Tag: blues

MIXTAPE: Music Maker’s Deep Blues

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The blues, man. The blues. Perhaps more than most genres, the blues harbors far too many hidden heroes. That’s why the work our friends at the Music Maker Relief Foundation do is so very important. We’ve profiled that work before, so we thought it was the music’s turn for a moment in the spotlight and Music Maker’s founder, Tim Duffy, to cull a batch of blues tunes that everyone should hear.

Guitar Gabriel — “I Came So Far”

Gabriel composed “I Came So Far” during a recording session we did soon after returning from our first trip to Holland. Like so many of his performances, they are sung for the moment, and are rarely repeated.

Preston Fulp — “Careless Love” & “Farther Along”


Preston was a rural-based musician influenced by both Black and white traditions of the early 1900s. He died in December of 1993. He was the last of the generation that played in and around Winston-Salem’s tobacco warehouses.

Captain Luke — “Old Black Buck”

Captain Luke (Luther Mayer) — a wonderful bass singer, comedian, jaw harp player, and folk artist — moved to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, in 1940. It was Luther who taught me how to act and work within the stormy and sometimes violent world of East Winston-Salem. When the Captain passed away in late 2015, the Music Maker family was devastated. He was a dear friend.

Big Boy Henry — “Big Bill”

Big Boy Henry is the Carolinas’ premier blues shouter. He was born in 1921 in Beaufort, a small fishing village on the North Carolina coast. He has worked as a fisherman, preacher, and blues singer since the early 1940s. He specializes in the type of blues that was created by Blind Boy Fuller and the musicians surrounding him in Durham, North Carolina.

Willa Mae Buckner — “Peter Rumpkin”

Willa Mae Buckner has been known professionally since the 1930s as “The World’s Only Black Gypsy,” “The Princess of Ejo,” “The Wild Enchantress,” “Snake Lady,” and “Billie Raye Buckner.” She has worked as a chorus girl, blues singer, exotic dancer, contortionist, guitarist, and bassist, and she has operated a traveling snake show. In 1973, she moved to Winston-Salem and was a public transit bus driver for 10 years. At 71, Buckner lives in her own home with a 17-foot python named Big Jim.

Macavine Hayes — “Snatch That Thang”

Macavine Hayes is a younger musician, at 52. Influenced as a child by Guitar Gabriel, Hayes migrated from Florida to North Carolina, where he and Gabriel ran a drink house together in the early ’60s, selling drinks, running craps games, and playing the blues.

Samuel Turner Stevens — “Railroadin’ and Gamblin'”

I met Sam Stevens in 1982 in Asheville, North Carolina, where I was attending college. He is a mountain man who makes banjos, fiddles, dulcimers, mandolins, and guitars. The fretless banjo was introduced to whites by Blacks, but no Black fretless banjo players are known of today.

Lee Gates — “Cool’s Groove”

There is not one guitarist that rips like Lee Gates. Lee’s roots run deep into the electric blues tradition — his cousin was legend Albert Collins. This tune was inspired by another guitar legend that is part of the Music Maker fold, Cool John Ferguson.

Guitar Gabriel and Lucille Lindsey — “Do You Know What It Means to Have a Friend?”

I asked Gabriel one day if he had any brothers or sisters. He mentioned that he had a sister, but he had not seen her in eight years. He gave me her married name, and I found her, blind from diabetes, in an awful nursing home. When I reunited this pair the next day, they immediately broke into song. I scrambled to put up my recording equipment as they sang. Gabriel had written this spiritual the day their mother passed away. Their emotions were so intense, they both began crying and their tears soaked the front of their shirts.

Robert Finley — “Age Don’t Mean a Thing”

Robert is a recent partner artist with Music Maker. I met Robert just under two years ago on the streets of Helena, Arkansas. He was busking at the King Biscuit Blues Festival. When I heard his voice, I knew that he was special. This track is from his debut album … just the tip of the iceberg in terms of what Robert is doing with his career!

Sam Frazier, Jr. — “Cabbage Man”

Sam Frazier is another new addition to the Music Maker family. For years, he performed in Vegas as a Charley Pride impersonator. “Cabbage Man” is written by Frazier and tells the story of his love for cabbage sandwiches. While the song is cheery, it reflects the deep poverty that Sam grew up in outside of Birmingham, Alabama.

Adolphus Bell — “The One Man Band”

When I first met Adolphus, he was homeless, living out of his van, doing everything he could just to scrape up gigs to eat. When I saw him perform, he blew me away with his stage presence. Adolphus and I ended up touring the world together. He was always so grateful that the gigs he got from Music Maker allowed him to get a home.  

