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.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Music To Rant and Rave By
My personal theory of success in the music biz involves the supermarket, in respect to the fact that whenever I was hovering over the deli counter or stalking the frozen aisles of prepared meals, if I heard an instrumental version of an artist's song, then I concluded that that particular artist had reached the peak of success. Now I'm beginning to think that radio talk shows are providing a new outlet.
Listen to Sean Hannity's show opening and you hear a burst of country, specifically a song called "Let Freedom Ring" , which has become a conservative anthem. Hannity even does concerts for his listeners, a unique form of cross promotion. Listen to the whole show, and you'll hear instrumental bridges that range from heavy metal to vintage rock and roll riffs, as if the "conservatives in exile" - as Hannity refers to his listeners - are still energized by the sounds of their youth .
Michael Savage's show "Savage Nation" is frequently punctuated with commanding guitar chords, probably as a gonzo reference to music soothing the savage beast. The intent seems to be that ripping off a powerful chord progression will make Savage sound even more important, the prophet of doom "skanking" over a bed of shrieking feedback.
The fact of the matter is that all AM radio talk shows use music. Many stations would routinely carry specific vinyl compilations of anonymous musical "bridges" to use as on air transitions as well as commercials and on air promos. Despite the spectre of fair use, the trend has been to use familiar, high profile music in place of the old timey jingles. The air of authenticity provided by real artists singing their own work can almost be a mystical experience for the boomers.
As long as the Fairness Doctrine remains a quaint memory, it's a sure bet that the right wing talkmasters will continue to dominate AM, which means that the music they use will continue to be significant. As the recording industry continues to collapse, the marriage of rock and talk may result in increased sales for the artist, truly an off the wall collaboration between fire-breathing conservative commentators and extreme left wing rockers. Politics does indeed make strange bedfellows.
Listen to Sean Hannity's show opening and you hear a burst of country, specifically a song called "Let Freedom Ring" , which has become a conservative anthem. Hannity even does concerts for his listeners, a unique form of cross promotion. Listen to the whole show, and you'll hear instrumental bridges that range from heavy metal to vintage rock and roll riffs, as if the "conservatives in exile" - as Hannity refers to his listeners - are still energized by the sounds of their youth .
Michael Savage's show "Savage Nation" is frequently punctuated with commanding guitar chords, probably as a gonzo reference to music soothing the savage beast. The intent seems to be that ripping off a powerful chord progression will make Savage sound even more important, the prophet of doom "skanking" over a bed of shrieking feedback.
The fact of the matter is that all AM radio talk shows use music. Many stations would routinely carry specific vinyl compilations of anonymous musical "bridges" to use as on air transitions as well as commercials and on air promos. Despite the spectre of fair use, the trend has been to use familiar, high profile music in place of the old timey jingles. The air of authenticity provided by real artists singing their own work can almost be a mystical experience for the boomers.
As long as the Fairness Doctrine remains a quaint memory, it's a sure bet that the right wing talkmasters will continue to dominate AM, which means that the music they use will continue to be significant. As the recording industry continues to collapse, the marriage of rock and talk may result in increased sales for the artist, truly an off the wall collaboration between fire-breathing conservative commentators and extreme left wing rockers. Politics does indeed make strange bedfellows.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Led Balloon Rises To The Occaison: May 2, 2009
In contrast to Twitter, Kindle, the IPhone and IPod ,YouTube and all the other high tech applications eagerly consumed in search of entertainment and/or diversion, a live concert in front of a crowd seems quaint and archaic. Even more shocking, in respect to the Led Balloon Jug Band concert at Northfield -Mount Hermon's newly dedicated arts center last Saturday, was the fact that there were no amplifiers or electronic devices, no software to enhance the sound, no technical wizardry to cover up human error with the exception of a few microphones. Jug band music is, after all, a sound that originated on streetcorners during the late 1920s , raucous, funky, energetic and meant to be played loudly.
The Led Balloon Jug Band was the brainchild of musicologist/songwriter/performer/educator Bruce Burnside, inspired in part by the Jim Kweskin Jug Band "revival" in the mid 1960s. He assembled a diverse group of fellow NMH students including Chris Crosby (banjo, kazoo, vocals) , Will Melton (mandolin, vocals,special sound effects), "Max" Millard and James McBean (harmonicas), Craig Roche (washtub bass, guitar, mandolin, vocals) , "Sam" Schreiber (special guest vocalist) and yours truly (jug, mediocre humor). As the band developed a following, one of the LBJB's "Special Assistants" - Deborah Wiggin - suggested to Bruce that the band should cut an album, which happened in 1967.
Flash forward to 2009, the third time the Led Balloon has re-united for a special occasion concert. This time it was different in respect to the fact that Craig Roche was no longer part of the lineup; he passed away unexpectedly last November. In order to preserve his larger-than-life memory, the concert was dubbed For The Benefit of Mr. Kite , reflecting Craig's alter ego as Mr. Kite (and lifelong love of the Beatles!). The LBJB featured two new members: Matt Snyder - replacing Craig on washtub bass - and Susan Hessey on guitar and vocals.
Thanks to Bruce's talent for arranging our generally ragged - but enthusiastic- ensemble, the audience had no idea that the entire band had not actually all played together until that particular moment. Fortunately, the charter members - who have most of these songs permanently imprinted in their memory banks by now -and the newest additions pulled off respectable versions of "Jug Band Music", "Fishin", "Morning Blues", "Whoa Mule" , "KC Moan", "Mobile Line" as well as Sam Schreiber's still flawless vocals on "Richland Woman". Susan Hessey made her official debut as the LBJB's latest chanteuse, contributing a bluesy, tongue-in-cheek rendition of the Sippie Wallace classic "You Got To Know How" (Oh, my!)". The newer tunes included "Viola Lee Blues", featuring "Shade" Melton on vocals, the jug band classic "Stealin" and the Beatles' "When I'm 64". It was Mr. Kite's idea to adapt the song to a jug band format, but the LBJB turned it into a duet, with Sam Schrieber and yours truly adding a few "dinner theatre" routines.
Ironically, the band was supposed to be embracing new technology this time around - videotaping the performance and uploading it on YouTube - but there wasn't enough time to pull it off. The Led Balloon sold commemorative tee shirts celebrating Craig Roche's life and contribution to the band, as well as Led Balloon CDs - if any of you reading this are interested in a shirt or a CD, then just respond to this blog - there are a few left. Most importantly, the band was able to make a significant contribution to the school in Craig's memory.
