some of the crowd pleasers at The North Atlantic Bluesfest in Maine July 12 and 13, and their individual styles of music:
Wayne Baker Brooks is crafting a new approach to the blues, blending elements of soul,
rthymn and blues, hip hop and rock into a dynamic mix that had the crowd on its feet during his set. He has solid credentials , being the son of bluesman Lonnie Brooks , which prompted me to break into a few bars of "Too Old To Get Married " when I shook Wayne's hand backstage, a rocking duet between Lonnie and Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater on Clearwater's 2008 Alligator CD "West Side Strut." My personal favorite during Brooks' live set was his version of the Muddy Waters classic "Long Distance Call", but I didn't really start to appreciate his music until I started listening to his "Mystery" CD, available on Brooks' own label, Blue Island Records. The title tune is a soulful approach to the blues that picks up in intensity, delving into those endless guitar solos reminiscent of Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton, while "Baby Stop", the second cut, is uptempo funk that reminded me of Sly & The Family Stone. "Exiled" evokes the vocal styles of Otis Redding and/or Solomon Burke, a soul-drenched love song that gradually builds to a crescendo. Baker Brooks points toward the future in "Nu Kinda Blues", a blues rap tune that puts together harp on steroids with a dance beat, churning out a solid rhythmic base with playful vocals bridging the gap between old and new. "She's Dangerous", "It Don't Work Like That" and "Your Turn (To Talk To The Blues)" also caught my ear. As Wayne explains : "Some people say I'm rock but I say I'm blues rock with a contemporary feel. I also add a little hip-hop to the equation." Check out http://www.waynebakerbrooks.com/
You can hear elements of Blues Traveler, Paul Butterfield and especially Stevie Wonder's wizardry on the chromatic harmonica when you listen to Sugar Blue , who says it all in "Bluesman", one of the standout tracks on his CD "Code Blue" ( Find it at Sugar-Blue.com), - "I'm a bluesman/That's what I am/ And if you don't like it/I don't give a damn" (Whiting-Lantieri). Blue, whose real name is James Whiting, was raised in Harlem by a mother who performed at the Apollo in the 1930s and 1940s, so he grew up around legendary performers like Billie Holiday and Big Maybelle. He plays homage to the originators with tunes like "Bad Boys Heaven", a tongue-in-cheek ballad combining barrel house piano with mouth harp, and "Chicago Blues", a brief history of the blues punctuated by Sugar's harmonica mimicking a saxophone and an accordion between the blistering runs up and down the scales. Blue - slash - Whiting really excels on "Krystalline", which describes a love affair with the "White Lady", the lyric perfectly capturing the insidious addiction. Sugar's talent has earned him the nomination for the 2008 Blues Music Award for Instrumentalist-Harmonica by the Blues Foundation.
Melvia "Chick" Rodgers doesn't waste any time in letting you know where she's coming from on her CD "Essentially Yours" (Spellbound Records) - she pays homage to both Muddy Waters, in Koko Taylor's twist on "Mannish Boy" - "I'm A Woman" - and segues into BB King's anthem "The Thrill is Gone" as part of her version of Albert King's "I'll Play The Blues For You". Her R & B credentials are firmly established in "Let's Make A Deal" , as well as Rodgers' handling of the Aretha Franklin standards "Baby I Love You" and "Ain't No Way". Chick's voice soars on her interpretations of "Over The Rainbow" and "Summertime" , breathing powerful new life into both classics. Rodgers' debut on Spellbound is due to her friendship with Koko Taylor, who asked Chick to play at her wedding in 1999. As Taylor says in the CD notes: "Chick Rodgers always respected me as a person and for my legacy. I've always called her my 'Little Chicken' ."
Wayne Baker Brooks is crafting a new approach to the blues, blending elements of soul,
rthymn and blues, hip hop and rock into a dynamic mix that had the crowd on its feet during his set. He has solid credentials , being the son of bluesman Lonnie Brooks , which prompted me to break into a few bars of "Too Old To Get Married " when I shook Wayne's hand backstage, a rocking duet between Lonnie and Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater on Clearwater's 2008 Alligator CD "West Side Strut." My personal favorite during Brooks' live set was his version of the Muddy Waters classic "Long Distance Call", but I didn't really start to appreciate his music until I started listening to his "Mystery" CD, available on Brooks' own label, Blue Island Records. The title tune is a soulful approach to the blues that picks up in intensity, delving into those endless guitar solos reminiscent of Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton, while "Baby Stop", the second cut, is uptempo funk that reminded me of Sly & The Family Stone. "Exiled" evokes the vocal styles of Otis Redding and/or Solomon Burke, a soul-drenched love song that gradually builds to a crescendo. Baker Brooks points toward the future in "Nu Kinda Blues", a blues rap tune that puts together harp on steroids with a dance beat, churning out a solid rhythmic base with playful vocals bridging the gap between old and new. "She's Dangerous", "It Don't Work Like That" and "Your Turn (To Talk To The Blues)" also caught my ear. As Wayne explains : "Some people say I'm rock but I say I'm blues rock with a contemporary feel. I also add a little hip-hop to the equation." Check out http://www.waynebakerbrooks.com/
You can hear elements of Blues Traveler, Paul Butterfield and especially Stevie Wonder's wizardry on the chromatic harmonica when you listen to Sugar Blue , who says it all in "Bluesman", one of the standout tracks on his CD "Code Blue" ( Find it at Sugar-Blue.com), - "I'm a bluesman/That's what I am/ And if you don't like it/I don't give a damn" (Whiting-Lantieri). Blue, whose real name is James Whiting, was raised in Harlem by a mother who performed at the Apollo in the 1930s and 1940s, so he grew up around legendary performers like Billie Holiday and Big Maybelle. He plays homage to the originators with tunes like "Bad Boys Heaven", a tongue-in-cheek ballad combining barrel house piano with mouth harp, and "Chicago Blues", a brief history of the blues punctuated by Sugar's harmonica mimicking a saxophone and an accordion between the blistering runs up and down the scales. Blue - slash - Whiting really excels on "Krystalline", which describes a love affair with the "White Lady", the lyric perfectly capturing the insidious addiction. Sugar's talent has earned him the nomination for the 2008 Blues Music Award for Instrumentalist-Harmonica by the Blues Foundation.
Melvia "Chick" Rodgers doesn't waste any time in letting you know where she's coming from on her CD "Essentially Yours" (Spellbound Records) - she pays homage to both Muddy Waters, in Koko Taylor's twist on "Mannish Boy" - "I'm A Woman" - and segues into BB King's anthem "The Thrill is Gone" as part of her version of Albert King's "I'll Play The Blues For You". Her R & B credentials are firmly established in "Let's Make A Deal" , as well as Rodgers' handling of the Aretha Franklin standards "Baby I Love You" and "Ain't No Way". Chick's voice soars on her interpretations of "Over The Rainbow" and "Summertime" , breathing powerful new life into both classics. Rodgers' debut on Spellbound is due to her friendship with Koko Taylor, who asked Chick to play at her wedding in 1999. As Taylor says in the CD notes: "Chick Rodgers always respected me as a person and for my legacy. I've always called her my 'Little Chicken' ."
Some of the other artists who were new to me that took over the stage included Andrew Jr. Boy Jones, Lurrie Bell, Ruthie Foster and Lil Dave Thompson. As far as festivals are concerned, this is one of the best for variety and overall organization. I'll definitely make it next year.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Rockland Report - North Atlantic Bluesfest 2008
I tend to think that I'm living in a vacuum when it comes to propagating the blues. When I started this blog over a year ago, as well as doing "Blues With A Feeling" on WQRI 88.3 FM, I felt it was my duty to preserve the music, to make sure that the audience not only survives but expands. I was surprised to find out that people actually listened to the show; I figured I was sitting there playing the tunes for myself. Fortunately, last weekend in Rockland, Maine, I discovered not only the North Atlantic Bluesfest but also the fact that the blues are definitely alive and well.
The event has been staged for the past 15 years in and around Rockland's Harbor Park, a setting that provides a picture perfect snapshot of "the way life should be"- sails swelling with the wind as boats criscross the harbor, framed by the azure sweep of summer sky and shifting shades of blue green ocean, a far cry from the cramped clubs and modest venues that first exposed me to the likes of Paul Butterfield, BB King and Muddy Waters. It seemed incongruous at first, blending a uniquely American form of music that is typically associated with pain and sufferring into a New England postcard setting, but I was happy to see the blues getting the respect it deserves as well as an audience that cut across all ages and lifestyles.
As I sat through eight different acts over two days, I started thinking about the music industry in general, the fact that it is getting harder and harder for performers to earn a living, not to mention the liability issues that seem to sink most large outdoor events. In a world of ringtones, downloads and cookie-cutter pop "stars", authenticity and musical integrity are outmoded concepts. The blues survive because of their hardcore following, as well as those who realize the unique place the music occupies in American history. Festivals like the North Atlantic Bluesfest give the audience a chance to get up close and personal with the legends as well as the up and coming players, since each performer would hang around right after their segment to sign their CDs and meet the fans.
The best known "name" at the event was veteran guitatrist Elvin Bishop, who closed out the show on Sunday, but the lineup featured some lesser known acts that I'll be profiling here over the next couple of weeks. Meanwhile, blues aficionadoes should start planning now for North Atlantic Bluesfest 2009 - you won't be disappointed.
The event has been staged for the past 15 years in and around Rockland's Harbor Park, a setting that provides a picture perfect snapshot of "the way life should be"- sails swelling with the wind as boats criscross the harbor, framed by the azure sweep of summer sky and shifting shades of blue green ocean, a far cry from the cramped clubs and modest venues that first exposed me to the likes of Paul Butterfield, BB King and Muddy Waters. It seemed incongruous at first, blending a uniquely American form of music that is typically associated with pain and sufferring into a New England postcard setting, but I was happy to see the blues getting the respect it deserves as well as an audience that cut across all ages and lifestyles.
As I sat through eight different acts over two days, I started thinking about the music industry in general, the fact that it is getting harder and harder for performers to earn a living, not to mention the liability issues that seem to sink most large outdoor events. In a world of ringtones, downloads and cookie-cutter pop "stars", authenticity and musical integrity are outmoded concepts. The blues survive because of their hardcore following, as well as those who realize the unique place the music occupies in American history. Festivals like the North Atlantic Bluesfest give the audience a chance to get up close and personal with the legends as well as the up and coming players, since each performer would hang around right after their segment to sign their CDs and meet the fans.
The best known "name" at the event was veteran guitatrist Elvin Bishop, who closed out the show on Sunday, but the lineup featured some lesser known acts that I'll be profiling here over the next couple of weeks. Meanwhile, blues aficionadoes should start planning now for North Atlantic Bluesfest 2009 - you won't be disappointed.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Meet "Mondegreen"
"Mondegreen" is a word that lends itself to many different interpretations - it could very easily serve as the name for a heavy metal band, or a new type of ecologically-focused rock music - but it refers to one of my lifelong sources of frustration. It is analogous to W.C. Fields' famous malapropisms - like "I resemble that remark" - as well as other verbal faux pas, like "interrogation" for "integration", or numerous other examples you hear mangling English every day. The term stems from an old Scottish ballad which contains the lyric: "laid him on the green" - BUT - to many listeners, it sounds like: "Lady Mon - dee - Green", apparently evoking an obscure but titled aristocrat. The word has been added to the latest edition of Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, a sign that it has finally "arrived."as an official word.
Musical mondegreens are numerous, perhaps owing to the way lyrics are usually mumbled, muffled or screamed and loaded with incomprehensible slang, rendering them almost unintelligible to begin with. For example, one of my own personal mondegreens stems from my own daughter. She grew up listening to the occasional reggae tune, one of them being "Rivers of Babylon" by the Melodians, from the soundtrack of the ground-breaking reggae epic "The Harder They Come." The chorus goes: "By the rivers of Babylon...", but my daughter substituted the word "polliwogs" for Babylon, singing along with the Melodians by warbling: "By the river of polliwogs."
