Another dawn chorus of screaming kids in "Brats-ville" where my motel was apparently located meant an early wake-up. I played a little blues on my Strat (the one from Clarksdale) until my fingers were loosened up and the clock told me it was time to get going.
With bags packed and car loaded I headed off down the Old Hickory road again - this time listening to the Man In Black...
The Rick Rubin produced "American" series of albums were rightly acclaimed. I listened to American IV and American V for the first part of my day and was captivated by the old man's voice.
Johnny Cash died just two weeks after the American V recordings were completed and you can hear the sound of death in some of the phrasing. On songs like the "309" which is all about death the words become all the more poignant.
This series of albums is a great testimony to one of country's greatest artists and someone who made a major contribution to world music overall.
Johnny Cash was followed by Sonny Boy Williamson's two fine albums (remastered versions for me) "The Real Folk Blues" and "More Real Folk Blues". Howling, wailing, crying, stomping harmonica played by a true virtuoso and accompanied by his incredible voice which is so full of character and "cool". He is also notable for his lyrical skills and phrasing - often using juxtaposition, assonance and zeugma in his lyrics. All of which add to the style.
Approaching Memphis it was on to Watermelon Slim's latest album "No Paid Holidays". This is the first time I've listened to Watermelon Slim properly after he was highly recommended to me by Gary Williams in Clarksdale. He is excellent.
A former Oklahoma truck driver with a University degree in History and a slide guitar style which is lowdown, mean and dirty (those are all good things by the way...)
"Call My Job" - about having too much weekend is packed full of humour and real life experience which we can all identify with.
"And When I Die" is a superb song which features Watermelon Slim singing a pure vocal track with no accompaniment other than harp. Outstanding.
The sounds and styles on the album are quite diverse and cross a broad range from hard electric blues to blues rock and country blues and subject matters also vary. A great album and I am now a Watermelon Slim convert.
Back to Memphis and straight to STAX Recording Studio or as it was know in the 60s and 70s - "Soulsville USA". It is now a museum and a pilgrimage site for people looking to the origins of Soul music and the Memphis sound.
Founded by two white people STAX did more for Black music than almost any other record label and certainly ranks alongside Chess, Motown and Sun in terms of pioneer labels.
Jim Stewart and Estelle Axton founded STAX (a combination of the first two letters of each of their surnames) in a neighbourhood that was turning predominantly black. They were brother and sister - Jim was the music man who had a history in radio and had started a recording venture at the end of the 50s and Estelle was the financial brains initially. 1960 saw the first proper release by Rufus Thomas and Carla his daughter after STAX had set up in what used to be the Capitol Theatre on the corner of College and McLemore sts in Memphis.
Astonishingly nearly all the early STAX artists were from the neighbourhood around the studio which was thick with musical talent. Even the Queen of Soul herself Aretha Franklin was born just around the corner and her father Reverend Franklin officiated at Rufus Thomas's wedding. (Aretha moved to Detroit when very young and did not record at STAX.
Soul music was born out of blues, gospel and country. Essentially happy music whose rhythms were very catchy and dance focused (spawning many different dances including The Funky Chicken, The Jerk, The Mashed Potato etc), Soul took the blues and country from the fields and the gospel from the churches and fused it into a sound that lived in the city.
Many of the STAX singers had grown up as gospel singers while other spent their formative years listening to country music and the Grand Ole Opry on the radio (both blacks and whites). This coming together of musical styles was matched by a very integrated racial harmony unusual at the time. All the way through STAX blacks and whites worked closely together and without colour entering the building. It changed after the assassination of Dr. King at the end of the 60s after which the music became a signal of black identity and became politicised, ceasing to be "just music".
Bass, drums, horns and some bawling Memphis guitar are what back the passionate vocals. The STAX sound was a lot more punchy, earthy and "dirty" than the slightly homogenised sound of Motown under Berry Gordy - who admittedly was targeting a much larger crossover audience and wanted to make black music accessible to whites.
Listen to the King Curtis song "Memphis Soul Stew" to understand - literally - the ingredients of Memphis Soul Music.
Backbone of the sound were the house musicians in the form of Al Jackson on drums, Donald "Duck" Dunn on bass (Fender Precision), Steve Cropper on guitar (Fender Telecaster) and Booker T. Jones on organ. They played as a band under the name of Booker T. & The MGs but less well know if the fact that they were the studio band for nearly all the STAX recordings and one of the main live bands also.
Steve Cropper became one of the main producers at STAX over the years along with people like Isaac Hayes and David Porter who wrote many of the songs and hits for people like Sam & Dave, Otis Redding, The Bar Kays, Eddie Floyd, Carla Thomas, and many more.
The STAX sound was and is instantly recognisable and became mimicked over time by many other labels and producers. Eventually the studio fell apart in the 70s with financial and management problems, but not before it had made its mark on American and world music and given birth to "Soul" music.
The museum today is an excellent memorial to the STAX golden years. Very informative exhibits are mixed with profiles of some of the STAX stars and the history and development of Soul. STAX also recorded blues artists as well - most notably Albert King - and bridged into the funk movement as a logical development of Soul.
Two highlights of the museum for me were the studio itself which - like Studio B in Nashville - gives a strong sense of history. Although the original STAX building was knocked down in 1988, the rebuilt site and museum still give a sense of what it was like with all the original equipments, consoles and so on in their positions. It's not just the presence of Duck Dunn's bass, Steve Cropper's guitar or Booker T's Hammond organ - but the knowledge that Otis Redding, Sam & Dave, Isaac Hayes and other greats stood on this site and in this place making the music that lives on way past their lifetimes and which has accompanied millions of others in their lifetimes and in the moments where only music makes sense.
The other highlight was Isaac Hayes' gold plated cadillac. Fur lined, gold plated, special stereo, TV and fridge in back this massive monument to 70's style is awesome to behold. Much like Elvis's gold plated Cadillac in the country museum in Nashville - it is the insecurity of a poor boy who's made a lot of money. Got to show it off and what better way than with a car which everyone can see you in.
From the STAX museum to another Memphis institution - the Gibson Guitar factory just a block or two down from Beale Street.
This is the main production and manufacturing facility for guitars and basses - particularly the electric instruments and also houses the "custom" shop which makes special and limited edition instruments. The facility I visited in Nashville makes banjos, mandolins and Dobro (resonator) guitars.
The factory tour was full for the day so I didn't get to see the production line which was a shame, but I did get to spend some time in the custom shop retail area strumming some lovely guitars. I wasn't planning to buy any instruments (3 guitars already on this trip is enough) but I did inquire about one acoustic (an L5 in limited edition and one of only 24 pieces). It was $6,500 US - plus tax! Needless to say it stayed at the shop!
Back in the car I fired up Jenny the GPS and aimed her at St Louis - around 280 miles away - and put soul music on the sound system, having been inspired by Stax.
Listening to sweet soul music and with cruise control dialled in to around 90 miles an hour (only 20 above the speed limit) I headed on up to St Louis and completing a day's drive of more nearly 600 miles all told.
