Happy Birthday Jim Kweskin-The Max Daddy Of Jug- *A “Blues Mama” For Our Times- The Blues Of Maria Muldaur

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Maria Muldaur Performing "Handy Man".

CD Review

Naughty Bawdy &Blue, Maria Muldaur, Stony Plain Records, 2007

This CD review was originally posted in 2007 elsewhere hence the now dated reference to ex-president Clinton…

If you ever wondered who, if anyone, was going to carry on the tradition of great female blues singers now that the likes of Bessie Smith, Mamie Smith, Sippy Wallace and Memphis Minnie have long been gone from the scene look no further. As I pointed out in a review of her last album, "Sweet Lovin' Ol' Soul",. Maria Muldaur has paid her dues and here she is doing it all over again. This is the third album in series that she started in 2002 to cover the old great blues singers. In the present album she covers the above-mentioned singers and others in a style in which they would surely recognize as their own. These are the classic female blues singers of the 1920's and 30's. Maria is in fast company but she does not miss a beat.

Pay particular attention to her rendition of Victoria Spivey's "Handy Man" (Spivey"s "TB Blues" is nicely done, as well). Check out what the divine Ms. Spivey had to say about Maria on the liner notes. And do check out the covers of Sippy Wallace songs, "Up Country Blues" and "Separation Blues". Damn if Maria does not sound like that unfortunately not well known singer (Maria also covered a Wallace classic "Don't Advertise Your Man" on her last album). Update: I just found out recently (2009) that Sippy Wallace appeared with the Jim Kweskin Jug Band (Maria's old group) in the 1960's. Now it all makes sense, right?

I would also add that I had the pleasure of hearing some of the cuts on this album live in concert by Maria in Cambridge (one of her old stomping grounds in her youthful days with the Kweskin Jug Band back in the sixties) and she can still belt them out. If there is any truth in the assumption that former President Clinton was our first `black' president no one can deny that Maria is our first `black' classic blues singer. And has the stage presence, to boot. The tradition lives. Listen on.


"Don’t Advertise Your Man"

This Tom-Swifter,
A blab-mouth sister,
Had herself a lovin' sheik!
She had a way of braggin'
Kept her tongue a-waggin',
With every woman she'd meet;
So her bosom friend
Vamped her lovin' man,
He quit her cold as ice;
Now she never had
So much to say,
But gives very woman this advice:

Open your eyes,
Woman, be wise!
And don't you advertise your man!
It's all right to have a little bird in a bush,
But it ain't like the one you've got in your hand.
Your head will hang low,
Your heart will ache,
Your threatenin' frog's
Gonna vamp and snake,
So take a tip,
Hold your lip,
And don't you advertise your man!

What a blunder
To blow like thunder,
When you love you love your daddy so!
You better keep him hidin',
Don't you be confidin'
To every woman you know!
If you do, you'll find,
Some gal will sure be tryin'
Her best to take him 'way from you!
So you'd better heed my good advice,
And do like a woman ought to do.

Don't be a nut,
Keep your mouth shut,
And don't you advertise your man!
It's all right to brag about your hat or your dress,
But don't go blowin' 'bout the man you love best!
Just rave about the things your man can do,
And some woman will sure take him away from you!
So take a tip,
Hold your lip,
And don't you advertise your man!
And don't you advertise your man!

Happy Birthday Jim Kweskin-The Max Daddy Of Jug- *A “Blues Mama” For Our Times Encore- The Blues Of Maria Muldaur

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Maria Muldaur Performing " Richland Woman Blues".

CD Review

Sweet Lovin’ Ol’ Soul, Maria Muldaur, Stony Plain Records, 2005

I have often noted that when white women cover blues songs done by the old classic black singers like Memphis Minnie, Bessie Smith, Big Mama Thornton and the like some undefined ingredient is missing. Call it "soul" or the "miseries" or whatever you like but somehow the depths of a song are generally not reached. Not so here, as Maria Muldaur presents the second of an anticipated three albums covering some great classics of old time barrel house blues. (The first album was "Richland Woman's Blues", taking the title from a song by Mississippi John Hurt so you know Maria is reaching for the blues roots, no question).

Bessie Smith's "Empty Bed Blues" sticks out as do her duos with the legendary Taj Mahal. Blind Willie Johnson’s classic religiously-tinged “Take A Stand” and Bessie Smith's (with Clara Smith) “I’m Going Back” get their proper workout. The big highlight though (and a very necessary “re-discovery”) is the tribute to Memphis Minnie, “She Put Me Outdoors”. And a very necessary “discovery” of the very hard times, hard hustle and hard knocks of the female blues singer, “Tricks Ain’t Walkin”. More needs to be said on that question. As Maria points out in her liner notes some of these songs here are ones that she wanted to do earlier in her career but was either talked out or could not do justice to then. But now Maria knows she has paid her dues, I know she has paid her dues, and you will too. Listen.

Blues Lyrics - Mississippi John Hurt
Richland's Woman Blues
All rights to lyrics included on these pages belong to the artists and authors of the works.
All lyrics, photographs, soundclips and other material on this website may only be used for private study, scholarship or research.

Gimme red lipstick and a bright purple rouge
A shingle bob haircut
and a shot of good boo'

Hurry down, sweet daddy, come blowin' your horn
If you come too late, sweet mama will be gone
Come along young man, everything settin' right
My husbands goin' away till next Saturday night

Hurry down, sweet daddy, come blowin' you horn
If you come too late, sweet mama will be gone
Now, I'm raring to go, got red shoes on my feet
My mind is sittin' right for a Tin Lizzie
seat

Hurry down, sweet daddy, come blowin' you horn
If you come too late, sweet mama will be gone
The red rooster said, "Cockle-doodle-do-do"
The Richard's' woman said, "Any dude will do"

Hurry down, sweet daddy, come blowin' you horn
If you come too late, sweet mama will be gone
With rosy red garters, pink hose on my feet
Turkey red bloomer, with a rumble seat

Hurry down, sweet daddy, come blowin' you horn
If you come too late, sweet mama will be gone
Every Sunday mornin', church people watch me go
My wings sprouted out, and the preacher told me so

Hurry down, sweet daddy, come blowin' you horn
If you come too late, sweet mama will be gone
Dress skirt cut high, then they cut low
Don't think I'm a sport, keep on watchin' me go

Hurry down, sweet daddy, come blowin' you horn
If you come too late, sweet mama will be gone

Happy Birthday Jim Kweskin-The Max Daddy Of Jug- On Memphis Minnie's Birthday-*Once Again A “Blues Mama” For Our Times- The Blues Of Maria Muldaur

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Maria Muldaur Perfoming "One Hour Mama".

