Rubber City Review

Want to stare into the very depths of someone’s soul, or at least find out if a long drive together is a bad idea? A few of the following questions about music preferences might help. Beatles or Stones (which we covered here)… Jimmy Cliff or Bob Marley… Loretta Lynn or Tammy Wynette… Allman Brothers or Lynyrd Skynyrd… John Coltrane or Miles Davis… Radiohead or Coldplay… Captain or Tennille…

And don’t let your subject off the hook. If someone can’t take a stand either way, that just means he/she is unworthy of your trust.

I’ll throw another one into the mix – Stevie Ray or Jimmie Vaughan… The former, obviously, is one of the most celebrated guitarists of the last 30 years. A guitarist who, for better or worse, had an impact on virtually every blues-based stringbender who followed. A once-in-a-generation talent who might even be more popular dead than he was alive.

But put me down for Jimmie, and not because I didn’t have utmost respect for his brother. Like thousands of other students of the instrument, I made several pilgrimages to see SRV live and left convinced that I’d witnessed the Most Amazing, Death-Defying Act Under the Big Top. But Jimmie’s the guy you come across on your way to the parking lot… He’s sitting on the edge of a rail car playing gutbucket blues through a broke-dick amp as a few strippers and circus freaks slow-dance nearby. In other words, a little closer to the blues according to Charlie Patton and Robert Johnson.

Actually, one of the first times I heard Jimmie Vaughan’s guitar was back in ’81 at a strip joint in Newport, Kentucky – across the river from Cincinnati. Of course I was dragged there by my friends to see Miss Nude Memphis (which seemed slightly more promising than paying to see Miss Nude Paducah across the street). And I have to admit, Memphis didn’t disappoint. Most of the other girls danced to bad ‘80s rock, but the Memphis Belle whipped out The Fabulous Thunderbirds’ first album and what seemed like an entire vat of massage oil, and I’ve been a fan ever since – of Vaughan that is… not sure what happened to Belle, or the oil. Rich Woman

Eventually I caught Vaughan and the T-birds at a small club in Dayton. Even though the band went on to become a minor sensation in the mid-‘80s with songs like Powerful Stuff and Wrap It Up, they always seemed a little uncomfortable playing larger theaters and summer “sheds.” They were right at home in that Dayton dive, though… and I was a little worried at one point that Vaughan’s thick, smoky guitar would set off the club’s fire sprinklers. I’m a Good Man

Vaughan eventually left the T-birds behind – which I always respected because I’d already lost interest in the band when they torqued up their sound for a major label. And at least from a creative standpoint, his career as a solo artist has been far more rewarding than even I would’ve predicted.

First, we found out that he has a soulful and expressive voice – an instrument that he never used with the T-birds (granted, Kim Wilson is a tough act to follow). Here’s one of his early forays into lead singing: Love the World

He also had the extreme good taste to hire Bill Willis on organ and George Rains on drums.

Willis is a guy who clearly deserves his own blog post, having served as a staff bassist at King Studios and contributed to many of the label’s legendary recordings by James Brown, Freddie King, Little Willie John, Bill Doggett (responsible for one of the great instrumentals of all time, Honky Tonk) and many others. Here Willis lays down the low end for one of Freddie’s signature songs: I’m Tore Down

Willis eventually persuaded Doggett to show him a few tricks on organ, and he’s been ridin’ the B3 ever since, recording and performing with the likes of LaVerne Baker and Floyd Dixon. He does it Jimmy Smith-style, kicking out funky bass lines on the B3’s foot pedals. Here he locks in tight with Vaughan and Rains (and special guest Joe Sublett on sax) on a tune that recalls the glory years of the organ combo: Tilt A Whirl

Vaughan’s other secret weapon, Rains, should be considered a legend simply for joining the San Francisco lineup of the Sir Douglas Quintet back in ’68. The Texas expat helped made border-rock history on cuts like Mendocino and Nuevo Laredo before moving back to Austin and joining the city’s fertile blues scene back in the Seventies. Rains served as de facto house drummer for Clifford Antone’s record label and club, where he probably sat in with Vaughan more times than he can remember. Clearly, he never met a shuffle he couldn’t nail down tight: Kinky Woman