Photos courtesy of the Music Maker Relief Foundation

LISTEN: Shinyribs, ‘Don’t Leave It a Lie’

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Artist: Shinyribs
Hometown: Austin, TX
Song: “Don’t Leave It a Lie”
Album: I Got Your Medicine
Release Date: February 24, 2017

In Their Words: “The only rule one ever really needs is the Golden Rule. We all lie to ourselves and each other. That’s alright, as long as you don’t leave it that way. Be you, but be true. Always come back to love and honesty.” — Kevin Russell

Photo credit: Wyatt McSpadden

Counsel of Elders: The Fabulous Thunderbirds’ Kim Wilson on Keeping it Fresh

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If the idea of success in music revolves around “a certain way of doing things,” count on the Fabulous Thunderbirds’ Kim Wilson to chuck that concept and strike out on his own path. It’s not that he’s always had that kind of freedom, but after a certain amount of time building his legacy in the music industry, he’s earned himself enough flexibility to go about things differently. For starters, Wilson keeps the Fabulous Thunderbirds on their toes by avoiding set lists and going by the feel of the evening. Then there’s the way the band tours nowadays: Rather than launch lengthy stretches that involve mostly clubs, Wilson prefers festivals and casinos where he and his boys can cut loose. It’s an approach that allows him to balance his personal life with the music he so loves to perform.

Wilson co-founded the Fabulous Thunderbirds in 1974 with Jimmie Vaughan and, in 1979, the band released its self-titled studio debut. He hasn’t slowed down since, even while the members have undergone significant changes. Wilson remains the only original, but alongside Johnny Moeller (guitar), Steve Gomes (bass), Kevin Anker (keys), and Wes Watkins and Rob Stupka (drums), he recorded and released a new album, Strong Like That, this year. Combining Wilson’s compositions with covers from an array of legends like Johnnie Taylor and Clarence Coulter, the album is packed with lively energy and a blues-influenced rock ‘n’ roll.

Strong Like That shows the harmonica player and vocalist still has a lot to say when it comes to both of his instruments, a point he continually reinforces off-stage when he’s communicating with fans via the band’s blog. “Being a musician is all about leaving a legacy. And that’s not about money. That’s about music,” Wilson wrote in October. “If you can’t leave a musical legacy, if you can’t be remembered for what you did, there’s no sense in doing it.” He’s proof positive for any musician at any stage that, even though there can be a standard path toward success, hiking off in your own direction is equally rewarding.

Besides guitar, harmonica has been credited with being the staple instrument for the blues, but really it’s the person behind the instrument that infuses it with a particular flavor. What does the harmonica allow you to say that another instrument wouldn’t?

A harmonica is very close to you. It’s inside you. That’s how close it is. You can do more things with a harmonica, expressively, than you can with just about any other instrument. There are so many different kinds of tonal things you can get and, of course, it’s all improvised. I consider myself a player. It’s not something where I’m doing a part to enhance a song; I’m actually improvising and just winging it. And that’s a big deal for me. That keeps things fresh for me. I improvise everything on the bandstand, even the set list. I don’t have a set list.

No kidding.

I can call off the next one while the one before it is going, and my boys know it. There are certain songs that you almost have to play; I mean some of the hits, obviously, and some of the new ones, too. Other than that, it’s kind of a free for all. I think the guys appreciate that. It keeps everything fresh for them, too. Even the hit songs have a lot of improvisation for them. You know it’s the song, but I don’t sing ‘em exactly the same, and they don’t play ‘em exactly the same.

I love the music more than I’ve ever loved it. You’re not supposed to get worse. You’re supposed to get better at what you do, and I really haven’t gotten, in my mind, to where I want to be until just recently. And I’m still not where I want to be. Of course, you’re always learning, and you want to be able to hear yourself back on a recording and not wince. Very very important. Very important.

That’s probably the key test. It seems like it takes a certain kind of age and maturity and perspective to hit a stride.

Well, to play the kind of music we play, it does. It can’t be contrived; it can’t be just run of the mill. You’ve gotta be at the top of the food chain to be in the business as long as we’ve been in it: 45-46 years now. Obviously, there are arrangements and stuff like that, sure. I think, if it’s not interesting for you, it’s certainly not going to be interesting for the audience.

Do you feel as though playing the harmonica is a different personality than your singing?

Well, how I perform, it’s kinda violent. There can be some pretty moments, but really it’s more kind of …

Primal?

It’s very primal. That’s exactly right. And I think that it used to be that I’d have to really hit the audience to get their attention, and it’s still kind of that way. People, when you give them something else, they don’t want that. They want something that’s going to smack ‘em a little bit. I was always an athlete — I was a football player when I was a kid — and, luckily, I’ve chosen an instrument that’s allowed me to affect people without breaking bones.

Well, there are always eardrums …

Maybe. Oh, I know all about the eardrum thing.

Me, too. With Strong Like That, how did you decide which songs to include? Leslie West and Johnnie Taylor, among the others you cover, are such interesting choices.

It’s not all blues, obviously. That’s the way we’ve always been.

Right, you’ve always straddled different genres.

We just played a bunch of songs and picked the best performances, the ones we thought worked the best.

I love your rendition of West’s “Don’t Burn Me.”

That’s a great track.

There’s a real heat that comes off it. I know you spent a good deal of time in Texas. Do you equate the feeling you were able to create with that particular region?

The Texas sound … I can’t say we ever had a Texas sound. We lived in Texas. In the beginning, we were more Louisiana and now it’s more, maybe, Memphis. I don’t know what’d you call it. It’s a lot of different areas that we come from. I’m a blues singer, so however I sing it, it’s going to come out like that. Now, we’re playing soul beats and soul songs, but how they come out is more of a blues band playing soul and rock ‘n’ roll and blues. It all starts with the blues for us. When they’re playing this stuff on the radio, it always has upset me when they automatically take it to the blues stations. And some of it you could, but a lot of it you could take it to a lot of different stations. I think right now we’re doing well at Triple-A [Adult Album Alternative], I believe. The Triple-A thing, that’s a relatively new thing out there. You used to have AOR [Album-Oriented Rock] Radio, which we would climb to the top of that and then we would get into the CHR [Contemporary Hits Radio], when there were actually 40 or 60 songs they were playing.

