Rubber City Review

What if Lady Gaga turned out to be The Antichrist? Imagine armies of her meat-clad minions cutting a huge swath of destruction across the country. Entire towns are being leveled by massive, boob-guided lasers. Deep below the earth’s surface, a team of scientists works frantically in its secret bunker to develop an antidote. Finally, they emerge with a powerful force – the only weapon that can crush the protective titanium globe around Lady Gaga’s head. That weapon, my friends, is the mighty sound of Big Maybelle’s voice: Ain’t To Be Played With

Although we’re clearly delusional, those of us hiding out in RCR’s bunker are dedicated to bringing a little overdue recognition to artists who remain criminally ignored. And you’d be hard-pressed to come up with a more deserving subject than Big Maybelle.

Consider that she recorded Whole Lot of Shakin’ Goin’ On more than two years before Jerry Lee Lewis set the world on fire with his more rockin’ version, recorded at Sun Studios in May 1957. Granted, Jerry Lee kicks the song into overdrive. But he can’t top Big Maybelle’s voice, which sounds like it could peel every layer of paint off the church: Whole Lot of Shakin’ Goin’ On

Shakin’ is one of many outstanding tunes Big Maybelle cut for the Okeh label from October 8, 1952 through March 21, 1955 that feature the crème de la crème of New York City studio musicians, including Sam “The Man” Taylor on tenor sax, the red-hot Mickey Baker on guitar and the legendary Panama Francis on drums. But the centerpiece of these songs is clearly that big, bold and brassy voice – a truly wondrous sound, even by the high standards of post-war, pre-rock R&B. A voice that made a microphone and PA system seem practically meaningless. Where the hell did this 250-pound powerhouse come from?

A little background… Born on May 1, 1924 in Jackson, TN, Mabel Louise Smith honed her awe-inspiring instrument in the tradition of the Sanctified Church, a highly spirited denomination that made Southern Baptists seem positively tame. At this point, I’ll defer to music researcher Peter Grendysa’s liner notes from “Big Maybelle – The Complete Okeh Sessions”:

“At the age of eight (Mabel) fearlessly entered the Memphis Cotton Carnival amateur contest and took home First Prize. Pushed to the front of her local Sanctified Church congregation, little Mabel learned to shout and cry for the glory of the Lord. The raw, uninhibited emotion of her church remained with her throughout her professional career.”

But so did an insatiable lust for the bad stuff. Obviously, she ate more than her fine frame could handle. And a nagging drug habit throughout her adult life contributed to her poor health. Grendysa’s notes include this revealing quote from an autobiography by Ralph Cooper, a former emcee at the Apollo Theater: “She was a wonderful singer and a funny character who did a lot of sniffin’. Heroin was her thing, and it cost a lot of money. She used to hang out at the theater, and whenever she needed the powder, which was all the time, she would put the touch on anybody who was around” – including the great boxer Joe Louis, who apparently had a soft spot for Big Maybelle’s constant come-ons for money.

The one-two punch of an unhealthy lifestyle and drug use led to Big Maybelle’s untimely demise in 1972. She passed away in a diabetic coma in Cleveland at the relatively young age of 47.

Mickey Baker

Big Maybelle wasn’t as prolific as some of her contemporaries, including Big Mama Thornton and Etta James. But her explosive Okeh tracks remain some of best examples of blues-influenced R&B you can find from the Fifties.

Previous to ’52, Big Maybelle had recorded for Cincinnati’s King Records and toured as a singer for labelmate Tiny (Train Kept a Rollin’) Bradshaw’s jump blues band. During the down time, she’d perform in some of the bustling nightclubs across the river from Cincinnati in Newport, KY. At one of those gigs, a local DJ named Ernie Waits introduced her to indie record man Fred Mendelsohn, who cut a deal with Big Maybelle right on the spot. Mendelsohn eventually set up the Okeh recording dates in NYC that cemented her reputation as one of the most dynamic voices in R&B.

The next tune is from her first session for Okeh. It opens with a nice sax riff by Taylor and features some meaty fills by jazz guitarist James Cannady, who also recorded with Miles Davis and Benny Carter, among others: So Good To My Baby

Baker joined the sessions in January ’54, and his stinging, bluesy guitar served as the perfect foil for Big Maybelle’s soulful growl: No More Trouble Out Of Me

Here’s a hidden gem from one of Big Maybelle’s last sessions for Okeh, with a Ray Charles-like arrangement and more stunning guitar from Baker: Don’t Leave Poor Me

Big Maybelle continued to perform and record as her health declined, with mixed results. She cut some great sides for the Savoy label from 1956 to 1959 – some in a jazzier vein, but others that matched the power and majesty of her Okeh recordings. This one was covered by Charles Brown on his excellent 1990 release “All My Life”: That’s a Pretty Good Love

She also was a major influence on a young Aretha Franklin, who later covered two songs from Big Maybelle’s Savoy years – Pitiful and So Long – on her unheralded album “Soul ’69.”

I may not understand the junkie lifestyle, but when I listen to Big Maybelle’s classic sides from the Fifties, I definitely want more. And that’s the tragedy of her all-too-brief career – although I’m hoping Big Maybelle’s legacy will outlive Lady Gaga’s titanium headdress. I’ve Got a Feelin’

This might be the only live video of Big Maybelle on youtube – from the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roots of rock 'n roll: Big Jay McNeely

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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