The LBJB would never make it on "American Idol". We're not lounge lizards or aspiring megastars, just a collection of average people who enjoy playing together. As this point in our lives, the companionship and camaraderie are just as important as the music itself, the chance to catch up and compare notes, to relive the spark of creativity that ignited back when we were 17. Although the Led Balloon has no idea where or when its next performance will be, I'd venture to say that most of the band members are already looking forward to it.
Your comments are always welcome, like this one from "Shade " himself:
In the 19th century there were lots of ways in which we built community; in fact, there were few leisure activities that did not contribute to our sense of belonging. As for music, aside from occasional troubadours appearing at the local opera house, Americans' only exposure to music was what we made ourselves. Before the advent of radio, families often doubled as musical ensembles, singing hymns, playing fiddle tunes, entertaining after dinner on the piano or Estey organ. Now we barricade ourselves behind walls of speakers and solitary headphones. No wonder we are fragmenting. Those of us in Led Balloon formed a community, preserved on vinyl thanks to our recording date in April, 1967, and it's a meaningful connection for every one of us.
The Led Balloon Jug Band was the brainchild of musicologist/songwriter/performer/educator Bruce Burnside, inspired in part by the Jim Kweskin Jug Band "revival" in the mid 1960s. He assembled a diverse group of fellow NMH students including Chris Crosby (banjo, kazoo, vocals) , Will Melton (mandolin, vocals,special sound effects), "Max" Millard and James McBean (harmonicas), Craig Roche (washtub bass, guitar, mandolin, vocals) , "Sam" Schreiber (special guest vocalist) and yours truly (jug, mediocre humor). As the band developed a following, one of the LBJB's "Special Assistants" - Deborah Wiggin - suggested to Bruce that the band should cut an album, which happened in 1967.
Flash forward to 2009, the third time the Led Balloon has re-united for a special occasion concert. This time it was different in respect to the fact that Craig Roche was no longer part of the lineup; he passed away unexpectedly last November. In order to preserve his larger-than-life memory, the concert was dubbed For The Benefit of Mr. Kite , reflecting Craig's alter ego as Mr. Kite (and lifelong love of the Beatles!). The LBJB featured two new members: Matt Snyder - replacing Craig on washtub bass - and Susan Hessey on guitar and vocals.
Thanks to Bruce's talent for arranging our generally ragged - but enthusiastic- ensemble, the audience had no idea that the entire band had not actually all played together until that particular moment. Fortunately, the charter members - who have most of these songs permanently imprinted in their memory banks by now -and the newest additions pulled off respectable versions of "Jug Band Music", "Fishin", "Morning Blues", "Whoa Mule" , "KC Moan", "Mobile Line" as well as Sam Schreiber's still flawless vocals on "Richland Woman". Susan Hessey made her official debut as the LBJB's latest chanteuse, contributing a bluesy, tongue-in-cheek rendition of the Sippie Wallace classic "You Got To Know How" (Oh, my!)". The newer tunes included "Viola Lee Blues", featuring "Shade" Melton on vocals, the jug band classic "Stealin" and the Beatles' "When I'm 64". It was Mr. Kite's idea to adapt the song to a jug band format, but the LBJB turned it into a duet, with Sam Schrieber and yours truly adding a few "dinner theatre" routines.
Ironically, the band was supposed to be embracing new technology this time around - videotaping the performance and uploading it on YouTube - but there wasn't enough time to pull it off. The Led Balloon sold commemorative tee shirts celebrating Craig Roche's life and contribution to the band, as well as Led Balloon CDs - if any of you reading this are interested in a shirt or a CD, then just respond to this blog - there are a few left. Most importantly, the band was able to make a significant contribution to the school in Craig's memory.
The LBJB would never make it on "American Idol". We're not lounge lizards or aspiring megastars, just a collection of average people who enjoy playing together. As this point in our lives, the companionship and camaraderie are just as important as the music itself, the chance to catch up and compare notes, to relive the spark of creativity that ignited back when we were 17. Although the Led Balloon has no idea where or when its next performance will be, I'd venture to say that most of the band members are already looking forward to it.
Your comments are always welcome, like this one from "Shade " himself:
In the 19th century there were lots of ways in which we built community; in fact, there were few leisure activities that did not contribute to our sense of belonging. As for music, aside from occasional troubadours appearing at the local opera house, Americans' only exposure to music was what we made ourselves. Before the advent of radio, families often doubled as musical ensembles, singing hymns, playing fiddle tunes, entertaining after dinner on the piano or Estey organ. Now we barricade ourselves behind walls of speakers and solitary headphones. No wonder we are fragmenting. Those of us in Led Balloon formed a community, preserved on vinyl thanks to our recording date in April, 1967, and it's a meaningful connection for every one of us.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Back to the Future in Newport
A sea change of sorts is taking place for the 2009 Newport, RI Folk and Jazz Festivals with respect to the fact that newly minted corporate sponsors have pulled out (JVC sponsored the Jazz Festival, while Dunkin' Donuts sponsored the Folk Festival) to be replaced by the venerable George Wein, who started the two events. Ironically, besides returning to the original promoter, both venues are bringing legendary talent back to Rhode Island.
Headlining the Folk Festival from 7/31/09-8/2/09 for its 50th anniversary are four giants of the folk world. Pete Seeger returns to the concert he helped to create, underscoring his lifelong commitment to change the world for the better through his music. Joan Baez, Judy Collins and Arlo Guthrie will join Seeger in a nod to the Festival's traditions, evoking the earnest, unjaded quality of the protest movements that characterized the early 1960s, the forced complacency of the white middle class in the 50s fractured by racism, sexism and the other institutional barriers which the Boomers decided to decimate. The "pure" folk music of these particular artists was clean and respectful, suggesting that the need for change could be lifted out of the isolated "beatnik" cultural pockets of the era and injected into the mainstream without the scruffiness and anarchism; it was OK to protest even if you were a product of the prep school/Ivy League circuit. The groundswell of change that would topple the Patti Pages, Doris Days and Frankie Laines who lulled America into the musical coma of the 1940s-50s started at the Newport Folk Festivals.
George Wein's Jazz Festival turns 55 with Tony Bennett, Etta James, The Dave Brubeck Quartet and Branford Marsalis topping the bill at Fort Adams from 8/7/09-8/8/09. Bennett has become an American icon, the top "brand" of jazz influenced vocalists, his mellow phrasing and rich voice instantly recognizable. I don't think I've ever heard another blues/jazz singer who can infuse lyrics with more power than Etta James. She is able to mutate a song into a rich vocal tapestry, cajoling, demanding, lamenting and prying the mood out of the melody. Dave Brubeck looks like the quintessential 1950s geek, bespectacled, short-haired,well dressed and well spoken , the most unlikely portrait of a musical innovator. Yet he and Paul Desmond among others lifted jazz out of the inner city and dropped it in the nation's living rooms, a bridge between black music and the white middle class, similar in a way to the rise of Elvis Presley. Branford Marsalis brings a rich New Orleans traditional background to blend the past with the present, personalizing the style to insure it survives the 21st Century.
