In my recent post on guitarist Robert Quine, I pulled together a few personal stories while carefully sidestepping any attempt to define his musical legacy. That’s better left to those who can speak with a lot more authority on all of the disparate influences that came together in downtown NYC in the mid-‘70s – punk, new wave, no wave, avant garde… I’m sure someone will argue that I’m already using the wrong terms here.

Art Garfunkel, The Boxer

I can’t even lay claim to my favorite Rob story. According to his friend The Hound (whose blog is listed at right), Rob was once punched in the face by Art Garfunkel when Rob told him that his act with Paul Simon was “for people too dumb for Bob Dylan.” So my cousin may have been the only person on the planet (other than Simon, maybe) who could say he was sucker-punched by Art Garfunkel.

My post on Rob certainly gave me a greater appreciation of the size, scope and reach of his output over 35 years as a working musician. And sometimes it takes an unexpected source to really drive it home – like the jolt of hearing Rob’s jagged guitar closing an episode of HBO’s fine new series, “How To Make It In America.”

Now that CD box sets are going the way of the cathode-ray tube TV and, well, the CD, it seems unfortunate that Rob’s career never got the full box treatment. I mean, the German Bear Family label delivers a 12-CD set of the “Singing Ranger” Hank Snow, and we got bupkis on Quine? OK, maybe that’s not a good example – I’m just the kind of nutball who would plow through 12 CDs of Snow.

But a stray comment following one of The Hound’s posts on Rob got me thinking, what would even the most basic compilation of his stuff sound like? Just a quick look at Rob’s discography would scare away even the most disciplined producer. Recordings with Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Richard Hell, Lydia Lunch, John Zorn, Marianne Faithfull, Brian Eno, They Might Be Giants, Lloyd Cole, Matthew Sweet… full-bore rockers, experimental soundtracks, atmospheric instrumentals, catchy pop songs, off-kilter blues and R&B… How could anyone create a seamless, cohesive listening experience out of this body of work?

Maybe that’s not the point. You could certainly separate the pop/rock stuff from the soundtracks and instrumentals, but you’d still be jarred by sudden shifts – from low-fi to high-quality production; from gentle, airy soundscapes to angry squalls of distorted guitar. But why should listening to a Quine compilation be any different from a conversation with a guy who could go from Link Wray to Miles Davis in 10 seconds flat?

I won’t even try to offer the definitive list of Rob’s essential recordings. But I have a few favorites that should be part of any meaningful attempt to capture the high points of Rob’s career, and I’ve included samples to get the argument started.

Most worthwhile box sets start with those early, formative recordings – think The Band (aka The Hawks) with Ronnie Hawkins. And we now have a few good ones featuring Rob, courtesy of his old friend and bandmate, Barry Silverblatt, and posted by The Hound here. Back in the Sixties, Rob and Barry played together in a band called Bruce’s Farm. This solo from a cover of the Kinks’ Where Have All The Good Times Gone offers ample evidence that Rob already had his chops together before he hit NYC (excuse the sound on this one). Where Have All The Good Times Gone/Robert Quine solo (Bruce’s Farm)

Recorded in 1977, Blank Generation by Richard Hell and the Voidoids is an undeniably great record. And it underscores a comment Rob made to The Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach (another cousin): “Everything I do is just a variation on Chuck Berry.” He was only half-kidding. In some of his rock ‘n roll solos, Rob seems to take the same basic licks that Berry used to great effect on his classic hits and turn them inside-out, almost beyond recognition. Almost.

The next sample starts with Chuck Berry’s solo on Thirty Days and moves to Rob’s playing on Love Comes In Spurts. Is it just me, or does Rob sound like Berry trying to play one of his signature solos while getting zapped by a bad amp? Thirty Days/Chuck Berry + Love Comes In Spurts/Richard Hell and the Voidoids

Most of the critical praise is heaped on Rob’s recordings with Lou Reed, and that probably has as much to do with Reed as it does with Rob. I sampled two favorites in my last post – Betrayed (“Live in Italy”), because Rob’s convoluted country solo seems to be a tip of the shades to ace string-bender James Burton, and Waiting For My Man (“A Night With Lou Reed”), from a filmed performance at the Bottom Line in 1983. Rob’s playing on the latter is as potent as anything I’ve heard from any guitarist… simply brilliant. In the video at the end of “Encounters,” Rob’s first solo starts at around 2:00, and he comes back in at 3:40. Here’s another standout cut from the Lou Reed era, The Gun from “The Blue Mask.” The lyrics set the dark mood, but the tension builds with Rob’s sinister fills. A lesson in how to serve the song… The Gun/Lou Reed with Robert Quine

