Happy Birthday Keith Richards- *The Hoochie Coochie Man- The Blues of Muddy Waters - Muddy Becomes Muddy

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Muddy Waters in performance mode.

CD Review

Muddy Becomes Muddy

Muddy Waters: First Recording Sessions, 1941-1946, In Chronological Order, Document Records, 1991

I have spent very little ink over the past year as I go through some of the great acoustic and electric blues guitars and performers on the iconic Muddy Waters. I have explained elsewhere some of my reasoning for this as well as other personal preferences that I wanted to highlight first. Nevertheless when all is said and done no one who loves the blues in its various incantations can avoid the influence and importance of Muddy’s work.

I will argue here that this little compilation of early, mainly pre-Chicago electric blues Muddy is a worthy historical document on two counts. First, because it is in chronological order it shows the evolution of Muddy’s style from the traditional country blues sound of the Delta that was becoming passé. Secondly, because some of this pre-Chicago sound is, to this reviewer’s ear at least, better than many of his later pieces. As evidence I would point to the pure jam efforts on the classic “Joe Turner’s Blues” and “Pearlie May Blues”. Then move down to “Mean Spider Blues” and “Come To Me Baby”. None of these are in the league of “Mannish Boy” when he got it going but I think this is worthy Muddy. The argument continues.

*Legends Of The Country Blues- Bukka White

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Clip Of Bukka White doing "Poor Boy Long Way From Home". Wow.

DVD REVIEW

I have, as yet, not been able to find a copy of Bukka White's work. I am looking for something that has his classic (and fantastic) "Abedeen Missisippi Woman" on it. Until then I will place a previous review of White and fellow country blues musician Son House.

Kicking The Country Blues- Son House and Bukka White

Son House and Bukka White: Masters Of The Country Blues, hosted by Taj Mahal, Yazoo Videos, 1991

I have reviewed the music of country blues legend Son House elsewhere in this space (and above in this entry) and expected to review this documentary solely on the basis of a comment there. I mentioned there that in 1963 Son House, Skip James and Mississippi John Hurt performed at the Newport Folk Festival, a historic Delta blues occasion. One of the vivid cinematic scenes from that event was Son House flailing his National steel guitar, trance like, on the classic "Death Letter Blues". I assumed that I was going to see that performance here. That was not the case. However, with solid introductions to both performers by blues legend Taj Mahal we are treated to a little different look at Son House and a new look at Bukka White.

The Son House segments here concentrate on the lifelong tension between a career in preaching, Baptist style of course, and ‘doin’ the devil’s work’ of singing the blues (and along the way doing a little whiskey drinking, womanizing and hell-raising). House is interviewed here trying to lay out his philosophy, his theology and his acknowledgement that the whiskey and women mainly got the best of him. The actual musical presentation is rather short and religiously oriented- "Death Letter Blues", "John The Revelator" and the like. If you want Son House at his most musical you will have to look elsewhere, mainly to his CDs. If you want to know the man behind the music a little this is for you.

Enough of Son House here though. The real story of this documentary is that the lesser known (at least to me and others that I know who follow the blues) Bukka White steals the show in his segments. Not only is he a better and more versatile guitar player than Son House but he jumps with his musical compositions here. Let us leave it, for now, that if you want to get introduced to Brother White then this is a very good way to start. I might add that in a segment of The Howlin’ Wolf Story that I am also currently in the process of reviewing that White also steals the show from the legendary Wolf with his guitar playing. That said, the reader can expect that Brother White will shortly be getting an individual entry in this space. Yes, indeed, he will.

Bukka White - Aberdeen, Mississippi blues Lyrics
Album: Parchman Farm Blues

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)

A Juke Joint Saga- A Review Of The Film “Honeydripper”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of the trailer for "Honeydripper".
DVD Review

Honeydripper, starring Danny Glover, Anarchist Connection Productions, 2007

In the recent past in this space I have gone on and on about the old country blues performed after a hard, hard week’s work on a Saturday in the local ‘juke joints’ down in the southern United States in places like rural Mississippi and Alabama before World War II. Of course, then the music took the road north, especially after the war and got electrified to fit the needs of the new black migration that was heading up river to find work (and get the hell away from Jim Crow) in the newly unionized (in most cases) industrial plants. But what about those left behind, or those who did not or could not go north? Or just wanted to, or had to, keep away from the cities with their treacherous ways? Answering those questions, in a nutshell, forms the plot line to this entertaining little saga about the trials and tribulations of modernization, blues version.

