Growing Up With Tom Rush

I remember vividly sitting in the Mooncusser Coffee House on Circuit Avenue in Oak Bluffs at the clumsy, awkward age of 15, spending my diminutive salary from the Chilmark Community Center on flavored caffeine drinks and seeing Tom Rush. The set would invariably end with "Wasn't That A Mighty Storm?"  Imagine my surprise when I channel surfed past WGBH the other day and discovered Tom playing " Mighty Storm" just the way he did back in Oak Bluffs, sliding a knife up and down the guitar neck, belting out the chorus-" Wasn't that a MIGHT-EE storm in the mornin-now-" Except this time, he was backed by a string of musical luminaries including Jonathon Edwards and David Bromberg, not to mention several guitars electric and acoustic, violin, mandolin, bass,drums and two keyboards.Unbeknownst to yours truly, Tom is marking 50 years of being Tom Rush. He explained that "Storm" had been adapted by the legendary Eric Von Schmidt from a recording by the Reverend Sin-Killer Griffth on Easter of 1942 in a Texas prison.

"Panama Limited", the other show ending virtuoso slide tune that I remember  from the Circuit Avenue era, had to do with two lovers, the man waiting for the train with the woman, who keeps begging him not to part. Rush would create different sounds witn the strings, at one point imitating the sound of sticking your ear on the rail to hear the train coming, another duplicating the engine slowing as it pulled into the station. Bo Diddley's classic "Who Do You Love?" was yet another Mooncusser favorite brought back to life in the 2013 concert, Tom's sardonic vocal -"I walked 47 miles of BARBED WIRE - Got a brand new house on the ROAD SIDE - Made outta RATTLESNAKE HIDE!" - and precise picking complemented by a rocking back up band, blending into a few choruses of "Hey Bo Diddley" in the mix.

The emotional high point that evoked a plethora of memories was Rush's mostly solo versions of "No Regrets" - "Rockport Sunday" - taking me back to many long solo rides down endless interstates fleeing dead relationships. The emotional content of the fragile chords and understated vocal wasn't lost on the immediate audience as well. His playing has always been measured and just about flawless, so each languorous chord seemed to hang effortlessly only to be replaced by the next, a lonely yet somehow reassuring melody, Ever since I started writing about the song two days ago, I have been unable to get it out of my head. I remember when this music was my companion,  alone in my prep school garret, or driving around aimlessly during the twelve hour stretch of weekend that was typical of my alleged radio career, evoking pleasing images of afternoon sunlight glinting on blue fall ocean, of gentle but rocky North Shore coastline, of two pairs of footprints on a broad swath of sand.

I wouldn't be fair to Tom Rush if I didn't also mention "Joshua Gone Barbados" , his Caribbean flavored blues song that also dates from the Mooncusser days, the story of a labor organizer who abandons striking sugar cane workers on the island of Saint Vincent, with its' sad, sad refrain: "Joshua gone Barbados / Just like he don't know / People on the island / They got many a sad tale to tell." Another personal favorite of mine has always been "On the Road Again", no relation to the country anthem, but an understated road hymn to traveling musicians.

I realize now that there is very little continuity in my life, so hearing Tom Rush 50 years after the fact was strangely reassuring, providing my own kind of internal unity, linking past and present. His music may not be as well known as the Beatles or Bruce Springsteen, but Tom Rush's impact on the folk music scene was just as powerful and just as lasting.            

Tunes For Trayvon - Or - Where's the 21st Century Bob Dylan?

Yesterday I heard Steel Pulse' " Put Your Hoodies On" which says, among other things:
I'm go break it down-I don't understand it really - Imagine that was me -
That was walking with my hoodie
Another young life straight-Taken from a bullet - or should I say bully?
Trayvon attacked him? But how could he?
When all the evidence never added up fully...
Ain't no doubt in Jim Crow's South
Won't shut my mouth - its all about the hoodies"
It was written by singer David 'Dread' Hines as a "..plea for justice" who goes on to say:" We sensed the result but despite the outcome of the trial, the truth remains the truth and the ghost of justice will haunt this town of Sanford,Florida-forever."