There are some very well known mondegreens sprinkled throughout some of the most popular rock anthems. Those of us who grew up with Creedence Clearwater and Jimi Hendrix in the Sixties may have really thought that John Fogarty was singing: "There's a bathroom on the right" rather than "There's a bad moon on the rise" , or that Hendrix really said: "'Scuse me while I kiss this guy" in place of "'Scuse me while I kiss the sky."
Even when I had to learn lyrics during my extremely forgettable stint singing with a rock band for a couple of months, I struggled with deciphering Robert Plant, trying to figure out which squeals equated to which words, or Paul Butterfield's "Born in Chicago", where one of the lines always sounded like: "Best thing I can say about that boy/He got laid". I still don't know the right word. Maybe that's why I like Wilson Pickett and Chuck Berry - their verses are pretty straightforward and comprehensible.
I'm sure you've got your own personal mondegreens. Feel free to submit them and I'll compile a more extensive list for a future blog.
Musical mondegreens are numerous, perhaps owing to the way lyrics are usually mumbled, muffled or screamed and loaded with incomprehensible slang, rendering them almost unintelligible to begin with. For example, one of my own personal mondegreens stems from my own daughter. She grew up listening to the occasional reggae tune, one of them being "Rivers of Babylon" by the Melodians, from the soundtrack of the ground-breaking reggae epic "The Harder They Come." The chorus goes: "By the rivers of Babylon...", but my daughter substituted the word "polliwogs" for Babylon, singing along with the Melodians by warbling: "By the river of polliwogs."
There are some very well known mondegreens sprinkled throughout some of the most popular rock anthems. Those of us who grew up with Creedence Clearwater and Jimi Hendrix in the Sixties may have really thought that John Fogarty was singing: "There's a bathroom on the right" rather than "There's a bad moon on the rise" , or that Hendrix really said: "'Scuse me while I kiss this guy" in place of "'Scuse me while I kiss the sky."
Even when I had to learn lyrics during my extremely forgettable stint singing with a rock band for a couple of months, I struggled with deciphering Robert Plant, trying to figure out which squeals equated to which words, or Paul Butterfield's "Born in Chicago", where one of the lines always sounded like: "Best thing I can say about that boy/He got laid". I still don't know the right word. Maybe that's why I like Wilson Pickett and Chuck Berry - their verses are pretty straightforward and comprehensible.
I'm sure you've got your own personal mondegreens. Feel free to submit them and I'll compile a more extensive list for a future blog.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Big Noise From Little Rhody
You would think the "Truth in Music Advertising Act" recently passed by the Rhode Island State House should have originated in New York or California, since most of the retired , decidedly over the hill performers affected by this landmark legislation live in those two states. However, the big question becomes - why is this bill so important?
Back when my generation was so obsessed with the Beatles that any kind of merchandise even vaguely suggesting the Fab Four was instantly devoured by legions of fans, an album came out called something like "Best of the Beatles" . Not only did the title allege that this particular piece of vinyl contained all their greatest hits, but also the price of the record was extremely reasonable (which should have been the first clue that something was rotten in Denmark). It was only when eager consumers actually looked at the record that they discovered the rip -off - the "Best" was actually the last name of the Beatles first drummer - so "Best of the Beatles" was a stroke of marketing genius, probably earning somebody a fast buck or two at the time, but now the record is listed the way it should be: "Pete Best: Best of the Beatles." However, truth in labelling when it comes to the recording industry is fleeting, as evidenced by a CD I bought a few years back that was jam packed with some of my favorite oldies, the cover emblazoned with the slogan "All The Original Hits". It was only when I started listening to it and discovered to my dismay that it did contain all the "original songs" - just not performed by the "original artists."
The act, which slipped through last week's dumpster diving for dollars in Providence - the result of an ever widening budgetary black hole - is a boon to the long suffering fan, since it mandates that what is loosely referred to as "the performing group" must have some artistic integrity. Specifically, the band has to include at least one person who is on a recording made by that particular group, or by the same token, have some kind of guaranteed right to the name. Sadly enough, this kind of restriction severely impacts the clubbing habits of baby boomers drawn to see a "legendary" band perform only to discover that the original members were six feet under.
The Rhode Island legislation was heavily influenced when Sha Na Na's "Bowzer" - Jon Baumann - lobbied for passage last February, stating at the time that groups like The Drifters, The Platters and the Coasters are constantly victimized by promoters and performers stealing their names. After all, how could so many state fairs, oldies clubs and other venues seemingly claim to have the same bands playing at the same time?
I think the only drawback is that this truth in oldies initiative will not be aggressively enforced, but is intended to provide pissed off audience members with the opportunity to file a complaint if they feel they've suffered an artistic rip off. The intimidation factor is the dominant force here, so the promoter out there somewhere getting ready to advertise a " Jimi Hendrix - Janis Joplin - Back From The Dead Concert" might think twice.
Unfortunately, and I do mean unfortunately, I was involved with enough nearly expired oldies acts in my short dalliance as a promoter to become totally disgusted with the entertainment business in general. Most of the acts with one or two original members have to rent extra tour buses to carry their egos; the agents talk down to you in advance, sensing that they are dealing with a "rube", warning that so and so has a reputation for not showing up, or that someone else has a wicked temper, or -most commonly - that so and so gets the souvenir revenues.
If this bill has any meaningful impact beyond the nation's smallest state, it may very well save us from a horrendous future, when Rolling Stones concerts happen simultaneously, featuring Mick Jagger's eighth cousin and Keith Richards' stepbrother appropriating the name, or Roger Daltrey's illegitimate son and Pete Towensend's ex-wife's stepbrother's cousin are the mainstays of The Who. As far as the performers are concerned, it really is a dead issue.
Back when my generation was so obsessed with the Beatles that any kind of merchandise even vaguely suggesting the Fab Four was instantly devoured by legions of fans, an album came out called something like "Best of the Beatles" . Not only did the title allege that this particular piece of vinyl contained all their greatest hits, but also the price of the record was extremely reasonable (which should have been the first clue that something was rotten in Denmark). It was only when eager consumers actually looked at the record that they discovered the rip -off - the "Best" was actually the last name of the Beatles first drummer - so "Best of the Beatles" was a stroke of marketing genius, probably earning somebody a fast buck or two at the time, but now the record is listed the way it should be: "Pete Best: Best of the Beatles." However, truth in labelling when it comes to the recording industry is fleeting, as evidenced by a CD I bought a few years back that was jam packed with some of my favorite oldies, the cover emblazoned with the slogan "All The Original Hits". It was only when I started listening to it and discovered to my dismay that it did contain all the "original songs" - just not performed by the "original artists."
The act, which slipped through last week's dumpster diving for dollars in Providence - the result of an ever widening budgetary black hole - is a boon to the long suffering fan, since it mandates that what is loosely referred to as "the performing group" must have some artistic integrity. Specifically, the band has to include at least one person who is on a recording made by that particular group, or by the same token, have some kind of guaranteed right to the name. Sadly enough, this kind of restriction severely impacts the clubbing habits of baby boomers drawn to see a "legendary" band perform only to discover that the original members were six feet under.
The Rhode Island legislation was heavily influenced when Sha Na Na's "Bowzer" - Jon Baumann - lobbied for passage last February, stating at the time that groups like The Drifters, The Platters and the Coasters are constantly victimized by promoters and performers stealing their names. After all, how could so many state fairs, oldies clubs and other venues seemingly claim to have the same bands playing at the same time?
I think the only drawback is that this truth in oldies initiative will not be aggressively enforced, but is intended to provide pissed off audience members with the opportunity to file a complaint if they feel they've suffered an artistic rip off. The intimidation factor is the dominant force here, so the promoter out there somewhere getting ready to advertise a " Jimi Hendrix - Janis Joplin - Back From The Dead Concert" might think twice.
Unfortunately, and I do mean unfortunately, I was involved with enough nearly expired oldies acts in my short dalliance as a promoter to become totally disgusted with the entertainment business in general. Most of the acts with one or two original members have to rent extra tour buses to carry their egos; the agents talk down to you in advance, sensing that they are dealing with a "rube", warning that so and so has a reputation for not showing up, or that someone else has a wicked temper, or -most commonly - that so and so gets the souvenir revenues.
If this bill has any meaningful impact beyond the nation's smallest state, it may very well save us from a horrendous future, when Rolling Stones concerts happen simultaneously, featuring Mick Jagger's eighth cousin and Keith Richards' stepbrother appropriating the name, or Roger Daltrey's illegitimate son and Pete Towensend's ex-wife's stepbrother's cousin are the mainstays of The Who. As far as the performers are concerned, it really is a dead issue.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Blues Planet
As I get ready to wrap up another year in the life, I like to look back musically on the past 365 days to catalogue those songs which had the most impact on me. No question that the blues have kept me sane in 07-08, especially these standout tunes:
"The Lights Are On" - Albert Collins
The piercing, precise picking that characterizes Collins' guitar playing defines this virtuoso run, as if it would be impossible to coax another stinging riff to top the last one, but he manages to rip right through the song. The lyrics are sparse but evocative, perfectly matched to a bluesman whose mastery of the mood and the melody was legendary. In his own way, Albert Collins was the Jimmy Page of the blues.
" That's Alright" - Etta James
I forget all about Etta until I was trolling through the CDS in a mall music emporium and found "Blues To The Bone", the diva's collection of classic blues standards. James' immense vocal range gets a workout, from the throbbing sexuality of "You Shook Me", "Little Red Rooster" and "Crawling Kingsnake" to the uptempo versions of "Got My Mojo Working" and "Driving Wheel". The song that "sticks" in my mind is a tune attributed to Jimmy Rodgers called "That's Alright". Etta's bigger than life vocals swallow the lyrics whole and spit them back out as smooth as silk, the tale of infidelity and heartbreak smoothed over by her sense of acceptance. Her penetrating voice hits just the right tone in the sardonic chorus: "Some times I wonder / Who's loving you tonight."
"Come On In My Kitchen" - Keb Mo
Keb was someone whose name had been mentioned, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover his traditional style and deep, commanding voice. The spare mix of guitar, harmonica and drums keeps repeating the same enigmatic riff in "Kitchen", perhaps in homage to the song's cryptic author, Robert Johnson. Keb's rough, powerful vocals flesh out the lyrics, the tune ending in the same abrupt, mysterious way it begins.
"Damn Right I Got The Blues" - Buddy Guy
Damn right I know who the hell Buddy Guy is, but the OLD Buddy Guy of "You Sure Can't Do", "Sweet Little Angel" and " The First Time I Met The Blues". The NEW Buddy has kept right in the groove , easing those razor sharp notes out of his axe as he wails and bellows the title tune of yet another Grammy winning CD. "Damn Right" is the main course of this gourmet blues buffet, but side dishes like "Five Long Years", "Black Night" and a re-worked, bluesy version of Wilson Pickett's classic "Mustang Sally" are lovingly prepared in the studio to near perfection.
"The Celebrated Walking Blues" - Taj Mahal
I've never really been sure about Taj Mahal since I bought his first album, the one with him sitting in a chair on the front lawn, cradling his guitar, surrounded by cartoon animals. The music was overpowering but I was dubious about his authenticity - was he the real McCoy or some ambitious college student simply playing the role? Taj's music has ranged from foot-stomping solid blues tracks to flirtations with reggae and zydeco to the simple acoustic combination of vocal and guitar. This particular song moves like molasses slowly spreading across a plate, starting out with the basic six string and rough vocals, then slowly adding in slide guitar, harmonica, bass and drums until it flows. I decided it doesn't really matter who Taj really is and what he represents. The music speaks for itself.