St Louis was exceedingly busy - A Cardinal's game was on and it was Saturday - and I couldn't find a room in a hotel for love nor money.
With traffic and hunger getting on my nerves, I headed out of town towards Blueberry Hill to see if I could find a place to stay close to this cool neighbourhood full of great eateries and home to the St Louis student community and Italian community.
Every motel and hotel was booked full and I eventually opted for heading north towards Hannibal, Missouri to the birthplace of Mark Twain and finding a motel on the Highway.
Lucky for me they are digging up virtually every road in St Louis including the interstates and so Jenny the GPS got me and her totally lost. In my growing frustration I punched in the nearest hotel - which looked like being a fancy 4-5 star. I arrived at a different hotel - a Crowne Plaza (it changed owners 3 years ago. Take note Jenny!) and got a room for just 90 bucks a night! It was late so I headed for the in-house restaurant where a couple of large beers were drowned and some food was consumed.
And then to bed and a much needed deep sleep after reading up on STAX records and it's history.
Tomorrow it's further north to Hannibal and beyond. Highway 61 beckons and there's more music out there before I head off over to Chicago....
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Day 7 - Nashville, Tennessee
Woke up in Nashville - but WAY too early...
My room was on the ground floor - and so everybody in the hotel wandered past my room chattering, shouting and even screaming (badly behaved kids) at around 6.30am onwards.
I gave up the battle for sleep at around 7.30am, vowed to scowl at every child I saw that day and then did some reading, some email and some guitar practice. (Yes, I sleep with my guitars - no way I'm leaving them in the car plus there is a faint hope that I'll wake up one night possessed by the spirit of Hendrix and play guitar so well that they will say that Bluesman Dubai Dave must have sold his soul to the devil in a Hampton's Inn...)
I met my cousin for breakfast in the motel (greasy but curiously satisfying - the breakfast, not my cousin) and we then set off on the Old Hickory road. Rolling through the Tennessee countryside was very relaxing and I chose Lightnin' Hopkins to accompany us for the ride. I saw the house my cousin grew up in in a Nashville suburb and then we swung by Al Gore's house - mansion is perhaps a better description - and carried on through the mansion area of West Meade and Belle Meade heading back to Nashville. Impressive houses is has to be said - with equally impressive price tags to boot.
Back in Nashville my cousin George was keen to show me the Nashville Parthenon (on account of the fact that I had spent many years in Athens). This is a full scale replica of the Parthenon on the Acropolis in Athens - except this one is fully intact.
In one sense it was very impressive - and having seen it lit at night the previous evening I have to say it does provide a striking monument. BUT - there is something slightly odd about a full size replica of one of the marvels of the Ancient world here in Nashville, Tennessee!
From the sublime to the ridiculous - we then headed to the Country Music Hall Of Fame Museum. This impressive building was designed by the architectural firm that my cousin's eldest daughter works for and is home to all things country including the gold plated cadillac that Elvis had made for him...
The Museum is very well organised and laid out. Great interactive features and special sections make it easy to navigate. While I like country music enough to listen to it with enthusiasm, it's not the same passion as the blues, soul or RnB. Nevertheless the museum was interesting. One take away I had was that country artists - many of whom have made vast personal fortunes - deserve the money they get. If not for their musical talents then certainly for the fact that they have worn some of the worst clothes and costumes in the history of mankind... Much worse than the soul cats of the 70s! Rhinestones, sequins, gold braid - the full works...
After a tour of the museum we went on a special tour of RCA Victor Studio B. This doesn't sound very special but it is the studio that most of the country greats recorded in at some point - including Dolly Parton who crashed her first car into the wall of the studio. But it isn't strictly country musicians that made the place famous. That distinction went to a boy from Tupelo, Mississippi who recorded 300 songs in Studio B. Elvis Presley.
The studio tour was well organised and full of interesting facts and stories. Dolly Parton's song "I Will Always Love You" - one of her biggest hits - earns Dolly between 7 and 10 cents EVERY time it is played. They estimate that this one song alone has earned her around $25 million. Elvis wanted to record a version of it - but his contracts meant that he would then receive 50% of the publishing rights and royalties in perpetuity so Dolly refused him. Turned out to be a good bet for her.
Inside the actual studio itself it is like time has stood still with the original equipment scattered around the area. "Are You Lonesome Tonight" was recorded here late in the night with the lights in the studio turned down so low it was almost pitch black (apparently Elvis liked to record in the night and was very into "atmosphere".) It was recorded in one take - apart from the last notes sung by the backing singers - and apparently if you have good enough playback equipment it is possible to hear the moment when Elvis bumped his head on the mic he was singing in to....
Studio B was a pretty inspiring place for the history and it's uniquely important role in recording history and it was pretty amazing standing in the spot where the King recorded - even if I am not an Elvis fanatic.
From Studio B to the Ole Opry Mills and the Gibson Retail Centre which also features he manufacturing location for Gibson Banjos, Dobros and Mandolins. The centre also boasts around 800 guitars for sale - across the Gibson and Epiphone brands...
I fiddled with a Firebird, explored an Explorer but ended up falling for an ES 175 Reissue (Epiphone version of the Gibson classic) semi acoustic archtop in Tobacco Sunburst. I plugged her into a vintage amp and did battle with a thrash metal head shredding in the next door booth. I don't know who won, but the guitar was promptly purchased at an excellent price and is being shipped back to the UAE by FedEx as I am already "guitar heavy" for the flights back to Dubai....
From there back to the motel for a short rest before an early dinner with my cousins and their daughters at a very nice eaterie in downtown Nashville.
After dinner we hit the road towards the Grand Ole Opry and I could feel my facial hair growing as we approached the Mecca of Country music...
There were fewer cowboy hats than I had anticipated, but there were a lot of country fans heading into the temple of country music. This of course is the "New" Grand Ole Opry at Opryland. The old building in the centre of Nashvillethat originally housed the Opry is still there and is behind Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. Known as the Ryman building it is still used occasionally for smaller performances according to my cousin. The New Ole Opry moved out here in the seventies. They did bring a piece of the old Opry with them - a circular piece of the old stage - which is now on the stage of the new Opry.
The building for the new Grand Ole Opry (GOO) is an impressive structure and full capacity must be in the several thousands. We had great seats (generously purchased by my cousin) but high up - so I spent the first set feeling giddy and getting vertigo. I had recurring feelings that I would fall off the balcony and land on a giant cowboy hat that would somehow save my life. Happily it didn't happen.
The GOO is broadcast live across the nation so the show is actually run as a live radio show. Razor sharp timing and each of the four half hour sets is hosted by a lead artist (all of our lead artists were a minimum of 70 plus years old including two women whose make-up man earned his dollars that night). All were "country greats" and did a very good job of both hosting and singing. The slightly annoying part is the sponsor aspect which involves constant sponsor messages and read-outs for the benefit of the folks listening at home. After one set this drives you to distraction and I have taken a vow never to eat at a Cracker Barrel (main sponsor), never to but a single product from Bass Pro Shops or get any kind of system from Johnson Control (they'll put your college logo on your air conditioning unit apparently - totally bizarre...)