Now it’s more like 15.

Yeah, it’s kinda crazy. Triple-A is fine. Whatever gives us more success, we’ll take it. It’s one of those things that’s really out of your control. We did sign this deal with Sony now, which has really helped. It’s been great to be back with them because they’re so well-staffed and they’ve been on the case, they’ve been really working it. I’m really appreciative of that. We feel like every project we do is very special and for it to just fizzle immediately because people aren’t aware of it, so we’re very happy with the Sony deal.

They have the manpower to get the word out because there’s so much taking place these days, in terms of new releases and surprise drops and what have you.

Right.

I read you play 300 shows a year between the Fabulous Thunderbirds and your own solo projects.

I don’t do that many anymore.

Okay, because I was going to ask where you find the energy for that momentum.

I do quite a few shows and I do have the All-Stars, I guess is what you call it, but that’s a lot of going back into the clubs and it can be a real hassle. Even though I love that music and I love playing it, going back into the clubs is just … Boy, you really start, once again, seeing the bottom of the food chain. It’s very difficult. I do it mostly out [in California] now. I do a Christmastime thing. That’s really all I can do. I don’t want to go out there and kill myself, because it’s not worth it — being burned by club owners and people not advertising shows. It’s kind of insane. It’s really taking a step back from what it was when I was a kid, which was a pretty fun way to make a living.

Playing clubs, you have to work literally 300 days a year just to do anything financially, and that’s just not where it’s at with me anymore. I want to enjoy my life; I just got married, after all this time. I want to see more of my wife, and I want to play more shows that are going to get to a lot of people, like festivals. Not necessarily blues festivals. I mean, festivals, casinos are a nice … Casinos are kind of what the clubs used to be, but a little better than what the clubs used to be, as far as the facilities go.

In terms of treating artists with respect or drawing a crowd?

The facilities are beautiful; you have real dressing rooms. It’s a nice way to go. It’s gotten to where there’s a lot of competition in the casinos, a lot of people who had hit records in the past are gravitating to that. You don’t play as many of them. You play more festivals, but it’s always nice to play a casino because the room’s right there. You just come right down and get on stage. I mean, it’s very nice.

I can see why the Las Vegas residencies are so popular. They live upstairs and just go downstairs for work.

I wouldn’t mind having a residency, actually. I go back and forth on that. I don’t know if I’d want to be in a house band or have to play every night. I wouldn’t be playing the same thing every night anyway, even in a residency. I would be doing how I do it now.

Let’s end on a millennial question: Do you think the blues can be applied to modern woes, things like FOMO [fear of missing out] or hook-up culture?

Of course. Well, I mean, guys like J.B. Lenoir were doing that 40, 50 years ago. There’s always different subject matter you can tap into. There are always different emotions you can tap into, as long as it’s not too corny. I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be corny because I just don’t like corny. Modern music is a very, very difficult challenge because all the lyrics have been used. Now, I love putting a different twist on a cliché. That’s the challenge. Putting a new twist on something people have heard a lot — and a clever twist, not a corny twist.

Myself, I like sticking to … well, blues and soul, it’s really all about man, woman, and money. Now, it can be a really uplifting song like, “I love her, she’s the greatest thing that ever happened, she’s so fine, she’s so smart,” you know? Or it can be, “I hate her, she ruined my life.” And people have success with all that stuff: “I’m broke” or “I’m rich.” There are lots of different ways to approach it. I still like the man/woman interaction, and that’s just the way I’ve always been. I listen to some of these old songs; I don’t listen to too much modern music. To me, there’s something missing there. I like to listen to stuff that I’ve been listening to all my life.

Counsel of Elders: David Bromberg on Music’s Many Languages

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There’s no end to the adjectives ascribed to musicians and their styles, but few are, themselves, an adjective. With David Bromberg’s career-spanning 50 years in the industry — which include recording his own albums, guesting with a variety of artists, and producing others still — he has run the gamut when it comes to music making as a life calling. So then it makes sense that “Brombergian” would encompass that very spirit, defying any quick and fast label in order to create a path outside the “way things are.” It’s a designation his friend, collaborator, and producer Larry Campbell first used to describe Bromberg’s particular blues style, but it seems fitting to expand its use. Bromberg has gone about things differently, eliding the industry’s desire to fit him into a neat category by playing multiple instruments (and styles), as well as taking a significant hiatus from recording music in order to run David Bromberg Fine Violins in Wilmington, Delaware. His career is nothing short of Brombergian.