A few other standouts....Bonnie Raitt teaming up with Sippie Wallace on "Women Be Wise" ..."It Hurts To Love Someone" by Earl King..."Too Old To Get Married" where the blues meets good time rock and roll in the persona of Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater joining forces with Lonnie Brooks...."Black Night", "Big Mamou" and just about all the rest of the songs on Roomful of Blues' "Raisin' A Ruckus"...the list goes on. However, I have to admit as I peer fearfully back to last year that Martha Davis' "Only The Lonely" still resonates, still summarizes yet another year in the life.
"The Lights Are On" - Albert Collins
The piercing, precise picking that characterizes Collins' guitar playing defines this virtuoso run, as if it would be impossible to coax another stinging riff to top the last one, but he manages to rip right through the song. The lyrics are sparse but evocative, perfectly matched to a bluesman whose mastery of the mood and the melody was legendary. In his own way, Albert Collins was the Jimmy Page of the blues.
" That's Alright" - Etta James
I forget all about Etta until I was trolling through the CDS in a mall music emporium and found "Blues To The Bone", the diva's collection of classic blues standards. James' immense vocal range gets a workout, from the throbbing sexuality of "You Shook Me", "Little Red Rooster" and "Crawling Kingsnake" to the uptempo versions of "Got My Mojo Working" and "Driving Wheel". The song that "sticks" in my mind is a tune attributed to Jimmy Rodgers called "That's Alright". Etta's bigger than life vocals swallow the lyrics whole and spit them back out as smooth as silk, the tale of infidelity and heartbreak smoothed over by her sense of acceptance. Her penetrating voice hits just the right tone in the sardonic chorus: "Some times I wonder / Who's loving you tonight."
"Come On In My Kitchen" - Keb Mo
Keb was someone whose name had been mentioned, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover his traditional style and deep, commanding voice. The spare mix of guitar, harmonica and drums keeps repeating the same enigmatic riff in "Kitchen", perhaps in homage to the song's cryptic author, Robert Johnson. Keb's rough, powerful vocals flesh out the lyrics, the tune ending in the same abrupt, mysterious way it begins.
"Damn Right I Got The Blues" - Buddy Guy
Damn right I know who the hell Buddy Guy is, but the OLD Buddy Guy of "You Sure Can't Do", "Sweet Little Angel" and " The First Time I Met The Blues". The NEW Buddy has kept right in the groove , easing those razor sharp notes out of his axe as he wails and bellows the title tune of yet another Grammy winning CD. "Damn Right" is the main course of this gourmet blues buffet, but side dishes like "Five Long Years", "Black Night" and a re-worked, bluesy version of Wilson Pickett's classic "Mustang Sally" are lovingly prepared in the studio to near perfection.
"The Celebrated Walking Blues" - Taj Mahal
I've never really been sure about Taj Mahal since I bought his first album, the one with him sitting in a chair on the front lawn, cradling his guitar, surrounded by cartoon animals. The music was overpowering but I was dubious about his authenticity - was he the real McCoy or some ambitious college student simply playing the role? Taj's music has ranged from foot-stomping solid blues tracks to flirtations with reggae and zydeco to the simple acoustic combination of vocal and guitar. This particular song moves like molasses slowly spreading across a plate, starting out with the basic six string and rough vocals, then slowly adding in slide guitar, harmonica, bass and drums until it flows. I decided it doesn't really matter who Taj really is and what he represents. The music speaks for itself.
A few other standouts....Bonnie Raitt teaming up with Sippie Wallace on "Women Be Wise" ..."It Hurts To Love Someone" by Earl King..."Too Old To Get Married" where the blues meets good time rock and roll in the persona of Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater joining forces with Lonnie Brooks...."Black Night", "Big Mamou" and just about all the rest of the songs on Roomful of Blues' "Raisin' A Ruckus"...the list goes on. However, I have to admit as I peer fearfully back to last year that Martha Davis' "Only The Lonely" still resonates, still summarizes yet another year in the life.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Bye Bo
One of the first real rock and roll albums I bought was a Bo Diddley disc on sale at the Bunch of Grapes in Vineyard Haven. I had graduated from the folkie wave and gotten swept up in the psychedelic tsunami of the 1960s, but that old time rock and roll kept pulling me back, especially Chuck Berry's Golden Decade, a Chess double album set that tracks nearly every Berry hit, on which I had spent most of my meager summer job earnings one week, adding the Diddley album as an afterthought .
I thought Bo was boring at first. Most of the tunes had that trademark "thumpa-thumpa-thump- THUMP THUMP". True, it was lively and bouncy but redundant. I liked Bo's sense of humor - you could tell from titles like "Mushmouth Millie", "Bo Diddley's Hootenanny" and one song that features him mocking an English accent that he didn't take himself too seriously. I've always felt that the rock and roll pioneers had the right attitude about the music - big and bold and laced with tongue-in-cheek humor. Two of Diddley's signature tunes stood out: "Can't Judge A Book" and "Who Do You Love?" Both tunes have been covered by The Fabulous Thunderbirds, George Thorogood and Tom Rush, just to name a few. The lyrics combine that brash sense of satire with a hint of menace, especially the latter, with one of Bo's most famous refrains: " Got a brand new house on the roadside/Made out of rattlesnake hide/Little bitty chimney up on top/Made out of a human skull" and "Got a cobra snake for a necktie." I lost my Diddley album somehow in the chaos of constantly shifting from one apartment to the next, and proceeded to pretty much forget about Bo. His distinctive guitar musings would crop up when I least expected it, most notably using the single "Bo Diddley" as the soundtrack for the depiction of Harlem in the R. Crumb classic "Fritz the Cat".
Then I picked up a 4 CD set of blues tunes that just happened to be sprinkled with some outstanding live performances featuring Diddley at his finest. Since the songs were on one of those minimally-labelled, deeply discounted collections of music randomly thrown together, there is absolutely no information about where or when the cuts were recorded, so it's impossible to provide any details about the flawless performances of "Can't Judge..." (In which Bo actually stops the tune in the beginning to laugh at the audience), "Mona" (Standard thumpa-thumpa-thump-THUMP-THUMP, packed with exceptional guitar and sax solos) " Road Runner" (I grew up listening to Junior Walker's version) and a vaguely psychedelic "Dr. Jeckyll". Probably the best collection that really covers most of Ellis McDaniel's (Bo's real name) output is another CD I borrowed from a friend that was called (I think) "Rare and Well Done". I always thought that "I'm A Man" was a Muddy Waters composition, but it turns out it was the flip side of the "Bo Diddley" single released by Chess in 1955.
Ironically, the day before Bo Diddley died in Florida at the age of 79, I had been thinking about trying to find the "Rare" CD to add to my collection. I was actually hoping to see Diddley and his trademark rectangular guitar in person, but I'll have to settle for his legacy.
I thought Bo was boring at first. Most of the tunes had that trademark "thumpa-thumpa-thump- THUMP THUMP". True, it was lively and bouncy but redundant. I liked Bo's sense of humor - you could tell from titles like "Mushmouth Millie", "Bo Diddley's Hootenanny" and one song that features him mocking an English accent that he didn't take himself too seriously. I've always felt that the rock and roll pioneers had the right attitude about the music - big and bold and laced with tongue-in-cheek humor. Two of Diddley's signature tunes stood out: "Can't Judge A Book" and "Who Do You Love?" Both tunes have been covered by The Fabulous Thunderbirds, George Thorogood and Tom Rush, just to name a few. The lyrics combine that brash sense of satire with a hint of menace, especially the latter, with one of Bo's most famous refrains: " Got a brand new house on the roadside/Made out of rattlesnake hide/Little bitty chimney up on top/Made out of a human skull" and "Got a cobra snake for a necktie." I lost my Diddley album somehow in the chaos of constantly shifting from one apartment to the next, and proceeded to pretty much forget about Bo. His distinctive guitar musings would crop up when I least expected it, most notably using the single "Bo Diddley" as the soundtrack for the depiction of Harlem in the R. Crumb classic "Fritz the Cat".
Then I picked up a 4 CD set of blues tunes that just happened to be sprinkled with some outstanding live performances featuring Diddley at his finest. Since the songs were on one of those minimally-labelled, deeply discounted collections of music randomly thrown together, there is absolutely no information about where or when the cuts were recorded, so it's impossible to provide any details about the flawless performances of "Can't Judge..." (In which Bo actually stops the tune in the beginning to laugh at the audience), "Mona" (Standard thumpa-thumpa-thump-THUMP-THUMP, packed with exceptional guitar and sax solos) " Road Runner" (I grew up listening to Junior Walker's version) and a vaguely psychedelic "Dr. Jeckyll". Probably the best collection that really covers most of Ellis McDaniel's (Bo's real name) output is another CD I borrowed from a friend that was called (I think) "Rare and Well Done". I always thought that "I'm A Man" was a Muddy Waters composition, but it turns out it was the flip side of the "Bo Diddley" single released by Chess in 1955.
Ironically, the day before Bo Diddley died in Florida at the age of 79, I had been thinking about trying to find the "Rare" CD to add to my collection. I was actually hoping to see Diddley and his trademark rectangular guitar in person, but I'll have to settle for his legacy.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Jah Mon
I set myself up when I picked the name for this blog, mainly because I've also been listening to reggae and ska for decades AS WELL as blues,soul and rock and roll, which is why it was such a privilege to spend the last week in Montego Bay, Jamaica. Not only was the weather idyllic (although incredibly hot and HUMID!) but the sounds of the island were everywhere.
The first surprise was how much the nation has embraced Bob Marley. There are Marley hats, tee shirts, wristbands, keepsake boxes, athletic socks, underwear, rolling papers and of course, CDs. I found it ironic that the Jamaican government has decided to promote a Rasta artist who came to prominence singing songs like "Burning and looting tonight / Burning all pollution in sight" or "Get up/Stand up/ Stand up for your rights", the anthems of the "rude boys." In effect, it's as if reggae's best known rebel has been co-opted as the national brand. The next time you are mesmerized by the technicolor images of cobalt sea and milk white sand, with Marley warbling: "One love/ One heart" , listen to the original song lyrics, which have very little to do with harmony. Personally, I've always thought that Peter Tosh deserves more credit for his role in the Wailers as well as a solo artist. His commanding voice, outlaw persona, and obvious contempt for Jamaican society, plus his confrontational compositions - "Legalize It", "Get Up Stand Up", "Wanted Dread or Alive" - seem to make Tosh a little too controversial for marketing overseas.
I've always felt that reggae was partially the precursor to rap. Toots and the Maytals have taken credit for naming the music, Toots explaining that the term means "regular" , or , as he puts it, "coming from the people". The content of reggae songs , excluding the ubiquitous love ballads, is mostly about political oppression, social issues, and the Rastafarian philosophy, one of the primary outlets for Jamaican artists to comment on their lives to a worldwide audience. In addition to using the music to advocate social change, many reggae performers would experiment with vocal rhythms and nuances as well. Although the connection between the two is tenuous, it is further evidenced by the various rappers who have incorporated reggae beats and intonations into their music.
I am a personal fan of what is called "dub" music. Dubbing refers to taking a familiar melody, stripping away the words and inserting your own commentary ( also referred to as "skanking") as well as utilizing intense reverb, echo, feedback, and any other musical device that comes to mind after consuming copious amounts of ganja. I managed to pick up a copy of "Superdub on Overdrive", featuring the superior talents of Robbie Shakespeare and Sly Dunbar. Besides doing covers of "Peter Gunn", "Roxanne" and "If I Were A Rich Man", they seem to have produced most of the CD trapped in an echo chamber, experimenting with turning the melodies inside out and then drifting wherever the music takes them.
