Rubber City Review

Here’s an album that came and went a couple of years ago, but I keep getting sucked back into its strange vortex. It answers the question, what happens when a fairly twisted French dude records a loving tribute to his favorite American musical influences?

His name is Don Cavalli, and I’m surprised his latest release, “Cryland,” didn’t get more notice (although the British rock mag Mojo ranked it #12 of their 50 best albums of 2008, noting that “Cryland” is “appealing low-fi and iTunes eclectic… 21^st century psychedelic”). If you’re looking for brilliant lyrics or multiple layers of meaning, go somewhere else. This is all about deep, swampy grooves and gutbucket guitar played through overdriven tube amps. In other words, my kind of music… River/Don Cavalli

Cavalli’s casual approach to songwriting reminds me a lot of J.J. Cale – a true master at creating an overall mood and timeless vibe that transcends the material. J.J.’s done this better than anyone for about 50 years. And he’s still bringing the goods, with the possible exception of his recent collaboration with Eric Clapton (I’m not sure if Clapton has another good album in him). Here’s the intro to one of my favorite cuts from Cale’s 2004 release, “To Tulsa and Back”: New Lover/J.J. Cale

Cavalli’s another restless explorer of vintage sounds and riffs, with the same minimalist approach to guitar playing and songwriting as J.J., but maybe a little more edge and energy. Yeah, you’ll probably think you’ve heard some of these lines before: “Moon is a-risin’, sun is sinkin’ down low, wind is a-howlin’, been down lonesome with gloom.” But it’s hard to resist sturdy little tunes like the next one, especially if you share my weakness for rough and rootsy guitar: Vitamin A/Don Cavalli

The quirk factor also is fairly high on “Cryland.” And I guarantee you’ve never come across songs quite like New Hollywood Babylon and other oddball gems by Cavalli. It’s like someone stuffed all of these American influences – blues, country, rockabilly, cajun – into a Euro/Franco processing machine and hit the random switch. It’s nice to hear those influences subverted with such “aggress-shawn,” as he sings on one tune. I guess I’m also a sucker for strangled syntax, wha-wha guitars that seem to come out of nowhere, trashcan rhythms – not to mention whacked-out numbers like this one… Wonder Chairman/Don Cavalli

Make no mistake, this guy can play. But it’s hard to find much of substance written about Cavalli. From what little I’ve found on the Web, it appears he spent a number of years playing in rockabilly bands.

With “Cryland,” he seems to be moving away from more obvious tributes to his American idols, and closer toward establishing himself as a true original. His next album lands in 2011 – hopefully we’ll be around to share some of it with you.

Talk about creating a mood… I love this stark, ethereal video for River. I’m sure it involved a small budget, but a fair amount of choreography.

Nephew Dan is a busy man – touring the world and all – but he wanted us to check out this awesome clip of Otis Rush in his prime, playing in front of a polite but reverent audience of well-dressed white folk…

After viewing this performance (and, unlike most of the audience members, regaining my composure), I had a few important questions: Had Otis and band stumbled onto the set of a TV game show? Did someone pay him to wear the white sweater? And what the hell was this all about?

Turns out this was one of several performances from the fifth year of the American Folk Blues Festival, which toured Europe almost annually from 1962 to 1972. Five additional festivals were held from 1980 to 1985, but these earlier tours were notable for two important reasons. First, they had a powerful influence on the British blues movement of the early ’60s – especially artists like Mick Jagger, Steve Winwood and Eric Clapton. And second, they provided rare opportunities to capture American blues artists like Sonny Boy Williamson, Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Skip James, Son House, Big Mama Thornton, Bukka White and many others, using some of the best studio and video equipment of the era.

For these and other reasons, we have several people to thank – including German jazz publicist Joachim-Ernst Berendt, who first came up with the idea, and promoters Horst Lippmann and Fritz Rau, who followed through on it.

This particular performance was shot at a small TV studio in Germany, October 1966. And of course, I had to find a few other clips from the same show. Here’s one with Otis and band (Fred Below on drums… not sure who’s playing bass… maybe Sunnyland Slim on piano?) backing up the great Junior Wells.

I’m sure you gearheads know what kind of mic he’s singing and playing through… I need me one of them.

It’s easy to get lost on youtube watching all of these jaw-dropping AFBF shows… I’ll just share a couple more and then tell you where to buy all this stuff on DVD. The first features blues legends Sonny Boy Williamson and Otis Spann playing a very laid-back version of Nine Below Zero. Sonny Boy is far from his peak, but his delivery is the very definition of deep blues – about as soulful as you can get…

Then we get to Howlin’ Wolf, the Taildragger… where the soul of man never dies. Smokestack Lighting – from a 1964 performance in England with Sunnyland Slim, Willie Dixon on bass and Wolf’s long-time musical foil Hubert Sumlin on guitar. The Brits seem far more excitable than the Germans… Joscha, would you like to weigh in on this?

These and many other performance are available on four volumes of DVDs from Reelin’ In The Years Productions… They’re listed below for your shopping convenience. And remember, a small fraction of each purchase goes toward ensuring I have the meds needed to write these posts at 3 a.m.

Dressed up to get messed up… Good friend and photog Rick Zaidan took this shot of Junior Wells in the mid-’80s at the former Palomino Lounge in Cleveland:

“Junior was touring with Buddy Guy,” Rick said. “We got there about four hours before the show to get a table up front. (Rick’s friend) John had my Buddy Guy Checkerboard Lounge T-shirt on, and Buddy noticed it during a sound check. Buddy came up to us and said, ‘where the hell did you get that shirt?’ I told him I ordered it from a catalog. Buddy said, ‘shit man, I’m not makin’ any money off that shirt… I’m going to have to talk to those motherfuckers.’ He was pissed but autographed the shirt anyway… At one point during the show, Buddy did the requisite walk-around solo using a 200-foot guitar cord. Most of the crowd followed Buddy outside while he soloed in the middle of Lorain Ave. Good times.”

For you photo buffs out there: Rick took the shot with an “ancient” Leica M3 rangefinder, “because it was a very quiet camera… I got some good shots but still didn’t have anything great. With my last three frames I just walked up to Junior and snapped this shot. One of my all-time favorites.”

I’m a blues hound… won’t deny it. Love the form’s many sub-genres and permutations. Hate most attempts to slap a little rouge on its cheeks and make it more presentable to the masses. You can have your Jonny Langs and Keb Mos. Give me John Lee Hooker, alone with his guitar – and please find a way to remove all those special guest artists from his final recordings.

On more than one occasion, I’ve run into a distinguished-looking gentleman wearing one of those painfully casual outfits who claims to love blues too. But he’ll offer this information in a very solemn and private way, like he’s confessing he has a family of illegal aliens living in his basement.

