What - still confused over what to get your favorite blues fan for Christmas ? Here's some suggested stocking stuffers that might be a better choice than that tie with the really irritating color scheme or another reindeer sweater:
1. Hard Believer - Tommy Castro - Alligator
I first heard Tommy Castro's music back in the 90s courtesy of an exhibitor in the trade shows I used to run and liked his music from the start - uptempo, bluesy and tongue-in-cheek lyrics. His latest ranges from the energetic mix of horns and guitar solos a la Jimi Hendrix on "Monkey's Paradise" to the straight ahead, flat out road runner flavor of "Make It Back To Memphis" with solid blues ballads like "Backup Plan" and "It Is What It Is", not to mention my favorite new theme song of the economic meltdown - "Trimmin' Fat". or Castro's soul drenched version of "Ninety Nine and a Half".
2. The Blues Rolls On - Elvin Bishop - Delta Groove
Elvin Bishop probably deserves an "I'm Still Here" lifetime award , or at least a few pats on the back for outliving most of the members of the original Paul Butterfield band, not to mention his stint on the Billboard charts with "Fooled Around and Fell In Love". Bishop knows how to put a song together as evidenced by the presence of - surprise - Tommy Castro, James Cotton, George Thorogood,B.B. King and others on his latest. My personal favorite is "Who's The Fool?" featuring John Nemeth and Kid Anderson. BB King and "Lucille" help Elvin pay homage to Roy Milton and a bit of BB's past in "Keep A Dollar in Your Pocket". Bishop's rendition of Ray Charles' "Night Time Is The Right Time" , "Yonders Wall" , and the title cut are all worth a listen.
3. Acquired Taste - Delbert McClinton - New West Records
Delbert McClinton is another blues survivor, although my favorite Delbert tune - "Shakey Ground" - is more funk than blues. The tune that first caught my ear from"Acquired" is one called "Can't Nobody Say I Didn't Try", featuring a tear-drenched vocal accompanied by a Nashville sounding slide guitar that punctuates the late night lyrics about love lost. "I Need To Know" , "Mama's Little Baby" , and "Starting A Rumor" are just a few examples of Delbert's ability to borrow from country,blues , soul and even a little jazz, a testament to his extensive talent.
More next week - I have to go shopping.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
MJ RIP ?
I haven't written a single thing about Michael Jackson's death, but I probably should have (out of guilt? neglect?). Unfortunately, the sequence of events just seemed a bit too orchestrated, as if the death was a promo for the BIG public celebration which was a promotion for the movie release which cross -promoted all of MJ's music, all of which promoted the funeral. Germaine and Tito had their 15 minutes all over again - even LaToya got another sixty seconds. The only one still bitching is Joe Jackson, who always seems venomous even when he's pretending to be human. The family drama always seemed to nearly eclipse and submerge MJ's considerable talent, the tabloid tsunami revelations sweeping away his ability to emote, move and most of all entertain.
I would venture to say that our collective memories began with a beaming kid who looked just old enough to be singing about "A-B-C - easy as 1-2-3", and ended with an emaciated semi-white nose less freak. What happened in between has been the source of perpetual debate - the fame, the kids, the trials, the lifestyle - so adding anything would just be redundant. Michael Jackson was unlucky enough to grow up in a fishbowl under a microscope surrounded by constant volleys of flashbulbs and chattering stalkerazzi. He never seemed evil - confused, maybe, but not malicious - but low key, shy and - thanks to the autopsy report - possibly stoned out of his gourd. Could be he just drifted through life - comfortably numb -and let everybody else make decisions for him, which would explain the trail of bad business deals, broken promises and lost assets.
The final irony for Michael Jackson is the fact that this really was a good career move. Not only are his CDs suddenly hot commodities after all these years, but also "This is It" shows that he still has - HAD - all the right moves. Once the court battles are resolved, and the tabloids no longer have any Jackson family exposes, MJ's legacy will finally stand alone, reaffirming his impact on popular culture as a mega-talent.