I still remember the impact a young Bob Dylan had on me in the Sixties with " Oxford Town", documenting the state of Mississippi's staunch determination to keep James Meredith from getting a college degree, Bob pointing out:
Oxford town-Oxford town
Everybody's walkin' with their heads bowed down
Don't even know why we come
Better go back to where we come from
So where are the protest songs of today - the ones documenting the environmental mega-disasters like Exxon Valdez or BP in the Gulf, or bemoaning the fact that we are still in Afghanistan or complaining about the NSA surveillance program ? True, there are some gangsta rap songs that bitch about not having enough bling or a pimped out ride, but it seems the long standing American musical tradition of "social commentary" songs is dying out. The Dust Bowl laments and workingman's tunes of Woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger seem quaint compared to flash mobs and cyberattacks.

As far as tributes to Trayvon are concerned, Stevie Wonder says he'll no longer perform in any state with "Stand Your Ground" laws, Bruce Springsteen dedicated "American Skin" to Trayvon at a concert in Ireland, and both Beyonce and Jay Z met Trayvon's mother at a New York rally. The weirdest musical moment connected to the verdict happened in California when 73 year old Lester Chambers of the legendary Chambers Brothers was attacked onstage when he dedicated a song to Martin. According to eyewitnesses, a forty three year concert goer in Hayward, California jumped onstage , screaming "It's all your fault" before hitting Chambers.

Protest songs are not entirely dead; they will always be alive and well in coffeehouses and the small venues that still support folk music. I'm just waiting to see who is going to fill Bob Dylan's shoes    

The Real Ironman

Most of you have never heard of Michael Burks, who died a year ago in May. In his short 54 year long life, his debut album - called Make It Rain - was named one of the Top 200 greatest guitar recordings of all time by GuitarOne magazine. Burks also won  the Sonny Payne Award for Blues Excellence in 2006 from the Delta Cultural Center and Living Blues magazine 2004 Critics' Award for Best Guitarist, releasing three overpowering CDs on Alligator. He had developed a legend as a "roads" scholar, who wracked up thousands of miles driving his own van from gig to gig, pretty much a necessity if an artist wants to connect to the pockets of blues aficionados scattered across the country.

Burks comes to life on Tommy Castro's Legendary R & B Review with his overpowering 10 minute virtuoso cut "Voodoo Chile". His rough voice sails soulfully from one intense verse to the next, accompanied by the monstrous sound of his guitar, spinning off riffs that sound like Jimi Hendrix or Smokin' Joe Kubek at times. but really just showcase Burks' incredible range on the instrument. The song starts out slowly and innocently like most good blues tunes do, carefully building to a spine-straightening crescendo.

One article I read on the " prestigious Internet "  (Thank you for that phrase, Al Franken ! ) attributed a "blue collar" work ethic to Burks' relentless touring schedule, which made me think of Albert Collins, since his lyrics - like "The Lights Are On" or "Too Many Dirty Dishes" - reflect "workingman's" concerns, making me wonder if there really should be a new category called "blue collar blues". Check out "Make It Rain" or " I Smell Smoke" and - of course - "Ironman"  , and see what you think.

Like so many other performers, Michael Burks died on the job, collapsing at the Atlanta International Airport after touring Europe, suffering a heart attack. His spirit and his stinging guitar riffs - luckily - live on.     

George Jones: The King of Broken Hearts

My first "real" radio job was doing the news part time on W104 FM in scenic Prospect, Connecticut. The high point of my broadcast day was reading the news at noon right after the National Anthem, heavily ironic since I was going to graduate school at Kent State at the time. I received the princely sum of $25 per week to read the headlines and babysit the format, country and western hits past and present basically regurgitated from a vast library of reel to reel tapes by computer. Although we were well north of the Mason Dixon line and the Grand Old Opry, the station was Number 3 in the state, allegedly listened to by the Governor !

My initial disdain and resistance to the hillbilly ballads gradually broke down over time, being forced to listen eight hours a day weekdays, twelve on Saturdays. I would start anticipating when certain tunes would come up in rotation, like "Third Rate Romance" or "Dropkick Me Jesus Through The Goalposts of Life" or my personal favorite song title, "She's Thinking Single So I'm Drinking Doubles." It started to sink into my skull that the more mainstream artists that could "crossover" into adult contemporary - Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Crystal Gale - owed a big debt to the Nashville stalwarts - Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Buck Owens, Merle Haggard ,and the king and queen , George Jones and Tammy Wynette. 
Jones' voice can wring tears out of the most mournful "cheatin' heart" lyrics, the perfect match for the lonesome whine of a pedal steel guitar, evoking last call in a smoke filled, half darkened bar, weeping into your favorite adult beverage.

