This space is dedicated to the proposition that we need to know the history of the struggles on the left and of earlier progressive movements here and world-wide. If we can learn from the mistakes made in the past (as well as what went right) we can move forward in the future to create a more just and equitable society. We will be reviewing books, CDs, and movies we believe everyone needs to read, hear and look at as well as making commentary from time to time. Greg Green, site manager
Not Fade Away on YouTube Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of the Rolling Stones performing "Street Fighting Man". Yes, indeed.
CD Review
The London Years, 3 CD compilation, The Rolling Stones, Abkco Records, 1989
Hey, in 2009 no one, including this reviewer, NEEDS to comment on the fact that The Rolling Stones, pound for pound, have over forty plus years earned their place as the number one band in the rock `n' roll pantheon. Still, it is interesting to listen once again to the guys when they were at the height of their musical powers (and as high, most of the time, as Georgia pines). This album from their most creative period from 1964 to 1971, moreover, unlike let us say Bob Dylan who has produced more creative work for longer, is the `golden era" of the Stone Age. While this CD compilation has a fistful (or two) of "greatest hits" from this period and there are no really bad tracks here but the stick outs are "Jumpin' Jack Flash", "Sympathy For The Devil"( as always), "19th Nervous Breakdown", "Little Red Rooster", "Ruby Tuesday "Street Fighting Man" and "You Can't Always Get What You Want". Ain't that the truth on that last one. And on and on. For aficionados you will have all their early hits in one spot, for the novice you get a full sense of their golden age.
Street Fighting Man Lyrics
(M. Jagger/K. Richards)
Ev'rywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy
'Cause summer's here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
But what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock 'n' roll band
'Cause in sleepy London town
There's just no place for a street fighting man
No
Hey! Think the time is right for a palace revolution
'Cause where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well, then what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock 'n' roll band
'Cause in sleepy London town
There's just no place for a street fighting man
No
Hey! Said my name is called disturbance
I'll shout and scream, I'll kill the king, I'll rail at all his servants
Well, what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock 'n' roll band
'Cause in sleepy London town
There's just no place for a street fighting man
No
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of The Rolling Stones performing "Little Red Rooster".
CD Review
RollingStonesFlashpoint: The Urban Jungle World Tour, The Rolling Stones, Virgin Records, 1989
I will repeat here what I have mentioned in other reviews of the early work of The Rolling Stones…. “Hey, in 2009 no one, including this reviewer, NEEDS to comment on the fact that The Rolling Stones, pound for pound, have over forty plus years earned their place as the number one band in the rock ‘n’ roll pantheon.”
Previously in this space I have reviewed various Stones compilations that featured one or more combination of their “greatest hits”. In this world tour CD we get those well-known and deservedly-covered hits and a few new pieces composed for the tour but mainly we get The Stones live, which is always a treat when one see the group in person or, as here, through a recording made up of tracks, presumably the best ones, from various stops on this 1989 tour. Stands out here are the Willie Dixon classic made famous by Howlin’ Wolf, "Little Red Rooster”, their “Factory Girl” and “Sympathy For The Devil” and a couple of new (at least to me) tunes, “Highwire” and “Sex Drive”.
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of The Rolling Stones performing "Street Fighting Man".
CD Review
Hot Rocks 1964-1971, The Rolling Stones, 2CD set, ABKCO Records, 1986
Hey, in 2009 no one, including this reviewer, NEEDS to comment on the fact that The Rolling Stones, pound for pound, have over forty plus years earned their place as the number one band in the rock ‘n’ roll pantheon. Still, it is interesting to listen once again to the guys when they were at the height of their musical powers (and as high, most of the time, as Georgia pines). This period from 1964 to 1971, moreover, unlike let us say Bob Dylan who has produced more creative work for longer, is the ‘golden era” of the Stone Age.
While this CD has the rather definitive selection of “greatest hits’ from this period so there are no bad tracks here the stick outs are “Gimme Shelter”( as always), “Street Fighting Man”, “Sympathy For The Devil”, “Under My Thumb” and “Ruby Tuesday”
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.
Forty Licks, The Rolling Stones, ABKCO Records, 2002
I will repeat here what I have mentioned in other reviews of the early work of The Rolling Stones…. “Hey, in 2009 no one, including this reviewer, NEEDS to comment on the fact that The Rolling Stones, pound for pound, have over forty plus years earned their place as the number one band in the rock ‘n’ roll pantheon. Still, it is interesting to listen once again to the guys when they were at the height of their musical powers (and as high, most of the time, as Georgia pines)”. This “greatest hits” compilation takes us back to the days, before the heavier rock sound but right up their in competition with the Beatles for the ‘soul’ of the youthful rock fans of the 1960’s. Some of these songs are classic of the rock ‘n’ roll song book others are just faded memories. The cover of “Not Fade Away”,their own “Satisfaction”, “The Last Time”, "Gimme Shelter", Sympathy For The Devil" and “19th Nervous Breakdown” will endure as long as people need rock ‘n’ roll to get through the day. "Street Fighting",“Tell Me” and “Play With Fire” are more for youthful memories. The new stuff added for this tour promotion is rather same old-same old. It's the old stuff you want this for, especially for beginners.
UNDER MY THUMB (M. Jagger/K. Richards)
Under my thumb The girl who once had me down Under my thumb The girl who once pushed me around
It's down to me The difference in the clothes she wears Down to me, the change has come, She's under my thumb
Ain't it the truth babe?
Under my thumb The squirmin' dog who's just had her day Under my thumb A girl who has just changed her ways
It's down to me, yes it is The way she does just what she's told Down to me, the change has come She's under my thumb Ah, ah, say it's alright
Under my thumb A siamese cat of a girl Under my thumb She's the sweetest, hmmm, pet in the world
It's down to me The way she talks when she's spoken to Down to me, the change has come, She's under my thumb Ah, take it easy babe Yeah
It's down to me, oh yeah The way she talks when she's spoken to Down to me, the change has come, She's under my thumb Yeah, it feels alright
Under my thumb Her eyes are just kept to herself Under my thumb, well I I can still look at someone else
It's down to me, oh that's what I said The way she talks when she's spoken to Down to me, the change has come, She's under my thumb Say, it's alright.
Say it's all... Say it's all...
Take it easy babe Take it easy babe Feels alright Take it, take it easy babe.
Click On Title To Link YouTube's Film Clip Of Willie Dixon Performing " Blues You Can't Lose".
DVD Review
Willie Dixon: I Am The Blues, Willie Dixon, Quantum Leap Productions, 2002
Readers of this space will, probably, already be familiar with the name of Willie Dixon if one is the slightest bit familiar with Chicago blues, Chess Records, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf or even The Rolling Stones’ cover of his “Little Red Rooster”. In this one hour presentation you get a very quick overview of his major songs, his take on the ups and downs of the blues as a genre and his performance of a number of his classics written while at Chess and at other venues. Outstanding is his classic “I’ve Got The Blues” and the song that Koko Taylor and Howlin’ Wolf made famous, “Wang Dang Doodle”. This is a serious piece of blues, especially Chicago blues, history by a man at, or near, the center of it in its hey day as he nears the end of his own career (1984).