Fact is, he’s told me nothing… Did he just see B.B. King at the outdoor amphitheater while getting hammered on cosmos with Buffy, Bif and Lillian? Or does he like to drink bottom-shelf liquor by himself and listen to the stream-of-consciousness blues that Robert Pete Williams recorded in Angola Prison? Doesn’t make much difference to me what he likes… I just think that extra bit of information would be helpful before we continue the conversation.

As Duke Ellington pointed out, “There’s two kinds of music: good and bad.” So it goes with blues – there’s a lot to like and almost as much to avoid. And I try to judge all comers on their own merits. I don’t begrudge Robert Cray for trying to sound like the second coming of Stax-Volt. Some of his best stuff comes close enough. But don’t bring me any of Clapton’s last 20 or so releases, and if you buy me Buddy Guy’s latest for my birthday, save the gift receipt.

The real reason I stick with the form is the universe of expression within it. You’ve got your city blues and country blues… hard-driving Chicago blues and laid-back Piedmont blues… full horn sections and one guy with a mic… fife and drum bands from the Mississippi hill country… flame-throwing guitar slingers from Texas… piano pounders from New Orleans and Kansas City… shouters… crooners… howlin’ at the mooners… maybe there’s a blues song in there somewhere?

Which brings us in a very roundabout way to one of my favorite sub-genres, swamp blues. Before I came across this mutant form, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of blues. I had faithfully purchased and analyzed the Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson box sets, viewed the “Live at Newport” videos, read the books, even learned a few of the songs myself… Then Slim Harpo came along, openly mocking my earnest attempts to become a blues scholar.

At this point, it’s probably useful to ask, what is swamp blues? First, it’s a form of Louisiana music that should not be confused with the state’s other vital and distinct contributions to American music – including Dixieland, New Orleans R&B, Cajun and Zydeco. Second, it’s largely the product of a small studio in Crowley, Louisiana, where one J.D. “Jay” Miller created regional hits for the Excello label, run by Ernie Young in Nashville. In other words, another one of those haphazard cultural collisions that makes Southern roots music so damn good.

Swamp blues is what you’d expect when a self-taught producer reinvents the dominant Chicago sound in a small Louisiana town – lazy, loping rhythms, casually soulful singing, and a do-it-yourself approach to recording technology (or lack thereof). Check out this cardboard-box rhythm on a tune by Lightnin’ Slim: Mean Old Lonesome Train/Lightnin’ Slim

Many artists made the pilgrimage to Louisiana rice country to record at Miller’s Crowley studio, including a small army of curiously named bluesmen like Mr. Calhoun, Shy Guy Douglas, Whispering Smith, Guitar Gable and Boogie Jake. Miller also launched the careers of several outstanding blues women – most notably the great piano player Katie Webster, who did session work on legendary swamp blues and pop recordings like Phil Phillips’ 1959 hit, “Sea of Love.” Here’s Katie with her own take on the hit… Sea of Love/Katie Webster

But in my mind, the absolute standouts of swamp blues were Slim Harpo (whose songs were covered by the Rolling Stones and the Kinks), Lightnin’ Slim, Lazy Lester and Lonesome Sundown. As another aside, I noticed that local officials in Crowley have adopted the marketing slogan “Where Life is Rice and Easy!” Screw that… just build a massive statue of Harpo, Slim, Lester and Sundown – the “Four Horsemen of the Swamp” – and wheel it into the town square. But once again, I digress…

Let me get right to the point, by sharing with you a short list of my favorite swamp blues recordings (samples at the end for your listening pleasure):

Slim Harpo: I Got Love If You Want It. This tune seems to encompass everything that’s right and wonderful about swamp blues. I’m not sure how to describe the rhythm – it’s like the second-grade teacher gave the kids a few shakers and sticks and asked them to play a mambo. Then there’s the harp, which ain’t Little Walter but makes one hell of a statement at the opening. The acoustic-sounding guitar serves only one purpose – to move the song from I to IV to V. And Harpo’s voice brings it all together with his usual, laconic delivery. A blues masterpiece.

Lightnin’ Slim: It’s Mighty Crazy. John Hammond Jr. did a great version of this song back in ’75, but the original can’t be beat. Miller’s Cajun background must’ve led him to suggest the rub-board rhythm. Lazy Lester gives the tune its signature riff. And Slim’s gritty voice adds just enough menace to make you wonder just what he’s rubbin’ on. I think we all know it’s something other than a good scrub in the bathtub.

Lonesome Sundown: My Home is a Prison. Apparently, Miller liked the opening guitar riff to this song – it shows up on several other cuts by Lonesome Sundown (aka Cornelius Green). Sundown played guitar for Zydeco legend Clifton Chenier before joining Miller’s stable of artists in 1956. Released the following year, this tune is about as blue as blue can get… “It’s true I shot my baby, but it’s because she did me wrong. The only thing I got is this lonesome jail I call home.” Maybe Sundown was haunted by the dark muse behind this song… He eventually became a minister in the ecumenically named Lord Jesus Christ of the Apostolic Faith Fellowship Throughout the World Church.

Lazy Lester: I Hear You Knockin’. Not to be confused with the New Orleans nugget by Smiley Lewis that adds the line “but you can’t come in.” This is one of those blues songs with near-universal appeal, easily making the transition to rock and honky tonk (check out Dwight Yoakam’s version from “Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room”). Sounds like the rhythm section consists of that same cardboard box they used on Mean Old Lonesome Train. Legend has it that Lester met Lightnin’ Slim on a bus and talked his way into a recording session at the Crowley studio. We can all be thankful for that conversation.

“Rockin” Tabby Thomas: Hoodoo Party. The New Orleans influence is especially strong on this cut by Tabby Thomas, father of contemporary blues artist Chris Thomas King and former owner of Tabby’s Blues Box and Heritage Hall in Baton Rouge, LA. Great rhythm and horn part, and Tabby’s fine voice is practically swimming in Miller’s patented reverb. Louisiana blues doesn’t get any better than this – a testament to Miller’s genius in the studio.

Jerry “Boogie” McCain: She’s Tough. Jerry’s girl is so hot, she walks through campus and “professor lose his mind.” But she can’t hold a match to McCain’s blazing harp, which sounds like it could burn the whole place to the ground. McCain obviously inspired the Fabulous Thunderbirds, who included this song on their 1979 debut. And the pride of Gadsden, Alabama, is still playing the blues today. You can check him out at the city’s annual Jerry McCain Broad Street Blues Bash (now that’s how you honor a blues legend!). I Got Love If You Want It It’s Mighty Crazy My Home Is A Prison I Hear You Knockin’ Hoodoo Party She’s Tough

I’m guessing the first drinking song was written not long after the first alcoholic beverage was served. Something about draggin’ stone for the pharaoh – and my baby left me too. In other words, not that different from the drinking songs we enjoy today.

