Click On To Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Beausoliel Doing "Varise".
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
La Danse De La Vie, BeauSoliel, Rhino Records, 1993
Elsewhere in this space I have gone on and on about my love affair with the blues, my admiration for the singers of the folk revival of the 1960’s and my appreciation for the 1950’s pioneers of rock ‘n’ roll. I admit to a late interest in Cajun music sparked, a little at least, by the Dennis Quiad New Orleans-centered film “The Big Easy” from the 1990’s. This modern Cajun-oriented group BeauSoliel became better known and caught my attention in the wake of that interest in things Cajun. The group, as far as I know, had as part of its mission to make this previously somewhat insulated music more accessible to non-Cajun and non-patois speaking audiences. They achieved some success in this endeavor. Witness here some nice fiddle work on the title track “La Danse de la Vie”, “Quelle Belle Vie” and “ La Fille de Quatorze Ans”. Moreover, this is very danceable music. Feet up.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
*Down In The Bayous In Cajun Country- “The French Blues”, "Acadian Folk Songs"
Click On Title To Link To Arhoolie Records Website, An Excellent Place To Find Rare Cajun Music Items.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Folksongs of The Louisiana Acadians, various artists, Arhoolie Records, 1994
The roots of Cajun music go back a long way, probably as far back as the time of the expulsion of the Acadians from Nova Scotia and the forced trek to Louisiana made famous by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “Evangeline”. This CD tracks those origins and brings the story up to modern times. As always with an Arhoolie product there are copious liner notes to help fill in the story. Unlike other Cajun CDs I have reviewed in this space like those of the Hackberry Ramblers, this one has many early Acadia pieces that are untouched, or barely touched, by other musical influences. These tunes are similar in simplicity to the music of other isolated regions of America like the Appalachian Mountains. Fiddle, a bass, maybe a drum but some just have that pure, lonesome fiddle. Feast on “Mes Souliers Sont Rouges”, “Contredanse Francaise”, ‘Y Avait Boitine Boiteuse”, “Aux Natchitoches” and “Contredanse De Mamou” in the middle of this CD to see what I mean.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Folksongs of The Louisiana Acadians, various artists, Arhoolie Records, 1994
The roots of Cajun music go back a long way, probably as far back as the time of the expulsion of the Acadians from Nova Scotia and the forced trek to Louisiana made famous by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “Evangeline”. This CD tracks those origins and brings the story up to modern times. As always with an Arhoolie product there are copious liner notes to help fill in the story. Unlike other Cajun CDs I have reviewed in this space like those of the Hackberry Ramblers, this one has many early Acadia pieces that are untouched, or barely touched, by other musical influences. These tunes are similar in simplicity to the music of other isolated regions of America like the Appalachian Mountains. Fiddle, a bass, maybe a drum but some just have that pure, lonesome fiddle. Feast on “Mes Souliers Sont Rouges”, “Contredanse Francaise”, ‘Y Avait Boitine Boiteuse”, “Aux Natchitoches” and “Contredanse De Mamou” in the middle of this CD to see what I mean.
*Down In The Bayous In Cajun Country- “The French Blues”, "Abbeville Breakdown"
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Clifton Chenier Doing His Thing On The Accordion.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Cajun Volume 1; Abbeville Breakdown 1929-1939, CBS Records, 1990
Certain towns in southwest Louisiana evoke the spirit of Cajun music more than others. I have mentioned elsewhere the importance of Lake Charles and Lafayette. Abbeville is another, especially in the period of the music under review. If a group like accordionist Nathan Abshire and the Pine Grove Boys evoke a certain primitive kind of Cajun sound driven by that old accordion and fiddler Luderin Darbone’s Hackberry Ramblers reflect a mix of Cajun with other influences then the music here is evocative of the deeper Acadian roots of the music. Of course, as in any language, the themes of love, lost love and longing for love get a full workout. As proof listen to “Aimer Et Perdre” (“To Love And Lose”), “Comme Moi Ma Saine” (“I Wonder If You Feel The Way I Do”), Quel Espoire” (“What’s The Use”) and “Apres Jengles A Toi” (“Thinking Of You”). Many of the other songs are along this same vein or are just good old flat out dancing tunes.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Cajun Volume 1; Abbeville Breakdown 1929-1939, CBS Records, 1990
Certain towns in southwest Louisiana evoke the spirit of Cajun music more than others. I have mentioned elsewhere the importance of Lake Charles and Lafayette. Abbeville is another, especially in the period of the music under review. If a group like accordionist Nathan Abshire and the Pine Grove Boys evoke a certain primitive kind of Cajun sound driven by that old accordion and fiddler Luderin Darbone’s Hackberry Ramblers reflect a mix of Cajun with other influences then the music here is evocative of the deeper Acadian roots of the music. Of course, as in any language, the themes of love, lost love and longing for love get a full workout. As proof listen to “Aimer Et Perdre” (“To Love And Lose”), “Comme Moi Ma Saine” (“I Wonder If You Feel The Way I Do”), Quel Espoire” (“What’s The Use”) and “Apres Jengles A Toi” (“Thinking Of You”). Many of the other songs are along this same vein or are just good old flat out dancing tunes.
*Down In The Bayous In Cajun Country- “The French Blues”, Once Again, The Hackberry Ramblers
Click On Title To Link To Hackberry Ramblers Website.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Cajun Boogie: The Hackberry Ramblers, The Hackberry Ramblers, Flying Fish Records, 1993
Back in the early days of Cajun music there was something of a split between the “purists” who insisted that the fiddle was the central driving force behind the music and those who argued that the accordion was that force. I take my stand with those who argue for the accordion but if you want a very strong argument for the fiddle then your stop is at old time player Luderin Darbone’s Hackberry Ramblers. This group was practically a Cajun institution at the Saturday barns dances and other venues in the old days. The composition of the group, and its popularity, changed over time but this was always easy material to listen to. And to get up to dance to, as well. Listen to a virtual title track Cajun anthem “Cajun Boogie’, “Grand Texas”, “Crowley Waltz”, “Turtle Tail” and the Mississippi Sheiks classic “Sitting On Top Of The World” if you want to know the place where Cajun intersected Western Swing and a million other influences that this band incorporated in its repertoire from its inception in 1933.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Cajun Boogie: The Hackberry Ramblers, The Hackberry Ramblers, Flying Fish Records, 1993
Back in the early days of Cajun music there was something of a split between the “purists” who insisted that the fiddle was the central driving force behind the music and those who argued that the accordion was that force. I take my stand with those who argue for the accordion but if you want a very strong argument for the fiddle then your stop is at old time player Luderin Darbone’s Hackberry Ramblers. This group was practically a Cajun institution at the Saturday barns dances and other venues in the old days. The composition of the group, and its popularity, changed over time but this was always easy material to listen to. And to get up to dance to, as well. Listen to a virtual title track Cajun anthem “Cajun Boogie’, “Grand Texas”, “Crowley Waltz”, “Turtle Tail” and the Mississippi Sheiks classic “Sitting On Top Of The World” if you want to know the place where Cajun intersected Western Swing and a million other influences that this band incorporated in its repertoire from its inception in 1933.
*Down In The Bayous In Cajun Country- “The French Blues”, The Hackberry Ramblers
Click On Title To Link To Hackberry Ramblers Website.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
“Jolie Blonde”: The Hackberry Ramblers, The Hackberry Ramblers, Arhoolie Records, 1993
Back in the early days of Cajun music there was something of a split between the “purists” who insisted that the fiddle was the central driving force behind the music and those who argued that the accordion was that force. I take my stand with those who argue for the accordion but if you want a very strong argument for the fiddle then your stop is at old time player Luderin Darbone’s Hackberry Ramblers. This group was practically a Cajun institution at the Saturday barns dances and other venues in the old days. The composition of the group, and its popularity, changed over time by this was always easy material to listen to. And to get up to dance to, as well. Listen to the virtual title track Cajun anthem “Jolie Blonde”, “Grand Texas”, “Colinda”, “Fais Pas” and “Louisiana Waltz” if you want to know the place where Cajun intersected Western Swing and a million other influences that this band incorporated in its repertoire from its inception in 1933.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
“Jolie Blonde”: The Hackberry Ramblers, The Hackberry Ramblers, Arhoolie Records, 1993
Back in the early days of Cajun music there was something of a split between the “purists” who insisted that the fiddle was the central driving force behind the music and those who argued that the accordion was that force. I take my stand with those who argue for the accordion but if you want a very strong argument for the fiddle then your stop is at old time player Luderin Darbone’s Hackberry Ramblers. This group was practically a Cajun institution at the Saturday barns dances and other venues in the old days. The composition of the group, and its popularity, changed over time by this was always easy material to listen to. And to get up to dance to, as well. Listen to the virtual title track Cajun anthem “Jolie Blonde”, “Grand Texas”, “Colinda”, “Fais Pas” and “Louisiana Waltz” if you want to know the place where Cajun intersected Western Swing and a million other influences that this band incorporated in its repertoire from its inception in 1933.
*Down In The Bayous In Cajun Country- “The French Blues”, Once Again, Nathan Abshire
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Nathan Abshire And Company Doing "Pine Grove Blues".
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
The Cajun Legend; The Best Of Nathan Abshire, Nathan Abshire and his Pine Grove Boys, Swallow Records, 1991
If you, like me, need to have your Cajun music with accordion then your first stop is to this band under review, Nathan Abshire and his Pine Grove Boys. For pure Saturday night party time down in Cajun country the band with Abshire leading the way with his accordion can’t be beat. Listen up to “Pine Grove Blues” “Musician's Life”, “Sur le Courtableu”, “Belisaire Waltz”, “French Blues” and “Valse de Bayou Teche”. Nice.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
The Cajun Legend; The Best Of Nathan Abshire, Nathan Abshire and his Pine Grove Boys, Swallow Records, 1991
If you, like me, need to have your Cajun music with accordion then your first stop is to this band under review, Nathan Abshire and his Pine Grove Boys. For pure Saturday night party time down in Cajun country the band with Abshire leading the way with his accordion can’t be beat. Listen up to “Pine Grove Blues” “Musician's Life”, “Sur le Courtableu”, “Belisaire Waltz”, “French Blues” and “Valse de Bayou Teche”. Nice.
*Down In The Bayous In Cajun Country- “The French Blues”- Nathan Abshire
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Nathan Abshire Doing "French Blues".
