Couldn’t write much this week. Too busy taking side bets on my March Madness brackets.
When you know as little as I do about college basketball, you have to be fairly resourceful in filling out your brackets. I follow a simple rule: borrow heavily from an expert (in my case, President Obama) while making a few exceptions based on emotion. Last year, I picked my lowly alma mater, Ohio University, to win in the first round. And when the 14th-seeded Bobcats did, people thought I was a basketball genius… that is, until the second round, when all my other emotional favorites tanked. This year, I relied a bit more on the President’s picks. But I think he was slightly distracted by global issues of a non-basketball nature. Next year, I’ll use a more sophisticated approach – a system that ranks the teams based on total merchandising revenue divided by annual recruiting violations.
In the meantime, let’s check out a few vintage videos that our research team has deemed blog-worthy. And in this round, it’s the men vs. the women.
Don’t you love the fact that, back in the Fifties, guys like Big Joe Turner and Bill Haley were rock stars? What are the chances of that happening today? Zero… even if Bill Haley wore assless chaps and had Autotune surgically attached to his vocal cords. Another reason to treasure this video of Big Joe struttin’ his stuff live at The Apollo, ’55. Watch it now before youtube replaces it with a clip of someone’s cat watching TV.
Some of the great Louis Jordan’s videos from the ’40s and ’50s have kind of a minstrel show vibe to them… that eyes-buggin’-out shuckin’ and jivin’ that made Miles Davis vow to never smile in front of an audience. This one is fairly reserved by Jordan standards. Looks like the director wanted to recreate a late-night, backstage jam session. Although I can’t figure out why he decided to trot out the three white chicks at the end of the song.
Here’s another one of those wonderful American Folk Blues Festival videos – this one from 1965 with Big Mama Thornton backed by the legendary Buddy Guy. I totally agree with one of the comments following the video – a sentiment that was reiterated last week on CBS Sunday Morning by the guys who wrote Hound Dog, Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller: Why would Elvis screw up something this good?
Two years later, Koko Taylor was filmed during another AFBF tour performing Wang Dang Doodle with Little Walter and Hound Dog Taylor. It’s one of only two live clips I’ve been able to find on youtube featuring Walter (we included the other one in this post). 10,000 videos of cats doing flips, but only two of the world’s greatest blues harmonica player.
Those of you who’ve stuck with us over the past year might remember a post I wrote a while back called “Tim’s Top Six.” It was a less-than-subtle attempt to prove that I pay attention to music recorded sometime after the advent of the 8-track tape.
Almost a year has gone by since that post, which gave me just enough time to come up with six more contemporary releases worthy of comment. And when I say “contemporary,” I’m referring to songs recorded and released over the last 10 or so years. What can I say? If you’re looking for urgent missives about the indie band du jour, you’ve come to the wrong place. As my cousin Robert liked to say, “if they’re not dead, I’m not interested.” I’m a little more inclusive than Rob (himself deceased) in that some of the folks I write about technically still have a pulse. But given the choice between listening to Dead Weather or dead blues guys… well, you should know by now where I’m going to land.