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of John Lee Hooker and Bonnie Raiit performing "I'm In The Mood For Love". WOW!
DVD Review-August 18, 2008
Come See About Me: John Lee Hooker-The Definitive DVD, Eagle Rock Productions, 1992
In a recent entry in this space on July 18, 2009 entitled, "The Boogie Chillen” Man- The Boogie Blues Of John Lee Hooker", I made the following comments about this seminal blues artist:
“I have poured out kudos to the likes of Howlin’ Wolf, Skip James, Son House, Bukka White and an assortment of other legendary male acoustic and electric blues guitar players in this space. I have not, until now, mentioned the name of the legendary blues artist John Lee Hooker, although he belongs up there with those other above-mentioned names. Why? Well, frankly, it is a question of tastes. Other than an occasional song here or there John Lee Hooker does not “speak” to me, a term that means something to me in the blues context. Sure his guitar smokes when he is on. He always had more than enough black and white bands (Canned Heat, for one) clamoring to back him up and certainly his lyrics (with a few “politically incorrect” exceptions common to the genre) drove his message home. But we never connected at that “soul” level the way Wolf, Son House or the recently discovered (by me) Bukka White do. This happens. But I know enough about the blues to know that John Lee Hooker will “speak” to others. Legends are like that.
So given the above comments what is classic here, according to my tastes. Well, hell “Stella Mae” is one of those here or there songs Hooker songs I mentioned above that I liked. Others may like the much covered “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer”. (This may be the best way to state my case- George Thorogood’s version “speaks” to me.) “Peace Lovin’ Man” and “I’m In The Mood” are exemplars of Hooker’s boogie guitar style.”
After viewing this DVD compilation (definitive or not, that after all is trade puffing) all I can say is oops, maybe I spoke just a little cavalierly above. Maybe it was because I viewed this DVD while we are having a heat wave here in the Northeast and his driving and sensuous blues riffs have come alive like in sultry old plantation and African roots days. Check out “I’m In The Mood For Love” in a duo with Bonnie Raitt to see what I mean. Or with Van Morrison on “Baby Please Don’t Go”. How about “Boom Boom”? Or “Hobo Blues" with the ubiquitous Ry Cooder. Or the masterpiece Hooker classic “Boogie Chillen” with Eric Clapton and The Rolling Stones”. Most of this is mature work so maybe that counts for its appeal to me now. Let me just say-WOW!
"Baby Please Don’t Go"
Baby, please dont go Baby, please dont go Baby, please dont go Down to new orleans You know I love you so Baby please dont go
Baby, your mind done gone Well, your mind done gone Well, your mind done gone Left the county farm You had the shackles on Baby, please dont go
Before I be your dog Before I be your dog Before I be your dog To git you way down here I make you walk alone Baby, please dont go Hey
Baby, please dont go Baby, please dont go Baby, please dont go Down to new orleans You know I love you so Baby, please dont go
Before I be your dog Before I be your dog Before I be your dog Git you way down here Make you walk alone Baby, please dont go
Know how I feel right now My baby leavin, on that midnight train And Im cryin
Baby, please dont go Oh, baby please dont go Baby, please dont go Down to new orleans You know I love you so Baby, please dont go Lets go
Before I be your dog Before I be your dog Before I be your dog To git you way down here I make you walk alone Baby, please dont go, yeah
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of James Cotton Doing "Slow Blues". Yes, now you know why he played with Muddy Waters.
Has He Got His Mojo Workin'? - The Blues Harmonica Of James Cotton CD REVIEW Got My Mojo Workin’, James Cotton and his band, Blu Mountain Records, 2003 I have, over the past year or so, spent some time tracing the roots of the blues from its southern country home, mainly on the plantations, farms and small towns that surround them, through its transition into the larger cities of the South where the crowds and hence the lyrics got more sophisticated and, ultimately, to the blues Mecca, Chicago, and other Northern cities where blacks migrated en masse between the two world wars and in the immediate post World War II period. As part of that exposition I have discussed not only the differences in the lyrics reflecting the changeover from the moaning and groaning of the plantation life to the hyper-intensity of city life. I have also mentioned the key change in the guitar going from some old acoustic instrument to the electric guitar of the cities. Along the way I have failed to mention, or not mentioned enough, some of the other changes in instrumentation. For one, and this is relevant here, the harmonica. This instrument, as an accompanying sound, has a long history beyond its key place in the blues saga. However, with the citification of the blues its role in a blues band as back up to those electric guitars and drums became more central. In short, a strong harmonica player became necessary to fill in the spaces left by the reverberating guitar. Correspondingly, virtuosity on the harmonica brought its own rewards. I would argue that Sonny Boy Williamson's role in this change was key in the 1920's and 1930's followed by Lil' Walter of the early Muddy Waters Band. And who followed Walter - well, the artist under review here, James Cotton. Like all talented musicians with any sense of leadership James Cotton, after serving his long apprenticeship with Muddy Waters, went on to form his own band. This CD is one of the results of those efforts. James, as always, plays the bejesus out of the harmonica. His backup band is a little more than adequate. The gruff-voiced Cotton does so-so a job on the vocals. However, this album left me drifting in and out. Some tracks are very fine like "Fanny Mae", "Good Morning Little Schoolgirl" and the title track "Got My Mojo Workin'". However, such numbers as "Goodbye My Lady", "Teenie Weenie Bit" and Help Me" seemed forced. I confess this is the only CD of Cotton's that I have reviewed but off of this performance I sure wish he had been back with Muddy wailing out on something like "Hootchie Gootchie Man". Got My Mojo Working by Preston Foster / McKinley Morganfield a.k.a. Muddy Waters Got my mojo working, but it just won't work on you Got my mojo working, but it just won't work on you I wanna love you so bad till I don't know what to do I'm going down to Louisiana to get me a mojo hand I'm going down to Louisiana to get me a mojo hand I'm gonna have all you women right here at my command Got my mojo working Got my mojo working Got my mojo working Got my mojo working Got my mojo working, but it just won't work on you Play on! Got my mojo working Got my mojo working Got my mojo working Got my mojo working Got my mojo working, but it - uh uh - just won't work on you __________ Note: the original version of Got My Mojo Working was sung in a jump blues style by Ann Cole. She performed the song on stage in 1956, which was how Muddy Waters found the song!. Muddy Waters adapted it to his style but the bassline is still the same. The song can be found on the 1999 Rhino Records anthology album Jump, Jive & Swing. These are the lyrics to the original version as sung by Ann Cole and written by Preston Foster: FANNIE MAE Well I want somebody to tell me what's wrong with me I want somebody to tell me what's wrong with me Oh I ain't in any trouble and so much misery Now Fannie Mae, baby won't you please come home Fannie Mae ae ae, baby won't you please come home Yeah I ain't been in debt baby since you been gone I can hear your name a ringin on down the line I can hear your name a ringin on down the line I want to know pretty love how do I win my time MUSICAL INTERLUDE I no o o o for me, I no-o-o-o for me Well I ain't been in trouble and so much misery Song Lyrics: Good Morning Little School Girl
Written and Recorded by: Sonny Boy Williamson II (1937) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Good mornin' 'lil school girl, can I go home, can I go home with you? Tell your mother and your father, I'm a little school boy too Woke up this mornin', woke up this mornin', I didn't know what to, I didn't know what to do I didn't have no blues, baby, bit I couldn't be satisfied I'm gettin' me an airplane, I'm gettin' me an airplane, get in my airplane Gon' fly all oh-oh, gon' fly all over this land I'm gonna find my little school girl, find her in the world somewhere Good mornin' 'lil school girl, good mornin' 'lil school girl Can I go home with, can I go home with, can I go home with you? Tell your mother and your father, Johnny little school boy too Come be my baby, come be my baby, I buy you a diamond, I buy you a diamond ring You don't be my little baby, I ain't gonna buy you a doggone ring
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.
Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of "Big Mama" Thornton performing "Hound Dog." Elvis step back, way back, on this one.
CD REVIEW
February Is Black History Month
As those familiar with this space know I have spent a good amount of ink touting various old time blues legends that I ‘discovered’ in my youth. My intention, in part, is to introduce a new generation to this roots music but also to demonstrate a connection between this black-centered music and the struggle for black liberation that both blacks and whites can appreciate. Like virtually all forms of music that lasts more than five minutes the blues has had its ups and downs. After becoming electric and urbanized in the immediate post-World War II period it was eclipsed by the advent of rock&roll then made a comeback in the mid- 1960's with the surge of English bands that grew up on this music, and so on. Most recently there was mini-resurgence with the justifiably well-received Martin Scorsese PBS six-part blues series in 2003. A little earlier, in the mid-1990’s, there had also been a short-lived reemergence spearheaded by the ‘discovery’ of urban blues pioneer Robert Johnson’s music.
The long and short of this phenomenon is that commercial record production of this music waxed and waned reflecting that checkered history. I have, in the interest of variety for the novice, selected these CDs as a decent cross-section of blues (and its antecedents in earlier forms of roots music) as to gender, time and type. The following reviewed CDs represent first of all an attempt by record companies to meet the 1990’s surge. They also represent a hard fact of musical life. Like rock&roll the blues will never die. Praise be. Feast on these compilations.
The Sky May Be Crying But You Won’t Be
Living The Blues: Blues Masters, MCA Records, 1995
Many of the artists on this compilation have received individual attention by this reviewer elsewhere in this space. Thus I will highlight some of the lesser known artists who were either one hit johnnies (or janies) and for some reason did not make the blues pantheon. First, however, I must note that any compilation that starts off with “I’m Your Hoochie Goochie Man” by Muddy Waters, an incredible version of “Hound Dog” by “Big Mama” Thornton and “Back Door Man” by Howlin’ Wolf is has already paid its way. Add in a laid back Jimmy Reed on “Baby What Do You Want Me To Do”, a ripping slide guitar by Elmore James on “The Sky Is Crying”, a young and hungry John Lee Hooker flailing away on “Boogie Chillun” and “So Many Roads, So Many Trains” by the smooth Otis Rush and you have not been cheated.
Now for the lesser lights that make this a virtually complete compilation of masters. How about a young but soon to be immortal Etta James on her classic “I’d Rather Go Blind”. Or the harmonica player extraordinaire, Little Walter, on “You’re So Fine”. And “The Things That I Used To Do” by the virtuoso guitarist Guitar Slim. And Lowell Fulsom rocking away on “Reconsider Baby. And…. Well, you get the picture. With the possible exception of Slim Harpo (who had a small body of work due to an early untimely death) all of these masters will be getting fuller treatment in this space later. For now this will give you an idea of what it was like when men and women played electric blues for real.
BIG MAMA THORNTON HOUND DOG LYRICS
You ain't nothing but a hound dog Been snoopin' round my door You ain't nothing but a hound dog Been snoopin' round my door You can wag your tail But I ain't gonna feed you no more You told me you was high class I could see through that You told me you was high class I could see through that And baby I know You ain't no real cool cat You ain't nothing but a hound dog Been snoopin' round my door You ain't nothing but a hound dog Been snoopin' round my door You can wag your tail But I ain't gonna feed you no more You made me feel so blue You made me weep and moan You made me feel so blue You made me weep and moan 'Cause I'm looking for a woman All your lookin' for is a home You ain't nothing but a hound dog Been snoopin' round my door You ain't nothing but a hound dog Been snoopin' round my door You can wag your tail But I ain't gonna feed you no more
The Roots Is The Toots: The Music That Got The Generation Of ’68 Through The 1950s Red Scare Cold War Night-You Got That Right Brother-The Blues Ain’t Nothing But A Good Woman On Your Mind
A YouTube film clip of Muddy Water's performing his classic Chicago blues tune, Mannish Child.
By Allan Jackson
[It is funny about musical influences and their effect on the person and the generation. I have noted elsewhere and others in this series have as well that the recording companies have done some serious demographic research to come up with say for the baby-boomer generation endless compilations of classic rock and rock hits from Ike Turner’s 1951 Rocket 88 stuff to maudlin vanilla stuff toward the end of the classic era before the Beatles/Stones saved our asses from boredom. Doo wop, girl groups, Sun Records, one-hit wonders the whole shebang. See what they know and what we know from our intuition “you stay with the gal who brung you” in your musical tastes which allows you to titter such pearls of wisdom as “they don’t make songs like they used to in my day” and “how can these kids stand that noise” both statements stolen from driven crazy parents in their turn.
Of course later music will have some play if it is good enough and maybe in a retro fit sounded like what you loved as a kid and some music like the blues, the eternal blues which forever speaks to some hidden wound deep in the American psyche given what we owe Africa musically and in that damn slave ship crossing, will transcend time and class for that very reason. Other stuff and what we are talking about here alluded to a minute ago when I talked about the end time of the classic rock and roll era which was dying on the vine through what we did not know until much later when we researched it deeply (researched for various sketches in this series and to put the cultural currents ebbing and flowing in the modern American experience in perspective for this publication) was a conscious cabal. A cabal between our parents who saw our music as the “devil’s music” either from deep bias about the black-etched roots or could not take the swaying, swirly sexually suggestion way that we free-formed danced to our own inner wonders, the greedy and insidious record companies and through them the DJs or the local rock radio stations which controlled the music flow.