One of the singers - Buddy Jewel - who was promoting a new album sang a song called "This Ain't Mexico" protesting the illegal immigrants from Mexico. He prefaced it by saying it might be a little contentious. I'd describe it as bordering on racist with references to the Alamo and so on. The (mostly Southern and red neck) crowd loved it. My cousin predicted the song will turn up in one of the Presidential campaigns before November. I wouldn't be surprised either.
The music was very good and wildly varied. It included "classic country", a good dose of Bluegrass (including one band with a banjo player who only had one finger) and more rock n roll and jazzy numbers. All in all most enjoyable and the atmosphere was excellent. I'll never love country the way I love the blues and country will never be cool, but this was a very pleasant way to spend the evening and I had a great time. I'd certainly recommend the experience of the Grand Ole Opry to anyone who is headed towards Nashville.
Back to the motel after dropping my cousin's daughter off and into a deep sleep before a planned early start to head back to Memphis and the Stax Record museum "Soulsville USA"....
Nashville was a great experience and an impressive place. Seeing it with someone who grew up there and knows the history was a big advantage, but I found myself longing for Clarksdale and the blues again...
My room was on the ground floor - and so everybody in the hotel wandered past my room chattering, shouting and even screaming (badly behaved kids) at around 6.30am onwards.
I gave up the battle for sleep at around 7.30am, vowed to scowl at every child I saw that day and then did some reading, some email and some guitar practice. (Yes, I sleep with my guitars - no way I'm leaving them in the car plus there is a faint hope that I'll wake up one night possessed by the spirit of Hendrix and play guitar so well that they will say that Bluesman Dubai Dave must have sold his soul to the devil in a Hampton's Inn...)
I met my cousin for breakfast in the motel (greasy but curiously satisfying - the breakfast, not my cousin) and we then set off on the Old Hickory road. Rolling through the Tennessee countryside was very relaxing and I chose Lightnin' Hopkins to accompany us for the ride. I saw the house my cousin grew up in in a Nashville suburb and then we swung by Al Gore's house - mansion is perhaps a better description - and carried on through the mansion area of West Meade and Belle Meade heading back to Nashville. Impressive houses is has to be said - with equally impressive price tags to boot.
Back in Nashville my cousin George was keen to show me the Nashville Parthenon (on account of the fact that I had spent many years in Athens). This is a full scale replica of the Parthenon on the Acropolis in Athens - except this one is fully intact.
In one sense it was very impressive - and having seen it lit at night the previous evening I have to say it does provide a striking monument. BUT - there is something slightly odd about a full size replica of one of the marvels of the Ancient world here in Nashville, Tennessee!
From the sublime to the ridiculous - we then headed to the Country Music Hall Of Fame Museum. This impressive building was designed by the architectural firm that my cousin's eldest daughter works for and is home to all things country including the gold plated cadillac that Elvis had made for him...
The Museum is very well organised and laid out. Great interactive features and special sections make it easy to navigate. While I like country music enough to listen to it with enthusiasm, it's not the same passion as the blues, soul or RnB. Nevertheless the museum was interesting. One take away I had was that country artists - many of whom have made vast personal fortunes - deserve the money they get. If not for their musical talents then certainly for the fact that they have worn some of the worst clothes and costumes in the history of mankind... Much worse than the soul cats of the 70s! Rhinestones, sequins, gold braid - the full works...
After a tour of the museum we went on a special tour of RCA Victor Studio B. This doesn't sound very special but it is the studio that most of the country greats recorded in at some point - including Dolly Parton who crashed her first car into the wall of the studio. But it isn't strictly country musicians that made the place famous. That distinction went to a boy from Tupelo, Mississippi who recorded 300 songs in Studio B. Elvis Presley.
The studio tour was well organised and full of interesting facts and stories. Dolly Parton's song "I Will Always Love You" - one of her biggest hits - earns Dolly between 7 and 10 cents EVERY time it is played. They estimate that this one song alone has earned her around $25 million. Elvis wanted to record a version of it - but his contracts meant that he would then receive 50% of the publishing rights and royalties in perpetuity so Dolly refused him. Turned out to be a good bet for her.
Inside the actual studio itself it is like time has stood still with the original equipment scattered around the area. "Are You Lonesome Tonight" was recorded here late in the night with the lights in the studio turned down so low it was almost pitch black (apparently Elvis liked to record in the night and was very into "atmosphere".) It was recorded in one take - apart from the last notes sung by the backing singers - and apparently if you have good enough playback equipment it is possible to hear the moment when Elvis bumped his head on the mic he was singing in to....
Studio B was a pretty inspiring place for the history and it's uniquely important role in recording history and it was pretty amazing standing in the spot where the King recorded - even if I am not an Elvis fanatic.
From Studio B to the Ole Opry Mills and the Gibson Retail Centre which also features he manufacturing location for Gibson Banjos, Dobros and Mandolins. The centre also boasts around 800 guitars for sale - across the Gibson and Epiphone brands...
I fiddled with a Firebird, explored an Explorer but ended up falling for an ES 175 Reissue (Epiphone version of the Gibson classic) semi acoustic archtop in Tobacco Sunburst. I plugged her into a vintage amp and did battle with a thrash metal head shredding in the next door booth. I don't know who won, but the guitar was promptly purchased at an excellent price and is being shipped back to the UAE by FedEx as I am already "guitar heavy" for the flights back to Dubai....
From there back to the motel for a short rest before an early dinner with my cousins and their daughters at a very nice eaterie in downtown Nashville.
After dinner we hit the road towards the Grand Ole Opry and I could feel my facial hair growing as we approached the Mecca of Country music...
There were fewer cowboy hats than I had anticipated, but there were a lot of country fans heading into the temple of country music. This of course is the "New" Grand Ole Opry at Opryland. The old building in the centre of Nashvillethat originally housed the Opry is still there and is behind Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. Known as the Ryman building it is still used occasionally for smaller performances according to my cousin. The New Ole Opry moved out here in the seventies. They did bring a piece of the old Opry with them - a circular piece of the old stage - which is now on the stage of the new Opry.
The building for the new Grand Ole Opry (GOO) is an impressive structure and full capacity must be in the several thousands. We had great seats (generously purchased by my cousin) but high up - so I spent the first set feeling giddy and getting vertigo. I had recurring feelings that I would fall off the balcony and land on a giant cowboy hat that would somehow save my life. Happily it didn't happen.
The GOO is broadcast live across the nation so the show is actually run as a live radio show. Razor sharp timing and each of the four half hour sets is hosted by a lead artist (all of our lead artists were a minimum of 70 plus years old including two women whose make-up man earned his dollars that night). All were "country greats" and did a very good job of both hosting and singing. The slightly annoying part is the sponsor aspect which involves constant sponsor messages and read-outs for the benefit of the folks listening at home. After one set this drives you to distraction and I have taken a vow never to eat at a Cracker Barrel (main sponsor), never to but a single product from Bass Pro Shops or get any kind of system from Johnson Control (they'll put your college logo on your air conditioning unit apparently - totally bizarre...)