Somehow, I missed out on Jimbo Mathus’ previous band, the Squirrel Nut Zippers (maybe I thought they were just another retro-swing band). But his “Knockdown South” release from 2005 certainly got my attention. Mathus is the proprietor of Delta Recording Service, a vintage studio (now in Como, MS) where Elvis Costello and others have gone to try to capture the Sound of the Delta – that timeless, earthy vibe that one wouldn’t typically associate with someone like, say, Elvis Costello. Maybe Mathus should spend more time recording himself. As an unreconstructed son of the South, he sounds perfectly comfortable moving from greasy, juke-joint blues to fatback soul to honky tonk… filtered through cheap guitars and overdriven tube amps squealing for mercy. As the folks at Fat Possum Records in nearby Oxford like to say, not the same old blues crap: Crazy Bout You/Jimbo Mathus
It shouldn’t surprise you that Patty Griffin’s latest, “Downtown Church,” was recorded in an urban place of worship. But the twist here is that I came across this release through the depths of hell – also known as the new season of HBO’s gorefest, “True Blood.” At the end of a recent episode, I was startled to hear Griffin’s version of a Leiber and Stoller tune called I Smell A Rat (Big Mama Thornton ripped it to pieces back in ‘54). Maybe it’s because I’ve always thought of Griffin as a thoughtful and sensitive singer-songwriter – and believe me, there’s a healthy amount of well-mannered material on “Church,” with sympathetic backing from guitarist Buddy Miller and other first-call Nashville cats. But she throws enough soul and swagger into Rat to make me wonder where that voice has been all this time. All I can say is, give me some more… I Smell a Rat/Patty Griffin
Alternative country icon Steve Earle has been very prolific since he emerged from the slammer clean and sober back in ‘94. And prolificacy (much like profligacy) ain’t necessarily a good thing. You can find a fair amount of duds on his recent albums, but let’s at least give him credit for taking the same “throw enough shit against the wall” approach that Phil Collins famously copped to back in his hit-making days – and, creatively speaking, coming up with far better results. Let’s also praise Earle for trying to turn the mandolin into a bona fide rock ‘n roll instrument. I’m sure you recall the hard-driving acoustic riff that opened Earle’s sole hit, Copperhead Road. Pretty cool, but I prefer Harlan Man from “Just an American Boy,” an audio journal (also documented on film) of live performances back in 2002. “I got me two good hands, and as long as I’m able I won’t give in… ‘cause I’m a Harlan Man, a coal-minin’ mother ‘til the day I’m dead.” When it comes to people and mountains, no one writes ‘em like Steve Earle. Harlan Man/Steve Earle
Precious Bryant is the kind of blues artist we need right now. Not some Stevie Ray wannabe trying to shred his way onto the next version of Guitar Hero. Precious plays simple, stripped-down songs, often only accompanied by the soothing sound of her Piedmont-style guitar playing. Songs like Don’t Let The Devil Ride, Morning Train and The Truth. And whether they come from her own pen or “anonymous,” they all sound deeply rooted in southern traditions that modern-day carpetbaggers just can’t kill. Precious hails from Talbot County, Georgia – about 90 miles due west of my mom’s former homestead in Milledgeville… maybe that’s why these gentle blues and gospel songs sound so familiar to me. But her 2005 release – named after her wonderful original, The Truth – adds just enough gutbucket rhythm to rescue it from the realm of ethnomusicology. For that, we can thank the Atlanta-based label Terminus Records, home to the same kind of roots music zealots who are keeping the form alive at Fat Possum. Don’t Jump My Pony/Precious Bryant
British soul crooner and ace guitarist James Hunter caused quite a stir when he released “People Gonna Talk” back in 2006. It seemed to arrive fully formed from some distant land where Sam Cooke somehow emerged alive from the Hacienda Motel and went on to record the album he always wanted to make. You can argue whether “People” is a little too much of a loving tribute… and I have to admit that Hunter’s follow-up, “The Hard Way,” had a little of that “whipping a dead horse” feel (OK, maybe a newly deceased stallion). But I can’t get enough of the originals that Hunter recorded in 2005 at Toe Rag Studios in London, with producer/proprietor/analog wizard Liam Watson at the helm. Hunter spent several years as Van Morrison’s guitarist. I haven’t heard any recent recording by Van the Man that can match the blue-eyed soul that Hunter lays down here (starts in with the guitar solo – one of my all-time favorites)… All Through Cryin’/James Hunter
I’m going back a little further than I want to on this last one – 1998, to be precise. But I completely lock into this tune every time I hear it. Crazyhorse Mongoose was the title song on the second album released by New Orleans-based jazz-funk outfit Galactic. The band’s main weapon is the mighty Stanton Moore on drums. And if you’re partial to Galactic’s herb-influenced, jam-band voodoo, you might want to check out some of the fine, funky stuff Moore’s released under his own name and with other configurations like Garage a Trois (with the amazing 8-string guitarist Charlie Hunter). I’m a little indifferent to some of Galactic’s material, but Crazyhorse sounds to me like a long-lost Blue Note classic. Written by sax player Ben Ellman and bassist Robert Mercurio, it moves seamlessly from one irresistible riff to another. Think Horace Silver jacked up on Red Bull, and maybe a little herb. Crazyhorse Mongoose/Galactic
Precious Bryant on video – probably somewhere in Georgia’s Lower Chattahoochee Valley, playing a tune originally recorded as Me and My Chauffeur Blues by Memphis Minnie in 1941…
The cover song is a proud musical tradition – and it dates back centuries. Let’s face it, many popular tunes and entire forms of music wouldn’t exist today without the act of appropriating someone else’s song.