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
“French Blues”, Nathan Abshire And His Pine Grove Boys, Arhoolie Records, 1993
If you, like me, need to have your Cajun music with accordion then your first stop is to this band under review, Nathan Abshire and his Pine Grove Boys. For pure Saturday night party time down in Cajun country the band with Abshire leading the way with his accordion can’t be beat. Listen up to “Pine Grove Blues”, the classic title track “French Blues, “The New Jolie Blon”, “Mama Rosin” and a super “Cannon Ball Special”
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know, at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
“French Blues”, Nathan Abshire And His Pine Grove Boys, Arhoolie Records, 1993
If you, like me, need to have your Cajun music with accordion then your first stop is to this band under review, Nathan Abshire and his Pine Grove Boys. For pure Saturday night party time down in Cajun country the band with Abshire leading the way with his accordion can’t be beat. Listen up to “Pine Grove Blues”, the classic title track “French Blues, “The New Jolie Blon”, “Mama Rosin” and a super “Cannon Ball Special”
*Down In The Bayous In Cajun Country- “The French Blues”- Waylon Thibodeaux
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Waylon Thibodeaux.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Best Of Cajun; The Traditional Songs Featuring Waylon Thibodeaux, Waylon Thibodeaux and various artists, Mardi Gras Records,
I have pointed out above the good old boy Saturday night barn dance tradition in Cajun country. The central instrument is many times the fiddle when there is no accordion around. Waylon Thibodeaux and his masterful fiddle are featured here on some Cajun classics. I note the virtual Cajun anthem “Jolie Blonde”, “Lake Charles Two Step” (that will get you up and dancing) and another familiar Cajun classic “Grand Mamou”
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Best Of Cajun; The Traditional Songs Featuring Waylon Thibodeaux, Waylon Thibodeaux and various artists, Mardi Gras Records,
I have pointed out above the good old boy Saturday night barn dance tradition in Cajun country. The central instrument is many times the fiddle when there is no accordion around. Waylon Thibodeaux and his masterful fiddle are featured here on some Cajun classics. I note the virtual Cajun anthem “Jolie Blonde”, “Lake Charles Two Step” (that will get you up and dancing) and another familiar Cajun classic “Grand Mamou”
*Down In The Bayous In Cajun Country- “The French Blues”-"Cajun Music-The Essential Collection"
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Jo-El Sonnier, Cajun Accordionist.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Cajun Music: The Essential Collection, various artists, Rounder Heritage Series, Rounder Records, 2002
Rounder Records is almost invariably a great source for virtually every form of American roots music and for those who are unfamiliar with Cajun music this is your primer. Moreover Rounder, as usual, provides copious liner notes to give detailed information about the Cajun traditions, the various influences and the genesis of the performers. There are pure instrumentals featuring the ubiquitous fiddle, Creole classics, accordion masterpieces and French patois vocals. I note especially Jo-El Sonnier’s “Pine Grove Blues”, and “Evangeline Express”, Zachary Richard’s virtual Cajun anthem “Jolie blon” and the modern Cajun band BeauSoliel on “Madame Bozo”.
CD REVIEW
The introductory paragraphs in this review have been used to review other Cajun CDs in this space.
Well, it is about time that I started to review some of the work of the good old boys and girls from the bayous down in Cajun country. Places like Lafayette and Lake Charles evoke memories of time and place in Cajun musical history. You know at the edges of the places where the likes of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis learned their crafts. And places where all kinds of mixes of music and races blended to form unique sounds all their own. Accordions, washboards, fiddles, guitars and what ever came to hand on those whiskey-drenched Saturday nights.
And on those nights come names like Clifton Chenier and Booboo Chavis that form the black-influenced strand of the music. The Hackberry Ramblers and the likes of Waylon Thibodeaux form another, the good old white boys. French Acadian exiles, English “swamp foxes” of undetermined origin, black escaped slaves, “poor white trash”- it is all there mixed in one form or another. For the most part there were no serious conscious attempts to mix the strands but how could the intermixing influences be avoided in that small isolated area of southwest Louisiana. And all under the umbrella of what I call the “French blues”. Get your dancing slippers on.
Cajun Music: The Essential Collection, various artists, Rounder Heritage Series, Rounder Records, 2002
Rounder Records is almost invariably a great source for virtually every form of American roots music and for those who are unfamiliar with Cajun music this is your primer. Moreover Rounder, as usual, provides copious liner notes to give detailed information about the Cajun traditions, the various influences and the genesis of the performers. There are pure instrumentals featuring the ubiquitous fiddle, Creole classics, accordion masterpieces and French patois vocals. I note especially Jo-El Sonnier’s “Pine Grove Blues”, and “Evangeline Express”, Zachary Richard’s virtual Cajun anthem “Jolie blon” and the modern Cajun band BeauSoliel on “Madame Bozo”.
Friday, June 12, 2009
*Keeping The Historical Memories Alive- Playwright August Wilson’s “The Piano Lesson”
Click On Title To Link To August Wilson Homepage.
Book Review
The Piano Lesson, 1936, August Wilson, Theatre Communications Group, New York, 2007
Okay, blame it on the recently departed Studs Terkel and his damn interview books. I had just been reading his "The Spectator", a compilation of some of his interviews of various authors, actors and other celebrities from his long-running Chicago radio program when I came across an interview that he had with the playwright under review here, August Wilson. Of course, that interview dealt with things near and dear to their hearts on the cultural front and mine as well. Our mutual love of the blues, our concerns about the history and fate of black people and the other oppressed of capitalist society and our need to express ourselves politically in the best way we can. For Studs it was the incessant interviews, for me it is incessant political activity and for the late August Wilson it was his incessant devotion to his century cycle of ten plays that covered a range of black experiences over the 20th century.
Strangely, although I was familiar with the name of the playwright August Wilson and was aware that he had produced a number of plays that were performed at a college-sponsored repertory theater here in Boston I had not seen or read his plays prior to reading the Terkel interview. Naturally when I read there that one of the plays being discussed was entitled "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" about the legendary female blues singer from the 1920's I ran out to get a copy of the play. That play has been reviewed elsewhere in this space but as is my habit when I read an author who "speaks" to me I grab everything I can by him or her to see where they are going with the work. This is doubly true in the case of Brother Wilson as his work is purposefully structured as an integrated cycle, and as an intensive dramatic look at the black historical experience of the 20th century that has driven a lot of my own above-mentioned political activism.
By the time that this review appears I will have already reviewed five of the ten plays in August Wilson’s Century cycle. On the first five I believe that I ran out of fulsome praise for his work and particularly for his tightly woven story and dialogue. Rather than keep following that path for the next five plays I would prefer to concentrate on some of the dialogue that makes Brother Wilson’s work so compelling. For those who want to peek at my general observations you can look at my review of “Gem Of The Ocean” (the first play chronologically in the cycle).
In all previously reviewed plays I noticed some piece of dialogue that seemed to me to sum up the essence of the play. Sometimes that is done by the lead character as was the case with Troy Maxton in “Fences” when he (correctly) stated that there should been “no too early” in regard to the possibilities of black achievement and prospects in America. Other times it is by a secondary character in the form of some handed down black folk wisdom as means to survive in racially-hardened America. In “The Piano Lesson” no one phrase sticks out as much as the story surrounding the history of the piano, the carvings engraved in it and the historical memories of slave, slave-owner and the scars of slavery’s harm on black life in the 1930’s (and the 2000’s).
The struggle between brother and sister, Boy Willie and Berneice, over this family heirloom is more than just an exercise in the productive use of the unused piano but points to the importance of trying to preserve memory in a world that does not cherish such notions. This is not the best play in the Wilson cycle by a long shot but, as always, there is plenty of food for thought for anyone who has confronted this issue. Slavery times, and Jim Crow times, and de facto segregation times and, unfortunately, now in so-called “post-racial” times demand the preservation of such memory. The ill-fated King Hedleys, I and II, and Troy Maxtons of the world (characters in other Wilson plays in this cycle) deserve no less. Once again, kudos Brother Wilson.
Book Review
The Piano Lesson, 1936, August Wilson, Theatre Communications Group, New York, 2007
Okay, blame it on the recently departed Studs Terkel and his damn interview books. I had just been reading his "The Spectator", a compilation of some of his interviews of various authors, actors and other celebrities from his long-running Chicago radio program when I came across an interview that he had with the playwright under review here, August Wilson. Of course, that interview dealt with things near and dear to their hearts on the cultural front and mine as well. Our mutual love of the blues, our concerns about the history and fate of black people and the other oppressed of capitalist society and our need to express ourselves politically in the best way we can. For Studs it was the incessant interviews, for me it is incessant political activity and for the late August Wilson it was his incessant devotion to his century cycle of ten plays that covered a range of black experiences over the 20th century.
Strangely, although I was familiar with the name of the playwright August Wilson and was aware that he had produced a number of plays that were performed at a college-sponsored repertory theater here in Boston I had not seen or read his plays prior to reading the Terkel interview. Naturally when I read there that one of the plays being discussed was entitled "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" about the legendary female blues singer from the 1920's I ran out to get a copy of the play. That play has been reviewed elsewhere in this space but as is my habit when I read an author who "speaks" to me I grab everything I can by him or her to see where they are going with the work. This is doubly true in the case of Brother Wilson as his work is purposefully structured as an integrated cycle, and as an intensive dramatic look at the black historical experience of the 20th century that has driven a lot of my own above-mentioned political activism.
By the time that this review appears I will have already reviewed five of the ten plays in August Wilson’s Century cycle. On the first five I believe that I ran out of fulsome praise for his work and particularly for his tightly woven story and dialogue. Rather than keep following that path for the next five plays I would prefer to concentrate on some of the dialogue that makes Brother Wilson’s work so compelling. For those who want to peek at my general observations you can look at my review of “Gem Of The Ocean” (the first play chronologically in the cycle).
In all previously reviewed plays I noticed some piece of dialogue that seemed to me to sum up the essence of the play. Sometimes that is done by the lead character as was the case with Troy Maxton in “Fences” when he (correctly) stated that there should been “no too early” in regard to the possibilities of black achievement and prospects in America. Other times it is by a secondary character in the form of some handed down black folk wisdom as means to survive in racially-hardened America. In “The Piano Lesson” no one phrase sticks out as much as the story surrounding the history of the piano, the carvings engraved in it and the historical memories of slave, slave-owner and the scars of slavery’s harm on black life in the 1930’s (and the 2000’s).
The struggle between brother and sister, Boy Willie and Berneice, over this family heirloom is more than just an exercise in the productive use of the unused piano but points to the importance of trying to preserve memory in a world that does not cherish such notions. This is not the best play in the Wilson cycle by a long shot but, as always, there is plenty of food for thought for anyone who has confronted this issue. Slavery times, and Jim Crow times, and de facto segregation times and, unfortunately, now in so-called “post-racial” times demand the preservation of such memory. The ill-fated King Hedleys, I and II, and Troy Maxtons of the world (characters in other Wilson plays in this cycle) deserve no less. Once again, kudos Brother Wilson.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
*It Wasn’t “Morning In America” For Everyone In Reagan's Time- Playwright August Wilson’s “King Hedley II”
Book Review
King Hedley II, 1985, August Wilson, Theatre Communications Group, New York, 2007
Okay, blame it on the recently departed Studs Terrell and his damn interview books. I had just been reading his "The Spectator", a compilation of some of his interviews of various authors, actors and other celebrities from his long-running Chicago radio program when I came across an interview that he had with the playwright under review here, August Wilson. Of course, that interview dealt with things near and dear to their hearts on the cultural front and mine as well. Our mutual love of the blues, our concerns about the history and fate of black people and the other oppressed of capitalist society and our need to express ourselves politically in the best way we can. For Studs it was the incessant interviews, for me it is incessant political activity and for the late August Wilson it was his incessant devotion to his century cycle of ten plays that covered a range of black experiences over the 20th century.
Strangely, although I was familiar with the name of the playwright August Wilson and was aware that he had produced a number of plays that were performed at a college-sponsored repertory theater here in Boston I had not seen or read his plays prior to reading the Terrell interview. Naturally when I read there that one of the plays being discussed was entitled "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" about the legendary female blues singer from the 1920's I ran out to get a copy of the play. That play has been reviewed elsewhere in this space but as is my habit when I read an author who "speaks" to me I grab everything I can by him or her to see where they are going with the work. This is doubly true in the case of Brother Wilson as his work is purposefully structured as an integrated cycle, and as an intensive dramatic look at the black historical experience of the 20th century that has driven a lot of my own above-mentioned political activism.
By the time that this review appears I will have already reviewed five of the ten plays in August Wilson’s Century cycle. On the first five I believe that I ran out of fulsome praise for his work and particularly for his tightly woven story and dialogue. Rather than keep following that path for the next five plays I would prefer to concentrate on some of the dialogue that makes Brother Wilson’s work so compelling. For those who want to peek at my general observations you can look at my review of “Gem Of The Ocean” (the first play chronologically in the cycle).