Let’s set aside for now those endless folk songs sung by British rugby teams at the corner pub. That’s a participatory sport that requires more focus than I can muster after five or six beers.

We’re talking about those perfect songs you might hear in a crappy little dive that’s dedicated to the consumption of hard liquor. Not a fern in sight, and no wine selection – unless you’re choosing between red and white. Just a couple shelves of the hard stuff, a jukebox, and a few sad sacks hiding from whatever ails them beyond those swinging doors.

A good drinking song might not bring a roomful of drunks together, arm-in-arm, singing at the top of their lungs… But it helps create a sense of community among those who usually have little in common except for unhealthy lifestyles and bad attitudes. So consider these tunes a form of group therapy – without all that messy “sharing deep, dark secrets with complete strangers” business.

As I put together a playlist of my favorite drinking songs, it became clear that they spring from three basic genres of music – honky tonk, rhythm and blues (circa ‘40s and ‘50s) and blues. Once again, I’m giving short shrift to the Brits, and the Irish too… but when it comes to drinking songs, I’m no different from the average schmoe at the Dew Drop Inn – I don’t like to roam too far from home.

What constitutes a great drinking song? It’s really quite simple. First, it helps to reference alcohol consumption in the title or main chorus of the song. Remember, this is not a subtle form of music – these songs are written for people whose cognitive functions often resemble those of small children (or large ash trays). Second, these songs should convey an overall sense of hopelessness…Think “if drinkin’ don’t kill me, her memory will,” or “what’s the use of getting sober,” or even worse, “tonight the bartender’s on the wrong side of the bar.” Most people don’t drink by themselves just to kill time (then again, maybe that’s the whole point). Third, the music itself should be oddly uplifting, in stark yet effective contrast to the hopeless lyrics. After all, if these songs were sung as dark, minor-chord dirges, you’d just blow your brains out then and there… and who would pay your tab?

With these essential guidelines in mind, the management team and our “subordinassociates” at Rubber City Review are proud to offer you this thoughtfully compiled 12-pack of our favorite drinking songs – based on years of exhaustive, dedicated research. (This time I’ve ganged together the samples at the end of each section – creating separate 6-packs of listening pleasure, if you will.)

Jim Ed Brown: Pop a Top. This one scores high on all three of our key measures, and gets bonus points for the “pop a top” sound effect.  Brother James likes to sing it at family gatherings, which only adds to the sense of impending doom.

Amos Milburn: Let Me Go Home Whiskey. Along with being a legend of jump blues, Amos Milburn has written at least four of the world’s greatest drinking songs – Bad Bad Whiskey; One Scotch One Bourbon and One Beer (made famous by John Lee Hooker and, later, George Thorogood); Thinkin’ and Drinkin’; and Let Me Go Home Whiskey. Not sure why I’m partial to the last one… I guess it’s because the lyrics deliver a powerful one-two punch of pathos and denial – I’d come home, baby, but this booze won’t let me go! That, and the fact that the unfortunately named Asleep at the Wheel did a great cover of this tune back in 1975. Also, my sister Caroline sings it at family gatherings, after which sister Mary usually collects sharp objects and pharmaceuticals.

Loretta Lynn: Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ On Your Mind). A cautionary tale for anyone who hopes to get it on with Loretta Lynn after a night out on the town. As Cavs announcer Austin Carr likes to say after LeBron blocks a shot, “get that weak stuff outta here!”

Wynonie Harris: Don’t Take My Whiskey Away From Me. Wynonie Harris is another jump-blues giant who sang more than his share of drinking songs. This tune probably was recorded at King Studios in Cincinnati… It offers a stern warning to anyone who tries to mess with his drink (and Harris seemed like the kind of guy who would deliver on a threat).

The Kentucky Colonels (with Clarence White): Chuck-A-Lug. Consider this one a bonus from our last post. It’s tailor-made for the skewed bluegrass of the Kentucky Colonels – with a solo by Clarence White that should’ve been pulled over for reckless op.

Otis Spann: Going Down Slow. Technically, this isn’t a drinking song… but it sounds to me like St. Louis Jimmy Oden wrote it about someone whose health problems were self-inflicted. It’s been covered by artists ranging from Eric Clapton to Aretha Franklin. St. Louis Jimmy sings this one himself, with sympathetic backing from Otis Spann and Robert Lockwood Jr. (who lived and played in Cleveland for many years). Brother Jack likes to play it at family gatherings… Kill me now. Pop a Top Let Me Go Home Whiskey Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ On Your Mind) Don’t Take My Whiskey Away From Me Chug-A-Lug Going Down Slow

As they say on late-night TV, “But wait… There’s more!”

George Jones: If Drinkin’ Don’t Kill Me (Her Memory Will). With this number, we’ve covered the Holy Trinity of drinking song stylists – Milburn, Harris and George “No Show” Jones. There’s nothing quite like a George Jones drinking song… in fact, it probably merits its own genre. A friend of mine likes to point out the difference between pathos and bathos, the latter used to describe the most desperate attempts to gain someone’s pity. Based on this definition, Jones has made bathos an art form… It’s hard to resist a line like this: “With the blood from my body, I could start my own still.”

Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys: Bubbles In My Beer. Music doesn’t get much merrier than Western Swing, which makes this tune a surreal treat. I get the sense that bandleader Bob Wills isn’t too worked up about the fact that singer Tommy Duncan’s life has been a failure… Oddly enough, Duncan eventually was dumped by Wills for complaining about his boss’s drinking problem!

Ted Hawkins: There Stands the Glass. Hawkins just tears me up… partly because I know he had such a rough life. He struggled with heroin addiction and spent years in jail, but eventually was discovered playing for spare change at Venice Beach. Hawkins was able to enjoy some success and recognition late in life, but his voice always betrayed a deep sadness – especially on this number that honky-tonker Webb Pierce first recorded back in 1953.

Tammy Wynette: Your Good Girl’s Gonna Go Bad. George’s former wife knew a thing or two about living with an alcoholic… which is why she decided to take a different approach from Loretta Lynn by threatening to show up at the bar herself, ready to party. George’s worst nightmare?