The overwhelming sense of irony is reflected in the Folk Festival lineup. Although the "folkies" have been pushed aside by age and their "quaint" form of protest music, the recent economic and social upheavals have revived some of that sentiment. You'd have to go to to Fort Adams in Newport this summer to see if that's true, if the quintessential "old" has become new again.
Headlining the Folk Festival from 7/31/09-8/2/09 for its 50th anniversary are four giants of the folk world. Pete Seeger returns to the concert he helped to create, underscoring his lifelong commitment to change the world for the better through his music. Joan Baez, Judy Collins and Arlo Guthrie will join Seeger in a nod to the Festival's traditions, evoking the earnest, unjaded quality of the protest movements that characterized the early 1960s, the forced complacency of the white middle class in the 50s fractured by racism, sexism and the other institutional barriers which the Boomers decided to decimate. The "pure" folk music of these particular artists was clean and respectful, suggesting that the need for change could be lifted out of the isolated "beatnik" cultural pockets of the era and injected into the mainstream without the scruffiness and anarchism; it was OK to protest even if you were a product of the prep school/Ivy League circuit. The groundswell of change that would topple the Patti Pages, Doris Days and Frankie Laines who lulled America into the musical coma of the 1940s-50s started at the Newport Folk Festivals.
George Wein's Jazz Festival turns 55 with Tony Bennett, Etta James, The Dave Brubeck Quartet and Branford Marsalis topping the bill at Fort Adams from 8/7/09-8/8/09. Bennett has become an American icon, the top "brand" of jazz influenced vocalists, his mellow phrasing and rich voice instantly recognizable. I don't think I've ever heard another blues/jazz singer who can infuse lyrics with more power than Etta James. She is able to mutate a song into a rich vocal tapestry, cajoling, demanding, lamenting and prying the mood out of the melody. Dave Brubeck looks like the quintessential 1950s geek, bespectacled, short-haired,well dressed and well spoken , the most unlikely portrait of a musical innovator. Yet he and Paul Desmond among others lifted jazz out of the inner city and dropped it in the nation's living rooms, a bridge between black music and the white middle class, similar in a way to the rise of Elvis Presley. Branford Marsalis brings a rich New Orleans traditional background to blend the past with the present, personalizing the style to insure it survives the 21st Century.
The overwhelming sense of irony is reflected in the Folk Festival lineup. Although the "folkies" have been pushed aside by age and their "quaint" form of protest music, the recent economic and social upheavals have revived some of that sentiment. You'd have to go to to Fort Adams in Newport this summer to see if that's true, if the quintessential "old" has become new again.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Happy Birthday Muddy
Although April is a popular month for blues birthdays - including Billie Holiday, Buddy Guy, and Albert King among others - the most significant date in the month is the 4th, because that's the day that McKinley Morganfield - better known as Muddy Waters - was born. The year was 1915 and the place was Clarksdale, Mississippi.
In the opening scenes of the late great film Cadillac Records, we see McKinley/Muddy sitting in front of a tiny shack dwarfed by a vast plain, cradling his guitar, an epic scene that personifies the Delta blues journey, using Muddy's character as the narrative line. A tanklike sedan appears in the distance, moving relentlessly across the sea of mud, in fact carrying blues historian Alan Lomax. Waters is mystified by the contraption Lomax pulls out of his trunk -a 1940s era vintage reel to reel tape recorder - which Lomax powers by using his car battery, but Muddy is even more amazed to hear himself on tape. The actual meeting happened in 1941, and the recording was called "I Be's Troubled". Waters was 26 years old, driving a tractor on the plantation.
By 1943, Waters leaves for Chicago, where, after trying unsuccessfully to play acoustic guitar on the streetcorner, he discovers a new sound - electric guitar, apparently suggested and/or inspired by Muddy's future wife Geneva. His popularity begins to climb based on Chicago club dates until Waters attracts the attention of Chess Records' owner/founder Leonard Chess. Together they cut a wide swath through the music industry, quickly recording and releasing "I Can't Be Satisfied", "Honeybee", "Mannish Boy", "Hoochie Coochie Man" and others. Waters finds blues harp virtuoso Little Walter Horton playing on a streetcorner,incorporating him into the band. Their partnership propels Muddy to new heights, with more songs - "40 Days and 40 Nights", "Got My Mojo Working", and a solo hit for Little Walter called "Juke" among many others.
Unfortunately, Muddy Waters' career is more or less eclipsed by rock and roll. Leonard Chess is depicted in the film as providing royalties to Waters even when he hadn't earned any, Muddy's music is relegated to smaller venues and clubs. Little Walter ends up a heroin addict and bad drunk, dying in Geneva Waters' arms, apparently an oblique reference to the harmonica player's lifelong "crush" on his best friend's wife.
Ironically, just when the blues seems to be on life support, the English rockers - Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, John Mayall, Mick Jagger - start listening to Waters' music and recording his songs. The aging blues legend is suddenly back in vogue, no one apparently more surprised than Muddy himself as he plays for crowds of infatuated young white fans overseas. Waters' musical revival leads to sessions with younger musicians, the best product of this association being a partnership with guitarist Johnny Winter. Waters dies in his sleep on April 30, 1983.
Ordinarily, McKinley Morganfield's life would have been just another footnote in American music were it not for a series of circumstances that bridged the gaps in his career. As depicted in "Cadillac Records" , Muddy Waters becomes a mythic figure, the personification of Delta blues adapting and changing to meet the demands of the urban environment, a pioneer who blazed a new trail to preserve and invigorate a true American art form.
In the opening scenes of the late great film Cadillac Records, we see McKinley/Muddy sitting in front of a tiny shack dwarfed by a vast plain, cradling his guitar, an epic scene that personifies the Delta blues journey, using Muddy's character as the narrative line. A tanklike sedan appears in the distance, moving relentlessly across the sea of mud, in fact carrying blues historian Alan Lomax. Waters is mystified by the contraption Lomax pulls out of his trunk -a 1940s era vintage reel to reel tape recorder - which Lomax powers by using his car battery, but Muddy is even more amazed to hear himself on tape. The actual meeting happened in 1941, and the recording was called "I Be's Troubled". Waters was 26 years old, driving a tractor on the plantation.