I would venture to say that our collective memories began with a beaming kid who looked just old enough to be singing about "A-B-C - easy as 1-2-3", and ended with an emaciated semi-white nose less freak. What happened in between has been the source of perpetual debate - the fame, the kids, the trials, the lifestyle - so adding anything would just be redundant. Michael Jackson was unlucky enough to grow up in a fishbowl under a microscope surrounded by constant volleys of flashbulbs and chattering stalkerazzi. He never seemed evil - confused, maybe, but not malicious - but low key, shy and - thanks to the autopsy report - possibly stoned out of his gourd. Could be he just drifted through life - comfortably numb -and let everybody else make decisions for him, which would explain the trail of bad business deals, broken promises and lost assets.
The final irony for Michael Jackson is the fact that this really was a good career move. Not only are his CDs suddenly hot commodities after all these years, but also "This is It" shows that he still has - HAD - all the right moves. Once the court battles are resolved, and the tabloids no longer have any Jackson family exposes, MJ's legacy will finally stand alone, reaffirming his impact on popular culture as a mega-talent.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Bnois King Speaks:The RI Return of the Blood Brothers
It may be a little hard to believe that most of Rhode Island's best blues shows are held at Chan's in Woonsocket, but don't just take my word for it - check it out for yourself, especially when Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King are in town. The Blood Brothers' latest Blackstone Valley gig happened last Friday night (November 6), featuring penetrating guitar solos as Bnois and Smokin' Joe traded leads on standards like "Two Trains Running", "Ain't Superstitious" and "Stop Drinking", which is on their latest Alligator CD "Blues Brothers". BSRR caught up with Bnois between sets:
BSRR:
Tonight sounded a lot like fusion to me.
Bnois King:
It was kind of fusion a little bit, you know. Some nights you just play differently. It's got a lot to do with how you feel each night, you know.
BSRR:
So how do you pick what you're going to play?
Bnois King:
We have a set but we don't necessarily go down the set depending on how we feel - we might not go verbatim down the line, you know.
BSRR:
Are you heading back to the studio?
Bnois:
We were supposed to go back this month but I don't think it'll happen. It might happen in December.
BSRR:
Will it be a lot like what we heard tonight?
Bnois:
We probably won't be doing any of the stuff we played tonight. We haven't had a chance to really rehearse them with the band, you know. The material has been presented to the record company and they're reviewing it, they're checking it out.
BSRR:
We talk about Chicago blues, Memphis Blues, but if somebody asked you how to describe Texas blues, what would you say?
Bnois:
I would say more high energy, more aggressive.
The Blood Brothers are in the area twice a year, according to Bnois King, so make sure you catch them next time around. The combination of Bnois' melodic vocals, Smokin' Joe's spine straightening slide guitar, and the stinging riffs they trade off during sets is blues at its best. Chan's offers a year round "buffet" of blues -check Chan's website to see who's next. For more Blood Brothers' music , visit the gator - http://www.alligator.com/.
BSRR:
Tonight sounded a lot like fusion to me.
Bnois King:
It was kind of fusion a little bit, you know. Some nights you just play differently. It's got a lot to do with how you feel each night, you know.
BSRR:
So how do you pick what you're going to play?
Bnois King:
We have a set but we don't necessarily go down the set depending on how we feel - we might not go verbatim down the line, you know.
BSRR:
Are you heading back to the studio?
Bnois:
We were supposed to go back this month but I don't think it'll happen. It might happen in December.
BSRR:
Will it be a lot like what we heard tonight?
Bnois:
We probably won't be doing any of the stuff we played tonight. We haven't had a chance to really rehearse them with the band, you know. The material has been presented to the record company and they're reviewing it, they're checking it out.
BSRR:
We talk about Chicago blues, Memphis Blues, but if somebody asked you how to describe Texas blues, what would you say?
Bnois:
I would say more high energy, more aggressive.
The Blood Brothers are in the area twice a year, according to Bnois King, so make sure you catch them next time around. The combination of Bnois' melodic vocals, Smokin' Joe's spine straightening slide guitar, and the stinging riffs they trade off during sets is blues at its best. Chan's offers a year round "buffet" of blues -check Chan's website to see who's next. For more Blood Brothers' music , visit the gator - http://www.alligator.com/.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Excavating The Blues
I'm starting to think of myself as an archaeologist when I go to the - can't call it record anymore -to the music store. I'm still willing to dig through the mounds of bargain CDs searching for the discarded gems of Chicago, the Mississippi Delta, Detroit, the whole universe of blues, jazz, funk and soul that barely exists in the chain store galaxy. True, they do relegate tiny categories in distant aisles to the genres, but the real action takes place out front.