One of the singers - Buddy Jewel - who was promoting a new album sang a song called "This Ain't Mexico" protesting the illegal immigrants from Mexico. He prefaced it by saying it might be a little contentious. I'd describe it as bordering on racist with references to the Alamo and so on. The (mostly Southern and red neck) crowd loved it. My cousin predicted the song will turn up in one of the Presidential campaigns before November. I wouldn't be surprised either.
The music was very good and wildly varied. It included "classic country", a good dose of Bluegrass (including one band with a banjo player who only had one finger) and more rock n roll and jazzy numbers. All in all most enjoyable and the atmosphere was excellent. I'll never love country the way I love the blues and country will never be cool, but this was a very pleasant way to spend the evening and I had a great time. I'd certainly recommend the experience of the Grand Ole Opry to anyone who is headed towards Nashville.
Back to the motel after dropping my cousin's daughter off and into a deep sleep before a planned early start to head back to Memphis and the Stax Record museum "Soulsville USA"....
Nashville was a great experience and an impressive place. Seeing it with someone who grew up there and knows the history was a big advantage, but I found myself longing for Clarksdale and the blues again...
Friday, August 1, 2008
Day 6 - Memphis, TN - Nashville, TN
I left Memphis in the afternoon in a filthy storm which threatened to beat in the roof of the car - not to mention the fact that for at least 10 miles I couldn't see anything more than 3 feet away...
I headed to Nashville where I am meeting up with family from Alabama.
Aside from a truck crash, torrential downpours and gas station stops where lots of men were wearing cowboy hats, the road passed by uneventfully. I listened to the blues all the way as some kind of inoculation against being infected by country music...
I arrived at the motel just outside Nashville in the early evening and met with my cousin. His wife wasn't due up from Alabama until the next night, so we set off on a boy's night out in Nashville - except neither of us are boys as I approach middle age and he adds 30 years on top of that.
First stop was a bar & grill called Nero's where we hoovered some great steaks and had the first of what seemed like an ocean of beers...
Then we headed into Nashville proper and Broadway where all the music and beer joints are...
Now after just a few hours in Nashville one soon begins to feel the urge to grow facial hair and acquire a cowboy hat. The next phases include changing your name to Floyd or Earl, sawing off the sleeves on your otherwise perfectly good shirt, getting a tattoo done and acquiring a pick-up truck . . .
Now I am a music fan generally and enjoy country music from time to time - but I generally prefer country with attitude. Townes Van Zandt is a good example of the country music I like. But I don't like the overall saccharine flavour of most country music nor the underlying ideals of country & western music . . . it seems too "sweet"and "easy" . . . and it's just not cool. At all.
Starting off at Tootsie's (one of the most famous and oldest of the music bars on Broadway) we drowned some more beers, admired the ladies (now that is one area where country seems to beat the blues - country seems to have better looking fans . . . ) and listened to the band play a bunch of well known songs from Merle Haggard to Lambchop.
They were pretty good, but it was a bit too "Rowdy Yates" for my overall tastes although I was enjoying the guitar playing quite a bit.
(Guitar nerd aside: If I had a dollar for every Telecaster I have seen so far in Nashville, I could probably afford to retire... there is no doubt about what country music's favourite guitar is. Of course the Telecaster also has a place in the blues (Muddy used a Tele), rock (Springsteen, Keeeffffff Richards) and of course in punk with Joe Strummer of the Clash. But it's fair to say there is a distinct absence of Les Paul's, SGs, 335s and 355s or Strats . . .)
One of my things tomorrow will be a trip to the Gibson retail centre for mandolins, acoustic guitars and Dobros . . . I am going to leave me wallet in the car....
After Tootsie's we headed on down the street and visited several more bars where several more beers were packed away before we called it a night after midnight some time....
A slow drive back to the hotel and lots of great reminiscences from my cousin about his early life in Nashville (this is where he grew up) and plenty of "man talk" about the way of the world, women and wine. . .
When I got back to my room, I read about the blues for about 45 minutes . . . a little therapy for the country assault of the earlier evening...
God knows what I am going to do when I hit the Grand Ole Opry on Friday night! I think I'll have to take my Mojo hand with me for protection . . .
My body is in Nashville, but my heart is still in Clarksdale and the Delta . . .
I headed to Nashville where I am meeting up with family from Alabama.
Aside from a truck crash, torrential downpours and gas station stops where lots of men were wearing cowboy hats, the road passed by uneventfully. I listened to the blues all the way as some kind of inoculation against being infected by country music...
I arrived at the motel just outside Nashville in the early evening and met with my cousin. His wife wasn't due up from Alabama until the next night, so we set off on a boy's night out in Nashville - except neither of us are boys as I approach middle age and he adds 30 years on top of that.
First stop was a bar & grill called Nero's where we hoovered some great steaks and had the first of what seemed like an ocean of beers...
Then we headed into Nashville proper and Broadway where all the music and beer joints are...
Now after just a few hours in Nashville one soon begins to feel the urge to grow facial hair and acquire a cowboy hat. The next phases include changing your name to Floyd or Earl, sawing off the sleeves on your otherwise perfectly good shirt, getting a tattoo done and acquiring a pick-up truck . . .
Now I am a music fan generally and enjoy country music from time to time - but I generally prefer country with attitude. Townes Van Zandt is a good example of the country music I like. But I don't like the overall saccharine flavour of most country music nor the underlying ideals of country & western music . . . it seems too "sweet"and "easy" . . . and it's just not cool. At all.
Starting off at Tootsie's (one of the most famous and oldest of the music bars on Broadway) we drowned some more beers, admired the ladies (now that is one area where country seems to beat the blues - country seems to have better looking fans . . . ) and listened to the band play a bunch of well known songs from Merle Haggard to Lambchop.
They were pretty good, but it was a bit too "Rowdy Yates" for my overall tastes although I was enjoying the guitar playing quite a bit.
(Guitar nerd aside: If I had a dollar for every Telecaster I have seen so far in Nashville, I could probably afford to retire... there is no doubt about what country music's favourite guitar is. Of course the Telecaster also has a place in the blues (Muddy used a Tele), rock (Springsteen, Keeeffffff Richards) and of course in punk with Joe Strummer of the Clash. But it's fair to say there is a distinct absence of Les Paul's, SGs, 335s and 355s or Strats . . .)
One of my things tomorrow will be a trip to the Gibson retail centre for mandolins, acoustic guitars and Dobros . . . I am going to leave me wallet in the car....
After Tootsie's we headed on down the street and visited several more bars where several more beers were packed away before we called it a night after midnight some time....
A slow drive back to the hotel and lots of great reminiscences from my cousin about his early life in Nashville (this is where he grew up) and plenty of "man talk" about the way of the world, women and wine. . .
When I got back to my room, I read about the blues for about 45 minutes . . . a little therapy for the country assault of the earlier evening...