Move to 1984… I’ve always liked this number from Rob’s collaboration with drummer Fred Maher, “Basic.” I’m not exactly sure what he’s doing here, but it’s a fairly unusual chord progression – maybe something that rubbed off when he took jazz guitar lessons from the great Jimmy Raney. And he’s adding a little dissonance with a few well-placed overdubs. So it’s one of those “something doesn’t sound quite right, so it must be right” numbers. The programmed drums come across as a bit dated, but not heavy handed. Is he re-imagining the Sixties from a more cynical time and place? Maybe, but it sounds heartfelt to me. ’65/Robert Quine and Fred Maher

The next year, Rob teamed up with Rolling Stone Keith Richards, fellow Akronite Ralph Carney and others to record “Rain Dogs” with Tom Waits. Rob only appears on two cuts – Blind Love, featuring some fine interplay between Rob and Richards, and Downtown Train, which eventually became a monster hit for Rod “The Bod” Stewart. Rob’s contributions on the two songs are fairly minimal, but his insistent rhythm on Downtown Train was picked up on the remake by Stewart’s guitarist, Jeff Golub – another Akron native. This is starting to get complicated… Downtown Train/Tom Waits with Robert Quine

Now we get to Rob’s first and only appearance on a bona fide hit – as guitarist on Matthew Sweet’s Girlfriend, a Top 10 single in 1991. I’d argue it features some of the most dangerous guitar playing ever heard on hit radio. But I’m family… you be the judge: Girlfriend/Matthew Sweet with Robert Quine

Rob had finally rubbed up against some mainstream success and recognition. So what did he do next? Play even more obscure and challenging music, of course – including an ongoing collaboration with avant-garde composer and saxophonist John Zorn. Here’s a 1995 duet with fellow NYC guitarist Jody Harris (who Rob described as “tragically underrated”) from a compilation titled “Come Together: A Guitar Tribute to the Beatles” – Rob’s guitar is the dominant voice on this sample: Yes It Is/Jody Harris and Robert Quine

Rob had an especially productive year in 1997. He contributed to a few albums by Zorn, worked with Marc Ribot on Ikue Mori’s “Painted Desert” (sampled on my previous post) and took part in what he described as his most positive experience in the studio – “Valdun: Voices of Rumantsch” by Corin Curschellas. Rumantsch is a rare language spoken by only a few thousand people in the Alpine valleys of Switzerland. But Corin’s music approaches almost mainstream pop, which makes this an unusual outing for Rob. I like his relaxed, expansive playing on this number from “Valdun”: Al Mar/Corin Curschellas with Robert Quine

I’ll close with a recording Rob did in 2001 with legendary R&B showman and pulp author Andre Williams. After he burned his way through this one, Rob reportedly said, “Now I’ve worked with two geniuses, Lou Reed and Andre Williams.” Head First/Andre Williams with Robert Quine

So those are just a few of my favorite Rob moments… and they’re certainly not based on an encyclopedic knowledge of his recorded oeuvre, as the Times might say. I’ll also fully admit that I came across a few cuts that didn’t move me at all.

I’m just a guy who plays broke-dick guitar, paying tribute to a true master – an underrated one at that. And just a single-disc compilation from an enterprising label (Nonesuch, are you listening?) would help right that wrong.

Robert Quine with Matthew Sweet on the Dennis Miller show – 1992… workin’ that whammy bar. Former Gang of Four bassist Sara Lee is on the other side of the stage. You’ll have to suffer through about 30 seconds of Miller being a dipshit (turn up the volume on this one).

From the same show – Sweet’s I’ve Been Waiting. Rob was a huge fan of The Byrds, so this was like tossing raw meat to a junkyard dog.

Big week for The Black Keys – “Brothers” is the Number 1 new rock album in the country (Soundscan)… Number 3 overall if you count “Glee” – which is exactly what you’d expect if you brought a high school glee club into a studio to cover hoary rock hits – and “Exile on Main Street,” which the Stones spent a small fortune promoting. So congratulations, Dan and Pat… an amazing achievement that may have missed the attention of the local press, but now is gaining notice throughout the RCR blogosphere (mainly, those of you who didn’t get the email from Dan’s mom).

Oh, they also played the Letterman and Jimmy Fallon shows. Here’s the Letterman performance of Tighten Up, followed up by the “official” video of the song, which is easily one of the funniest music videos I’ve ever seen:

Akron is full of entrepreneurs. Some do their work out in the open, others operate on the fringes. My old friend Jim Rauh exists somewhere in between, so when he first talked to me about his latest brainchild, I was a little skeptical. Basically, it goes something like this…

A certain company’s manufacturing process generates a fair amount of byproduct – a highly absorbent, cross-linked foam material. According to Jim, this stuff is completely non-toxic and non-hazardous.