Okay, here is the plot line. A struggling juke joint owner (also the house piano player), played by star Danny Glover, is financially in deep trouble and needs a quick fix to keep the wolves from the door. Nothing seems to be working for the man, especially when a regionally well-known early R&B hot shot who is suppose to resolve all Danny’s financial problems is a no show. Not to worry, an itinerant R&B wannabe just happens to ride the blinds into town, gets himself into trouble (mainly for being black while seeking a work-some things never change), and in the end is Danny’s salvation by performing a successful Saturday gig and saving the day.

Along the way we also get small glimpse of black rural life including, naturally, the ardors of plantation life, -that means cotton picking, the tough times of small time musical talents, the role of the religious tent revival in rural life and needless to say, the confinements, large and small, of Jim Crow, physically, mentally and spiritually. I have reviewed plenty of film documentaries in this space that touch on the blues and the social milieu that it derived from. While those vehicles still give a historically more accurate account of what went into create that special blues idiom just before it got electrified this film is not a bad take on what that was all about- a little prettified up to be sure.

*Walk Right In Is Right- The Blues Up Close And Country

Click On The Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bukka White Performing "Panama Limited". Wow!

CD Review

When The Sun Goes Down: Walk Right In, various artists, BMG Music, 2002

In the course of the past year or so I have highlighted any number of blues CD compilations as I have tried to search for the roots of the American musical experience, and in the process retraced some of the nodal points of my own musical interests. I never tire of saying that I have been formed, and reformed by the blues so that when I came upon this “When The Sun Goes Down” series (a very apt expression of the right time for the playing of the blues) I grabbed each copy with both hands. In one series, the producers, as an act of love without question, have gathered up the obscure, the forgotten, the almost forgotten and the never to be forgotten voices that “spoke” to me in my youth and started me on that long ago love affair with the blues. I have hardly been alone on that journey but it is nice to see that some people with the resources, the time, money and energy have seen fit to honor our common past. Each CD reviewed here, and any future ones that I can get my hands on for there are more than the three I am reviewing today, is chock full of memorable performances by artists who now will, through the marvels of modern high technology, gain a measure of justified immortality.

Here is the cream. As always “Big Joe” Williams holds forth on “Baby, Please Don’t Go”. The only question is how many strings does the guitar that he is using on this track have? I know it isn’t six. That’s too easy. Moving on, no anthology of the country blues is complete without a Lead Belly song. Although he has never been on the top of my country blues list here his “Ham an’ Eggs” and, of course, the jumping “Midnight Special” are well done. Hey, I only said he wasn’t only MY A-list not that he wasn’t a great and worthy blues legend. Big Bill Broonzy is definitely on my A-list and he shows off here with “Mississippi River Blues”. A real treat in this compilation is the inclusion of Milton Brown and His Musical Brownies doing “Garbage Man Blues” Why? Well, at one time, before his early death in an automobile accident, he was a real challenger to Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys for the title of "King of Western Swing”. Moreover, unlike my questioning the placement of yodeler Jimmy Rodgers as a blues man (in another CD in this series) Milton Brown fits right in here.

All hail Bukka White. I have been raving about my relatively recent “discovery” of Brother White every since I saw him on a Stephan Grossman DVD musical documentary that also included Son House. Old Bukka blew House, that well-respected and seminal figure in country blues away. Here Bukka holds forth on the old railroad blues tune “The Panama Limited”, a song that I first heard way back in the day when it was covered by folk revivalist Tom Rush on one of his early albums. Tommy Johnson, as on a previous CD in this series, stands out with “Cold Drink Of Water Blues”. No wonder blues woman Rory Block, a key figure in the modern “discovery” of his work, chose to cover this classic.

Two exceptional treats here are the incomparable Paul Robeson reaching down for “Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child”. Nothing I could say here would give an adequate expression to the voice of Brother Robeson. We may have been left wing political opponents but when the deal went down he could sings circles around anyone else, especially with his primordial emotive powers. All I can say is that you have to hear this one. The other treat is a genuine piece of black cultural history, the weaving of politics and religion that, in a pre-Obama age (and maybe even now) drove one aspect of black musical expression. Here we have the Reverend J.M. Gates doing “Somebody’s Been Stealin’” (along with some members of his congregation). If you want to hear what bluesman Blind Willie Johnson and, let’s say, a black politician like Adam Clayton Powell fed off of in order to learn to “speak’ in the cadence of the black masses in the first third of the 20th century listen up.