Ross Johnson: Wet Bar. Of course, we know that some drinking songs, like some drinks (and drunks), are hard to categorize. This one seems like it came from Satan’s rec room – which is basically the case, because It Came From Memphis. That’s the title of a highly entertaining book by Memphis/roots-rock aficionado Robert Gordon, as well as a companion CD that plucked this twisted little number out of some deep, dark hole. Allmusic calls Ross Johnson “a maverick who’s eccentric even by the standards of this subterranean scene.” Sounds like drinking is the least of his problems.

Slim Harpo: Blues Hangover. I’ll close with a talking blues from the great Slim Harpo… Every bar in America should crank up Blues Hangover at closing time. If Drinkin’ Don’t Kill Me (Her Memory Will) Bubbles in My Beer There Stands the Glass Your Good Girl’s Gonna Go Bad Wet Bar Blues Hangover

Time to dig through the old mail bag and respond to a few comments about previous posts… Most of these comments show up on the blog, but a few others take a more direct route – either via email or in conversations with friends and family members.  And, of course, a few are better left unsaid, either because I didn’t understand them or don’t need explicit instructions on how to pound foreign objects into a certain orifice.

If reader comments are any indication, I could have posted many more Christmas favorites on “Those Chimeless Holiday Classics.”  Here’s a couple… Mark from Owensville believes I overlooked Charles Brown’s Merry Christmas Baby with the enduring line “I’m all lit up like a Christmas tree.”  And Bill from St. Augustine is partial to the Blind Boys of Alabama’s “Go Tell It On The Mountain” – one of those projects that pulled together a small army of special guests from every conceivable genre (Bill Clinton???).  I don’t have that one, but I do have a cut from the Blind Boys’ 2001 release, “Spirit of the Century”… What’s Christmas without a song written by Tom Waits?  (The nasty slide is a little gift from David Lindley.) Jesus Gonna Be Here/The Blind Boys of Alabama

The video of Free with a young Paul Rodgers – from “Superhits of the Seventies (and Pass the Sausage)” – seemed to resonate with those of you who grew up listening to that vitally important sub-genre of music known as “stoner rock.”  Dan didn’t (unless you count G Love and Special Sauce), but he prefers another Free/Rodgers video on youtube – Fire and Water…

Many comments about the Wood Brothers cut from “Loaded,” featured on “Tim’s Top Six.”  They truly are a great find and I have to give full credit to Brother James for turning me on to them.  As I mentioned in the post, I was familiar with Chris Woods’ funky bass on cuts by Medeski, Martin and Wood, but I had no idea he had some Stanley Brothers in him too.  The first Wood Brothers release might even be better than the second, if that’s possible… Here’s one of my favorite tunes from “Ways Not To Lose”: Glad/The Wood Brothers

Young Joscha from Germany thought the opening to Storm Warning by Dr. John had an influence on Dan’s Heartbroken, In Disrepair from his 2009 solo release, “Keep it Hid.”  I’ll let you be the judge.  Storm Warning is featured on “New Orleans Nuggets,” and here’s the video for Heartbroken – filmed near Marfa, Texas, with members of Hacienda, who hail from San Antonio… and My Morning Jacket’s Patrick Hallahan, who’s a Louisville boy.

Joscha complained about my poor treatment of his beloved Led Zeppelin in “Superhits.”  But I fully admit to being under the spell of the blimp back in my high school days (hey, I’m from Akron).  By the way, I recently saw Lucinda Williams and her hot-shit band on Austin City Limits… Right in the middle of her tune Joy (from “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road”), they launched into the signature riff from Zep’s Heartbreaker.  It was freakin’ awesome!  Here’s another riff that’s been rattling around in my head for 30-some years… The Ocean/Led Zeppelin

In his comment to ”Little Walter, By the Book,” Jose mentioned that his dad turned him on to Walter by playing him Muddy Waters’ Forty Days and Forty Nights.  Here’s Walter’s scorching harp solo from that number… Forty Days & Forty Nights/Muddy Waters with Little Walter

Finally, Danny Horn liked the cuts featured on “Superhits” but wanted to hear a little more of the late Jesse Ed Davis, the guitarist with the slippery, soulful touch on Taj Mahal’s early albums.  Here’s Jesse Ed stretching out on a cut written by Garth Hudson and Robbie Robertson from The Band and featured on Taj’s 1969 release, ”Giant Step”…  Mister Davis! Bacon Fat/Taj Mahal with Jesse Ed Davis

Several posts ago (“King of the Independents”), we waxed poetic about Cincinnati’s King Records – home to legendary American artists ranging from the Stanley Brothers to James Brown.  But King wasn’t the only act in town.  Here’s part two of the story, a look back at Fraternity Records and “the Wham of that Memphis Man,” Lonnie Mack.  This post also includes a few more quotes from Shad O’Shea, a former Cincinnati record man, radio personality and raconteur who passed away in June of last year.

In the Fifties and Sixties, you had to look real hard in Cincinnati to find evidence of Fraternity Records, other than its occasional presence on the charts.  In fact, the local label probably went unnoticed by thousands of people who slept in the same building – the Sheraton Gibson (now the site of the downtown Westin Hotel).

That’s where Harry Carlson rented out a suite and did business through most of that period.  An aspiring songwriter and former big-band horn player from Nebraska, Carlson had developed relationships over the years with DJs and industry reps around the country.  From his hotel suite, he made deals with both local and national artists, and then jobbed out the actual recording to independent studios – including one in Chicago operated by another big-band veteran.  From there the master tapes were sent back to Room 105 at the Sheraton, where Carlson would listen to them and make the appropriate changes.  He would then send the tapes to a pressing plant in Indianapolis, where RCA took over distribution of the final product nationwide.  In other words, this was the antithesis of the huge King operation.

A good example of the Fraternity approach was in the off-handed way that the biggest chart hit to come out of Cincinnati was handled.  “Fraternity called me up and wanted me to go in and record a couple of songs,” said Lonnie Mack, the influential rock guitarist who lived just across the state line in southeastern Indiana.  “I went ahead and taped them and then left for a tour in Florida.  A friend drove down later and said he’d been listening to Memphis on the radio all the way down.” Memphis/Lonnie Mack

The year was 1963.  The song was an instrumental cover of the mild Chuck Berry hit.  Mack had worked it up as a fast-fingered guitar showcase while performing locally with his band, the Twilighters.  He scored again on Fraternity that same year with another hot instrumental – an original called Wham.  Here’s the unforgettable opening: Wham/Lonnie Mack

Several other Cincinnati and regional artists gained national exposure with hits on Fraternity.  Bobby Bare’s All American Boy made it to Number 1 in 1959, and Bare went on to a successful recording career in country music.  As late as 1967, the Casinos scored a big hit with Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye, recorded at King Studios.  Other acts on the Fraternity label included Jackie Shannon (later Jackie DeShannon), Jimmy Dorsey (who passed away shortly after hitting Number 1 in ’57 with So Rare), Cathy Carr (scoring in ’56 with Ivory Tower), and Dale Wright with the Rock-Its, another Cincinnati act that climbed the carts, with She’s Neat.