You can spot them as you approach the corporate logo mounted on some giant neon arch that is visible halfway across the mall, the rows of hastily assembled wire bins brimming with this week's offerring of already obsolete DVDs and CDs priced to move at 3.99 - 7.99 (funny how nobody ever says 4.00 or 8.00 - it's like the .01 makes a big difference ?). In preparation for a dig last week, I steeled myself with firm resolve - I would not buy anything that cost more than ten bucks. Armed with only my debit card, I began my methodical examination of the glittering plastic sea arrayed in the CD repository beneath, orange dots across their spines tossing like whitecaps in an ocean of "loss leaders" - basically artists dumped unceremoniously by the labels.
Forty five minutes of intense scrutiny unearthed Little Walter's Greatest Hits for about five bucks, plus Leon Russell's and Tina Turner's Greatest Hits at seven each. A word about alleged "hit" collections - make sure you read the back carefully to ensure it's not the typical scam of including one decent song with lots of sort of hits - a vicious fraud perpetrated on me in numerous purchases of James Brown collections or - even worse - Canned Heat.
Case in point - Henry Vestine passed away in October, so I thought I'd try to find some really good Vestine/Canned Heat licks to play on my show. The guy's face went blank when I asked innocently at the music store in what turned out to be a vain attempt to find anything by the group at all - I wanted "Evil Woman" and "Fried Hockey Boogie" off the one and only Heat album I ever bought. My new found buddy searched his database only to announce that the tunes in question were available on a French re-release of the original (ironically, I found out later that Henry actually passed away at the end of the band's tour in France- is there a link??) which nobody in the Western Hemisphere has a copy of.
Over the years, my expeditions have uncovered lost treasures in the hundreds: Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker back to back, dozens of re-released, re-mastered versions of Robert Johnson, not to mention Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Howling Wolf, or Paul Butterfield, Buddy Guy, Albert Collins, Lonnie Mack, or Albert King, Leadbelly, and Lightnin' Hopkins - just to name a very few - plus all of those Motown Golden Hits compilations - the Temps, the Miracles, Jr Walker , Stevie, etc - , as well as all the Jukebox collections, the Blues one being superior for its inclusion of artists like Champion Jack Dupree, Memphis Slim, Roosevelt Sykes, Jimmy Witherspoon, Lowell Fulsom, Bessie Smith , Big Joe Williams- the greats that rarely get the recognition they deserve- if any at all.
There's a great big wilderness of unexplored low price bins out there waiting for intrepid explorers just like you. I say - forget the Pyramids, the Acropolis and the Taj Mahal - head for your local record - I mean - music store instead.
You can spot them as you approach the corporate logo mounted on some giant neon arch that is visible halfway across the mall, the rows of hastily assembled wire bins brimming with this week's offerring of already obsolete DVDs and CDs priced to move at 3.99 - 7.99 (funny how nobody ever says 4.00 or 8.00 - it's like the .01 makes a big difference ?). In preparation for a dig last week, I steeled myself with firm resolve - I would not buy anything that cost more than ten bucks. Armed with only my debit card, I began my methodical examination of the glittering plastic sea arrayed in the CD repository beneath, orange dots across their spines tossing like whitecaps in an ocean of "loss leaders" - basically artists dumped unceremoniously by the labels.
Forty five minutes of intense scrutiny unearthed Little Walter's Greatest Hits for about five bucks, plus Leon Russell's and Tina Turner's Greatest Hits at seven each. A word about alleged "hit" collections - make sure you read the back carefully to ensure it's not the typical scam of including one decent song with lots of sort of hits - a vicious fraud perpetrated on me in numerous purchases of James Brown collections or - even worse - Canned Heat.