Guitar hero Richard Thompson made this point in spades several years ago when he released a set of live recordings on his own boutique label that he only half-jokingly titled “1000 Years of Popular Music.” The CD kicks off with a 13th Century “round” and eventually gets around to covering Oops!… I Did It Again by Britney Spears.
The cover song seemed to reach its peak, at least in terms of significance, in the 1940s and ‘50s. At that time, songs recorded by black R&B and blues artists were typically segregated onto so-called “race” labels – Modern, Aladdin, Savoy, etc. But some of those artists started covering songs by white honky tonkers – for example, Bull Moose Jackson’s Why Don’t You Haul Off and Love Me, a cover of a 1949 country hit by harmonica player Wayne Raney – and aspiring white rockers began perfecting their own form of musical thievery.
Of course, this whole cross-pollinating thing led to what may be the defining moment in 20th Century music – Elvis Presley’s cover of a little ditty by Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup, That’s All Right Mama.
For the most part, the covers by white artists pale in comparison to the originals, but there are a few exceptions. Here’s the original version of The Train Kept A-Rollin’, by jump-blues bandleader Tiny Bradshaw: The Train Kept A-Rollin’ (Tiny Bradshaw)
I’d argue that the Trio kicked it up a notch or two, fueled by Johnny’s well-placed screams and Paul Burlison’s gut-bucket guitar. And I won’t even bother with the far more popular version by Aerosmith, which ranks a distant fourth in my book (a Columbus bar band came in third).
Quick aside about those screams: Apparently, Burlison liked to place his lit cigarette on the loose end of one of the strings sticking out from the head of his guitar. Band is tearing it up onstage… Johnny backs into the lit cigarette… screams bloody murder… crowd goes wild… rest is rockabilly history.
There are far more examples of definitive originals by black artists. If you’re only familiar with Elvis’ cover of Hound Dog, brace yourself… the original by Big Mama Thornton will make you forget all about The King’s version: Hound Dog
A mutant offspring of the cover is the “answer song,” which also peaked around the same time. It’s a fairly simple concept, and I’ll let this response to Big Mama’s Hound Dog speak for itself… Bear Cat
You get the idea… The accuser is Rufus Thomas, who was a mainstay on Memphis’ fabled Stax-Volt label throughout its glory years. Here’s another answer song from the label’s catalog, with Jeanne & the Darlings take on Sam & Dave… Soul Girl
The Rolling Stones started out as little more than a decent cover band, doing their own versions of Chicago blues standards. Here they put their stamp on a classic by Muddy Waters… I Just Want To Make Love To You
The Beatles also cranked out more than a few covers, including a version of this original by soul singer Arthur Alexander, who was one of John Lennon’s favorites (he reportedly had a jukebox that only played Alexander’s 45s)… Anna (Go To Him)
Alexander also was covered by the Stones (You Better Move On) and spent years in obscurity before he was rediscovered in Cleveland, driving a school bus. He put out a strong comeback album – “Lonely Just Like Me” – before passing away in 1993.