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)

*The "Earthshaker" Is In The House- The Blues Of Koko Taylor

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Koko Taylor Doing "Wang Dang Doodle". Wow!

CD REVIEW

Koko Taylor: The Earthshaker, Koko Taylor, Alligator Records, 1978.

In the modern era of blues, mainly electric blues, say from the post-World War II period women blues singers, especially black women blues singers, are probably underrepresented. One thinks of “Big Mama” Thornton, Ruth Brown, Etta James, and the artist under review, Koko Taylor. There are other lesser lights but not nearly the numbers that I can, and have, recounted in this space from the 1920’s and 1930’s. Nevertheless for sheer energy, volume and flat out “good time” dancing blues Ms. Taylor will do quite well, against male or female. The title of this CD, “The Earthshaker” is not mistaken or out of place.

That said, I remember in one of the segments of Martin Scorsese six-part PBS tribute to the blues a few years back that when Ms. Taylor was interviewed concerning the influence that Chicago’s Chess Records and its management, the Chess brothers (the guys that discovered her), had on the blues scene she was less that complimentary with the “shake” that that pair had given her. The whole question of the exploitation of black blues talent (and not only of that musical genre) deserves separate coverage and is beyond what I want to look at in this CD. However, I would point out, there is probably more truth that meets the eye concerning the Koko’s gripes about proper promotion, accreditation and payment (in short, the correct distribution of the dough, okay) and that Koko was not just being abstruse in the matter. That may also explain, a little at least, the dearth of women blues singers that come readily to mind.

But enough of that, for now. Here Koko belts out her standards, accompanied by a fine back up band made up of well-known, and in the case of “Pinetop” Perkins on keyboards legendary, musicians including Johnny Moore and Sammy Lawhorn on the guitars. Nice right, for those who know those names? Hits here include the Willie Dixon classic “Spoonful” that Howlin’ Wolf ripped up. Well, Koko does the same here. My favorite on this CD is the slow mournful blues “Walking the Back Streets” (needless to say crying in those back streets about a two-timing man). But so much for my favorite because the reason you get this CD is Koko’s signature Willie Dixon classic “Wang Dang Doodle”. Howlin’ Wolf covered that tune as well. Koko wins that duel though. Listen up.

Wang Dang Doodle
Howlin' Wolf, Koko Taylor

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 etc.

by Willie Dixon


SPOONFUL

Could fill spoons full of diamonds,
Could fill spoons full of gold.
Just a little spoon of your precious love
Will satisfy my soul.

Men lies about it.
Some of them cries about it.
Some of them dies about it.
Everything's a-fightin' about the spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.

Could fill spoons full of coffee,
Could fill spoons full of tea.
Just a little spoon of your precious love;
Is that enough for me?

Chorus

Could fill spoons full of water,
Save them from the desert sands.
But a little spoon of your forty-five
Saved you from another man.

by Willie Dixon

Let The Good Times Roll

Hey everybody, let's have some fun
You only live for once
And when you're dead you're done
So let the good times roll, let the good times roll
And live a long long
I don't care if you are young or old no no,
\get together and let the good times roll

Don't stand there moaning, talking trash
If you wanna have some fun,
You'd better go out and spend some cash
And let the good time roll
Let the good time roll
I don't care if you young or old,
Get together and let the good times roll

Don't stand there moaning, talking trash
If you wanna have some fun,
You'd better go out and spend some cash
And let the good time roll
Let the good time roll
I don't care if you young or old,
Get together and let the good times roll

Hey mister landlord, lock up all the doors
When the police comes around,
Tell them Johnny's coming down
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll
And Lord I don't care if you young or old,
That's good enough to let the good times roll

Hey everybody!
Tell everybody !
That B.B. and Bobby's in town
I got a dollar and a quarter
And I'm just raring to clown
Don't let nobody play me cheap
I got fifty cents to know that I'm gonna keep
Let the good times roll
I don't care if you young or old
Let's get together and let the good times roll

From The Pen Of Joshua Lawrence Breslin- The Blues Is…, Part I

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Howlin’Wolf performing Killing Floor.