Case in point - Henry Vestine passed away in October, so I thought I'd try to find some really good Vestine/Canned Heat licks to play on my show. The guy's face went blank when I asked innocently at the music store in what turned out to be a vain attempt to find anything by the group at all - I wanted "Evil Woman" and "Fried Hockey Boogie" off the one and only Heat album I ever bought. My new found buddy searched his database only to announce that the tunes in question were available on a French re-release of the original (ironically, I found out later that Henry actually passed away at the end of the band's tour in France- is there a link??) which nobody in the Western Hemisphere has a copy of.
Over the years, my expeditions have uncovered lost treasures in the hundreds: Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker back to back, dozens of re-released, re-mastered versions of Robert Johnson, not to mention Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Howling Wolf, or Paul Butterfield, Buddy Guy, Albert Collins, Lonnie Mack, or Albert King, Leadbelly, and Lightnin' Hopkins - just to name a very few - plus all of those Motown Golden Hits compilations - the Temps, the Miracles, Jr Walker , Stevie, etc - , as well as all the Jukebox collections, the Blues one being superior for its inclusion of artists like Champion Jack Dupree, Memphis Slim, Roosevelt Sykes, Jimmy Witherspoon, Lowell Fulsom, Bessie Smith , Big Joe Williams- the greats that rarely get the recognition they deserve- if any at all.
There's a great big wilderness of unexplored low price bins out there waiting for intrepid explorers just like you. I say - forget the Pyramids, the Acropolis and the Taj Mahal - head for your local record - I mean - music store instead.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Chilling With The Iceman
I'm not sure when I first heard Albert Collins, but once I did, I couldn't get enough. His style is unmistakable - the stinging notes ripped out of his guitar to hang in the ear like icicles - so hot they're COLD - hence the nickname Iceman. Born outside Houston in October, 1932, Collins' career spanned session work (He replaced Jimi Hendrix in Little Richard's back up band) and years of patiently waiting for his turn to step into the spotlight. It took so long that Collins had to keep working construction jobs to make ends meet.
Could be that's why the Iceman's songs are so down to earth. "The Lights Are On But Nobody's Home" deals with mundane marital issues - his mother-in-law, infidelity, money - showcased by some of the best, sharpest "chicken picking" leads contemporary blues has to offer. "Too Many Dirty Dishes" not only features Albert actually "washing" pots and pans by sliding his fingers up and down the guitar's neck - as well as the sound of water filling a glass - but also depicts the suspicious husband getting home to find dirty dishes in the sink, his wife's infidelity also evidenced by the residue of steak and caviar and other delicacies that she never serves him. Despite Collins' musical musings on infidelity, he was married to the same woman for most of his life.
Could be that's why the Iceman's songs are so down to earth. "The Lights Are On But Nobody's Home" deals with mundane marital issues - his mother-in-law, infidelity, money - showcased by some of the best, sharpest "chicken picking" leads contemporary blues has to offer. "Too Many Dirty Dishes" not only features Albert actually "washing" pots and pans by sliding his fingers up and down the guitar's neck - as well as the sound of water filling a glass - but also depicts the suspicious husband getting home to find dirty dishes in the sink, his wife's infidelity also evidenced by the residue of steak and caviar and other delicacies that she never serves him. Despite Collins' musical musings on infidelity, he was married to the same woman for most of his life.
Besides love, Albert Collins' best tunes deal with another familiar topic - money. Songs like "Master Charge", in which the Iceman makes fun of his wife for constantly overloading the credit card (The refrain simply repeats "Master Charge - Bank Americard" over and over), "When the Welfare Turns Its Back on You ", or "Travellin' South" , the lyrics pointing out that the singer "has no money for the telephone", heading "back down to Texas" on the shoeleather express. "If Trouble Was Money" features one of the best refrains in blues in my opinion, pointing out that: "If trouble was money / I'd be a millionaire". Last but not least, Collins first came to prominence with his instrumental tunes - "Frostbite", "Don't Lose Your Cool", and "Meltdown" , just to name a few.