It was a tough time for a few years say from the late 1950s to the early 1960s when most of what we heard was and I have characterized it this way before and others have as well “bubble gum” music. If you are from that baby-boomer generation or you have access to YouTube you can verify this for yourselves. There was the taming of what passed for rock sex symbols from the likes of the departed Elvis, the sullen Jerry Lee, the long gone Buddy Holly, the messing with Mister’s women Chuck Berry and a host of others who we ran upstairs to listen to on our freedom transistor radios which saved many a wretched youth from silence and despair for clean dudes like Fabian, Bobby Dee, Vee and a host of Bobbies and women like Sandra Dee and Leslie Gore. Fuck.
That cabal did us wrong, wronger than they will ever know just to make us vanilla cooperate and buckle down as the endless term of the teen household would have it. The worse of it was we were sabotaged from within since the girls, the ones who had money from somewhere to buy the records thought these stuff was “cute.” Fuck, again. In the end though we sprang like the phoenix from the ashes of that horrible period, dragging some of those Bobby-smitten girls along with us for a while anyway, and really did go our own way when the 1960s heated up in so many ways. I like to think that our “training,” our being present at the creation, of rock and roll had something todo with that. Mercy, please. Allan Jackson]
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Johnny Prescott daydreamed his way through the music that he was listening to just then on the little transistor radio that Ma Prescott, Martha to adults, and Pa too, Paul to adults, but the main battles over the gift had been with Ma, had given him for Christmas. In those days we are talking about, the post-World War II red scare Cold War 1950s in America, the days of the dreamy man in the family being the sole provider fathers didn’t get embroiled in the day to day household kids wars and remained a distant and at times foreboding presence called in only when the dust-up had gotten out of hand. And then Papa pulled the hammer down via a classic united front with Ma. Johnny had taken a fit around the first week in December in 1960 when Ma quite reasonable suggested that a new set of ties to go with his white long-sleeved shirts might be a better gift, a better Christmas gift and more practical too, for a sixteen year old boy. Reasonable since alongside Pa being that sole provider, being a distant presence, and being called in only when World War III was about to erupt in the household he also worked like a slave for low wages at the Boston Gear Works, worked for low wages since he was an unskilled laborer in a world where skills paid money (and even the skills that he did have, farm hand skills, were not very useful in the Boston labor market). So yes ties, an item that at Christmas time usually would be the product of glad-handing grandmothers or maiden aunts would in the Prescott household be relegated to the immediate family. And that holiday along with Easter was a time when the Prescott boys had in previous years had gotten their semi-annual wardrobe additions, additions provided via the Bargain Center, a low-cost, low rent forerunner of the merchandise provided at Wal-Mart.
This year, this sixteen year old year, Johnny said no to being pieced off with thick plaid ties, or worse, wide striped ties in color combinations like gold and black or some other uncool combination, uncool that year although maybe not in say 1952 when he did not know better, uncool in any case against those thin solid colored ties all the cool guys were wearing to the weekly Friday night school dances or the twice monthly Sacred Heart Parish dances the latter held in order to keep sixteen year old boys, girls too, in check against the worst excesses of what the parish priests (and thankful parents) thought was happening among the heathen young.
No, that is not quite right, that “Johnny said no” part, no, he screamed that he wanted a radio, a transistor radio, batteries included, of his own so that he could listen to whatever he liked up in his room, or wherever he was. Could listen to what he liked against errant younger brothers who were clueless, clueless about rock and roll, clueless about what was what coming through the radio heralding a new breeze in the land, a breeze Johnny was not sure what it meant but all he knew was that he, and his buddies, knew some jail-break movement was coming to unglue all the square-ness in the over- heated night. Could listen in privacy, and didn’t have to, understand, didn’t have to listen to some Vaughn Monroe or Harry James 1940s war drum thing on the huge immobile RCA radio monster downstairs in the Prescott living room. Didn’t have to listen to, endlessly Saturday night listen, captive nation-like listen to WJDA and the smooth music, you know, Frank Sinatra, Andrews Sisters, Bing Crosby, and so on listen to the music of Ma and Pa Prescott’s youth, the music that got them through the Depression and the war. Strictly squaresville, cubed.
Something was out of joint though, something had changed since he had begun his campaign the year before to get that transistor radio, something or someone had played false with the music that he had heard when somebody played the jukebox at Freddy’s Hamburger House where he heard Elvis, Buddy, Chuck, Wanda (who was hot, hot for a girl rocker, all flowing black hair and ruby red lips from what he had seen at Big Max’s Record Shop when her Let’s Have A Party was released), the Big Bopper, Jerry Lee, Bo, and a million others who made the whole world jump to a different tune, to something he could call his own. But as he listened to this Shangra-la by The Four Coins that had just finished up a few seconds ago and as this Banana Boat song by The Tarriers was starting its dreary trip through his brain he was not sure that those ties, thick or uncool as they would be, wouldn’t have been a better Christmas deal, and more practical too.
Yeah, this so-called rock station, WAPX, that he and his friends had been devoted to since 1957, had listened to avidly every night when Johnny Peeper, the Midnight Creeper and Leaping Lenny Penny held forth in their respective DJ slots, had sold out to, well, sold out to somebody, because except for late at night, midnight late at night, one could not hear the likes of Jerry Lee, Carl, Little Richard, Fats, and the new rocker blasts, now that Elvis had gone who knows where. Killer rocker Chuck Berry had said it best, had touched a youth nation nerve, had proclaimed the new dispensation when he had proclaimed loud and clear that Mr. Beethoven had better move alone, and said Mr. Beethoven best tell one and all of his confederates, including Mr. Tchaikovsky, that rock ‘n’ roll was the new sheriff in town. But where was Chuck, where was that rock blaster all sexed up talk and riffs to match now that everybody was reduced to Bobby Darin, Bobby Rydell, and Bobby, hell, they were all Bobbys and Jimmys and Eddies and every other vanilla name under the sun now not a righteous name in the house. As Johnny turned the volume down a little lower (that tells the tale right there, friends) as Rainbow (where the hell do they get these creepy songs from) by Russ Hamilton he was ready to throw in the towel though. Ready to face the fact that maybe, just maybe the jail-break that he desperately had been looking forward to might have been just a blip, might have been an illusion and that the world after all belonged to Bing, Frank, Tommy and Jimmy and that he better get used to that hard reality.