God knows what I am going to do when I hit the Grand Ole Opry on Friday night! I think I'll have to take my Mojo hand with me for protection . . .
My body is in Nashville, but my heart is still in Clarksdale and the Delta . . .
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Day 5 (part 2) - Clarksdale, MS - Memphis, TN (via the blues...)
Ok....My night in Clarksdale tonight includes:
A girl named "Red" who just got out of Parchman Farm where she'd been put away for drug possession and who was sporting a black eye having beaten up a guy two days before, a bluesman in white crocodile leather shoes by the name of Razorblade, a gospel singing bluesman with a wig by the name of Bilbo, a chain smoking octogenerian queen of fried catfish called Sarah who runs Clarksdale's best Juke Joint, and a drug dealer who goes by the name of "Killer" because - and I quote - "He has wasted three motherf@+kers already. Although us white people is fine cuz he only kills black people as he's black. We whities - we're just business".... And some of the best, most authentic live blues I have ever seen or heard.
I think I'd probably better explain....
So I finish up my pork n beans at Abe's and head on over to the Ground Zero Blues Club at the end of Delta Avenue by the railroad tracks in Clarksdale...
Ground Zero is half owned by the actor Morgan Freeman who lives about forty minutes from Clarksdale and was born and raised in the area. It is in the style of the old juke joints. Juke joints were the small buildings where black people would go to relax at the end of the week. They would typically be small, primitive and the core functions would be listening to live music, dancing, drinking and gambling. As records came in and live music in places like this faded the music was replaced by a "juke box". (More on juke joints at http://wapedia.mobi/en/Juke_joint)
Ground Zero is much larger than a juke joint typically is and while looking very authentic is clearly a slightly sanitised and modernized version of the old style music places.
It is however something of a Mecca for blues people and just the week before Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin had been on the stage at Ground Zero...
Tonight it was Bill "Howl N Madd" Perry from Tula, Mississippi (about 30 mins north of Clarksdale) who was on stage with his band including his son on piano.
Howl N Madd has a great voice - a little like Howlin' Wolf but with some honey on those bass growling hollers... And he plays mean guitar.
I went straight to a seat right by the side of the stage and became transfixed. Like most guitar players when I watch other musicians I fixate on the guitar players. I watch how they finger notes, how they move chord shapes, bend notes, do their vibrato and on the right hand I watch their picking / strumming style. I am useless to talk to at these times as I sit there open mouthed and totally focused. (Bill Perry plays a cherry red strat and uses just his fingers - no picks - with his thumb doing the down strokes and picking single line solos and his fingers doing the up strum. Very typical of delta blues guitarists and the second guitarist used the same style.)
During a break between sets I met and chatted with Bill. He was impressed that a guy from Arabia had made it to Clarksdale and was there listening to the blues. We got a photo taken and I bought a couple of his CDs.
Then in came "Red". I'd met her a couple of days before when I spent my afternoon in the Delta Amusement bar drinking beers and chatting with Gary Williams of Bluessource.com. Red had a black eye which she'd got when some guy tried to rip off her computer. She beat him up, got the computer back, but he landed her with a sucker punch and blacked her eye. I'd mentioned to someone in the bar that day that I was writing a blog and somehow that got translated into me being a journalist... So Red decides she wants to tell me all the stories of Clarksdale where she was born and raised.
She been released from Parchman Farm penitentiary 8 weeks ago where she'd done time for drug possession. She was very proud of this "rite of passage" and continued to tell me how she wanted to buy the bar down the street where we met. I was half listening to her but mainly concentrated on the stage and the blues. After a while Red said she was going out to score some drugs and asked me to watch her drink. As she was a warm hearted type I duly took over drink surveillance as she went to get some weed.
She was back in a little while and told me excitedly about the dealer - who goes by the name of "Killer". I rather naively asked why he had that name and was told in Red's impressive Southern vernacular: "coz he kills people stooopid! He's wasted three motherf@+kers already and he's a scary bastard. Mind you, he don't bother me. He don't like to kill us white people. We're just business. He's black so he only really kills black people."
Well that cleared that up then.
NOTE: Mr. Killer, if you're reading this blog I'd like to make it clear that a) I'm white and therefore not worth killing and b) wasting motherf@+kers and dealing dope is I'm sure a most interesting vocation and far be it for me to cast any aspersions. If you need to speak to me about any of the above, my name is Tony Blair and I live in Islington in London.
I got back into Bill "Howl N Madd" Perry as he and the band launched into renditions of Red House and The Blues is Alright... Then in walked a cat who was cool.
White crocodile leather shoes, brown flared trousers and a brown and white shirt and a black hat. The cat was at least 70. The cat was Josh Stewart - known as Razorblade. Coz he's mighty sharp.... Uh huh.
Razorblade drifted by and said "How y'all doin'" I responded in kind and asked him how he was.
He replied in a cool, slow drawl, "I'm alive..."
Razorblade was cool, cool, cool and I got my photo taken with him and got chatting. He is a Clarksdale resident and was raised here. He's a singer and was looking at doing a couple of numbers with the band on stage. There wasn't a woman who walked by us and who was under 50 that Razorblade didn't try it on with.... When the inevitable hustle came it wasn't of the "buy me a drink" variety, but "buy my CD"... Which I duly did for a highly inflated $20. Razorblade went out to get me a CD and came back saying "this is good shit man. I sing real good and people like this CD. I promise you it's good and if it ain't I'll buy it right back off of you!" With that kind of money back guarantee who can refuse!
I even provided the solution to a mini crisis when a guy from the audience who used to play with Bill Perry wanted to get up and play harmonica with the band. Bill welcomed him up - but the guy didn't have any harps with him. A bit like asking if there was a doctor in the house, Bill asked if anyone had a harmonica... No answer except from me. I had bought a blues harp in the key of C from Helena that morning. I got it from the car and the guy went up an played three songs with storming harp solos. The first notes on my new harmonica played by a pro...cool.
A guy called Jeff - another massive blues fan whom I had met on the Hopson Plantation - came into Ground Zero and said he had been to Sarah's Kitchen - a real old fashioned juke joint around the corner - and said that it was cool. I'd been told about Sarah's so I finished my beer and set off for my next session.
I'd had an amazing time at Ground Zero and had heard some really outstanding, genuine, local Mississippi blues so I was thinking that it would be tough for Sarah's Kitchen to top that.
How wrong I was.
I really can't begin to describe the scene and atmosphere at Sarah's Kitchen. It was amazing. I rolled up to the sound of blue notes whispering through the otherwise quiet night in Clarksdale. I opened up the door and walked into a room about the same size as my dining room and living room at home. There were maybe 25 people in there and 35 would have been capacity full. The band was a three piece - drums, bass and guitar. The other side of the joint was the kitchen - Sarah's Kitchen where fried Okra, fried catfish and fried chicken were all cooked by the proprietor Sarah - an octogenerian black lady who was so laid back she was horizontal. Chain smoking furiously, she welcomed me in, got me a drink and joined me in a photo.