Of course you can still hear the strains of the traditional Caribbean ballads made famous by Harry Belafonte, the familiar refrains like: "Daylight come and me want to go home" or "Sad to say/I'm on my way/Won't be back for many a day", right up there with rum punch, jerked chicken and duty free shopping. The "music of the people" tells a different story, the "riddims" of a Third World nation struggling with devastating poverty, uncontrollable crime and defining the true Jamaican identity.
Personally, I still wanted to find anything by The Mighty Diamonds, Big Youth, Max Romeo and a few others, but the clerk at the El Paso in Montego Bay was clueless when I asked for specifics, gesturing instead at the wall of reggae CDs. In retrospect,this was a fortunate development. Now I'll absolutely positively have to go back.
The first surprise was how much the nation has embraced Bob Marley. There are Marley hats, tee shirts, wristbands, keepsake boxes, athletic socks, underwear, rolling papers and of course, CDs. I found it ironic that the Jamaican government has decided to promote a Rasta artist who came to prominence singing songs like "Burning and looting tonight / Burning all pollution in sight" or "Get up/Stand up/ Stand up for your rights", the anthems of the "rude boys." In effect, it's as if reggae's best known rebel has been co-opted as the national brand. The next time you are mesmerized by the technicolor images of cobalt sea and milk white sand, with Marley warbling: "One love/ One heart" , listen to the original song lyrics, which have very little to do with harmony. Personally, I've always thought that Peter Tosh deserves more credit for his role in the Wailers as well as a solo artist. His commanding voice, outlaw persona, and obvious contempt for Jamaican society, plus his confrontational compositions - "Legalize It", "Get Up Stand Up", "Wanted Dread or Alive" - seem to make Tosh a little too controversial for marketing overseas.
I've always felt that reggae was partially the precursor to rap. Toots and the Maytals have taken credit for naming the music, Toots explaining that the term means "regular" , or , as he puts it, "coming from the people". The content of reggae songs , excluding the ubiquitous love ballads, is mostly about political oppression, social issues, and the Rastafarian philosophy, one of the primary outlets for Jamaican artists to comment on their lives to a worldwide audience. In addition to using the music to advocate social change, many reggae performers would experiment with vocal rhythms and nuances as well. Although the connection between the two is tenuous, it is further evidenced by the various rappers who have incorporated reggae beats and intonations into their music.
I am a personal fan of what is called "dub" music. Dubbing refers to taking a familiar melody, stripping away the words and inserting your own commentary ( also referred to as "skanking") as well as utilizing intense reverb, echo, feedback, and any other musical device that comes to mind after consuming copious amounts of ganja. I managed to pick up a copy of "Superdub on Overdrive", featuring the superior talents of Robbie Shakespeare and Sly Dunbar. Besides doing covers of "Peter Gunn", "Roxanne" and "If I Were A Rich Man", they seem to have produced most of the CD trapped in an echo chamber, experimenting with turning the melodies inside out and then drifting wherever the music takes them.
Of course you can still hear the strains of the traditional Caribbean ballads made famous by Harry Belafonte, the familiar refrains like: "Daylight come and me want to go home" or "Sad to say/I'm on my way/Won't be back for many a day", right up there with rum punch, jerked chicken and duty free shopping. The "music of the people" tells a different story, the "riddims" of a Third World nation struggling with devastating poverty, uncontrollable crime and defining the true Jamaican identity.
Personally, I still wanted to find anything by The Mighty Diamonds, Big Youth, Max Romeo and a few others, but the clerk at the El Paso in Montego Bay was clueless when I asked for specifics, gesturing instead at the wall of reggae CDs. In retrospect,this was a fortunate development. Now I'll absolutely positively have to go back.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
The Jughead Chronicles, Part 3: Memphis Rules
The advent of the phonograph in the early decades of the Twentieth Century helped to spread jug band music from the South to the rest of the country, according to amateur musicologist Will Melton, who is BSRR's special guest for this short series on the jug bands. The Dixieland Jug Blowers from Louisville recorded "Love Blues" in a Chicago studio in 1926.
BSRR:
That's a great jug band tune, but the record features horns as well.
WILL MELTON:
"Love Blues" is one of the early jug band recordings, but by this time the bands had been around for more than two decades. They were experimenting and adding more traditional instruments, and this band was one of the most technically sophisticated. Most of us don't associate Cincinnati with musical innovation, but there were some great jug band musicians there in the 1920s, especially Kid Cole, whose real name was probably Bob Coleman. He was the leader of King David's Jug Band.
BSRR:
You don't normally think of Cincinnati and Louisville as Southern towns. Where else were the bands coming from?
MELTON:
The Birmingham Jug Band was the best known in Alabama. This band featured the harmonica, which became an important jug band instrument. The band's leading musician was Jaybird Coleman, often using his voice and harmonica in a call and response pattern.
I like to say "The jug bands taught the blues to dance". That was especially true with the Memphis bands. And Memphis was where the jug bands most influenced the blues. Memphis is the gateway to the Delta. As one writer put it: " The Mississippi Delta begins in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis." Today Memphis calls itself Blues City and Beale Street is the legendary hub. In the 1920s, the area around Beale Street was a center for prostitution and gambling and a very dangerous place after dark. This is where the jug bands held forth. Though they hung around the seediest part of Memphis, wealthy white businessman would hire the bands to play for barbecues and stag parties, even in the stuffy old Peabody Hotel. One of the great jug bands for dance rhythms , for example , was Jed Davenport and his Beale Street Jug Band.
BSRR:
Did the Memphis jug bands pick up on the sounds of the great Delta guitarists?
MELTON:
You bet. Many of those Delta guitarists came to Memphis, the biggest city in the Delta to play and record. One band that comes to mind with that distinctive Delta sound is Jack Kelly and the South Memphis Jug Band.
BSRR:
What was the first Memphis jug band?
MELTON:
Will Shade was the pioneer and he formed a band called The Memphis Jug Band. They recorded dozens of songs under that name for the companies recording in Memphis. It was a loose ensemble and he was quite a crafty band manager. He took advantage of every recording company he could and avoided contract problems by changing the name of the group. The Carolina Peanut Boys, The Dallas Jug Band, and The Memphis Sheiks are just a few of the names he used. And he didn't hesitate to switch between male and female singers, helping to launch the career of singer guitarist Memphis Minnie McCoy, among others. They had a terrific mix of vocals, kazoos, harmonicas, wash tub bass, strings, and, of course, jug. One of their classic songs dates from 1928, called the Overseas Stomp, which was written for dancers doing the Lindy Hop, a dance craze that celebrated Charles Lindberg's solo flight across the Atlantic.
BSRR:
You've said that the jug bands influenced lots of the bands that launched the music revolution of the 1960s. What are some examples?
MELTON:
There was a revival of the jug bands in the 1960s in America. The Lovin' Spoonful and the Grateful Dead started out as jug bands. In England, they were called "skiffle" bands and some of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones were fans of the music. Folk guitarist Dave Van Ronk was one of the first 60s musicians to cover a song by the Memphis Jug Band called "Stealin', Stealin'".
BSRR:
What about the new jug band documentary?
MELTON:
It is by an indie film maker and it is called "Chasin' Gus' Ghost". It is making the rounds of music festivals in Cleveland and Louisville among other places. The film features John Sebastian of the Lovin' Spoonful, Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead and Jim Kweskin, the leader of the most famous of the 1960s jug bands, which showcased a young Maria Muldaur as lead singer. Google the title to learn more - Chasin' Gus' Ghost. It refers to Gus Cannon, who lead another one of the famous Memphis jug bands, Cannon's Jug Stompers. When The Rooftop Singers covered Gus Cannon's song "Walk Right In" in 1963, the record shot to #1 in the charts and jug band music was back in the news.
BSRR:
Did that make Gus Cannon famous?
MELTON:
I wouldn't say that. Will Shade and Gus Cannon were still alive in 1963 and they tried to capitalize on the song by recording an album of the music they'd played years before. It was a modest success. But the Jim Kweskin Jug Band recorded dozens of songs over the next decade, many of them by Gus Cannon and Will Shade, joining in the folk music revival.
( Editor's Note: Many thanks to Will Melton for his insights on jug band music. More on this topic in future posts. )
BSRR:
That's a great jug band tune, but the record features horns as well.
WILL MELTON:
"Love Blues" is one of the early jug band recordings, but by this time the bands had been around for more than two decades. They were experimenting and adding more traditional instruments, and this band was one of the most technically sophisticated. Most of us don't associate Cincinnati with musical innovation, but there were some great jug band musicians there in the 1920s, especially Kid Cole, whose real name was probably Bob Coleman. He was the leader of King David's Jug Band.
BSRR:
You don't normally think of Cincinnati and Louisville as Southern towns. Where else were the bands coming from?
MELTON:
The Birmingham Jug Band was the best known in Alabama. This band featured the harmonica, which became an important jug band instrument. The band's leading musician was Jaybird Coleman, often using his voice and harmonica in a call and response pattern.
I like to say "The jug bands taught the blues to dance". That was especially true with the Memphis bands. And Memphis was where the jug bands most influenced the blues. Memphis is the gateway to the Delta. As one writer put it: " The Mississippi Delta begins in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis." Today Memphis calls itself Blues City and Beale Street is the legendary hub. In the 1920s, the area around Beale Street was a center for prostitution and gambling and a very dangerous place after dark. This is where the jug bands held forth. Though they hung around the seediest part of Memphis, wealthy white businessman would hire the bands to play for barbecues and stag parties, even in the stuffy old Peabody Hotel. One of the great jug bands for dance rhythms , for example , was Jed Davenport and his Beale Street Jug Band.
BSRR:
Did the Memphis jug bands pick up on the sounds of the great Delta guitarists?
MELTON:
You bet. Many of those Delta guitarists came to Memphis, the biggest city in the Delta to play and record. One band that comes to mind with that distinctive Delta sound is Jack Kelly and the South Memphis Jug Band.
BSRR:
What was the first Memphis jug band?
MELTON:
Will Shade was the pioneer and he formed a band called The Memphis Jug Band. They recorded dozens of songs under that name for the companies recording in Memphis. It was a loose ensemble and he was quite a crafty band manager. He took advantage of every recording company he could and avoided contract problems by changing the name of the group. The Carolina Peanut Boys, The Dallas Jug Band, and The Memphis Sheiks are just a few of the names he used. And he didn't hesitate to switch between male and female singers, helping to launch the career of singer guitarist Memphis Minnie McCoy, among others. They had a terrific mix of vocals, kazoos, harmonicas, wash tub bass, strings, and, of course, jug. One of their classic songs dates from 1928, called the Overseas Stomp, which was written for dancers doing the Lindy Hop, a dance craze that celebrated Charles Lindberg's solo flight across the Atlantic.
BSRR:
You've said that the jug bands influenced lots of the bands that launched the music revolution of the 1960s. What are some examples?
MELTON:
There was a revival of the jug bands in the 1960s in America. The Lovin' Spoonful and the Grateful Dead started out as jug bands. In England, they were called "skiffle" bands and some of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones were fans of the music. Folk guitarist Dave Van Ronk was one of the first 60s musicians to cover a song by the Memphis Jug Band called "Stealin', Stealin'".
BSRR:
What about the new jug band documentary?
MELTON:
It is by an indie film maker and it is called "Chasin' Gus' Ghost". It is making the rounds of music festivals in Cleveland and Louisville among other places. The film features John Sebastian of the Lovin' Spoonful, Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead and Jim Kweskin, the leader of the most famous of the 1960s jug bands, which showcased a young Maria Muldaur as lead singer. Google the title to learn more - Chasin' Gus' Ghost. It refers to Gus Cannon, who lead another one of the famous Memphis jug bands, Cannon's Jug Stompers. When The Rooftop Singers covered Gus Cannon's song "Walk Right In" in 1963, the record shot to #1 in the charts and jug band music was back in the news.