That’s the solid core Vaughan started with back in ’94 with his first solo release, “Strange Pleasure.” Everything else was gravy. Rich, tasty gravy. Gospel/doo-wop vocals, second guitar (including flamenco on one tune), vibes, sax… and one very dangerous blues mama, Lou Ann Barton, who adds plenty of spice to a few of Vaughan’s best moments as a solo artist: In the Middle of the Night

My favorite Vaughan album – “Do you get the blues?” – had the unfortunate distinction of being released on September 11, 2001. But it didn’t take me long to appreciate its many joys, which probably served as little subconscious reminders that all was not lost post-9/11. Let’s put it this way – it damn sure gave me more of a healing feeling than Charlie Daniels’ “This Ain’t a Rag, It’s a Flag.” I especially latched onto this soulful little number that finds Vaughan settling into a slow groove with his son, Tyrone, on rhythm. In fact, I’d like to hear more of Vaughan exploring that same sweet spot that his idol, Johnny “Guitar” Watson, found between blues and funk: Without You

Speaking of Watson, I’m not sure if anyone captures the bite and sass of that bluesy-funky sound better than Vaughan. Exhibit A: Motor Head Baby

Vaughan recently followed up on his fine 2010 release, “Plays Blues, Ballads & Favorites,” with “Plays More Blues, Ballads & Favorites.” OK, maybe not the most innovative marketing concept… but definitely more vintage Vaughan – smart, in-the-pocket blues-based goodness. And definitely a few cuts above your standard contemporary blues fare. Here’s a taste from the earlier release – a blazing instrumental that proves Vaughan is only getting better with age: Comin’ and Goin’

Vaughan live, with his tribute to brother Stevie Ray. Abrupt ending, but pretty sweet slice of JLV in action…

In 1977, I’d just landed in Athens, Ohio, to begin my junior year of college at Ohio University. But more important, I started working at a record store uptown – a great opportunity to fill out my collection with plenty of free vinyl.

Unfortunately, it was slim pickings for this unreconstructed blues hound. Guitar-slinger Freddie King had passed away at the end of ’76, and aside from Muddy Waters’ great comeback album “Hard Again” (which earned its title when a first listen gave Muddy a chub in his chinos), there really wasn’t much new stuff to get excited about. So I kept mining the old stuff – mostly on Chess and whatever label John Lee Hooker or Lightnin’ Hopkins decided to sign up with for a few extra bucks.

I really didn’t know much about Kansas City jazz and had yet to discover the many joys of jump blues artists like Buddy Johnson and Louis Jordan. So I was completely floored when I came across the first album by a mighty blues and swing band from Rhode Island called Roomful of Blues, with Duke Robillard on vocals and guitar.

The album was produced by the legendary songwriter Doc Pomus (Save the Last Dance for Me, This Magic Moment, Little Sister, Viva Las Vegas) with able assistance from Joel Dorn, another guy who had already lived the dream – producing more than a few hit records at Atlantic during the late ‘60s and early ‘70s for artists like Roberta Flack and Les McCann.

If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that Pomus and Dorn felt like a couple of love-struck teenagers when they first came across Roomful – a gang of sharp-looking, road-tested hipsters who were completely over the moon for records that rarely made it past the 78 RPM format. Even Count Basie was a fan, calling them “hottest blues band I’ve ever heard” after sitting in with them in ’74.

Maybe the Count was overserved that night. But no question, Roomful of Blues was in a class by itself. At a time when the Sex Pistols were pissing all over Seventies schlock-rock, Roomful of Blues had taken the exact opposite approach – retreating to the hardwood-floored dance halls of the Forties and Fifties to recreate the red, hot and blue sounds of T-Bone Walker, Big Joe Turner and Roy Milton. Red, Hot and Blue

Robillard was the consummate swing-blues guitarist, an old soul who had spent a big chunk of his young 29 years woodshedding with the masters – T-Bone, Lowell Fulson, Buddy Guy, jazz greats like Charlie Christian… Robillard had those and other classic styles down cold. But his soulful voice only added to the timeless feel of that first record, and it was clear that this was Duke’s band. I especially love this rockin’ version of a tune by R&B stroller Chuck Willis (one of three Willis covers on the album): Take It Like A Man

Duke and company also did a wonderful job covering a T-Bone original first recorded back in 1947, during the last of his landmark sessions with the Black & White label. Based on several focus groups I’ve conducted over the years, I can tell you with great certainty that I’m Still In Love With You drives women crazy. Every time I hear a lame version of You Look Wonderful Tonight and You Are So Beautiful and At Last at a wedding party, I wonder why this next tune never makes the cut (especially if the couple has a more complicated relationship than those other songs would imply). And it features some fine sax by guest Scott Hamilton… I’m Still In Love With You