The place was half blacks half whites - all chilling out and having fun together. Most people highly lubricated.
The band was lead by Robert "Bilbo" Walker. Robert didn't have many teeth and judging by his very curious wig (the most obvious wig I ever saw) even less hair. He was born 71 years ago near Clarksdale and was friends with another famous musician from this town - Ike Turner. He did a spell in Chicago as a blues musician before moving to Bakersfield in California where he started a farm growing watermelons. He still plays the blues across California and through to Chicago always stopping off in Clarksdale on his way through. In the 90's he also produced albums for Smokey Robinson and The Miracles and Marvin Gaye.
When I went in, Robert was on the bass while the young man who was his bass player (a local Clarksdale boy) was on his red stratocaster.
This boy was amazing. He sang Sweet Home Chicago and played the hell out of the audience and the guitar. He played it behind his back and behind his head. He played it kneeling and he played it lying down. He had talent. Serious talent - but all his respect was for Robert Walker. His senior, his elder.
Bilbo was cool on bass and while the young man had huge talent, 50 plus years of performing have something too. Bilbo Walker took back the guitar and did three or four numbers including a gospel song which he sang very soulfully - and then finished on his famous version of the Chuck Berry classic "Johnny B Good" (which was actually written for Berry by his longtime piano player Johnny Johnson)
Robert "Bilbo" Walker ended the set with a sermon to the audience:
"I sing the blues to make a living, a few dollars, but every Sunday I'm in a church somewhere singing to God. And that is from my heart. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you can't do none of it if God ain't with you. You may be having fun but if God ain't with you, you ain't gonna make it home."
Amen Brother Robert.
And on that note Sarah's Kitchen was empty within 5 minutes. I need to use the bathroom before I got in the car and headed for Memphis and went out back.
When I came out it was the band and Sarah left. The band sat around a table counting their tip money. I stopped and gave them 20 bucks. They nearly collapsed. Robert put out his hand and shook mine hard and said " That's what I call supporting the music. Thank you man. You're a good man." And then he went back to counting his money...
I got in the car, put the roof down, put Razorblade's CD on the stereo and set off into the night towards Memphis along the old Highway 61 with Blues wailing in the darkness...
These words don't do any justice at all to what I experienced in Clarksdale tonight. My soul was touched, my heart was warmed and my brain engaged as I reconciled this amazing music with its history and roots. My only sadness was the resounding confirmation that the best I can ever hope for or strive for is to be an average blues guitar player... I doubt if I have the talent for any more than that and I know that I will never have the experiences that will make me blue enough to really communicate the blues.
But I can always enjoy others who do and who can.
And so can you.
If you're ever in these parts or if you love the blues then I beg and beseach you to go to Clarksdale on a Wednesday, Thursday. Friday or Saturday and listen to the blues in its home...
A girl named "Red" who just got out of Parchman Farm where she'd been put away for drug possession and who was sporting a black eye having beaten up a guy two days before, a bluesman in white crocodile leather shoes by the name of Razorblade, a gospel singing bluesman with a wig by the name of Bilbo, a chain smoking octogenerian queen of fried catfish called Sarah who runs Clarksdale's best Juke Joint, and a drug dealer who goes by the name of "Killer" because - and I quote - "He has wasted three motherf@+kers already. Although us white people is fine cuz he only kills black people as he's black. We whities - we're just business".... And some of the best, most authentic live blues I have ever seen or heard.
I think I'd probably better explain....
So I finish up my pork n beans at Abe's and head on over to the Ground Zero Blues Club at the end of Delta Avenue by the railroad tracks in Clarksdale...
Ground Zero is half owned by the actor Morgan Freeman who lives about forty minutes from Clarksdale and was born and raised in the area. It is in the style of the old juke joints. Juke joints were the small buildings where black people would go to relax at the end of the week. They would typically be small, primitive and the core functions would be listening to live music, dancing, drinking and gambling. As records came in and live music in places like this faded the music was replaced by a "juke box". (More on juke joints at http://wapedia.mobi/en/Juke_joint)
Ground Zero is much larger than a juke joint typically is and while looking very authentic is clearly a slightly sanitised and modernized version of the old style music places.
It is however something of a Mecca for blues people and just the week before Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin had been on the stage at Ground Zero...
Tonight it was Bill "Howl N Madd" Perry from Tula, Mississippi (about 30 mins north of Clarksdale) who was on stage with his band including his son on piano.
Howl N Madd has a great voice - a little like Howlin' Wolf but with some honey on those bass growling hollers... And he plays mean guitar.
I went straight to a seat right by the side of the stage and became transfixed. Like most guitar players when I watch other musicians I fixate on the guitar players. I watch how they finger notes, how they move chord shapes, bend notes, do their vibrato and on the right hand I watch their picking / strumming style. I am useless to talk to at these times as I sit there open mouthed and totally focused. (Bill Perry plays a cherry red strat and uses just his fingers - no picks - with his thumb doing the down strokes and picking single line solos and his fingers doing the up strum. Very typical of delta blues guitarists and the second guitarist used the same style.)
During a break between sets I met and chatted with Bill. He was impressed that a guy from Arabia had made it to Clarksdale and was there listening to the blues. We got a photo taken and I bought a couple of his CDs.
Then in came "Red". I'd met her a couple of days before when I spent my afternoon in the Delta Amusement bar drinking beers and chatting with Gary Williams of Bluessource.com. Red had a black eye which she'd got when some guy tried to rip off her computer. She beat him up, got the computer back, but he landed her with a sucker punch and blacked her eye. I'd mentioned to someone in the bar that day that I was writing a blog and somehow that got translated into me being a journalist... So Red decides she wants to tell me all the stories of Clarksdale where she was born and raised.
She been released from Parchman Farm penitentiary 8 weeks ago where she'd done time for drug possession. She was very proud of this "rite of passage" and continued to tell me how she wanted to buy the bar down the street where we met. I was half listening to her but mainly concentrated on the stage and the blues. After a while Red said she was going out to score some drugs and asked me to watch her drink. As she was a warm hearted type I duly took over drink surveillance as she went to get some weed.
She was back in a little while and told me excitedly about the dealer - who goes by the name of "Killer". I rather naively asked why he had that name and was told in Red's impressive Southern vernacular: "coz he kills people stooopid! He's wasted three motherf@+kers already and he's a scary bastard. Mind you, he don't bother me. He don't like to kill us white people. We're just business. He's black so he only really kills black people."
Well that cleared that up then.
NOTE: Mr. Killer, if you're reading this blog I'd like to make it clear that a) I'm white and therefore not worth killing and b) wasting motherf@+kers and dealing dope is I'm sure a most interesting vocation and far be it for me to cast any aspersions. If you need to speak to me about any of the above, my name is Tony Blair and I live in Islington in London.
I got back into Bill "Howl N Madd" Perry as he and the band launched into renditions of Red House and The Blues is Alright... Then in walked a cat who was cool.