After rising to fame on his 1972 self-titled debut — which itself spanned various styles from the pondering, folk of “Dehlia” to the bluegrass-driven “Lonesome Dave’s Lovesick Blues #3” to the acoustic blues number “Pine Tree Woman” — he refused to be categorized and confined. Beyond defying a lone musical identity, though, Bromberg did what many a musician might balk at after achieving some level of notoriety. He took time off, beginning in 1980, to focus on learning the violin business … 22 years to be exact. “But who’s counting?” he chuckles, his matter-of-fact delivery belying his easy good humor. Bromberg returned to form in 2002 and hasn’t stopped his pace yet. With a new album, The Blues, the Whole Blues and Nothing But the Blues, just out, he’s made what he describes as his most homogenous album yet, even though the different types of blues — Chicago, Delta, and more — on the album might suggest a more Brombergian approach. At 71 years old, he’s got a lot more to say and more than a few ways to say it.

You’ve recorded so many different genres of music. Each one reminds me of a language. If we’re sticking with this analogy, what do you consider your native tongue?

Oh, boy. That’s a difficult question. I mean, my first response is usually blues. However, a more correct response might be what’s now considered oldies radio. But, you know, I’m not really sure.

Okay then, what do you enjoy most playing?

Music.

That’s cheating!

I know that’s not what you wanted to hear. There are two kinds of music — good music and bad music. I prefer the good kind.

Besides styles, you play several different instruments. Do you find each suits a particular mood?

Yeah, absolutely, and that goes even for one guitar versus another guitar. Any two guitars, they’re going to be different and, if they’re guitars that you can talk to, then you can enjoy them both.

How much do they talk back?

An awful lot. I discover these days, when I start to play mandolin or a fiddle, my guitars yell at me, “You’re not done with us yet!”

What was it about the violin that attracted you?

I learned to play a little bit of fiddle pretty early on. I’m a terrible fiddler. I mean, I used to be just merely bad, but these days I don’t play enough to be anything more than terrible. What interested me about the violin … you know, people assumed that I wanted to be a violin maker and I never wanted to be a violin maker. What fascinated me was how someone could pick up a violin and, without referring to a label, which the labels are very often wrong, you can say when and where it was made and sometimes by whom. And that’s what I wanted to learn, and that’s what I do.

How do you measure success, then? It seems like many, if not most, wouldn’t have considered stopping for 22 years to make instruments.

I still stand by this: At the point where I could take a cab home at the end of the night instead of getting on the subway, that was all the success I needed.

Oh, I love that. But it’s so true.

It really is.

On the flip side of success, what does it take to survive in this business?

Persistence, and that’s not as much of a “blowing you off” answer as it may sound. I think persistence is tremendously important, and I kind of surprised myself by not showing that much, and actually stopping for 22 years, because I knew how important it was. I remember … Charlie Rich was a country or rockabilly singer and, in his 60s, had a huge hit. Persistence. “Behind Closed Doors” was the tune. It was a good tune, and he sang the hell out of it.

Here’s the thing: At one time, if you just stopped someone under the age of 40 on the street and said, “If you could do anything in the world, if you could be anything in the world, what would you be?” They would say, most of them, “Oh, I’d be a rock ‘n’ roll star.” Well, the people who become rock ‘n’ roll stars, they’re people who have to be rock ‘n’ roll stars. That’s it. That’s real. I’m sure it applies to a lot more than just rock ‘n’ roll. Any difficult, enjoyable profession, it’s gonna take a lot of drive. In my day, doing what I did entailed learning to sleep on other people’s floors. I think it’s actually harder today.

Well, there’s certainly a lot more noise today in that there are a lot more people able to get their music into listeners’ headphones.

Did you ever see that ad for the headhunting firm on television? They’re in a tennis stadium, and the guy’s about to serve, and some guy comes out of the crowd and swats at the ball with a briefcase, and then before you know it, the court is covered with people out of the stands, all of them trying to hit the ball. And this is a headhunting firm trying to tell you, “Look, we’ll get you the good people.” But that’s what’s going on. The record companies, which don’t really exist any longer, used to be a filter because you couldn’t just make your own record on an iPhone. It required money. Somebody who got far enough to actually make a recording, well, there might be something there. The odds were greater than they are on YouTube, and YouTube is the medium today.

And even something like Soundcloud, where you can upload an EP or a mixtape and put yourself out there. But there’s no filter.

There’s no filter to say, “Well, you should really listen to this, or you should really listen to that.” I don’t understand how anybody gets anywhere, except for money. I think one of the things that can work for you is, if you impress very wealthy people, maybe they back you. To be someone who does a modern stage show, I mean, that’s very expensive. It’s not an easy thing. Not that it was easy in my day, either, but I think it’s harder today. Anyone and everyone does put things out there, and nobody gets paid for anything any longer, and that’s a difficult thing.

I know even with the streaming services it’s some kind of paltry per-play fee.

I can tell you where this comes from and how this came to be. It used to be that radio stations paid nothing to the artist to play a tune. They might have a small royalty that would go to the writer of a song, but the artist got nothing. So this idea got moved over to the Internet. The Grammy people are trying to change it. I went down to DC and I was a lobbyist for a day, promoting the idea to different representatives that everybody is making the money except the people making the music.

Is there a big coalition?

Basically, in DC these days, no one can do anything. It’s all static — in the sense of not moving.

What’s the most surprising piece of advice you ever received? Or that you, yourself, picked up along the way?