In all previously reviewed plays I noticed some piece of dialogue that seemed to me to sum up the essence of the play. Sometimes that is done by the lead character as was the case with Troy Maxton in “Fences” when he (correctly) stated that there should been “no too early” in regard to the possibilities of black achievement and prospects in America. Other times it is by a secondary character in the form of some handed down black folk wisdom as means to survive in racially-hardened America. Here it is the simple common phrase “it ain’t always about you” that several characters throw at King Hedley as he unsuccessfully tries to make his kind of sense out of the 1980’s.
Somehow the ‘abundant’ of the Reagan years in America did not trickle down to King Hedley’s Pittsburgh ghetto neighborhood. In the post civil rights, post affirmative action era he was the forgotten man, the man left out, so that he had to made do- any way he could. He made the wrong choices, as sometimes happens, and paid the price. In 2009 we can make this assertion- for every Barack Obama and others of W.E.B. Dubois' "talented tenth" who were incubating during the Reagan years there were ten (maybe more) young black men who were left to drift. Is Hedley’s story so different today in the ghetto? I think not. Thanks, Brother Wilson for speaking “truth to power” in addressing another timeless piece of the puzzle.
King Hedley II, 1985, August Wilson, Theatre Communications Group, New York, 2007
Okay, blame it on the recently departed Studs Terrell and his damn interview books. I had just been reading his "The Spectator", a compilation of some of his interviews of various authors, actors and other celebrities from his long-running Chicago radio program when I came across an interview that he had with the playwright under review here, August Wilson. Of course, that interview dealt with things near and dear to their hearts on the cultural front and mine as well. Our mutual love of the blues, our concerns about the history and fate of black people and the other oppressed of capitalist society and our need to express ourselves politically in the best way we can. For Studs it was the incessant interviews, for me it is incessant political activity and for the late August Wilson it was his incessant devotion to his century cycle of ten plays that covered a range of black experiences over the 20th century.
Strangely, although I was familiar with the name of the playwright August Wilson and was aware that he had produced a number of plays that were performed at a college-sponsored repertory theater here in Boston I had not seen or read his plays prior to reading the Terrell interview. Naturally when I read there that one of the plays being discussed was entitled "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" about the legendary female blues singer from the 1920's I ran out to get a copy of the play. That play has been reviewed elsewhere in this space but as is my habit when I read an author who "speaks" to me I grab everything I can by him or her to see where they are going with the work. This is doubly true in the case of Brother Wilson as his work is purposefully structured as an integrated cycle, and as an intensive dramatic look at the black historical experience of the 20th century that has driven a lot of my own above-mentioned political activism.
By the time that this review appears I will have already reviewed five of the ten plays in August Wilson’s Century cycle. On the first five I believe that I ran out of fulsome praise for his work and particularly for his tightly woven story and dialogue. Rather than keep following that path for the next five plays I would prefer to concentrate on some of the dialogue that makes Brother Wilson’s work so compelling. For those who want to peek at my general observations you can look at my review of “Gem Of The Ocean” (the first play chronologically in the cycle).
In all previously reviewed plays I noticed some piece of dialogue that seemed to me to sum up the essence of the play. Sometimes that is done by the lead character as was the case with Troy Maxton in “Fences” when he (correctly) stated that there should been “no too early” in regard to the possibilities of black achievement and prospects in America. Other times it is by a secondary character in the form of some handed down black folk wisdom as means to survive in racially-hardened America. Here it is the simple common phrase “it ain’t always about you” that several characters throw at King Hedley as he unsuccessfully tries to make his kind of sense out of the 1980’s.
Somehow the ‘abundant’ of the Reagan years in America did not trickle down to King Hedley’s Pittsburgh ghetto neighborhood. In the post civil rights, post affirmative action era he was the forgotten man, the man left out, so that he had to made do- any way he could. He made the wrong choices, as sometimes happens, and paid the price. In 2009 we can make this assertion- for every Barack Obama and others of W.E.B. Dubois' "talented tenth" who were incubating during the Reagan years there were ten (maybe more) young black men who were left to drift. Is Hedley’s story so different today in the ghetto? I think not. Thanks, Brother Wilson for speaking “truth to power” in addressing another timeless piece of the puzzle.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
*Searching For The Roots- August Wilson's "Radio Golf"
Click On Title To Link To August Wilson Homepage.
Play Review
Radio Golf (1997), August Wilson, Theater Communications Group, New York, 2007
Okay, blame it on the recently departed Studs Terkel and his damn interview books. I had just been reading his "The Spectator", a compilation of some of his interviews of various authors, actors and other celebrities from his long-running Chicago radio program when I came across an interview that he had with the playwright under review here, August Wilson. Of course, that interview dealt with things near and dear to their hearts on the cultural front and mine as well. Our mutual love of the blues, our concerns about the history and fate of black people and the other oppressed of capitalist society and our need to express ourselves politically in the best way we can. For Studs it was the incessant interviews, for me it is incessant political activity and for the late August Wilson it was his incessant devotion to his century cycle of ten plays that covered a range of black experiences over the 20th century.
Strangely, although I was familiar with the name of the playwright August Wilson and was aware that he had produced a number of plays that were performed at a college-sponsored repertory theater here in Boston I had not seen or read his plays prior to reading the Terkel interview. Naturally when I read there that one of the plays being discussed was entitled "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" about the legendary female blues singer from the 1920's I ran out to get a copy of the play. That play has been reviewed elsewhere in this space but as is my habit when I read an author who "speaks" to me I grab everything I can by him or her to see where they are going with the work. This is doubly true in the case of Brother Wilson as his work is purposefully structured as an integrated cycle, and as an intensive dramatic look at the black historical experience of the 20th century that has driven a lot of my own above-mentioned political activism.
By the time that this review appears I will have already reviewed five of the ten plays in August Wilson’s Century cycle. On the first five I believe that I ran out of fulsome praise for his work and particularly for his tightly woven story and dialogue. Rather than keep following that path for the next five plays I would prefer to concentrate on some of the dialogue that makes Brother Wilson’s work so compelling. For those who want to peek at my general observations you can look at my review of “Gem Of The Ocean” (the first play chronologically in the cycle).
In all previously reviewed plays I noticed some piece of dialogue that seemed to me to sum up the essence of the play. Sometimes that is done by the lead character as was the case with Troy Maxton in “Fences” when he (correctly) stated that there should been “no too early” in regard to the possibilities of black achievement and prospects in America. Other times it is by a secondary character in the form of some handed down black folk wisdom passed on as means to survive in racially-hardened America. In “Radio Golf” this task falls to Roosevelt Hicks, a man who has been a beneficiary of some affirmative action by the white establishment (as always not directly present in the story line as it unfolds), when he candidly and ironically notes that when heading to the golf club with his white associates he has to pass out business cards so that others do not think that he is the caddy.
That says more in a couple of sentences about a central aspect of black experience in America than many manifestos, treatises or sociological/psychological studies. That Wilson can weave that home truth into a play of less than one hundred pages and drive the plot line of a story that deals with the contradiction between black aspirations to “make it in America”, at least for those who fall into W.E.B. Dubois’ “talented tenth”, and that nagging feeling of selling out for a ‘mess of pottage’ to the mainstream white culture. Given the continuing hard fate for most blacks in housing, education and jobs today Brother Wilson is on to something. As I have also noted previously- that, my friends, is still something to consider in the “post-racial” Obamiad. We shall see.
Play Review
Radio Golf (1997), August Wilson, Theater Communications Group, New York, 2007
Okay, blame it on the recently departed Studs Terkel and his damn interview books. I had just been reading his "The Spectator", a compilation of some of his interviews of various authors, actors and other celebrities from his long-running Chicago radio program when I came across an interview that he had with the playwright under review here, August Wilson. Of course, that interview dealt with things near and dear to their hearts on the cultural front and mine as well. Our mutual love of the blues, our concerns about the history and fate of black people and the other oppressed of capitalist society and our need to express ourselves politically in the best way we can. For Studs it was the incessant interviews, for me it is incessant political activity and for the late August Wilson it was his incessant devotion to his century cycle of ten plays that covered a range of black experiences over the 20th century.
Strangely, although I was familiar with the name of the playwright August Wilson and was aware that he had produced a number of plays that were performed at a college-sponsored repertory theater here in Boston I had not seen or read his plays prior to reading the Terkel interview. Naturally when I read there that one of the plays being discussed was entitled "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" about the legendary female blues singer from the 1920's I ran out to get a copy of the play. That play has been reviewed elsewhere in this space but as is my habit when I read an author who "speaks" to me I grab everything I can by him or her to see where they are going with the work. This is doubly true in the case of Brother Wilson as his work is purposefully structured as an integrated cycle, and as an intensive dramatic look at the black historical experience of the 20th century that has driven a lot of my own above-mentioned political activism.
By the time that this review appears I will have already reviewed five of the ten plays in August Wilson’s Century cycle. On the first five I believe that I ran out of fulsome praise for his work and particularly for his tightly woven story and dialogue. Rather than keep following that path for the next five plays I would prefer to concentrate on some of the dialogue that makes Brother Wilson’s work so compelling. For those who want to peek at my general observations you can look at my review of “Gem Of The Ocean” (the first play chronologically in the cycle).
In all previously reviewed plays I noticed some piece of dialogue that seemed to me to sum up the essence of the play. Sometimes that is done by the lead character as was the case with Troy Maxton in “Fences” when he (correctly) stated that there should been “no too early” in regard to the possibilities of black achievement and prospects in America. Other times it is by a secondary character in the form of some handed down black folk wisdom passed on as means to survive in racially-hardened America. In “Radio Golf” this task falls to Roosevelt Hicks, a man who has been a beneficiary of some affirmative action by the white establishment (as always not directly present in the story line as it unfolds), when he candidly and ironically notes that when heading to the golf club with his white associates he has to pass out business cards so that others do not think that he is the caddy.
That says more in a couple of sentences about a central aspect of black experience in America than many manifestos, treatises or sociological/psychological studies. That Wilson can weave that home truth into a play of less than one hundred pages and drive the plot line of a story that deals with the contradiction between black aspirations to “make it in America”, at least for those who fall into W.E.B. Dubois’ “talented tenth”, and that nagging feeling of selling out for a ‘mess of pottage’ to the mainstream white culture. Given the continuing hard fate for most blacks in housing, education and jobs today Brother Wilson is on to something. As I have also noted previously- that, my friends, is still something to consider in the “post-racial” Obamiad. We shall see.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
*Opposition To Levelling The Mountains To Get the Coal- Free The Resisters
Click On Title To Link To Article About Resistance To Levelling The Hills Down In Coal Country And Links To More Information About That Struggle.
Commentary
The above cited link provides information about the struggle down in Kentucky and West Virginia against the efforts various energy companies to work the again sought after coal in the historic coal regions, minus the unionized (and many times heroic class warrior) mine workers. Readers of this site, may or may not know of my (secondary) roots to coal country but these efforts to resist the ravaging of Appalachia bear attention. Frankly, although I know that the coal country singer/songwriter Kathy Mattea is involved in the efforts to publicize this issue I am not, at the moment, that familiar with the particulars down there. But I will be commenting more on this issue. Fr now though, the corporate cast of characters should, instinctively, tell the tale of where our sympathies should lie. Later.