George Jones was born in Texas in 1931, and racked up 150 hit songs before he died in Nashville last month. He first sprung onto the charts with the country classic "White Lightnin'' in 1959, a tribute to his favorite drug of choice, alcohol and eventually cocaine, Jones' wild lifestyle earning him the nickname of "No Show" Jones. But his most renowned tunes are all about broken hearts - "She Thinks I Still Care" (1962) or the classic "He Stopped Loving Her Today" (1980) , the video depicting a well groomed and leisure-suited Jones resembling an earnest country preacher, his voice choking on the plaintive words.  When George married Tammy in 1969, they ascended to the top of country royalty, their stormy relationship ample fodder for the Nashville faithful, the marriage collapsing to the point where they promised "We're Gonna Hold On" in a 1973 duet, but two years later, the playlist had changed to "D-I-V-O-R-C-E". Besides Wynette, George sang with Merle Haggard, Randy Travis and Garth Brooks, performing right up to his death.

No matter what you think about country and western, some night when you're remembering a long lost love, George Jones is there when you need him, his tearful voice a reminder that you are not alone.

Back From The Dead For One Night Only

The ghoulish aspects of popular culture are evident in ventures like the latest Jimi Hendrix CD, People, Hell and Angels, which hit the charts this month. I remember some hushed rumors right after his death that hundreds of hours of Hendrix tapes existed that would be gradually released, but wouldn't that be the case with any electronic entertainer, since performances are now - and have been for the past 100 years or so -  recorded and archived. Twenty first century technology is also breathing new life into old content, with colorization and hi def and digitization

Think of the implications - vaults chock full of unreleased stuff from the Beatles to the Stones all the way back down to Elvis, Chuck Berry and Hank Williams. This is a boon for the recording industry - no troublesome artists to appease, no radio music directors to schmooze and cajole into "breaking" a new artist, no expensive tour schedule to expose new bands,just recycling the proven hitmakers and counting the profits. Although "live" shows are difficult with dead artists, holographic tours are a distinct possibility. It's "Rock n Roll Heaven" on earth - for example, you could create your own favorite cyber line-up - Elvis, The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd - and experience it in the comfort of your own audio/visual cave without having to go through a metal detector, find someone sitting in your seat which cost a c note and is still several thousand feet in elevation from the stage, or have someone you've never seen before simply pass out on you as I did during a memorable J Geils extravaganza at the Garden. 

The implications for popular culture are a bit different. Recycled TV series featuring long dead celebrities are coming back to life thanks to cable, computerized images of icons from John Wayne to Chris Farley still plug products from beyond the grave (Their relatives can collect fees up until 50 years after the celeb's demise, at least in California), and the recording industry strategically releases legendary artist trax. These are the true zombies of the mass media - forget The Walking Dead. What if so-called talent simply gets swallowed up by re-makes and re-runs digitally enhanced so you can re-experience the experience?

Naturally, the chances are that the music conglomerates will continue to invest in "brands" - the soulful female chanteuse, the wailing rocker, the straightforward hillbilly. Hopefully the day won't come when the cost of marketing and promotion  begins to outweigh investing in unproven artists, but the plethora of technological enhancements can seemingly bring back the digitally enhanced dead to compete with the living not just one night only but any night you choose.

Sugar Ray and Monster Mike on Saint Paddy's Day At The Narragansett Cafe

Rather than drown in morbid Irish drinking songs or stand in the rain watching some lackluster parade, I spent this past Saint Patrick's Day listening to solid, spine-straightening blues dished out by Sugar Ray Norcia, Monster Mike Welch and the Bluetones at the Narragansett Cafe in Jamestown. The atmosphere was laidback and inviting as always , and the music was superior.