CD Review

Richland Woman, Maria Muldaur, Stony Plain Records, 2001

This review was originally posted as a review for Maria Muldaur’s “Sweet Lovin' Ol’ Soul”. The main points made there apply here as well.

I have often noted that when white women cover blues songs done by the old classic black singers like Memphis Minnie, Bessie Smith, Big Mama Thornton and the like some undefined ingredient is missing. Call it "soul" or the "miseries" or whatever you like but somehow the depths of a song are generally not reached. Not so here, as Maria Muldaur presents the second of an anticipated three albums covering some great classics of old time barrel house blues. (The first album was "Richland Woman's Blues", taking the title from a song by Mississippi John Hurt so you know Maria is reaching for the blues roots, no question).

Bessie Smith's "Put It Right Here" sticks out here. Blind Willie Johnson’s classic religiously-tinged “Soul Of A Man” and Mississippi Fred McDowell’s "I’ve Got To Move” get their proper workout. The big highlight though (and a very necessary “re-discovery”) is the tribute to Memphis Minnie, “In My Girlish Days” (I wish Maria would cover “Bumble Bee”. Whoa). As Maria points out in her liner notes (to “Sweet Lovin’ Ol’ Soul”) some of these songs here are ones that she wanted to do earlier in her career but was either talked out or could not do justice to then. But now Maria knows she has paid her dues, I know she has paid her dues, and you will too. Listen.

"IN MY GIRLISH DAYS"

Late hours at night, trying to play my hand
Through my window, out stepped a man
I didn't know no better
Oh boys
In my girlish days

My mama cried, papa did, too
Oh, daughter, look what a shame on you
I didn't know no better
Oh boys
In my girlish days

I flagged a train, didn't have a dime
Trying to run away from that home of mine
I didn't know no better
Oh boys
In my girlish days

I hit the highway, caught me a truck
Nineteen and seventeen, when the winter was tough
I didn't know no better
Oh boys
In my girlish days

(spoken: Lord, play it for me now)

All of my playmates is not surprised,
I had to travel 'fore I got wise
I found out better
And I still got my girlish ways

Happy Birthday To You-*A Mixed Bag Musical Potpourri-Jazz, Blues, Gospel, Rock And Rockabilly- The BlueGrass Gospel Project

Happy Birthday To You-

By Lester Lannon

I am devoted to a local folk station WUMB which is run out of the campus of U/Mass-Boston over near Boston Harbor. At one time this station was an independent one based in Cambridge but went under when their significant demographic base deserted or just passed on once the remnant of the folk minute really did sink below the horizon.

So much for radio folk history except to say that the DJs on many of the programs go out of their ways to commemorate or celebrate the birthdays of many folk, rock, blues and related genre artists. So many and so often that I have had a hard time keeping up with noting those occurrences in this space which after all is dedicated to such happening along the historical continuum.

To “solve” this problem I have decided to send birthday to that grouping of musicians on an arbitrary basis as I come across their names in other contents or as someone here has written about them and we have them in the archives. This may not be the best way to acknowledge them, but it does do so in a respectful manner.    

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The Bluegrass Gospel Project Doing "Take Me In Your Life Boat".


CD Review

“The Heavenly Choir”

Wander On, the Bluegrass Gospel Project, Vital Records, 2005


At first blush it would not appear that a somewhat secular bluegrass tradition and the very definitely religious-oriented gospel tradition would be a good mix. Silly me though. Of course they mix if one thinks about the roots of both genre then, while not a ‘match made in heaven”, the two traditions share at least a common isolated mountain Saturday night partying- Sunday repentance connection. That said, this group composed mainly of denizens of Vermont (although I do not believe most of them are natives) has caught the essence of both traditions, complete with mandolin, fiddle, banjo, guitar and the like. A remarkable group of talented musicians and with the vocals of Patti Casey they have everything they need to lead a ‘heavenly choir” (or musically set the barn on fire).

I have actually heard this group in person and between the two their live performance gives a better take on how good they really are. For those not so fortunate this CD will be a fine substitute though. Feast on “Angel Band” and the classic Tommy Dorsey (the old time Blind Willie McTell blues companion turned gospel singer not the 1940’s band leader) song “Come, Let Us Go Back To God”. I just wish “Poughkeepsie” was included here. Patty Casey “amped it up” on that one at the live performance I mentioned above.

Stanley Brothers
Angel Band lyrics

My latest sun is sinking fast
My race is nearly run
My longest trials now are past
My triumph has begun

Chorus
Oh come angel band
Come and around me stand
Bear me away on your snow white wings
To my immortal home
Bear me away on you snow white wings
To my immortal home

Oh bear my longing soul to him
Who bled and died for me
Whose blood now cleanses from all sins
And brings me victory

[chorus]

I know I'm near the holy ranks
Of friends and kindred dear
I brush the dew on Jordan's banks
The crossing must be near

I've almost gained my heavenly home
My spirit loudly sings
The holy ones, behold they come
I hear the noise of wings

On The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains- *Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By- Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit"

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Billie Holiday performing Strange Fruit.

February Is Black History Month


*FromThe Torch Singer's Torch Singer-Billie Holiday- American Left History blog, June 9, 2008


DVD REVIEW

Billie’s Best, Polygram Records, 1992

In my book, and I am hardly alone on this, Billie Holiday is the torch singer's torch singer. Maybe it is the phrasing on her best songs. That well-placed hush. Maybe it is the unbreakable link between her voice when she is on a roll and the arrangements. Hell, maybe in the end it was the dope but, by Jesus, she could sing a modern ballad of love, lost or both like no other. And if it was the dope, let me say this- a `normal' nice singer could sing for a hundred years and never get it right, the way Billie could get it right when she was at her best. Dope or no dope. Was she always at her best? Hell no, as the current compilation makes clear. These recordings done between 1945 and her death in 1959 for Verve show the highs but also the lows as the voice faltered a little and the dope put the nerves on edge toward the end.

Many of the songs on the current compilation are technically sound, a few not, as is to be expected on such re-mastering. You will like Come Rain or Come Shine, Stars Fell On Alabama and Stormy Blues. A tear will come to your eye with Some Other Spring and East of the Sun. The surprise of the package is Speak Low, a sultry song with tropical background beat. That one is very good, indeed.