Robillard recorded one more album with Roomful, and it’s every bit as good as the first one. Released in ’79, “Let’s Have a Party” has the same supporting cast – including the very capable Al Copley on piano, sax prodigies Greg Piccolo and Rich Lataille, and swinging drummer John Rossi. As the title and cover suggest, the album is the perfect soundtrack for a booze-fueled house party in some fleabag joint that hasn’t seen a freshly paved road in years. Let’s Have A Party

My favorite moment on the album is the horn-driven climax to Big Joe Turner’s The Chill is On. It makes the point that, unlike many of the retro bands that were part of the ‘90s swing revival – Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, Who’s Your Daddy (OK, I made that last one up) – Roomful understood the power of dynamics… of slowly building the tension in a song or solo to the point where you can’t help but run over to the stereo and crank it well into the red zone: The Chill Is On

You can argue that, creatively, Duke and Roomful didn’t break any new ground. Most of the songs were covers, and they never strayed too much from the original versions. But for me, those first two Roomful of Blues albums had the same impact that many young guitar slingers felt when they first heard Cream play Crossroads – they opened me up to a lot of music I didn’t know existed. Those albums led me to the masters of jump blues, and the seductive sound of Ella Johnson crooning over brother Buddy’s fearsome horns and relentless rhythm section: (Gonna Go) Upside Your Head/Buddy & Ella Johnson

Roomful had a big influence on many blues bands that followed – including the Fabulous Thunderbirds, which used Roomful’s horn section on their “Butt Rockin’” album, and Stevie Ray Vaughan, who followed up on Roomful’s cover of Texas Flood with his own version some six years later.

After leaving Roomful in 1980 for personal reasons, Robillard went on to a fairly successful solo career and even joined the T-Birds for a short spell. He eventually recorded with Bob Dylan and toured with Tom Waits, and remains a sought-after session player.

Roomful of Blues continues to record and perform, having gone through a number of lineups over the years. In fact, some 50 musicians have played with Roomful since it was formed as a four-piece back in 1967 – including blues guitarist Ronnie Earl, T-Birds drummer Fran Christina and the late trombonist Porky Cohen, who played with Tommy Dorsey and Artie Shaw, among others. Today, Rich Lataille is the only remaining member from the original band.

Roomful also rose to the challenge of recording with a few of their idols, mainly Big Joe Turner, Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson and Earl King (I especially like the King album, “Glazed”). The band has earned five Grammy nominations and many more blues awards – but I keep going back to those first two albums with Duke Robillard. That’s a band for the ages.

Didn’t hear enough Duke on guitar? This’ll take care of that.

You might be able to find a few vinyl copies on ebay, but CDs of Roomful’s second album are only available on the band’s web site.

It’s hard to imagine Saturday night in America without the corner-bar blues hero. Even harder trying to imagine said blues hero making it through the night without playing standards like Sweet Home Chicago, Got My Mojo Workin’, Shake Your Moneymaker, Stormy Monday or The Thrill is Gone. In most communities, you’d violate a local ordinance by refusing to play these songs in a corner bar.

I should know. I’ve played them hundreds of times myself, often at gunpoint (at least it seemed that way sometimes). And I was usually backing up a weekend blues warrior in some dive in Ohio.

The best of them all was Ray Fuller. By day, he’d use his daddy’s backhoe to lay sewer pipe. By night, he turned joints throughout the Columbus area into blues cathedrals – where you could worship Saints Muddy, Hooker and Reed in atonement for the various sins you committed on your hi-fi system during the week.

Some nights Ray would show up dog-tired from laying pipe all day (not in the Holmesian sense, mind you) and spend the first few songs “sittin” the blues, Lightin’ Hopkins-style. But his energy level would pick up considerably by the second set, and you knew it was a good night when Ray would start playing his Strat behind his back while humping the bass drum (ya hadda be there).