BSRR:
Did that make Gus Cannon famous?
MELTON:
I wouldn't say that. Will Shade and Gus Cannon were still alive in 1963 and they tried to capitalize on the song by recording an album of the music they'd played years before. It was a modest success. But the Jim Kweskin Jug Band recorded dozens of songs over the next decade, many of them by Gus Cannon and Will Shade, joining in the folk music revival.
( Editor's Note: Many thanks to Will Melton for his insights on jug band music. More on this topic in future posts. )
Monday, May 5, 2008
The Jughead Chronicles, Part 2 : Will Speaks
The quest to document and preserve the musical output of the jug bands that rose and fell in the South during the opening decades of the Twentieth Century is being partially undertaken by a self styled aficionado and performer of the music by the name of Will Melton. Not only is he a walking encyclopedia of names and dates but he also plays and sings in several musical groups, plus constantly researching and acquiring new tunes. Will was a guest on BSRR's radio show last Sunday and shed some light on the genre:
BSRR:
So what is a jug band?
WILL MELTON:
It's one of the roots of the blues in this country, and a music style of the pre-war era that appealed to both black and white audiences. The basic idea was to start with some string instruments - fiddle, guitar, banjo, mandolin, and enrich the sound with homemade instruments. A bass fiddle might cost too much, but an old washtub would do if you turned it upside down, attached a cord to it with a broomstick connected to pull the string tight. And the sound of the tuba could be made by blowing into a large jug (that) you blow into like a soda bottle. A toy kazoo serves well as a low cost trumpet, and other things you have lying around the house, like a washboard, could be sounded with thimbles or spoons to create new percussion ideas. So the jug band was the poor man's orchestra. Then you add to that lots of hokum - jokes, double entendre and horsin' around and the result was a very entertaining act.
BSRR:
Who was the first jug band?
MELTON:
In 1898, two banjo players from Kentucky were looking for work in southwest Virginia. They were playing on a porch with their friends, the Anderson brothers, when a neighbor came over with an empty jug and started laying down a bass line, like a tuba part. When they finished playing they asked the old man about his instrument and all he could say was " I just picked it up and started blowing." Then he gave them some advice: " Look around for the right jug; a jug is a jug if you want whiskey, but if you want to blow on it, find one that's got music in it." They headed for Louisville and formed the Cy Anderson Jug Band. Soon they were making real money playing for Kentucky Derby crowds and on riverboats along the Ohio River. So the Cy Anderson Jug Band made Louisville their base but spent much of the next seven years playing the Ohio River towns and the jug band craze was born. It lasted for much of the next 30 years. But Louisville was where it first got rooted, followed soon after by Cincinnati, a city upriver on the Ohio. The Louisville bands like Whistler's Jug Band had a sound that bridged the blues and jazz. They had a Dixieland banjo sound.
BSRR:
What happened when the phonograph was invented? What kind of impact did that have on the jug bands?
MELTON:
From the 1910s to the 1930s, Jug Bands were hot and some of the most often hard ensembles in the small towns across the South. But the phonograph opened the whole country to the sound. Once again, Louisville was the originator. In 1926 Louisville's own Dixieland Jug Blowers made the first jug band recording in a Chicago studio.
Next - Jug Bands and the Blues Meet in the Memphis Sound
BSRR:
So what is a jug band?
WILL MELTON:
It's one of the roots of the blues in this country, and a music style of the pre-war era that appealed to both black and white audiences. The basic idea was to start with some string instruments - fiddle, guitar, banjo, mandolin, and enrich the sound with homemade instruments. A bass fiddle might cost too much, but an old washtub would do if you turned it upside down, attached a cord to it with a broomstick connected to pull the string tight. And the sound of the tuba could be made by blowing into a large jug (that) you blow into like a soda bottle. A toy kazoo serves well as a low cost trumpet, and other things you have lying around the house, like a washboard, could be sounded with thimbles or spoons to create new percussion ideas. So the jug band was the poor man's orchestra. Then you add to that lots of hokum - jokes, double entendre and horsin' around and the result was a very entertaining act.
BSRR:
Who was the first jug band?
MELTON:
In 1898, two banjo players from Kentucky were looking for work in southwest Virginia. They were playing on a porch with their friends, the Anderson brothers, when a neighbor came over with an empty jug and started laying down a bass line, like a tuba part. When they finished playing they asked the old man about his instrument and all he could say was " I just picked it up and started blowing." Then he gave them some advice: " Look around for the right jug; a jug is a jug if you want whiskey, but if you want to blow on it, find one that's got music in it." They headed for Louisville and formed the Cy Anderson Jug Band. Soon they were making real money playing for Kentucky Derby crowds and on riverboats along the Ohio River. So the Cy Anderson Jug Band made Louisville their base but spent much of the next seven years playing the Ohio River towns and the jug band craze was born. It lasted for much of the next 30 years. But Louisville was where it first got rooted, followed soon after by Cincinnati, a city upriver on the Ohio. The Louisville bands like Whistler's Jug Band had a sound that bridged the blues and jazz. They had a Dixieland banjo sound.
BSRR:
What happened when the phonograph was invented? What kind of impact did that have on the jug bands?
MELTON:
From the 1910s to the 1930s, Jug Bands were hot and some of the most often hard ensembles in the small towns across the South. But the phonograph opened the whole country to the sound. Once again, Louisville was the originator. In 1926 Louisville's own Dixieland Jug Blowers made the first jug band recording in a Chicago studio.
Next - Jug Bands and the Blues Meet in the Memphis Sound
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Jughead Chronicles, Part 1
I've resisted telling the truth about my musical ability - or lack of - for over a year, but I can't hide it any longer - I'm a jug player.
I'm sure many of you are asking yourselves: "What is a jug and how do you play it?" The term "jug" - in fact - refers to an actual jug as in " Hand me that jug of moonshine, Billy Bob". Although it is not advisable to begin jug lessions with a full container of white lightning, the shape remains the same whether made of plastic, ceramics or whatever. Jug players simply blow across the open top of the requisite jug to produce sound and voila! - you have an instrument. However, the list of jug virtuosos who've met sudden death from inhaling a mouthful of bleach is fairly long, so, if you're thinking about pursuing the jug for fun and profit, make sure that your chosen instrument is totally empty and preferably washed before you use it.
Producing sound from the jug is problematic. You generate one type of tone by blowing across, but something entirely different by blowing - or spitting - into the jug itself. I guess you could say that one approach is more melodic while the other is closer to rthymn. It requires quite a bit of air and constant stomach motion to play the jug, which illustrates another occupational hazard associated with the instrument - never eat before a performance. In addition, vigorous playing typically generates spittle, so the conscentious jug player should avoid standing too close to anybody, and remember to empty the instrument regularly.
Embarking on a career as an itinerant jug virtouso has its drawbacks - you will, for example, never be able to pass the hat as you play on a streetcorner as the spray tends to keep people at a distance. Yet, there are some advantages. As long as you don't lose your hearing, you'll never have to tune up before a performance. You won't have to worry about buying any expensive instruments - just visit the local landfill to find a ready supply.
Personally, playing the jug has been rewarding. It has allowed me to pretend to be a musician, and lose weight in the balance from not eating those gluttonous special occaision dinners. I'm not sure if young jug players coming up these days are finding the profession lucrative, but I hope the tradition continues. Meanwhile, I'm hard at work finishing up my masterpiece- Quartet for Jug and Harpsichord Minus Two Instruments. Who says that Mozart or Beethoven wouldn't have turned to the jug if it wasn't so much easier to play a keyboard? One day the lowly plastic empty Clorox bottle will get the respect it deserves.
I'm sure many of you are asking yourselves: "What is a jug and how do you play it?" The term "jug" - in fact - refers to an actual jug as in " Hand me that jug of moonshine, Billy Bob". Although it is not advisable to begin jug lessions with a full container of white lightning, the shape remains the same whether made of plastic, ceramics or whatever. Jug players simply blow across the open top of the requisite jug to produce sound and voila! - you have an instrument. However, the list of jug virtuosos who've met sudden death from inhaling a mouthful of bleach is fairly long, so, if you're thinking about pursuing the jug for fun and profit, make sure that your chosen instrument is totally empty and preferably washed before you use it.
Producing sound from the jug is problematic. You generate one type of tone by blowing across, but something entirely different by blowing - or spitting - into the jug itself. I guess you could say that one approach is more melodic while the other is closer to rthymn. It requires quite a bit of air and constant stomach motion to play the jug, which illustrates another occupational hazard associated with the instrument - never eat before a performance. In addition, vigorous playing typically generates spittle, so the conscentious jug player should avoid standing too close to anybody, and remember to empty the instrument regularly.
Embarking on a career as an itinerant jug virtouso has its drawbacks - you will, for example, never be able to pass the hat as you play on a streetcorner as the spray tends to keep people at a distance. Yet, there are some advantages. As long as you don't lose your hearing, you'll never have to tune up before a performance. You won't have to worry about buying any expensive instruments - just visit the local landfill to find a ready supply.
Personally, playing the jug has been rewarding. It has allowed me to pretend to be a musician, and lose weight in the balance from not eating those gluttonous special occaision dinners. I'm not sure if young jug players coming up these days are finding the profession lucrative, but I hope the tradition continues. Meanwhile, I'm hard at work finishing up my masterpiece- Quartet for Jug and Harpsichord Minus Two Instruments. Who says that Mozart or Beethoven wouldn't have turned to the jug if it wasn't so much easier to play a keyboard? One day the lowly plastic empty Clorox bottle will get the respect it deserves.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Deejay's Disease
I have been trying hard in my latest radio reincarnation to avoid the affliction, but it appears to have snuck up on me. Nevertheless, I am determined to fight the curse of repitition, the almost incurable condition of playing the same song at the same time in the same show. For example, I worked with one former personality who shall remain nameless who played "Jumping Jack Flash" every day approximately halfway through his show. The upside was a benefit for those who like the song as well as people who don't wear watches, because the timing was reliable, but ultimately, his preoccupation with the song began to destroy his credibility.
In most cases these days, song selection relative to on air product is tightly controlled which, based on the slow motion collapse of the recording industry, is totally understandable. Consequently, repitition is not eradicated but is used as a tool to drive sales. However, those of us in the lower echelons of broadcasting who can still pick and play their own cuts are not subject to the vagaries of program and/or music directors, which means people like me have to really pay attention to the on-air product.
I started keeping playlists a few months back. I was scared that I was falling into the same trap. Despite this attempt at keeping the tunes fresh, my lists clearly show that I played Keb Mo's version of Robert Johnson's "Come On In My Kitchen" during the last half hour of my show two weeks in a row. I've really broken the rules with "The Lights Are On" by Albert Collins, mainly because I can't get enough of Albert Collins, but the evidence shows that I've played this song nearly every program. The same can be said of Buddy Guy's " Damn Right I've Got The Blues" or "Got My Mojo Working" by Etta James or "Don't Lose My Number" from Blood Brothers by Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King or "Blues With A Feeling" from Paul Butterfield's first album (also the name of the show) or "Mother In Law Blues" by Little Junior Parker. I find myself still unable to resist playing these songs even though I know what I'm doing. In order to manage my addiction, I've come up with a long list of rationalizations: I don' t get paid so who cares - nobody listens - the show's only once a week - but none of these excuses help the poor listener.
I'm not sure what will cure this habit. Certainly new product always helps. But the other concern is that blues songs tend to be covered by various artists thus adding to that "I keep hearing the same song" feeling. For example, I've got versions of "The Sky Is Crying" by Elmore James, Stevie Ray Vaughan, George Thorogood and Etta James; "Black Night" in my modest music library is performed by Roomful of Blues, Charles Brown, James Cotton, and Buddy Guy.