I’ve given people some advice that is kind of surprising or surprises them a lot, people who want to break into music. I say, “Well, you have to be in either New York, Los Angeles, or Nashville.” And people generally don’t think about it, but if you become famous in Dubuque or Boston even, your fame will reach to the edges of Boston. It will take you the same amount of time to be famous in New York, but the New York press is nationwide. There’s your difference.

Those are the cities where the industry has headquartered itself.

Right.

On your latest album, you span so many different blues styles. It’s like you’re coloring outside the lines in a way. Why make this type of album?

This is the most homogenous album I’ve ever made. I never saw any reason not to play any music that I enjoyed. Why be limited? This is commercial suicide to do things that way. The first time I asked Larry Campbell to produce an album, I said “Let’s do an album of all Chicago-style blues.” And he said, “No, let’s do an old-fashioned David Bromberg album.” I never assumed that he’d listened to those records, but evidently he had, so that’s what we did for the first one we did together [2013’s Only Slightly Mad]. The latest one is me taking baby steps to being a little more homogenous.

In the old days, from a commercial point of view, it was suicide, because the record stores had no idea what bin to put me in, and the record company had no idea where and how to advertise me. “But what will we call you?!” “Call me anything but late for dinner.” [Laughs] Without question, it’s the most homogenous album I’ve ever done, and it was fun to do. I’m happy about it.

And I saw you re-recorded “Dehlia” for this album. What was it like revisiting that song?

I did it on my first album, but Larry Campbell plays so beautifully on it, I just had to do it again. After I did the first with Larry producing, Larry and I did some gigs together, just the two of us, and I’ve never wanted anybody else to play on that tune, but I did it one night. Larry was sitting there and he started playing the slide on it and it was so gorgeous. It just kills me every time.

 

For more wisdom from another bluesy elder, read Amanda’s conversation with Tony Joe White.

LISTEN: Otis Taylor, ‘D to E Blues’

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Artist: Otis Taylor
Hometown: Boulder, CO
Song: “D to E Blues”
Album: Fantasizing about Being Black
Release Date: February 17, 2017
Label: Trance Blues Festival Records

In Their Words: “The track ‘D to E’ is about a person who is screaming for freedom, even though he has been pushed down. Sometimes getting from D to E is a lot harder than it seems.” — Otis Taylor

Photo credit: Evan Semón

Squared Roots: Scott Biram on the Legend of Lead Belly

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Though Lead Belly was merely a man, his story reads like the stuff of legends. He had multiple encounters with the law, was sentenced to a chain gang, escaped, killed a relative, and got thrown back in the hoosegow, earned himself a pardon because the governor was a fan. But then he stabbed someone else and got put back in prison, this time in Angola, where Alan and John Lomax found him. He was released, again, after serving his minimum and pleading with the governor, but committed a second stabbing, in the late ’30s. All the while, he so impressed everyone who heard him that he also landed himself in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Known primarily for playing 12-string guitar, Lead Belly also played the piano, mandolin, harmonica, violin, and diatonic accordion on the hundreds of songs he recorded over the course of his all-too-brief career.

Texas songwriter Scott Biram grew up on those songs and, later, learned the stories that went with them. In his own bluesy, folky, soulful Americana style, Biram hears the inevitable echoes of Lead Belly coming through, including on his latest release, The Bad Testament. The influence is there in the miscegenation of musical styles, but also in the way Biram approaches his role as raconteur.   

Why Lead Belly?

Well, Doc Watson was taken! [Laughs]

[Laughs] Fair point.

I would definitely say he’s among my biggest influences — Doc and Townes Van Zandt are my other two. Lead Belly has been in my life my whole life. My dad listened to him a lot when I was a kid. I have quite a few songs where I do a little rant in the middle, where it’s not really singing as much as it’s telling a little story or saying something. I think I got that from listening to Lead Belly.

Right. Must be nice to have parents who listened to cool music. I grew up on Barry Manilow and Dionne Warwick.

[Laughs] There was definitely a lot of Eagles and Crosby, Stills, and Nash at my house. But my dad listened to a lot of Doc Watson and Lightnin’ Hopkins and stuff like that.

I can see why he would gravitate toward that stuff. Lead Belly really did have a singular style — this mix of blues, folk, gospel, and country on a 12-string guitar. What was it that spoke to you in that mish-mosh or maybe it was the mish-mosh?

I think a lot of it had to do with just being a part of my life when I was a kid with my dad listening to it so much. We had this vinyl record that was the soundtrack to the film Lead Belly which is a pretty obscure movie, not really easy to find. I think they filmed it in ’76 or something like that. I was a little kid. They filmed it in the little town that I lived in and I was in my dad’s arms on the edge of the set while they were filming the scene where Lead Belly shot his friend and went to prison.

Well, one of the times he went to prison …

One of the times … yeah. [Laughs] So I heard that soundtrack a lot, which wasn’t actually Lead Belly playing on the soundtrack. It was Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee and someone named Hi Tide Harris who I haven’t been able to find too much on, even with the Internet.

Once I got into roots music, when I was a little older and started playing bluegrass and started really playing the guitar a lot and learning blues, Lead Belly was just naturally somebody that I gravitated toward. And his story is so interesting. I read all the biographies. I read a lot of biographies on musicians that influence me so that I don’t just have a shallow knowledge of them. If I’m going to be playing some of their music, I want to definitely know as much about them as possible.

