Raisin a Ruckus With Roomful of Blues

For a little state, Rhode Island is big on the blues, and the best example of that is Roomful of Blues. BSRR caught with them last weekend at Chan's in Woonsocket for a sold out show, and spent a few minutes talking to lead guitarist Chris Vachon:

BSRR:
It's been a rough year for you guys. Can you tell us what happened and how the benefit went a couple of weeks ago?

CHRIS VACHON:
Most people know that Bob Enos passed away on the road with us. He had been in the band for 28 years. It was a big shock to us. It really took a lot out of us. We still haven't really gotten over it. We just had a benefit for him at Rhodes-on-the-Pawtuxet in Providence, Rhode Island. It went over really well. About 850 people showed up. It was to benefit his family. We're proud about that.

BSRR:
How's the response so far to "Raising a Ruckus"?

CHRIS VACHON:
It's been very good. We've been on the Billboard charts since it came out. We've charted every week.

BSRR:
How long ago and how did you guys form originally?

CHRIS VACHON:
It was Duke Robillard and Al Copley that started the band. That was around 1971. Just kind of a straight up Chicago blues band without horns. They added horns a couple of years later. It's been going on ever since, so I guess it's probably 39 years now, something like that.

BSRR:
All the years you guys have played and now, finally, fame's catching up with you.

CHRIS VACHON:
Yeah, right.

BSRR:
I wanted to ask you about the song "While I Can". Tell me a little bit about that song.

CHRIS VACHON:
That's my wife's song. She wrote that. She wrote the words and I had an idea what to do with it. I helped her out with music and the band chipped in and that's how that came about.

BSRR:
What are some of your favorite cuts on "Raising a Ruckus"?

CHRIS VACHON:
"While I Can." No, seriously, I like everything on it. That's why we recorded these songs. We like them all. So I don't really have a particular favorite.

BSRR:
I'm a big fan of your break on "The Love You Lost Along the Way" (from Roomful's CD "Standing Room Only"). What guitarists would you say influenced you growing up?

CHRIS VACHON:
I started with B.B. King when I was about 12. Just went through Guitar Slim, Albert King, Albert Collins, all of those guys, there's way too many to name. I guess that's how I came up with what I do - whatever that is.

BSRR:
How many nights are you out on the road now?

CHRIS VACHON:
200 a year. We're still at it. That's what we do.

BSRR:
What do you have coming up for the future?

CHRIS VACHON:
We're building a schedule for the summer. We've got a framework of some festivals so we'll be out in the Midwest, go to California and do the same stuff we always do when we tour to support a CD.

Roomful played two sold out shows at Chan's with its solid mix of tight horns, flawless guitar and vocals, and rocking keyboards , the band's trademark R & B with an emphasis on the "B". But don't just take my word for it - pick up a copy of "Raising a Ruckus" on Alligator Records and see what the ruckus is all about. (http://www.alligator.com/)

Jery's Jazz

My late wife Jery loved jazz. She introduced me to the music along with Otis Sutton, who had a long standing show called Night Train on the former WCIB in Falmouth back in the day. Once Martha's Vineyard's first FM station got off the ground in 1975, I convinced the owner to see if Otis was still available, which lead to the creation of jazz weekends. Otis was on for several hours both Saturday and Sunday. His signature albums at the time included "Headhunters", Herbie Hancock's breakout explosion of funk, and " Swiss Movement", Les McCann and Eddie Harris live at the Montreux Jazz Festival with their anthem of alienation -"Compared to What".


Jery's favorite jazz tune was another Sutton staple at the time, "Land of Make Believe" which is a Chuck Mangione composition sung by Esther Satterfield. It is a symphonic blend of horns and strings that rise and falls in several crescendos with Satterfield's strong, clear voice leading the way. I liked it but found it a bit too polished and smooth - if you read this blog at all, you know by now my preferred sound is rougher and more primitive. I always wondered why she was so attracted to it. I think the song was an island of peace for her , a refuge from the emotional pain of stressful relationships that wore Jery down in the past , a chance to drift off into blissful fantasy if only for a few golden moments. We all need a song like that, a place where we can go to heal by ourselves.


Jery introduced me to Yusuf Lateef, especially "Nubian Lady", with its never ending flute solo and of course, from Swiss Movement, "Compared to What", with McCann's commanding piano riffs and Harris' swooping sax, not to mention the biting lyrics and the radical use of the word "goddamn". She still had a Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" album when we got married , along with Glen Miller and several other swing records, Roberta Flack, even Santana, but Jery stayed faithful to Chuck Mangione.


She's gone now. I'm not quite sure what I'll do with her records, but I'll never be able to listen to Chuck Mangione again - well, not for a while, anyway. I just hope Jery finally found the peace she was always seeking in the "Land of Make Believe."

West Side Struttin' with Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater

The first thing that amazed me about Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater is that he is 73. At an age when most people might settle for shuffleboard, Eddy is out on the road, still playing hard from the West Side of Chicago to the ends of the earth, having toured in places like Russia, Turkey, Romania and Brazil. The second thing is that Eddy is part Cherokee, which manifests itself in the Indian headdress Clearwater frequently sports onstage. But the most remarkable thing about The Chief is the energy and style that comes to life on his new Alligator CD West Side Strut.


Edward Harrington was born in Macon, MS in 1935, and moved to Birmingham, AL in 1948 where Eddy taught himself to play his axe left-handed and upside down as well as gigging with gospel groups that included The Blind Boys of Alabama. Eddy moved to Chicago in 1950, starting out as a dishwasher, but at first limited to playing behind groups in local churches before finally making a name for himself as "Guitar Eddy" in 1953. Seeing Chuck Berry perform in 1957 had a lasting influence on Eddy's music , welding Clearwater's solid blues credentials with a touch of raucous rock and roll. In 1958, Guitar Eddy was renamed "Clear Waters" for his debut 45 on his uncle's label - "Hill Billy Blues" - his name thought up by his manager as a word play on "Muddy Waters" . The name Clearwater stuck, and the Chief was born. Fortunately, Eddy explains why in "They Call Me The Chief", featuring his jagged fuzz tone "drums" in the beginning as he spins a tongue in cheek ballad (Allow me to introduce myself..) laced with chopping guitar chords and mystical lyrics.


The CD opens with "A Good Leavin' Alone", Eddy's solution to good loving gone bad, a mixture of rough vocals and hard driving guitar. Clearwater's rock and roll persona comes to life in a high-powered duet with Lonnie Brooks on "Too Old To Get Married" in which both veteran bluesmen trade sizzling leads, reminding each other that they're: "Too old to get married / too young to be buried" . Eddy takes a Muddy Waters tune - "Walkin' in the Park" - and injects his own particular brand of blues and funk, turning it into an anthem. . "Blue Over You" is a more familiar ballad with cutting edge guitar and driving harp. Lowell Fulsom's tune "Trouble, Trouble" gets a workout as well, the relentless guitar laying it on the line. And that's just to name a few.


Lucky for us Eddy is aging graciously, because he's still earning his living out on the road. The Chief will be at Chan's in Woonsocket,RI April 17-18, but you can listen to him now at http://www.alligator.com/ . See if you don't start doing the West Side Strut.

Blood Brothers (Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King): The Blues on Steroids

The first time I ever got up close and personal with Texas style electric blues was introducing Stevie Ray Vaughan at the Newport Jazz Festival in 1985. I already knew what he was capable of, but it was amazing to experience his blues power live, those blistering guitar runs and the razor sharp picking that had the crowd on its feet halfway through the first song. That tradition of muscular roadhouse guitar coupled with strong, soulful vocals comes alive thanks to the dynamic duo of Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King on their debut Alligator CD , Blood Brothers.


Smokin' Joe has been honing his craft since the age of 14, when his prowess on the guitar earned him steady gigs at Dallas night clubs as well as leading his own band. Kubek became a close friend of Stevie Ray's as well as rubbing elbows with blues legends like Albert King and B.B. King, even getting a rare opportunity one night to play B.B.'s famous guitar - Lucille. "When times got hard," Kubek recalls, " I always remembered how B.B. had given me some encouragement."


Smokin' Joe met up with Bnois King at a Dallas jam session in 1989. King hails from Delhi, LA. where he was introduced to the guitar by his high school music teacher. Bnois recalls his first meeting with the blues on "Coleman Avenue" one of the stand out tracks on Blood Brothers . King's wistful vocals evoke those early days, coupled with the realization that his life has been dedicated to the blues since then.


Kubek and King cut their first CD for Bullseye Blues in 1991, and started touring nationwide, eventually racking up more than 150 nights a year including gigs in Canada and Europe. "Don't Lose My Number" , another spine straightening cut from Brothers , is a testament to their status as "roads" scholars, combining Kubek's relentless, take-no-prisoners slide guitar with King's clear, commanding vocal. Both of these virtuoso players bring distinctive playing styles to their (almost) 20 year collaboration. As Smokin' Joe puts it: " I pull the blues out of him (Bnois) and he pulls the jazz out of me."


Blood Brothers features 13 original tracks including "My Dog's Still Walkin'" music with a message that Kubek and King can still rock the house, "Flamethrower", and "Freezer Burn" - just to name a few. It might be a good idea to pick up a copy because chances are pretty good that Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King won't be back in the studio anytime soon. They're out doing what they do best - moving from roadhouse to concert stage to any hall big enough to hold blues aficionados, proving every night that Texas blues power is alive and well and still kicking. For more info, go to http://www.alligator.com/

Backing Up Is Hard To Do

What got me thinking about the importance of back up singers was seeing The Pips on that TV car insurance commercial. There was some short-lived variety show I can vaguely recall that also featured The Pips without Gladys Knight, another example of the fact that the backing vocals are just as important as the lead.


Merry Clayton moved from the back to the front when it comes to her vocal parrying with Mick Jagger on "Gimme Shelter" from the Stones' "Let It Bleed ", but she had plenty of practice behind artists like Tom Jones, Joe Cocker and Carole King. No question that, without Clayton's powerful, soaring voice, "Gimme Shelter" would never have become a signature anthem for Mick, Keith et al. Merry Clayton has had a long and successful career, including a stint as a regular on TV's "Cagney and Lacey", but switched musically from rock to gospel.


Bonnie Bramlett actually got her start at age fifteen behind blues greats Albert King and Little Milton, among others, but made back-up history as the first white Ikette, transforming the Ike and Tina Revue. She came into her own with Delaney Bramlett, whom she married in 1967. My first connecion with them was "The Original Delaney and Bonnie " on the Electra label in 1969. The duo was propelled to super stardom after linking up with Eric Clapton and recording - appropriately enough - "On Tour With Eric Clapton" on the Atco label in 1970. This was one of my favorite records of that era, mainly because of its' butt-kicking live performances - the best being - in my opinion- the Little Richard covers as well as their "Tribute to Robert Johnson" -bursting with energy and virtuoso musicianship. Unfortunately,Delaney and Bonnie split in 1972. Although Bonnie Bramlett went on to appear as a character on "Roseanne" and in the Kevin Costner film "The Guardian" (2006) - not to mention appearing with Delaney in the enigmatic "Vanishing Point" (1971) - as well as still touring and recording today, she has never equaled the impact she had on the music business with the Clapton tour.


Native American Rita Coolidge first achieved fame as "The Delta Lady", immortalized by Leon Russell, an offshoot of her dynamic backing vocals behind Leon, Joe Cocker and Eric Clapton. She married Kris Kristofferson in 1973, going on to record several duet albums with Kristofferson which earned them Grammies in 1974 and 1976. Coolidge stayed consistently on the "charts " through the 1970s, hitting the Number Two slot in 1977 with her cover of Jackie Wilson's classic " (Your Love Has Lifted Me) Higher and Higher" . She returned to her Cherokee roots by helping to found a Native American trio in 1997, called "Walela" or "hummingbird" in Cherokee. Rita Coolidge's most recent album was a foray into jazz called "And So Is Love", released in 2006.


Of course, I don't mean to forget the talents of the Raylettes, the Famous Flames or the Ikettes among many,many others. Just remember when you're watching those back up singers onstage that they're always just a few steps away from the spotlights.

The Blame Game

Ironically, there are two anniversaries this month that involve BSRR - one being the fact that the blog began a year ago and the other that five years have passed since Rhode Island's Station nightclub fire.


I was heartened by last week's story in the Providence Journal announcing that WHJY FM's parent company - Clear Channel - is going to donate a substantial chunk of money to the Station survivors' fund. Mike Gonsalves was mentioned in the story as well, since he represented HJY at the event, introducing Great White onstage just minutes before fire swept through the crowded room, taking his life and the hopes and dreams of 99 others as well. If you read my post a year ago, then you'd remember that I first "hired" - maybe "exploited" is a better word - Mike as an intern back in the mid 80s, and was always impressed by his enthusiasm and good nature. If you read between the lines of the article, the implication is that WHJY and Mike were partially responsible for what happened. Unfortunately, despite the goodwill, the fire survivors have received almost nothing. With the exception of the acts set to do a benefit concert next week, the music industry has turned its collective back on the tragedy. I wonder if this has to do not only with the fact that people instinctively shy away from bad news, but also that so many bands and MCs - for that matter - can recall a time in their careers when they were trapped in a club in a situation that could have turned out the same way.


I remember at least two instances at clubs in Plainville, Mass and Providence in which the crowds were so massive - and messed up - that I never would have made it out alive without clawing my way through a drunken mob. The attendance at these venues certainly demonstrates the power of radio promotion. In that respect, I can see Clear Channel's rationale for tacitly acknowledging that WHJY was responsible for creating a successful event. Yet I got the impression that somehow Gonzo was responsible for not stopping the show when, in fact, he was just doing what we got paid to do - hype and introduce the band. It's a little like the Nuremburg defense - Mike Gonsalves was just following orders. The blame for what happened lies between the band and the club's owners, who admitted that they felt guilty but seemed to have avoided any real accountability for overcrowding the club and allowing pyrotechnics in a confined - and flammable - space.


I hope that justice really is served one of these years, but first and foremost, leave Mike Gonsalves out of the blame game and focus on taking care of the survivors. Their lives have been on hold for five torturous years with very little light at the end of the tunnel.

Friend of the Devil

Playing Robert Johnson's tune "Up Jumped The Devil" on my radio show last Sunday started me thinking about how often Satan turns up in the title and lyrics of traditional and popular music. Peruse the Internet and you'll find lists and lists of songs that mention Beelzebub. Of course the sheer volume of gospel, hymns and symphonies that celebrate God and the victory of good over evil far outweigh devil music, but the personification of Satan is more complex and multi-faceted than the typical portrayal of the divine. In Robert Johnson's case, contemporaries have claimed that Johnson fostered the image of his relationship with evil, perhaps to enhance his status, perhaps as a reaction to the Bible thumping religion of his day that strictly defined right and wrong.


The most sophisticated image of the devil - in my opinion - is the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy For The Devil", which combines a sardonic review of great evil moments in history with its cynical refrain: "Pleased to meet you/Hope you guess my name". In this case, the evil one morphs from hairy, goatfooted spirit of darkness to suave, sophisticated well-dressed charmer. This devil is the temptor that dwells in all of us, just waiting to be unleashed by mob mentality or incited by totalitarian brutality that eradicates individual identity, suppressing justice in the name of absolute power.


At the opposite end of the spectrum, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels' "Devil With a Blue Dress" seems harmless, a paen to that beautiful temptress that beckons to hapless males on the dance floor. Yet, when you look at the song a little more closely, it unconsciously evokes the image of Eve, the Biblical personification of the original sin that caused the human race to be evicted from the Garden of Eden. When Van Halen's David Lee Roth howls: " Runn-IN with the Dev-ILL", he is not only celebrating living on the edge - one misstep away from falling into the pit of flames - but also harkening back to Robert Johnson walking with Satan side by side. Charlie Daniels, Jerry Garcia, AC/DC and numerous others have incorporated the devil and "hell" into their lyrics.


So why is Beelzebub so popular? Is it like looking at a bad accident - so gruesome yet so compelling that you can't turn away? Is it because evil is so fascinating - so accessible - that we aspire to it ? Or is it simply an attempt to associate onself with a powerful, commonly-accepted image in the public's eye, so that a musician will seem truly bigger than life?