What's a poor unpaid, unassuming air personality to do? I'll try my best to fight my instincts and remember the most important factor in radio - the audience.
In most cases these days, song selection relative to on air product is tightly controlled which, based on the slow motion collapse of the recording industry, is totally understandable. Consequently, repitition is not eradicated but is used as a tool to drive sales. However, those of us in the lower echelons of broadcasting who can still pick and play their own cuts are not subject to the vagaries of program and/or music directors, which means people like me have to really pay attention to the on-air product.
I started keeping playlists a few months back. I was scared that I was falling into the same trap. Despite this attempt at keeping the tunes fresh, my lists clearly show that I played Keb Mo's version of Robert Johnson's "Come On In My Kitchen" during the last half hour of my show two weeks in a row. I've really broken the rules with "The Lights Are On" by Albert Collins, mainly because I can't get enough of Albert Collins, but the evidence shows that I've played this song nearly every program. The same can be said of Buddy Guy's " Damn Right I've Got The Blues" or "Got My Mojo Working" by Etta James or "Don't Lose My Number" from Blood Brothers by Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King or "Blues With A Feeling" from Paul Butterfield's first album (also the name of the show) or "Mother In Law Blues" by Little Junior Parker. I find myself still unable to resist playing these songs even though I know what I'm doing. In order to manage my addiction, I've come up with a long list of rationalizations: I don' t get paid so who cares - nobody listens - the show's only once a week - but none of these excuses help the poor listener.
I'm not sure what will cure this habit. Certainly new product always helps. But the other concern is that blues songs tend to be covered by various artists thus adding to that "I keep hearing the same song" feeling. For example, I've got versions of "The Sky Is Crying" by Elmore James, Stevie Ray Vaughan, George Thorogood and Etta James; "Black Night" in my modest music library is performed by Roomful of Blues, Charles Brown, James Cotton, and Buddy Guy.
What's a poor unpaid, unassuming air personality to do? I'll try my best to fight my instincts and remember the most important factor in radio - the audience.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Raisin a Ruckus With Roomful of Blues
For a little state, Rhode Island is big on the blues, and the best example of that is Roomful of Blues. BSRR caught with them last weekend at Chan's in Woonsocket for a sold out show, and spent a few minutes talking to lead guitarist Chris Vachon:
BSRR:
It's been a rough year for you guys. Can you tell us what happened and how the benefit went a couple of weeks ago?
CHRIS VACHON:
Most people know that Bob Enos passed away on the road with us. He had been in the band for 28 years. It was a big shock to us. It really took a lot out of us. We still haven't really gotten over it. We just had a benefit for him at Rhodes-on-the-Pawtuxet in Providence, Rhode Island. It went over really well. About 850 people showed up. It was to benefit his family. We're proud about that.
BSRR:
How's the response so far to "Raising a Ruckus"?
CHRIS VACHON:
It's been very good. We've been on the Billboard charts since it came out. We've charted every week.
BSRR:
How long ago and how did you guys form originally?
CHRIS VACHON:
It was Duke Robillard and Al Copley that started the band. That was around 1971. Just kind of a straight up Chicago blues band without horns. They added horns a couple of years later. It's been going on ever since, so I guess it's probably 39 years now, something like that.
BSRR:
All the years you guys have played and now, finally, fame's catching up with you.
CHRIS VACHON:
Yeah, right.
BSRR:
I wanted to ask you about the song "While I Can". Tell me a little bit about that song.
CHRIS VACHON:
That's my wife's song. She wrote that. She wrote the words and I had an idea what to do with it. I helped her out with music and the band chipped in and that's how that came about.
BSRR:
What are some of your favorite cuts on "Raising a Ruckus"?
CHRIS VACHON:
"While I Can." No, seriously, I like everything on it. That's why we recorded these songs. We like them all. So I don't really have a particular favorite.
BSRR:
I'm a big fan of your break on "The Love You Lost Along the Way" (from Roomful's CD "Standing Room Only"). What guitarists would you say influenced you growing up?
CHRIS VACHON:
I started with B.B. King when I was about 12. Just went through Guitar Slim, Albert King, Albert Collins, all of those guys, there's way too many to name. I guess that's how I came up with what I do - whatever that is.
BSRR:
How many nights are you out on the road now?
CHRIS VACHON:
200 a year. We're still at it. That's what we do.
BSRR:
What do you have coming up for the future?
CHRIS VACHON:
We're building a schedule for the summer. We've got a framework of some festivals so we'll be out in the Midwest, go to California and do the same stuff we always do when we tour to support a CD.
Roomful played two sold out shows at Chan's with its solid mix of tight horns, flawless guitar and vocals, and rocking keyboards , the band's trademark R & B with an emphasis on the "B". But don't just take my word for it - pick up a copy of "Raising a Ruckus" on Alligator Records and see what the ruckus is all about. (http://www.alligator.com/)
BSRR:
It's been a rough year for you guys. Can you tell us what happened and how the benefit went a couple of weeks ago?
CHRIS VACHON:
Most people know that Bob Enos passed away on the road with us. He had been in the band for 28 years. It was a big shock to us. It really took a lot out of us. We still haven't really gotten over it. We just had a benefit for him at Rhodes-on-the-Pawtuxet in Providence, Rhode Island. It went over really well. About 850 people showed up. It was to benefit his family. We're proud about that.
BSRR:
How's the response so far to "Raising a Ruckus"?
CHRIS VACHON:
It's been very good. We've been on the Billboard charts since it came out. We've charted every week.
BSRR:
How long ago and how did you guys form originally?
CHRIS VACHON:
It was Duke Robillard and Al Copley that started the band. That was around 1971. Just kind of a straight up Chicago blues band without horns. They added horns a couple of years later. It's been going on ever since, so I guess it's probably 39 years now, something like that.
BSRR:
All the years you guys have played and now, finally, fame's catching up with you.
CHRIS VACHON:
Yeah, right.
BSRR:
I wanted to ask you about the song "While I Can". Tell me a little bit about that song.
CHRIS VACHON:
That's my wife's song. She wrote that. She wrote the words and I had an idea what to do with it. I helped her out with music and the band chipped in and that's how that came about.
BSRR:
What are some of your favorite cuts on "Raising a Ruckus"?
CHRIS VACHON:
"While I Can." No, seriously, I like everything on it. That's why we recorded these songs. We like them all. So I don't really have a particular favorite.
BSRR:
I'm a big fan of your break on "The Love You Lost Along the Way" (from Roomful's CD "Standing Room Only"). What guitarists would you say influenced you growing up?
CHRIS VACHON:
I started with B.B. King when I was about 12. Just went through Guitar Slim, Albert King, Albert Collins, all of those guys, there's way too many to name. I guess that's how I came up with what I do - whatever that is.
BSRR:
How many nights are you out on the road now?
CHRIS VACHON:
200 a year. We're still at it. That's what we do.
BSRR:
What do you have coming up for the future?
CHRIS VACHON:
We're building a schedule for the summer. We've got a framework of some festivals so we'll be out in the Midwest, go to California and do the same stuff we always do when we tour to support a CD.
Roomful played two sold out shows at Chan's with its solid mix of tight horns, flawless guitar and vocals, and rocking keyboards , the band's trademark R & B with an emphasis on the "B". But don't just take my word for it - pick up a copy of "Raising a Ruckus" on Alligator Records and see what the ruckus is all about. (http://www.alligator.com/)
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Jery's Jazz
My late wife Jery loved jazz. She introduced me to the music along with Otis Sutton, who had a long standing show called Night Train on the former WCIB in Falmouth back in the day. Once Martha's Vineyard's first FM station got off the ground in 1975, I convinced the owner to see if Otis was still available, which lead to the creation of jazz weekends. Otis was on for several hours both Saturday and Sunday. His signature albums at the time included "Headhunters", Herbie Hancock's breakout explosion of funk, and " Swiss Movement", Les McCann and Eddie Harris live at the Montreux Jazz Festival with their anthem of alienation -"Compared to What".
Jery's favorite jazz tune was another Sutton staple at the time, "Land of Make Believe" which is a Chuck Mangione composition sung by Esther Satterfield. It is a symphonic blend of horns and strings that rise and falls in several crescendos with Satterfield's strong, clear voice leading the way. I liked it but found it a bit too polished and smooth - if you read this blog at all, you know by now my preferred sound is rougher and more primitive. I always wondered why she was so attracted to it. I think the song was an island of peace for her , a refuge from the emotional pain of stressful relationships that wore Jery down in the past , a chance to drift off into blissful fantasy if only for a few golden moments. We all need a song like that, a place where we can go to heal by ourselves.
Jery introduced me to Yusuf Lateef, especially "Nubian Lady", with its never ending flute solo and of course, from Swiss Movement, "Compared to What", with McCann's commanding piano riffs and Harris' swooping sax, not to mention the biting lyrics and the radical use of the word "goddamn". She still had a Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" album when we got married , along with Glen Miller and several other swing records, Roberta Flack, even Santana, but Jery stayed faithful to Chuck Mangione.
She's gone now. I'm not quite sure what I'll do with her records, but I'll never be able to listen to Chuck Mangione again - well, not for a while, anyway. I just hope Jery finally found the peace she was always seeking in the "Land of Make Believe."
Jery's favorite jazz tune was another Sutton staple at the time, "Land of Make Believe" which is a Chuck Mangione composition sung by Esther Satterfield. It is a symphonic blend of horns and strings that rise and falls in several crescendos with Satterfield's strong, clear voice leading the way. I liked it but found it a bit too polished and smooth - if you read this blog at all, you know by now my preferred sound is rougher and more primitive. I always wondered why she was so attracted to it. I think the song was an island of peace for her , a refuge from the emotional pain of stressful relationships that wore Jery down in the past , a chance to drift off into blissful fantasy if only for a few golden moments. We all need a song like that, a place where we can go to heal by ourselves.
Jery introduced me to Yusuf Lateef, especially "Nubian Lady", with its never ending flute solo and of course, from Swiss Movement, "Compared to What", with McCann's commanding piano riffs and Harris' swooping sax, not to mention the biting lyrics and the radical use of the word "goddamn". She still had a Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" album when we got married , along with Glen Miller and several other swing records, Roberta Flack, even Santana, but Jery stayed faithful to Chuck Mangione.
She's gone now. I'm not quite sure what I'll do with her records, but I'll never be able to listen to Chuck Mangione again - well, not for a while, anyway. I just hope Jery finally found the peace she was always seeking in the "Land of Make Believe."
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
West Side Struttin' with Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater
The first thing that amazed me about Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater is that he is 73. At an age when most people might settle for shuffleboard, Eddy is out on the road, still playing hard from the West Side of Chicago to the ends of the earth, having toured in places like Russia, Turkey, Romania and Brazil. The second thing is that Eddy is part Cherokee, which manifests itself in the Indian headdress Clearwater frequently sports onstage. But the most remarkable thing about The Chief is the energy and style that comes to life on his new Alligator CD West Side Strut.
Edward Harrington was born in Macon, MS in 1935, and moved to Birmingham, AL in 1948 where Eddy taught himself to play his axe left-handed and upside down as well as gigging with gospel groups that included The Blind Boys of Alabama. Eddy moved to Chicago in 1950, starting out as a dishwasher, but at first limited to playing behind groups in local churches before finally making a name for himself as "Guitar Eddy" in 1953. Seeing Chuck Berry perform in 1957 had a lasting influence on Eddy's music , welding Clearwater's solid blues credentials with a touch of raucous rock and roll. In 1958, Guitar Eddy was renamed "Clear Waters" for his debut 45 on his uncle's label - "Hill Billy Blues" - his name thought up by his manager as a word play on "Muddy Waters" . The name Clearwater stuck, and the Chief was born. Fortunately, Eddy explains why in "They Call Me The Chief", featuring his jagged fuzz tone "drums" in the beginning as he spins a tongue in cheek ballad (Allow me to introduce myself..) laced with chopping guitar chords and mystical lyrics.