Here’s All American Boy, which was recorded as kind of an Elvis parody and originally attributed to Bare’s friend Bill Parsons when Fraternity mislabeled the single: All American Boy/Bobby Bare

Shad O’Shea became part of the Fraternity legend by buying the label from Harry Carlson for $25,000 back in 1975.  “You don’t buy a legend for $1.98,” he added.

A former top-rated DJ in the Sixties, O’Shea recorded a number of novelty singles on the Fraternity label under such dubious nom de plumes as Gonzales Bonaparte, Hy Bush and the Wild Cranberries, and Shad O’Shea and the McHamburger Helpers – local vanity projects that help keep the label alive until it faded away in the 1980s.  He also ran his own independent studio in the Cincinnati area and recorded artists for a number of other labels.

O’Shea felt it was his responsibility to put some life back into pop music.  “Rock and roll today is no fun,” he said back in 1982, when various hair bands were taking themselves way too seriously on the fledgling MTV network.  “It’s overproduced and too sophisticated – people just don’t get excited and stomp their feet anymore.  I’ll take those old records any day.  They were fun, invigorating, innocuous and, above all, exciting.”

The success of King and Fraternity records was directly based on that excitement, which is undeniable when you listen to the singles cut in Cincinnati by Lonnie Mack, Bobby Bare, Little Willie John, James Brown and many others.

That Memphis Man…

In ‘82, I had the good fortune of hunting down Mack at a small club just off Route 50 in Aurora, Indiana.  One door went into the bar, where some serious drinking was taking place, and the other went into the Party Room, where Mack and his band were playing to a fairly sparse crowd.  Cover charge: $1.50.

I was joined by a fellow writer who used the alias Harleigh Marlowe and lived with a stripper who worked the clubs across the river from Cincinnati in Newport, Kentucky (subject for another post?).  I’ll let Marlowe pick it up from there:

“We could see a sort of Charlie Daniels-ish figure slide quickly in place behind a mike, buckling on a dusky red Flying V guitar.  He had a big salt-and-pepper beard, an even bigger paunch, a deeply carved cowboy hat with adornments folded in, and levis and cowboy boots with real pointy toes.  Our eyes kept going back to the Flying V, though, mainly due to the authority and power in the blues runs coming out of it.  Make no mistake, that is Lonnie Mack up there, with more rock ‘n roll history in that red guitar of his than any other in the world except, of course, Chuck Berry’s.”

The locals seemed fairly disinterested until Mack launched into his hit, Memphis, which managed to get just about everyone out on the dance floor.  As Marlowe pointed out, “There is a certain respect for the great old songs, even if there is not automatic respect for the great old musicians.”

We were especially impressed with Mack’s voice – a gritty, powerful wonder.  Although we were aware of the “blue-eyed soul” songs he cut with Fraternity – tunes like Why and Satisfied – it still was a revelation hearing him sing up close and in person.  Here’s a fine vocal performance from 1963… Farther On Up The Road/Lonnie Mack

We introduced ourselves to Mack during a break and had a nice chat.  He was gracious and sincere, and seemed to appreciate the fact that we knew more than a few things about his music.  At the time, there were rumors that “personal problems” were holding up his career (we wisely chose to avoid that subject).  Mack mentioned that he’d been doing some work with Ronnie Hawkins in Canada, mostly playing oldies, and that seemed to him like a good place to start things up again.

Shortly after our visit, Mack moved to Texas and reconnected with Stevie Ray Vaughan, whose own career was beginning to take off.  Vaughan remained a strong friend and supporter throughout Mack’s comeback, which began with the 1985 release of his first album on Alligator Records, “Strike Like Lightning” (the album features a Mack-Vaughan guitar duet on a remake of Wham, re-titled Double Whammy).

You can find a surprisingly detailed and colorful look at Mack’s career on Wikipedia, of all places.  It includes an interesting account of his presence on The Doors’ “Morrison Hotel” sessions (apparently, he played some, if not all, of the guitar parts on Roadhouse Blues).  He also did a brief stint in a corporate job at Elektra Records, where he produced a gospel version of Let It Be and tried, but failed, to release it before the Beatles’ own version came out.  Mack currently lives in rural Tennessee, where he is reportedly working on a memoir.

Hope you’re doing well, Lonnie… Your Rubber City fan club (including its youngest member, Dan Auerbach) wishes you the best.

For you gear-heads out there… Lonnie Mack got that rich, swirling sound by playing his Gibson Flying V (he had the seventh one ever made) through a Magnatone amp, and using his guitar’s “whammy bar” to subtly bend a few notes for added effect.  Back in the late Fifties, Magnatone began offering the first amps with “true vibrato,” using electronic circuits to create cyclic changes in pitch.  Other amps claimed to offer vibrato but in fact could only muster a tremolo effect (cyclic changes in volume).  Then there was the Leslie speaker system (commonly used with the B3 organ) – sort of a hybrid that produced obvious changes in volume with the unit’s rotating speaker as well as a subtle vibrato through the resulting doppler effect.  That’s as far as I’m willing, or able, to take that technical discussion.

Vibrato vs. tremolo aside, Mack’s sound was truly unique – and he admits to copping it from Robert Ward, who at the time was living and gigging some 50 miles north of Cincinnati in Dayton.  A native of Georgia, Ward formed the Ohio Untouchables (who later became the Ohio Players) in 1960 – three years before Mack’s groundbreaking singles were released on Fraternity.  Ward’s amplifier of choice?  The Magnatone.  Here’s Ward backing a young Wilson Pickett in a tune recorded at Cincinnati’s King Studios in 1962…  I think it’s fairly easy to hear the strong influence that Ward had on Mack: I Found A Love/The Falcons (Wilson Pickett with Robert Ward)

Lonnie Mack on Video… Not a lot to choose from, but the opening to Stop – recorded at Carnegie Hall in 1985 – shows you how Mack worked the whammy bar on his Flying V to add a little more emphasis to his “vibrato-drenched” sound.  It also serves as ample proof of his soulful singing.  Stick with the Dickey Betts interview – Lonnie starts playing about 30 seconds in…

Rock-A-Bop… The androgynous-looking woman with the pompadour on the cover of “All American Rock ‘n’ Roll” is Sparkle Moore, better known to her family in Omaha as Barbara Morgan (a lot of aliases in this post… Mack was born Lonnie McIntosh, and Marlowe’s girlfriend used the less-than-original stage name Pussy Galore).  In case you’re wondering what Sparkle’s 1956 Fraternity single Rock-A-Bop sounds like, here it is… Not what I’d call essential rockabilly, but still entertaining: Rock-A-Bop/Sparkle Moore

In the early 1980s, I lived in Cincinnati and edited one of those free entertainment newspapers you see blowing through the streets of big cities throughout the country.  The following piece borrows heavily from an article I wrote back then about one of America’s greatest independent labels, King Records.  Its huge catalog includes seminal recordings by some of the most important artists of the Forties through the Sixties – ranging from the hard, lonesome sound of the Stanley Brothers to the heavy funk of James Brown.