One last word- I have occasionally mentioned my love of Billie Holiday's music to younger acquaintances. Some of their responses reflecting, I think, the influence of the movie version of her life (Lady Sings the Blues with Diana Ross) or some unsympathetic black history 'uplift' type views on her life have written her off as an 'addled' doper. Here is my rejoinder- If when I am blue and need a pick me-up and put on a Billie platter (CD)and feel better then, my friends, I do not give a damn about the dope. Enough said.

Happy Birthday Townes =In The Time Of The Time Of An Outlaw Country Music Moment- The Belfast Cowboy Rides Again Van Morrison’s “Magic Time”

Click on the headline to link a YouTube film clip of Van Morrison performing his classic Into The Mystic.

CD Review

Magic Time , Van Morrison, Exile Records, 2005

The basic comments here have been used, used many times, to review other Van Morrison albums from various points in his long and honorable career.

Apparently just now, although this time rather accidentally, I am on something of an outlaw country moment tear, again. I have mentioned on previously occasions when I have discussed county music, or rather more correctly outlaw country music, that I had a very short, but worthwhile period when I was immersed in this genre in the late 1970s. After tiring somewhat of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and other more well know country outlaws I gravitated toward the music, eerily beautiful and haunting music, of Townes Van Zandt whose Steve Earle tribute album Townes I have recently reviewed in this space. As I noted there, as well, while this outlaw country thing was short-lived and I scrambled back to my first loves, blues, rock and folk music I always had time to listen to Townes and his funny mix of blues, folk rock, rock folk, and just downright outlaw country.

And that brings us to the album under review, Magic Time, and another “outlaw” country music man, the Belfast cowboy Van Morrison. Wait a minute, Van Morrison? Belfast cowboy? Okay, let me take a few steps back. I first heard Van Morrison in his 1960s rock period when I flipped out over his Into The Mystic on his Moondance album. And when I later saw him doing some blues stuff highlighted by his appearance in Martin Scorsese PBS History of Blues series several years ago I also flipped out, and said yes, brother blues. But somewhere along the way he turned again on us and has “reinvented” himself as the “son”, the legitimate son, of Hank Williams. But Van Morrison is no one-trick pony as his long and hard-bitten career proves.

If you do not believe me then just listen to him ante up on his Keep Mediocrity At Bay , a classic folk bluesy number; the thoughtful Just Like Greta; the pathos of Lonely And Blue; the title song Magic Time; and, something out of time,Evening Train. The Belfast cowboy, indeed, although I always thought cowboys wore their emotions down deep, not on their blues high white note sleeves.

In Honor Of Janis Joplin's Birthday -From The Archives -The 50th Anniversary Of The Summer Of Love- When The Music’s Over-On The Anniversary Of Janis Joplin’s Death

The 50th Anniversary Of The Summer Of Love- When The Music’s Over-On The  Anniversary Of Janis Joplin’s Death

Classic Rock : 1968: Shakin’ All Over, various artists, Time-Life Music, 1989

Scene: Brought to mind by a the cover art on this CD of a Janis Joplin-like female performer belting out some serious blues rock in the heat of the “Generation of ‘68” night.

Josh Breslin (a. k. a. the Prince of Love, although some yellow bus wit made a joke of that moniker calling him the Prince of Lvov, some Podunk town in Poland, or some place like that) was weary, weary as hell, road- weary, drug-weary, Captain Crunch’s now Big Sur–based magical mystery tour, merry prankster, yellow brick road bus-weary, even hanging around with his “papa,” “Far-Out” Phil Larkin who had gotten him through some pretty rough spots weary. Hell, he was girl-weary too, girl weary ever since his latest girlfriend, Gypsy Lady (nee Phyllis McBride), decided that she just had to go back to her junior year of college at Berkeley in order to finish some paper on the zodiac signs and their meaning for the new age rising. Ya, okay Gypsy, do what you have to do. Moreover this summer of 1968, June to be exact, after a year bouncing between summers of love, autumns of drugs, winters of discontent, and springs of political madness what with Johnson’s resignation, Robert Kennedy’s assassination piled on to that of King’s had taken a lot out of him, including his weight, weight loss that his already slim runner’s frame could not afford.

Moreover, now the chickens were coming home to roost. Before he had joined Captain Crunch’s merry prankster crew in San Francisco, got “on the bus,” in the youth nation tribal parlance, last summer he had assumed that he would enter State U in the fall (University of Maine, for those who did not know). After a summer of love with Butterfly Swirl though (his temperature rose every time he thought about her and her cute little tricks to get him going sexually even now) and then a keen interest in a couple of other young women before Gypsy Lady landed on him, some heavy drug experiences that he was still trying to figure out, his start–up friendship with Phil, and the hard fact that he just did not want to go home now that he had found “family” he decided that he needed to “see the world” for a while instead. And he had, at least enough to weary him.

What he did not figure on, or what got blasted into the deep recesses of his brain just a couple of days ago, was a letter from his parents with a draft notice from his local board enclosed. Hell’s bells he had better get back, weary or not, and get some school stuff going real fast, right now fast. There was one thing for sure, one nineteen-year old Joshua Peter Breslin, Olde Saco, Maine High School Class of 1967, was not going with some other class of young men to ‘Nam to be shot at, or to shoot.

Funny, Josh thought, as he mentally prepared himself for the road back to Olde Saco, how the past couple of months had just kind of drifted by and that he really was ready to get serious. The only thing that had kind of perked him up lately was Ruby Red Lips (nee Sandra Kelly), who had just got “on the bus” from someplace down South like Georgia, or Alabama and who had a great collection of blues records that he was seriously getting into (as well as seriously into Ruby although she seemed slow, very slow, to get his message). Josh, throughout high school and even on the bus, was driven by rock ‘n’ roll. Period. He got surprised one day when he heard Ruby playing Shake, Rattle, and Roll. He asked, “Is that Carl Perkins?” Ruby laughed, laughed a laugh that he found appealing and said, “No silly, that's the king of be-bop blues, Big Joe Turner. Want to hear more stuff?” And that was that. Names like Skip James, Howlin’ Wolf, Robert Johnson, Son House, Muddy Waters and Little Walter started to fill his musical universe.

What got him really going though were the women singers, Sippie Wallace, mad Bessie Smith, a whole bunch of other barrelhouse blues-singers named Smith, Memphis Minnie and the one that really, really got to him, “Big Mama” Thornton. The latter belting out a bluesy rendition of Hound Dog that made Elvis' seem kind of punk, and best of all Piece Of My Heart.