Commentary
The above cited link provides information about the struggle down in Kentucky and West Virginia against the efforts various energy companies to work the again sought after coal in the historic coal regions, minus the unionized (and many times heroic class warrior) mine workers. Readers of this site, may or may not know of my (secondary) roots to coal country but these efforts to resist the ravaging of Appalachia bear attention. Frankly, although I know that the coal country singer/songwriter Kathy Mattea is involved in the efforts to publicize this issue I am not, at the moment, that familiar with the particulars down there. But I will be commenting more on this issue. Fr now though, the corporate cast of characters should, instinctively, tell the tale of where our sympathies should lie. Later.
*In The Back Streets Of The Blues- Life On The "Chittlin' Circuit"
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Jesse Mae Hemphill Doing "You Can Talk About Me".
DVD REVIEW
Deep Blues, commentary by musicologist Robert Palmer and performances by various artists, directed by Robert Mugge, Shout Factory, 1993
Over the past year or so I have spent some time in this space addressing the question of why various male folk performers like Jesse Winchester, Tom Rush, and Chris Smither, from the folk revival of the 1960's, did or did not become "king of the hill" in that genre. (I am in the process of doing the same for female folk singers as "queen of the hill"). I have also addressed that same question, although not as extensively, concerning the various 1950's rock `n' roll artists who were left behind when rock exploded on the scene. I thought I had covered so many of the artists from the blues scene that I did not think that I needed to pose the question in that genre. Apparently I was wrong as this well done blues documentary, "Deep Blues", directed by Robert Mugge and narrated by the famed blues musicologist Robert Palmer poses that very question point blank at those left behind down at the lesser levels of the blues pantheon.
This film spends no little time on setting the framework for its above-mentioned premise. That question, as the documentary unfolds, keeps honing in on who has kept the blues tradition alive back down at the roots-mainly in the rural South among the black agricultural laborers, small town black entertainment entrepreneurs and others who want to continue the blues tradition of the Saturday night "juke joint". In short this film is a labor of love by Mugge and Palmer in honor of those who have kept the blues tradition alive, mainly as a labor of their love. Although this film was produced in 1991 in the year 2009 the same question could be fruitfully posed about has kept the faith down home. Although there are periodic revivals of the blues around such events as Martin Scorsese's six-part PBS blues documentary of 2003 the hard truth is that the blues, as a genre, is not generally a paying proposition these days. So it has to be love of this art form that drives the work.
A number of lesser known blues performers performing their work, some that I had heard of previously others that I have not, form the core of this film. After viewing the performances I come way, once again, with that nagging question about why some artists "made it" and others did not. All blues aficionados are familiar with Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Son House, Memphis Minnie, Etta James,"Big Mama" Thornton and the like. But what about those on the "chittlin' circuit"- the likes of Junior Kimbrough, R.L. Burnside, Jessie Mae Hemphill, Roosevelt Barnes, Big Jack Johnson and Lonnie Pitchford? I thought not. Some decided for personal reasons to stay put, some were in the wrong place at the wrong time, some are merely imitative of greater artists and some are just flat out not good enough for the "bigs". Nevertheless this is their story. Kudos to Mugge and Palmer for telling it.
Jesse Mae Hemphill - Standing In My Doorway Crying Lyrics
Oh baby
I'm standing in my doorway crying
Oh baby
I'm standing in my doorway crying
Oh baby
Oh baby
You know I love you baby
But you treat me so lowdown
You know I love you baby
But you treat me so lowdown yeah
When you left me baby yeah
you left me ring in my hand and crying
when you left me baby yeah yeah
you left me ring in my hand and crying
Oh yeah yeah
you know love you baby
wont you come back home to me
You know I love you baby yeah
wont you come back home to me yeah
you left me darling
I never loved a man yeah
like I love you before
I never loved a man baby
like I loved you before yeah
you left me darling
The man love yeah yeah
he treat me so mean yeah
the man I love yeah
he treat me so mean
some day baby
some day baby
you'll want from me
Oh home yeah come home
come home yeah come on home yeah
come on home baby
come on home baby
I got love for you baby
Junior Kimbrough - Done Got Old lyrics
Well, I done got old
I caint do the thangs I used to do;
I'm a old man
Well, I done got old
I caint do the thangs I used to do;
I'm a old man
Remember the day, Babe
Now dead and gone
Days I could love you
So many times
Now things have changed
And I done got old
I caint do the thangs I used to do;
I'm a old man
I don' look like I used
Can't walk like I used
Cain't love like I used
Now things have changed
And I done got old
I caint do the thangs I used to do;
I'm a old man
Junior Kimbrough - Meet Me In The City lyrics
Meet me over in the city
And I see everything is so fine
We'll get together now, Darling
Oh yeah, we will
We'll make everything all right
Oh Honey, don't
Please, please don't leave me right now
Right now
You got me, Baby
You got me, Girl
You got me where you want me, Baby
Now Girl, I know you are
Satisfied
You got me, Baby
You got me, Girl
You got me where you want me, Baby
Now Girl, I know you are
Satisfied
Yeah but there's one more thing I wanna tell you right now, Baby
Don't leave me, Girl
Please, please don't leave me right now
Right now
Sometimes I think I will, Baby
And then again my my my my my my my mind'll change
Yeah, sometimes I think I will, Baby
And then again my my my my my my my mind'll change
Ah tell me don't do it right now
Please, please don't leave me right now, right now
Ah ha, I love you, Girl
Yeah a yeah yeah yeah yeah
I love you, Babe
Please, please don't leave me right
Right now
Junior Kimbrough - Sad Days Lonely Nights lyrics
My momma told me
I was a child
She said, "Son,
You're gonna have hard days"
My daddy told me too
He said, "Son,
You're gonna have sad days
Lonely nights
Setting alone
Head hung down
Tears runnin' down"
Done got old
Sad days, lonely nights
Done overtaken me
Sometimes I set alone
I wonder about the things
My mum and daddy told me
Sad days, lonely nights
come overtaking me
DVD REVIEW
Deep Blues, commentary by musicologist Robert Palmer and performances by various artists, directed by Robert Mugge, Shout Factory, 1993
Over the past year or so I have spent some time in this space addressing the question of why various male folk performers like Jesse Winchester, Tom Rush, and Chris Smither, from the folk revival of the 1960's, did or did not become "king of the hill" in that genre. (I am in the process of doing the same for female folk singers as "queen of the hill"). I have also addressed that same question, although not as extensively, concerning the various 1950's rock `n' roll artists who were left behind when rock exploded on the scene. I thought I had covered so many of the artists from the blues scene that I did not think that I needed to pose the question in that genre. Apparently I was wrong as this well done blues documentary, "Deep Blues", directed by Robert Mugge and narrated by the famed blues musicologist Robert Palmer poses that very question point blank at those left behind down at the lesser levels of the blues pantheon.
This film spends no little time on setting the framework for its above-mentioned premise. That question, as the documentary unfolds, keeps honing in on who has kept the blues tradition alive back down at the roots-mainly in the rural South among the black agricultural laborers, small town black entertainment entrepreneurs and others who want to continue the blues tradition of the Saturday night "juke joint". In short this film is a labor of love by Mugge and Palmer in honor of those who have kept the blues tradition alive, mainly as a labor of their love. Although this film was produced in 1991 in the year 2009 the same question could be fruitfully posed about has kept the faith down home. Although there are periodic revivals of the blues around such events as Martin Scorsese's six-part PBS blues documentary of 2003 the hard truth is that the blues, as a genre, is not generally a paying proposition these days. So it has to be love of this art form that drives the work.
A number of lesser known blues performers performing their work, some that I had heard of previously others that I have not, form the core of this film. After viewing the performances I come way, once again, with that nagging question about why some artists "made it" and others did not. All blues aficionados are familiar with Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Son House, Memphis Minnie, Etta James,"Big Mama" Thornton and the like. But what about those on the "chittlin' circuit"- the likes of Junior Kimbrough, R.L. Burnside, Jessie Mae Hemphill, Roosevelt Barnes, Big Jack Johnson and Lonnie Pitchford? I thought not. Some decided for personal reasons to stay put, some were in the wrong place at the wrong time, some are merely imitative of greater artists and some are just flat out not good enough for the "bigs". Nevertheless this is their story. Kudos to Mugge and Palmer for telling it.
Jesse Mae Hemphill - Standing In My Doorway Crying Lyrics
Oh baby
I'm standing in my doorway crying
Oh baby
I'm standing in my doorway crying
Oh baby
Oh baby
You know I love you baby
But you treat me so lowdown
You know I love you baby
But you treat me so lowdown yeah
When you left me baby yeah
you left me ring in my hand and crying
when you left me baby yeah yeah
you left me ring in my hand and crying
Oh yeah yeah
you know love you baby
wont you come back home to me
You know I love you baby yeah
wont you come back home to me yeah
you left me darling
I never loved a man yeah
like I love you before
I never loved a man baby
like I loved you before yeah
you left me darling
The man love yeah yeah
he treat me so mean yeah
the man I love yeah
he treat me so mean
some day baby
some day baby
you'll want from me
Oh home yeah come home
come home yeah come on home yeah
come on home baby
come on home baby
I got love for you baby
Junior Kimbrough - Done Got Old lyrics
Well, I done got old
I caint do the thangs I used to do;
I'm a old man
Well, I done got old
I caint do the thangs I used to do;
I'm a old man
Remember the day, Babe
Now dead and gone
Days I could love you
So many times
Now things have changed
And I done got old
I caint do the thangs I used to do;
I'm a old man
I don' look like I used
Can't walk like I used
Cain't love like I used
Now things have changed
And I done got old
I caint do the thangs I used to do;
I'm a old man
Junior Kimbrough - Meet Me In The City lyrics
Meet me over in the city
And I see everything is so fine
We'll get together now, Darling
Oh yeah, we will
We'll make everything all right
Oh Honey, don't
Please, please don't leave me right now
Right now
You got me, Baby
You got me, Girl
You got me where you want me, Baby
Now Girl, I know you are
Satisfied
You got me, Baby
You got me, Girl
You got me where you want me, Baby
Now Girl, I know you are
Satisfied
Yeah but there's one more thing I wanna tell you right now, Baby
Don't leave me, Girl
Please, please don't leave me right now
Right now
Sometimes I think I will, Baby
And then again my my my my my my my mind'll change
Yeah, sometimes I think I will, Baby
And then again my my my my my my my mind'll change
Ah tell me don't do it right now
Please, please don't leave me right now, right now
Ah ha, I love you, Girl
Yeah a yeah yeah yeah yeah
I love you, Babe
Please, please don't leave me right
Right now
Junior Kimbrough - Sad Days Lonely Nights lyrics
My momma told me
I was a child
She said, "Son,
You're gonna have hard days"
My daddy told me too
He said, "Son,
You're gonna have sad days
Lonely nights
Setting alone
Head hung down
Tears runnin' down"
Done got old
Sad days, lonely nights
Done overtaken me
Sometimes I set alone
I wonder about the things
My mum and daddy told me
Sad days, lonely nights
come overtaking me
Monday, June 08, 2009
*The Seamy Side Of Capitalist Restoration In Russia- A Cautionary Tale, Of Sorts
Click On Title To Link To "Los Angeles Times" Article On The Plight Of The Poor In Moscow.
Commentary
As an old time supporter of the political legacy of Leon Trotsky, the acknowledged leader of the Russian and International Left Opposition to the Stalinist degeneration of the Russian Revolution in his time, and defender of the Soviet Union prior to the capitalist restoration in 1991-2 this linked article is rather a depressing one concerning the fate of those of a generation who helped to build that society. Notwithstanding the current heavy odds against such a foreseeable outcome that society needs, and needs desperately, a socialist revolution. A new October revolution. More on this topic later as we head toward the anniversary Of Leon Trotsky's death in August.