Today, it seems like indie rockers, hip-hoppers and country hit-makers are lined up to pay tribute to anyone from Marvin Gaye to the Grateful Dead. But much of those tribute songs are totally unnecessary and only serve to send the listeners back to the originals. A few rise above the fray, like Bob Dylan’s cover of a Hank Williams tune from the 2002 Grammy-winning tribute, “Timeless.” Now I’ll just come out and admit that I’m not a big fan of Dylan’s recent vocal stylings (he makes Billie Holiday’s final performances sound too polished). But I like how he wheezes his way through this one (great phrasing) as his ace band drags Hank into a west Texas dance hall… I Can’t Get You Off Of My Mind
During the summer months, you can’t miss the steady parade of tribute bands coming to an ampitheater near you – covering well-worn songs by the Beatles, the Stones, the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac… even U2 and the Dave Matthews Band. These bands take boomers back to days when they could get a contact high at most rock concerts (although that tradition seems to live on at jam-band shows).
But that’s not quite the same as musicians trying to reinvent the songs they love… and maybe even create something a little better (or at least different) in the process.
Oh, and if you’re still wondering what Richard Thompson did with Britney Spears… Oops!… I Did It Again
A few favorite covers…
Actually, just picking the right song to cover is a creative process that can say a lot about a band or musician. Here are a few covers that head off in different directions from the originals.
Let’s start with the oldest – Milk Cow Blues. Kokomo Arnold recorded the original back in 1930, and it’s one of those tunes that country musicians pounced on right away, probably because of the lyrics. It’s been covered by many artists – Robert Johnson (as Milkcow’s Calf Blues), Elvis at Sun Studios (as Milkcow Blues Boogie), Willie Nelson, Ricky Nelson, the band Nelson (strike that last one)… but my favorite is a western swing version from 1941 by Johnnie Lee Wills, brother of Texas legend Bob. Back then, it was a much shorter walk from blues to country, and Wills’ singer barely takes a step. He’s Cotton Thompson, a long-forgotten fiddle player (the world’s first blue-eyed soul singer?). Kokomo’s original comes first, then the cover.Milk Cow Blues (Kokomo Arnold/Johnnie Lee Wills)
The title of Young Man’s Blues is a little misleading, because neither of the following two versions falls neatly into the blues category. The originator is Mose Allison, really a jazz guy who played a lot of blues-based songs, and a keen observer of the human condition. The imitator is The Who, from the 1970 album Live at Leeds. Now I’m not a huge fan of everything The Who put out, but I like how they reworked the original – transforming it from a laid-back lament into a defiant rocker… Roger Daltrey is one pissed-off young man!Young Man’s Blues (Mose Allison/The Who)
Johnny Cash has been covered by hundreds of musicians of every stripe – roots-rockers, hillbillies, punks, metalheads… And roots-music explorer Ry Cooder has made an entire career out of reinventing other people’s songs. This next one is the flip side of The Who’s approach – Cooder takes Cash’s signature “Tennessee Three” treatment and slows it down… and in the process, turns it into something far more ominous (we’re not quite sure where this train is heading). I especially like the instrumentation on this cover – just mandolin, piano (the late Jim Dickinson, a Memphis icon) and upright bass.Hey Porter (Johnny Cash/Ry Cooder)
If their recent reissues proved anything, the Beatles are an even bigger draw today than they were back in 1964. But their songs haven’t been covered by other artists as much as you might think. Could be that the Beatles catalog is considered sacred canon by many musicians – or maybe it’s just too damn hard to improve on the originals. But that didn’t scare off The Holmes Brothers, who have developed a strong following with their unique brand of gospel-infused R&B. This one knocks me out every time I hear it – a soulful take on an old Beatles favorite.And I Love Her (The Beatles/The Holmes Brothers)
Musicians seem to have an easier time covering Dylan… might have something to do with the demo-like quality of albums like “The Basement Tapes” with The Band, which gave us the original version of Going to Acapulco. The cover shows up 40 years later on the soundtrack to “I’m Not There” – a surreal look at various incarnations of Dylan throughout his career. I was unimpressed with most of the soundtrack, but this one stands out as the Tucson band Calexico paints a desert soundscape behind the stunning voice of Jim James (My Morning Jacket). Better than the original? You be the judge.Going to Acapulco (Bob Dylan/Jim James & Calexico)