CD Review

Cannon’s Jug Stompers: The Complete Works, The Cannon Jug Stompers, Yazoo Records, 1989

The blues is, praise be… He had just barely gotten done with his work for the day, his sun up to sun down work helping Brother Barnes shoe the horses, on Mister’s cotton boll massive ten thousand acre delta plantation, than his father took him aside and asked, really ordered, him to wash up and get ready to go over to Lancer Lane. The words Lancer Lane made him jump for joy inside, for this Saturday night he would finally, finally, get to play his new guitar, well no really new for that instrument had been passed down to his father from who knows when, maybe back to pharaoh times when those old pyramid slaves needed something to take their minds off their back-breaking work on their relax minute, in front of a real crowd at the Lancer Lane juke joint and not just before his father, his siblings, and a few stray cats at Mister’s company store.

No, he was stepping up in the world, the world that mattered, the world of those rough-hewed, hard drinking daddies (and their clinking women, praise be) that populated the juke house on Saturday night (and paid penance, serious penance at nearby Lancer Lane Lord’s Work Baptist on Sunday morning, many times sliding directly from one site to the other, smoothly if stinking a little of sweat and hard, hard Sonny Boy’s golden liquor), who would decide whether he had the stuff his father thought he had. And decide it in the only way such things were decided, by throwing dollars, real dollars, at him if he was good and broken whisky bottles (or, if tight for dough and so bought their whisky by the jar, jars) if he panned. He had asked his father repeatedly since he had turned sixteen to let him accompany him on his journeys to Lancer Lane (as performer and as, ah, imbiber), but his father maybe knowing the wisdom of sheltering the boy from those whisky bottles and jars if things didn’t work out just like his father, bless him, before him had held off until he was sure, or fairly sure of the night’s outcome. What sonny boy did not know was that father had relented as much because he was in need of an extra pair of hands in case Big Nig Fingers showed up that night as that he was ready. The nature of the dispute between Big Nig Fingers and his father was simply enough explained, a woman, rather Sonny Boy’s woman, Lucille, and her roving eyes, roving eyes that landed, allegedly landed, on his father.

A few hours later, washed up, dressed up in a clean work shirt and pants he

and his father having walked the two dusty miles from Mister’s plantation arrived at the juke house, really nothing but a cabin, a log cabin, belonging to Sonny Boy Jackson who used the place as a front for his golden liquor sales as well. (Yes, that Sonny Boy before he went to Clarksville and began the road to some local fame as the best harmonica in 1920s delta Mississippi, even getting a record contract from Bee Records when he was “discovered” by one of the agents that they had sent out scouring the country for talent for their race record division.) Now, like most cabins, there was no electricity, hell, nobody practically except Mister (and the Captain, that deduction crazy Captain) had electricity, or a reason to use it just a few chairs, tables, a counter to belly up to for whiskey jar orders (bottles were sold out back away from prying eyes), and for the occasion Sonny Boy had a small stage jerry-rigged so the entertainment would not get pushed around too much when things got rowdy, as they always did, later in the evening.

That night he had a surprise coming, or rather two. His father, taking no chances, had arranged to have a few members of the Andersonville Sheiks from up the road, who would later in the decade, some of them anyway, go on to form the Huntsville Sheiks and also get that coveted record contract from Bee Records, to back his son up. So he was going to have a real ensemble, a jug player, a harp player (harmonica, okay) and a washboard man, his father to play banjo (if he was sober enough, and while that was in question most of the night he held up, held up well enough to slide over to Lord’s Work Baptist for the eight o’clock service even if stinking of sweat and liquor). Papa had done right by him, Big Nig Fingers and his Lucille (to his father ‘s dismay) had decided to take a night off so he would need no cut knife help, and he blasted the place with his strange riffs, riffs going back to some homeland Africa time. Proof: twenty seven dollars as his share of the house.

Oh, the second surprise. Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy Barnes, Miss Lucy Barnes, a sweet sixteen going on thirty, a dark skinned beauty, all cuddles and curves, the daughter his boss, the plantation blacksmith, had taken notice of him and kept sending small jars of Sonny Boy’s golden liquor his way which just made him play more madly, hell, let’s call it by its right name, he played the devil’s work like he was the devil himself. They too were seen sneaking into that eight o’clock service at Lord’s Work’s Baptist a little sweaty and stinking of liquor, just in case you wanted to know.

