Rubber City Review

Dr. John, the Night Tripper. Gris-gris man. Guru of hoodoo. Master of New Orleans rhythm and funk.

With Dr. John, New Orleans native Mac Rebennack created one of the most memorable characters in music. Part Mardi Gras Indian and part conjurer of dark spirits, Dr. John seemed rooted in traditions that had little to do with the psychedelic rockers he toured with back in the Sixties. And he probably sent more than a few hippies to the psych ward with the voodoo-inspired look and sound of the Night Trippers, his traveling band of New Orleans refugees: Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya

On any given night, you might see a fire dancer, a snake handler or even a magic trick or two. But the band’s sinister sideshow was just part of the story. Dr. John remains the real deal – a visionary genius who has been reinventing Crescent City soul since he started playing guitar in the Third Ward back in 1954 (he switched to piano after the ring finger of his fretting hand was almost shot off during a fight). And if you only knew him from classic records like “Gris-Gris” or “Right Place, Wrong Time” – or even from one of his guitar-driven instrumentals from the ‘50s like Storm Warning – you were probably knocked sideways (like I was) by his 1981 release “Dr. John Plays Mac Rebennack.”

That album and a follow-up release titled “The Brightest Smile in Town” (1983) captured Dr. John’s first and only solo recording sessions on piano. Professor Longhair, James Booker and other masters of New Orleans piano get their due, but the solo albums mostly serve notice that Dr. John has a wonderful style that’s all his own – and very few living peers when it comes to “radiating the 88s.” Here’s a stunning original that he wrote for his mother: Dorothy

As he points out in his excellent book “Under the Hoodoo Moon: The Life of the Night Tripper,” the solo project for the small Clean Cuts label was something he initially dreaded because “it reminded me of my greatest professional nightmare – that I’d end up a solo-piano lounge act, staring at Holiday Inns or bowling alleys for the rest of my natural life.”

The sessions ended up having a liberating effect on Dr. John, who had grown tired of playing the same old stuff. “The audiences loved those earlier [New Orleans/Mardi Gras] songs, but I found they were also ready for music on a higher plane, sounds that appealed to a spiritual awareness, not just that low-down meat level. But I tried to keep the old street-side New Orleans flavor in there, too…” which is especially apparent on this original, a tribute to his father: Big Mac

In an earlier release called “Dr. John’s Gumbo,” he brought together some of New Orleans’ finest (including the first-class horn section of Lee Allen and Melvin and David Lastie), to cover a number of Crescent City classics… songs like Iko Iko, Big Chief, Little Liza Jane and this one, a favorite back in the day at Angola State Penitentiary: Junko Partner Despite the grim subject matter (“the anthem for the dopers, whores, pimps, and cons,” as Dr. John puts it in his book), Junko Partner has that funky, joyful vibe that seems to pour out of the best New Orleans R&B.

With the Clean Cut sessions, Dr. John mostly avoids the usual New Orleans fare in favor of more unexpected standards like Hoagy Carmichael’s The Nearness of You, the traditional Wade in the Water, and this Latin-tinged number by Brazilian composer and cavaquinho player Valdir Azevedo: Delicado

Dr. John with North Side Skull & Bones Gang, Mardi Gras '08 (photo: James Quine)

The sessions have a very informal and organic feel to them, like Dr. John just plopped himself down at a piano in an empty hotel lobby and started running through every song he’d ever learned. “I probably prepared less for those two Clean Cut albums… than for any other I’d ever done,” he said. “I just had to go in there and wing it; because of my fear of performing solo, I knew if I thought about it too much, I’d have frozen.”

The stripped-down sessions took place at a small studio near New York City’s Chelsea neighborhood. Just the basics – baby grand piano, a two-track recording system… and Dr. John, of course. Hard to miss with that combination.

Dr. John on video… Here’s a solo performance from 1981, the year Clean Cut released “Dr. John Plays Mac Rebennack.” Oddly enough, it’s part of a skit from Second City Television (SCTV), the Canadian sketch comedy show that first introduced viewers in the U.S. to John Candy, Catherine O’Hara and Eugene Levy, among others. Dr. John also acted in this sketch – ”Polynesian Town,” a takeoff of the movie “Chinatown”:

And here’s a curious artifact from the Night Tripper years – a performance of Zu Zu Mamou from the album “The Sun, Moon & Herbs.” “What I wanted was entertainment for the eyes as well as the ears, and I knew the minstrels were the best there was at laying down a show,” Dr. John writes. “It was a kick to bring back the idea of showmanship to the rock and roll era, where at the time there was little old-style show biz happening.”