By 1943, Waters leaves for Chicago, where, after trying unsuccessfully to play acoustic guitar on the streetcorner, he discovers a new sound - electric guitar, apparently suggested and/or inspired by Muddy's future wife Geneva. His popularity begins to climb based on Chicago club dates until Waters attracts the attention of Chess Records' owner/founder Leonard Chess. Together they cut a wide swath through the music industry, quickly recording and releasing "I Can't Be Satisfied", "Honeybee", "Mannish Boy", "Hoochie Coochie Man" and others. Waters finds blues harp virtuoso Little Walter Horton playing on a streetcorner,incorporating him into the band. Their partnership propels Muddy to new heights, with more songs - "40 Days and 40 Nights", "Got My Mojo Working", and a solo hit for Little Walter called "Juke" among many others.
Unfortunately, Muddy Waters' career is more or less eclipsed by rock and roll. Leonard Chess is depicted in the film as providing royalties to Waters even when he hadn't earned any, Muddy's music is relegated to smaller venues and clubs. Little Walter ends up a heroin addict and bad drunk, dying in Geneva Waters' arms, apparently an oblique reference to the harmonica player's lifelong "crush" on his best friend's wife.
Ironically, just when the blues seems to be on life support, the English rockers - Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, John Mayall, Mick Jagger - start listening to Waters' music and recording his songs. The aging blues legend is suddenly back in vogue, no one apparently more surprised than Muddy himself as he plays for crowds of infatuated young white fans overseas. Waters' musical revival leads to sessions with younger musicians, the best product of this association being a partnership with guitarist Johnny Winter. Waters dies in his sleep on April 30, 1983.
Ordinarily, McKinley Morganfield's life would have been just another footnote in American music were it not for a series of circumstances that bridged the gaps in his career. As depicted in "Cadillac Records" , Muddy Waters becomes a mythic figure, the personification of Delta blues adapting and changing to meet the demands of the urban environment, a pioneer who blazed a new trail to preserve and invigorate a true American art form.
Friday, March 20, 2009
RIP Sonny Terry
One of the most surprising segments of a unique blues DVD I saw recently (Provided - of course - by the ubiquitous "Shade" Melton) shows harmonica virtuoso Sonny Terry and guitarist Brownie McGhee playing "Stranger Blues" to a crowd of eager listeners who are actually dancing - at one point - to Terry's solo harp playing, punctuated by Terry's whoops and hollers in place of percussion. What surprised me the most was that this single , rather diminutive instrument was creating as much sound as a dance band, but the clip is not so much a testament to the blues harp as it is to the talent of Sonny Terry who died during the month of March.
Saunders Terrell was born in Greensboro, North Carolina in 1911. Although I've always heard he was born blind, apparently (According to The BluesHarp Page: Legends) "Sonny" lost sight in one eye when he was 5 and the other when he was 18. Consequently, Terry's options for making a living were limited, so he began playing harmonica on streetcorners. This lead to a partnership with Blind Boy Fuller, ending with Fuller's death in 1941. At that point, Sonny Terry began a long-lasting partnership with Brownie McGhee.
Unlike numerous other blues musicians, the duo became an integral part of the folk movement of the late 1950s - early 1960s. Some of the songs specifically attributed to Terry include "Old Jabo", which recounts the story of a man who dies from a snake bite, the harmonica carrying the rthymn as well as the melody, producing an authentic "country blues" sound. One of my favorites is "Walk On", a tribute to the importance of never giving up, which features both McGhee and Terry harmonizing. The only solo Terry effort I've run across is an obscure instrumental called "Harmonica Hop", which is understandable, since it doesn't emphasize Terry's unique style - he just plays along. "Brownie's New Blues" , a cut on a CD collection of blues artists, features the duo in a new collaboration, abandoning their folk tradition to dabble in urban blues. The musicianship is excellent, but it rings hollow compared to the "pure folk" sound of "Old Jabo."
Sonny Terry's distinctive harmonica sound has been used for the soundtracks of several films, as well as commercials. Terry died in March of 1986, the same year he was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame. Unlike many other blues giants who struggled for recognition, Sonny Terry rose from a hardscrabble childhood and a serious handicap to achieve fame , fortune and praise.
Saunders Terrell was born in Greensboro, North Carolina in 1911. Although I've always heard he was born blind, apparently (According to The BluesHarp Page: Legends) "Sonny" lost sight in one eye when he was 5 and the other when he was 18. Consequently, Terry's options for making a living were limited, so he began playing harmonica on streetcorners. This lead to a partnership with Blind Boy Fuller, ending with Fuller's death in 1941. At that point, Sonny Terry began a long-lasting partnership with Brownie McGhee.
Unlike numerous other blues musicians, the duo became an integral part of the folk movement of the late 1950s - early 1960s. Some of the songs specifically attributed to Terry include "Old Jabo", which recounts the story of a man who dies from a snake bite, the harmonica carrying the rthymn as well as the melody, producing an authentic "country blues" sound. One of my favorites is "Walk On", a tribute to the importance of never giving up, which features both McGhee and Terry harmonizing. The only solo Terry effort I've run across is an obscure instrumental called "Harmonica Hop", which is understandable, since it doesn't emphasize Terry's unique style - he just plays along. "Brownie's New Blues" , a cut on a CD collection of blues artists, features the duo in a new collaboration, abandoning their folk tradition to dabble in urban blues. The musicianship is excellent, but it rings hollow compared to the "pure folk" sound of "Old Jabo."
Sonny Terry's distinctive harmonica sound has been used for the soundtracks of several films, as well as commercials. Terry died in March of 1986, the same year he was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame. Unlike many other blues giants who struggled for recognition, Sonny Terry rose from a hardscrabble childhood and a serious handicap to achieve fame , fortune and praise.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The Obligatory St. Patrick's Day Irish Music Blog
Irish music is not my strong point. I don't mean U2, Van Morrison, Sinead O'Connor or The Hothouse Flowers - I mean Riverdance, Celtic Women and the other purveyors of "traditional" Irish music. I admire the precision, the technique, the desire to preserve a traditional culture - the content is what bothers me. I don't think I've ever heard a happy traditional Irish tune, with the exception of "Irish Eyes" - but even that isn't entirely upbeat. I always think of Irish music as being incredibly mournful, tales of lost loves and lost lives sung by long haired women with sad eyes playing harps. Jigs and reels are happy and upbeat, but I've heard more ballads than blowouts , which explains my built-in prejudice.
Besides , Saint Patrick's day isn't really a holiday - it's an opportunity to get wasted. which seems incredibly un -PC, not to mention the image it creates of the Emerald Isle. The schizophrenic nature of the annual whatever was amply illustrated during one forgettable period in my broadcasting career when I spent St. Pat's doing live "drops" from an Irish watering hole in scenic Framingham. No one wanted to be interviewed since they had blown off work and were afraid their bosses might recognize their voices. I couldn't drink with them since I had to stay alert, so I simply watched them get slowly trashed. The high point was interviewing one extremely wasted barfly who finally agreed to talk on the air only so she could unleash one of those words you're not supposed to say, thus earning me a blistering phone call from the station manager. The final indignity on that particular occasion happened a few minutes after my shift ended, pulling over to retch on the side of Route 9, the result of eating a free sandwich.