That’s awesome. I had never studied much of his life until prepping for this. But, I mean … the guy recorded hundreds of songs, worked with the Lomaxes, had a radio show on WNYC, went to Europe, and was in and out of prison multiple times — sang his way out of jail a couple times — all before dying at 50 or 51. That’s some hard living. Can you imagine spending even a couple years in his shoes?

No. [Laughs] I mean, I can imagine, but I’m probably not going to do a very good job of imagining what something like that would be like. I’m just a guitar player. [Laughs] Actually, he only sang himself out of prison once. There’s a legend about him that he sang himself out twice, but really, the second time was kind of exaggerated. I think he was in prison in Louisiana, at that time, and he got out on something called “good time” which is, I think, probably good behavior.

Right. He served his minimum and got out. Here was an interesting thing that I learned: He played at the Apollo, but the Harlem audience didn’t really resonate with him as deeply as the folkies did. He had a lot in common with Woody Guthrie, maybe more so than some of the old blues guys, but why do you think the Black audience didn’t connect?

First of all, he was a country guy. And I don’t mean country music; I mean from the rural South. So I’m not sure anyone from New York would really see it as anything but a spectacle, at that time. But, also, I wonder — and I’m just guessing here — I know that John Lomax used to kind of have him dressed up in a prison uniform and stuff like that, kind of clown him around out there and make him seem like he was just straight from the prison. I imagine that might have been a turn-off to some people in Harlem back then. I know Woody Guthrie, when he went to New York and was supposed to be on something and they wanted him to dress, as he described it, “as a clown,” he said he’d be back in a few minutes, went downstairs, and left. Didn’t even come back to the studio. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. I read that Life magazine did a three-page spread on Lead Belly and the title of the article is not something I’m going to repeat.

Yeah, I get ya.

And it was considered an honor that he was getting this prominent placement. But it makes sense that the minstrel thing wouldn’t fly.

It might’ve been a turn-off to people in Harlem. If there was anyone from the South who lived in Harlem at that time, they probably weren’t impressed by it because, to them, it was just a reminder of what they just left.

The other thing I love about listening to his stuff and pouring over his stories is that he lived through an era of history that was rife with huge moments and he documented history as it happened, writing songs about the Titanic, the Hindenburg, Jim Crow, FDR, Hitler, etc. Pete Seeger carried his style forward. Bob Dylan, to a certain extent. Who else do you hear carrying the Lead Belly torch?

You mean documenting history as it happens?

Yeah. Ani DiFranco does a bit, which she picked up from Pete Seeger.

Honestly, nobody comes to mind that is documenting current events in music so much that it’s actual historical stories in the songs. There are a lot of people saying their thoughts about the current states of everything, but I can’t think of anyone that actually sings a story about a tragedy.

Santiago Jiménez, Jr. — Flaco Jiménez’s brother — has a record called El Corrido de Esequiel Hernandez: Tragedia de Redford. The album is titled after the song about a kid in Redford, Texas, down in the desert on the border, who was walking his goats one day and the guys in the DEA or Border Patrol came and shot him because he had a rifle walking, like he did every day, with his goats. He was basically a shepherd and he got shot. That’s the only one I can think of that pops out and that’s not a popular artist or anything. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Right. I was just thinking Hurray for the Riff Raff does it a little bit. Rhiannon Giddens, a little. But no one to the same extent. I mean, if you read Lead Belly’s song titles, you can trace history.

A lot of the time you have to listen to it as “The Hindenburg Disaster, Part I” and “Part II” because they couldn’t fit the whole song on the single. They had to put it on both sides!

BGS Class of 2016: Books

Posted on by Editor

Yes, indeed, this was a great year for music (just check out our stacked 2016 albums list) and, luckily for all the bibliophiles out there, it was also a great year for music books. Because there's nothing better than reading a good book while your favorite music plays, we've rounded up a few of our favorite books from the past year. From Whisperin' Bill Anderson's life story to a memoir from the one and only Bruce Springsteen, there's something here for everyone.

Just Around Midnight: Rock and Roll and the Racial Imagination by Jack Hamilton

Slate writer and University of Virginia at Arlington professor Jack Hamilton tackles the complex relationship between race and rock 'n' roll in the 1960s in this new book. It's an essential addition to the rock 'n' roll history canon that covers new, much-needed ground.

Slim Harpo: Blues King Bee of Baton Rouge by Martin Hawkins

Slim Harpo forever altered the culture of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, with his own take on blues music. The only available biography about Harpo, this book preserves the legacy of one of the genre's most important artists.

Whisperin' Bill Anderson: An Unprecedented Life in Country Music by Bill Anderson and Peter Cooper

Whisperin' Bill Anderson is one of the most celebrated songwriters in country music, with hits for everyone from Ray Price to Eddy Arnold. In this autobiography — written in tandem with music writer Peter Cooper — Anderson offers a behind-the-scenes look at Music Row, his storied career, and the difficulties he faced as the music industry evolved.

Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen

An autobiography from the Boss … need we say more? 

Anatomy of a Song: the Oral History of 45 Iconic Hits That Changed Rock, R&B, and Pop by Marc Myers

"Proud Mary," "Carey," "Mercedes Benz," and 42 other legendary songs get the oral history treatment in this anthology from Wall Street Journal columnist Marc Myers. It's a fascinating read for anyone, but should be especially so for anyone hoping to write the next classic song.