White crocodile leather shoes, brown flared trousers and a brown and white shirt and a black hat. The cat was at least 70. The cat was Josh Stewart - known as Razorblade. Coz he's mighty sharp.... Uh huh.
Razorblade drifted by and said "How y'all doin'" I responded in kind and asked him how he was.
He replied in a cool, slow drawl, "I'm alive..."
Razorblade was cool, cool, cool and I got my photo taken with him and got chatting. He is a Clarksdale resident and was raised here. He's a singer and was looking at doing a couple of numbers with the band on stage. There wasn't a woman who walked by us and who was under 50 that Razorblade didn't try it on with.... When the inevitable hustle came it wasn't of the "buy me a drink" variety, but "buy my CD"... Which I duly did for a highly inflated $20. Razorblade went out to get me a CD and came back saying "this is good shit man. I sing real good and people like this CD. I promise you it's good and if it ain't I'll buy it right back off of you!" With that kind of money back guarantee who can refuse!
I even provided the solution to a mini crisis when a guy from the audience who used to play with Bill Perry wanted to get up and play harmonica with the band. Bill welcomed him up - but the guy didn't have any harps with him. A bit like asking if there was a doctor in the house, Bill asked if anyone had a harmonica... No answer except from me. I had bought a blues harp in the key of C from Helena that morning. I got it from the car and the guy went up an played three songs with storming harp solos. The first notes on my new harmonica played by a pro...cool.
A guy called Jeff - another massive blues fan whom I had met on the Hopson Plantation - came into Ground Zero and said he had been to Sarah's Kitchen - a real old fashioned juke joint around the corner - and said that it was cool. I'd been told about Sarah's so I finished my beer and set off for my next session.
I'd had an amazing time at Ground Zero and had heard some really outstanding, genuine, local Mississippi blues so I was thinking that it would be tough for Sarah's Kitchen to top that.
How wrong I was.
I really can't begin to describe the scene and atmosphere at Sarah's Kitchen. It was amazing. I rolled up to the sound of blue notes whispering through the otherwise quiet night in Clarksdale. I opened up the door and walked into a room about the same size as my dining room and living room at home. There were maybe 25 people in there and 35 would have been capacity full. The band was a three piece - drums, bass and guitar. The other side of the joint was the kitchen - Sarah's Kitchen where fried Okra, fried catfish and fried chicken were all cooked by the proprietor Sarah - an octogenerian black lady who was so laid back she was horizontal. Chain smoking furiously, she welcomed me in, got me a drink and joined me in a photo.
The place was half blacks half whites - all chilling out and having fun together. Most people highly lubricated.
The band was lead by Robert "Bilbo" Walker. Robert didn't have many teeth and judging by his very curious wig (the most obvious wig I ever saw) even less hair. He was born 71 years ago near Clarksdale and was friends with another famous musician from this town - Ike Turner. He did a spell in Chicago as a blues musician before moving to Bakersfield in California where he started a farm growing watermelons. He still plays the blues across California and through to Chicago always stopping off in Clarksdale on his way through. In the 90's he also produced albums for Smokey Robinson and The Miracles and Marvin Gaye.
When I went in, Robert was on the bass while the young man who was his bass player (a local Clarksdale boy) was on his red stratocaster.
This boy was amazing. He sang Sweet Home Chicago and played the hell out of the audience and the guitar. He played it behind his back and behind his head. He played it kneeling and he played it lying down. He had talent. Serious talent - but all his respect was for Robert Walker. His senior, his elder.
Bilbo was cool on bass and while the young man had huge talent, 50 plus years of performing have something too. Bilbo Walker took back the guitar and did three or four numbers including a gospel song which he sang very soulfully - and then finished on his famous version of the Chuck Berry classic "Johnny B Good" (which was actually written for Berry by his longtime piano player Johnny Johnson)
Robert "Bilbo" Walker ended the set with a sermon to the audience:
"I sing the blues to make a living, a few dollars, but every Sunday I'm in a church somewhere singing to God. And that is from my heart. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you can't do none of it if God ain't with you. You may be having fun but if God ain't with you, you ain't gonna make it home."
Amen Brother Robert.
And on that note Sarah's Kitchen was empty within 5 minutes. I need to use the bathroom before I got in the car and headed for Memphis and went out back.
When I came out it was the band and Sarah left. The band sat around a table counting their tip money. I stopped and gave them 20 bucks. They nearly collapsed. Robert put out his hand and shook mine hard and said " That's what I call supporting the music. Thank you man. You're a good man." And then he went back to counting his money...
I got in the car, put the roof down, put Razorblade's CD on the stereo and set off into the night towards Memphis along the old Highway 61 with Blues wailing in the darkness...
These words don't do any justice at all to what I experienced in Clarksdale tonight. My soul was touched, my heart was warmed and my brain engaged as I reconciled this amazing music with its history and roots. My only sadness was the resounding confirmation that the best I can ever hope for or strive for is to be an average blues guitar player... I doubt if I have the talent for any more than that and I know that I will never have the experiences that will make me blue enough to really communicate the blues.
But I can always enjoy others who do and who can.
And so can you.
If you're ever in these parts or if you love the blues then I beg and beseach you to go to Clarksdale on a Wednesday, Thursday. Friday or Saturday and listen to the blues in its home...
Day 5(part 1) - Memphis, TN - Helena, AR - Clarksdale, MS - Rosedale, MS
Today was a huge day. Today was a blues day - all senses. Today was probably the best day of the trip so far...
Heading out of Memphis I set off to Helena, AR with John Lee Hooker and Sam Lightnin' Hopkins accompanying me down Highway 61.
Helena was Arkansas's answer to Clarksdale and became a very important blues centre for delta blues.
It is home to WFFA Radio and the "King Biscuit Time" radio show - a blues dedicated radio show - which is broadcast still today from the Delta Cultural Centre in Helena on Cherry St.
Many blues artists in the 30s through to the 60s came in and out of Helena. Robert Johnson lived here for several years and married a local woman whose son - Robert Lockwood - became the only person who Robert Johnson taught how to play the guitar. Lockwood, on account of also being called Robert, became known as Robert Junior Lockwood. Born in 1915 he lived to be 91 and died in November 2006. Dick Waterman described him as one of the most foul mouthed people he has ever met, but a lovely man...
From Dick's book - "Between Midnight & Day":
"Let's say that everyone on earth is allocated a certain number of curse words to use in their lifetime. Now take a couple of thousand nuns and remove their curse words because they won't ever use them. Take those curse words and give them to a hot-tempered old man with bad attitude and a short fuse. Welcome to the world of Robert Lockwood.
To put it quite simply, Robert has no tact, no civility, no sense of decorum, and a total inability not to give you the blunt truth right to your face. And I love him madly."
Helena is home to the Delta Cultural Center - a museum featuring excellent exhibits on the blues and its development as well as an overview of the artists which were either native to Helena like Robert Jr Lockwood and Robert Nighthawk or adopted like Robert Johnson and Alec "Rice" Miller - who was better known as Sonny Boy Williamson II.
This is a great museum and well worth the visit as it is genuinely instructional and informative.