*For Those In Search Of A Blues Primer- The Best Of The Mississippi Blues- A CD Review

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Muddy Waters performing I've Got My Mojo Working.

CD Review

The Best Of Mississippi Blues, various artists, Fuel, 2000
Okay, blues aficionados that you are you have heard it all, right? From the old Delta country blues artists who first gave form to the genre, the likes of Charly Patton, Son House, and Mississippi Fred McDowell, through to the heyday of the women touch blues singers like Bessie Smith and Ida Mack, through to the transformative figure like Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters who turned the blues from acoustic (of necessity for lack of electricity) Saturday night juke joint stuff to the electric jiving and arriving hot Midwest urban Saturday night stuff.

And then after you had the basics down you went to the second tier; those who make the blues more sophisticated like Billie Holiday, and other later interpreters, some black, some white, some rock-influenced, some by jazz, and other by various revivalist trends. And in order to get you “doctorate” in blues-ology you delved into the back streets, the singers for nickels and dimes; the chittlin’ circuit where many performers got their start (and too many their finish) with their endless bowling alley, small bar, small restaurant clienteles; the world music blues scene of Tex-Mex, Cajun, and Western swing stuff. And then for post-doctoral work, a look at those who currently keep that now slender tradition alive out on those mean streets and small clubs.

Okay, Mister or Ms. Aficionado, you have some “cred” but how about those of us who are clueless, or just searching for the sound that keeps beating in the back of our heads. Give us a primer. Well, this is a roundabout way of telling you that this little CD under review will give you a sampler of some of the trends that I have mentioned above, especially of the first generation country and electric urban blues milieu. There are others out there but you are on your own to dig the stuff out so that you too can be a “doctor”.

Stick outs here include: Mississippi John Hurt on Casey Jones; Tommy Johnson on Canned Heat Blues; the legendary rocker, Ike Turner on Matchbox, and the also legendary Muddy Waters on I’ve Got My Mojo Working. But, really this whole compilation, as befits an all-star lineup, could have been included.

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By-Rory Gallagher's "The Banker's Blues"

Click on the title to link a YouTube film clip of Rory Gallagher performing The Banker's Blues.

In this series, presented under the headline Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here. Markin.
*********

Markin comment on The Banker's Blues:

Hey, I am only the messenger on this one. I take no personal, political or social responsibility for the lyrics. Well, except maybe a little on the personal front with my own lovin' companion. Okay? Also I was looking for Big Bill Broonzy's version of the song but couldn't find it.

Rory Gallagher
Banker's Blues lyrics

If you got money in the bank,
Don't let your woman draw it out,
Cause she'll take all your money...and,
Then she'll kick you out.

I once had money and a fast Cadillac car,
But I made one big mistake, let my baby know where they are,
And she took all my possessions...and,
Then she threw me out.

Now young men, heed my advice,
I'll tell you once, I may not tell you twice,
Keep an eye on your old lady anytime that she goes steppin' out.

There's only one woman that I hate more,
You know who that is, why that's my mother-in-law,
My baby's pretty fast but her mother's even faster on the draw.

My baby, my little baby I believe she's gonna jump'n shout,
And I walk down to the bank,
And I draw all of my money out.

Well you got money in the bank,
Don't let your woman draw it out,
Cause she'll take all your money...and,
Then she'll throw you out.

*More, Much More Than All Right-Post- World War II Blues Up Close And Personal

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Sunnyland Slim (and Sonny Boy Williamson) Performing "Come Home Baby".

CD Review

When The Sun Goes Down: That’s All Right, various artists, BMG Music, 2002

In the course of the past year or so I have highlighted any number of blues CD compilations as I have tried to search for the roots of the American musical experience, and in the process retraced some of the nodal points of my own musical interests. I never tire of saying that I have been formed, and reformed by the blues so that when I came upon this “When The Sun Goes Down” series (a very apt expression of the right time for the blues to be played) I grabbed each copy with both hands. In one series, the producers, as an act of love without question, have gathered up the obscure, the forgotten, the almost forgotten and the never to be forgotten voices that “spoke” to me in my youth and started me on that long ago love affair with the blues. I have hardly been alone on that journey but it is nice to see that some people with the resources, the time, money and energy have seen fit to honor our common past. Each CD reviewed here, and any future ones that I can get my hands on, for there are more than the three I am reviewing today, is chock full of memorable performances by artists who now will, through the marvels of modern high technology, gain a measure of justified immortality.