Then one night Ruby took him to club over in Monterrey, the Blue Note, a club for young blues talent, mainly, that was a stepping-stone to getting work at the Monterrey Pop Festival each year. There he heard, heard if you can believe this, some freckled, red-headed whiskey-drinking off the hip girl, ya just a wisp of a girl, from Podunk, Texas, or maybe Oklahoma who was singing Big Mama’s Piece of My Heart. And then Ball and Chain, Little School Girl, and Little Red Rooster. Hell, she had the joint jumping until the early hours for just as long as guys kept putting drinks in front of her. What a night, what a blues singer.

Just now though Ruby Red Lips came over to him, kind of perky and kind of with that look in her that he was getting to catch on to when a girl was interested in him and said, “Hey, Janis, that singer from the Blue Note, is going to be at Monterrey Pops next month with a band to back her up, want to go? And, do you want to go to the Blue Note with me tonight?” After answering, yes, yes, to both those questions the Prince of Love (and not some dinky Lvov either) figured he could go back to old life Olde Saco by late August and still be okay but he had better grab Ruby now while he could.

In Honor Of Janis Joplin's Birthday-From The Archives -The 50th Anniversary O The Summer Of Love- When The Music’s Over-On The Anniversary Of Janis Joplin’s Death-Magical Realism 101

The 50th Anniversary O The Summer Of Love- When The Music’s Over-On The Anniversary Of Janis Joplin’s Death-Magical Realism 101

Scene: Brought to mind by the cover art on some fogged memory accompanying CD booklet of a wispy, blue-jeaned, blouse hanging off one shoulder, bare-foot, swirling mass of red hair, down home Janis Joplin-like female performer belting out some serious blues rock in the heat of the “Generation of ‘68” night. In the time of our time. Belting out songs, band backed-up and boozed-up, probably Southern Comfort if it was late and if the package store was short of some good cutting whiskey, but singing from somewhere beyond a no good man, no job, no roof over a head, no pocket dough, no prospects and a ton of busted dreams in some now forgotten barrelhouse, chittlin’ circuit bowling alley complete with barbecued ribs smoking out back or down town “colored” theater. Or the echo of that scene, okay.
*******
Josh Breslin (a. k. a. the Prince of Love, although some merry prankster yellow brick road bus wit made a joke of that moniker calling him the Prince of Lvov, some Podunk town in Poland, or some place like that) was weary, weary as hell, road- weary, drug-weary, Captain Crunch’s now Big Sur–based magical mystery tour, merry prankster, yellow brick road bus-weary, weary even of hanging out with his “papa,” “Far-Out” Phil Larkin who had gotten him through some pretty rough spots weary. Hell, he was girl-weary too, girl weary ever since his latest girlfriend, Gypsy Lady (nee Phyllis McBride), decided that she just had to go back to her junior year of college at Berkeley in order to finish up some paper on the zodiac signs and their meaning for the new age rising. Ya, okay Gypsy, do what you have to do, the Prince mused to himself. Chuckled really, term paper stuff was just not his “thing” right then.

Moreover this summer of 1968, June to be exact, after a year bouncing between summers of love, 1967 version to be exact, autumns of drugs, strange brews of hyper-colored experience drugs and high shamanic medicine man aztec druid flame throws, winters of Paseo Robles brown hills discontent, brown rolling hills until he sickened of rolling, the color brown, hills, slopes, plains, everything, and springs of political madness what with Johnson’s resignation, Robert Kennedy’s assassination piled on to that of Martin Luther King’s had taken a lot out of him, including his weight, weight loss that his already slim former high school runner’s frame could not afford.

Now the chickens had come home to roost. Before he had joined Captain Crunch’s merry prankster crew in San Francisco, got “on the bus,” in the youth nation tribal parlance, last summer he had assumed, after graduating from high school, that he would enter State U in the fall (University of Maine, the Prince is nothing but a Mainiac, Olde Saco section, for those who did not know). After a summer of love with Butterfly Swirl though before she went back to her golden-haired surfer boy back down in Carlsbad (his temperature rose even now every time he thought about her and her cute little tricks to get him going sexually) and then a keen interest in a couple of other young women before Gypsy Lady landed on him, some heavy drug experiences that he was still trying to figure out, his start–up friendship with Phil, and the hard fact that he just did not want to go home now that he had found “family” he decided that he needed to “see the world” for a while instead. And he had, at least enough to weary him.

What he did not figure on, or what got blasted into the deep recesses of his brain just a couple of days ago, was a letter from his parents with a draft notice from his local board enclosed. Hell’s bells he had better get back, weary or not, and get some school stuff going real fast, right now fast. There was one thing for sure, one nineteen-year old Joshua Lawrence Breslin, Olde Saco, Maine High School Class of 1967, was not going with some other class of young men to ‘Nam to be shot at, or to shoot.

Funny, Josh thought, as he mentally prepared himself for the road back to Olde Saco, how the past couple of months had just kind of drifted by and that he really was ready to get serious. The only thing that had kind of perked him up lately was Ruby Red Lips (nee Sandra Kelly), who had just got “on the bus” from someplace down South like Georgia, or Alabama and who had a great collection of blues records that he was seriously getting into (as well as seriously into Miss Ruby, as he called her as a little bait, a little come on bait, playing on her somewhere south drawl, although she seemed slow, very slow, to get his message).

Josh, all throughout high school and even on the bus, was driven by rock ‘n’ roll. Period. Guys like Elvis, Chuck, Jerry Lee, even a gal like Wanda Jackson, when they were hungry, and that hunger not only carried them to the stars but slaked some weird post-World War II, red scare, cold war hunger in guys like Josh Breslin although he never, never in a million years would have articulated it that way back then. That was infernal Captain Crunch’s work (Captain is the “owner” of the “bus” and a story all his own but that is for another time) always trying to put things in historical perspective or the exact ranking in some mythical pantheon that he kept creating (and recreating especially after a “dip” of Kool-Aid, LSD for the squares, okay).

But back to Ruby love. He got a surprise one day when he heard Ruby playing Shake, Rattle, and Roll. He asked, “Is that Carl Perkins?” Ruby laughed, laughed a laugh that he found appealing and he felt was meant to be a little coquettish and said, “No silly, that's the king of be-bop blues, Big Joe Turner. Want to hear more stuff?” And that was that. Names like Skip James, Howlin’ Wolf, Robert Johnson, Son House, Muddy Waters and Little Walter started to fill his musical universe.