I'm not arguing about the nobility of suffering and the need for poetic expression through song; I'm just wondering why the dominant emotion has to be despair. Ironically, there is a definite parallel between the legacy of American blues music and my perception of Irish music - the same bleak view of romance, the feeling of being trapped by your unalterable circumstances. I'm reminded of a picture I saw on the wall of an excavation outside Williamsburg, Virginia, part of an exhibit documenting one of the earliest English settlements, which depicted a bug-eyed, long haired being identified as a wild Irishman. The captured Celts were imported from the Auld Sod as slaves to the colonists in the same way Africans were kidnapped to work on Southern plantations. Perhaps this is the link, the cross-cultural emotional core that links the two seemingly divergent forms, proof that suffering produces great art.
However, even though I am supposedly part Irish, I'm not about to let that wave of emotion wash me away this Saint Patrick's Day. Chances are better that I'll take a few swallows of (green) beer to remind myself that the glass is never half empty but in fact, half full.
Besides , Saint Patrick's day isn't really a holiday - it's an opportunity to get wasted. which seems incredibly un -PC, not to mention the image it creates of the Emerald Isle. The schizophrenic nature of the annual whatever was amply illustrated during one forgettable period in my broadcasting career when I spent St. Pat's doing live "drops" from an Irish watering hole in scenic Framingham. No one wanted to be interviewed since they had blown off work and were afraid their bosses might recognize their voices. I couldn't drink with them since I had to stay alert, so I simply watched them get slowly trashed. The high point was interviewing one extremely wasted barfly who finally agreed to talk on the air only so she could unleash one of those words you're not supposed to say, thus earning me a blistering phone call from the station manager. The final indignity on that particular occasion happened a few minutes after my shift ended, pulling over to retch on the side of Route 9, the result of eating a free sandwich.
I'm not arguing about the nobility of suffering and the need for poetic expression through song; I'm just wondering why the dominant emotion has to be despair. Ironically, there is a definite parallel between the legacy of American blues music and my perception of Irish music - the same bleak view of romance, the feeling of being trapped by your unalterable circumstances. I'm reminded of a picture I saw on the wall of an excavation outside Williamsburg, Virginia, part of an exhibit documenting one of the earliest English settlements, which depicted a bug-eyed, long haired being identified as a wild Irishman. The captured Celts were imported from the Auld Sod as slaves to the colonists in the same way Africans were kidnapped to work on Southern plantations. Perhaps this is the link, the cross-cultural emotional core that links the two seemingly divergent forms, proof that suffering produces great art.
However, even though I am supposedly part Irish, I'm not about to let that wave of emotion wash me away this Saint Patrick's Day. Chances are better that I'll take a few swallows of (green) beer to remind myself that the glass is never half empty but in fact, half full.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
The Clock is Ticking
Ever stop to consider the schizophrenic relationship that we have with time? When you're a teenager, you can hardly wait to turn old enough to drink or drive; when you're uncomfortably close to the big six - o, you would jump at the chance to lose a few decades. However disconcerting it may be, we all have to face the fact that - as Mick Jagger put it so succinctly - "Time waits for no one and it won't wait for me." Consequently, as I am acutely aware that time is running out for me and my alleged lifestyle, I've come up with a few "time" lines.
One of the great Sixties anthems is "Time" by the Chambers Brothers - who could forget the psychedelic impact of the group chanting: "Time! " as the clock ticks ominously in the background. Yet the message was: "Time has come today" , as in the moment is now, change is in the air, we can't turn back. From a different perspective - but approximately the same era - we have Tyrone Davis' soulful lyric (re-done by R Kelly) lamenting:"If I could turn back the hands of time," a more commonly accepted view of having the time back that you squandered so you can re-write the past. I've frequently wanted to join Jethro Tull "Living in the Past" - seriously,what's the point of being paralyzed by the wreckage in the stock market when you can delude yourself with visions of "Glory Days"?
Ray Charles' "Night Time is the Right Time" is another angle on when it's "time" to fall in love, as opposed to Dr. John's familiar (and oh-so-true refrain) : "I was in the right place/But it must have been the wrong time." However, as Pete Seeger and the Byrds remind us: "There is a time for every purpose under heaven" ("Turn,Turn,Turn"). There's always as a first time - as in Lou Gramm and Foreigner reminding us that: "It feels like the first time " - and there's always a last time - Jagger and the Stones pointing out: "This could be the last time - baby the last time - I don't know-oh no -no no no (etc)."
Mick and company win the BSRR Best Time Song for March,2009, mainly because they've managed to express the hope of us aging boomers that: "Time is on my side - yes it is."
One of the great Sixties anthems is "Time" by the Chambers Brothers - who could forget the psychedelic impact of the group chanting: "Time! " as the clock ticks ominously in the background. Yet the message was: "Time has come today" , as in the moment is now, change is in the air, we can't turn back. From a different perspective - but approximately the same era - we have Tyrone Davis' soulful lyric (re-done by R Kelly) lamenting:"If I could turn back the hands of time," a more commonly accepted view of having the time back that you squandered so you can re-write the past. I've frequently wanted to join Jethro Tull "Living in the Past" - seriously,what's the point of being paralyzed by the wreckage in the stock market when you can delude yourself with visions of "Glory Days"?
Ray Charles' "Night Time is the Right Time" is another angle on when it's "time" to fall in love, as opposed to Dr. John's familiar (and oh-so-true refrain) : "I was in the right place/But it must have been the wrong time." However, as Pete Seeger and the Byrds remind us: "There is a time for every purpose under heaven" ("Turn,Turn,Turn"). There's always as a first time - as in Lou Gramm and Foreigner reminding us that: "It feels like the first time " - and there's always a last time - Jagger and the Stones pointing out: "This could be the last time - baby the last time - I don't know-oh no -no no no (etc)."
Mick and company win the BSRR Best Time Song for March,2009, mainly because they've managed to express the hope of us aging boomers that: "Time is on my side - yes it is."