But more to the point – e.g. The Gulf – it absorbs 20 times its weight in oil. It also absorbs water, of course, but that water is displaced as the material comes into contact with oil. And the absorbed oil can be used as fuel or possibly extricated and reused.

So why am I turning into a believer? I’ll blame this youtube video that Jim made with his son, Teddy. Granted, it’s not exactly Shamwow-quality, but I think it gets the point across fairly well…

Desperate times, desperate measures… Someone tell me why this won’t work. Jim sent the video to BP and the office of Ohio Sen. Sherrod Brown. Stay tuned for updates!

LeBron, post-LeBacle

The Cavs crashed and burned, the team’s fragile chemistry in ruins. LeBron’s making noise about leaving town. The Indians can’t hold a lead, and Asdrubal Cabrera broke his arm diving for a ball. Meanwhile, in my mom’s hometown of Milledgeville, GA, world-class whackjob Ben Roethlisberger is doing his best General Sherman as he cuts a wide swath of destruction through the countryside.

And that’s just the bad news in the world of sports. The economy’s still in the crapper… Dan of The Black Keys is thinking about moving to Nashville (Pat’s already in NYC)… Oh, and HBO’s “Treme” still sucks, for the most part – even though the music is first-rate.

I got the blues, baby, and I got ‘em bad.

Of course, the best antidote is more blues – or maybe a little old-school soul or rock ‘n roll. Anything to get my mind off this sad state of affairs here in America’s heartbreak… I mean, heartland.

Now, I won’t weigh in on the many rumors swirling around the Cavs following yet another gut-wrenching postseason in Northeast Ohio. And I have no idea who will show up to play when the team gets back together later this year for training camp. But I can’t help but think that “the plan” LeBron keeps referring to is all about getting a Ring for the King, no matter where he plays. Meanwhile, the goal of bringing the next major sports championship to Cleveland remains as elusive as Lady Ga Ga’s good taste.

Future home of RCR

Lots of theories about where LeBron will end up. I’m guessing Cleveland is now a long shot, even though the Cavs built the Taj Mahal of training facilities only minutes away from LeBron’s Dubai-scale house, which is just down the road from a large architect’s model of Rubber City Review’s new world headquarters (at right: pending stimulus grant approval). One theory has him hooking up with Dwyane Wade and several other A-listers in Chicago, where they could bring back the glory days of Michael Jordan and Scotty Pippen. But I think the great bluesman Jimmy Reed knew all along where LeBron would land – so if you’re from Northeast Ohio, listen and weep… Jimmy Reed

Actually, at this point I’m sort of agnostic when it comes to LeBron and The Black Keys leaving town (in Dan’s case, it gives me another cool place to visit). But I’m also not sure how it would help advance their careers. We live in a world where some punk kid skyping in his bedroom in Duluth can become a global phenomenon. Why would anyone think that someone like LeBron needs a bigger stage to achieve his goal of world domination? Hell, he’s already there. Might as well stick it out in Akron, where livin’ is easy and people pretty much leave you alone. And besides, it’s easier to find a qualified contractor who can maintain a home that’s the size of a shopping mall.

The Tribe? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over seeing them lose the ’97 Series – in extra innings of Game 7, no less – to this Frankenstein creation of a team from Florida. A team with absolutely no tradition. A team that was systematically dismantled the next year by its owner, like he dumped off a bunch of cats on someone’s farm after they killed all the rodents in his house. I was devastated. But I have to admit, I thought of this next song when I was sitting in a beach house in Captiva, watching Game 1 on TV with the snow falling in Cleveland… Muddy Waters

With Roethlisberger, I could take the easy way out and simply play “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” but there has to be a more appropriate song… one with a lot of big, dumb swagger – preferably by a band with a strong connection to the Deep South. Yeah, I got it right here. Just imagine this tune being reworked by that big-voiced blonde chick from American Idol. Whatever the hell her name is… Lynyrd Skynyrd

I can come up with a whole slew of songs about economic hardship. How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live, Money Honey, Depression Blues, All My Money Gone, Sidewalks of Chicago, Hard Times Killing Floor Blues… But I get tired of all that bitching about not having two nickels to rub together. In these times of short-selling scam artists and massive ponzi schemes, I want songs of retribution. I want to know that, even though my ill-conceived investments have tanked, some former Wall Street wunderkind is getting passed around federal prison like a joint at a jam-band concert. Time for a sermon from Rev. Scott H. Biram… Scott H. Biram

Then there’s “Treme,” which I already complained about a few posts ago. Fact is, even a half-baked show with great music is better than anything involving real (incredibly annoying) housewives or snotty rich kids from California.