On March 14, Dr. John will be inducted by John Legend into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Had to throw this in… new video for The Black Keys – Howlin’ for You. Insane.

How’s that for a blowhard title?

The operative word being “moments”… which speaks to one of several fundamentally different ways that we experience music.

Some folks like it in the background, like aural wallpaper. Now, I’m not going to waste valuable bandwidth trashing smooth jazz, Enya or Muzak. I actually felt a tinge of sadness when I found out that Muzak filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection last year. But I tend to have a hard time ignoring ambient music – I’m always trying to figure out what song is being reprocessed, and whether or not it’s an actual improvement over the original.

Years ago, I was toiling away in a Muzak-fed workplace when I kept hearing this nagging melody… Why is this so disturbing? Then I suddenly realized I was listening to an orchestral remake of Journey to the Center of Your Mind by Ted Nugent and the Amboy Dukes, and my head almost exploded. I found out later that Nugent actually tried to purchase Muzak just to put it out of business. So I’ll give the company credit for following through on this diabolical act of revenge.

Other folks just wanna dance. Nothing wrong with that… In fact, that’s probably a far healthier approach to music than this constant need to analyze every song and identify every conceivable influence.

Some of my more literate friends are all about the lyrics. They trace their musical lineage back to Dylan, who begat the Beatles who begat Elvis Costello who begat a whole slew of contemporary indie poets. Unfortunately, some of these modern-day bards approach things like rhythm and musicianship with an attitude bordering on contempt.

I recently came across a quote from guitarist Geoff Muldaur (Paul Butterfield’s Better Days, The Texas Sheiks) in the Austin Chronicle that seemed to describe where I come out on this issue:

“I’m miserable at listening to singer-songwriters, because I’m not interested in the (singer-songwriter’s) music, and I don’t listen to the words,” Muldaur said. “Zero. I come at it from the music. If the lyrics hold up, if the music is compelling, I might listen to words – if they’re spectacular and draw me in. Take ‘Gee Baby, Ain’t I Good to You,’ as an example. ‘Love makes me treat you the way I do. Gee, baby, ain’t I good to you.’ That’s it.”

Which brings us to the malcontents at Rubber City Review and other obsessive-compulsive types – mostly musicians and record collectors – who simply can’t get certain guitar licks or horn parts or vocal flourishes out of their heads. Sadly, these retained musical moments don’t go away – they begin to crowd out other basic thoughts, such as those involving food, personal hygiene and the speech patterns of spouses and family members. Help stop this terrible affliction…

OCD-related maladies aside, I’ve always noticed that musicians use these moments as shorthand to describe what they like about a certain song, artist or genre.

When I was putting together my post on Robert Quine, I came across a tribute from an old friend of Rob’s, Procter Lippincott (from the music site Perfect Sound Forever). Here he describes a process that should be familiar to most musicians:

“We never listened to whole tracks together. In fact, on most occasions, as I recall, we listened only to that particular instant on any track that we felt made it great, even breathtaking, in its impact. It might have been A Thing of the Past, for instance, where Shirley of the Shirelles’ voice cracked on the first word of the phrase, ‘Thi-i-s-s is the moment to decide’ (my choice), a syncopated line on ‘Waltz for Debby’ (Bill Evans’ ‘Live at the Village Vanguard’… his), or the pregnant pause right after the head in Power to Love on Jimi Hendrix’s wildly uneven ‘Band of Gypsys’ album, before Jimi cranks up the volume to take another unearthly solo (mutually appreciated). Quine typically was not as accepting of my choices as I was of his, but we kept at it endlessly, searching for our secular epiphany.”

Here’s that moment (and more – I just couldn’t cut off the solo) from “Band of Gypsys”: Power to Love/Jimi Hendrix

In the best spirit of this process, I’ve asked brothers Jack and James to join me in sharing some of our favorite musical moments. I promise to be accepting of their choices – even if I’m convinced they suck – and I look forward to joining them at the upcoming Rubber City Roundtable: “Why Our Opinions About Music Are Much More Important Than Yours.”