Photo credit: Abee5 via Foter.com / CC BY.

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3×3: Jimmy Lumpkin on Zeppelin, Norway, and Southern Manners

Posted on by Amy Reitnouer

Artist: Jimmy Lumpkin
Hometown: Fairhope, AL
Latest Album: HOME
Personal Nicknames: JL Fresh

 

Bombarded by beach buzzards! Cute though, huh?

A photo posted by Jimmy Lumpkin (@jimmy.lumpkin) on

If you had to live the life of a character in a song, which song would you choose?

"Ramble On," Led Zeppelin

Where would you most like to live or visit that you haven't yet?

Paradise, or Norway maybe

What was the last thing that made you really mad?

Myself

 

Dangerous Alligators

A photo posted by Jimmy Lumpkin (@jimmy.lumpkin) on

What's the best concert you've ever attended?

New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, Van Morrison — in the rain.

What's your go-to karaoke tune?

Sorry, don’t have one; would probably be “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd

What are you reading right now?

Nothing at the moment, but I love the bookstore and the familiarity of the written word. I am always seeking that spark.

Whiskey, water, or wine? 

Whiskey, and water. And Wine. 

North or South? 

Wherever you’re at, there’s always an upside — and down. Whichever invites me back. Still, I’m Southern in manner and heritage. Without bias.

Facebook or Twitter? 

All my Facebook posts are Tweeted, I believe.

LISTEN: Brigitte DeMeyer & Will Kimbrough, ‘Broken Fences’

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Brigitte DeMeyer & Will Kimbrough
Hometown: Nashville/San Francisco
Song: "Broken Fences"
Album: Mockingbird Soul
Release Date: January 27, 2017
Label: BDM via Sony RED

In Their Words: "Brigitte came to me with these lyrics, and I was so moved I immediately came up with some music. Then she suggested I sing lead, and we had such a great time making this energetic blast of a song.” — Will Kimbrough

"This is a song about someone who's in trouble. They've messed up and are trying to make it right. The lyrics were inspired by a friend." — Brigitte DeMeyer

Photo credit: David McClister

MIXTAPE: Bloodshot Records’ Chicago Sounds

Posted on by Editor

Bloodshot Records has been operating in Chicago for the entirety of its 20+ years as a record label. As the story goes, the label was birthed — written on a bar napkin at local watering hole Delilah’s — to compile the sounds and ideas of a burgeoning country/punk scene in and around the city in the mid-’90s. On our site, it says, “We’ve always been drawn to the good stuff nestled in the dark, nebulous cracks where punk, country, soul, pop, bluegrass, blues, and rock ‘n’ roll mix and mingle and mutate.”

And while Mike Smith and I haven’t been there since Bloodshot’s inception, we grew up on the catalog (Heartbreaker, anyone?), along with other sounds of similar ilk and of similar community. If you spend enough time in Chicago going to and playing shows, drinking at the Hideout or Schuba’s or Empty Bottle, or just meeting people who are vaguely into music, there are names that consistently arise — ones that have the respect of other musicians, live music show-goers, and casual standers-by.

Here, we’ve compiled our own mixtape of Chicago’s current roots/alt-country artists. Maybe none of them implicitly fall under those umbrella (and sometimes unwanted) terms, but they all possess some sort of grit, twang, or attitude that slots in with the roots aesthetic. — Josh Zanger

Wilco — “Casino Queen”

The band took shape after the split of alt-country originals Uncle Tupelo and, as Wilco progressively leaned more toward pop/indie rock, Chicago has happily claimed them as a musical staple. Early in the band’s career, you could still hear the alt- influences, especially on their debut album, A.M., songs like “Casino Queen” and “Box Full of Letters” remind me of Jeff Tweedy’s creative work with Jay Farrar (now of Son Volt) and Brian Henneman (of Bottle Rockets).

Robbie Fulks — “Aunt Peg’s New Old Man”

Robbie is a Bloodshot original — his first album is catalog number BS011 — and, in my opinion, what keeps the Chicago alt-/roots scene relevant and vibrant. If you think I’m partial, take a trip to the city and go see his residency at the Hideout on a Monday night while he’s in town. Every show is different, with different themes and different guests, but ALL of them feature Robbie’s excellent musicianship and high-wire wit.

Hoyle Brothers — “How Many More Nights”

Since I moved into the city many years ago (and for many years before that), the Hoyle Brothers have been a local honky tonk treasure. They’ve been doing weekly happy hour residencies at the Hideout and Empty Bottle since early 2000s, and it feels like a rite of passage to have attended and gotten drunk at one of their performances.

Lawrence Peters — “Another Year”

If you’ve been to the Hideout, you’ve seen Lawrence behind the bar slingin’ PBRs and cheap whiskey shots. There’s also the chance that you’ve seen him playing honky tonk and country music as the Lawrence Peters Outfit, in one of many renowned local bands, or DJing country tunes at various bars and clubs.