What got him really going though were the women singers, Sippie Wallace that someone, Bonnie Raitt or Maria Muldaur, had found in old age out in some boondock church social or something, mad Bessie Smith squeezed dry, freeze-dried by some no account Saint Louis man and left wailing, empty bed, gin house wailing ever after, a whole bunch of other barrelhouse blues-singers named Smith, Memphis Minnie, the queen of the double entendre, sex version, with her butcher, baker, candlestick-maker men, doing, well doing the do, okay, and the one that really, really got to him, “Big Mama” Thornton. The latter belting out a bluesy rendition of Hound Dog made just for her that made Elvis' seem kind of punk, and best of all a full-blast Piece Of My Heart.

Then one night Ruby took him to club over in Monterrey just up the road from the Big Sur merry prankster yellow bus camp, the Blue Note, a club for young blues talent, mainly, that was a stepping-stone to getting some work at the Monterrey Pop Festival held each year. There he heard, heard if you can believe this, some freckled, red-headed whiskey-drinking off the hip girl (or maybe some cheap gin or rotgut Southern Comfort, cheap and all the in between rage for those saving their dough for serious drugs).

Ya just a wisp of a girl, wearing spattered blue-jeans, some damn moth-eaten tee-shirt, haphazardly tie-dyed by someone on a terminal acid trip, barefoot, from Podunk, Texas, or maybe Oklahoma, (although he had seen a fair share of the breed in Fryeburg Fair Maine) who was singing Big Mama’s Piece of My Heart. And then Ball and Chain, Little School Girl, and Little Red Rooster.

Hell, she had the joint jumping until the early hours for just as long as guys kept putting drinks in front of her. And maybe some sweet sidle promise, who knows in that alcohol blaze around three in the morning. All Josh knew was this woman, almost girlish except for her sharp tongue and that eternal hardship voice, that no good man, no luck except bad luck voice, that spoke of a woman’s sorrow back to primordial times, had that certain something, that something hunger that he recognized in young Elvis and the guys. And that something Josh guessed would take them over the hump into that new day they were trying to create on the bus, and a thousand other buses like it. What a night, what a blues singer.

The next day Ruby Red Lips came over to him, kind of perky and kind of with that just slightly off-hand look in her eye that he was getting to catch on to when a girl was interested in him, and said, “Hey, Janis, that singer from the Blue Note, is going to be at Monterrey Pops next month with a band to back her up, want to go? And, do you want to go to the Blue Note with me tonight?” After answering, yes, yes, to both those questions the Prince of Love (and not some dinky Lvov either, whoever that dull-wit was) figured he could go back to old life Olde Saco by late August, sign up for State U., and still be okay but that he had better grab Ruby now while he could.

Happy Birthday Townes In The Time Of The Time Of The British Blues Explosion- He Ain't No One-Trick Pony- The Belfast Cowboy Rides Again-Van Morrison’s “Back On Top”

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Van Morrison performing the title song from the album under review, Back On Top.

CD Review

Back On Top, Van Morrison, Exile Productions, 1999

Apparently just now, although this time rather accidentally, I am on something of an outlaw country moment tear, again. I have mentioned on previously occasions when I have discussed county music, or rather more correctly outlaw country music, that I had a very short, but worthwhile period when I was immersed in this genre in the late 1970s. After tiring somewhat of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and other more well know country outlaws I gravitated toward the music, eerily beautiful and haunting music, of Townes Van Zandt whose Steve Earle tribute album Townes I have recently reviewed in this space. As I noted there, as well, while this outlaw country thing was short-lived and I scrambled back to my first loves, blues, rock and folk music I always had time to listen to Townes and his funny mix of blues, folk rock, rock folk, and just downright outlaw country.

And that brings us to the album under review, Back on Top, and another “outlaw” country music man, the "Belfast Cowboy," Van Morrison. Wait a minute, Van Morrison? Belfast cowboy? Okay, let me take a few steps back. I first heard Van Morrison in his 1960s rock period when I flipped out over his Into The Mystic on his Moondance album. And when I later saw him doing some blues stuff highlighted by his appearance in Martin Scorsese PBS History of Blues series several years ago I also flipped out, and said yes, brother blues. But somewhere along the way he turned again on us and has “reinvented” himself as the “son”, the legitimate son, of Hank Williams. And hence the Belfast cowboy. But he ain't no one-trick pony, no way. This guy is a musical songbook of the late 20th century.

If you do not believe me then just listen to him ante up on Goin’ Down Geneva, a classic bluesy number; the thoughtful The Philosophers Stone; the pathos of High Summer; the title song Back On Top; and, something out of time, something out of a place that few musicians, hell, few people, go Golden Autumn Day. The Belfast Cowboy, indeed, although I always thought cowboys worn their emotions down deep, not on their blues high white note sleeves.

Happy Birthday Townes-In The Time Of The Time Of The British Blues Explosion- He Ain't No One-Trick Pony-The Belfast Cowboy Rides Again- Van Morrison’s "How Long Has This Been Going On"

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Van Morrison performing the title song from the album under review, How Long Has This Been Going On.

CD Review

How Long Has This Been Going On, Van Morrison, with Georgie Fame and the Flames, Exile Productions, 1995

Apparently just now, although this time rather accidentally, I am on something of an outlaw country moment tear, again. I have mentioned on previously occasions when I have discussed county music, or rather more correctly outlaw country music, that I had a very short, but worthwhile period when I was immersed in this genre in the late 1970s. After tiring somewhat of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and other more well know country outlaws I gravitated toward the music, eerily beautiful and haunting music, of Townes Van Zandt whose Steve Earle tribute album Townes I have recently reviewed in this space. As I noted there, as well, while this outlaw country thing was short-lived and I scrambled back to my first loves, blues, rock and folk music I always had time to listen to Townes and is funny mix of blues, folk rock, rock folk, and just downright outlaw country.

And that brings us to the album under review, Pay The Devil, and another “outlaw” country music man, the Belfast cowboy Van Morrison. Wait a minute, Van Morrison? Belfast cowboy? Okay, let me take a few steps back. I first heard Van Morrison in his 1960s rock period when I flipped out over his Into The Mystic on his Moondance album. And when I later saw him doing some blues stuff highlighted by his appearance in Martin Scorsese PBS History of Blues series several years ago I also flipped out, and said yes, brother blues. But somewhere along the way he turned again on us and has “reinvented” himself as the “son”, the legitimate son, of Hank Williams. And hence the Belfast Cowboy. But this ain't no one-trick pony. No way.

If you do not believe me then just listen to him ante up on Early In The Morning , a classic bluesy number; the thoughtful Gershwin tuneHow Long Has This Been Going On ; the pathos of That’s Life;and, Blues In The Night; and, something out of lost time,Early In The Morning. The Belfast Cowboy, indeed, although I always thought cowboys worn their emotions down deep, not on their blues high white note sleeves. And kudos to Brother Fame, who rode that same train, as well.