We were what you’d call a “three chords and a cloud of dust” blues band, which seemed appropriate given we were plying our trade in the home of Ohio State Football. Songs with four or five chords were usually reserved for the first set, before we made too many trips to the bar. But the best part of the evening involved Ray whipping out the Oahu lap steel, our bass player Bill slappin’ the standup, myself playing the most rudimentary rhythm guitar possible – all in the service of the great Elmore James. Here’s Ray and company doing the Elmore shuffle, live at Stache’s in Columbus… Talk To My Baby/Ray Fuller and the Bluesrockers

Although Ray wrote a number of solid originals, he wasn’t averse to complying with city law by trotting out the old warhorses. But he always wanted to dig a little deeper by covering songs that were obscure enough to pass as originals among unsuspecting locals. And when I played with Ray back in the mid-‘80s, the prototype for blues bands trying to do something a little different was The Fabulous Thunderbirds. Not the T-Birds of “Tuff Enuff”/MTV fame, but the band that recorded their first album in a day, with time left over to barbecue some pork.

For white guys who wanted to play the blues (at this point, it’s important to ask the question first posed by the Bonzo Dog Band back in 1968, “Can blue men sing the whites?”), there were very few role models to choose from. Hordes of hippie shoegazers had pretty much wrung the life out of second-generation blues, and punk-rockers had succeeded in making the extended blues guitar solo almost completely irrelevant. Paul Butterfield and Mike Bloomfield were great, and Butter kept the spirit alive with his “Better Days” band in the early-‘70s, but that was about it for white bluesmen. Then along came the T-Birds – a fresh breeze out of Austin, Texas.

Guitarist Jimmie Vaughan looked like Gene Vincent’s badass brother while playing like Buddy Guy after a three-week bender. Harp player Kim Wilson clearly worshipped at the altar of Little Walter but more than reveled in the band’s punk-blues attitude, wearing see-through knit shirts and a turban on his balding head. He also was a powerful singer, mostly devoid of the “bluesier-than-thou” affectations that seemed to trip up a lot of white singers. Bassist Keith Ferguson and drummer Mike Buck made up the “Joe Friday” of blues rhythm sections – just the groove, ma’am. This was clearly something to aspire to. Here’s evidence that the T-Birds could play blues with the kind of authority that few other white players could match… C-Boy’s Blues/The Fabulous Thunderbirds

But the T-Birds’ true genius was in the way they mined the unique sub-genre known as swamp blues (check out our recent post, “The Sound of the Swamp”). Their first long-player, “Girls Go Wild” (released in 1979), included covers of two swamp blues classics – She’s Tuff by Jerry “Boogie” McCain and Scratch My Back by Slim Harpo. On this next sample, you can hear the T-Birds’ version first and Harpo second… Baby Scratch My Back/The Fabulous Thunderbirds, Slim Harpo

The T-Birds second album, “What’s the Word,” offered even more swamp blues goodness, including a tune recorded by one of the form’s mainstays, harp player Lazy Lester. Here’s Lester’s original of Sugar Coated Love, released in 1958: Sugar-Coated Love/Lazy Lester

Back in Columbus, the Bluesrockers were taking the long road to the swamp by trying to crack the code on “Girls Go Wild.” Inspired by McCain, Harpo and Lester, we started combing the record stores on High Street to find out where the hell these songs came from. Of course, the first reliable collection of Harpo’s “hits” was an import, but it was worth the extra bucks to have his essential stuff on one slab of vinyl. Later we liked to joke that we were a Slim Harpo tribute band, having worked up respectable covers of Scratch, Got Love If You Want It, I’m A King Bee, Te-Ni-Nee-Ni-Nu and Tip On In.

Eventually, the T-Birds headed off in a more commercial direction while we dug even deeper into the source material – which became a lot easier when reissue experts like Rhino Records started putting this stuff out on CD. Ray even wrote a fine original, Oh My Cherie, that was clearly influenced by the sound of the swamp. Maybe he’ll send me an mp3 someday so I can post it here.

Although we soon lost interest in the T-Birds, we remain forever grateful for their first recordings. Without them, it would’ve been much harder to maintain the ruse that we were a mostly original blues band.

Ray’s still rockin’ the blues today… If you’re in the Columbus area, check here for a listing of local gigs. He plays quite a few in Reynoldsburg, where local authorities are willing to look the other way if you don’t cover Sweet Home Chicago.

T-Birds in 1980… with their own version of Sugar-Coated Love:

Ray Fuller in 1990… opening for The Paladins at Crazy Mama’s in Columbus. Basically a one-chord song – perfect for the third set. Little Walter got that “trill” effect by moving his harmonica back and forth. He found the whole head-shaking thing undignified. Maybe he was right.

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 knock 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

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