Albert Collins died in Las Vegas of lung cancer , way too soon. Fortunately, he left behind some of the coldest blues tunes ever recorded - too bad it was just the tip of the iceberg.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Happy Birthday Riley King
I've seen B.B. King (Born September 16, 1925 in Itta Bena, Mississippi) perform twice. The first venue was in the middle of downtown Waterbury, Connecticut at Loew's , a relic of the golden age of cinema, when people flocked to the "movie palaces" in search of affordable entertainment. It seemed entirely fitting to enjoy BB's blues in that particular setting, the faded curtains and chipped balustrades and badly stained seats evoking distant memories of prosperity. King's lyrics seemed to match the city's woes, the word pictures of lost loves and lost opportunities mirroring the grim sidewalks and empty buildings. The bluesman had just released what amounts to his "hit" record - "The Thrill Is Gone." BB's voice and guitar work are as dependable as ever, honed from years of one night stands, but what really flavors "Thrill" is the insertion of strings in the background, the orchestration providing a full-bodied sound that smooths out the rough edges. The other signature tune that BB always delivered was "Lucille", the story of his guitar.
The second time I heard him was at the end of the Newport Jazz Festival in 1985. I had dragged my poor pregnant wife just to see Miles Davis play, figuring it was one of those "see him before he dies" type opportunities. Unfortunately, after finally seeing the jazz great on stage, some idiot in front of me babbled about her summer escapades over most of the solos. As BB was starting up, my wife was melting down. I ended up helping her back to the car with the strains of "Everyday I Have The Blues" tickling my ears.
You've probably heard by now that young Riley King made his way from the Delta to Beale Street in Memphis and was originally known as Beale Street Blues Boy King, which eventually became BB King. He just celebrated his 84th birthday. In a way, King is similar to Picasso because he has lived long enough to experience his own fame and success. The only problem is that most TV viewers - who know nothing about his music - will associate BB with ads for Wendy's and/or blood sugar measuring devices. Check out BB's latest - "One Kind Favor". He still plays flawlessly, his voice shows no signs of aging, and he is still touring. The month of September unfortunately marks the passing of blues legends Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown (9/10/05) , Jimmy Witherspoon (9/18/97), Canned Heat's Al "Blind Owl" Wilson (9/3/70) and Bessie Smith (9/26/37). At least BB King is still alive and well and singing the blues.
("Blues With A Feeling" is back on 88.3 FM, Sundays from 3:00 -5:00, or at wqri.rwu.edu)
The second time I heard him was at the end of the Newport Jazz Festival in 1985. I had dragged my poor pregnant wife just to see Miles Davis play, figuring it was one of those "see him before he dies" type opportunities. Unfortunately, after finally seeing the jazz great on stage, some idiot in front of me babbled about her summer escapades over most of the solos. As BB was starting up, my wife was melting down. I ended up helping her back to the car with the strains of "Everyday I Have The Blues" tickling my ears.
You've probably heard by now that young Riley King made his way from the Delta to Beale Street in Memphis and was originally known as Beale Street Blues Boy King, which eventually became BB King. He just celebrated his 84th birthday. In a way, King is similar to Picasso because he has lived long enough to experience his own fame and success. The only problem is that most TV viewers - who know nothing about his music - will associate BB with ads for Wendy's and/or blood sugar measuring devices. Check out BB's latest - "One Kind Favor". He still plays flawlessly, his voice shows no signs of aging, and he is still touring. The month of September unfortunately marks the passing of blues legends Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown (9/10/05) , Jimmy Witherspoon (9/18/97), Canned Heat's Al "Blind Owl" Wilson (9/3/70) and Bessie Smith (9/26/37). At least BB King is still alive and well and singing the blues.
("Blues With A Feeling" is back on 88.3 FM, Sundays from 3:00 -5:00, or at wqri.rwu.edu)
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Taking Stock of Woodstock
The 40th anniversary of Woodstock seemed like a good idea until the media got hold of it. As all those images of newly-revealed-but-still-moonwalking-junkie Michael Jackson fade from our collective memory, they've been replaced by scenes of glassy eyed hippies jerking convulsively to the music as the lyrical giants of the 60s propel waves of feedback across Max Yasgur's farm. Unfortunately, I was there ,too, but only after a last minute whim prompted all 5 of us to leave Martha's Vineyard on a perfect August weekend to go to upstate New York for something - I wasn't exactly sure what.