Happy Birthday Townes-In The Time Of The Time Of The British Blues Explosion-He Ain't No One-Trick Pony- The Belfast Cowboy Rides Again Van Morrison’s “Keep It Simple”

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Van Morrison performing Behind The Ritual.

CD Review

Keep It Simple, Van Morrison, Exile Records, 2008

Apparently just now, although this time rather accidentally, I am on something of an outlaw country moment tear, again. I have mentioned on previously occasions when I have discussed county music, or rather more correctly outlaw country music, that I had a very short, but worthwhile period when I was immersed in this genre in the late 1970s. After tiring somewhat of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and other more well know country outlaws I gravitated toward the music, eerily beautiful and haunting music, of Townes Van Zandt whose Steve Earle tribute album Townes I have recently reviewed in this space. As I noted there, as well, while this outlaw country thing was short-lived and I scrambled back to my first loves, blues, rock and folk music I always had time to listen to Townes and is funny mix of blues, folk rock, rock folk, and just downright outlaw country.

And that brings us to the album under review, Keep It Simple, and another “outlaw” country music man, the Belfast cowboy Van Morrison. Wait a minute, Van Morrison? Belfast cowboy? Okay, let me take a few steps back. I first heard Van Morrison in his 1960s rock period when I flipped out over his Into The Mystic on his Moondance album. And when I later saw him doing some blues stuff highlighted by his appearance in Martin Scorsese PBS History of Blues series several years ago I also flipped out, and said yes, brother blues. But somewhere along the way he turned again on us and has “reinvented” himself as the “son”, the legitimate son, of Hank Williams. And hence the Belfast Cowboy. But he ain't no one-trick pony.No way, no how. Too many hard life lessons "learned."

If you do not believe me then just listen to him ante up on School of Hard Knocks, a classic bluesy number; the thoughtful Song Of Home; the pathos of No Thing; the title song reflecting back from back in youthful rock times, Keep It Simple; and, something out of time, Behind The Ritual. The Belfast Cowboy, indeed, although I always thought cowboys worn their emotions down deep, not on their blues high white note sleeves. But I guess they do.

Van Morrison, barrelhouse blues, folk rock, outlaw country music, Townes Van Zandt, be-bop night, rock and roll,

Happy Birthday Townes- In The Time Of The Time Of The British Blues Explosion- This Ain't No One-Trick Pony-The Belfast Cowboy Rides Again Van Morrison’s “The Best Of Van Morrison, Volume Three”

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Van Morrison performing Tupelo Honey. A greatest hit, indeed.

CD Review

The Best Of Van Morrison: Volume Three, two CD set, Van Morrison, various artist, Exile Productions, 2007

Apparently just now, although this time rather accidentally, I am on something of an outlaw country moment tear, again. I have mentioned on previously occasions when I have discussed county music, or rather more correctly outlaw country music, that I had a very short, but worthwhile period when I was immersed in this genre in the late 1970s. After tiring somewhat of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and other more well know country outlaws I gravitated toward the music, eerily beautiful and haunting music, of Townes Van Zandt whose Steve Earle tribute album Townes I have recently reviewed in this space. As I noted there, as well, while this outlaw country thing was short-lived and I scrambled back to my first loves, blues, rock and folk music I always had time to listen to Townes and is funny mix of blues, folk rock, rock folk, and just downright outlaw country.

And that brings us to the album under review, Pay The Devil, and another “outlaw” country music man, the Belfast cowboy Van Morrison. Wait a minute, Van Morrison? Belfast cowboy? Okay, let me take a few steps back. I first heard Van Morrison in his 1960s rock period when I flipped out over his Into The Mystic on his Moondance album. And when I later saw him doing some blues stuff highlighted by his appearance in Martin Scorsese PBS History of Blues series several years ago I also flipped out, and said yes, brother blues. But somewhere along the way he turned again on us and has “reinvented” himself as the “son”, the legitimate son, of Hank Williams. And hence the Belfast Cowboy. But this ain't no one-trick pony. No way, no how.

If you do not believe me then just listen to him ante up on Gloria , a classic bluesy number with legendary bluesman John Lee Hooker; the thoughtful Centerpiece Stone with Georgie Fame and the Flames;the pathos of That’s Life;The Healing Game; and, something out of time, out of youthful rock timeTupelo Honey with bluesman Bobby Bland. The Belfast Cowboy, indeed, although I always thought cowboys worn their emotions down deep, not on their blues high white note sleeves. And as loners, not with legendary company. But fine, fine indeed.

Happy Birthday Townes -In The Time Of The Time Of The British Blues Explosion- This Ain't No One-Trick Pony- The Belfast Cowboy Rides Again Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Handsome Man”

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Van Morrison performing In The Back Room.

CD Review

Brown Eyed Handsome Man , Van Morrison, Bono Records, 2000

Apparently just now, although this time rather accidentally, I am on something of an outlaw country moment tear, again. I have mentioned on previously occasions when I have discussed county music, or rather more correctly outlaw country music, that I had a very short, but worthwhile period when I was immersed in this genre in the late 1970s. After tiring somewhat of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and other more well know country outlaws I gravitated toward the music, eerily beautiful and haunting music, of Townes Van Zandt whose Steve Earle tribute album Townes I have recently reviewed in this space. As I noted there, as well, while this outlaw country thing was short-lived and I scrambled back to my first loves, blues, rock and folk music I always had time to listen to Townes and is funny mix of blues, folk rock, rock folk, and just downright outlaw country.

And that brings us to the album under review, Pay The Devil, and another “outlaw” country music man, the Belfast cowboy Van Morrison. Wait a minute, Van Morrison? Belfast cowboy? Okay, let me take a few steps back. I first heard Van Morrison in his 1960s rock period when I flipped out over his Into The Mystic on his Moondance album. And when I later saw him doing some blues stuff highlighted by his appearance in Martin Scorsese PBS History of Blues series several years ago I also flipped out, and said yes, brother blues. But somewhere along the way he turned again on us and has “reinvented” himself as the “son”, the legitimate son, of Hank Williams. And hence the Belfast Cowboy. But this ain't no one-trick pony. No way, no how not with that deep musical background.

If you do not believe me then just listen to him ante up on He Ain’t Give You None, a classic bluesy number; the thoughtful Beside You; the pathos of Send Your Mind; the title song from back in youthful rock timesBrown Eyed Handsome Man; and, something out of time,The Back Room. The Belfast Cowboy, indeed, although I always thought cowboys worn their emotions down deep, not on their blues high white note sleeves. But I guess they do.