Commentary
As an old time supporter of the political legacy of Leon Trotsky, the acknowledged leader of the Russian and International Left Opposition to the Stalinist degeneration of the Russian Revolution in his time, and defender of the Soviet Union prior to the capitalist restoration in 1991-2 this linked article is rather a depressing one concerning the fate of those of a generation who helped to build that society. Notwithstanding the current heavy odds against such a foreseeable outcome that society needs, and needs desperately, a socialist revolution. A new October revolution. More on this topic later as we head toward the anniversary Of Leon Trotsky's death in August.
***The "Max Daddy” Blues Shootout- Alan Lomax’s "Blues At Newport 1966"
Click On Title To Link To YouTube Film Clip Of Skip James Doing "Devil Got My Woman" At The Newport Folk Festival In 1966. Wow!
DVD REVIEW
Devil Got My Woman: Blues At Newport 1966, Skip James, Son House, Howlin’ Wolf, Bukka White and the Reverend Pearly Brown, Vestapol Productions, 1996
I have spent some considerable effort in this space reviewing various trends in the blues tradition, including both the country blues and the later electrified urban sound most closely associated with places like Memphis and Chicago. As is fairly well known country blues got its start down in the South during the early part of the 20th century (if not earlier) as a way for blacks (mainly) to cope with the dreaded, deadly work on the plantations (picking that hard to pick cotton). The electric blues really came of age in the post World War I period and later when there was a massive black migration out of the south in search of the, now disappearing, industrial jobs up north (and to get out from under old Jim Crow racial segregation). In this volume (and similarly in a couple of other previously reviewed volumes in this series) Stefan Grossman, the renowned guitar teacher and performer in his own right, has taken old film clips and segments from an Alan Lomax experiment at the Newport Folk Festival of putting exemplars of both traditions together under one roof and has produced an hour of classic performances by some masters of the genre. Wow.
Let me set the stage on this one to give you a small, small sense of what an historic blues cultural occasion this was. Alan Lomax, the famous musicologist and folk performer, put the then recently rediscovered Skip James and Son House and the already well known and powerful voice of Howlin' Wolf together under one roof. Oh yes, and then added Bukka White and the Reverend Pearly Brown to the mix. The motif: an attempt to recreate an old fashioned "juke joint'" from back in the days on a Down South rural Saturday night complete with dancing and plenty of liquor. Watch out.
Needless to say anyone even vaguely familiar with the long and storied history of the early blues knows that this was indeed an historic, and fleeting, occasion. 1966 might have been one of the few years that such an event could have been put together as the old country blues singers were starting to past from the scene. But as fate would have it we got one last chance to look at these five performers going head to head, everyone one way or another a legend. With the partial exception of the Reverend Pearly Brown and his religiously- oriented country blues done in the shout and response style of the old Baptist churches reflecting the tradition made popular by the Reverend Blind Willie Johnson, all the other performers have rated plenty of ink in this space as members of one or another branch of the blues pantheon.
A few of the highlights. Skip James' rendition of his classic "I'd Rather Be The Devil That Be That Woman's Man" (also known by the title of this documentary "Devil Got My Woman"). I have gotten more mileage out of my use of that title in various political commentaries in this space than I deserve. Thanks, Skip. Son House brought out his classic "Death Letter Blues" that I always go crazy over. Howlin' Wolf is, well, Howlin' Wolf as he almost inhales the harmonica on "How Many More Years" and does an incredible cover of the old Robert Johnson/Elmore James song "Dust My Broom". Reverend Brown does a very soulful rendition of the tradtional religious blues classic "Keep Your Lamp Trimmed And Burning".
So who is left? Well Bukka White, of course. Bukka is a recent addition to my personal blues pantheon and I have spend some effort praising his work, especially his smoking guitar work on that old National Steel guitar that he makes hum. Hell, I would have walked to Mississippi to hear that. This documentary has a separate songs section so that one can replay any song that one wants to without having to replay the whole film (although I did that as well). So who got replayed? Yes Bukka on "100 Men" (with Howlin' Wolf doing the response and some unknown washboard player as backup). Yes indeed, this was the blues shootout to end all shootouts. If you want to know what it was like to see men play the blues for keeps look here.
Devil Got My Woman lyrics
You know, I'd rather be the ol' devil
Well, I'd rather be the devil
Then to be that woman' man
You know, rather be the devil
Than to be that woman' man
You know, I'm so sorry
You know, so sorry
That I ever fell in love wit' you-ooo-hoo-oo
Because you know you don't treat me
Baby, like you used ta do-hoo
You know, I laid down last night
You know, I laid down last night
And I thought to take me some rest
But my mind got to rambling
Like a wild geese from the west
You know the woman that I love
The woman that I love
I stol't her from my best friend
But you know he done got lucky
An he done got her back, again
You know, I used to cut your kindleing
You know, I used to cut your kindleing
Baby, then I made you some fire
Then I would tote all your water
Way, way, way, from the bogy brier
You know, my baby she don't drink whiskey
My baby, she don't drink no whiskey
An I know she ain't crazy about wine
Now, it was nothin' but the ol' devil
He done changed my baby's mind
You know, I could be right
You know, I could be right
Then again, I could be wrong
But it was nothin' but the ol' devil
He done got my baby
Now he done gone.
I'm So Glad lyrics
Eee, an I'm so glad
Yes sir, I'm glad
Until I just don't know
What to do
An I am tired a-weeping
I'm so tired a-moanin'
I'm so tired of groanin' for you
(guitar)
Eee, an I am so -
Yes, I am mighty glad
Until I just don't know what -
Would you be my little darlin'?
Would you be my dear?
Would you be my darlin'
Be my dear?
Then I would be mighty -
I would be mighty glad
Then I just wouldn't know
What to do
When I say, 'Coo-coo-coo'
Just like a little baby, do
I would love to have
A lovely kiss from you
Then I would be mighty -
Then I would be so -
Until I just wouldn't know -
You know, I'm tired a-weeping
I'm so tired of a-moanin'
I'm so tired of groanin' for you
(guitar)
Eee, an I am so glad
Yes, I'm so glad
Until I just don't know
What to do-ooo-woo-ooo-ooo.
Cherry Ball Blues lyrics
I love my little cherry ball
Better than I love myself
I love my cherry ball
Better than I love myself
Then if she don't love me
She can't love nobody else
Cherry ball, she quit me
Quit me in a nice, good way
Cherry ball, she quit me
Quit me in a nice, good way
You know, what it take to get her back
I carries it ev'ryday
Now, I left cherry ball standin'
Standin' in the back do' cryin'
Now, I left cherry ball
Standin' in the back do' cryin'
Of course, I feel her condition
But her trouble ain't none a-mine
She's just like a spider
She's hangin' on the wall
She's like a spider
She's hangin' on the wall
You know, she done quit me
She quit me without a cause
Now, when she left me
She left tears in my eye
Now, when she left me
She left tears in my eye
You know, that I love her
But her disposition I do dispise
Now, you can take the Southern
I'm 'on take the Sante Fe
Now, you take the Southern
I'm 'on take the Sante Fe
I'm gon' ride an gon' ramble
'Till cherry ball come back to me
She got to come on back home to me-ee-ee.
Son House - Death Letter lyrics
Lyrics to Death Letter :
I got a letter this mornin, how do you reckon it read?
It said, "Hurry, hurry, yeah, your love is dead"
I got a letter this mornin, I say how do you reckon it read?
You know, it said, "Hurry, hurry, how come the gal you love is dead?"
So, I grabbed up my suitcase, and took off down the road
When I got there she was layin on a coolin' board
I grabbed up my suitcase, and I said and I took off down the road
I said, but when I got there she was already layin on a coolin' board
Well, I walked up right close, looked down in her face
Said, the good ol' gal got to lay here 'til the Judgment Day
I walked up right close, and I said I looked down in her face
I said the good ol' gal, she got to lay here 'til the Judgment Day
Looked like there was 10,000 people standin' round the buryin' ground
I didn't know I loved her 'til they laid her down
Looked like 10,000 were standin' round the buryin' ground
You know I didn't know I loved her 'til they damn laid her down
Lord, have mercy on my wicked soul
I wouldn't mistreat you baby, for my weight in gold
I said, Lord, have mercy on my wicked soul
You know I wouldn't mistreat nobody, baby, not for my weight in gold
Well, I folded up my arms and I slowly walked away
I said, "Farewell honey, I'll see you on Judgment Day"
Ah, yeah, oh, yes, I slowly walked away
I said, "Farewell, farewell, I'll see you on the Judgment Day"
You know I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
The blues came along and drove my spirit away
I went in my room, I said I bowed down to pray
I said the blues came along and drove my spirit away
You know I didn't feel so bad, 'til the good ol' sun went down
I didn't have a soul to throw my arms around
I didn't feel so bad, 'til the good ol' sun went down
You know, I didn't have nobody to throw my arms around
I loved you baby, like I love myself
You don't have me, you won't have nobody else
I loved you baby, better than I did myself
I said now if you don't have me, I didn't want you to have nobody else
You know, it's hard to love someone that don't love you
Ain't no satisfaction, don't care what in the world you do
Yeah, it's hard to love someone that don't love you
You know it don't look like satisfaction, don't care what in the world you do
Got up this mornin', just about the break of day
A-huggin' the pillow where she used to lay
Got up this mornin', just about the break of day
A-huggin' the pillow where my good gal used to lay
Got up this mornin', feelin' round for my shoes
You know, I must-a had them old walkin' blues
Got up this mornin', feelin' round for my shoes
Yeah, you know bout that, I must-a had them old walkin' blues
You know, I cried last night and all the night before
Gotta change my way a livin', so I don't have to cry no more
You know, I cried last night and all the night before
Gotta change my way a livin', you see, so I don't have to cry no more
Ah, hush, thought I heard her call my name
If it wasn't so loud and so nice and plain
Ah, yeah
Mmmmmm
Well, listen, whatever you do
This is one thing, honey, I tried to get along with you
Yes, no tellin' what you do
I done everything I could, just to try and get along with you
Well, the minutes seemed like hours, hours they seemed like days
It seemed like my good, old gal outta done stopped her low-down ways
Minutes seemed like hours, hours they seemed like days
Seems like my good, old gal outta done stopped her low-down ways
You know, love's a hard ol' fall, make you do things you don't wanna do
Love sometimes leaves you feeling sad and blue
You know, love's a hard ol' fall, make you do things you don't wanna do
Love sometimes make you feel sad and blue
Son House - Preachin' Blues lyrics
Lyrics to Preachin' Blues :
Oh, I'm gonna get me a religion, I'm gonna join the Baptist Church
Oh, I'm gonna get me a religion, I'm gonna join the Baptist Church
I'm gonna be a Baptist preacher, and I sure won't have to work
Oh, I'm a-preach these blues, and I, I want everybody to shout
I want everybody to shout
I'm gonna do like a prisoner, I'm gonna roll my time on out
Oh, I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
Oh, I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
Till the blues come along, and they blowed my spirit1 away
Oh, I'd-a had religion, Lord, this every day
Oh, I'd-a had religion, Lord, this every day
But the womens and whiskey, well, they would not set me free
Oh, I wish I had me a heaven of my own
Hey, a heaven of my own
Till I'd give all my women a long, long, happy home
hey, I love my baby, just like I love myself
Oh, just like I love myself
Well, if she don't have me, she won't have nobody else
Son House - Pony Blues lyrics
Lyrics to Pony Blues :
Why don't you catch my pony, now saddle up my black mare?
...my pony, saddle up, up my black mare?