Here is the cream. The name Big Maceo has not come up previously in this space. Here is his introduction, “Worried Life Blues”, Needless to say, as a blues man much covered by other better known musicians like John Lee Hooker, he will be receiving more attention in the future. Sunnyland Slim, here performing “Illinois Central” is another figure worthy of more ink. As is “Big Boy” Crudup doing an amazing version of “That’s All Right”. Yes, that is the one that Elvis made famous, but that is a separate story. The first time I heard “Look On Yonder Wall” it was done by Elmore James. Here the well-regarded Junior Gillum does a nice job, although I still prefer Elmore’s version. By the way, at one this song was in contention as the root source of rock and roll. We know now that “Shake, Rattle and Roll” is more worthy of that title but this one is not far behind. Tampa Red on “When Things Go Wrong With You”, Crudup on another classic “Dust My Broom” (showing some of both Robert Johnson’s and Elmore James’ versions), Roosevelt Sykes on “Anytime Is The Right Time” and an early Little Richard tune round out this compilation that is centered more on works representative of the post-World War II electrification of the blues than the previously reviewed CDs in this series. Arguably this compilation as a whole can serve both as prime examples of the R&B branch of the blues and the foundation for rock and roll, See what you think?

"Illinois Blues - Sunnyland Slim"

Boys, I'm walkin' an thinkin'
Woo-ooo!
But I ain't doin' myself no good
Woo-ooo!
I'm walkin' an thinkin'
Woo!
But I ain't doin' myself no good
Yoo-hoo-hoo!
The one I love
Woo-ooo!
Done left the neighborhood

Well, I hate to hear
Woo!
That Illinois Central, blow
Woo!
I hate to hear
Woo!
That Illinois Central, blow
Woo-hoo!
It fly on just like
Woo!
It won't be back no mo-oh-ore'

'Well, alright let me hear ya, Mr. Davis'
'Play it for me one time'
'You know what I'm talkin' about'

'Lord, have mercy, man have it'
'Lord, have mercy!'

'That low part, Mr. Ransom
You know what I'm talkin' about'
'Play it, man'
'Ah, mercy, mercy, mercy!'

'That makes me get homesick
sho' enough, now'

I wanna tell you people
Woo-ooo!
What the Illinois Central will do
Woo-hoo!
I wanna tell you people
Woo!
What the Illinois Central will do
Woo-hoo!
It'll steal your woman
Woo-hoo!
And blow back after you

I have tried to give up
Woo!
But it's a hard old thing to do
(I'll show you!)
Woo-hoo!
I have tried to give the girl up
Woo!
But it's a hard old thing to do

Woo!
So, I just keep on drinkin', John Davis
Woo!
Because I just can't believe it's through.
~

*Singing The Blues For His Lord- The Reverend Gary Davis Is On Stage

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Reverend Gary Davis Performing On Pete Seeger's "Rainbow Quest".

CD Review

Twelve Gates To The City: Reverend Gary Davis: In Concert 1962-1966, Shanachie Records, 2000

I have mentioned many of the old time black male country blues singers in this space, for example, Son House, Bukka White and Skip James. I have also mentioned the close connection between this rural music, the routine of life on the farm (mainly the Mississippi Delta plantations or sharecropping) and simple religious expression in their works. The blues singer under review meets all of those criteria and more. The Reverend Gary Davis, although not as well known in the country blues pantheon, has had many of his songs covered by the denizens of the folk revival of the 1960's and some rock groups, like The Grateful Dead, looking for a connection with their roots. Thus, by one of the ironies of fate his tradition lives on in popular music. I would also mention here that his work was prominently displayed in one of the Masters Of The Blues documentaries that I have reviewed in this space. That placement is insurance that that the Reverend's musical virtuosity is of the highest order. As an instrumentalist he steals the show in that film. Enough said.

Stick out songs here are the much-covered "Samson and Delilah", "Cocaine Blues" (from when it was legal, of course), "Twelve Keys To The City" and the gospelly "Blow Gabriel" and “Who Shall Deliver Poor Me”

Some Biographical Information From the Back Cover

Durham, North Carolina in the 1930's was a moderate sized town whose economy was driven by tobacco farming. The tobacco crop acted somewhat as a buffer against the worst ravages of the Depression. During the fall harvest, with its attendant tobacco auctions, there was a bit more money around, and that, naturally, attracted musicians. Performers would drift in from the countryside and frequently took up residence and stayed on. Two master musicians who made Durham their home, whose careers extended decades until they become literally world famous, were Reverend Gary Davis and Sonny Terry.