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Great Harmonica Crisis
It all started innocently enough. If you've read this blog more than once, then you may have picked up on my desire to play harmonica like Paul Butterfield or Rod Piazza. I did in fact play blues harp for the Phoenix Blues Band's brief rise and fall during one memorable Martha's Vineyard summer (1968? I think). My virtuosity consisted of playing any note that sounded vaguely appropriate as long as possible before risking the chance of switching to one that was obviously flat, and I destroyed quite a few Hohner Marine Bands. Since America doesn't seem to want me for anything serious right now, I thought I'd take it up again - who knows, maybe add a tin cup and a dancing monkey and viola! - head for the nearest street corner and show the recession who's boss. Consequently, I headed for a music store that I've driven past for years, walked inside and asked if they had any harmonicas.
You would have thought I asked the guy to donate a kidney. He immediately launched into a major lecture that incorporated floods and (I think) political unrest in Thailand , which meant that the reed farms had been flooded so that the supply of reeds from Southeast Asia had dried up, so that if I wanted a harmonica, it was AT LEAST a three week wait unless there was a coup in Bangkok - and not only that, but the new harmonica would set me back thirty five bucks. As I pondered the discovery that component parts for harmonicas are actually imported and subject to the vagaries of the global marketplace like most other products, I realized how naive I was, having not bought a Hohner since the 1960s and somehow being simple-minded enough to think the price was still five bucks. After more debate over the price and the delay, I beat a hasty retreat , surprised that I was shut out of the harmonica industry.
You would have thought I asked the guy to donate a kidney. He immediately launched into a major lecture that incorporated floods and (I think) political unrest in Thailand , which meant that the reed farms had been flooded so that the supply of reeds from Southeast Asia had dried up, so that if I wanted a harmonica, it was AT LEAST a three week wait unless there was a coup in Bangkok - and not only that, but the new harmonica would set me back thirty five bucks. As I pondered the discovery that component parts for harmonicas are actually imported and subject to the vagaries of the global marketplace like most other products, I realized how naive I was, having not bought a Hohner since the 1960s and somehow being simple-minded enough to think the price was still five bucks. After more debate over the price and the delay, I beat a hasty retreat , surprised that I was shut out of the harmonica industry.
Back home, I realized I couldn't give up that easily. Promises had been made, expectations had been raised - failure was not an option. Fortunately, in a charitable attempt to encourage my explorations on the mouth harp, "Shade" Melton provided me with a G, an A and an E. Thus fortified, I took the major step of actually spending my own money on one of those "learn at home" programs which, for only $19.99 ,promises to transform the average person into a world class player in 10 east lessons. I eagerly ripped open the CD when it arrived, grabbed my mouth harps, and proceeded to try and play along, until I realized that every tune in the lesson used a C harp. I began to understand why everything sounded off key.
My new career as a mouth harp master is at a crossroads. Do I ignore the recent political unrest and fly to Bangkok for my own supply of reeds, or continue to practice (and sound wretched) until I stumble upon a C? Only time and my own desire to actually learn how to do something musical will tell the final tale. Meanwhile, hang on to your harmonicas - you never can tell if there's going to be another coup attempt in Thailand.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Bruce Burnside's "Unsung Stories of the Civil War"
Musician/musicologist Bruce Burnside has a lifelong affinity for the Civil War which began in his childhood , thanks to encouragement from his father: "..My dad introduced me to the Civil War when I was 5 or 6...Our house was FULL of trapdoor Springfields, cartridges and various pieces of military stuff...Being able to put coins in my pocket that existed during the Civil War, hold guns, ammunition, swords and knives from the period made it seem real..." The strongest connection between Bruce and the War Between The States is the fact that he is descended from Union General Ambrose Burnside (The General cast a long shadow in Rhode Island, as evidenced by the number of streets named after him as well as his statue - but that's another story).
Bruce Burnside decided to transform his love of Civil War history into a series of musical vignettes called "Unsung Heroes of the Civil War" , to make history come to life in an educational setting. The National Endowment for the Arts, in recognition of Burnside's work, has recently awarded him a Challenging America Grant to orchestrate the songs and do two local performances with a 24 piece chamber orchestra. BSSR caught up with Bruce recently to find out more about the project and the grant.
BSSR:
How is the work structured?
BURNSIDE:
The stage presentation has three actors.. who have a script memorized. They deliver their lines and sing songs. They play guitar, fiddle,banjo and penny whistle in different combinations while the sing. For this project, the chamber orchestra plays as well.
BSSR:
Do you see any parallels between the Civil War era and today?
BURNSIDE:
What I teach fifth graders in my school residencies is the similarity of peoples' behavior then and now. WWII veterans said exactly what Civil War vets said. Getting to the sources allows us to see the parallels in political behavior, the economic exploitation, the poor, young soldiers escaping their dead end opportunities, etc. "A rich man's fight and a poor man's war."
BSSR:
What message do you want to convey?
BURNSIDE:
What I want to convey is that people have the potential to use their energy to achieve great things. War takes away the energy and changes the person into a less positive individual.... Walking the battlefields gives me the perspective of the massive forces, but I look at it one face at a time. I guess I want to remind us that we've already tried this and it isn't a solution.
For more information on "Unsung Heroes" plus Bruce's music, performance schedule and insight, just Google his name.
Bruce Burnside decided to transform his love of Civil War history into a series of musical vignettes called "Unsung Heroes of the Civil War" , to make history come to life in an educational setting. The National Endowment for the Arts, in recognition of Burnside's work, has recently awarded him a Challenging America Grant to orchestrate the songs and do two local performances with a 24 piece chamber orchestra. BSSR caught up with Bruce recently to find out more about the project and the grant.
BSSR:
How is the work structured?
BURNSIDE:
The stage presentation has three actors.. who have a script memorized. They deliver their lines and sing songs. They play guitar, fiddle,banjo and penny whistle in different combinations while the sing. For this project, the chamber orchestra plays as well.
BSSR:
Do you see any parallels between the Civil War era and today?
BURNSIDE:
What I teach fifth graders in my school residencies is the similarity of peoples' behavior then and now. WWII veterans said exactly what Civil War vets said. Getting to the sources allows us to see the parallels in political behavior, the economic exploitation, the poor, young soldiers escaping their dead end opportunities, etc. "A rich man's fight and a poor man's war."
BSSR:
What message do you want to convey?
BURNSIDE:
What I want to convey is that people have the potential to use their energy to achieve great things. War takes away the energy and changes the person into a less positive individual.... Walking the battlefields gives me the perspective of the massive forces, but I look at it one face at a time. I guess I want to remind us that we've already tried this and it isn't a solution.