So I’ll try to end on a more hopeful note. Here’s hoping that the Cavs rise from the ashes and the Indians rise above .500 and the South Rises Again and my bank account… well, you get the picture. But when everything seems to be swirling down the drain, the best way to lift my spirits is to play me some funky brass-band music – straight from a city that makes sports heartbreak seem trivial. Funky Liza/New Orleans Nightcrawlers

Everyone’s an expert… Dan and Pat of The Black Keys weigh in on LeBron and the miseries of Cleveland sports (starting at 1:25). Excuse the commercial at the beginning:

We now have nearly 40 posts completed and properly filed with the internet authorities. Not what you’d call a highly prolific output. But as my sister pointed out, what I lack in frequency I make up for in long-windedness. Someone else told me I should write shorter posts and publish more often. I sent him a 10-paragraph email – with readership stats broken out in several tables – explaining why I disagree. For some reason, I never heard back from him.

Anyway, it seemed like a good opportunity for the RCR team to rummage through the old mail bag and find out what’s on our readers’ minds. Not that we plan on using that information to do anything different. I just couldn’t come up with a coherent theme this week.

I was a little disappointed in the response to “Truck Driver’s Boogie” – until I heard from Rob, who directed me toward one Scott H. (Hiram) Biram. I guess I’d describe his stuff as classic cowpunk and gutbucket blues, and I especially enjoyed this little item from Biram’s myspace page:

“Scott H. Biram won’t die. On May 11th, 2003, one month after being hit head-on by an 18-wheeler at 75 MPH, he took the stage at The Continental Club in Austin, TX in a wheel chair – I.V. still dangling from his arm. With 2 broken legs, a broken foot, a broken arm and 1 foot less of his lower intestine, Biram unleashed his trademark musical wrath…” Then it offers this promotional nugget: “When Scott H. Biram took the stage at his 2004 SXSW festival showcase right after Kris Kristofferson he was quoted as growling ‘They said that was a hard act to follow….I’m a hard act to follow motherfuckers!!’ The stunned crowd looked on.”

So obviously we’re dealing with a badass of epic proportions. Here’s musical evidence of Biram’s ornery nature (from his latest, “Something’s Wrong/Lost Forever”): Hard Time/Scott H. Biram

Lots of good comments to “There Stands the Glass,” my homage to the American drinking song. Musician and RCR contributor Kevin Swan captured the joys of the Big Three Trio’s Cigareetes, Whuskey and Wild Women: “Just add a Mason jar of sour mash, a big-boned gal in a flower dress, and sing loud.” And Bruce from Australia recommends that we down a pint of Woody Guthrie’s Rye Whiskey.

But Brother Jack convinced me I’d overlooked a true classic, One For My Baby (And One More For The Road), from the songwriting team of Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer. The tune was first performed by Fred Astaire in 1943 in the musical “The Sky’s The Limit” – then made popular four years later by a far more appropriate interpreter, Frank Sinatra. Over the years, it’s been covered by artists ranging from Lou Rawls and Lena Horne to Willie Nelson and Iggy Pop, and Bette Midler famously serenaded Johnny Carson with it on his last night as host of “The Tonight Show.” But I don’t think anyone plumbed the depths of this tune as effectively as Billie Holiday, who certainly drew from a deep well of experience… One For My Baby (And One More For The Road)/Billie Holiday

Don’t be surprised to see a future post titled “There Stands Another Glass.”

Dickey Betts, 1972

My love letter to Milledgeville, GA (“Georgia On My Mind”) received the most comments to date. Nephew Dan of The Black Keys has warm memories of our family’s log cabin in the piney woods – “i remember playing in that log cabin as a kid… i’ve driven through georgia what seems like a million times on tour and thought about stopping by but never have.” I mainly recall scaring the kids when I threw a chair across the room after losing my third-straight pot in poker. Fellow blogger The Hound shared one of Southern Rock’s great ironies: “I love that Dickey Betts was booted from the Allmans for taking too many drugs. Think about that. That must have been an incredible amount of dope to get chucked out of that band.” Old friend J.T. savored the time he spent at the cabin, when he almost died in Longino’s Jeep and then got poison oak everywhere, “even my schween.” And college buddy Art Rock (I prefer the more quotidian alias, admin) remembered waking up to Valerie Carter singing Ooh Child and bacon sizzling on the stove. I’ll throw in another cabin favorite, an acoustic duet with Betts and Duane Allman that Leo Kottke called “the most perfect guitar song ever written”: Little Martha/Duane Allman and Dickey Betts