A few notable events have occurred since I wrote the original article:  1) The city of Cincinnati got its act together and put up a historic marker in 2008 where King Records once operated (a good start); 2) Shad O’Shea, a former radio personality, studio owner and raconteur, passed away in June; and 3) the King catalog (minus James Brown’s recordings, which are owned by Polydor) is now being reissued, although in a somewhat haphazard manner, by Collectables Records.

A future post will focus on Cincinnati’s Fraternity Records – home of flame-throwing guitarist Lonnie Mack. 

King Records

In 1943, Cincinnati had become an industrial hub that attracted poor Appalachian whites, along with an already burgeoning population of blacks from the South.  Not only did both groups share the same jobs, they also shared an intense love of the regional music traditions they grew up with.  Syd Nathan must have realized this fact.  That same year, the asthmatic, near-sighted hustler closed the book on a series of dead-end jobs (wrestling promoter, park concessionaire, refrigerator salesman, record retailer) by founding his own record company, which eventually moved into a former icehouse at 1540 Brewster Ave. in the city’s Evanston neighborhood.

The origins of King Records coincided with the initial broadcasts of what later became Cincinnati’s answer to Nashville’s Grand Old Opry – WLW’s “Midwestern Hayride.”  And many of the artists that were featured on the Hayride eventually wound up on Nathan’s fledgling label.  Within a couple of years, King had become one of the most influential country labels nationwide, with a roster that included the likes of Grandpa Jones, Cowboy Copas, Moon Mullican, Hank Penny, Hawkshaw Hawkins, the Delmore Brothers and many others.  And most of it was pure, unfiltered country – a formula Nathan stuck with for most of the label’s existence.  Here’s a gospel-flavored number from 1960 by the legendary bluegrass duo the Stanley Brothers… Rank Stranger/The Stanley Brothers

Nathan didn’t just stop there, though.  During the early years he also released a number of records under the “race” category – a term used to describe records aimed specifically at blacks.  These records featured the citified sounds of jump blues and boogie-woogie, and are considered to be the forerunners of rock and roll.  Tiny Bradshaw, Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson and Ike Turner all scored R&B hits with King, as did blues crooners such as Bull Moose Jackson and Ivory Joe Hunter.  Here’s one by Cleanhead, whose unique brand of risque rhythm always seemed to find its way onto a barroom jukebox… Sittin On It All The Time/Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson

You get the idea… Nathan’s true forte, however, was his practice of covering country hits with R&B artists, and vice versa.  The York Brothers, a country duo that recorded for King in the late ‘40s and early ’50s, covered several of the era’s R&B hits and predated Sam Phillips’ work on Sun Records with Elvis Presley and Jerry Lee Lewis by several years.  Likewise, R&B acts such as Bull Moose Jackson and Wynonie Harris successfully re-recorded country hits by Wayne Raney and Moon Mullican, among others.  Wynonie scored a hit in 1951 by covering a tune recorded the previous year by Hank Penny (the tune also has been covered by western swingers Asleep at the Wheel, which makes sense, and rocker Pat Benatar, which makes no sense at all).

Bloodshot Eyes/Wynonie Harris

And here’s the flip side of the equation as the “King of the Hillbilly Piano Players,” Moon Mullican, cuts loose with a number by R&B bandleader Tiny Bradshaw… Well Oh Well/Moon Mullican

Although Nathan’s intentions were not totally artistic (he only covered hits by his own artists, which he owned all publishing rights to), his musical juggling act earned him a reputation as an innovator.  “Syd had a number of theories when it came to recording” said Col Jim Wilson, a salesman and, later, executive V.P. who worked with Nathan from King’s inception until 1965.  “He once said, ‘Give me the material, and I’ll find the artist,’ so he placed great emphasis on that.  At the same time, he always seemed to find artists with very distinct and readily identifiable styles.  Every King artist was unique in one way or another.”

Wilson, who eventually joined Starday Records in Nashville and helped orchestrate the purchase of King, also gave a lot of credit to the facilities themselves.  “King’s studio was the first of its kind in the country.  Recording, mastering, plating, printing, pressing and shipping were all done in the same building.  You could cut a record at night, and the next day it would be in the hands of a local DJ.”

At first, Nathan separated the R&B from King’s mainstay, country, by using different labels such as “Queen,” “Federal” and “De Luxe” for his race records.  In the ‘50s, however, he combined all of his acts under the King label, with greater emphasis on black R&B.

The first acts to score big for King in the ‘50s were the vocal groups – the Dominoes (featuring Clyde McPhatter), the Charms (later Otis Williams and the Charms) and the Midnighters (later Hank Ballard and the Midnighters).  Sixty Minute Man, the Dominoes’ Number 1 hit in 1951 that featured the refrain “I rock ‘em, roll ‘em all night long,” is considered by some to be the first true rock and roll record. Sixty Minute Man/The Dominoes

Midnighters’ hits such as Sexy Ways, Work With Me Annie and Annie Had a Baby made many listeners blanch with their sexually suggestive lyrics, but still worked their way up the charts.  As a bandleader, Hank Ballard later broke through with the classic party singles Finger Poppin’ Time and Let’s Go, Let’s Go, Let’s Go – both from 1960.

The jump blues of the late ‘40s led to the early rock and roll instrumentals of the ‘50s, such as organist Bill Doggett’s Honky Tonk – one of those perfect songs that should be pre-loaded on every iPod.

Nathan also unearthed the raw talents of Little Willie John (of Fever fame) and Little Esther, who went on to even greater success as Esther Phillips.  Listen to Little Willie tear it up on this cut from 1960… You Hurt Me/Little Willie John

“Commercial black music was born in Cincinnati,” said Shad O’Shea, a local radio personality who also ran Counterpart Creative Studios.  “Nathan was a true originator.  He was responsible for making black music available to whites.  Berry Gordy (of Motown), who gets a lot of the credit, simply prostituted a lot of the black R&B by ‘sweetening’ it up for white tastes.”