Happy Birthday Townes- In The Time Of The Time Of The British Blues Explosion-He Ain't No One-Trick Pony- The Belfast Cowboy Rides Again Van Morrison’s “Down The Road”

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Van Morrison performing The Beauty Of Days Gone By.

CD Review

Down The Road, Van Morrison, Exile Records, 2002

Apparently just now, although this time rather accidentally, I am on something of an outlaw country moment tear, again. I have mentioned on previously occasions when I have discussed county music, or rather more correctly outlaw country music, that I had a very short, but worthwhile period when I was immersed in this genre in the late 1970s. After tiring somewhat of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and other more well know country outlaws I gravitated toward the music, eerily beautiful and haunting music, of Townes Van Zandt whose Steve Earle tribute album Townes I have recently reviewed in this space. As I noted there, as well, while this outlaw country thing was short-lived and I scrambled back to my first loves, blues, rock and folk music I always had time to listen to Townes and is funny mix of blues, folk rock, rock folk, and just downright outlaw country.

And that brings us to the album under review, Down The Road, and another “outlaw” country music man, the Belfast Cowboy, Van Morrison. Wait a minute, Van Morrison? Belfast cowboy? Okay, let me take a few steps back. I first heard Van Morrison in his 1960s rock period when I flipped out over his Into The Mystic on his Moondance album. And when I later saw him doing some blues stuff highlighted by his appearance in Martin Scorsese PBS History of Blues series several years ago I also flipped out, and said yes, brother blues. But somewhere along the way he turned again on us and has “reinvented” himself as the “son”, the legitimate son, of Hank Williams. And hence the Belfast Cowboy. But he ain't no one-trick pony. No way, no how, just too many lessons "learned."

If you do not believe me then just listen to him ante up on Steal My Heart Away, a classic bluesy number; the thoughtful The Beauty Of Days Gone By; the pathos of Chopping Wood; the title song reflecting back on youthful rock timesDown The Road; and, something out of time,Fast Train. The Belfast cowboy, indeed, although I always thought cowboys worn their emotions down deep, not on their blues high white note sleeves. But I guess they do.

Happy Birthday Mississippi John Hurt-When Women Play Rock 'N' Roll For Keeps-On The Road With Bonnie Raitt

Happy Birthday Mississippi John Hurt-When Women Play Rock 'N' Roll For Keeps-On The Road With Bonnie Raitt 

DVD Review

Bonnie Raitt-Road Tested, Bonnie Raitt and various artists, Capitol Records, 1997

Let us take a trip down memory lane to the Boston Common in the summer of that fateful year, 1968. A bunch of us were sitting (on the ground, no less) fairly far back in that locale and then suddenly a woman’s voice came booming through the air. Moreover, she was playing not the female de rigueur acoustic guitar but an electric one. Just like the guys! That, my friends was my introduction to Bonnie Raitt and she has been rockin’, bluesin’ and folkin’ ever since. This San Francisco concert from 1995 brings all those trends together. For Bonnie Raitt fans, or just the casual blues/folk/rock fan this is a treat. When I occasionally call back memories of the 1960’s and say that that was a time when men (and women) played Rock ‘n’ Roll for keeps it is Bonnie that I have in mind as one of the women.

Honestly, after that early introduction to Bonnie on that long ago summer day I did not follow her career that closely for a time although I knew she learned here craft later at the feet of Mississippi Fred McDowell and would catch her at various Cambridge night spots. However, this concert brings all that back. Not only that but the added attractions of Jackson Browne and the legendary blues singer Ruth Brown (a favorite of mine from way back) round out a very nice concert. What’s good here: John Prine’s "Angel From Montgomery"; "Never Make Your Move Too Soon" (with Brown); Chris Smither’s "Love Me Like A Man" and Rock Steady. Nice stuff, well performed with her band and guest artists.

Lyrics to I Ain't Gonna Let You Break My Heart Again :

There ain't no use in me trying to tell you how I feel
'Cause what I feel ain't what you're feeling
I don't know what we did wrong
I just know if you come home
I ain't gonna let you break my heart again

There ain't no use in me trying to find out where you've been
Where you've been ain't where I'm going
'Cause if I ask you where you've been
The hurting starts and it don't end
So I ain't gonna let you break my heart again , no
I ain't gonna let you break my heart again , no o

Tears don't become me
Pain ain't my friend
It seems like you enjoy my crying , baby
You always said that I was strong
But I believe that you were wrong
Lately , God knows , I have been trying

There ain't no use in you trying to kiss away the hurt , baby
'Cause it hurts where it's deep down inside of me and it's hiding
If you decide you're coming home
You walk in , it won't be like before
'Cause I ain't gonna let you break my heart again , no
Ain't gonna let you break my heart again , no no


Lyrics to No Way To Treat A Lady :

You can tease me
You can sweet-talk and lead me on
But believe me
Won't be long till I'm catchin' on

Now you left me here with nothin'
And you put my love on hold
Well there must be somethin' behind those eyes
Cuz I believed every lie you told

That ain't no way to treat a lady
That ain't no way to treat a woman in love
That ain't no way to treat a lady
I coulda sworn that you'd had enough

So you'd leave me
When I'm lonely and in despair
It intrigues me
How you don't really seem to care

Well I ain't here for nothin'
And my love doesn't come that cheap
I would hold you to all your promises
If I could find one you meant to keep

That ain't ain't no way to treat a lady
That ain't no way to treat a woman in love
That ain't ain't no way to treat a lady
That ain't no way to treat a woman in love

You can tease me
You can sweet-talk and lead me on
But believe me
Won't be long till I'm catchin' on

Cuz I ain't here for nothin'
And my love doesn't come that cheap
And I would hold you to all your promises
If I could find one you meant to keep

That ain't ain't no way to treat a lady
That ain't no way to treat a woman in love
That ain't ain't no way to treat a lady
That ain't no way to treat a woman in love

On Memphis Minnie's Birthday ***A Blues Potpourri-The Blues Is Dues, Part II-The Sky May Be Crying But You Won’t Be

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

On Memphis Minnie's Birthday- The Queen of The Blues- Bessie Smith

CD REVIEW

The Essential Bessie Smith, Bessie Smith, Columbia, two disc set, 1997

Elsewhere in this space I have mentioned that in the early days of the blues, at least the recorded blues, women vocalists dominated the market. One thinks of Mabel Smith and Ma Rainey in that regard. But the queen of the hill, and the one still best remembered, for roaring out those barrel house blues is Bessie Smith. This little two-disc compilation gives a very nice beginner cross section of the kind of subjects that she sang about-mainly broken-hearted love, no good men and the trials and tribulations of being a black woman on her own.