A few of you played along to “Great Moments in Modern Music.” Christian from Albuquerque loves the trumpet work in the “Chinatown” soundtrack as well as the last section of John Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme” (Psalm). Kevin came back with a vote for Louis Armstrong’s “Big Butter and Egg Man” – a saucy duet with May Alix. Keena and her ganja-inspired friends couldn’t get enough of an odd “bip” that somehow found its way into Warren Zevon’s vocal fills in Werewolves of London. But we’ll give the RCR Ribbon of Achievement to Joscha from Germany, who threw out two big winners – the MC5’s I Want You Right Now (Joscha’s favorite moment is at 2:13, “where they take it down, creating tension, ready to explode back in the full blast main riff”) and Aretha Franklin’s It Ain’t Fair, which brings back the tasty guitar of Duane Allman along with sax great King Curtis… It Ain’t Fair/Aretha Franklin with Duane Allman and King Curtis

I’ll leave you with a couple of unqualified recommendations from the RCR Nation…

First, if you share my obvious enthusiasm for Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings (“Rare Soul + Funk, Pt. 1”), you’ll want to check out her latest platter – yes, it’s available on vinyl – “I Learned the Hard Way.” Here’s a little taste… Better Things/Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings

Second, The Black Keys’ new release, “Brothers,” drops on Tuesday, May 18. Obviously, I can’t be objective about these guys, but I think this is the one they’ve wanted to make ever since they first hung a mic over a water pipe in Pat’s basement. It’s definitely their best-sounding disc… fat, heavy grooves with lots of trunk-rattling bass – something you probably wouldn’t expect if you’re partial to “The Big Come Up” and “Thickfreakness.” Most of “Brothers” was recorded at the legendary Muscle Shoals Sound Studio – former home of the crack session team that laid down Aretha’s It Ain’t Fair. And although the Keys are far from bound by tradition, you can still hear the ghosts of Eddie Hinton and other masters of deep southern soul who never got their due.

Make no mistake, Dan and Pat are Rubber City guys at heart, as you can tell by this next tune. It was recorded during the “Brothers” sessions but won’t appear on the CD release (it’s now available as a free download on the band’s website if you register). Ohio/The Black Keys

Catch the Keys on tour this summer… get the full list of dates here. And test-drive “Brothers” right now at NPR.

These just in from Dan… A hotel-room video of Dickey Betts playing with “Dangerous” Dan Toler and a Greg Allman solo performance – both from a documentary called “Brothers of the Road” (1982) – and Duane Allman from 1970. “Dickey Betts is really underrated,” Dan says. “I love those double-stop country things he always adds. His signature, I guess. And the footage of Duane is something I’ve never seen. Modern jam bands just don’t get it.” Amen, brother.

This article was first published as “Guilty Pleasures” on Blogcritics.org.

It’s all in the ear of the beholder, isn’t it? For a blues hound, a guilty pleasure might be ZZ Top. For a soccer mom, maybe it’s 50 Cent or Kanye West. If you’re a fan of New Orleans music, it might be a tune that Steve Zahn wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot Mardi Gras scepter (more on that later).

For me, it’s really quite simple… Given that some of my friends and family members are a little nutty about American roots music, it’s usually anything that would make these music snobs recoil in horror if I admitted that I own it, much less listen to it.

In the movie “Office Space,” a computer-programming Michael Bolton calls his more famous namesake an “ass-clown” – then tries to ingratiate himself with a couple of soulless consultants (the two Bobs) when he tells them that the other Bolton is “pretty good.” In one of the movie’s best moments, the first Bob then confesses, “I celebrate his entire catalog.” So basically, a guilty pleasure is like admitting you’re a bit of a Bob, or even worse.

Recently, I connected with an old friend from college (check him out here). We quickly shared notes on stuff we’ve been listening to – turns out both of us are addicted to Sixties jazz – then we started talking about albums we couldn’t do without back in the Seventies. It got even better when we compared our expansive playlists of songs from the era.

Both of us listed the obvious culprits – the Rolling Stones, Taj Mahal, Joni Mitchell, the Allman Brothers Band, the J. Geils Band, Bob Marley, Little Feat… then things started to get a little more debatable, with forays into blooze-rock limbo (Humble Pie, Foghat, Savoy Brown), prog-rock purgatory (Yes, Genesis, the Moody Blues), and glam-rock hell (David Bowie, Mott the Hoople, Roxy Music). Now I enjoyed listening to the latter dreck back in the day, just like any other self-respecting stoner. But it’s hard to slap on the Pie’s “Rockin’ the Fillmore” or Yes’ “Fragile” today without a healthy dose of ironic detachment – the old wink-nod, as they say. And god help the ass-clown who whips out “The Best of Bread.”