King also released singles and albums by some of the era’s top blues artists – including John Lee Hooker (who recorded as “Texas Slim” on King’s Federal subsidiary and “Johnny Lee” on De Luxe), Johnny “Guitar” Watson, Champion Jack Dupree, Albert King and Freddie King.  Freddie’s sides are among the most unique and satisfying in the King catalog – especially his “surf-blues” instrumentals that clearly informed a young Eric Clapton (who recorded a spot-on version of Hide Away with John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers).  I highly recommend all of Freddie’s recordings on King, but decided to feature this wild instrumental workout from 1950 by Hooker, who sounds like he’s bashing out the first power chords ever caught on wax! Slim’s Stomp/Texas Slim (John Lee Hooker)

King’s ace in the hole, though, was a young black dynamo from Augusta, GA, who recorded his first single at the Brewster Ave. studio in 1956.  Please, Please, Please laid the groundwork for the remarkable career of “Soul Brother Number 1” – James Brown. Please, Please, Please/James Brown

Although Brown’s early records for King eventually became R&B and funk classics with their gritty, unabashed drive, they couldn’t compete on the pop charts with more polished efforts by artists such as the Platters and the Coasters.  One of the reasons for Brown’s relative holding pattern in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s may have been that King Records, already beyond its heyday by the turn of the decade, was unable to promote an artist of Brown’s stature.  Whatever the reason, Brown ended up in a tense legal tug-of-war with Nathan and his label, resulting in him being given complete artistic control of his recordings by 1965 – virtually unheard of at that time.  And that same year, Brown took off with the song that made him an international phenomenon – Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag. Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag/James Brown

Brown continued with King through the ‘60s, even after Nathan’s death of a heart attack in 1968.  The label was eventually sold to Starday in Nashville, and Brown went on to form his own record production company with distribution handled by Polydor.

Today, the city of Cincinnati is finally recognizing one of its greatest contributions to the rest of the world.  Hopefully, the city’s true faithful will keep that legacy alive by succeeding in their efforts to build a new studio and King Records museum near the former icehouse on Brewster Avenue.

Another Christmas gift from Rubber City Review… Want to dance like J.B.?  As Brother Jack would say, there is help.

OK, I couldn’t resist adding some Freddie to the end of this… Enjoy! Walk Down the Aisle (Honey Chile)/Freddie King

Bluesman Little Walter was the troubled genius of Chess Records.  But when it came to just plain crazy, it was hard to top Walter’s label-mate, Bo Diddley, who recorded some of the most demented sides in rock ‘n roll history.  A half-century later, those recordings still manage to startle us… Bo’s Guitar

Here Bo’s band locks into a groove that could have easily gone on for another 15-20 minutes at a typical Fifties juke joint. Pretty Thing

These two songs alone make the case that Bo — who signed his name “The Bo” and was referred to by The New York Times as “Mr. Diddley” — was the most original of all the early rockers.  He clearly shared Walter’s restless spirit and drive; a constant need to test the very limits of his equipment… and his audience.

Like the vast majority of people on this planet, I never had a chance to see Little Walter perform.  But I did play with The Bo – me and about 10,000 other bar-band veterans around the world.

You see, it became standard practice for the original rock royalty like Chuck Berry and Bo to hire pick-up bands in various towns to back them up for their gigs.  It went something like this: Bo’s manager would call a local promoter, who would recommend a local band, and said band would spend several hours (or days, depending on the band’s level of confidence) rehearsing Bo’s tunes – with no idea what Bo would unleash on them when he hit town.

Well, our band (The Warsaw Falcons) got the nod for several of his gigs in the Cincinnati area, and the first one was a custom car show at the old Cincinnati Gardens in 1983.  We figured that Bo would show up early and spend about an hour with us going over the set list and running through a few tunes.  No such luck.  We met Bo about 10 minutes before the gig, and the only direction he provided was telling our hapless drummer not to play the patented Bo Diddley beat (if you’re not familiar with it, please exit our site now)… “Only I play that beat, buddy!”

Things went better than expected, though, as Bo quickly whipped us into shape by barking out a few commands during the opener.  And we hung on tight for the rest of the set, doing our best to follow his every move and not get in the way.  It was an unsettling experience, looking out at an audience of classic cars on the floor of the Gardens (“I’d like to dedicate this one to that pretty little Chevy in the third row”)… but it was a huge thrill for me to play with the one and only Bo.  He even brought me to the front of the stage and made me kneel down – the only time I’ve ever done that outside of church.  I felt like I’d joined the sacred order of Bo sidemen… sort of the blues equivalent of the Masons.

It was also the only time anyone asked for my autograph (at least in a deep and meaningful way).  Apparently, a few of Bo’s overeager fans thought we were part of his traveling extravaganza, rather than semi-employed schlubs who only lived a few miles away.

We did two more gigs with The Bo – including one opening for The Temptations at Miami University.  The absolute best part of that experience was drinking beer in our dressing room and hearing the Temps warm up in the room next door by singing their hits a cappella.  Needless to say, we all wept openly.

Bo never had much to say to us.  He was bitter about the small amount of money he made from his hits while the next generation of rockers made millions.  And he would’ve rather been back home in Florida than feeding white folks’ hunger for nostalgia.  But he snapped out of character long enough to make me the butt of a very elaborate joke involving a baby peeing itself (when the punch line came, he squeezed a wet paper towel hidden in his fist, and the water ran over my outstretched palm… many laughs at my expense).

The Bo left this world on June 2, 2008, but his beat goes on in hundreds of bars on any given Saturday night.  I’ll leave you with these few examples of his power and glory… Amen!

Here’s a video clip of Bo in his prime, working out on You Can’t Judge A Book By Its Cover with the very sexy Duchess on second guitar (clearly he was ahead of his time by sharing the stage – back in the early Sixties, no less – with such a strong and capable woman!)…

The Warsaw Falcons’ intrepid sound man taped our gig with Bo right off the board.  But given the 26 years that have gone by since our 50 minutes of fame, I wouldn’t call this hi-fidelity.  Still, it’s worth sharing.  Here Bo gives a shout-out to all his main men and women from the Fifties (including himself!): Bo Testifies

This might be my favorite Bo artifact… Since he never brought his own amp with him, he always was at the mercy of someone else’s crappy equipment.  Apparently, he didn’t care much for my Fender Twin! Jack It Up

Greetings from Carefree, AZ… where they like to point out “it’s a ‘dry’ heat.”

I’m using this brief respite from the Rubber City as an opportunity to read yet another book about an important musician – even though I’ve gone far beyond the recommended lifetime quota for such books.