We parked in some nondescript field and joined the hordes wending their way to the main stage. One of the first things I saw was a 7 UP truck that had apparently gotten stuck in a roadside culvert. People were standing atop the soda truck, handing out free 7 UP, a harbinger of the anarchism that pervaded the event, a stirring indictment of capitalism - or something like that. The pretense at crowd control seemed to have been abandoned by the time we reached the famous hill of mud, the fence having been trashed. So there we were, totally clueless that it was an historic event.
The first performer we saw was Melanie, barely visible over the mists of pot smoke, which, of course, gave rise to that famous comment: " Who gives a f___k about Melanie?" Fortunately, we had more than enough weed to make " I got a brand new roller skate" sound almost palatable. She was followed by Tim Hardin, who I had always looked up to, except that he started nodding out, like, during his songs, which gave rise to that other famous remark: "You don't know? Tim Hardin's a junkie, man."
Unfortunately, we seemed to have picked the bargain basement performers hour, but the scene was somewhat enlivened by the entrance of Ravi Shanker, who proceeded to coax cosmic sounds out of the sitar in concert with the hurried pace of the tabla. Just as I thought I could stretch out next to my similarly entranced girlfriend, the skies began belching rain. We pretended it wasn't happening for a few minutes before the lethal mix of upstate New York farm mud with water began to create a distinctive coating. By the time we gave up and staggerred back to the van, it was like cement.
It would have helped when we opened our bleary eyes early the next morning, limbs cramped and filthy from the combination of dirt and trying to stretch out in the narrow van , if someone had reminded us that we were at the pivotal event of the Sixties and that all the memorable performances were yet to come. Unfortunately, it just seemed like mass confusion. We resolved that we needed to leave immediately or face showing up late for work Monday morning. Consequently, we missed all the legendary artists and got drunk in a nearby bar instead, followed by swimming in an adjacent lake.
Fortunately, we made it back to a halfway point in Connecticut in time to see Midnight Cowboy. Jon Voight and Dustine Hoffman had a bigger impact on me than Woodstock at the time. I'm glad that there's so much nostalgia about the event, but most of my memories revolve around the agony as opposed to the ecstasy. So much for making history.
We parked in some nondescript field and joined the hordes wending their way to the main stage. One of the first things I saw was a 7 UP truck that had apparently gotten stuck in a roadside culvert. People were standing atop the soda truck, handing out free 7 UP, a harbinger of the anarchism that pervaded the event, a stirring indictment of capitalism - or something like that. The pretense at crowd control seemed to have been abandoned by the time we reached the famous hill of mud, the fence having been trashed. So there we were, totally clueless that it was an historic event.
The first performer we saw was Melanie, barely visible over the mists of pot smoke, which, of course, gave rise to that famous comment: " Who gives a f___k about Melanie?" Fortunately, we had more than enough weed to make " I got a brand new roller skate" sound almost palatable. She was followed by Tim Hardin, who I had always looked up to, except that he started nodding out, like, during his songs, which gave rise to that other famous remark: "You don't know? Tim Hardin's a junkie, man."
Unfortunately, we seemed to have picked the bargain basement performers hour, but the scene was somewhat enlivened by the entrance of Ravi Shanker, who proceeded to coax cosmic sounds out of the sitar in concert with the hurried pace of the tabla. Just as I thought I could stretch out next to my similarly entranced girlfriend, the skies began belching rain. We pretended it wasn't happening for a few minutes before the lethal mix of upstate New York farm mud with water began to create a distinctive coating. By the time we gave up and staggerred back to the van, it was like cement.
It would have helped when we opened our bleary eyes early the next morning, limbs cramped and filthy from the combination of dirt and trying to stretch out in the narrow van , if someone had reminded us that we were at the pivotal event of the Sixties and that all the memorable performances were yet to come. Unfortunately, it just seemed like mass confusion. We resolved that we needed to leave immediately or face showing up late for work Monday morning. Consequently, we missed all the legendary artists and got drunk in a nearby bar instead, followed by swimming in an adjacent lake.
Fortunately, we made it back to a halfway point in Connecticut in time to see Midnight Cowboy. Jon Voight and Dustine Hoffman had a bigger impact on me than Woodstock at the time. I'm glad that there's so much nostalgia about the event, but most of my memories revolve around the agony as opposed to the ecstasy. So much for making history.
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