Waco Brothers/Jon Langford — “Receiver”

Jon Langford is a man about town — making art, playing shows, making music, making his political voice heard, kissing babies — and I have yet to meet a person who doesn’t love him. Also, every time he comes to the Bloodshot offices, he makes it a brighter place and then leaves with, “Thank you, good people of Bloodshot, and keep up your great work!” On his own or in various projects, he’s beyond prolific. With the Wacos, content comes a little more slowly, but always carries an added punch in the band’s potent rock ‘n’ roll/punk/country form. In full disclosure: A Waco Brothers 7” is the label’s third release.

State Champion — “There Is a Highlight Reel”

I haven’t seen the band play in a while, so I’m not sure if they even call Chicago home — their Facebook page lists “Chicago/Louisville.” They have a grungey, garage, twangy sort of sound that brings to mind an alternate genre Uncle Tupelo. Freakwater’s Catherine Irwin lends guest vocals to this song, giving it an extra bit of eerie grit.

— Josh Zanger, publicist at Bloodshot Records

Al Scorch — “Everybody Out”

In Chicago over the last five years or so, Al Scorch has been at the forefront of the roots music scene. His combination of bluegrass, folk, country, and punk-rock is uniquely Chicagoan — it’s a direct cross between tradition and rebellion. In the city, you can see Scorch telling urban stories over his lightning-fast banjo pickin’ everywhere from punk clubs to square dances, DIY spaces to theaters. He is a true everyman. I grew up on punk music, and I moved to Chicago from the beautiful Shenandoah Valley in Virginia, a hotbed for roots music and traditional bluegrass, in particular. When I first saw Al Scorch at the famed punk club the Empty Bottle on a Saturday afternoon, it was the first time Chicago truly felt like home to me.

Ryley Walker — “On the Banks of the Old Kishwaukee”

Ryley Walker has been playing multiple styles of guitar (classical, jazz, psychedelic, bluegrass … you name it) in punk bars and jazz clubs around Chicago for years, both solo and with some of the Chicago underground’s most iconic musicians. In local music circles, everyone knows his name for different reasons. In 2014, Walker signed to Dead Oceans, a Bloomington, Indiana, label that specializes in indie rock with splashes of roots music, and released three terrific albums in two years. Just like Walker’s guitar-playing, the albums span a wide genre map, much of which draws from folk, bluegrass, and classic country. Throw in a few jazz and psych numbers, and it’s a unique blend of guitar-led American music.

Devil in a Woodpile/Rick Sherry — “Shake It and Break It”

Devil in a Woodpile is a roots music fixture in Chicago, and Rick Sherry is the carnival barker-like vocalist fronting the unplugged string band. His baritone bellow is earth-shaking while his harmonica playing is to be reckoned with. Devil is also uniquely Chicagoan, as they mix Appalachian-era bluegrass, country (the stuff that floated up the river and landed in the old juke joints and square dances of mid-century Chicago), and folk with the brand of blues that was born in Chicago. Folks will gather in the small Hideout barroom (there’s a reason we keep mentioning the Hideout — it is truly THE roots music haven in Chicago) to watch Devil in a Woodpile play unmic’d in the middle of the room, right on the checker-tiled floor. It’s an event every time. Sherry can also be seen playing in the swingin’ Sanctified Grumblers and the acoustic pickin’ Hatstretchers.

Whitney — “No Matter Where We Go”

Though they aren’t your typical “alt-country” or punk-infused roots that often defines the Americana underbelly of Chicago, Whitney is a band not to be overlooked in the conversation. Born out of the ashes of the short-lived indie rock band Smith Westerns, Whitney combines soul, AM radio pop, late-Wilco-leaning guitar wizardry, and ‘70s-era country music that would make Gram Parsons tap his foot. It’s a unique sound amongst the psychedelia and garage vibes that currently permeate the Chicago indie rock scene. You’ll often see them playing with a brass section and a pedal steel guitar, simultaneously, as evident in their hometown hero set at the 2016 Pitchfork Music Festival.

Henhouse Prowlers — “Leaving You for the Interstate”

As made clear in this piece, a multitude of Chicago bands incorporate bluegrass into their music, mish-mashing it with punk, blues, and country. But the Henhouse Prowlers (previously known as Sexfist — yes, you read that correctly) are one of the few that play traditional bluegrass in the Windy City. Crowded around a mic, pickin’ away on banjo, guitar, dobro, upright bass, and fiddle at Martyrs on almost any given weekend, the Prowlers sound more like the Cumberland Gap in the 1950s than Chicago in the 21st century. Their lyrical allusions are what bring it back around to modern times. They have a song called “Spoiler Alert.”

Jim Elkington — “Slow Train”

If you’ve seen live music in Chicago, you’ve seen Jim Elkington play guitar. The virtuoso has played with everyone from Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy to Eleventh Dream Day (with Freakwater’s Janet Bean) to various Mekons-related projects. (I once saw him play a David Bowie tribute set with Jon Langford and Sally Timms at the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art that felt like a bad acid trip — but you’d never know it through Jim’s deadpan while he shredded away.) I can’t tell you how many shows I’ve been to in which I didn’t even know he was playing until he emerged from the shadows on stage. He’s ubiquitous. Elkington has also released several albums of superb guitar instrumentals steeped in country, bluegrass, and other roots stylings on the Paradise of Bachelors label.

— Mike Smith, new media publicist at Bloodshot Records

Photo on Foter.com