Unfortunately, I can’t recommend any of them to people who don’t share my obsessive-compulsive approach to American roots music.  Because once you strip away the “who played with who, what label, which session, who produced, what instruments/amplifiers/accessories were used, how impaired were the players, which substances were abused”… there’s really not that much left to talk about.

But as a service to my readers who aren’t inclined to care about such things, I’m offering this layman’s guide to a few of my favorites:

Title	Author(s)	# Pages	Key Takeaway
Moanin’ at Midnight: The Life and Times of Howlin’ Wolf	James Segrest, Mark Hoffman	436	The Wolf took care of business; Muddy didn’t
Can’t Be Satisfied: The Life and Times of Muddy Waters	Robert Gordon	448	Muddy was a flawed yet caring father figure to his “problem children” (e.g. Otis Spann, Little Walter)
Three Chords and the Truth	Laurence Leamer	450	There’s a very thin line between country stars and their fans
Chronicles, Volume 1	Bob Dylan	320	Best way to get Dylan’s attention: walk around on his roof
Miles: The Autobiography	Miles Davis with Quincy Troupe	448	How could such an obvious prick play such beautiful music?
Clapton: The Autobiography	Eric Clapton	352	He loves yachting, cricket and over-producing his records

Hope that helps…

I’ve just finished “Blues with a Feeling: The Little Walter Story,” by Tony Glover, Scott Dirks and Ward Gaines.  And this one’s an especially tough read for those who have only a passing interest in the world’s greatest harmonica player.  It’s stuffed with details on virtually every session that featured Walter as a leader or sideman – not to mention countless gigs where he at least showed up to play (Walter was notorious for letting other harp players take over in the middle of his gigs so he could go somewhere else to drink or get high, or both).  But once again, I’m hooked… and I can’t believe it took me this long to read about the single most innovative and influential bluesman that Chicago ever spawned.

I’ve played blues harp in bar bands for years.  I learned by ear when I was a teenager, playing mostly bluegrass with my brothers and fumbling along to third-generation blues tunes covered by rock bands like The Allman Brothers Band and Derek and the Dominoes.  The latter’s version of Walter’s “Key to the Highway” is perfect for harp neophytes – nearly 10 minutes of the same chord changes, a steady mid-tempo groove, and no flashy harp player to discourage you. Key to the Highway — Derek & The Dominos

But like any self-respecting blues hound, I eventually decided it was time to sniff out the hard stuff, so I borrowed a Little Walter album that kept staring at me when I’d visit my sister – a two-record set that had this bizarre illustration on the cover of Walter in a tux, standing in front of what appears to be a shipwrecked bar.

But this record was the motherlode for aspiring harp players.  And if you felt the least bit insecure about your playing when you dropped the needle on this one, you’d surely toss your harmonicas out for good after hearing Walter’s unbeatable tone and technique.  Here’s one of my favorite solos from Walter’s own recordings… My friend Andy calls it one of his “runaway riffs” – a good way to describe Walter in full flight. Mellow Down Easy

Walter’s powerful instrumentals seemed to openly mock his competitors – a useless exercise when you consider he really didn’t have any peers.  And his stuff sounds just as fresh and vital today as it did when he first shook up the blues world back in the 1950s.

He saved some of his best riffs for tunes he recorded with Muddy Waters, and my favorite is his solo on Muddy’s I Just Want To Make Love To You.  I’m amazed he pulled this one off – it’s so outside and alien, light years ahead of what anyone was putting down in Chicago at the time.  Maybe there’s a reason he named one of his instrumentals Flying Saucer… On this one, it sounds like he beamed himself into the studio, straight from the spaceship. I Just Want To Make Love To You — Muddy Waters

Walter’s own singles became jukebox standards – both the instrumental Juke and the hugely popular My Babe hit number one on the nation’s R&B charts.  And he soon eclipsed Muddy as the most popular artist on the Chess Record label.  In the book, harp player Billy Boy Arnold tops the blues academics in describing Walter’s appeal: “…a girl told me once that ‘Little Walter sound like a hipped-up Muddy Waters,’ meaning the same music, just hipped up some – and she described it right.  He was just wailing, he was a swinger; a lot of beautiful solos.”

Of course, fame can be fleeting, and Walter soon was standing in the shadows of the new rock ‘n roll artists who were taking over the Chess studios – especially Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley… although “The Bo” (as he liked to call himself) and Walter had great respect for one another and even recorded the following classic together: Diddley Daddy — Bo Diddley

Walter was a rough character who seemed to literally fight his way through life.  He was beaten up by more than a few racist cops, but also stepped into a number of scrapes he could’ve easily avoided, including several with jealous husbands.  He eventually succumbed to full-blown alcoholism and died in 1968 when one too many blows to the head sent a blood clot to his heart (“Blues with a Feeling” includes at least seven or eight wildly different accounts of Walter’s last scuffle).

The book’s epilogue offers this sad and sobering look at Walter’s demise: “Maybe when he saw how fleeting the fame and fortune was, he lost respect for his own gift – and for himself. And once he began his prolonged downward spiral, circumstances and his own choices seemed to conspire to bring it to its inevitable conclusion.”

Walter on Disc:

If you’re starting to search for that two-LP set, rest easy — there’s plenty of Walter available on disc…

In a more perfect world, every new homeowner in America would receive a free copy of Walter’s “Best” — part of the Chess 50th Anniversary Collection.  Hard-core fans can dive into “The Complete Chess Masters: 1950-1967,” a five-disc, 126-track set on Hip-O Select.  However, it includes a number of duds and alternate takes and none of the 50-plus prime cuts Walter recorded with Muddy Waters and Jimmy Rogers.  But Walter was a jazzman at heart and never played the same solo twice, so the alternates can be supremely rewarding for more dedicated listeners.

Given the fact that Walter lived and played on the edge, there are few surviving videos showing him in action.  I’ll leave you with these two.

The first is a nice, if brief, career overview that played at his 2008 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (oddly enough, as a sideman)… You can find it here.

The second appears to be the only available video on youtube of Walter performing live, with Hound Dog Taylor in Europe (1967).   Now I’m a big fan of both Walter and Taylor, but they weren’t the most compatible musicians.  Walter was an avowed disciple of jump-jazz great Louis Jordan, while Taylor clearly modeled himself after the far-raunchier Elmore James (for prime Hound Dog, check out “Release the Hound,” which includes live cuts recorded at various Cleveland dives).  In several interviews, Walter didn’t hide his disdain for Taylor’s down-home style.  But the video remains a fascinating look at two great bluesmen, playing it the only way they knew how.

Next up: “Me and The Bo,” or how I survived my brief stint as a Bo Diddley sideman.