For more information on "Unsung Heroes" plus Bruce's music, performance schedule and insight, just Google his name.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Tom Joad's Top Ten
I've become inundated with so many disturbing media prognostications about the US economy being on life support that I'm convinced this recession is being staged to sell more newspapers and boost ratings. There may be some validity to the suggestion that bad times are enhanced by great press coverage, each dire report relentlessly trumped by the next, until readers/viewers are convinced that the economic end times are here and act accordingly. The "Grapes of Wrath" syndrome has already turned millions of once contented Americans into angry Tom Joads, shut out of the economy for reasons that no one can really explain, the "new" Okies, c. 2009. How long will it take until we see modern day caravans of down on their luck families searching from state to state for the next low wage job?
Since I'm waking up at 4:00 AM most mornings wondering how many more months I can survive, it occurred to me that us latter day Joads might best amuse ourselves by devising our own "hit" lists of tunes that seem to describe the (don't use that word) Depression of 2009. First and foremost and nearly synonymous with Tom Joad is Pete Seeger's 1930s era ditty about: "If you ain't got the dough-ray-me, boys..." , basically a warning that California doesn't want you if you're broke, thus puncturing the "pie in the sky" dream of prosperity that gave hope to the Dust Bowl refugees.
But economic chaos in the new century bears little resemblance to the Thirties; we don't have dramatic collapses, we have more gradual - and predictable - progressions into bankruptcy. My pick for the 2009 theme song is "Going Down Slow" as sung by Howling Wolf, because that's really what it's all about - slowly sinking into the quicksand of poverty and fear. Speaking of the blues, given the music's origin, there are some excellent hymns to the power of money, my favorite being Ray Charles' "I'm Busted", but "A Nickel's Worth of Liver" by Edith North Johnson is a definite dark horse, since it combines poverty and domestic violence. As Albert Collins puts it :" ..If trouble was money / I'd be a millionaire.." on his spine-tingling live version of "If Trouble Was Money", but he also knows how to make fun of over-extending your credit limit in "Master Charge" - the chorus sounds like the first example of "brand placement" in the blues since all Albert says is: "Master Charge / Bank Americard.." Probably the funniest but relatively most obscure odes to the Almighty dollar is "Broke" by Mitch Woods and Rocket 88s", the sad tale of an almost penniless dude who tries to impress a date by buying her a drink - only to find out that she orders everything in the Bartender's Guide as in: "Pina Colada/Vodka with a twist/A shot of whiskey/And an Irish Mist " (These are MY lyrics by the way, but you get the idea!).
Doesn't take much to see how money ends up in most forms of popular music - like the O'Jays' "Money" (Money-Money-Mon-AH!) or Boz Scaggs' version of "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?, or the rap refrains of: " If it ain't about the Benjamins/Then Puffy just don't care" or Fitty Cent' words to live by - "Get rich or die tryin" . Then there's movie titles, from: "Three Coins in the Fountain" to "The Color of Money ", TV, of course, with "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?", where hapless contestants were routinely savaged by a smug Regis Philbin, to "Deal or No Deal", where hapless contestants are routinely trashed by a smirking Howie Mandell, and the socially acceptable dreams that are expressed in timeworn aphorisms every day."A penny saved is a penny earned " (Advice that certainly was not heeded until last September), "Find a penny/Pick it up/All day long/You'll have good luck", "You look like a million", "What's your two cents?", etc.,etc.,etc.
Remember - the next time you wake up feeling like Tom Joad in the agonizing pre-dawn hours, there are a few tunes that may calm you enough to go back to sleep. Try humming "Pennies From Heaven" and counting sheep.
Since I'm waking up at 4:00 AM most mornings wondering how many more months I can survive, it occurred to me that us latter day Joads might best amuse ourselves by devising our own "hit" lists of tunes that seem to describe the (don't use that word) Depression of 2009. First and foremost and nearly synonymous with Tom Joad is Pete Seeger's 1930s era ditty about: "If you ain't got the dough-ray-me, boys..." , basically a warning that California doesn't want you if you're broke, thus puncturing the "pie in the sky" dream of prosperity that gave hope to the Dust Bowl refugees.
But economic chaos in the new century bears little resemblance to the Thirties; we don't have dramatic collapses, we have more gradual - and predictable - progressions into bankruptcy. My pick for the 2009 theme song is "Going Down Slow" as sung by Howling Wolf, because that's really what it's all about - slowly sinking into the quicksand of poverty and fear. Speaking of the blues, given the music's origin, there are some excellent hymns to the power of money, my favorite being Ray Charles' "I'm Busted", but "A Nickel's Worth of Liver" by Edith North Johnson is a definite dark horse, since it combines poverty and domestic violence. As Albert Collins puts it :" ..If trouble was money / I'd be a millionaire.." on his spine-tingling live version of "If Trouble Was Money", but he also knows how to make fun of over-extending your credit limit in "Master Charge" - the chorus sounds like the first example of "brand placement" in the blues since all Albert says is: "Master Charge / Bank Americard.." Probably the funniest but relatively most obscure odes to the Almighty dollar is "Broke" by Mitch Woods and Rocket 88s", the sad tale of an almost penniless dude who tries to impress a date by buying her a drink - only to find out that she orders everything in the Bartender's Guide as in: "Pina Colada/Vodka with a twist/A shot of whiskey/And an Irish Mist " (These are MY lyrics by the way, but you get the idea!).
Doesn't take much to see how money ends up in most forms of popular music - like the O'Jays' "Money" (Money-Money-Mon-AH!) or Boz Scaggs' version of "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?, or the rap refrains of: " If it ain't about the Benjamins/Then Puffy just don't care" or Fitty Cent' words to live by - "Get rich or die tryin" . Then there's movie titles, from: "Three Coins in the Fountain" to "The Color of Money ", TV, of course, with "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?", where hapless contestants were routinely savaged by a smug Regis Philbin, to "Deal or No Deal", where hapless contestants are routinely trashed by a smirking Howie Mandell, and the socially acceptable dreams that are expressed in timeworn aphorisms every day."A penny saved is a penny earned " (Advice that certainly was not heeded until last September), "Find a penny/Pick it up/All day long/You'll have good luck", "You look like a million", "What's your two cents?", etc.,etc.,etc.
Remember - the next time you wake up feeling like Tom Joad in the agonizing pre-dawn hours, there are a few tunes that may calm you enough to go back to sleep. Try humming "Pennies From Heaven" and counting sheep.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Deconstructing Delta Blues
The more I write about music, the more I realize how little I know about the various genres. Fortunately, my blues education is finally developing; a friend sent me a copy of Ted Gioia's new book, "Delta Blues" (2008) published by W.W. Norton , New York and London. It seems fitting that, as I approach the second anniversary of BSRR, I am finally beginning to learn about the music.