The band opened up with Sonny Boy Williamson's "Help Me",the powerhouse combination of mega harp from Sugar Ray effortlessly meshing with the fluid riffs from Mike Welch's guitar , as well as immediately sparking activity on the dance floor which proliferated as the afternoon went on. I reflected on the fact that you don't always see people dance at blues concerts, so you have to give the Bluetones credit for delivering the right riffs and getting people moving at the same time. The other aspect of the gig that struck me has to do with taking the musicians for granted, being unaware that you are shucking and jiving a few feet away from some master players, a privilege in the world of overpriced arena rock and Jumbotrons.

The best thing about the Bluetones is that they respect the music while breathing new life into it.
Norcia was born in Stonington, Connecticut and started playing blues harp in high school. He officially formed the Bluetones after moving to Providence, and the band started paying its dues in the 1970s, doing regular gigs as well as backing up Big Walter Horton, Roosevelt Sykes, Big Mama Thornton and Big Joe Turner.  He has played with the blues best-known harpists - James Cotton, Billy Branch and Charlie Musselwhite on 1999's "Superharps". The Bluetones have changed lead guitarists repeatedly, but "Monster" Mike Welch has been part of the lineup for about 10 years, along with the rthymn section of Neil Gouvin and Mudcat Ward and pianist Anthony Geraci.

Norcia and Welch traded riffs throughout the show  the "Monster" taking over for a couple of tunes, his playing  alternately melodic and effortless,  alternately tough and penetrating , evoking a range of legendary guitarists from Chuck Berry to T Bone Walker to Mike Bloomfield. Speaking of T Bone, they nailed it with "Cold, Cold Feeling"  Welch doing an excellent job evoking the fluid jazzy sound of West Coast style blues.. Listening to the sound of Sugar Ray's blues harp  reflects the greats like Sonny Boy Williamson, and Little Walter - as well as his own originals, like "Too Many Rules and Regulations." The two shows were packed with a crowd pleasing mix of blues classics to Fifties dance tunes to rocking instrumentals showcasing the considerable talent of pianist Geraci, ending on a high note with Fats Domino's "Blueberry Hill".

Next time the Bluetones are in town, don't forget to check them out, especially if it's at the Narragansett Cafe. The music, the food, the atmosphere and the libations are guaranteed to make you a Sunday afternoon regular -  Saint Patrick's Day or not.  

Rizz, The Met, Any Given Sunday

I knew I was in the right place at the right time when my associate Sue and I walked into The Rizz playing "Shape I'm In" a couple of Sundays ago at The Met in Pawtucket  - it is one of the Band's best (and funkiest) tunes and Rizz turned it inside out. The crowd was demographically attuned to their playlist, as evidenced a few minutes later when they launched into "Fat Man in A Bathtub", leading to my favorite rock and roll lament about why did Lowell George have to die so soon ? The cavernous main room which arcs around the stage shook with spontaneous foot tapping accentuated by blistering solos from drummers Rick Couto and Gary St. Germain, accompanied by fluid riffs that would have made Little Feat proud - not to mention the anthem like quality when the band and the audience united a little later on "Willin'". Speaking of the Rizz lineup to set the record straight, besides Couto and St. Germain , it consists of Dave Tanury and Richard Herzog on guitars, Paul Sauvageau and Jerry Xavier on keyboards, Kenn Reynolds on bass, and the JoJo Horn Section. featuring Bob Weisberger and Klem.

Their repertoire ranged from classic rock to classic soul, belting out danceable versions of :"I Feel Good" and Smokey Robinson's signature hit " I Second That Emotion ", the musicians obviously enjoying themselves , launching into seamless jams that had most of the crowd swaying as well as chanting along with the tune. The Rizz paid homage to the full spectrum, from the Grateful Dead's "Casey Jones" and a rousing version of "Turn On Your Lovelight", to a frenetic version of Muddy Waters' "Got My Mojo Working" to one of The Band's only legitimate "hits" -  "Cripple Creek" - the list went on and on.

Local live music is tough - no studio to hide behind, no way of covering up mistakes (Speaking from experience !) - so  Rizz looms large as far as I'm concerned. Where else can you combine a laid back, lowkey good time with a superior musical mix and a warm environment ? The next time you see or hear that Rizz is going to be at The Met on a given Sunday, do yourself a favor and check it out -guaranteed to let the good times roll!!!