Bessie's music also represents the place, as with Blind Willie McTell on the male side, where the blues go from the Saturday night juke joints of farm, make that cotton, country to the more sophisticated Southern city locales. Furthermore, she along with Memphis Minnie were the queens of the now lost art of sexual double entendre- you know, 'put a little sugar in my bowl', 'take me for a buggy ride' and other classic lines of that type.

Be aware in listening to this compilation that the quality of the early recordings can be a little grating on the ear but bear with it because this thing just grows on you. It is rather an acquired taste but once you have the Bessie in your head you will not want to turn the damn thing off. Top selections here are a moanful , weary St Louis Blues, Weeping Willow Blues and a novelty song- Jazzbo Brown From Memphis Town that later singers have covered. Are these recordings all the essentials you need to bring you up to speed on Bessie? No way, but go back the first sentence of this paragraph-you will be saving your pennies to get the next album.

Empty Bed Blues, Bessie Smith EMI, 1991

Be aware listening to Bessie is rather an acquired taste but once you have the Bessie in your head you will not want to turn the damn thing off. Unlike compilations that start with her earlier material like Aggravatin' Papa where the quality of the recording gets in the way of your listening pleasure this one is mainly later material with better sound quality. Top selections here are a moanful , weary St Louis Woman, the sexy Easy Rider, the jump two parts of Empty Bed Blues of the title, the down and dirty Me and My Gin and the novelty song Jazzbo Brown From Memphis Town. Are these recordings all the essentials to bring you up to speed on Bessie? No way, but go back the first sentence of this paragraph- you will be saving your pennies to get the next album.

'Big Mama' Thornton Is In The House- Blues Raw and Unchained

CD REVIEWS

The Original Hound Dog Album, Big Mama Thornton, Vanguard, 1964






Yes, Big Mama sang the original "Hound Dog" well before Elvis made it a classic rock & roll hit. Yes, he went on to make millions (although not off of that song as such but as a fresh sex symbol at a time when the youth of my generation were in desperate need of our own icons) while she made about five hundred dollars off of it. But that is not the whole story. Big Mama had a career of her own beyond that song that while not as financially rewarding (due in part to her race but also to her drinking problem) as Elvis's nevertheless placed her in the pantheon of female blue singers like Bessie Smith and Memphis Minnie- no little accomplishment in itself.

That is what is being celebrated here. Other classics in this CD collection include "How Come", "Nightmare", "They Call Me Big Mama" and "I Smell a Rat". Is this her best compilation? No, I believe that the "Ball and Chain" CD is but this has a nice selection. Big Mama belts out the tunes but, as a rule, does not try to overpower them with that big voice. But, big or small, Mama means the electric blues raw and unchained and that ain't no lie.

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By-Richmond 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. Sadly though, hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground and have rather more often than not been fellow-travelers. 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.
*******
Richmond Blues
Chorus
Honey, all night long
baby all night long
Got the Richmond blues
baby all night long

I'm going to the depot
look upon the board
If the train ain't here
it's somewhere on the road

If I'd a-minded
what mama said
I could-a been sleeping
in mama's bed

Me being young
and foolish too
I left my home
on account of you

I'd rather be dead
and in my grave
Than be in this town
treated this a-way

Ain't got no woman
ain't got no kin
Ain't got nobody
to be bothered with

So if I live
and don't get killed
Gonna make my home
in Louisville
.Listen to this song
This Song Clip was recorded in the key of C. (Click below to play.)


Get it in print

222 traditional songs, including Richmond Blues, in large print. Chords, historical info, jamming hints, and more.
Read more & look inside .

A song from the Mountain Music for Everyone Song Collection from the ToneWay Project. Our website has lyrics to nearly 400 traditional songs common in bluegrass and old-time circles. Most songs also include a free MP3 recording that you can listen to. The ToneWay Project also offers songbooks, CDs, and resources for learning to play music by ear. http://ToneWay.com


Read more: http://toneway.com/songs/richmond-blues#ixzz12e67EVok

*Keeping The Blues/Folk Lamp Burning- The Music of Les Sampou-"Borrowed And Blue"

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Les Sampou Doing "Home Again".

CD Review

Borrowed And Blue, Les Sampou, McNando Records, 2001

The substance of this review was originally used in the review of Les Sampou’s “Borrowed And Blue” album. I have revised that review and most of the points made apply to the other three CD’s reviewed in this space as well.

The name Les Sampou most recently came up in this space, in passing, as part of a review of blues/folk stylist/ songwriter Rory Block’s work. I made the point there that Rory (and Les, Bonnie Raitt, Maria Muldaur and precious few others) were performing a great service by keeping the female blue singer tradition alive (and, for that matter, male-witness the songs covered by all four). And along the way doing the same for the more amorphous contemporary folk tradition with their own fair share of masterful songwriting efforts. Since I placed Les Sampou in such august company it was, thus, only a matter of time before I got around to giving her a few kudos of her own. The following paragraph from the Rory Block review can serve here for Les as well:

“But more than that, thanks for this great album of country blues classics some famous, some a little obscure and known only to serious aficionados but all well worth placing in the album with the quirky little Rory Block treatment that makes many of the songs her own. Oh, did I also mention her virtuoso strong guitar playing. Well, that too. I have gone on and on elsewhere in this space about the old time women blues singers, mostly black, like Bessie Smith, Victoria Spivey and Ida Cox. I have also spilled some ink on more modern, mainly white, women blues singers like Bonnie Raitt, Maria Muldaur and a local talent here in Boston, Les Sampou, and their admirable (and necessary) efforts to carry on this proud tradition. Rory belongs right up there with these women.”

As For “Borrowed And Blue” here is the ‘skinny’:

Yes, indeed Les Sampou can take pride in this album. Mississippi Fred McDowell lives. Her incredibly strong slide guitar playing makes some of Les's old classics like “Chinatown” and “Sweet Perfume” just jump out of the album. She also does a nice job on Blind Willie McTell's “Statesboro Blues” and Mississippi John Hurt’s “Richland Women Blues”. I could go n but I hope you get the drift. Les can DO the blues. Just think of this. What if Les had had the opportunity, like Bonnie Raitt, to learn and travel with the old master McDowell? Wow. Definitely Les's best album. How about doing McDowell's classic “You've Got To Move” on the next album? (An album, by the way, that is supposed to come out in the Fall of 2009. Watch for it.)