The best thing about this extremely comprehensive work is in the details. The facts about these legendary Delta musicians dispel the outlandish mythology that has grown up with the spread of the music, in the same way that Sixties rock rumors mushroomed through word-of-mouth - Paul McCartney's barefoot on the Abby Road cover because he died , Mama Cass Eliott choked to death on a ham sandwich, Jimi Hendrix' drummer's heart exploded because of an overdose of speed, etc.,etc. The best known Delta blues tall tale is - of course- Robert Johnson's legendary deal with the devil, and Gioia chases down every tenuous thread of information about the cryptic musician, exposing the "Me and the Devil" story as an early form of image management, designed to enhance Johnson's career, and demonstrating that the same manufactured "hype" has been applied to other blues giants, including Howling Wolf. Johnson's untimely death is described in detail, but, as is the case with most stories about the cryptic musician, Gioia's research can't substantiate the circumstances with official accounts; instead, as is the case of most of the stories about Delta artists, he faithfully repeats the remembrances of other players . The truth about Robert Johnson is that he encouraged the linkage with the devil, elevating his reputation in the back country juke joints and the sleepy Delta hamlets, the pre-cursor to the demonic rock industry, personified by Ozzy Osborne; it was said that he paid for this association by a slow, agonizing death. Ironically, the spectre of religion seems to haunt a lot of the back country bluesmen with Gioia pointing out that many were ashamed to admit, when "re-discovered " in the Sixties ,that they had ever played the "evil" blues.
Delta Blues meticulously documents the alleged beginning of the "popularization" of the genre, when W.C. Handy sees a musician playing by a Mississippi train station and turns it into "The St. Louis Blues" in 1902. As interesting as the early tales of Charley Patton, Tommy Johnson, Son House, Lonnie Johnson and many others are, Gioia delves into de-mystifying some of the commonly-accepted Delta imagery as well through detailed descriptions of Parchman Farm , the Dockery plantation among others, the Delta itself, and a myriad of facts documenting such blues aficionado trivia as the origin of the expressions "dirt poor" and "where the Southern cross the Dog". The early pioneers who popularized the music are woven into the story as well , the most notable being H.C.Speir's record shop - slash - recording studio in Jackson, Mississippi where many of the masters were first immortalized, and the rise and fall of the various struggling blues labels - Paramount, OKeh, Victor and - of course - the legendary sessions in a San Antonio hotel when two British expatriates infatuated with the emerging American blues recorded Robert Johnson on the ARC label in 1936.
The transition from Clarksdale to Chicago is personified by the larger than life figures of Muddy Waters , first recorded in front of his Delta shack by Alan Lomax using a recording device powered by his car battery which propelled Muddy to worldwide fame and a lucrative career playing clubs and making records for Chess; Howlin' Wolf, older but much wilder, his towering stage presence enhanced by tricks like shaking up a Coke bottle, sticking it in his pants and popping the top during the climax of a song ; John Lee Hooker, whose feet barely touched the Delta mud at birth before his family fled, a musician who nobody could follow because he never played a song the same way twice but Hooker's music didn't really have a beat, but a throbbing pulse which nobody could duplicate; and last but certainly not least, B.B. King, whose talent bridged the gap into jazz, rock and classical, and whose longevity has made him the Mount Rushmore of the blues.
There are very few stones left unturned by the end of this four hundred - plus page tome, which includes a detailed discography. If you want to dispel the myths and delve into the grit about this truly American art form, then check out Delta Blues .
The best thing about this extremely comprehensive work is in the details. The facts about these legendary Delta musicians dispel the outlandish mythology that has grown up with the spread of the music, in the same way that Sixties rock rumors mushroomed through word-of-mouth - Paul McCartney's barefoot on the Abby Road cover because he died , Mama Cass Eliott choked to death on a ham sandwich, Jimi Hendrix' drummer's heart exploded because of an overdose of speed, etc.,etc. The best known Delta blues tall tale is - of course- Robert Johnson's legendary deal with the devil, and Gioia chases down every tenuous thread of information about the cryptic musician, exposing the "Me and the Devil" story as an early form of image management, designed to enhance Johnson's career, and demonstrating that the same manufactured "hype" has been applied to other blues giants, including Howling Wolf. Johnson's untimely death is described in detail, but, as is the case with most stories about the cryptic musician, Gioia's research can't substantiate the circumstances with official accounts; instead, as is the case of most of the stories about Delta artists, he faithfully repeats the remembrances of other players . The truth about Robert Johnson is that he encouraged the linkage with the devil, elevating his reputation in the back country juke joints and the sleepy Delta hamlets, the pre-cursor to the demonic rock industry, personified by Ozzy Osborne; it was said that he paid for this association by a slow, agonizing death. Ironically, the spectre of religion seems to haunt a lot of the back country bluesmen with Gioia pointing out that many were ashamed to admit, when "re-discovered " in the Sixties ,that they had ever played the "evil" blues.
Delta Blues meticulously documents the alleged beginning of the "popularization" of the genre, when W.C. Handy sees a musician playing by a Mississippi train station and turns it into "The St. Louis Blues" in 1902. As interesting as the early tales of Charley Patton, Tommy Johnson, Son House, Lonnie Johnson and many others are, Gioia delves into de-mystifying some of the commonly-accepted Delta imagery as well through detailed descriptions of Parchman Farm , the Dockery plantation among others, the Delta itself, and a myriad of facts documenting such blues aficionado trivia as the origin of the expressions "dirt poor" and "where the Southern cross the Dog". The early pioneers who popularized the music are woven into the story as well , the most notable being H.C.Speir's record shop - slash - recording studio in Jackson, Mississippi where many of the masters were first immortalized, and the rise and fall of the various struggling blues labels - Paramount, OKeh, Victor and - of course - the legendary sessions in a San Antonio hotel when two British expatriates infatuated with the emerging American blues recorded Robert Johnson on the ARC label in 1936.
The transition from Clarksdale to Chicago is personified by the larger than life figures of Muddy Waters , first recorded in front of his Delta shack by Alan Lomax using a recording device powered by his car battery which propelled Muddy to worldwide fame and a lucrative career playing clubs and making records for Chess; Howlin' Wolf, older but much wilder, his towering stage presence enhanced by tricks like shaking up a Coke bottle, sticking it in his pants and popping the top during the climax of a song ; John Lee Hooker, whose feet barely touched the Delta mud at birth before his family fled, a musician who nobody could follow because he never played a song the same way twice but Hooker's music didn't really have a beat, but a throbbing pulse which nobody could duplicate; and last but certainly not least, B.B. King, whose talent bridged the gap into jazz, rock and classical, and whose longevity has made him the Mount Rushmore of the blues.
There are very few stones left unturned by the end of this four hundred - plus page tome, which includes a detailed discography. If you want to dispel the myths and delve into the grit about this truly American art form, then check out Delta Blues .
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