The town of Helena is also worth driving around. It's small but expands massively every year to host the King Biscuit Time Blues Festival. On most corners and down the streets you can find juke joints and food places selling fried catfish, chicken and bbq and many still have their original facades - now slightly faded.
I headed back to Clarksdale crossing the Mississippi once again with Alvin Youngblood Hart's "Big Mama's Door" playing sweetly in my ears. Alvin Youngblood is a contemporary bluesman who sounds like he's from the 1930s. Playing acoustic and slide he has a beautiful playing style and a powerful voice. Gary Williams of the Bluessource.com had told me that he was a very belligerent, aggressive and foul mouthed man who is forgiven all of the above because of his enormous talent. I thoroughly recommend him.
This time I was determined to visit the Delta Blues Museum. I pulled up with about 40 mins of Museum opening time left. Unlike the Delta Cultural Center in Helena which is free - here there is a 7$ entrance fee, although they discounted mine to 5$ as there wasn't much opening time left.
This museum is very different from the Delta Cultural Center. It displays wonderful collections of vintage guitars and other instruments, performance costumes, photographs and so on - as well as a whole corner devoted to Muddy Waters - but it lacks the information and instruction that its counterpart in Helena has. I would certainly recommend seeing both.
As the museum closed at 5pm I went for a cup of coffee and to find out what time the music was going to start in the evening...
With a couple of hours or so to kill before the blues started I decided to head on down to Rosedale - another place which is believed to be the location of "the Crossroads" of Robert Johnson fame. Indeed, many people believe that it was here that Johnson met the devil - where Highway 8 and Highway 1 meet...
The road to Rosedale was lovely - with the last light of the day just before it fades to dusk. Swamp and marsh either side of the road as I headed towards the Mississippi with Muddy Water's classic tracks playing a cool rhythmic accompaniment to the tires of the car clacking on the seems of the highway...
Rosedale is small and quite pretty in parts with some lovely houses and their immaculate lawns. Downtown is a little run-down like many places around these parts.
After a quick moment of reflection at the Crossroads of Highway's 8 and 1, I headed off back to Clarksdale in the direction of Abe's BBQ to go get me a fill of pork BBQ, beans and slaw...
I put on Eric for my journey back to Clarksdale - this time an album simply called "Blues". Having been a bit savage about Eric in an earlier posting on this blog, I am now going to have to take most of what I said back. He really loves the Blues and as much as a white boy from Kingston Upon Thames can have the blues, he has had the blues and it shows in his music. And he is an amazing guitarist. When he sings as Eric -rather than trying to imitate or emulate - he sounds a lot better to my mind.
So Eric delivers me at Abe's and I chow down in impressive fashion before part 2 of my day begins...
Heading out of Memphis I set off to Helena, AR with John Lee Hooker and Sam Lightnin' Hopkins accompanying me down Highway 61.
Helena was Arkansas's answer to Clarksdale and became a very important blues centre for delta blues.
It is home to WFFA Radio and the "King Biscuit Time" radio show - a blues dedicated radio show - which is broadcast still today from the Delta Cultural Centre in Helena on Cherry St.
Many blues artists in the 30s through to the 60s came in and out of Helena. Robert Johnson lived here for several years and married a local woman whose son - Robert Lockwood - became the only person who Robert Johnson taught how to play the guitar. Lockwood, on account of also being called Robert, became known as Robert Junior Lockwood. Born in 1915 he lived to be 91 and died in November 2006. Dick Waterman described him as one of the most foul mouthed people he has ever met, but a lovely man...
From Dick's book - "Between Midnight & Day":
"Let's say that everyone on earth is allocated a certain number of curse words to use in their lifetime. Now take a couple of thousand nuns and remove their curse words because they won't ever use them. Take those curse words and give them to a hot-tempered old man with bad attitude and a short fuse. Welcome to the world of Robert Lockwood.
To put it quite simply, Robert has no tact, no civility, no sense of decorum, and a total inability not to give you the blunt truth right to your face. And I love him madly."
Helena is home to the Delta Cultural Center - a museum featuring excellent exhibits on the blues and its development as well as an overview of the artists which were either native to Helena like Robert Jr Lockwood and Robert Nighthawk or adopted like Robert Johnson and Alec "Rice" Miller - who was better known as Sonny Boy Williamson II.
This is a great museum and well worth the visit as it is genuinely instructional and informative.
The town of Helena is also worth driving around. It's small but expands massively every year to host the King Biscuit Time Blues Festival. On most corners and down the streets you can find juke joints and food places selling fried catfish, chicken and bbq and many still have their original facades - now slightly faded.
I headed back to Clarksdale crossing the Mississippi once again with Alvin Youngblood Hart's "Big Mama's Door" playing sweetly in my ears. Alvin Youngblood is a contemporary bluesman who sounds like he's from the 1930s. Playing acoustic and slide he has a beautiful playing style and a powerful voice. Gary Williams of the Bluessource.com had told me that he was a very belligerent, aggressive and foul mouthed man who is forgiven all of the above because of his enormous talent. I thoroughly recommend him.
This time I was determined to visit the Delta Blues Museum. I pulled up with about 40 mins of Museum opening time left. Unlike the Delta Cultural Center in Helena which is free - here there is a 7$ entrance fee, although they discounted mine to 5$ as there wasn't much opening time left.
This museum is very different from the Delta Cultural Center. It displays wonderful collections of vintage guitars and other instruments, performance costumes, photographs and so on - as well as a whole corner devoted to Muddy Waters - but it lacks the information and instruction that its counterpart in Helena has. I would certainly recommend seeing both.
As the museum closed at 5pm I went for a cup of coffee and to find out what time the music was going to start in the evening...
With a couple of hours or so to kill before the blues started I decided to head on down to Rosedale - another place which is believed to be the location of "the Crossroads" of Robert Johnson fame. Indeed, many people believe that it was here that Johnson met the devil - where Highway 8 and Highway 1 meet...
The road to Rosedale was lovely - with the last light of the day just before it fades to dusk. Swamp and marsh either side of the road as I headed towards the Mississippi with Muddy Water's classic tracks playing a cool rhythmic accompaniment to the tires of the car clacking on the seems of the highway...
Rosedale is small and quite pretty in parts with some lovely houses and their immaculate lawns. Downtown is a little run-down like many places around these parts.
After a quick moment of reflection at the Crossroads of Highway's 8 and 1, I headed off back to Clarksdale in the direction of Abe's BBQ to go get me a fill of pork BBQ, beans and slaw...
I put on Eric for my journey back to Clarksdale - this time an album simply called "Blues". Having been a bit savage about Eric in an earlier posting on this blog, I am now going to have to take most of what I said back. He really loves the Blues and as much as a white boy from Kingston Upon Thames can have the blues, he has had the blues and it shows in his music. And he is an amazing guitarist. When he sings as Eric -rather than trying to imitate or emulate - he sounds a lot better to my mind.
So Eric delivers me at Abe's and I chow down in impressive fashion before part 2 of my day begins...
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