Most of my guilty pleasures probably fall more into the category of cocktail music, and I can probably blame college life for this too. Back when I was struggling to graduate from Ohio University (see post on “Guns, Drugs, Money and Vinyl…”), I fell in with a few misanthropes who had lost the will to rock – probably the result of spending countless hours during our teen years in front of huge banks of PA speakers, head-banging to the Pie. We were searching for more sedentary pleasures involving smoking jackets and cocktail dresses (from Goodwill, of course), mixing high-balls in front of the hi-fi, and slow-grooving to Frank and Dino.

Yeah, I know… it’s a tired cliché. But it worked for us at the time. And we somehow convinced ourselves that we weren’t turning into our parents, mainly by throwing a few contemporary artists into the mix. The clear favorite? Robert Palmer… blue-eyed soulman Robert Palmer, that is – not the guy who hit the jackpot on MTV with his backup band of supermodels. (About 20-some years ago, one’s preference regarding the two Palmers seemed like something worth arguing about… today, not so much.)

Anyway, Palmer put out a few albums in the Seventies that seemed to us like unabashed love letters to the cocktail culture – particularly “Pressure Drop” and “Double Fun.” Since then, I’ve discovered the obvious pleasures of reggae legend Toots Hibbert, which makes it even more difficult to listen to Palmer’s cover of the Maytals’ Pressure Drop. But some of the stuff on these records holds up surprisingly well, in an earnest, pseudo-soul kind of way. Just don’t toss out any Marvin Gaye to make room for it on your CD shelf.

As I grew older, I abandoned any pretense of being “relevant” and started celebrating the catalogs of other artists from the original cocktail set. And I’ll thank the movie “Big Night” for giving me a greater appreciation of Louis Prima (a New Orleans native) and his sultry sidekick, Keely Smith. The movie is really an extended riff on “Waiting for Louis.” In short, a hapless entrepreneur and his brother, a master Italian chef, bet that their fortunes will change when Prima pays a visit to their struggling restaurant (he never shows up, but the party goes on without him). It’s also a commentary on the age-old divide between elitists and “philistines,” as the chef – wonderfully played by Tony Shahloub – likes to call diners who don’t appreciate his carefully prepared seafood risotto.

I certainly was familiar with Louis Prima before I saw the movie. You had to be if you spent any amount of time in Akron’s North Hill or Cleveland’s Little Italy neighborhoods. But I used to think of him more as a jokey purveyor of novelty songs (Just a Gigolo, Angelina/Zooma Zooma), as opposed to a real player, with a first-rate band run by fellow Crescent City badass Sam Butera… Oh Marie/Louis Prima with Sam Butera

Louis Prima and snobbery – cultural, musical, culinary, you name it – are just two of many topics covered on “Treme,” HBO’s new series about post-Katrina New Orleans. I’m getting a little tired of the show’s constant trashing of tourists, the very people who help keep the city afloat. And I’m still hoping to find one character I actually like. But the music alone makes “Treme” worth watching. In one episode, an especially annoying DJ portrayed by Steve Zahn refuses to play any of the old warhorses – like Iko Iko or Walkin’ to New Orleans – during a fundraiser for his radio station (you’d be hard-pressed to find more self-righteous blowhards in one program). Instead, he sits back and savors the joys of a less-obvious choice, Prima’s Buena Sera: Buena Sera/Louis Prima

A nice moment, musically speaking – but not exactly what I’d call “sticking it to the man.”

There’s really no moral to my story, other than this: With a little time and the right context, one man’s garbage can turn into the same man’s gold. Or vice versa. And if you visit New Orleans, don’t be afraid to request Iko Iko.