Desperate, Johnny fingered the dial looking for some other station when he heard this crazy piano riff starting to breeze through the night air, the heated night air, and all of a sudden Ike Turner’s Rocket 88 blasted the airwaves. Ike whose Rocket 88 had been the champion choice of Jimmy Jenkins, one of his friends from after school, when they would sit endlessly in Freddy’s and seriously try to figure out whose song started the road to rock and roll. Johnny had latched onto Big Joe Turner’s Shake, Rattle and Roll which Elvis did a smash cover of but who in Joe’s version you can definitely heart that dah-da-dah beat that was the calling card of his break-out generation, as well as the serious sexual innuendo which Frankie Riley explained to one and all one girl-less Friday night at the high school hop. Billy Bradley, a high school friend who had put an assortment of bands together and so knew more than the rest of them combined, had posited Elmore James’ Look Yonder Wall as his selection but nobody had ever heard the song then, or of James.
Johnny later did give it some consideration after he had had heard the song when Billy’s band covered it and broke the place up.
But funny as Johnny listened that night it didn’t sound like the whinny Ike’s voice on Rocket 88 so he listened for a little longer, and as he later found out from the DJ, it had actually been a James Cotton Blues Band cover. After that band’s performance was finished fish-tailing right after that one was a huge harmonica intro and what could only be mad-hatter Junior Wells doing When My Baby Left Me splashed through. No need to turn the dial further now because what Johnny Prescott had found in the crazy night air, radio beams bouncing every which way, was direct from Chicago, and maybe right off those hard-hearted Maxwell streets was Be-Bop Benny’s Chicago Blues Radio Hour. Be-Bop Benny who everybody who read the rock and roll magazines found easier at Doc’s Drugstore over on Hancock Street knew, had started Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and Fats Domino on their careers, or helped.
Now Johnny, like every young high-schooler, every "with it" high schooler in the USA, had heard of this show, because even though everybody was crazy for rock and roll, just now the airwaves sounded like, well, sounded like music your parents would dance to, no, sit to at a dance, some kids still craved high rock. So this show was known mainly through the teenage grapevine but Johnny had never heard it before because, no way, no way in hell was his punk little Radio Shack transistor radio with two dinky batteries going to ever have enough strength to pick Be-Bop Benny’s show out in Chicago. So Johnny, and maybe rightly so, took this turn of events for a sign. When Johnny heard that distinctive tinkle of the Otis Spann piano warming up to Spann’s Stomp and jumped up with his Someday added in he was hooked. You know he started to see what Billy, Billy Bradley who had championed Elmore James way before anybody knew who he was, meant when at a school dance where he had been performing with his band, Billie and the Jets, he mentioned from the stage before introducing a song that if you wanted to get rock and roll back from the vanilla guys who had hijacked it while Jerry Lee, Chuck and Elvis had turned their backs then you had better listen to the blues. And if you wanted to listen to blues, blues that rocked then you had very definitely had better get in touch with the Chicago blues as they came north from Mississippi and places like that.
And Johnny thought, Johnny who have never been too much south of Gloversville, or west of Albany, and didn’t know too many people who had, couldn’t understand why that beat, that dah, da, dah, Chicago beat sounded like something out of the womb in his head. But when he heard Big Walter Horton wailing on that harmonica on Rockin’ My Boogie he knew it had to be in his genes.
Here’s the funniest part of all though later, later in the 1960s after everybody had become a serious aficionado of the blues either through exposure like Johnny to the country blues that got revived during the folk minute that flashed through the urban areas of the country and got big play at places like the Newport Folk Festival or like Jimmy Jenkins through the British rock invasion the blues became the dues. It was especially ironic that a bunch of guys from England like the Stones and Beatles were grabbing every freaking 45 RPM record they could get their mitts on. So if you listened to the early work of those groups you would find thing covered like Shake, Rattle and Roll (Big Joe’s version), Arthur Alexander’s Anna, Howlin’ Wolf’s Little Red Rooster and a ton of stuff by Muddy Waters. Yeah, the drought was over.
The Roots Is The Toots: The Music That Got The Generation Of ’68 Through The 1950s Red Scare Cold War Night-The Blues Ain’t Nothing But A Good Woman On Your Mind- “The Best Of The Chicago Blues”
A YouTube film clip of Muddy Water's performing his classic Chicago blues tune, Mannish Boy.
[I have decided to cast the rumor mill struggle to the wind after this last blast since I really do want to comment in these introductions about how they came about or what incidents from back in the 1950s and 1960s brought them to mind. If the reader does not know why I am chucking the rumor mill it has to do with my demise as site manager of this site and my subsequent “disappearance” to the West (as Jim Morrison of The Doors said in one of his signature songs The End “the West is the best, get here and we will do the right”) to find work when I was frozen out of the publishing business in the East as the kiss of death “hard to work with.” The rumors flew fast and furious as everything from I was done in by the “victors” in the internal struggle that I lost like we were back Stalin-Trotsky times to my appointment as Utah (now Utah anyway) Senatorial candidate Mitt Romney’s press secretary to my “pimping” some surfer girl waitress out in La Jolla (I did meet a surfer girl waitress, Damask, but I wasn’t pimping her for the real story see the last published part of this series dated March 19, 2018) to living with a drag queen in San Francisco getting sky high on opium. (See that same archive story for the real deal on that.)
So there is no wonder that I have had it with defending myself against the water cooler rumor mill here and in half the publications in the East from people trying to besmirch my reputation and to enhance their own. I knew I was doomed when somebody I think from Women Today stated flat out that my surfer girl defense story was made of whole cloth and that I probably did take advantage of the young woman to make some money so I could get out from under some alimony and college tuition payments (that young women by the way was not some naïve twenty-something although she admittedly look younger than her thirty-something years and is working on her degree in physical therapy). The writer was trying to tar me with the same brush as all the big time celebrity sexual predators who have been hung out to dry in the recent past and maybe rightly so. Reason. I did not let Damask tell her side of the story. Jesus what is this supposed to be a police gazette tabloid complete with lurid fuzzy photographs.
You know Seth Garth a film reviewer here had it right in a recent review of a James Bond 007 film (why this Bond series is being reviewed is beyond me but I will let it pass) where he got embroiled in the middle of a “controversy” about who played the James Bond role cinematically in the long 50th plus years of the series when he mentioned that the film review profession was dog eat dog. That every reviewer is always angling to move up the food chain by downgrading the opinions of the competition, even though who work for the same outfit.
What you may not know is that at the publication level, among publishers, hard copy or these days on-line, that same fierce dog eat dog ethos applies as well. Except the publishers do a lot of things by indirection, a lot by having their stooge writers take up the cudgels against the opposition and do what they can to diminish whatever is being put out by those publications. This is where I think that attack from Women Today is coming from. See a long time ago Leslie Dumont was a stringer here when she was Josh Breslin’s companion and feeling, maybe rightly frustrated she left for a by-line in Women Today. Recently she was “lured” back to this publication and in time-honored tradition she had been bad-mouthed as now incapable of writing a complete English sentence, stuff like that. Naturally to get at me, a man well known in the industry as a founder of this publication, since I no longer run things they took a run at a simple introduction to defend myself against some pretty loony charges like “pimping” for a surfer girl out West. That gives you an idea of the general climate in the industry these days and why I have thrown in the towel in trying to scotch every half-baked rumor that has come down the pike.