REV. GARY DAVIS

Reverend Gary Davis was one of the greatest traditional guitarists of the century. He could play fluently in all major keys and improvise continually without repetition. His finger picking style was remarkably free, executing a rapid treble run with his thumb as easily as with his index finger and he had great command of many different styles, representing most aspects of black music he heard as a young man at he beginning of the century. Beyond his blues-gospel guitar, Davis was equally adept at ragtime, marches, breakdowns, vaudeville songs, and much more. Born in Lawrence County, South Carolina in 1895, Davis was raised by his grandmother, who made his first guitar for him. Learning from relatives and itinerant musicians, he also took up banjo and harmonica. His blindness was probably due to a congenital condition. By the time he was a young man he was considered among the elite musicians in his area of South Carolina where, as in most Southern coastal states, clean and fancy finger picking with emphasis on the melody was the favored style. Sometime in the early 1950's, Davis started a ministry and repudiated blues. In 1935, he recorded twelve gospel songs that rank among the masterpieces of the genre. In 1944, he moved to New York where he continued his church work, and sometimes did some street singing in Harlem. By the early 1960's, with the re-emergence of interest in traditional black music, Davis finally received the recognition and prominences he so richly deserved.

*******


- Blow, Gabriel, Blow Lyrics


[RENO]
Brothers and sisters, we are here tonight to fight the devil...
Do you hear that playin'?

[COMPANY]
Yes, we hear that playin'!

[RENO]
Do you know who's playin'?

[COMPANY]
No, who is that playin'?

[RENO]
Well, it's Gabriel, Gabriel playin'!
Gabriel, Gabriel sayin'
"Will you be ready to go
When I blow my horn?"

Oh, blow, Gabriel, blow,
Go on and blow, Gabriel, blow!
I've been a sinner, I've been a scamp,
But now I'm willin' to trim my lamp,
So blow, Gabriel, blow!

Oh, I was low, Gabriel, low,
Mighty low, Gabriel, low.
But now since I have seen the light,
I'm good by day and I'm good by night,
So blow, Gabriel, blow!

Once I was headed for hell,
Once I was headed for hell;
But when I got to Satan's door
I heard you blowin' on your horn once more,
So I said, "Satan, farewell!"

And now I'm all ready to fly,
Yes, to fly higher and higher!
'Cause I've gone through brimstone
And I've been through the fire,
And I purged my soul
And my heart too,
So climb up the mountaintop
And start to blow, Gabriel, blow

[ALL]
Come on and blow, Gabriel, blow!

[RENO]
I want to join your happy band
And play all day in the Promised Land.
So blow, Gabriel, blow!
Come on you scamps, get up you sinners!
You're all too full of expensive dinners.
Stand up on your lazy feet and sing!

[ALL]
Blow, Gabriel, blow, (Blow, Gabriel!)
Go on and blow, Gabriel, blow. (Blow, Gabriel!)
I've been a sinner, I've been a scamp,
But now I'm willin' to trim my lamp,
So blow, Gabriel, blow.

I was low, Gabriel, low, (Low, Gabriel!)
Mighty low, Gabriel, low.
But now since that I have seen the light
I'm good by day and I'm good by night
So blow, Gabriel, blow.

[RENO]
Once I was headed for hell,
Once I was headed for hell;
But when I got to Satan's door
I heard you blowin' on your horn once more,
So I said, "Satan, farewell!"

And now I'm all ready to fly,
Yes, to fly higher and higher!
'Cause I've gone through brimstone
And I've been through the fire,
And I purged my soul
And my heart too,
So climb up the mountaintop
And start to blow, Gabriel, blow

[ALL]
Go on and blow, Gabriel, blow!

[RENO]
I want to join your happy band
And play all day in the Promised Land.
So blow, Gabriel!

[ALL]
Go on and...
Blow, Gabriel, blow
Blow, Gabriel, blow
Blow, Gabriel, blow
I wanna join your happy band
And play all day in the Promised Land,
So blow, Gabriel, blow, Gabriel, blow, Gabriel, blow!

*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

***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)