You know, I'm gonna find my baby, well, in the world somewhere
You know, he's a travelin' horse, an' he's too black bad
He's a travelin' pony, I declare, he's too black bad
You know, he got a gait, now, no Shetlan' ain't never had
You know, I taken him by the rein an' I led him around and 'round
I say, I taken him by the reins an' I, I led him, him 'round and 'round
You know, he ain't the best in the world, but he's the best ever been in this town
You know, he's a travelin' horse and he don't deny his name
He's a travelin' pony and he don't deny his name
You know, the way he can travel is a low-down, old, dirty shame
Why don't you come up here, pony, now come on, please let's us go
I said, "Come up, get up now, please pony, now let's us go"
Let's we saddle on down on the Gulf of, of Mexico
You know, the horse that I'm ridin', he can fox-trot, he can lope and pace
I say, the pony I'm ridin', he can fox-trot, he can lope and pace
You know, a horse with them many gaits, you know, I'm bound to win the race
He's a travelin' horse an' he don't deny his name
He's a travelin' pony, he don't deny his name
the way he can travel is a low-down, old, dirty shame
Howlin' Wolf
All songs written by Willie Dixon (Arc Music Corp- BMI) except * by Chester Burnett (Arc Music Corp- BMI) and ** by James B. Oden (Arc Music Corp- BMI)
SHAKE FOR ME
Sure look good, but it don't mean a thing to me
Sure look good, but it don't mean a thing to me
I got a hip-shaking woman, shake like a willow tree
You better wait baby, you got back a little too late.
You better wait baby, you got back a little too late.
I got a cool-shaking baby, shake like jello on a plate
When my baby walk, you know she's fine and mellow
When my baby walk, you know she's fine and mellow
Every time she stops, her flesh it shake like jello
Shake it baby, shake it for me
Shake lil' baby, shake it for me
Oh, shake it little baby, shake like a willow tree
THE RED ROOSTER
I had a little red rooster too lazy to crow for day
I had a little red rooster too lazy to crow for day
Keep everything in the barnyard upset in every way
Oh, them dogs begin to bark, hounds begin to howl
Oh, them dogs begin to bark, hounds begin to howl
Oh, Watch out strange kin people, little red rooster's on the prowl
If you see my little red rooster, please drag him on home
If you see my little red rooster, please drag him on home
There ain't no peace in the barnyard since my little red rooster's been gone
YOU'LL BE MINE
You so sweet, you so fine
How I wish you were mine
Honey I'll be your love
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You so nice, you so true
I'm so glad I love you
Honey I'll be your love
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
Tell me pretty baby is you gonna try
If you say it baby, hang on baby
till the day I die
It's so true I love you
I don't care what you do
Honey I'll be your love
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
Tell me pretty baby is you gonna try
If you say it baby, hang on baby
till the day I die
That is true I love you
I don't care what you do
Honey I'll be your love
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You'll be mine (fade out)
WHO'S BEEN TALKIN' *
My baby caught the train, left me all alone
My baby caught the train, left me all alone
She knows I love her, she doin' me wrong
My baby bought the ticket, long as her right arm
My baby bought the ticket, long as my right arm
She says she's gonna ride long as I been from home
Well who been talking, everything that I do
Well who been talking, everything that I do
Well you is my baby, I hate to lose
Well goodbye baby, hate to see you go.
Well goodbye baby, hate to see you go.
You know I love you I'm the causin of it all.
I'm the causin' of it all.
I'm the causin' of it all.
I'm the causin' of it all.
WANG DANG DOODLE
Tell Automatic Slim , tell Razor Totin' Jim
Tell Butcher Knife Totin' Annie, tell Fast Talking Fanny
A we gonna pitch a ball, a down to that union hall
We gonna romp and tromp till midnight
We gonna fuss and fight till daylight
We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
Tell Kudu-Crawlin' Red, tell Abyssinian Ned
Tell ol' Pistol Pete, everybody gonna meet
Tonight we need no rest, we really gonna throw a mess
We gonna to break out all of the windows, we gonna kick down all the doors
We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
Tell Fats and Washboard Sam, that everybody gonna to jam
Tell Shaky and Boxcar Joe, we got sawdust on the floor
Tell Peg and Caroline Dye, we gonna have a time.
When the fish scent fill the air, there'll be snuff juice everywhere
We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
SPOONFUL
It could be a spoonsful of diamonds,
Could be a spoonful of gold,
Just a little spoon of your precious love,
Satisfies my soul.
Men lies about little,
Some of them cries about little,
Some of them dies about little,
Everything fight about little spoonful.
It could be a spoonful of coffee,
Could be a spoonful of tea,
But a little spoon of your precious love,
Good enough for me.
Men lies about that,
Some of them dies about that,
Some of them cries about that,
But everything fight about that spoonful.
That spoon, dat spoon, dat spoonful.
It could be a spoonsful of water,
Saved from the deserts sand,
But one spoon of them fortifies.
Save you from another man.
Men lies about that,
Some of them cries about that,
Some of them dies about that,
Everybody fightin' about that spoonful.
That spoon, dat spoon, dat spoonful.
BACK DOOR MAN
I am a back door man.
I am a back door man.
Well the men don't know, but the little girls understand.
When everybody's sound asleep,
I'm somewhere making my midnight creep.
Yes in the morning, the rooster crow.
Something tell me, I got to go.
I am a back door man.
I am a back door man.
Well the men don't know, but little girls understand.
They take me to the doctor. Shot full o' holes.
Nurse cried, please save the soul.
Killed him for murder, first degree.
Judge's wife cried. Let the man go free.
I am a back door man.
I am a back door man.
Well the men don't know, but little girls understand.
Stand out there. Cop's wife cried.
Don't take him down. Rather be dead.
Six feets in the ground.
When you come home you can eat pork and beans.
I eats mo' chicken any man seen
I am a back door man.
I am a back door man.
Well the men don't know, but the little girls understand.
HOWLIN' FOR MY BABY
Pretty baby. Come on home. I love you.
If you hear me howlin', calling on my darlin'.
She's hot like red pepper. Sweet like cherry wine.
I'm so glad she love me. Love me all the time.
She's my little baby, sweet as she can be.
All this love she's got, do belongs to me.
If you hear me howlin', calling on my darling.
My baby. Come on home. I love you. Come on home.
If you hear me howlin', calling on my darling.
Every time she kiss me, she makes the lights go out.
From early in the morning, she makes me jump and shout.
This bad love she got, makes me laugh and cry.
Makes me really know, that I'm too young to die.
If you hear me howlin', calling on my darling.
Come on. I love you. Pretty baby.
Reverend Pearly Brown doing Blind Willie Johnson - In My Time Of Dyin' lyrics
Lyrics to In My Time Of Dyin' :
Well, in my time of dyin', don't want nobody to moan
All I want for you to do is take my body home
Well, well, well, so I can die easy
Well, well, well, well, well, well, so I can die easy
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make my dyin' bed
Well, meet me, Jesus, meet me, meet me in the middle of the air
If these wings should fail me, Lord, won't you meet me with another pair
Well, well, well, so I can die easy
Well, well, well, well, well, well, so I can die easy
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make my dyin' bed
Lord, in my time of dyin', don't want nobody to cry
All I want you to do, is take me when I die
Well, well, well, so I can die easy
Well, well, well, well, well, well, so I can die easy
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make my dyin' bed
Reverend Pearly Brown doing Blind Willie Johnson - It's Nobody's Fault But Mine Lyrics to It's Nobody's Fault But Mine :
Nobody's fault but mine,
nobody's fault but mine
If I don't read it my soul be lost
I have a bible in my home,
I have a bible in my home
If I don't read it my soul be lost
Mmm, father he taught me how to read,
father he taught me how to read
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine
Ah, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine
If I don't read it my soul be lost
Ah, I have a bible of my own,
I have a bible of my own
If I don't read it my soul be lost
Oh, mother she taught me how to read,
mother she taught me how to read
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine
Ah, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine
If I don't read it my soul be lost
And sister she taught me how to read,
sister she taught me how to read
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine
Ah, mmm, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine
If I don't read it my soul'd be lost, mmm
Aberdeen Mississippi 2:33 Trk 9
Bukka White (Booker T. Washington White)
Bukka White - vocal & guitar
& Washboard Sam (Robert Brown) - wshbrd.
Recorded: March 7th & 8th 1940 Chicago, Illinois
Album: Parchman Farm Blues, Roots RTS 33055
Transcriber: Awcantor@aol.com
I was over in Aberdeen
On my way to New Orlean
I was over in Aberdeen
On my way to New Orlean
Them Aberdeen women told me
Will buy my gasoline
Hey, two little women
That I ain't ever seen
They has two little women
That I ain't never seen
These two little women
Just from New Orlean
Ooh, sittin' down in Aberdeen
With New Orlean on my mind
I'm sittin' down in Aberdeen
With New Orlean on my mind
Well, I believe them Aberdeen women
Gonna make me lose my mind, yeah
(slide guitar & washboard)
Aber-deen is my home
But the mens don't want me around
Aberdeen is my home
But the men don't want me around
They know I will take these women
An take them outta town
Listen, you Aberdeen women
You know I ain't got no dime
Oh-oh listen you women
You know'd I ain't got no dime
They been had the po' boy
All up and down.
(guitar & washboard to end)
Fixin' To Die Blues lyrics
I'm lookin' funny in my eyes
And I believe I'm fixin' to die
Believe I'm fixin' to die
I'm lookin' funny in my eyes
Now, I believe I'm fixin' to die, yeah
I know I was born to die
But I hate to leave my children around cryin'
Yeah
Just as sho' we live
It's a, sho' we's born to die
Sho' we's born to die
Just as sho's we live
Sho' we's born to die
Yeah
I know I was born to die
But I hate to leave my children around cryin'
Yeah
Yo mother treated me, children
Like I was her baby child
Was her baby child
Yo mother treated me
Like I was her baby child
That's why's I sighed
Sighed so hard
And come back home to die
Yeah
So many nights at the fireside
How my chillen's mother would cry
How my chillen's mother would cry
So many nights at the fireside
How my chillen's mother would cry
Yeah
'Cause I told the mother I had to say, goodbye
Look over yon-der
On the buryin' ground
On the buryin' ground
Look over yonder, on the burying ground
Yon' stand ten thousand
Standin' still to let me down
Yeah
(washboard & guitar)
Mother, take my chillen back
Before they let me down
Before they let me down
Mother, take my chillen back
'Fore they let me down
Ain't no need a-them screamin' an cryin'
On the graveyard ground.
(washboard & guitar to end)
Shake 'em On Down lyrics
Yes, you're a nice girl, mama
And little girl
Night before day
We gonna
Shake 'em on down
I need some time holler, now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down
Too much is debted to me
Through the week
Save these chili peppers
Some ol' rainy day, here
Best I'm hollerin', now
Ooh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down, now
Fix my supper
Let me go to bed
This white lightnin' done gone
To my head
Oh, must I holler now
Ooh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down
I ain't been in Georgia, babe
I been told
Georgia women got the best
Jellyroll
These nights time holler, now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', mama
Must I shake 'em on down
See See mama, heard
You, done-done
Made me love you, now I know
Man done coming
Best I'm hollerin', now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', mama
Must I shake 'em on down
Pretty girl's got
They don't know
What it is
Make me drunk at that old
Whiskey still
It's best I'm hollerin', now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin'
Must I shake 'em on down.
Poor Boy Long Way From Home by Bukka White Lyrics
Poor boy a long way from home
Poor boy I'm a long way from home
Poor boy I'm a long way from home
I don't have no happy home to go home to
When I left my home my baby's in my arms
When I left my home my baby's in my arms
When I left my home my baby's in my arms
She wanna know, 'Daddy, when you comin' back home?'
(guitar)
They got me down here on the farm
Got me down here on old farm
I don't have no one to come and go my bail
Baby, I wanna come back home to you
(guitar)
Sorry, baby I can't call you over the phone
Sorry, I can't call you over the phone
'Cause they got me down here long distance phone
But I can't call you baby over the phone.
(guitar to end)
DVD REVIEW
Devil Got My Woman: Blues At Newport 1966, Skip James, Son House, Howlin’ Wolf, Bukka White and the Reverend Pearly Brown, Vestapol Productions, 1996
I have spent some considerable effort in this space reviewing various trends in the blues tradition, including both the country blues and the later electrified urban sound most closely associated with places like Memphis and Chicago. As is fairly well known country blues got its start down in the South during the early part of the 20th century (if not earlier) as a way for blacks (mainly) to cope with the dreaded, deadly work on the plantations (picking that hard to pick cotton). The electric blues really came of age in the post World War I period and later when there was a massive black migration out of the south in search of the, now disappearing, industrial jobs up north (and to get out from under old Jim Crow racial segregation). In this volume (and similarly in a couple of other previously reviewed volumes in this series) Stefan Grossman, the renowned guitar teacher and performer in his own right, has taken old film clips and segments from an Alan Lomax experiment at the Newport Folk Festival of putting exemplars of both traditions together under one roof and has produced an hour of classic performances by some masters of the genre. Wow.
Let me set the stage on this one to give you a small, small sense of what an historic blues cultural occasion this was. Alan Lomax, the famous musicologist and folk performer, put the then recently rediscovered Skip James and Son House and the already well known and powerful voice of Howlin' Wolf together under one roof. Oh yes, and then added Bukka White and the Reverend Pearly Brown to the mix. The motif: an attempt to recreate an old fashioned "juke joint'" from back in the days on a Down South rural Saturday night complete with dancing and plenty of liquor. Watch out.
Needless to say anyone even vaguely familiar with the long and storied history of the early blues knows that this was indeed an historic, and fleeting, occasion. 1966 might have been one of the few years that such an event could have been put together as the old country blues singers were starting to past from the scene. But as fate would have it we got one last chance to look at these five performers going head to head, everyone one way or another a legend. With the partial exception of the Reverend Pearly Brown and his religiously- oriented country blues done in the shout and response style of the old Baptist churches reflecting the tradition made popular by the Reverend Blind Willie Johnson, all the other performers have rated plenty of ink in this space as members of one or another branch of the blues pantheon.
A few of the highlights. Skip James' rendition of his classic "I'd Rather Be The Devil That Be That Woman's Man" (also known by the title of this documentary "Devil Got My Woman"). I have gotten more mileage out of my use of that title in various political commentaries in this space than I deserve. Thanks, Skip. Son House brought out his classic "Death Letter Blues" that I always go crazy over. Howlin' Wolf is, well, Howlin' Wolf as he almost inhales the harmonica on "How Many More Years" and does an incredible cover of the old Robert Johnson/Elmore James song "Dust My Broom". Reverend Brown does a very soulful rendition of the tradtional religious blues classic "Keep Your Lamp Trimmed And Burning".
So who is left? Well Bukka White, of course. Bukka is a recent addition to my personal blues pantheon and I have spend some effort praising his work, especially his smoking guitar work on that old National Steel guitar that he makes hum. Hell, I would have walked to Mississippi to hear that. This documentary has a separate songs section so that one can replay any song that one wants to without having to replay the whole film (although I did that as well). So who got replayed? Yes Bukka on "100 Men" (with Howlin' Wolf doing the response and some unknown washboard player as backup). Yes indeed, this was the blues shootout to end all shootouts. If you want to know what it was like to see men play the blues for keeps look here.
Devil Got My Woman lyrics
You know, I'd rather be the ol' devil
Well, I'd rather be the devil
Then to be that woman' man
You know, rather be the devil
Than to be that woman' man
You know, I'm so sorry
You know, so sorry
That I ever fell in love wit' you-ooo-hoo-oo
Because you know you don't treat me
Baby, like you used ta do-hoo
You know, I laid down last night
You know, I laid down last night
And I thought to take me some rest
But my mind got to rambling
Like a wild geese from the west
You know the woman that I love
The woman that I love
I stol't her from my best friend
But you know he done got lucky
An he done got her back, again
You know, I used to cut your kindleing
You know, I used to cut your kindleing
Baby, then I made you some fire
Then I would tote all your water
Way, way, way, from the bogy brier
You know, my baby she don't drink whiskey
My baby, she don't drink no whiskey
An I know she ain't crazy about wine
Now, it was nothin' but the ol' devil
He done changed my baby's mind
You know, I could be right
You know, I could be right
Then again, I could be wrong
But it was nothin' but the ol' devil
He done got my baby
Now he done gone.
I'm So Glad lyrics
Eee, an I'm so glad
Yes sir, I'm glad
Until I just don't know
What to do
An I am tired a-weeping
I'm so tired a-moanin'
I'm so tired of groanin' for you
(guitar)
Eee, an I am so -
Yes, I am mighty glad
Until I just don't know what -
Would you be my little darlin'?
Would you be my dear?
Would you be my darlin'
Be my dear?
Then I would be mighty -
I would be mighty glad
Then I just wouldn't know
What to do
When I say, 'Coo-coo-coo'
Just like a little baby, do
I would love to have
A lovely kiss from you
Then I would be mighty -
Then I would be so -
Until I just wouldn't know -
You know, I'm tired a-weeping
I'm so tired of a-moanin'
I'm so tired of groanin' for you
(guitar)
Eee, an I am so glad
Yes, I'm so glad
Until I just don't know
What to do-ooo-woo-ooo-ooo.
Cherry Ball Blues lyrics
I love my little cherry ball
Better than I love myself
I love my cherry ball
Better than I love myself
Then if she don't love me
She can't love nobody else
Cherry ball, she quit me
Quit me in a nice, good way
Cherry ball, she quit me
Quit me in a nice, good way
You know, what it take to get her back
I carries it ev'ryday
Now, I left cherry ball standin'
Standin' in the back do' cryin'
Now, I left cherry ball
Standin' in the back do' cryin'
Of course, I feel her condition
But her trouble ain't none a-mine
She's just like a spider
She's hangin' on the wall
She's like a spider
She's hangin' on the wall
You know, she done quit me
She quit me without a cause
Now, when she left me
She left tears in my eye
Now, when she left me
She left tears in my eye
You know, that I love her
But her disposition I do dispise
Now, you can take the Southern
I'm 'on take the Sante Fe
Now, you take the Southern
I'm 'on take the Sante Fe
I'm gon' ride an gon' ramble
'Till cherry ball come back to me
She got to come on back home to me-ee-ee.
Son House - Death Letter lyrics
Lyrics to Death Letter :
I got a letter this mornin, how do you reckon it read?
It said, "Hurry, hurry, yeah, your love is dead"
I got a letter this mornin, I say how do you reckon it read?
You know, it said, "Hurry, hurry, how come the gal you love is dead?"
So, I grabbed up my suitcase, and took off down the road
When I got there she was layin on a coolin' board
I grabbed up my suitcase, and I said and I took off down the road
I said, but when I got there she was already layin on a coolin' board
Well, I walked up right close, looked down in her face
Said, the good ol' gal got to lay here 'til the Judgment Day
I walked up right close, and I said I looked down in her face
I said the good ol' gal, she got to lay here 'til the Judgment Day
Looked like there was 10,000 people standin' round the buryin' ground
I didn't know I loved her 'til they laid her down
Looked like 10,000 were standin' round the buryin' ground
You know I didn't know I loved her 'til they damn laid her down
Lord, have mercy on my wicked soul
I wouldn't mistreat you baby, for my weight in gold
I said, Lord, have mercy on my wicked soul
You know I wouldn't mistreat nobody, baby, not for my weight in gold
Well, I folded up my arms and I slowly walked away
I said, "Farewell honey, I'll see you on Judgment Day"
Ah, yeah, oh, yes, I slowly walked away
I said, "Farewell, farewell, I'll see you on the Judgment Day"
You know I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
The blues came along and drove my spirit away
I went in my room, I said I bowed down to pray
I said the blues came along and drove my spirit away
You know I didn't feel so bad, 'til the good ol' sun went down
I didn't have a soul to throw my arms around
I didn't feel so bad, 'til the good ol' sun went down
You know, I didn't have nobody to throw my arms around
I loved you baby, like I love myself
You don't have me, you won't have nobody else
I loved you baby, better than I did myself
I said now if you don't have me, I didn't want you to have nobody else
You know, it's hard to love someone that don't love you
Ain't no satisfaction, don't care what in the world you do
Yeah, it's hard to love someone that don't love you
You know it don't look like satisfaction, don't care what in the world you do
Got up this mornin', just about the break of day
A-huggin' the pillow where she used to lay
Got up this mornin', just about the break of day
A-huggin' the pillow where my good gal used to lay
Got up this mornin', feelin' round for my shoes
You know, I must-a had them old walkin' blues
Got up this mornin', feelin' round for my shoes
Yeah, you know bout that, I must-a had them old walkin' blues
You know, I cried last night and all the night before
Gotta change my way a livin', so I don't have to cry no more
You know, I cried last night and all the night before
Gotta change my way a livin', you see, so I don't have to cry no more
Ah, hush, thought I heard her call my name
If it wasn't so loud and so nice and plain
Ah, yeah
Mmmmmm
Well, listen, whatever you do
This is one thing, honey, I tried to get along with you
Yes, no tellin' what you do
I done everything I could, just to try and get along with you
Well, the minutes seemed like hours, hours they seemed like days
It seemed like my good, old gal outta done stopped her low-down ways
Minutes seemed like hours, hours they seemed like days
Seems like my good, old gal outta done stopped her low-down ways
You know, love's a hard ol' fall, make you do things you don't wanna do
Love sometimes leaves you feeling sad and blue
You know, love's a hard ol' fall, make you do things you don't wanna do
Love sometimes make you feel sad and blue
Son House - Preachin' Blues lyrics
Lyrics to Preachin' Blues :
Oh, I'm gonna get me a religion, I'm gonna join the Baptist Church
Oh, I'm gonna get me a religion, I'm gonna join the Baptist Church
I'm gonna be a Baptist preacher, and I sure won't have to work
Oh, I'm a-preach these blues, and I, I want everybody to shout
I want everybody to shout
I'm gonna do like a prisoner, I'm gonna roll my time on out
Oh, I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
Oh, I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
Till the blues come along, and they blowed my spirit1 away
Oh, I'd-a had religion, Lord, this every day
Oh, I'd-a had religion, Lord, this every day
But the womens and whiskey, well, they would not set me free
Oh, I wish I had me a heaven of my own
Hey, a heaven of my own
Till I'd give all my women a long, long, happy home
hey, I love my baby, just like I love myself
Oh, just like I love myself
Well, if she don't have me, she won't have nobody else
Son House - Pony Blues lyrics
Lyrics to Pony Blues :
Why don't you catch my pony, now saddle up my black mare?
...my pony, saddle up, up my black mare?