There are a couple of very nasty rumors I want to mention and be done with this and put me to the rack if you want but let me just finish this series with some serious insights and not blather. While I was explaining my relationship with that surfer girl, with Damask, I mentioned that I actually did need money and so after she and I agreed that she would come East at some point when I was settled I went up to San Francisco to see if I could raise some money from two sources-Miss Judy Garland, a drag queen who I have known since he was Timmy Riley back in the old working class Acre neighborhood in growing up town and who I sent money to for years to keep her nightclub afloat and a gal I know going back to Summer of Love, 1967 days out in San Francisco who subsequently became Madame La Rue running a high end brothel for mostly Asian businessman with a kink for the wild side in Frisco town. I have helped her as well. As I noted in the last posting I got most of the money from Miss Judy but I also got some from the woman known as Madame Le Rue. On the basis of that kindness I was accused of helping her run a whorehouse in any place from Buenos Aires to Hong Kong. Jesus.
All the previous rumors though went to my reputation, went to my standing in the industry and such but the worse rumor of all since it involves my legal situation is the vile rumor that I was “fronting” or “muling” for some Mexican drug cartel looking to broaden their markets in American and I was to be a prime distributor. Frankly I don’t know what to say about this except I think Jack Callahan hit it right on the head. I might have been a big dope-imbiber back in the day, may have done a little dealing/swapping when I needed dough for something but that is ancient history. But the number one thing that would have prohibited me from even thinking about doing some kind of deal with some nefarious cartel is the fate of my, our old friend from the Acre the Scribe, Peter Paul Markin who for a whole lot of reasons which I will not go into now since others have written about the subject already went off the tracks in the mid-1970s and while trying to get out from under wound up with a couple of slugs to the head in some back alley in Sonora, Mexico and a potter’s field grave there. Allan Jackson]
********
CD Review
The Best Of The Chicago Blues, various artists, Vanguard Records, 1987
Johnny Prescott daydreamed his way through the music that he was listening to just then on the little transistor that Ma Prescott, Martha to adults, had given him for Christmas after he has taken a fit when she quite reasonable suggested that a new set of ties to go with his white long-sleeved shirts might be a better gift, a better Christmas gift and more practical too, for a sixteen year old boy. No, he screamed he wanted a radio, a transistor radio, batteries included, of his own so that he could listen to whatever he liked up in his room, or wherever he was, and didn’t have, understand, didn’t have to listen to some Vaughn Monroe or Harry James 1940s war drum thing on the huge immobile radio downstairs in the Prescott living room. Strictly squaresville, cubed.
But as he listened to this the Shangra-la by The Four Coins that just finished up a few seconds ago and as this Banana Boat song by The Tarriers was starting its dreary trip he was not sure that those ties wouldn’t have been a better deal, and more practical too. Ya, this so-called rock station, WAPX, had sold out to, well, sold out to somebody, because except for late at night, midnight late at night, one could not hear the likes of Jerry Lee, Carl, Little Richard, Fats, and the new, now that Elvis was gone, killer rocker, Chuck Berry who proclaimed loud and clear that Mr. Beethoven had better move alone, and said Mr. Beethoven best tell one and all of his confederates, including Mr. Tchaikovsky that rock ‘n’ roll was the new sheriff in town. As he turned the volume down a little lower (that tells the tale right there, friends) as Rainbow (where the hell do they get these creepy songs from) by Russ Hamilton he was ready to throw in the towel though.
Desperate he fingered the dial looking for some other station when he heard this crazy piano riff starting to breeze through the night air, the heated night air, and all of a sudden Ike Turner’s Rocket 88 blasted the airwaves. But funny it didn’t sound like the whinny Ike’s voice so he listened for a little longer, and as he later found out from the DJ it was actually a James Cotton Blues Band cover. After that performance was finished fish-tailing right after that one was a huge harmonica intro and what could only be mad-hatter Junior Wells doing When My Baby Left Me splashed through. No need to turn the dial further now because what Johnny Prescott had found in the crazy night air, radio beams bouncing every which way, was direct from Chicago, and maybe right off those hard-hearted Maxwell streets was Be-Bop Benny’s Chicago Blues Radio Hour. Be-Bop Benny who started Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and Fats Domino on their careers, or helped.
Now Johnny, like every young high-schooler, every "with it" high schooler in the USA, had heard of this show, because even though everybody was crazy for rock and roll, just now the airwaves sounded like, well, sounded like music your parents would dance to, no, sit to at a dance, some kids still craved high rock. So this show was known mainly through the teenage grapevine but Johnny had never heard it because, no way, no way in hell was his punk little Radio Shack transistor radio with two dinky batteries going to have even strength to pick Be-Bop Benny’s live show out in Chicago. So Johnny, and maybe rightly so, took this turn of events for a sign. And so when he heard that distinctive tinkle of the Otis Spann piano warming up to Spann’s Stomp and up with his Someday added in he was hooked. And you know he started to see what Billie, Billie Bradley from over in Adamsville, meant when at a school dance where he had been performing with his band, Billie and the Jets, he mentioned that if you want to get rock and roll back you had better listen to blues, and if you want to listen to blues, blues that rock then you had very definitely had better get in touch with the Chicago blues as they came north from Mississippi and places like that.
And Johnny thought, Johnny who have never been too much south of Gloversville, or west of Albany, and didn’t know too many people who had, couldn’t understand why that beat, that da,da, da, Chicago beat sounded like something out of the womb in his head. But when he heard Big Walter Horton wailing on that harmonica on Rockin’ My Boogie he knew it had to be in his genes.
Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Elvis performing "One Night With You".
*In Honor Of The Late Legendary Chuck Berry- The King Is Dead- Long Live The King- Elvis When He Was Elvis CD compilation Review
Elvis; The King Of Rock And Roll, Five CD Set, BMG, 1992
I have been doing a series of commentaries elsewhere on another site on my coming of political age in the early 1960s, but now when I am writing about musical influences I am just speaking of my coming of age, period, which was not necessarily the same thing. No question those of us who came of age in the 1950s are truly children of rock and roll. We were there, whether we appreciated it or not at the time, when the first, sputtering, moves away from ballady show tunes, rhymey Tin Pan Alley tunes and, most importantly, any and all music that your parents might have approved of, even liked, or at least left you alone to play in peace up in your room hit post World War II America like, well, like an atomic bomb.