At the risk of losing my mail-order degree in ethnomusicology (and your attention), I’ll leave you with a few more of my guilty pleasures:

• “Reggae Pulse 2 Hit Songs – Jamaican Style”: Reggae versions of Motown and soul hits like Just My Imagination, Ain’t No Sunshine and Papa Was A Rolling Stone… Beats the polka covers.
• Dolly Parton – Jolene: Honky-funk? Jolene
• Ramsey Lewis Trio – The “In” Crowd: It’s a real toe-tapper, daddy-o! The “In” Crowd
• Shakira: You had me at hola.
• Junior Brown – Venom Wearin’ Denim: Sometimes the name of the song is all you need.
• Dazz Band – Let It Whip: The Bucket Shop was Akron’s ultimate den of iniquity. When this song started playing at glass-shattering volume, you’d just blown right past the point of no return. Let It Whip
• Lou Reed – “New Sensations”: I’d never admit it to cousin Robert, who left Reed right before this album was recorded, but I’ve always had a soft spot for I Love You, Suzanne.
• Greg Allman – “Laid Back”: The Voice of Southern Rock croons over big, orchestral arrangements. This album was big in Milledgeville GA back in ’73… Maybe the locals had it right all along. Multi-Colored Lady
• Chris Isaak: because he steals from the right sources.
• Mahavishnu Orchestra – The Dance of Maya: Head-banging for nerds, in a time signature I couldn’t even begin to identify (a waltz, maybe?). The Dance of Maya
• Robert Gordon: Reheated rockabilly… But when your guitar players are Link Wray and Danny Gatton, who cares?

What are some of yours? If you prefer to send them anonymously, don’t worry… I’ll only share your true identity with a few friends and family members.

Another big, sprawling topic – more than one post can handle. And another cheap excuse to share a few of my favorite examples of the form.

But what is jump blues, exactly? Some would describe it as post-Thirties (mostly post-war, with a few major exceptions), pre-rock ‘n roll, small-combo, primarily horn-driven R&B… true, honest-to-god rhythm and blues, that is, as opposed to what you might call a more contemporary urban act like Boys II Men or even John Legend. And the undisputed king of jump blues is the great Louis Jordan.

Jordan was a huge influence on blues giants like B.B. King, Muddy Waters and Little Walter. In fact, Walter credited his tone and attack to spending countless hours trying to play harmonica just like Jordan played alto sax. Which makes sense, because Walter transcended his peers with a hard-driving yet melodic sound – basically the same approach that Jordan used on a long list of hits that directly preceded the golden years of Chess Records.

Jordan’s best tunes serve as the most obvious examples of what makes jump blues – done right – such a beautiful thing: great musicianship, rockin’ rhythms and plenty of attitude, all cooked up in a spicy stew of jazz and blues – and, on this number, even a little taste of the Caribbean… Run Joe/Louis Jordan

If you don’t have any Louis in your life, my deepest sympathies. I’ll direct you immediately to a huge but affordable collection of his recordings on Decca from 1938 to 1950: Louis Jordan and His Tympany Five (on the JSP label). You might say, “I don’t want to spend $29 for five discs of Jordan in his prime,” and I’d agree, but only if you decide to buy the entire collection of 131 songs on amazon’s mp3 store for the ridiculous price of $8.99. I know, it seems almost criminal, but it’s legit. We’re talking essential stuff like Caldonia, Five Guys Named Moe, Choo Choo Ch’Boogie, Let The Good Times Roll, Blue Light Boogie, and duets with Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Bing Crosby. If there’s such a thing as a Great American Songbook, many of these tunes would be in it – and you’ll find very few duds in the mix. I’m starting to sound like a late-night TV pitchman.

Some even would argue that Jordan was the original rapper. I’ll let you decide by listening to this number 5 R&B hit from 1948: Pettin’ and Pokin’/Louis Jordan

Anyway, that’s my amazon sales pitch for the week (but I’ll also mention that JSP offers excellent box sets featuring Charlie Parker, Django Reinhardt, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown and essential country blues artists like Son House and Skip James… you can find them here).

Now that we have Jordan covered, let’s look at a few other gems in the jump blues canon.

Roots of rock 'n roll: Big Jay McNeely

But first, a cautionary message. Seems this genre in particular has been hard-hit by the economic downturn (ironic, given that many small R&B combos were formed as economical alternatives to big bands). In other words, stuff that was readily available a few years ago is especially hard to find today, because record stores are disappearing and iTunes needs all that bandwidth for Grizzly Bear and Lady Ga Ga. So good luck finding Tiny Bradshaw – and I apologize in advance for sharing any songs that are long out of print.