You know, I'm gonna find my baby, well, in the world somewhere
You know, he's a travelin' horse, an' he's too black bad
He's a travelin' pony, I declare, he's too black bad
You know, he got a gait, now, no Shetlan' ain't never had
You know, I taken him by the rein an' I led him around and 'round
I say, I taken him by the reins an' I, I led him, him 'round and 'round
You know, he ain't the best in the world, but he's the best ever been in this town
You know, he's a travelin' horse and he don't deny his name
He's a travelin' pony and he don't deny his name
You know, the way he can travel is a low-down, old, dirty shame
Why don't you come up here, pony, now come on, please let's us go
I said, "Come up, get up now, please pony, now let's us go"
Let's we saddle on down on the Gulf of, of Mexico
You know, the horse that I'm ridin', he can fox-trot, he can lope and pace
I say, the pony I'm ridin', he can fox-trot, he can lope and pace
You know, a horse with them many gaits, you know, I'm bound to win the race
He's a travelin' horse an' he don't deny his name
He's a travelin' pony, he don't deny his name
the way he can travel is a low-down, old, dirty shame
Howlin' Wolf
All songs written by Willie Dixon (Arc Music Corp- BMI) except * by Chester Burnett (Arc Music Corp- BMI) and ** by James B. Oden (Arc Music Corp- BMI)
SHAKE FOR ME
Sure look good, but it don't mean a thing to me
Sure look good, but it don't mean a thing to me
I got a hip-shaking woman, shake like a willow tree
You better wait baby, you got back a little too late.
You better wait baby, you got back a little too late.
I got a cool-shaking baby, shake like jello on a plate
When my baby walk, you know she's fine and mellow
When my baby walk, you know she's fine and mellow
Every time she stops, her flesh it shake like jello
Shake it baby, shake it for me
Shake lil' baby, shake it for me
Oh, shake it little baby, shake like a willow tree
THE RED ROOSTER
I had a little red rooster too lazy to crow for day
I had a little red rooster too lazy to crow for day
Keep everything in the barnyard upset in every way
Oh, them dogs begin to bark, hounds begin to howl
Oh, them dogs begin to bark, hounds begin to howl
Oh, Watch out strange kin people, little red rooster's on the prowl
If you see my little red rooster, please drag him on home
If you see my little red rooster, please drag him on home
There ain't no peace in the barnyard since my little red rooster's been gone
YOU'LL BE MINE
You so sweet, you so fine
How I wish you were mine
Honey I'll be your love
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You so nice, you so true
I'm so glad I love you
Honey I'll be your love
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
Tell me pretty baby is you gonna try
If you say it baby, hang on baby
till the day I die
It's so true I love you
I don't care what you do
Honey I'll be your love
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
Tell me pretty baby is you gonna try
If you say it baby, hang on baby
till the day I die
That is true I love you
I don't care what you do
Honey I'll be your love
You'll be mine
You'll be mine
You'll be mine (fade out)
WHO'S BEEN TALKIN' *
My baby caught the train, left me all alone
My baby caught the train, left me all alone
She knows I love her, she doin' me wrong
My baby bought the ticket, long as her right arm
My baby bought the ticket, long as my right arm
She says she's gonna ride long as I been from home
Well who been talking, everything that I do
Well who been talking, everything that I do
Well you is my baby, I hate to lose
Well goodbye baby, hate to see you go.
Well goodbye baby, hate to see you go.
You know I love you I'm the causin of it all.
I'm the causin' of it all.
I'm the causin' of it all.
I'm the causin' of it all.
WANG DANG DOODLE
Tell Automatic Slim , tell Razor Totin' Jim
Tell Butcher Knife Totin' Annie, tell Fast Talking Fanny
A we gonna pitch a ball, a down to that union hall
We gonna romp and tromp till midnight
We gonna fuss and fight till daylight
We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
Tell Kudu-Crawlin' Red, tell Abyssinian Ned
Tell ol' Pistol Pete, everybody gonna meet
Tonight we need no rest, we really gonna throw a mess
We gonna to break out all of the windows, we gonna kick down all the doors
We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
Tell Fats and Washboard Sam, that everybody gonna to jam
Tell Shaky and Boxcar Joe, we got sawdust on the floor
Tell Peg and Caroline Dye, we gonna have a time.
When the fish scent fill the air, there'll be snuff juice everywhere
We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
SPOONFUL
It could be a spoonsful of diamonds,
Could be a spoonful of gold,
Just a little spoon of your precious love,
Satisfies my soul.
Men lies about little,
Some of them cries about little,
Some of them dies about little,
Everything fight about little spoonful.
It could be a spoonful of coffee,
Could be a spoonful of tea,
But a little spoon of your precious love,
Good enough for me.
Men lies about that,
Some of them dies about that,
Some of them cries about that,
But everything fight about that spoonful.
That spoon, dat spoon, dat spoonful.
It could be a spoonsful of water,
Saved from the deserts sand,
But one spoon of them fortifies.
Save you from another man.
Men lies about that,
Some of them cries about that,
Some of them dies about that,
Everybody fightin' about that spoonful.
That spoon, dat spoon, dat spoonful.
BACK DOOR MAN
I am a back door man.
I am a back door man.
Well the men don't know, but the little girls understand.
When everybody's sound asleep,
I'm somewhere making my midnight creep.
Yes in the morning, the rooster crow.
Something tell me, I got to go.
I am a back door man.
I am a back door man.
Well the men don't know, but little girls understand.
They take me to the doctor. Shot full o' holes.
Nurse cried, please save the soul.
Killed him for murder, first degree.
Judge's wife cried. Let the man go free.
I am a back door man.
I am a back door man.
Well the men don't know, but little girls understand.
Stand out there. Cop's wife cried.
Don't take him down. Rather be dead.
Six feets in the ground.
When you come home you can eat pork and beans.
I eats mo' chicken any man seen
I am a back door man.
I am a back door man.
Well the men don't know, but the little girls understand.
HOWLIN' FOR MY BABY
Pretty baby. Come on home. I love you.
If you hear me howlin', calling on my darlin'.
She's hot like red pepper. Sweet like cherry wine.
I'm so glad she love me. Love me all the time.
She's my little baby, sweet as she can be.
All this love she's got, do belongs to me.
If you hear me howlin', calling on my darling.
My baby. Come on home. I love you. Come on home.
If you hear me howlin', calling on my darling.
Every time she kiss me, she makes the lights go out.
From early in the morning, she makes me jump and shout.
This bad love she got, makes me laugh and cry.
Makes me really know, that I'm too young to die.
If you hear me howlin', calling on my darling.
Come on. I love you. Pretty baby.
Reverend Pearly Brown doing Blind Willie Johnson - In My Time Of Dyin' lyrics
Lyrics to In My Time Of Dyin' :
Well, in my time of dyin', don't want nobody to moan
All I want for you to do is take my body home
Well, well, well, so I can die easy
Well, well, well, well, well, well, so I can die easy
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make my dyin' bed
Well, meet me, Jesus, meet me, meet me in the middle of the air
If these wings should fail me, Lord, won't you meet me with another pair
Well, well, well, so I can die easy
Well, well, well, well, well, well, so I can die easy
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make my dyin' bed
Lord, in my time of dyin', don't want nobody to cry
All I want you to do, is take me when I die
Well, well, well, so I can die easy
Well, well, well, well, well, well, so I can die easy
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make up
Jesus goin' make my dyin' bed
Reverend Pearly Brown doing Blind Willie Johnson - It's Nobody's Fault But Mine Lyrics to It's Nobody's Fault But Mine :
Nobody's fault but mine,
nobody's fault but mine
If I don't read it my soul be lost
I have a bible in my home,
I have a bible in my home
If I don't read it my soul be lost
Mmm, father he taught me how to read,
father he taught me how to read
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine
Ah, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine
If I don't read it my soul be lost
Ah, I have a bible of my own,
I have a bible of my own
If I don't read it my soul be lost
Oh, mother she taught me how to read,
mother she taught me how to read
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine
Ah, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine
If I don't read it my soul be lost
And sister she taught me how to read,
sister she taught me how to read
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine
Ah, mmm, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine
If I don't read it my soul'd be lost, mmm
Aberdeen Mississippi 2:33 Trk 9
Bukka White (Booker T. Washington White)
Bukka White - vocal & guitar
& Washboard Sam (Robert Brown) - wshbrd.
Recorded: March 7th & 8th 1940 Chicago, Illinois
Album: Parchman Farm Blues, Roots RTS 33055
Transcriber: Awcantor@aol.com
I was over in Aberdeen
On my way to New Orlean
I was over in Aberdeen
On my way to New Orlean
Them Aberdeen women told me
Will buy my gasoline
Hey, two little women
That I ain't ever seen
They has two little women
That I ain't never seen
These two little women
Just from New Orlean
Ooh, sittin' down in Aberdeen
With New Orlean on my mind
I'm sittin' down in Aberdeen
With New Orlean on my mind
Well, I believe them Aberdeen women
Gonna make me lose my mind, yeah
(slide guitar & washboard)
Aber-deen is my home
But the mens don't want me around
Aberdeen is my home
But the men don't want me around
They know I will take these women
An take them outta town
Listen, you Aberdeen women
You know I ain't got no dime
Oh-oh listen you women
You know'd I ain't got no dime
They been had the po' boy
All up and down.
(guitar & washboard to end)
Fixin' To Die Blues lyrics
I'm lookin' funny in my eyes
And I believe I'm fixin' to die
Believe I'm fixin' to die
I'm lookin' funny in my eyes
Now, I believe I'm fixin' to die, yeah
I know I was born to die
But I hate to leave my children around cryin'
Yeah
Just as sho' we live
It's a, sho' we's born to die
Sho' we's born to die
Just as sho's we live
Sho' we's born to die
Yeah
I know I was born to die
But I hate to leave my children around cryin'
Yeah
Yo mother treated me, children
Like I was her baby child
Was her baby child
Yo mother treated me
Like I was her baby child
That's why's I sighed
Sighed so hard
And come back home to die
Yeah
So many nights at the fireside
How my chillen's mother would cry
How my chillen's mother would cry
So many nights at the fireside
How my chillen's mother would cry
Yeah
'Cause I told the mother I had to say, goodbye
Look over yon-der
On the buryin' ground
On the buryin' ground
Look over yonder, on the burying ground
Yon' stand ten thousand
Standin' still to let me down
Yeah
(washboard & guitar)
Mother, take my chillen back
Before they let me down
Before they let me down
Mother, take my chillen back
'Fore they let me down
Ain't no need a-them screamin' an cryin'
On the graveyard ground.
(washboard & guitar to end)
Shake 'em On Down lyrics
Yes, you're a nice girl, mama
And little girl
Night before day
We gonna
Shake 'em on down
I need some time holler, now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down
Too much is debted to me
Through the week
Save these chili peppers
Some ol' rainy day, here
Best I'm hollerin', now
Ooh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down, now
Fix my supper
Let me go to bed
This white lightnin' done gone
To my head
Oh, must I holler now
Ooh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down
I ain't been in Georgia, babe
I been told
Georgia women got the best
Jellyroll
These nights time holler, now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', mama
Must I shake 'em on down
See See mama, heard
You, done-done
Made me love you, now I know
Man done coming
Best I'm hollerin', now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', mama
Must I shake 'em on down
Pretty girl's got
They don't know
What it is
Make me drunk at that old
Whiskey still
It's best I'm hollerin', now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin'
Must I shake 'em on down.
Poor Boy Long Way From Home by Bukka White Lyrics
Poor boy a long way from home
Poor boy I'm a long way from home
Poor boy I'm a long way from home
I don't have no happy home to go home to
When I left my home my baby's in my arms
When I left my home my baby's in my arms
When I left my home my baby's in my arms
She wanna know, 'Daddy, when you comin' back home?'
(guitar)
They got me down here on the farm
Got me down here on old farm
I don't have no one to come and go my bail
Baby, I wanna come back home to you
(guitar)
Sorry, baby I can't call you over the phone
Sorry, I can't call you over the phone
'Cause they got me down here long distance phone
But I can't call you baby over the phone.
(guitar to end)
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