Tim: Charlie Parker may seem like an obvious choice, but I wonder how many jazz musicians became junkies after hearing Bird’s ultimate throwdown to his fellow be-boppers? This is from a compilation of his recordings on the Savoy and Dial labels (one Dial collection even included this sample as a separate track, listed as the “Famous Alto Break”): Night in Tunisia/Charlie Parker

Jack: This is one of those slow blues that only a good blues singer can sing. I’m talking about Muddy Waters. With a top-notch band that follows his every breath. “Don’t say I don’t love you, cause I stays out late at night long… You know I’m a country boy and I don’t know what’s going on.” It’s great, but the growl and cry at the end really nails it. Country Boy/Muddy Waters

James: It had to be the mid-’70s when I first heard Reconsider Me coming from a record vendor’s booth at a Pensacola flea market. When I asked who the singer was, the vendor said he thought it might be Tom Jones. “Tom Jones can’t sing like that,” I said. Not even in his dreams. It turned out to be New Orleans crooner Johnny Adams. For reasons I still don’t understand, the song was included in a compilation album called “The Streak,” which also featured that Ray Stevens ode to exhibitionism. I don’t know how to categorize this sound. Swampolitan? I do know there aren’t many vocalists, alive or dead, who could sing with this particular combination of sophistication and scary passion. Listen to Johnny’s bloodcurdling falsetto on the chorus. Reconsider Me/Johnny Adams

Tim: Couldn’t resist another perfect falsetto – this one from gospel singer Claude Jeter, who passed away in January 2009. You probably didn’t read about it in the paper or see it covered on Entertainment Tonight. Which makes sense, because he had one of those transcendent voices (like the previous example) that seem to exist in another world… one that would relegate Madonna Ciccone to a lifetime of obscurity. Here’s my favorite moment – actually, two soaring falsettos by Jeter – from my favorite tune by the Swan Silvertones: Mary Don’t You Weep/The Swan Silvertones with Claude Jeter

Jack: The great James Booker… Is he playing in front of the beat or behind the beat?  You figure it out. He sure is creating a lot of excitement with just a couple of chords. Keep On Gwine/James Booker

James: I Ain’t Got Long has to be one of the most deep and moving performances I’ve ever heard on record, and the story behind it is incredible. A prison warden overheard the legendary Bahamian musician Peter Elliot singing the song in his cell, where he was awaiting execution, and was so moved that he arranged his release. Elliot later fell to his death through the open window of a Nassau bar. The song is performed by a group of Elliot’s friends in the same alley where he died. It’s from the classic collection of field recordings, “The Real Bahamas.” This is as real as it gets… (we’ll just play the whole thing) I Ain’t Got Long/Sam Green and group

Anyone else want to weigh in? Doesn’t even have to be an actual piece of music… I’ll leave you with this little slice of studio banter between Leonard Chess and Sonny Boy Williamson (warning: don’t play this for the kids) as you ponder which nugget you’ll send me for a future post: Little Village/Leonard Chess and Sonny Boy Williamson

Today’s Record Store Day… Go spend some cash at one of the 700 independent record stores left in the U.S. so they can stay open for another year.

Brother Jack takes us from the Rubber City down to New Orleans — home of the world’s greatest piano players and the gonzo king who ruled them all, James Booker.  Jack also gives us a few basic tips on how to play like Booker.

Growing up in Akron, there wasn’t much chance to hear live jazz piano, but Dad had some records.  Not the spacey bop stuff.  He listened to players like Erroll Garner who had a strong sense of melody.  This was a style I could relate to… On the Sunny Side of the Street

One guy who played locally, Pat Pace, was a major talent with a singular style.  I used to get real close to watch him play, wondering what the heck he was doing, until he would give me that “get lost” stare.  At one gig, he transformed a classical piece — Pavane for a Dead Princess by Ravel — into a jazz improvisation.  It was stunning.

Our uncle Joe lived in New York City.  He claimed it was the best place to hear jazz piano.  Joe’s favorite was Dave McKenna, who was quoted as saying “I play saloon piano — I like to stay close to the melody.”

Fats with the Fab Four

New York was the epicenter of jazz piano, but New Orleans was home of an engaging style closer to the roots of jazz.  You could hear it in the pop music of the day, most notably Fats Domino.  If you were listening closely to everything on the charts, your ears might have perked up to the organ solo recorded in 1960 in New Orleans by a 20-year-old James Booker on a funky single, Gonzo. Gonzo

The song hit the charts in November and remained there for seven weeks.  This was two years before the organ-driven Green Onions by Booker T & the MGs was a huge hit.  The word “gonzo” wasn’t used to describe the journalism of Hunter S. Thompson until 1970… Booker was ahead of the curve.