The CD opens with "A Good Leavin' Alone", Eddy's solution to good loving gone bad, a mixture of rough vocals and hard driving guitar. Clearwater's rock and roll persona comes to life in a high-powered duet with Lonnie Brooks on "Too Old To Get Married" in which both veteran bluesmen trade sizzling leads, reminding each other that they're: "Too old to get married / too young to be buried" . Eddy takes a Muddy Waters tune - "Walkin' in the Park" - and injects his own particular brand of blues and funk, turning it into an anthem. . "Blue Over You" is a more familiar ballad with cutting edge guitar and driving harp. Lowell Fulsom's tune "Trouble, Trouble" gets a workout as well, the relentless guitar laying it on the line. And that's just to name a few.
Lucky for us Eddy is aging graciously, because he's still earning his living out on the road. The Chief will be at Chan's in Woonsocket,RI April 17-18, but you can listen to him now at http://www.alligator.com/ . See if you don't start doing the West Side Strut.
Edward Harrington was born in Macon, MS in 1935, and moved to Birmingham, AL in 1948 where Eddy taught himself to play his axe left-handed and upside down as well as gigging with gospel groups that included The Blind Boys of Alabama. Eddy moved to Chicago in 1950, starting out as a dishwasher, but at first limited to playing behind groups in local churches before finally making a name for himself as "Guitar Eddy" in 1953. Seeing Chuck Berry perform in 1957 had a lasting influence on Eddy's music , welding Clearwater's solid blues credentials with a touch of raucous rock and roll. In 1958, Guitar Eddy was renamed "Clear Waters" for his debut 45 on his uncle's label - "Hill Billy Blues" - his name thought up by his manager as a word play on "Muddy Waters" . The name Clearwater stuck, and the Chief was born. Fortunately, Eddy explains why in "They Call Me The Chief", featuring his jagged fuzz tone "drums" in the beginning as he spins a tongue in cheek ballad (Allow me to introduce myself..) laced with chopping guitar chords and mystical lyrics.
The CD opens with "A Good Leavin' Alone", Eddy's solution to good loving gone bad, a mixture of rough vocals and hard driving guitar. Clearwater's rock and roll persona comes to life in a high-powered duet with Lonnie Brooks on "Too Old To Get Married" in which both veteran bluesmen trade sizzling leads, reminding each other that they're: "Too old to get married / too young to be buried" . Eddy takes a Muddy Waters tune - "Walkin' in the Park" - and injects his own particular brand of blues and funk, turning it into an anthem. . "Blue Over You" is a more familiar ballad with cutting edge guitar and driving harp. Lowell Fulsom's tune "Trouble, Trouble" gets a workout as well, the relentless guitar laying it on the line. And that's just to name a few.
Lucky for us Eddy is aging graciously, because he's still earning his living out on the road. The Chief will be at Chan's in Woonsocket,RI April 17-18, but you can listen to him now at http://www.alligator.com/ . See if you don't start doing the West Side Strut.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Blood Brothers (Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King): The Blues on Steroids
The first time I ever got up close and personal with Texas style electric blues was introducing Stevie Ray Vaughan at the Newport Jazz Festival in 1985. I already knew what he was capable of, but it was amazing to experience his blues power live, those blistering guitar runs and the razor sharp picking that had the crowd on its feet halfway through the first song. That tradition of muscular roadhouse guitar coupled with strong, soulful vocals comes alive thanks to the dynamic duo of Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King on their debut Alligator CD , Blood Brothers.
Smokin' Joe has been honing his craft since the age of 14, when his prowess on the guitar earned him steady gigs at Dallas night clubs as well as leading his own band. Kubek became a close friend of Stevie Ray's as well as rubbing elbows with blues legends like Albert King and B.B. King, even getting a rare opportunity one night to play B.B.'s famous guitar - Lucille. "When times got hard," Kubek recalls, " I always remembered how B.B. had given me some encouragement."
Smokin' Joe met up with Bnois King at a Dallas jam session in 1989. King hails from Delhi, LA. where he was introduced to the guitar by his high school music teacher. Bnois recalls his first meeting with the blues on "Coleman Avenue" one of the stand out tracks on Blood Brothers . King's wistful vocals evoke those early days, coupled with the realization that his life has been dedicated to the blues since then.
Kubek and King cut their first CD for Bullseye Blues in 1991, and started touring nationwide, eventually racking up more than 150 nights a year including gigs in Canada and Europe. "Don't Lose My Number" , another spine straightening cut from Brothers , is a testament to their status as "roads" scholars, combining Kubek's relentless, take-no-prisoners slide guitar with King's clear, commanding vocal. Both of these virtuoso players bring distinctive playing styles to their (almost) 20 year collaboration. As Smokin' Joe puts it: " I pull the blues out of him (Bnois) and he pulls the jazz out of me."
Blood Brothers features 13 original tracks including "My Dog's Still Walkin'" music with a message that Kubek and King can still rock the house, "Flamethrower", and "Freezer Burn" - just to name a few. It might be a good idea to pick up a copy because chances are pretty good that Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King won't be back in the studio anytime soon. They're out doing what they do best - moving from roadhouse to concert stage to any hall big enough to hold blues aficionados, proving every night that Texas blues power is alive and well and still kicking. For more info, go to http://www.alligator.com/
Smokin' Joe has been honing his craft since the age of 14, when his prowess on the guitar earned him steady gigs at Dallas night clubs as well as leading his own band. Kubek became a close friend of Stevie Ray's as well as rubbing elbows with blues legends like Albert King and B.B. King, even getting a rare opportunity one night to play B.B.'s famous guitar - Lucille. "When times got hard," Kubek recalls, " I always remembered how B.B. had given me some encouragement."
Smokin' Joe met up with Bnois King at a Dallas jam session in 1989. King hails from Delhi, LA. where he was introduced to the guitar by his high school music teacher. Bnois recalls his first meeting with the blues on "Coleman Avenue" one of the stand out tracks on Blood Brothers . King's wistful vocals evoke those early days, coupled with the realization that his life has been dedicated to the blues since then.
Kubek and King cut their first CD for Bullseye Blues in 1991, and started touring nationwide, eventually racking up more than 150 nights a year including gigs in Canada and Europe. "Don't Lose My Number" , another spine straightening cut from Brothers , is a testament to their status as "roads" scholars, combining Kubek's relentless, take-no-prisoners slide guitar with King's clear, commanding vocal. Both of these virtuoso players bring distinctive playing styles to their (almost) 20 year collaboration. As Smokin' Joe puts it: " I pull the blues out of him (Bnois) and he pulls the jazz out of me."
Blood Brothers features 13 original tracks including "My Dog's Still Walkin'" music with a message that Kubek and King can still rock the house, "Flamethrower", and "Freezer Burn" - just to name a few. It might be a good idea to pick up a copy because chances are pretty good that Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King won't be back in the studio anytime soon. They're out doing what they do best - moving from roadhouse to concert stage to any hall big enough to hold blues aficionados, proving every night that Texas blues power is alive and well and still kicking. For more info, go to http://www.alligator.com/
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Backing Up Is Hard To Do
What got me thinking about the importance of back up singers was seeing The Pips on that TV car insurance commercial. There was some short-lived variety show I can vaguely recall that also featured The Pips without Gladys Knight, another example of the fact that the backing vocals are just as important as the lead.
Merry Clayton moved from the back to the front when it comes to her vocal parrying with Mick Jagger on "Gimme Shelter" from the Stones' "Let It Bleed ", but she had plenty of practice behind artists like Tom Jones, Joe Cocker and Carole King. No question that, without Clayton's powerful, soaring voice, "Gimme Shelter" would never have become a signature anthem for Mick, Keith et al. Merry Clayton has had a long and successful career, including a stint as a regular on TV's "Cagney and Lacey", but switched musically from rock to gospel.
Bonnie Bramlett actually got her start at age fifteen behind blues greats Albert King and Little Milton, among others, but made back-up history as the first white Ikette, transforming the Ike and Tina Revue. She came into her own with Delaney Bramlett, whom she married in 1967. My first connecion with them was "The Original Delaney and Bonnie " on the Electra label in 1969. The duo was propelled to super stardom after linking up with Eric Clapton and recording - appropriately enough - "On Tour With Eric Clapton" on the Atco label in 1970. This was one of my favorite records of that era, mainly because of its' butt-kicking live performances - the best being - in my opinion- the Little Richard covers as well as their "Tribute to Robert Johnson" -bursting with energy and virtuoso musicianship. Unfortunately,Delaney and Bonnie split in 1972. Although Bonnie Bramlett went on to appear as a character on "Roseanne" and in the Kevin Costner film "The Guardian" (2006) - not to mention appearing with Delaney in the enigmatic "Vanishing Point" (1971) - as well as still touring and recording today, she has never equaled the impact she had on the music business with the Clapton tour.
Native American Rita Coolidge first achieved fame as "The Delta Lady", immortalized by Leon Russell, an offshoot of her dynamic backing vocals behind Leon, Joe Cocker and Eric Clapton. She married Kris Kristofferson in 1973, going on to record several duet albums with Kristofferson which earned them Grammies in 1974 and 1976. Coolidge stayed consistently on the "charts " through the 1970s, hitting the Number Two slot in 1977 with her cover of Jackie Wilson's classic " (Your Love Has Lifted Me) Higher and Higher" . She returned to her Cherokee roots by helping to found a Native American trio in 1997, called "Walela" or "hummingbird" in Cherokee. Rita Coolidge's most recent album was a foray into jazz called "And So Is Love", released in 2006.
Of course, I don't mean to forget the talents of the Raylettes, the Famous Flames or the Ikettes among many,many others. Just remember when you're watching those back up singers onstage that they're always just a few steps away from the spotlights.
Merry Clayton moved from the back to the front when it comes to her vocal parrying with Mick Jagger on "Gimme Shelter" from the Stones' "Let It Bleed ", but she had plenty of practice behind artists like Tom Jones, Joe Cocker and Carole King. No question that, without Clayton's powerful, soaring voice, "Gimme Shelter" would never have become a signature anthem for Mick, Keith et al. Merry Clayton has had a long and successful career, including a stint as a regular on TV's "Cagney and Lacey", but switched musically from rock to gospel.
Bonnie Bramlett actually got her start at age fifteen behind blues greats Albert King and Little Milton, among others, but made back-up history as the first white Ikette, transforming the Ike and Tina Revue. She came into her own with Delaney Bramlett, whom she married in 1967. My first connecion with them was "The Original Delaney and Bonnie " on the Electra label in 1969. The duo was propelled to super stardom after linking up with Eric Clapton and recording - appropriately enough - "On Tour With Eric Clapton" on the Atco label in 1970. This was one of my favorite records of that era, mainly because of its' butt-kicking live performances - the best being - in my opinion- the Little Richard covers as well as their "Tribute to Robert Johnson" -bursting with energy and virtuoso musicianship. Unfortunately,Delaney and Bonnie split in 1972. Although Bonnie Bramlett went on to appear as a character on "Roseanne" and in the Kevin Costner film "The Guardian" (2006) - not to mention appearing with Delaney in the enigmatic "Vanishing Point" (1971) - as well as still touring and recording today, she has never equaled the impact she had on the music business with the Clapton tour.