Well, as most of us know and believe, I hope anyway, the subject of this review, Elvis, is gone now. But it is hard to go back to the roots of rock and roll without paying much lip service to his musical influence, his showmanship, his energy when performance time came and he was in the mood to kick up some dust, and his sneerily-etched good looks. I will tell you that Jerry Lee Lewis was most of an influence on my early music tastes than Elvis. I also believe pound for pound that Jerry Lee had more energy on almost all days than Elvis could release in his early career. But on the one proverbial any given day, and this day is it and this massive CD compilation serves as proof, the king was the King.
Later Elvis, the Elvis of Las Vegas, except for severe aficionados, was almost entirely forgettable but in the early to mid-1950s, and maybe a little later, when he was still hungry and still wanted to fight to be king of rock he more than held his own. That is the time of this compilation and the Elvis time any serious rock aficionado, or historically-inclined rock fan wants to look at. This five CD set provides all the ammunition you will ever need for the why behind why he drove the girls wild in the 1950s, and the rest of us, just ordinary teen guys, crazy trying how to figure out to break his spell. It’s wasn’t pretty because no way we could win.
But enough of that. Elvis sneers, swivel hips and those long side-burns aside what in this compilation goes down in rock history. Please note that some of these songs that are outstanding examples of his early work are done in several versions here, some very well done others less so. “That’s Where The Heartbreak Begins” has a nice talking part. “Heartbreak Hotel”, of course, although the lyrics are hardly the stuff of teen romance. The Carl Perkins rockabilly classic, “Blue Suede Shoes”, which Elvis made his own. Other rockabilly classics like “That ‘s All Right” and “Good Rockin’ Tonight”. Some covers like Roy Orbison’s “I Got A Woman”. “Big Mama” Thornton’s “Hound Dog”. Ballads like “Love Me Tender” and “True Love”. And so on. If you want Elvis, good bad, or indifferent this is a primer, no, a graduate course in Elvisology.
Note: I have not mentioned “One Night” above because I want to pay special to that song. On every variation in this set he smokes it. This song, more so that “Jailhouse Rock", “Heartbreak Hotel” or “Don’t Be Cruel” gets my nod as the epitome of Elvis rock, sneer, and swivel. This is one time that he is not mailing it in. Now I know, finally, why those young girls of my generation were swooning, getting all sweaty and more over the mere mention of Elvis’ name. On this one Jerry Lee takes a back seat, way back. Wow!
One Night - Elvis Presley
One night with you Is what I'm now praying for The things that we two could plan Would make my dreams come true
Just call my name And I'll be right by your side I want your sweet helping hand My loves too strong to hide
Always lived, very quiet life I ain't never did no wrong Now I know that life without you Has been too lonely too long
One night with you Is what I'm now praying for The things that we two could plan Would make my dreams come true
Always lived, very quiet life I ain't never did no wrong Now I know that life without you Has been too lonely too long
One night with you Is what I'm now praying for The things that we two could plan Would make my dreams come true
Click on the title to link to YouTube's film clip of Etta James performing "I'd Rather Go Blind". Sorry, I could not find ""Please, No More" except by Joe Cocker.
CD Review
Let’s Roll, Etta James, Sony BMG Europe, 2003
The name Etta James goes back in my memory to associations with my first listening to rock music on the old transistor radio in the late 1950’s. At that time, I believe, her music was in the old doo wop tradition of the late 1950’s, a music that I was fairly soon to dismiss out of hand as the ‘bubble gum’ music that was prevalent in that period between the height of Elvis/Jerry Lee/Carl Perkins classic rock & rock and the Beatles and The Rolling Stones. That is where things were left until a dozen years ago or more when Etta ‘stole the show’ at the Newport Folk Festival. Well, we live and learn.
The stand outs here include: the rocking “Business Is Good,” the saucy “Lie No Better,” and Etta at her gospelly, bluesy best on “Please, No More”. Wow on that last one. That is worth the price of admission here.
"Please No More"- Joe Cocker Lyrics
We start a fight, who knows what for
Who knows who's winning, or who's keeping score
You say it's all right, as you slam the door
All I can say is, "Please no more, please no more."
I've had enough after how I swore
I'd never give you up
Loving you was easy, but one thing's for sure
It ain't me, it ain't me, you're trying to please no more.
Passions will burn, burn endlessly
All that's left behind are these broken dreams
While I still got some pieces laid out on the floor
I'm asking you baby, "Please no more, please no more."
I've had enough, after how I swore
I'd never give you up
Loving you was easy, but one thing's for sure
It ain't me, it ain't me, you're trying to please no more.
Click on the title to link to YouTube's film clip of Etta James performing "Born Under A Bad Sign".
CD Review
Life, Love And The Blues, Etta James, Sbme Special Mkts., 1998
The name Etta James goes back in my memory to associations with my first listening to rock music on the old transistor radio in the late 1950’s. At that time, I believe, her music was in the old doo wop tradition of the late 1950’s, a music that I was fairly soon to dismiss out of hand as the ‘bubble gum’ music that was prevalent in that period between the height of Elvis/Jerry Lee/Carl Perkins classic rock & rock and the Beatles and The Rolling Stones. That is where things were left until a dozen years ago or more when Etta ‘stole the show’ at the Newport Folk Festival. Well, we live and learn.
The stand outs here include: the blues rocker “Born Under A Bad Sign,” Willie Dixon’s classic “Spoonful,” and Etta’s own version of the Dixon/Muddy Waters classic, “Hoochie Goochie Gal”. Not her best album, by any means, but solid.
Born Under A Bad Sign by Booker T. Jones / William Bell
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
Hard luck and trouble is my only friend
I been on my own ever since I was ten
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
I can't read, haven't learned how to write
My whole life has been one big fight
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
I ain't lyin'
If it wasn't for bad luck
I wouldn't have no kind-a luck
If it wasn't for real bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
Wine and women is all I crave
A big legged woman is
gonna carry me to my grave
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck,
I wouldn't have no luck at all
Yeah, my bad luck boy
Been havin' bad luck all of my days, yes
Click on the tile to link to "YouTube"'s film clip of Etta James performing her famous hit, "At Last". Sorry, I could not find her performing "Purple Rain" on "YouTube". CD Review
All The Way, Etta James, RCA Victor, 2006
The name Etta James goes back in my memory to associations with my first listening to rock music on the old transistor radio in the late 1950’s. At that time, I believe, her music was in the old doo wop tradition of the late 1950’s, a music that I was fairly soon to dismiss out of hand as the ‘bubble gum’ music that was prevalent in that period between the height of Elvis/Jerry Lee/Carl Perkins classic rock & rock and the Beatles and The Rolling Stones. That is where things were left until a dozen years ago or more when Etta ‘stole the show’ at the Newport Folk Festival. Well, we live and learn.
The stand outs here, which are almost all covers of other artists, include: the title track “All The Way,” John Lennon’s “Imagine,”, her version of James Brown’s classic soul song, “It’s A Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World,” and the best cover I have ever heard of Prince’s “Purple Rain”.