Back to the goods. Generally, you don’t listen to jump blues for the lyrics, especially if you’re turned off by the occasional ode to misogyny (Shut Your Big Mouth or Upside Your Head, anyone?). But it’s important to point out that jump blues gave rise to a lot of great women singers and instrumentalists – Dinah Washington, Ella Johnson, Little Esther Phillips, Helen Hume – and big-time piano pounders like Camille Howard and Julia Lee (who were solid singers too). Here’s Camille radiatin’ the 88s with one of the era’s most popular jump blues band leaders, Roy Milton… Milton’s Boogie/Roy Milton with Camille Howard

I thought about including this next one on our “Great Moments in Modern Music” post. Next to Jordan, my favorite jump blues artist is probably Buddy Johnson, also known as the “King of the One-Nighters” (he played thousands of gigs over a 20-year period throughout the South). His specialty was dance music, and more than a few of his signature songs featured his younger sister Ella on vocals. Listen to how Ella’s coy come-on is answered by a powerful blast from Buddy’s road-tested horn section. Crank it up! That’s How I Feel About You/Buddy and Ella Johnson

You can find a lot of great instrumentals in jump blues – Flamingo by Earl Bostic, Honky Tonk by Bill Doggett, Cole Slaw by Frank Culley, Walk ‘Em by Buddy Johnson… But this next one by barrelhouse piano player Sammy Price is hard to top. It features the dangerous guitar of long-time New York session man Mickey Baker and the soulful sax of the one and only King Curtis. Price also played in a lot of sessions in New York, primarily as house pianist for Decca records. But his recordings with Baker and Curtis sound almost live – like someone threw out a few basic riffs and they took off with the tape running. Recorded in ’56, Rib Joint combines a rock ‘n roll attitude with Price’s deep roots in Texas blues and boogie-woogie (he cut his first record in Dallas in ’29)… Pick up the song on iTunes for 99 cents, or buy the whole album on amazon for $100: Rib Joint/Sammy Price with Mickey Baker and King Curtis

Even a giant of jazz like Dizzy Gillespie couldn’t resist the joys of jump blues. Maybe he wanted to move beyond the tired conventions of be-bop, or maybe he was just selling out. I’m guessing the latter is closer to the truth – he’d just started his own label (Dee Gee) when he recorded School Days in ’51. And, since he always had his ear to the rail, Dizzy probably knew that R&B 45s were very popular among urban blacks and easy to find in barroom jukeboxes. Louis Jordan scored an R&B hit with this number just the year before, so Dizzy certainly didn’t break any new ground here. But if you were putting together a jump blues combo, wouldn’t you want the world’s greatest trumpet player in your band? Vocals by Joe Carroll. And, like I said earlier, you’re not here for the lyrics. School Days/Dizzy Gillespie

Brother James, who has a hot little swing band in St. Augustine called the House Cats, turned me on to Julia Lee. James covers her tune Lotus Blossom, which was first recorded as the less-than-subtle Marijuana. But subtlety wasn’t one of Lee’s strong suits – she also recorded a fair amount of risque rhythm & blues, like My Man Stands Out (yes, we’re talking slack size) and I’ve Got A Crush On The Fuller Brush Man. Novelty tunes aside, Lee could flat-out play the piano. In fact, she honed her chops in the clubs of Kansas City, where you didn’t even show up unless you could hang with the likes of Bennie Moten or Jay McShann. The German Bear Family label paid tribute to Lee with a five-CD set called ”Kansas City Star”… Great stuff, but you can probably live with far less. Here’s a taste… If It’s Good/Julia Lee

This is the third time Wynonie Harris has shown up in one of our posts (also check out “King of the Independents” and “There Stands the Glass”), so obviously we have our collective finger on the pulse of popular culture. That, and we’re convinced Wynonie is highly underrated. Like Big Joe Turner and Roy Brown, Harris was an unreconstructed blues shouter. But I’ve always been partial to the power and grit in Harris’ voice, which comes across like the human equivalent of an overdriven tube amp. Here’s one of my favorite Wynonie tunes, recorded in 1953 at Cincinnati’s King Studios. It’s from “Battle of the Blues,” a compilation that pits Harris against Brown in an imagined juke-joint cutting contest. Wynonie wins in a knockout. Bring It Back/Wynonie Harris

Here’s another tune recorded at King. It features The 5 Royales, a group from North Carolina that combined a strong gospel influence with driving R&B rhythms and the gutbucket guitar of Lowman Pauling, who was a big influence on a young Steve Cropper. Their tunes were covered by James Brown (Think), Ray Charles (Tell The Truth) and the Shirelles (Dedicated To The One I Love, which also was covered by the Mamas and the Papas). Think was recorded in ’57, but I consider it part of a direct line that leads from Louis Jordan right into the rock ‘n roll era. Although they never got the recognition they deserved, The 5 Royales have one of the richest and most satisfying catalogs in R&B. American roots music at its very best. Think/The 5 Royales

Louis Jordan on Video… Surprisingly, quite a few available on youtube. Some of these clips were filmed by William Forest Crouch, who directed a short musical about Jordan called “Caldonia” as well as a number of three-minute “soundies.” Here’s one for Buzz Me Baby, from 1945: