Champion Jack and Blind Owl - Born on The Fourth of July

I'm not sure if I 'd want to be born on a holiday, especially December 25, because you want people to pay attention to you but everyone's concentrating on candy or presents or in this particular case, fireworks. Fortunately for blues fans, July 4th happens to be the birthday of barrelhouse piano "professor" Champion Jack Dupree and Boston's own"Blind Owl" Al Wilson (Other famous Independence Day infants: Meyer Lansky, Steven Foster, P. T. Barnum and Calvin Coolidge).

Champion Jack was born in Louisiana. orphaned at the age of two, self taught pianist whose music encompassed the best foot stomping boogie woogie style. He had a wicked sense of humor as evidenced by my personal favorite - "Everybody's Blues" in which Champion Jack literally dedicates the blues to people in all walks of life from transportation workers - "These blues here/they're for the railroad men/they got a family on both ends/but don't want both ends to meet/you know what I mean" - to the hardcore unemployed - "These blues here/they're for them boys who don't do nothin'/I mean nothin'/sit around all day waitin' on that relief check/cuss the postman out if he ain't got it." During his  Depression era travels as piano player / cook, Dupree met boxer Joe Louis in Detriot, who convinced him to step in the ring; Champion Jack got his nickname by fighting 107 bouts, winning the Golden Gloves. He served as a cook in World War II, captured by the Japanese and held as a prisoner of war for two years. Dupree eventually settled in Germany, still making occasional forays back to the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival up until his death in 1992.

Blind Owl Al Wilson was said to be so nearsighted that he laid his guitar on top of the cake at a wedding reception, but that didn't stop his unwavering vision of the blues as the founder of Canned Heat, playing guitar, harmonica and writing most of their songs. Wilson grew up in the Boston metro area, honing his musicianship in the Cambridge coffeehouse circuit. He performed with Canned Heat at both Monterrey Pop in 1967 and Woodstock in 1969, which produced Wilson's biggest "hit" song - "Going Up Country". Blind Owl also wrote the band's other best known song "On The Road Again"; his slightly eerie falsetto can be heard on "Country" as well. Wilson sat in on sessions with Son House and John Lee Hooker, who proclaimed Al "...the greatest harmonica player ever." Despite his exceptional career, Al Wilson ended up joining the so-called "27 Club," dying of an overdose in Topanga Canyon at the age of 27. He remains a significant but cryptic figure in the annals of both 60s rock and traditional blues.

Happy birthday to the Champion and the Blind Owl, gone but no way forgotten.  

Talk Trax

It used to be that talk radio was just that - all talk at first, then gradually expanding to include mindless musical bridges between segments, with equally forgettable commercial “background”music But, these days, music is a key part of the message.

I experienced it first hand one late night trapped in my car with only AM radio for solace needing stimulation to stay alert, when the tinny speakers abruptly vibrated with a cascade of :”metal” chords, truly a rarity in the domain of talk. Rather than Metallica intoning: “Now I lay me down to sleep…”, the next voice was that of talkmeister Michael Savage - The Savage Nation, making me wonder if the intent was to imply that headbangers liked the show, or if it was just an attention getter. It turned out to be the tip of the proverbial iceberg.. After all, those music bites were relatively predictable heavy metal chords, destined to straighten the listener's spine just in time for the host's next diatribe, but the repertoire has widened considerably.

Rush Limbaugh seems to be addicted to the opening to "My City Was Gone" - since it plays ad nauseum throughout his show, making me wonder what Chrissie Hynde would think. He also likes to throw in the baby boomer anthem - Mick Jagger pointing out that "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" - which in Rush's case, probably applies to his view of the Obama administration. Tom Petty's "Learning to Fly" has cropped up repeatedly apparently in relation to ongoing political campaigns, while "Rock the Boat (Vote)" by the Hues Corporation is the prevalent theme on one prominent Boston station relative to those pesky mid terms.

The level of sophistication is getting more and more cutting edge. During a sports talk show last week, I heard the opening to Led Zep's "Travelling Riverside Blues", James Brown grunts, the extended Keith Richards riff from “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking?”, more Tom Petty riffs, as well as the opening to “It’s a Long Way…” by AC/DC, which always makes yours truly dance around the room playing air bagpipes.Not to be outdone - I've noticed - is the inclusion of rock and blues on TV programming. The History Channel is promoting IRT: Deadliest Roads with Aerosmith's "Living On The Edge", while another one of it's programs - Pawn Stars - has a soundtrack that is a steady stream of blues and rock instrumentals. I was surprised the other night to hear Howlin Wolf's "Smokestack Lightnihg" all over a car commercial - innovative, but it didn't give me the same chill down my spine as the use of Jimi Hendrix' "Voodoo Child" a couple of years back in a Nissan Xterra spot.

I predict the next musical invasion of the media will crop up during newscasts. For example, lead ins to homicide stories might use Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", arson stories with the Talking Heads' "Burning Down The House" or "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash, business news could be dramatized with "Money" by the O'Jays, and there would be numerous choices for the weather - "Rain" and "Good Day Sunshine" by the Beatles, and "Starry Starry Night" by Don Mclean.I've concluded that there's only one viable lead in to the nightly news - "Ball of Confusion" by the Temptations..

Smokin' Joe Kubek and Bnois King Live in Woonsocket:Spring Rolls and The Blues

At one point during their blistering set  Saturday night (5/5/12) at Chan's in scenic downtown Woonsocket, Bnois King mentiioned that he and Smokin Joe Kubek had been playing together for 23 years, which probably explains why the two guitarists effortlessly trade off leads, delivering a potpurri of styles sounding at times like Jimi Hendrix, Bo Diddley, BB King, Chuck Berry and/or Eric Clapton. The "Blood Brothers" (The title of their first Alligator CD) always serve up a heaping plate of down home roadhouse blues with a dash of jazz, funk and exceptional slide guitar. Although it always seems a bit incongruous to go to a blues show in a Chinese restaurant, Chan's has become an outpost for some of America's best blues and jazz musicians on the road between New York and Boston. After the years I spent sitting in the mud at various outdoor concerts or fighting for standing room at a crowded bar, the idea of comfortably sitting at a table eating, drinking and listening has a lot of appeal. Predictably, the crowd is a bit older, contentedly munching away on Chinese comfort food, but reverting to a mini-arena audience as soon as Smokin Joe and Bnois took the stage. John Chan provided his usual efficient but affectionate intro, and the band took over.

Both Kubek and King are fully capable of fronting their own bands which is evidenced by the constant interplay between the two, pumping up "My Dogs Still Walkin'" with seamless breaks, then launching into a rollicking Chuck Berry style romp for "My Heart's In Texas" (Title track from their live CD). Their trademark brand of tongue in cheek social commentary is the focus of "Payday in America" (From "Have Blues, Will Travel") but Smokin Joe managed to squeeze in some fluid slide breaks that had the audience clapping frantically, a motif that reverberated throughout the set every time one of them finished a particularly impressive riff. "Texas Cadillac" matched a stinging psychedelic lead evoking Jimi Hendrix with a sly vocal and a driving beat, followed by another heavy duty crowd pleaser, "Burnin' To The Ground".

By the time I had polished off my spring rolls and started to eviscerate the chicken wings, I noticed that the place was full. The band switched gears slightly with "I Saw It Coming," Bnois King's wistful vocal underscored by the haunting refrain, before both guitarists went into a long slow blues punctuated by Bnois' nimble runs up and down the neck , trading leads with Smokin Joe's molasses slow slide much to the audience's delight. Their version of "Two Trains Running" basically turned the song inside out, at least compared to the Paul Butterfield version I'm familiar with, segueing into a dramatic build up that had the crowd wanting more. Smokin Joe and Bnois King always deliver, and their one night stand at Chan's was no exception. 

  

Dick and Don - The Eternal Veejays

The popular music biz in 2012 sufferred a major loss with the passing of entrepreneur entertainers Dick Clark and Don Cornelius. Although their names don't exactly resonate with the rap/hiphop/alternative/whatever audience, there is no question that the recording industry would never have reached its' zenith without their help as the frontmen of music television.

Dick Clark always looked like he was having a great time, right up to his final "Rockin New Years Eve" appearances when you could tell he was struggling. I never made fun of him even then - I admired him for having the courage to be himself. That's all Dick Clark ever did , which is probably why so many American TV households felt comfortable letting him into their homes in the 50s and 60s. He was clean cut, polite, respectful and constantly promoting clean cut and respectful white and black artists, who played to clean cut and respectful black and white teenaged couples. Clark was so earnest and so acceptable, a cheerleader who glossed over the paranoia about race music and the "evils" of rock and roll to attract a wider audience and sell more records. The amazing thing was that he stayed that way throughout his long career as if dipped in Teflon around 1959, to the extent that the "world's oldest living teenager" line began to seem like a description of a pop music vampire. Bottom line: he sold the music earnestly and tirelessly through the original music video: "American Bandstand."

Don Cornelius I recall most clearly from being in the Midwestern college I attended , catching "Soul Train" on the common room TV in my freshman dorm. His big voice and bigger hair set the stage for true Motown royalty, the early days of Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder, Mary Wells, Junior Walker, even Aretha Franklin. The music was hipper and funkier than "Bandstand", but the packaging was eerily similar - decent cleancut kids dancing to decent clean cut artists - designed to be culturally accessible to the average American living room. Unfortunately, my image of Don Cornelius is more or less frozen in that time and place, which may very well be a good thing based on some of the stories I read after his death. It was through his channeling soul music into the mainstream that I developed a lifelong appreciation for it.

Dick Clark and Don Cornelius played their maestro emcee roles extremely well, effortlessly promoting a new generation of black and white performers to an awakening and growing audience that embraced civil rights, no longer threatened by the spectre of "race" music. They were the original "promo" guys - they may not have witnessed the birth of rock and roll but they certainly helped guide it through its formative years.       

Will The Real Robert Johnson Please Stand Up?

In a manner of speaking, Robert Johnson was the Ozzy Osborne of Delta Blues singers, claiming to be in league with the Devil. Musicologists and blues historians like Ted Gioia ( Read his excellent book “Delta Blues: The Life and Times of the Mississippi Masters Who Revolutionized American Music”) all agree on that aspect of Johnson’s brief existence but not too much else.

The facts of his life are sparse: born in Hazleton, Mississippi in May, 1911; married twice, cultivating women in every town Johnson played in, finally poisoned to death - supposedly - by drinking a bottle of whiskey laced with strychnine given to him by a revenge-minded club owner at the age of 27 near Greenwood, Mississippi. Gioia’s Delta Blues devotes a whole chapter to Johnson, documenting the stories passed down about his agonizing death, howling with pain as he slowly died from the strychnine on the floor of a fleabag rooming house. Nobody really knows where he was buried - there are three different markers for Johnson.

The myth of Robert Johnson revolves around a story that he cultivated, at least according to his fellow musician Johnny Shines. Johnson went to a crossroads at midnight to meet up with the devil, and handed his guitar over to Satan. The devil tuned it so Robert could play anything he wanted and then handed it back to Johnson in exchange for his soul. It is known that he started playing the guitar at the tender age of three and was also proficient on the harmonica.

Whether he took music lessons from Beezlebub or not,there is no question in my mind that Robert Johnson coaxed sounds out of his Gibson guitar that still resonate strongly from the grainy recordings he made in 1936 and 1937 at two different sessions in a Texas hotel. His biggest "hit" - Terraplane Blues" - sold about 5,000 copies. His ability to play rthymn and melody at the same time, coupled with sliding up and down the neck, create a unique, spellbinding sound, combining with Johnson's mournful wail to define Delta blues, at least for a generation of 60s and 70s musicians. His lyrics - as in "Stones in My Passway" - "Where did you stay last night? / Your hair's all messed up and you ain't talkin' right" - or "Come On In My Kitchen" - "The woman I love took her from my best friend/Some joker got lucky, stole her back again" - are just a few of the verses that have been incorporated into countless blues tunes.

Some blues purists contend that Robert Johnson would have faded into obscurity were it not for English musicians like Eric Clapton and Keith Richards discovering his 78s. Whoever – or whatever – he was, Robert Johnson’s unique musical style always casts a spell on you – just listen to “Hellhound On My Trail” or “Me and The Devil” and you’ll see what I mean.

Bruce Burnside's For All The World To See

The first thing that struck me when I listened to Bruce Burnside's latest offering, For All The World To See (Copyright 2012, Tortoise Humor Music) is his ability to draw on diverse musical sources that are woven into his songs, a hint of the blues,  a touch of country, respect for history and a commitment to respecting musical traditions. The lonely whine of  slide guitar , the distinctive echo of the dobro, and the plaintive sound of the lap steel  are just three of the  instruments showcased on this collection of 15 songs recorded from 2008-2011. His attention to detail is obvious in his fluid musicianship as well as his melodic voice and sensitive lyrics. Bruce plays mandola, mandolin, mando-cello,banjo, piccolo banjo and - of course - guitar on the different cuts.  I should admit that I have a biased opinion about his picking; I can still remember how well Bruce played "Mole's Moan" when we were 17.