Booker was a great organist, but he is best known for his piano playing.  Actually, what you thought was Fats Domino playing piano on a record might have been Booker.  Fats was too busy touring to spend much time in the studio, so Booker would lay down the piano tracks and have them ready for Fats to add the vocals to when he got back to town.  Booker also toured posing as New Orleans legend Huey “Piano” Smith because the real Smith hated to tour.

I just missed seeing Booker live.  I was in New Orleans around 1981 when I heard that an incredible player had a regular gig at the Maple Leaf Bar.  I had to go and hear that.  Unfortunately, I heard nothing.  Nothing that I can remember.  The Booker I saw was dazed and confused.  The man playing was not Booker, but the remains of Booker after a life of drugs and alcohol.  He died shortly after that of liver failure in 1983.

When I finally picked up a Booker CD, I was amazed.  What took me so long to find him?  Here was the music I was looking for.  Here was the master of the New Orleans piano tradition, and a lot more.  He loved Erroll Garner and knew his solos by heart.   Here is his take on Sunny Side of the Street.  Compare it with the clip above and you can hear the influence of Garner.  But also hear this:  Garner has a bass and drums; Booker is playing solo and keeping the rhythm with a powerful left-hand stride. Booker Street

Booker could play so it sounded like two pianos.  By himself, he could juggle as many riffs as the boogie-woogie duo Albert Ammons and Pete Johnson pounded out together.

As you would expect from a New Orleans pianist, he had Professor Longhair down.  But his other influences put him beyond that.  He was classically trained and had a big repertoire of classical pieces that he could play.  In performance he improvised on them in the New Orleans style.  Here he stretches out on Chopin’s Minute Waltz in an improvisation he called the Black Minute Waltz. Black Minute Waltz

Among his influences was Liberace, that popular pianist and showman that piano players loved to hate but secretly wished they could play like.  Liberace would string together medleys in an entertaining fashion and could morph chopsticks into Franz Liszt in just a few bars.

Booker had memorized Liberace solos, and the influence is clear in the way he would string medleys together such as Blues Minuet/Until The Real Thing Comes Along/Baby Won’t You Please Come Home from his album “Junco Partner.”  On this album he plays an affectionate rendition of the Liberace theme song I’ll be Seeing You.

Listen to the manic intro… I’ll Be Seeing You

No discussion of Booker would be complete without a mention of his singing, which was great.  His crackly vocals gave an emotional edge to songs that a more refined performance might lack.  Here’s a perfect example of Booker’s unique vocal style… Black Night

The high point in Booker’s career was his European tour in 1977 and 1978, including an appearance in ’78 at the Montreux International Jazz Festival.  Recordings made during one of the trips were issued on “New Orleans Piano Wizard: Live!” which won the French Grad Prix de Disque de Jazz as best live album.  When Booker was feeling down, he would listen to the enthusiastic applause from this album to lift his spirits.  But although he flourished in Europe, he remained widely unappreciated in the U. S.  And the lure of drugs was something he could not escape from on this side of the pond.

Want to play like Booker?  There is help.  The Joshua Paxton transcriptions published by Hal Leonard are excellent, and the introduction is a great analysis of the Booker style.  Since I have tried to play them I will offer some hard-earned advice.  Play lightly.  Bounce your fingers on the keys.  Use the transcription as your guide, but remember that not all notes are of equal importance.  Listen to the recordings.   It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.  And remember, you’ll never play as good as James Booker.

Finally, here is a youtube video of a performance from the European Tour.  Booker plays a composition of his own, Pixie.  Notice the impassive calm in his face as he rolls off one intricate riff after another.  Notice how his hands barely move.  No flying hands a la Liberace.  So many notes with seeming ease.  And then notice the delight expressed by the crowd at the end.  Here they had found the true master.

Strung Out for the Holidays… Times are still tough, especially here in Northeast Ohio.  If you can find a way to give during this holiday season, think about donating to your local foodbank.  And, if you live in the Rubber City, musician Ryan Humbert has an offer you can’t refuse:  join him and his 13-piece acoustic band on Saturday, December 12, at the historic Civic Theater for a special holiday-themed show benefitting the Akron Canton Regional Foodbank.  Tickets are $20 reserved ($15 group reserved) and $15 general admission.  For more information, go here.