Native American Rita Coolidge first achieved fame as "The Delta Lady", immortalized by Leon Russell, an offshoot of her dynamic backing vocals behind Leon, Joe Cocker and Eric Clapton. She married Kris Kristofferson in 1973, going on to record several duet albums with Kristofferson which earned them Grammies in 1974 and 1976. Coolidge stayed consistently on the "charts " through the 1970s, hitting the Number Two slot in 1977 with her cover of Jackie Wilson's classic " (Your Love Has Lifted Me) Higher and Higher" . She returned to her Cherokee roots by helping to found a Native American trio in 1997, called "Walela" or "hummingbird" in Cherokee. Rita Coolidge's most recent album was a foray into jazz called "And So Is Love", released in 2006.
Of course, I don't mean to forget the talents of the Raylettes, the Famous Flames or the Ikettes among many,many others. Just remember when you're watching those back up singers onstage that they're always just a few steps away from the spotlights.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The Blame Game
Ironically, there are two anniversaries this month that involve BSRR - one being the fact that the blog began a year ago and the other that five years have passed since Rhode Island's Station nightclub fire.
I was heartened by last week's story in the Providence Journal announcing that WHJY FM's parent company - Clear Channel - is going to donate a substantial chunk of money to the Station survivors' fund. Mike Gonsalves was mentioned in the story as well, since he represented HJY at the event, introducing Great White onstage just minutes before fire swept through the crowded room, taking his life and the hopes and dreams of 99 others as well. If you read my post a year ago, then you'd remember that I first "hired" - maybe "exploited" is a better word - Mike as an intern back in the mid 80s, and was always impressed by his enthusiasm and good nature. If you read between the lines of the article, the implication is that WHJY and Mike were partially responsible for what happened. Unfortunately, despite the goodwill, the fire survivors have received almost nothing. With the exception of the acts set to do a benefit concert next week, the music industry has turned its collective back on the tragedy. I wonder if this has to do not only with the fact that people instinctively shy away from bad news, but also that so many bands and MCs - for that matter - can recall a time in their careers when they were trapped in a club in a situation that could have turned out the same way.
I remember at least two instances at clubs in Plainville, Mass and Providence in which the crowds were so massive - and messed up - that I never would have made it out alive without clawing my way through a drunken mob. The attendance at these venues certainly demonstrates the power of radio promotion. In that respect, I can see Clear Channel's rationale for tacitly acknowledging that WHJY was responsible for creating a successful event. Yet I got the impression that somehow Gonzo was responsible for not stopping the show when, in fact, he was just doing what we got paid to do - hype and introduce the band. It's a little like the Nuremburg defense - Mike Gonsalves was just following orders. The blame for what happened lies between the band and the club's owners, who admitted that they felt guilty but seemed to have avoided any real accountability for overcrowding the club and allowing pyrotechnics in a confined - and flammable - space.
I hope that justice really is served one of these years, but first and foremost, leave Mike Gonsalves out of the blame game and focus on taking care of the survivors. Their lives have been on hold for five torturous years with very little light at the end of the tunnel.
I was heartened by last week's story in the Providence Journal announcing that WHJY FM's parent company - Clear Channel - is going to donate a substantial chunk of money to the Station survivors' fund. Mike Gonsalves was mentioned in the story as well, since he represented HJY at the event, introducing Great White onstage just minutes before fire swept through the crowded room, taking his life and the hopes and dreams of 99 others as well. If you read my post a year ago, then you'd remember that I first "hired" - maybe "exploited" is a better word - Mike as an intern back in the mid 80s, and was always impressed by his enthusiasm and good nature. If you read between the lines of the article, the implication is that WHJY and Mike were partially responsible for what happened. Unfortunately, despite the goodwill, the fire survivors have received almost nothing. With the exception of the acts set to do a benefit concert next week, the music industry has turned its collective back on the tragedy. I wonder if this has to do not only with the fact that people instinctively shy away from bad news, but also that so many bands and MCs - for that matter - can recall a time in their careers when they were trapped in a club in a situation that could have turned out the same way.
I remember at least two instances at clubs in Plainville, Mass and Providence in which the crowds were so massive - and messed up - that I never would have made it out alive without clawing my way through a drunken mob. The attendance at these venues certainly demonstrates the power of radio promotion. In that respect, I can see Clear Channel's rationale for tacitly acknowledging that WHJY was responsible for creating a successful event. Yet I got the impression that somehow Gonzo was responsible for not stopping the show when, in fact, he was just doing what we got paid to do - hype and introduce the band. It's a little like the Nuremburg defense - Mike Gonsalves was just following orders. The blame for what happened lies between the band and the club's owners, who admitted that they felt guilty but seemed to have avoided any real accountability for overcrowding the club and allowing pyrotechnics in a confined - and flammable - space.
I hope that justice really is served one of these years, but first and foremost, leave Mike Gonsalves out of the blame game and focus on taking care of the survivors. Their lives have been on hold for five torturous years with very little light at the end of the tunnel.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Friend of the Devil
Playing Robert Johnson's tune "Up Jumped The Devil" on my radio show last Sunday started me thinking about how often Satan turns up in the title and lyrics of traditional and popular music. Peruse the Internet and you'll find lists and lists of songs that mention Beelzebub. Of course the sheer volume of gospel, hymns and symphonies that celebrate God and the victory of good over evil far outweigh devil music, but the personification of Satan is more complex and multi-faceted than the typical portrayal of the divine. In Robert Johnson's case, contemporaries have claimed that Johnson fostered the image of his relationship with evil, perhaps to enhance his status, perhaps as a reaction to the Bible thumping religion of his day that strictly defined right and wrong.
The most sophisticated image of the devil - in my opinion - is the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy For The Devil", which combines a sardonic review of great evil moments in history with its cynical refrain: "Pleased to meet you/Hope you guess my name". In this case, the evil one morphs from hairy, goatfooted spirit of darkness to suave, sophisticated well-dressed charmer. This devil is the temptor that dwells in all of us, just waiting to be unleashed by mob mentality or incited by totalitarian brutality that eradicates individual identity, suppressing justice in the name of absolute power.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels' "Devil With a Blue Dress" seems harmless, a paen to that beautiful temptress that beckons to hapless males on the dance floor. Yet, when you look at the song a little more closely, it unconsciously evokes the image of Eve, the Biblical personification of the original sin that caused the human race to be evicted from the Garden of Eden. When Van Halen's David Lee Roth howls: " Runn-IN with the Dev-ILL", he is not only celebrating living on the edge - one misstep away from falling into the pit of flames - but also harkening back to Robert Johnson walking with Satan side by side. Charlie Daniels, Jerry Garcia, AC/DC and numerous others have incorporated the devil and "hell" into their lyrics.
So why is Beelzebub so popular? Is it like looking at a bad accident - so gruesome yet so compelling that you can't turn away? Is it because evil is so fascinating - so accessible - that we aspire to it ? Or is it simply an attempt to associate onself with a powerful, commonly-accepted image in the public's eye, so that a musician will seem truly bigger than life?
The most sophisticated image of the devil - in my opinion - is the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy For The Devil", which combines a sardonic review of great evil moments in history with its cynical refrain: "Pleased to meet you/Hope you guess my name". In this case, the evil one morphs from hairy, goatfooted spirit of darkness to suave, sophisticated well-dressed charmer. This devil is the temptor that dwells in all of us, just waiting to be unleashed by mob mentality or incited by totalitarian brutality that eradicates individual identity, suppressing justice in the name of absolute power.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels' "Devil With a Blue Dress" seems harmless, a paen to that beautiful temptress that beckons to hapless males on the dance floor. Yet, when you look at the song a little more closely, it unconsciously evokes the image of Eve, the Biblical personification of the original sin that caused the human race to be evicted from the Garden of Eden. When Van Halen's David Lee Roth howls: " Runn-IN with the Dev-ILL", he is not only celebrating living on the edge - one misstep away from falling into the pit of flames - but also harkening back to Robert Johnson walking with Satan side by side. Charlie Daniels, Jerry Garcia, AC/DC and numerous others have incorporated the devil and "hell" into their lyrics.
So why is Beelzebub so popular? Is it like looking at a bad accident - so gruesome yet so compelling that you can't turn away? Is it because evil is so fascinating - so accessible - that we aspire to it ? Or is it simply an attempt to associate onself with a powerful, commonly-accepted image in the public's eye, so that a musician will seem truly bigger than life?
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Race Music
I have no idea which politician first came up with the idea of using pop music for a campaign theme, but I associate the trend with both Clintons bouncing onstage to the strains of Fleetwood Mac singing: " Don't stop/Thinking about tomorrow". At the time it seemed quaint, but I couldn't escape the thought that McVie, Buckingham and the rest were being co-opted, their lyrics misconstrued to symbolize societal change. This year's crew of office seekers just lends itself to certain songs and lyric. For example:
1. John McCain: Etta James' "At Last" maybe the best testament to the Arizona senator's quest for the nomination, but he needs to convince voters in the long run that he's not - as Chuck Berry once sang - "Too pooped to pop/ To old to stroll..."
2. Barack Obama: The Scorpions' "Like a Hurricane" pretty much describes the way Obama's campaign has swept across the country, but the candidate can legitimately agree with James Brown : "Say it loud/I'm black and I'm proud." The Illinois senator's long term viability may depend on whether he is able to deliver - as David Bowie would say - "Ch-ch-changes" in the mind of the electorate.
3. Mitt Romney: As Leslie Gore puts it: " It's my party/I'll cry if I want to/You'd do it too if it happened to you" - a natural refrain for the Republican with the deepest pockets and a disappointing return on his 20-35 million dollar investment. Based on the results so far, Romney's new campaign song may end up being (Massachusetts' own) Aerosmith's anthem "Dream On."
4. Hilary Clinton: It seems her long held lock on the nomination has become" Just My Imagination" as the Temptations might say, but Hilary's made it pretty clear that she's in it for the long haul, so the message to Obama is not to rest on his laurels, but to: "Get ready baby/Cause here I come".
5. Mike Huckabee: Although voters might have first asked themselves - in the words of Pete Townsend and crew - "Who ARE you?" , Hukabee has managed to snare those voters who agree that : "I don't care if it rains or freezes/Long as I've got my plastic Jesus".
Unfortunately, this campaign is so long and so torturous and so confusing that I hope the average voter doesn't end up disillusioned - or, as bluesman Buddy Guy puts it, losing faith in the democratic process and saying: " You're damn right I've got the blues."
1. John McCain: Etta James' "At Last" maybe the best testament to the Arizona senator's quest for the nomination, but he needs to convince voters in the long run that he's not - as Chuck Berry once sang - "Too pooped to pop/ To old to stroll..."
2. Barack Obama: The Scorpions' "Like a Hurricane" pretty much describes the way Obama's campaign has swept across the country, but the candidate can legitimately agree with James Brown : "Say it loud/I'm black and I'm proud." The Illinois senator's long term viability may depend on whether he is able to deliver - as David Bowie would say - "Ch-ch-changes" in the mind of the electorate.
3. Mitt Romney: As Leslie Gore puts it: " It's my party/I'll cry if I want to/You'd do it too if it happened to you" - a natural refrain for the Republican with the deepest pockets and a disappointing return on his 20-35 million dollar investment. Based on the results so far, Romney's new campaign song may end up being (Massachusetts' own) Aerosmith's anthem "Dream On."
4. Hilary Clinton: It seems her long held lock on the nomination has become" Just My Imagination" as the Temptations might say, but Hilary's made it pretty clear that she's in it for the long haul, so the message to Obama is not to rest on his laurels, but to: "Get ready baby/Cause here I come".
5. Mike Huckabee: Although voters might have first asked themselves - in the words of Pete Townsend and crew - "Who ARE you?" , Hukabee has managed to snare those voters who agree that : "I don't care if it rains or freezes/Long as I've got my plastic Jesus".
Unfortunately, this campaign is so long and so torturous and so confusing that I hope the average voter doesn't end up disillusioned - or, as bluesman Buddy Guy puts it, losing faith in the democratic process and saying: " You're damn right I've got the blues."
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