Purple Rain lyrics-Prince
I never meant to cause you any sorrow
I never meant to cause you any pain
I only wanted one time to see you laughing
I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
I only wanted to see you bathing in the purple rain
I never wanted to be your weekend lover
I only wanted to be some kind of friend, hey
Baby, I could never steal you from another
It's such a shame our friendship had to end
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
I only wanted to see you underneath the purple rain
Honey, I know, I know, I know times are changin'
It's time we all reach out for something new, that means you too
You say you want a leader, but you can't seem to make up your mind
And I think you better close it and let me guide you to the purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
If you know what I'm singin' about up here, come on raise your hand
Purple rain, purple rain
I only want to see you, only want to see you in the purple rain
Click on the title to link to "YouTube"'s film clip of Etta James performing "I Just Want TO Make Love To You".
CD Review
Etta James Rocks The House, Etta James, Chess Records, 1964
The name Etta James goes back in my memory to associations with my first listening to rock music on the old transistor radio in the late 1950’s. At that time, I believe, her music was in the old doo wop tradition of the late 1950’s, a music that I was fairly soon to dismiss out of hand as the ‘bubble gum’ music that was prevalent in that period between the height of Elvis/Jerry Lee/Carl Perkins classic rock & rock and the Beatles and The Rolling Stones. That is where things were left until a dozen years ago or more when Etta ‘stole the show’ at the Newport Folk Festival. Well, we live and learn.
The stand outs here include: the rocking “I Just Want To Make Love To You,” the saucy “Something’s Got A Hold Of Me,” and an inspired “Sweet Little Angel”. The real stroy here though this is five star Etta.
Artist: Etta James lyrics Album: At Last! Year: 1961 Title: I Just Want To Make Love To You
Lyrics to I Just Want To Make Love To You :
I don't want you to be no slave;
I don't want you to work all day;
But I want you to be true,
And I just wanna make love to you.
...Love to you...
...Love to you...Ooooohhooh...
...Love to you...
All I want to do is wash your clothes;
I don't want to keep you indoors.
There is nothing for you to do
But keep me makin' love to you.
...Love to you...
...Love to you...Ooooohhooh...
...Love to you...
And I can tell by the way you walk that walk;
I can hear by the way you talk that talk;
I can know by the way you treat your girl
That I can give you all the lovin' in the whole wide world!
All I want you to do is make your bread!
Just to make sure you're well-fed!
I don't want you sad and blue!
And I just wanna make love to you.
...Love to you...
...Love to you...Ooooohhooh...
...Love to you...Ooooh.
And I can tell by the way you walk that walk;
And I can hear by the way you talk that talk;
And I can know by the way you treat your girl
That I could give you all the lovin' in the whole wide world!
Oh, all I wanna do - All I wanna do is cook your bread!
Just to make sure that you're well-fed!
I don't want you sad and blue,
And I just wanna make love to you.
...Love to you...
...Love to you...Ooooohhooh...
...Yeah, love to you...Ooooh.
...Love to you...
Click on the title to link to YouTube's film clip of Etta James performing her classic "I'd Rather Go Blind".
CD Review
Etta James: Her Best- The Chess Records 50th Anniversary Edition, Etta James, MCA UK, 1997
The name Etta James goes back in my memory to associations with my first listening to rock music on the old transistor radio in the late 1950’s. At that time, I believe, her music was in the old doo wop tradition of the late 1950’s, a music that I was fairly soon to dismiss out of hand as the ‘bubble gum’ music that was prevalent in that period between the height of Elvis/Jerry Lee/Carl Perkins classic rock & rock and the Beatles and The Rolling Stones. That is where things were left until a dozen years ago or more when Etta ‘stole the show’ at the Newport Folk Festival. Well, we live and learn.
The stand outs here include: the classic Etta song “I’d Rather Go Blind,” the saucy “Tell Mama,” and “All The Way Down”. Overall this is a lesser Etta compilation, especially for a Chess 50th Anniversary edition item that usually has higher quality copies of the tracks.
Etta James - I'd Rather Go Blind Lyrics
Something told me it was over
When I saw you and her talkin'
Something deep down in my soul said, 'Cry, girl'
When I saw you and that girl walkin' around
Whoo, I would rather, I would rather go blind, boy
Then to see you walk away from me, child, no
Whoo, so you see, I love you so much
That I don't wanna watch you leave me, baby
Most of all, I just don't, I just don't wanna be free, no
Whoo, whoo, I was just, I was just, I was just
Sittin here thinkin', of your kiss and your warm embrace, yeah
When the reflection in the glass that I held to my lips now, baby
Revealed the tears that was on my face, yeah
Whoo and baby, baby, I'd rather, I'd rather be blind, boy
Then to see you walk away, see you walk away from me, yeah
Whoo, baby, baby, baby, I'd rather be blind...
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of The Rolling Stones performing "Sweet Neo-Con" from their "A Bigger Bang" album.
CD Review
A Bigger Bang, The Rolling Stones, 2005
Hey, in 2009 no one, including this reviewer, NEEDS to comment on the fact that The Rolling Stones, pound for pound, have over forty plus years earned their place as the number one band in the rock `n' roll pantheon. Still, it is interesting to listen once again to the guys when they were at the height of their musical powers (and as high, most of the time, as Georgia pines). This album represents a comeback from the tail end of their most creative period long ago in conjunction with their 2005 world tour (endless tour, right?), moreover, unlike let us say Bob Dylan who has produced more creative work for longer, is the `golden era" of the Stone Age. The album, however, is a little uneven in spots reflecting, I think, a certain exhaustion of material that they could call totally their own unlike the time when they owned a big chunk of rock 'n'roll in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
The real stick out here is the Muddy Waters-like blues "The Back Of My Hand". The other stick-outs here are "Rain Fall Down" and "Oh No, Not You Again" with a slight kudos for "Sweet Neo-Con" from group that has not expressed much politically for a long, long time.
SWEET NEO CON (M. Jagger/K. Richards)
You call yourself a Christian I think that you're a hypocrite You say you are a patriot I think that you're a crock of shit
And listen, I love gasoline I drink it every day But it's getting very pricey And who is going to pay
How come you're so wrong My sweet neo con.... Yeah
It's liberty for all 'Cause democracy's our style Unless you are against us Then it's prison without trial
But one thing that is certain Life is good at Haliburton If you're really so astute You should invest at Brown & Root.... Yeah
How come you're so wrong My sweet neo con If you turn out right I'll eat my hat tonight
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah....
It's getting very scary Yes, I'm frightened out of my wits There's bombers in my bedroom Yeah and it's giving me the shits
We must have loads more bases To protect us from our foes Who needs these foolish friendships We're going it alone
How come you're so wrong My sweet neo con Where's the money gone In the Pentagon