He has managed to build his music with integrity and creative control, as well as working with a core of talented musicians, choosing not to compromise his creative vision by founding his own label - Tortoise Humor Recordings. As Bruce puts it in the CD notes: "With no enforced deadlines, timeliness, market statistics or progress reports, THR encourages persistence and patience. It's a company that believes the long, slow road to anywhere is more enlightening than the express lane to downtown." By way of illustration, just think about how many musicians crash and burn in the express lane done in by their quest to make it big 'downtown'. 

Bruce has frequently documented history through his music incorporating authentic instruments and lyrics, which is the case in "The Year of 1849" - an ironic tale of gold rush fever - and "Pullin' This Flatboat" , a paean to the "boatmen" who once provided the only transportation across America's rivers. 'Road Trip" pays homage to the legend of Robert Johnson, the lyrics suggesting the mythical confrontation between the cryptic Delta bluesman and the Devil that Johnson claimed took place at the "crossroads," although the song really refers to ethics, with the chorus pointing out that:"...At the crossroads, we should follow what we know is right. What we know is right." The instrumental "Tears of the Pueblo" is a sad tribute to the past, inspired by an experience in Santa Fe, and "Heard the Call" references the Old Testament stories of Elijah, Jonah and Moses .

Bruce describes the title tune - "For All The World To See" - as "..a declaration of love from time ever lasting," the instruments and vocals combining in a plaintive but positive affirmation that"...A love can light the darkest night..." His unique sense of humor comes through on "My Own Way" and "Bring Down The Lights." Bruce's latest musical offering is sprinkled with instrumentals that show off the talented players he works with - "Up This Mountain", "Troll Under The Bridge," "Underwater," and "The Wishing Well."

"For All the World To See" is a testament to Bruce Burnside's considerable ability and talent, available 24/7 at http://www.bruceburnside.com/. Bruce iinformally dedicates the collection to his grandsons Pryor and Silas, pointing out that: "...It is my prayer that over the next thirty or so years these songs will answer some of their questions and germinate others."   



  

Soul Survivors

As a rule, I'm not fond of February. It's short, cold and generally nasty, even though the month covers Valentine's Day, President's Day and public school vacations across the country. Consequently, I wasn't surprised to read that Whitney Houston died suddenly and unexpectedly, or that Don Cornelius committed suicide - the news just seems to fit in with all the other negative aspects of the month.

I first watched "Soul Train" when I was going to college in Ohio. I got into radio during my freshman year when a friend challenged me to do a show, and ended up doing afternoon drive on WOBC, the Oberlin College station. Not only did I play mostly black music - Curtis Mayfield, Aretha Franklin, The Temptations and The Four Tops, just to name a few - but my deejay patter was nuanced, loaded with the disposable "lines" I had listened to as a kid, coming out of the New York stations - "The rest of the best", "the tops of the pops," "the wax you can't afford to miss!" -for example - or - "Guaranteed to put more soul in your stroll - glide in your stride - and dip in your hip!" When I saw a young Aretha , Wilson Pickett or Motown act wallowing in soul on the show, it just enhanced my belief that it was the funkiest sound to be found even if I was committing cultural fraud by trying to imitate a black person on the radio. Don Cornelius basically took American Bandstand and created a soul version, complete with himself as the Dick Clark persona, the teen aged dancers for eye candy and the performers, opening up "soul" music to the white audience by using a format they already felt comfortable with. Imitation - whether it be my first attempt at radio or the parallels between "Train"and "Bandstand" - is still the sincerest form of flattery.

Whitney Houston deserved to live a lot longer. It's unfortunate that her audience is left with conflicting images - the Whitney who turns the national anthem into a signature once in a lifetime, never to  be equaled showstopper, and the Whitney who cringes as Bobby Brown curses her via cell phone on their "reality" show. Their tumultuous relationship played itself out to the final act with Bobby leaving the funeral service because he didn't want to make a scene. Although redundant, it needs to be repeated - judge the artist by his/her music, by their contribution to the arts, not their personal life. As far as I know, when we consider Picasso or Van Gogh or Hemingway, we don't dwell on how much they drank or whether they screwed up their relationships, so why is it that Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston are measured differently ? My final impression of the funeral was the legendary Clive Davis actually speaking - which he rarely does - about Whitney's divine talent. Coming from the man who discovered and nurtured artists like Santana, Janis Joplin and Earth,Wind & Fire, it was the best eulogy the music industry could muster.